...Chawama news...

A little boy walks into the local store, looks up and smiles at me.
He looks scruffy, cant be older than six or seven. He looks alive and alert.
He is attended to by the lady behind the counter. He asks for something, she takes a piece of cardboard off the display and removes a small tube.
'Seven thousand'. He hands her a note of ten thousand kwacha. While she gets the change I look at the display. I see small tubes of glue. I look down and see a small used dirty plastic bottle in his hand.
I walk out disturbed. Who am I to intervene and forbid her to sell the glue to the charming little sniffer?

A boy and his grandma

This morning i drove into town to buy printer cartridges so we can print colourful certificates for the teachers that have been participating in the workshop. While walking to the bank to get money out of the cashpoint, a small boy passes me with his elderly grandmother on his arm. Shuffeling slowly, the boy looked up at me with big eyes; his clothes dirty and holed, his grandmother blind and stooped and helpless on his arm. He held up his hand, I walked past on my auto-pilot "Sorry, No." So many ask me for money, so many hold up their hand. I wouldnt know where to start, and automatic pilot is on before i step out of the car.

Walking on towards the bank, my heart broke a little. My shell broke. He is not a glue sniffing street kid, although they deserve as much help as anybody. His grandmother is blind and cannot care for him as I imagine she wants to, needs to. The upside down roles, the shame the grandmother must carry inside her, the responsibility of the little boy, he couldn't have been more than six years old.

I promised that on my way back i would find the boy and his grandmother, and give them a little bit of money.

Scanning the streets for the boy and his grandma, my eyes fell on little boys in shop entrances, little girls on the sidewalk, with grandmothers on their arms, old, dilapitated and some also blind. But i couldnt find the boy. I walked beyond the car and continued on. Looking left and right, up the streets and down the streets. I couldnt see them anywhere. I saw a crowd infront of Shoprite, the big South African supermarket chain. I crossed the road, waded through the crowd, passed hords of little boys sniffing glue and gave up. I looked down to my left, and on the floor, just there, next to me, the little boy sat. Looking at the ground, a little distance from his grandmother who sat on the ground, crumpled in on herself.
Amazing, here they are!
I walked up, and said 'sorry'. He looked up, a little dazed. I put the 5,000 kwacha in his hand and he started to beam. Smiling, i pointed to his grandmother. He leaned over and said something, put the money in her hand, she lifted her head, he said something again. I smiled at him and walked away. I turned back and saw him wave at me, and beam, and smile a beautiful smile. I smiled back, kept on walking, crossed the road, and felt a force of something overpowering and painful rise up inside me. I crossed the road crying, walking on to the car crying.
I don't know what it was, or what it is, because it wells up inside me as I write.

My shell broke. I found the boy. He smiled, and I cried.

Nehalennia
Protector of Travellers

Where the rivers flow into the seas, may the dolphins protect us, in this life and crossing to the hereafter

Apples, fruits and loafes of bread, May Mother Earth provide us with abundance

Attendant dogs and prophetic ravens watch over our travels on land

Oceans, rivers and sacred springs, may our life force always flow freely

Votum Solvit Libens Merito
the promise fulfilled, with pleasure and reason.

impressions of life in lusaka
sitting at breakfast in a café, a little mzungu (foreigner, i.e. white) kid drops his glas on the floor. he looks briefly disturbed and glances at his mom for a fraction of a second before turning around to the young zambian staff imploring him to clean up his mess. it looks just a little too habitual for comfort.

