Serendipity

I was thinking, with all the Obama excitement happening at the moment, that the one good thing that has come out of Black people everywhere being oppressed for as far back as history can remember, is that we have a sense of community that is unique to us.  Victory for one Black person means victory for all.  It’s a beautiful thing to be able to be so overwhelmingly proud of a person whom you’ve never met because you inherently understand how much it has taken for them to get to where they are.  As a Black person, you never quite stand alone - in your victories and your defeats.  Had Obama lost, we would have all shared in the sorrow and felt disappointed and disilussioned together.  The principle of UBUNTU (i.e. we are defined by our relationships with others) is not unique to black Southern Africans - it is something we all live by, across the world, whether we actively acknowledge it or not.

I worry though that this sense of community that we have will fade with time.  I wonder if our grandchildren’s grandchildren will care when a fellow Black person achieves greatness. Will they treat it the way the White people around my office have been treating the Obama victory? - i.e. “Oh, well, that’s great. Good for him” - as though it’s that one person’s achievement and has nothing to do with the rest of us.  I dread that day because it will signal the loss of the one thing that differentiates us from everyone else and that binds us, no matter which continent we live on.

On the other hand, maybe it would be a good thing because it would mean that we no longer feel oppressed as a people, that we have the freedom to actually pull away from one another and chart our own individual destinies (although one could argue that that is exactly what we’re doing now).  It would mean that we truly feel that all have the same opportunities as our white counter-parts, that we are equal citizens of the world.  That would be a great thing, of course, but I hope there’s a way that we can achieve that without losing the principles of ubuntu…

Someone sent me a really lovely SMS yesterday in celebration of Obama’s victory.  You may have received it, but I thought I’d share it anyway:
“Rosa Parks sat so martin L King could walk… Martin walked so Obama could run…Obama is running so our children can fly…”

If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

… and we’ll be on our way to NYC. 

I’m excited and nervous all at once. 

I so need to get away and I have been waiting for this for a long time.  But I’m worried that I haven’t covered all the bases - scared that we might have forgotten to make a reservation for one thing or another.  This trip is so complex that it’s easy for one to forget something.  But no, I haven’t forgotten anything.  I can’t have.  I have gone over everything 50 times (trust me to stress about going on holiday).  All the bookings are made.  All costs are accounted for.  Everything is fine…  Ja, actually, scratch that first part.  Forget the nervousness.  I’m excited!!  Completely exhilirated!  I am going on holiday in 2 days!  My first ever full-on, paid-by-me-and-not-my-kind-daddy international holiday.  I’m proud that I’ve managed to save money and forego some of life’s many pleasures for this - and grateful that I’m blessed enough to be able to afford this (using the word ‘afford’ very loosely, of course). 

I can’t wait to be in NYC again.  I’ve missed it.  It’s been such a long while.  I can’t wait to see Vancouver and spend time with the Molokos - my dear, yet distant, friends.  It’s been so long since we really chilled - like really chilled…  I can’t wait to see Boston (Layla Hathaway claims she lost her heart there in one of her beautiful songs - I have faith that I won’t).  I am excited about seeing Philadelphia (I know, it’s arb - but you can blame it on Bruce Springsteen).  I’m even warming up to the idea of being in Washington DC for a day.  I wasn’t too keen on it.  It felt too cliched, but I’m going with it coz my twin wants to see it.  I have to be considerate for a change.  It’s not easy (it’s a bit out of character)- but I’m trying. 

So, the land of the free and home of the brave beckons.  It’s going to be an interesting 3 weeks - yay!

I thought I had lost one of my favourite poetry books - “I Flying”, a collection of poems by Finuala Dowling.  But I found it - yay!  It was hidden behind many other books on my shelf (many of which, I must confess, I have not yet read).  I had missed it, dearly.  So, of course I’m going to share my favourite poem from that book with you.  It’s called “Repair”:

Two friends of mine, hardly blood brothers,

have this in common: that they lost their mothers

to heaven or a better man at the tender age of four –

the same age as Beatrice when they met us.

