putting the pieces together

My shattered pieces required civilization at Christmas - therefore - I fled to where I usually go to clear my head - London!!! It took me five minutes there to feel like a human being again. To feel compassion and kindness for strangers, to feel like ME in my own skin again. For I've lost sight of that - lost sight of a lot of things. Truth be told - I am still ripped and shredded from the wounds of losing my father. That's hard to admit - for it's been three years and I should bloody well be over it? Oh so wrong. For when Daddy died - I faked life - living the American culture and just staying busy - dulling my senses on shopping and all the dull delights that numb. And although Zim has it's utter horrors - it has it's beauty as well. So for the new year- I am resolved to make my peace with what is left of Zimbabwe and hope against hope that the world will pay attention and help to stop this madness. By the world - I mean the rest of Africa - to MAN UP and take care of the madman. For it's not the west's place.

But back to London and JOY. I swear I have reverse Seasonal affective -meaning - grey and overcast makes me at my most alive!!! Bright and sunshiny and cloudless (unless I'm at an ocean) makes me listless and grouchy. Hence I spent an entire morning at Hyde park...it was wonderfully Dickensian grey and I loved it!! Had time to clear my head - while I was surrounded by life and bustle and things that WORK and true customer SERVICE (an absolutely unheard of concept here), as well as constant information. I felt whole again - like I could quit fighting so much. Somewhere I've lost sight of myself - I know that reads uber melodramatic, but that's the best way I can describe it.

Once I get around to posting again - lets hope I'm less cryptic!!!

In which Guinea Fowl made me sad....

Tis silly, I KNOW, but tis true!! Today, I was walking across the 22 acre lush park that is my campus, and for ONCE I had on shoes!!! I heard the annoying honk/screech of one of our herd? flock? gaggle? of guinea fowl, usually razor-blades-to-my-ears awful, but at least there's an end. Not so with this instance, he would NOT stop and I was impatient and quick to temper with him. Until I realized - he was NOT with the flock (I prefer gaggle for the simple alliteration), and was merely crying out to be found. Then I was sad, and almost frantic to help point him toward his fowl brethren. Sure enough, around a corner, there they were and I wrangled him a bit toward them.

Me being me and putting WAY too much thought and personification and allegory into things sometimes, had the moment to ponder how many times I do just that when I've lost my way, lost my gaggle and feel alone, overlooked, abandoned and left behind?

Thank you for flying Zim Air!

Air Zimbabwe!!


How true and how fall- on- your -ass -laughing!!!!

I know I haven't posted in awhile but I've been too busy sourcing things - for those of you in the US - think of me next time you're in Target or Kroger!!!! Stories later!!

Showers in the time of Cholera

I'm going on week three with no city water. And that would be all fine and good, as I have a reserve water tank -however - our pump has been broken and reworked badly to where, it pumps out all of the water from the tank... In addition, something happened with the wiring of the hot water heater - so even when there is Zesa or the geni is running there is no hot water.

The reason for no city water is roughly in the ballpark of there being a cholera problem and there's not money to treat the water;therefore a shutting down of three weeks should clear that right up!!! There's some logic!!! Although there was some speculation that with the foreign press corps being allowed in country for the first time in years - that's where all the water went - in that they would report things in Zim were fine!!!!

To say all that to say - I'm not complaining - one learns to adapt - and in my case - that means taking a bucket of water from my pool and setting it down on the shower floor and using the "cup method" to shower. There's also bucket in the loo to keep that "flowing" as well as a tupperware tub next to the sink for washing hands. And that means my dishes have been washed with pool water for that amount of time. And it's all good!

There is great hospitality and shower-sharing (not in a dodgy way) among the community!! About every four days or so - I go on a shower walkabout and show up at someone's house begging! This is why in my bag there is always a small pouch with shampoo, conditioner, shower gel and razor my microfibre towel.

Needless to say, my time in Joburg this week has been spent taking lots of showers, washing my hands to an OCD extreme and even marveling in the flushing process!!!

And yet - I find myself missing Zim!!!

way-hey and up she rises......