two young, capable and dedicated staff members of a training organisation have gone without any pay for two months now. they come to work at 8am every morning and do what they can until after sundown. the company isn't bringing in clients, there is no money for salaries for yet another month. it's not the first time.
The young woman is getting married and needs to put in money for her 'kitchen party'. Her relatives will contribute, as will family friends and friends from the mother's church. She is expected to put in the largest part before anyone else contributes. If she doesnt, she will be seen as expecting everyone else to pay for her. She is seen leaving her place of residence early every morning and returning late at night. 'Ahh that one! she works. she has money.' When she explains that she is not getting paid, she isn't believed. She asked her employer for help, but there is no money.
The young man went to see the doctor. Infection of the kidney. Antibiotics, immune boosters and Chinese herbs. 350,000 kwacha. He hasnt been paid for months, hasnt been eating, and can't take his girl out for a soda. He needs the medicines. He asks his employer for help, but there is no money.
They will be at the office at 8am tomorrow morning, doing their bit.

the recently wedded bar keeper is no longer wearing his ring on his finger. what happened? aahh, i found an sms in my wife's phone, and i didnt like it. I asked her what it was and she got angry. She packed her things and went to her parents place. Her parents called him, brought them together to work it out. They realised that he was right and that she did wrong. She is still at her parents place. She is due to give birth to their first child in three weeks.

I sit in a car with three young lads. They seem like boys yet they have responsible jobs. They jest and joke, we banter and laugh. I look out the window and appreciate being back in Zambia.

re-visiting

images earlier encountered
stories earlier found
symbols earlier examined
mysteries earlier longed for
how could i have lost touch with it all?
it's been coming onto my path for years
a decade later, what am i to do with it..
Plunge?

Moving into April

I was just taking a shower
absorbed in thought, touching far away places and far away people
moving closer to my day today, which had started with the happiness instilled in me when hearing people excited about their work, enjoying hearing the stories about the elderly farmer couple in Chilanga who have a dairy cow that produces 15 liters of milk a day. I had no idea cows produce that much milk a day.
Enjoying hearing the stories about Elga from Garden Compound, who was 20 and unemployed, and who is now working as an office assistant, slowly being given more responsibilities, now being able to prove what she can do.
A few more individual stories that trace back into some work that i've assisted, when the bigger picture gets murkier and murkier.
Lost in thought, i didn't see the flood.
Lost in thought, i didnt see the cockroach on the shower door.

People have been glued to the televisions, waiting to hear what the fate of their southern neighbour will be. Will Mugaba stay in power? Will Tsvangirai be given a chance? Zimbabweans are still afraid of the Lion, the wounded Lion, according to a BBC reporter.

It's the first time that i am travelling with a yoga mat. A new chapter. I haven't yet used it. I have never owned a yoga mat. I feel I don't know the exercises well enough. I've bought a magazine, a Yoga magazine. I enjoyed reading about the various poses, i enjoyed reading about all 'green diets' including avocados and artichokes. I enjoyed reading about the need to accept your desires before being able to one day realise you have left them behind when you have stopped feeding them. Not because you told or forced yourself to stop, but because you've grown and stopped desiring all those things.

I found myself pulled into the telly, watching Johnny Depp talk about moving to the South of France, he wasn't interested in Who is Doing What, Who is Hot and Who is not. I recognise it, i want to retreat onto a multi-acred rural property in the south of somewhere, I am watching him say it on E-Magazine (Entertainment Magazine for those without Satellite television in your (hotel) rooms). What am i doing?
There is so much work to do, good work, real work, work that will make a difference tomorrow.
There is a yoga mat and a yoga magazine staring at me. The mat is yet unpacked, it's a present, thanks my love, it feels strange to unpack it, go stand on it in a corner of my Chita room, and practice. Not entirely sure why.

I unplug the tv again, i trust i will hear about the results, even if not in Breaking News form. I saw the TV by the bar - Breaking News flashing, I asked Teddy, what? what? are the results out? aaaah no, just someone being interviewed, could be many hours or days yet. Breaking News.

I've got loads of music on my hard drive. My tv is unplugged. I am showered and cockroach free. I'm read up on whats happening in LA and whats happing in Accra. In Melrose Place and beautiful houses in the Hollywood Hills and in little airplanes and confession booths. I feel connected by words and far away in being.

I opt for Anja Lechner's music again - meaningful and melancholic. Beautiful and familiar.
And now I'm going to do that work.