Like all my friends, they brought her treats,

teased her sweetly or applauded her feats

so that I thought, how good – they are healed –

they are here with us grown-ups on the other side.

Until I noticed how when Beatrice cried

the great racking sobs of a child who is tired,

or defeated, or strung out like straining wire,

these friends followed when I carried her to bed,

stayed for the story, the caressing of the head,

waited for the bottle, the curtains drawn across

on a room full of children and their irreparable loss…

I think this poem is so amazing.  It is so profound, in such a simple way - and captures a simple human truth: that our experiences shape what we become, be they experiences from our childhood, teen years or early adulthood.  They may not always break or incapacitate us, but they do affect how we deal with certain things and how we relate to people.  This, I find, is especially true in romantic relationships. 

The title of the poem (and the content, to some extent) also reminds me of that gorgeous song by John Mayer called “In Repair”.  Everytime I listen to it, I am struck by the depth of truth in his lyrics: “Too many shadows in my room. Too many hours in this midnight. Too many corners in my mind. So much to do to set my heart right.”  I think it’s hard to admit/acknowledge being in that state.  It’s not easy to step back and acknowledge that you are not ready to leap into something else.  It’s not easy to acknowledge that you’ve been broken and your heart is unsteady.  It’s not easy…

I am in repair.

I’m in a funny space again (yes, I know, this seems to happen often).  It’s a bit strange.  The laziness has morphed into something else - something a little more worrying.  I think I’m just tired/fatigued.  I got the most horrible migraine attack a couple of weeks ago.  I thought I was gonna die; spent all day and all night begging God to please take me if that was what was going on because I couldn’t take the pain anymore.  I survived the migraine, physically, but I’m still shaken.  I’m still tired and constantly stressing about stuff - even though I know that’s what caused the migraines in the first place. 

The thing is, it’s been a rough year in many ways (work’s been hectic, some of my friends have gone through hellish experiences, love-life’s been roller-coaster-ish, the Soweto tutoring project has been taxing).  But, in even more ways, it’s been a wonderful year too.  The yin-yang of it isn’t balancing me out as much as you would think though.  Yes, I’m grateful that I have amazing friends around me and a wonderful family that’s always there when I need them (and when I don’t).  Sure I’m happy that I got a promotion this year and a decent pay raise.  Of course I’m glad that I got to travel quite a bit and will still be doing some more travelling soon.  But there’s something else.  Something’s missing (as John Mayer would say).  Maybe the reason why there’s no balance is the weighting of the things that have gone not-so-well and the things that have.  Maybe the heavy work-load and general unfulfilment in said job counts more than the promotion and the raise.  Maybe the deurmekaar love-life means more to me than travel opportunities.  Maybe the things that my friends are going through are weighing down on me because I’m there with them (some more than others) - living it, feeling it…  I don’t know. 

So the poem that I’ve been reciting over and over again for the last couple of days is one that I have shared on this blog before: “Tibet” (I’m still not sure who it’s by).  I won’t be going to Tibet like the subject of the poem, but I will be going to the US at the end of this month.  Maybe that will help clear my mind.  Maybe being in good old NYC again will bring back my joie de vivre.  Maybe spending time with my wonderful friends, my twin and the Molokos, will inspire me to live again.  Maybe…

Tibet

to tibet she thinks, where it is quiet.

i wish to sit in a little cell of stone and gold,

my clothes and things would not be important

and i would listen to the birds in my heart

to decide

why i always choose the wrong man

to decide

if i want to recluse myself forever

but i’m not sure, she thinks

i want to carry on searching to find

a little cell of stone and gold

inside me one day

one day she says i’m going to tibet.