Well that’s the best of the pirate shanties I can recall (someone look up the “Corsairs” – a pirate band out of Dallas and send me some music!!) Just returned from six days of sailing and bush-walking….

Lake Kariba – up on the Zambian border – a powerful hydro-electric home. We took seniors – It’s the ultimate senior trip – sailing catamarans and camping. And I do mean SAILING – in that we do all the work – no luxury cruises here – hauling ropes (halyards) to hoist mainsails and genoas, mooring lines – tills….constant motion and keeping a weather eye on the horizon. The photos (see facebook) will show it best…I can merely recount snippets to best tell the story. Some things, as we all know – must be encountered for oneself…

How does one begin to describe the absolute synchronicity of being in the midst of the dance of creation – not as it’s master, but as a participant?

There is no point of variable reference to properly describe the thumping of my heart when one of our game guides, Neil, and I had a group of seven students out in the bush, and we came across a herd of Ellies…and according to the footprints and clues (for we’re learning to track as well you see) there were young in the herd. We were able to walk quite close until the head cow decided we were FAR ENOUGH thank you and she started to walk toward us…not in a charge, but enough to have me put the boys behind me and back them up and enough for Neil to take the safety off his rifle….no zoo no cages….we were in the middle of the Elephant lunch spot….again NO PROPER WORDS…

Or to the fact that to me, the newbie (and the Star Wars fan) that hippos sound JUST like Jabba the Hutt when they “talk” to each other…and it’s a sound that’s magnified and funny (to me) when they’re at the stern of your boat as you’re sleeping for the night). Or using the “loo with a view”, which is a bucket with a toilet seat on a bucket dug into the sand with a three “walls” of shadecloth around it. The fourth wall does not exist and faces the lake. The trick when using the loo at night is to manage your torch (flashlight) with one hand – keeping it sweeping the lake to check for crocs (their eyes reflect, much like gators) while managing your trousers with the other hand…and hopefully you brought your own loo paper!!!

I’m a water elemental, and while I love boats, sailing is a whole other thing – to engage with the world all about – feeling the sea (huge ass lake), and the wind…one enourmous satisfied AHHHHHHHHHHH!

We spent time walking through the bush…and while I presumed I would be hot and grumpy – I actually could not have enough – every time the Rhoadies rifled up – I was there!!!! And similar to the sea – one simply cannot be surrounded by such LIFE all about and begin to have the understanding of all the falseness we really live with in life…ok me (I’m not you)….So much of my existence is based on smoke and mirrors and merely biding time and rushing about from one diversion to the next….and it took the rawness and real of the bush to expose that. It’s just a beginning thought and I’m nowhere near having it processed out…but it’s there just the same.

In the unlikelinesses of places….

Beignets anyone? I stopped by one of our local churches yesterday, a mega-church. They have an amazing coffee house with wireless internet! Threre were huge crowds, which is unusual for a Saturday but there were these multiple weddings – the weddings were over and the different parties had spread out for multiple photographs. Weddings are always a marvelous anthropological vignette of any society. All the various colors of clothing, babies tied around their mother’s waists and such joy and excitement in the air. But the moment that made my heart just leap, was the presence of a brass marching band walking down the driveway, in uniform, crowds of wedding guests following…The whole thing was extremely New Orleans. Now, I’m not from Louisiana, but it was a southern enough moment to give me a few moments of continental connecting. Chicken wrangling My housemate, Brooke, has apparently always wanted to have chickens. As opposed to the south, where we have chickens just everywhere, the northwest, I suppose doesn’t get to enjoy this phenomenon. Ergo, she took the opportunity of living in Zim as a gateway to have her own chickens. After 4 weeks of getting hyped up about chickens, she finally found someone to give her five. Now, Zesa went out this morning and I was bored, so I went along for fun, as it was early enough before church. There were two jack russells there – Pip and Nala – who would NOT shut up and who have been raised to be VERY protective of the chickens. Needless to say, I almost was bitten twice. For those of you intellectual types – you’re going to have to suck it up and deal with the next paragraph…. But…it was just like on the episode of Friends, where Phoebe and Rachel and Joey go to see Phoebe’s dad and this little Jack Russell is jumping up TO the car window and they look up and the dog is just perched there half through the open window and growling. Sort of like that, but happier dogs. Once we get three chickens in the coop – Becky starts to round them up ONLY to find out there’s a bloody HOLE in the coop – so we hard to start again. Thirty minutes later, Brooke had her chickens in a box in the backseat, while I drove INSISTING that she hold the top of the box down – I was NOT having those clucking buggers flying all about the Volvo – it’s bad enough I still have plywood on the back window!!! Still – good times! Cleanliness is next to something or other… Out of three bathrooms – mine doesn’t pump hot water (there’s a valve issue –it’s been noted by maintenance), and the two on the other end of the house – one shower only runs hot, one only runs cold. Well after my horse-riding lesson on Monday –I was the soul of ICK…what to do what to do. I’m hardly above just jumping in my pool only it’s still too cold (October is the peak of heat around here)…so I drew a half bath and used the big cup (or Greek yogurt container) method. My daddy would be so proud!!!!

