a fallen angel
"u know sas, this may sound strange,
but when i look at u, i see a fallen angel.
i dont know if that makes any sense to u"

oh yes it does

"and i picture u in a long white robe
walking on a long road
walking away
and looking back over ur shoulder"

Gary, one of the Christmas Twins

An obvious Master
when u need inspiration, its handed to u. this time in the form of Master Percussionist (yes, he deserves the capitals) Trilok Gurtu... together with Malinese artists from a small village in the bush, bringing indian/pakistani music together with West African music - to him 'All music is One'
Definately a source of strength! Incredibly beautiful music, stunning musicianship - the likes of which i havent heard, or in this case: seen!, often before.
Two links to check out:
The Master: http://www.trilokgurtu.net/
The Disciples (and Masters in their own right): http://www.frikyiwa.com/

diversify & conquer
involuntary tears rolling gently down my cheeks; barely noticeable.
no sensation in the rest of my being.
if it wasnt for the somewhat loaded content of the exchange, and my knowledge that it is quite something for me to reach out, to let somebody, anybody, know that all's not always ok - if i didnt know that i had reached out and that love was pouring back in, albeit in 1s and 0s, I probably wouldnt have been able to place the tears.
they felt so alien, slowly forming in the corner of my eye, slowly rolling down, as if in slow motion, gently tickling my cheeks.
no particular trigger, no pang, no pain, barely any discomfort.
but here they are nevertheless, rising to the surface, where the well is i dont know.
calling out, comforted by the response, and still too fragile to reciprocate. Dialogue? How? and what on earth to say? i want to respond just to show my appreciation, my thanks. yet i dont.
whats being asked of me? nothing un reasonable - to come out of my locked toilet cublicle, ah the ghost of mrs Augustine, and to diversify my sources of strength.
At the moment i dont feel strong at all - and, as if on cue, they well up again, those tears. obscured by hayfever-induced sneezing attacks, another distraction, stopped the water from rising.
'if you keep adding rocks soon the water will... be lost in the well, lost in the well.. mmh mmh mmh'
Is that all it takes? To admit that im not feeling strong? That im feeling weak, helpless, lonely?
Bingo - somethings rising again, but i have my guard up now. wont fall for the same trick three times.
Kamande said something about wishin i was in a'dam. i picked up on the word wishing or wish, and unleashed something bigger.

[...] and let me wish upon a star
let me know what life is like on jupiter or mars
in other words, hold my hand,
in other words, darling kiss me..

Am i singing it for me? It does make me feel good, picks up my somewhat gloomy mood. But then there's a young man crossing the street ahead, and i move outside of myself. I go back to sing the bit where i think i can make my voice sound good. My step is lighter - a singing bimbo, trying to show the world (..in the form of a single young man on an otherwise empty street..) that I'm not weak, I'm strong, look at me - I need nobody, but I'll sing my song for you, hoping you'll like me, want me, love me.
Diversify my sources of strength.
I know nothing else! And if i go out and find something new, I'll be doing it on my own. Double-edged sword that. I'll feel strong just not to feel weak. And alone.
Winter is ok. I can blame the cold, the darkness, everyone is hybernating. So should I.
In summer i cant blame the light. Nothing conducive about the long hours, the long days and the bright nights. everyone leaves the office early - my priority is the July event. Africa. Africa is my locked toilet cubicle.
Diversify my sources of strength.
I'm afraid of my strength. Of the power within me. I subdue it. I kill it. I do think so.
So Kamande feels acknowledged and loved by my song, in 1s and 0s - jus like u c me soul tanx me love tanx - there are others out there needing love and feeling disconnected?
How is it that just when a good friend, however distant in geography or in time since a last communication, feels that - that the universe conspires to make us get in touch, and leave us feeling warmer, touched, and loved.
Is that OneLove? Blessed Love?
I jest about it, but i do witness it.
I don't always acknowledge it, in fact I'm probably horribly ignorant of it most of my time - but i do witness it.

I bear witness
and yet i discredit it
I'm afraid - that control issue
I could go on.

back to ethiopia
The very first view of the hills surrounding Addis Ababa was enigmatic, with early morning fog clouds creeping from the hinterland up the hills all the way to the precipice, after which they would pour over the edge into the crater-like valley that harbours Addis (A.A. in local parlance..). With Addis at ca 2300m above sea-level, i was glued to the airplane window, wondering in early morning post-night flight stupor about the resemblence of the organic looking creeping cloud formation to moss, and how did it know to creep up and up, and stop creeping just before it would cascade down into the valley...

5 days & 1 eLearning Africa conference later...
..i was sinking into the backseat, relaxing into the idea of a long car ride that would allow all the details of the the day to sink into my thought. My co-passengers were equally lost in their own worlds - Lorna dipping into short bouts of sleep, Sheba lying down on the very back bench quietly whispering into her mobile phone and smoking a fag.
I couldnt begin to think what this visit must've affected in Dee, being Jamaican and wearing locks, but never really having delved into this movement - this faith and its projenitors. It must've been a true baptism by fire, judging by the amount of times we heard 'FYA!' proclaimed that day. Not wanting to distrub her, I recognised that chit chat or further discussion was really not required for the events of the day to start making any more sense in our minds - from the frightening 4am call that aroused the Addis-based household into a state of worry and a need for an explanation, a cause for the attack. With old fears and accusations rising through the questions and anxiousness, the atmosphere in the house had been tense and the mercy-bound journey to Shash, loaded with bandages and disinfectant for the wounded youths, was a prospect that gave me heavy boots.
Now the day was growing old, and the sun was coming down fast, bathing the surrounding low lands in soft orange and pink light against the remainder of the immense bright blue sky, with stars beginning to sparkle through the vast expanse of the night firmament.
In Africa I've heard it said that the stars in the sky are the campfires of their ancestors. If thats true, then somewhere up there may be my dad's dad, whom i had unfortunatly never known, but who, my dad told me recently, had been keenly interested in Africa, its nature and its people - so much so that he had written text books on Africa for Dutch primary school classes all over the country. Setting off every so often, from the small towns and villages in the east of the country where they had lived, often next to or even attached to school buildings where he had worked, to the offices of the Ministry of Education in the capital The Hague, to get his latest collection of lessons published - all geared towards an enhanced understanding of, and appreciation for, this distant continents' treasures on the part of Dutch school children.
The idea occurred that he might just have come out of his dwelling, picked some firewood from the bush, made a camp fire, is sat down by the crackling fire, gazing out over earth, bemusedly following my adventures and explorations on this continent and beyond. Who knows, maybe grandma is even sitting next to him, boiling up water on the fire for some tea; maybe they fell in love again when grandma finally joined him there, delighted and inspired by each other's company.
We reached the top of a hill and suddenly were surrounded by a most stunning 240 degree view of two lakes sparkling in the last daylight, shimmering silverly ahead and aside of us. Flanked on one side with protective hills and streching into the horizon on the other, the sight of Lake Shala and Lake Langano caused Lorna, Dee and me to exchange glances and share our visible pleasure at the incredible sights and moments availed to people travelling on the majestic African continent.

Babylon is fallin
Ethiopia she is callin