So it was father’s day yesterday.  A day for us all to recognise and appreciate the men who played a hand in bringing us to this earth (and hopefully stuck around to see us through the living bit).  I am all too happy to recognise/appreciate that day.  As you should already know (from previous blog entries), I think my dad is a wonderful person, fantastic father, faithful friend, etc. etc.  He’s basically Super-Man in my eyes - and I think he’ll always be.  I mean, if he hasn’t managed to fall from grace in the 28 years that he’s had to mess it up, he probably will never mess up.  And he’s just such a sweetheart. 

Since poetry is still just about the only thing that I’m inspired by at the moment, I dug up some old stuff I’d written and came across this poem that I wrote for Daddy Dearest when I was 18:

My hand-print on your lap  for papa (by Lebogang Manyaka)

There is an old photograph of you and me,
when we were both still very young and free.
A picture I have always had on my wall,
but never really looked at until today.
We were still barely strangers then, trying to find
our places in the world and in each others’ lives,
but treading softly and hesitantly - for fear that it might all
be taken away before we got the chance to want it to stay.
You and I look like the perfect pair,
with me on your lap and you cradling me,
knowing that you would never let me fall. 
The picture had been perfect until today,
when I saw the little hand-print on your jeans.
Little hands had held on to your lap -
my little hands, probably to balance myself.
Tears came to my eyes as I stared at the mark
left by my dependence on you, because I realised that
you had never really dusted my hand-print off.
Your jeans have long been washed and forgotten.
But, although we’re both older and more sure of ourselves,
my hand-print on your lap has stayed in your heart
because you’re still cradling me and not letting me fall.
The picture looks perfect still …

10 years on, he still has not EVER let me fall… 

So I’ve been going through a weird phase lately (yes, again).  It’s like I’m completely un-inspired by anything, to do anything.  It’s really quite draining - this feeling of not wanting to spend any of my energy on anything.  Who would’ve thought that it would be draining to be lazy?  Strangeness…  I think it may have something to do with the fact that Winter is upon us.  I don’t do well in Winter.  I lose my mind a little bit and my emotional health goes down a few notches.  I’m a child of the Sun, I guess. 

I’ve been behaving really oddly as a result of this.  I’m completely absent-minded - and some of the stuff I’m doing or not doing has financial repercussions.  I keep doing out-of-character things like leaving the key in the lock at my front door when I come into my place, on the outside.  I lost my receipts for my work credit card, so now I have to pay in R300-odd on a work-related expense just because I can’t remember where I put the receipts. Just the other day I was depositing money at the ATM and I walked away before taking my card back - now I’m paying R75 as a lost-card-penalty and I have to actually go into the bank to pick it up (I hate going into banks).  I don’t usually do such things.  I’m very systemmatic and I’m jacked when it comes to my admin.  I keep receipts safe all the time - and I always know exactly where I’ve put them.  I am religious about safety - so I always keep my doors locked when I’m home, but not I’m leaving the key outside - what kind?!? 

Even my thoughts are strange.  I find myself thinking randomly as opposed to fluidly.  Some of my random thoughts are meaningful and others are just arb, e.g.:

Meaningful thoughts:
1. How are homeless people, especially the refugees sleeping in tents, coping with the cold? (I always worry about people who aren’t as warm as I am during Winter - especially in the mornings when I peak out from under the blankets and have to duck right back in because of the cold.  I then think of people who don’t have warm beds and heaters and wonder how they’re doing.  I’ve run out of blankets and jerseys to donate though, so all I can do is pray for them each time I think of them, I guess)
2. If I’m bored with my work, but I can still do it well enough for my lack of interest to not be noticed by the powers that be, does that mean I’m a great pretender or that my job is not challenging me enough anymore?
3. If my job is not challenging, will moving into Project Management for a year in a different market challenge me or just bore me further?
4. Am I taking on more than I can handle by pseudo-adopting my little nephew?  Do I have the time and the commitment to be a pseudo-mother to a 10 year old?
5. Is Africa ever going to be at peace?  Is this continent destined to self-destruct?
6. Is Gandhi in hell? (Christians say you go to heaven if you accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Saviour.  Gandhi didn’t do that. Does that mean that, despite all the good that he did, he’s gone to hell?)