On gerry cans, open showers and night driving.

My house no longer has a well (borehole). It used to, but that’s another story. School has a borehole, which provides, if nothing else, drinkable water, as well as distilled water coolers…therefore I borrowed a 20 litre metal gerry can, appropriate for water. Yet yesterday, the water cooler in my building was out of a bottle. And I knew I needed to fill the can for the weekend. Therefore, I stood at a sink, and filled the can, one 18 water bottle full at a time. (and much thanks to Stacie for the fabulous steel water bottle). I laughed inwardly at the pure ridiculousness the sight must have made, but somehow was content at the tedious and working process I went through to provide myself water – and cliché as it would seem – that water is much more appreciated by me, than say, if I had merely turned on a tap. Meaning of course – when I DO visit home, I’ll most likely have a strong gratefulness for the things we all so easily take for granted.

Such as shower curtains!! As my EIGHTEEN boxes of stuff have not even arrived to Durban yet (that’s the port town in SA) I’m still living off of what I brought in my four suitcases. Besides all the fabulous items of mine (more than half the possessions I own in the world) are my bloody SHOWER CURTAINS. So, needless to say, I’ve been taking “open showers” since I’ve been here. Hehehehe. And since our pump is temporarily broken – the trick is to go out and turn it on before you want a shower, and go turn it off when you’re finished. Unless you’re me and you’re so thankful for hot water and water pressure that the pump decides you’ve had a long enough shower and turns itself off.!!

As is understood, Zesa, or the power, is out a LOT. Not necessarily a lot at MY place (knock on wood) but city wide. Meaning, full moon nights are the best ones to drive because streetlights that work are like unicorn sightings. (Or emotionally available military men! ☺ ) But the Zim thing to do is drive with brights on - ALL THE BLOODY TIME. No one has EVER explained the idea of turning OFF the brights in opposing traffic. So there’s a great deal of driving batty BLIND.On

Good times – as always.

Public Service Announcement #1

For those of you who ever find yourself on the Zim/Mozambique border in this magical mountainous land known as the Bvumba…you must must SIMPLY MUST go have high tea (which is kick ass desert for the Yank crowd) at Tony’s. Cannot emphasize enough – as experiences go – forget the London Eye or the Great Wall or even the Pyramids (it’s hot and there’s sand). At Tony’s one would experience a delectable definitive and divine collection of concoctions. Think Willy Wonka or Viene from Chocolat. Now, multiply by about 25!!!

I indulged in the caramel “special”, and not being a foodie (inhaling a box of Somoas at girl scout season is about it for me), the best I can describe is a caramel de leche between a layer of chocolate and cream, and this perfect butter crumbly crust. The presentation made it almost too good to eat. (I said almost).

And the hot chocolates!!! Hot chocolate and cream, hot chocolate with espresso, or ice cream and of course – Chocolat – as the Aztecs intended, with a hint of ginger and chili powder. Truly I now know how Edmund felt when he drank Jadis' chocolate in the Narnian woods!!!

Adaptation

Although I don’t believe in evolution, I DO rationally believe in evolution/adaptation of species!!! Yet, it’s my belief and faith that such evolvement is God’s gift to help us cope with changing times and trends.