Arb thoughts:
1. How many times in a month does the N3 to Durban get closed down because of some truck accident or another?
2. Will I look older if I comb my hair?  Will I look less interesting if I braid my hair? 
3. Does my brother realise that being in a relationship for 9 months when you’re 14 equates to marriage?  And how can he possibly spend R200 worth of airtime on his girlfriend in one day?
4. How come white girls have booty these days?  Are they eating pap now?  Is that the source of booty? - coz if it is I’m cutting it out of my diet tomorrow.
5. How did the person who came up with the idea for the movie “Be Kind Rewind” even come up with that story?  It’s an amazingly arb storyline - surely a sane person couldn’t have thought that up?

The only thing I really have interest in lately is poetry. I’ve rediscovered some of my favourite modern poets - like Arja Salafranca and Finuala Dowling.  Arja is really speaking to me at the moment.  In fact, in the spirit of randomness, I’ll share one of her poems with you.  It’s called “The fire in which we burn”. 

‘Time is the fire in which we burn’ - Star Trek 7: Generations

It’s painful turning the pages of my journals,
seeing what I was,
painful reading about the hurt
that went on forever, years,
till I thought it would never stop.
I explored options:
ropes in ceilings, push away the chair,
what chemist would give me sleeping pills?
Would I ever get out of this?
There was no one to ask.
No government agency I could approach
with my ID number or date of birth
or student card,
asking the question.
I wrote about it in those journals,
pages and pages at night,
when the moths tapped against the
flyscreens, trying to get at the lights.
I stared at the darkness outside,
my pen scratching through the
silence of our 1903 Norwood house,
making worlds and friends and colours
on the pages.
Through my dry analysis I tried to
discover the reason why
there was no one else around.

I read bits and pieces of these journals,
I get nauseous.
Memories come hurling up through different covers.

But it goes on living in my head,
growing new roots.
The past doesn’t die, can’t die,
it’s the fire in which we burn.”

Okay, sharp, so right now I’m a lousy blogger.  I apologise. But it’s out of my hands at the moment. 

I just don’t have the time lately - honestly.  By now we all know that I have this ‘taking on too much stuff and not really managing to get enough rest’ problem, akere?  Well, it’s gotten worse over the last couple of weeks. I’ve taken on Alpha Class, New Business Ideas, Part-Time Motherhood, Tutoring Sessions & Meetings with Tutors, Honey Consulting and all sorts of other things - on top of the regular ish like Bookclub, Weekends Away, Friendship Maintenance, Family Bonding and, oh, Work, of course (how could I forget that?). 

I think my mother may have been right about me.  I might have self-loathing tendencies.  She reckons I must hate myself to deny myself rest so much.  She thinks that if I liked myself a little better, I would give myself a couple of hours here and there to breathe and re-group and all that other time-consuming stuff.  I’m like “I’ll sleep when I’m dead”.  Then again, the way I’m going, I might just ‘busy’ myself to an early grave… (yes, I’m aware that this last sentence doesn’t quite make sense - but work with it. I don’t have time to think to think of a way to say it that’s Oxford English approved).

I’m glad it’s Friday though.  There’s a strong possibility that I might stay home and rest tonight - so I’m looking forward to this weekend (hopefully I can pull the resting thing off).  Besides, I will need to be rested for the motorbike riding I’m meant to be doing this weekend (it’s a hobby I’m testing out - who knows, I might like it.  Yes, I know, where will I find the time to do it?  Who knows? We’ll cross that bridge when we get there).  It’s also a good idea to get some down-time before visiting the displaced refuges in Alex this Saturday.  I think I will need to be in a restful and calmer state of mind to stay strong through that.  I’ll probably break into tears the minute I see them if I’m too tired…

Anywho, y’all have a super weekend now!!

So after 2 weeks of sleeping in foreign beds, I’m on my way home. I’m so excited!!  I’m still 2 flights away - but at least I’m on my way.  My flight to Heathrow from Istanbul is scheduled to leave at 13h55 and my connecting flight to OR Tambo leaves later tonight, so I’ll only actually get home at around 10h00 tomorrow morning, even though I’ve been in transit since 7am today.  It’s no matter though - as long as I get home eventually.

So I’ve been chilling in the departure lounge at the Instanbul airport, waiting for my boarding call (you gotta love travelling on the company’s bill - a lot more comfortable than when I do it on my own steam).  My data card isn’t working - but there’s this ancient PC in the lounge with Internet, so I jumped at the opportunity to fill my time with anything other than reading and listening to music.  I’ve spent an alarming amount of time waiting for and sitting in planes in the last 2 weeks.  In fact, it’s been really good for my reading.  I’ve managed to finish one book (”Man and Boy” - a lovely, emotional read); get halfway through the bookclub book (Mr Ngcobo’s “Some of my best friends are White” - a very entertaining read); get 3/4 way through a Marketing/Work book (”Brand Sense” - not bad at all for a ‘compulsory’ read) and start on a book in transit (Barack Obama’s “Dreams from my father”, a book that I’m meant to be transporting from a friend in London to a friend in Jozi. I don’t think the Jozi friend will see the book for at least another month - my reading rate is slower in everyday life since I can never find the time).  And all of this was done in 2 weeks!  I’m quite chuffed with myself. 

So London was super. I’ve always loved big, busy cities.  It’s quite strange coz I’m actually more into small-town living - but there’s something about cities like London and New York that just captures me.  I love the hustle and bustle.  I love the crowded streets and wide variety of things to do and places to go.  I love the ease with which one can get around. I had the tube system sussed in a day and was hopping on and off where I wanted to go the whole week.  I also love the fact that everything is open until late and everyone’s up ’til late.  It’s a brilliant way to live, I think.  Although I’m not sure if I could do it for longer than a couple of weeks, but I suppose I have to make up my mind about that sooner rather than later.

Then there’s Turkey.  Wow!  The country is rich with mystery and history (hey, I’m rhyming - always knew I had hip-hopper tendencies).  We went to some of the historic sites in Antalya; theatres that were built before Christ’s time and scenery that just blows you away.  I was in awe.  Took lots of pics in my wonder-ment (those of you who are my facebook friends can check them out during the week sometime).  The place we were staying at in Belek (in Antalya) was just beautiful, absolutely majestic.  I felt like a queen, and I am not exaggerating.  The rooms were ridiculously spacious and well-equipped.  They were very hi-tech too.  So much so that it took me ages to figure out how to switch the lights on.  I was starting to feel quite retarded actually - coz it really did take quite a bit of focus for me to work it out.  I felt a bit better when my colleagues complained about the light system in the morning at breakfast though - at least I wasn’t the only confused one.

All the travels were not without their hiccups of course.  Like how Turkish Airlines lost my luggage between Istanbul and Antalya and I had be driven around the nearest town looking for clothes to get me through the first day.  I discovered that trying to buy underwear in a town where they speak a foreign language is not easy.  It’s also fairly embarrssing.  Not all was lost, though (literally and figuratively). My luggage was delivered unharmed the next evening.  To say I was relieved would be an under-statement.  It was all I could do to not hug the bag closely and sing a Michael Franks song to it (I was thinking something along the lines of “Lifeline”).  Now I’m all paranoid about my luggage.  The fact that I’m flying BA to Heathrow(terminal 5) is not helping things at all.  I hate that sinking feeling you get when the belt stops moving and your bag is nowhere to be seen.  It’s a horrible feeling.  A feeling I do not care to ever experience again.  The other ‘issues’ with travelling were all body-related.  See, when I dream of travelling, I dream of all the good things.  I forget the fact that I’m prone to nose-bleeds and weird skin reactions that no-one can really explain, and that they generally plague me more when I’m in different climates.  So my nose bled quite heavily on Friday night in London - (like, of all nights, ne?  I know!).  Then yesterday afternoon when we took a walk in Lara (Antalya), my neck started itching and these huge (and very itchy) blobs appeared.  I kinda forgot that I react to sun-screen on my face and neck and I applied it to a bit of my neck.  It’s still quite itchy, but it’s better now.  I’ll have to use some ointment on it when I get home and pop a few Allergex.  I flirted with the idea of trying to find medication in Antalya - but the idea of having to communicate as though I’m playing pictionary didn’t really appeal to me.  Everyone keeps telling us that Antalya’s booming growth is because of the tourism industry.  I find it quite strange that so few people speak English if that is the case.  It’s odd.  But, hey, this is what I wanted right - to land in a place where they barely understand what I speak (although, unlike Lupe, I have no beats for them to nod to). 