Now maybe my Narwhal belief isn’t quite so rational, but it goes back to a song my father used to sing to me, because it amused him how upset I got. It was a song about the unicorns missing the ark!! But when I learned about narwhals – I COMPLETELY believed that God merely adapted the unicorn to be marine animals ☺

Tis silly I know – but it’s the silly that keeps us laughing when things are difficult.

So it’s incredible how an entire nation can adapt to a lifestyle dictated by an impossible economy and it’s a lifestyle the west will never understand. I didn’t two weeks ago –and I’m just BEGINNING to scratch the surface.

To merely gather the necessary items for one’s household requires patience, persistence, good math skills and an ABSOLUTE sense of good humour!!! Something as seemingly simple as getting potatoes or carrots – well that can be picked up from any person on the side of the road. There is this precious woman who sells roasted peanuts on our corner on Sundays, for 30million per cup (roughly 30 cents). Needless to say we filled up a gallon bag and will continue to on Sundays. I noticed she does beautiful crochet work. She wasn’t griping or whining or even outwardly resentful to me as I obviously had the means she did not…she was simply doing what she knows to do. And she exuded a peace and gentleness.

Similar to what used to be the situation in Eastern Europe (before the joy of Tesco’s), one could spend a full weekend going from store to store or calling around to see who is selling milk or eggs. There is a tribal wind, an interdependency that I discovered when I was sick and recovering from cancer. It’s a facet that has been deeply missing from my life and “happiness” isn’t the word I would choose, but there is a growing joy about learning it. To daily HAVE to practice submission and surrender, to admit weakness.

And yes I’m still “new” and doubtless there will be days ahead where I cry in quiet frustration to myself over the unbalanced-ness of it all. But for now, I choose resounding faith and wonderment.

Officio Africa

Finally - six months in the making - and I'm a Zim resident. Doubtless there will be a time when I will write with wit and poetic language. As I'm on an hour at an internet cafe - bullet points will have to do!!

Jet Lag
While I'm sure Australian or Asian jet lag is monstrous - jet lag to the southern portion of Africa is pure hell. By the time I hit Jo-burg, I was just dizzy on my feet!!! But all my luggage arrived intact so that was lovely!!! Fond memories of the new terminal 5 at Heathrow which now has a KRISPY KREME!! (joy and joyness)

Spiders
I've apparently come a long way since my growing up in Florida days upon which I freaked out at every spider. Now there is one living in my shower and three in my room (which is palatial in size). So instead of freaking out - I chose to make them a deal - everyone stays out my way and everyone can live!!!

Money
All of you are capable of reading a news wires (or whatever your means of news gathering is) so you would have heard about the “inflation” here. And if you’re like me – you’ve read it and have no clue what all the rates really mean. So, here’s a solid example. As of this week (and it’ll change again by the weekend) 1 trillion dollars = US 10. So, if you’re trying to shop with a bunch of 50 billion dollar notes (roughly 50 cents worth), 20 of those = 1 trillion. Whew!!! So – I bought 3 baskets at the flea market this weekend – and he wanted 2 trillion – I talked him down to 1.5, roughly 15 dollars and 30 of the bills I had. Yes, I feel like a drug lord carrying all that cash!!!!

School

We’ve only had country orientation – all faculty starts meetings on Thursday, then dept meetings. Again, I’m the head of my dept – so I will spend from this afternoon on, sorting, planning and decorating. The school and theatre are beyond gorgeous!!! I have FLIES and TRAP DOORS and beyond brilliant theatre managers!!!

Domboshava

Last Sunday after the brunch with the Zebras, we went to Domboshava national park – these large rock formations put there by God that overlooks for miles!! It’s an ancient place; Shona bushmen used to live there, there are cave painting that are thousands of years old.

Forensic Accounting

I’ve always loved history – from, well evers I suppose. Reading about places gone, my first visit to St. Augustine, when I was 8 ish, created tales of forts and swashbuckling and Spanish ladies in their mantillas. History gives us the pieces of the known as we add our artistic spins to the might-have-been, the mystery.