I was thinking about it the other day, that I’ve done quite well with regards to my travel goals.  Yes, this trip was work-related, but travel is travel, so I’m not gonna be picky.  I wanted to go to 5 places I’ve never been to this year and at least 2 had to be on other continents.  So far we have Zambia, London and Turkey - all places that I had never been to before and 2 of them are on a different continent (Would Istanbul and Antalya count as two different places I wonder?  I need to tighten my brief). Now I need at least 2 more places - which the birthday trip to Vancouver in July/August should take care of.  I’m going to be so broke - (well, I am helluva broke already) - but it’s all for a good cause…

Gotta go.  I need to head towards the boarding gates now.  I have this great fear of missing a flight that’s a connecting flight because then the whole travel plan would fall apart.  I’m always too early - but I’m okay with that.  I’ve got my books and my ‘pod - so time is my friend lately.  I’m 2 flights away from home - YAY!!!  I can’t tell you how much I miss my bed and my stuff nje.  I’ve been listening to Michael Franks’s “On My Way Home To You” for effect, so I’ll leave you with a line or two…

“I’m on my way home to you
That lucky old sun will shine again
On my way home to you
Suddenly love’s so MGM
On my way home to you
I’m gonna make you mine again
On my way home to you”

So the travelling that I was craving has kind of started.  It’s not quite my own personal travelling, but I’ll take any travelling at this point. 
I’m at our offices in London at the moment - catching up on a bit of work before going into another meeting.  I have a couple of meetings and a workshop scheduled in London for this week, then there’s a conference for the Middle East Africa region in Turkey (Antalya) from next week Monday until Thursday, so I have to spend the weekend in London as it wouldn’t make sense to go all the way back to SA this Friday then fly to Turkey on Sunday.  I will be spending a few days in Turkey just to see the place - so I’ll only be back in Jozi next Sunday. 

The weather in London is not that great - but I had no illusions about that in any case, so it’s not a huge disappointment.  Although, all the Londoners I speak to keep saying how much better the weather is.  I’m like, “15 degrees maximum is better, is it?  Great. Note to self, keep dodgy weather in mind when thinking of moving to London”. I’m definitely looking forward to Antalya (Turkey), apparently the weather there is gorgeous.  Nothing wrong with a lot of sunshine, I say…

I must confess that I’m a bit panicked about being out of the office for this long.  I shudder at the thought of the things that might not be followed up on in the time that I am away - even though I’ve handed over all the urgent stuff to the rest of my team.  I guess all I can do now is hope for the best.  I need to relax a bit more about work, I think.  I may be taking it all too seriously.  My control-fresk tendencies make it difficult for me to ‘relax about work’ but I have to try.  Otherwise I may run the risk of suffering from a stroke or heart attack at an early age if I carry on like this.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to the weekend.  I plan to do all the sickening touristy stuff and avoid all the shops at all costs (R15.23 to the pound is no joke! Besides, I have another trip to save for - sacrifices must be made).  I think by now everyone knows that I have little self-control when it comes to spending, but the next 2 weeks will be a true test - a test I aim to pass with flying colours.  Please pray for me

Okay, gotta go to into a meeting now…