My great-aunt Weeta, now her house was a treasure trove of what might-have-been. Not a blood relative, there was a mutual adoption between my family and her spinster sisters and her. Born in 1897, saw Halley’s comet in 1910, married in 1914, father was a cattle baron of central Florida. (Now cattle –baron is truly my spin on the tale, but Mr. Carpenter did amass a nice chunk of estate from the cattle industry – everyone involved in any part of the story is dead, and besides, this is my tale, not yours!) She went on to marry Hamp Brown, who was a boarder of her mama’s and who made his money in oranges (as once upon a time, we all could in Florida before the greedy housing developers raped our lands).

As a young girl, who was boisterous and who needed to stay out of the way of the three sisters, as I made them nervous, I was frequently in rooms by myself where I could look through photo albums from an era I had only studied – now here was pieces of time gone by with faces I knew. Here was the house where I grew up in – with the original owners standing out front of in the 1940’s. Here were the sisters on a river cruise…one could only wonder about their story – who they had met along their journey.

I jumped into the river of nostalgia when Daddy died – I think everyone gets to that point at some time or another in their thirties, I HAD to for necessity for my mental state, for Daddy was my entire life, and to cope, I put myself back into my childhood – remembering life with Daddy and Papa and then mama, who died a year later.



This brings me to today - May 28, 2008. They’ve torn down all the places where I lived growing up – all that’s left is boxes. Every time I come back to Florida (I’m in the middle of figuring out where “home” is, so it’s hard to say coming “home” to Florida) I go through some more boxes. Today they were Daddy’s – looking at the complex puzzle pieces of who he was.

The part of him that saved everything and it’s part of my history too. So unlike if I’m reading someone’s biography and reading photocopied old records, or seeing them stored in a museum, or seeing a land deed signed by Patrick Henry at my Aunt Alicia’s (since we’re supposed related to him) – THIS is most different, for Daddy’s story is intertwined with mine and fills in blanks I didn’t know I had. Daddy was complex and Daddy first so many of his complexities, I was just beginning to understand when he died, and now I have these boxes. What he chose to keep, from cards of mine, to various receipts or church bulletins…it was like he was right with me, I can see him so clearly. And while that’s hard, it’s comforting at the same time.

We keep our life in papers, photos and boxes, the boot of our cars….we make little altars everywhere constantly leaving clues of who we are and what’s important to us. And it’s not until we are completing the clues of the mystery of those we love best that we really begin to know how to read those clues.

**********
This is one of those things I began in May. And by the time I came back to it - the idea and flow had lost steam. Perhaps if I were to go back into the boxes. I will, to be sure, just not today.

These women......

these dear women...how they have
blessed my life and heart and spirit.
I'm A firm believer that EVERYONE wants to dance - this fact has been dubiously confirmed every time I teach a choreography unit. This past semester the assignment was a dance off to Thriller - guys v. girls and the results were amazing and hilarious at the same time. (and for the record - 2nd block boys are still the reigning champs!)










For the past two years, I've taken various dance classes from jazz to latin to bellydance (it's all hips and fanny and I've got PLENTY to work with !!) A year ago I started taking a tap class. Now when I was 6, I had this big photo book of a girl who was a little older than me, and the book told her story of being in the nutcracker with the American Ballet Co. in New York. I have ALWAYS wanted to be a dancer, but genetics and my clumsy factor did NOT agree. Until two years ago - when one just DOES not matter what the inner "but...." list kicks in. Obviously I'm a Broadway junkie (I mean let's just be honest - I'm a gay man) and so Tap seemed the obvious choice. Not only do I like it, but I'm pretty decent at it (not Savion by a long shot, but I can hold my own). On the flip side of this -I've been at quite a "doldrum" place between places - the wood between the worlds if you will. Leaving for Zim in a couple of months - shutting down everything here - trying to make time for people, but knowing there's already that emotional-self-preservation that's kicking in. Hoping upon hope that the petit-bebe's truly understand that I am NOT abandoning them recklessly. I don't have time or space for new people, as I'll be an ocean and a continent away. I've desperately missed the intimacy of a small group and this tap class - unwtittingly so - marvelously filled that void.

In a culture that pits women against women - survival of the prettiest, skinniest, richest, best mom, cleanest homemaker, blah blah blah - we as women are programed to compete from practically birth. The other side of that coin is guilt - women who don't feel they measure up -feel in a constant state of guilt that they don't DO enough aren't enough. After cancer, when I was well enough to strengthen up my body - I joined a gym and started going to classes. From aqua aerobics, to spin to sculpt and what not - the common denominator was that most of these classes were comprised of women - not skinny -shallow -sorority -Sally's either. But real women - with complicated lives and hundreds of body types. And I would at first shyly observe and then feel as one of them. And it's a beautiful process. It's been just that with Tap class - to be folded in and loved on in a season where I've felt like such an outsider from most of the world - unless I'm ensconced in my Theatre with the Vagabonds.

This morning was my last class - and they gave me a blank book in which to write out steps - I'm constantly writing steps and choreography on slips of paper. Val created this beautiful 3D rendition of the logo and everyone wrote me a sweet note of encouragement. That gesture was unbelievably kind and inclusive - two factors that I seek to find and seek to BE.

Dance on.

A day with cosmo..

Happiness - time with Cosmo always is - I took him for his first visit to Cherokee Blvd park. Doggie paradise. Of course I have so many memories of the blvd anyway from the last decade, from ultimate frisbee, to picnics and countless QUALITY time with friends. There is the point where I am able to relate stories and my thoughts in general with clarity, warmth, and even wit. Unfortunately that moment is not now - when "The Soup" is on and my intelligence in sucked into the American vortex of pop-culture lazy muck!!!

Simpler days with dogs and outdoors - that is in my near future!!!

According to Kenna....

I should write down all that moving overseas entails - from the packing and choosing what goes. To the emotional aspects of radically changing my whole life and culture and everything I know. And that's a GREAT thing.... all of our stories are written differently, some of us are meant to get married and live in cul-de-sacs and breed. Others are meant to be these rugged hard-core people that can live on one pair of pants and tree-bark. I like to think I fall somewhere in the middle!

So, as I pack up my life - and go through the triage of the choosing (triage is definitely my word of the month!), I think - TEN BOXES! Not dis-similar to one of my favourite episodes of The West Wing where Josh was trying to get the Presidential platform down to ten words. A life in ten boxes. When one merely moves from house to house - there is generally the paring down and the salvation army drop-offs. When one is moving to a place where Target or even Tesco's is not readily available - on the whole other side of the world, it requires introspection. And naturally, since I have the apparent attention span of a baby-goldfish, it requires focus: to sift through the memories.

There's my smokey bear I had from back when I was four - recently returned to my possesion. The russian inkwell shaped like a bear's head -I picked that up in the market in Ekaterinburg and talked the guy down to 500 rubles from 700. Little pieces of me - little altars everywhere that tributes my core and my passion for my family, my friends, my Lord... grief, but I just could sit amidst of pile of "stuff" all day. And remember.

To quote my old friend Dis. "It's a good life, it's a great life, it's green and wild and it's fine..."

Isn't it rich....

but where are the clowns? Don't bother they're here....... In what I'm sure will be more reflection required....I closed my show season with the Vagabonds for good tonight. "Dearly Departed," - what AMAZING writing - joyness indeed. But oh this cast - it's been ages since I worked with one so loving and respectful of each other - not a diva in sight. It was divine indeed and I'm soooooo grateful.

A new chapter...

hell, another BOOK really, is about to begin. I'm Zimbabwe bound!!!! I hardly know what to say or how to tell this part of the story, I suppose I'm still in a bit of a fog. I know that I'll try to tell it well.

I have remembered what it's like to share news. The last time I sent out the "bat-signal" it was when I had cancer. I remember what that was like, who responded how and such. This is similar. Everyone expected me to move - but to Europe. Even I expected that up to a point. But once Africa started to blip on my radar....that was that.

a long time gone

This is my third blog. I suppose they serve as a summer camp - once I've outgrown a particular chapter in my life -I really must turn the page. Well, after learning that losing my father is a hell of a lot harder than cancer, it's been a couple of years. Time to get up off the mat!