Back to Where it Started (or Close)

The woman on this picture was so beautiful I kept staring at it for minutes before I pulled my camera out.

Another advertising which reflects the vibrancy of Africa.

Floor at Durban Airport, in South Afircan Colors.  I am sure this was done for FIFA 2010, but I would not like a country’s colors on the ground where everyone can stomp their dirty shoes on it.  But that may be a very Asian way of thinking.   And the colors are beautiful.

  

Ah, this Elephant, would you guess what it is made of?  Look at the following picture.

Beads!!!

July 14, 2012

I heard about this conference a year ago.  Durban, South Africa.

My heart thumped.  That is so close to Botswana.  South Africa is all we heard when we were in Kanye, Botswana.

Like people hear Los Angeles when they are in Tijuana, Mexico.

Or like I heard U Penn and Penn State While I was at Clarion.

So, I worked hard to send the abstracts.   In fact the deadline was in February, the month that I got sick.  I had hard time taking care of anything.  At the end of the month I had to be in India for another conference and some family time.

I remember the deadline was two days after I arrived in Delhi, India.  Remember sitting at the internet café trying to finish my abstract and mail it out.  I was exhausted and almost gave up.  I wrote to another friend in the US who I work with sometimes to send a joint paper.  

So when I got to know that I had actually been accepted I was delighted.  There were conferences in Turkey, and in the US.  But I chose this.  Only because I thought that I would go and see the house where I lived….first time away from home. 

I started seeing people I knew from years ago in my dream.  Signs started to pop up, I found an old coin—One Pula, Botswana currency.    I met the two women I thought I wanted to see, in my dream.  It was so real I had to shake myself up even a few hours after waking up, to tell myself it was a dream.

In all this time I did not check two things, one how far was Durban from Kanye, and second if I could stop in Jo Berg and hop onto Botswana from there.

I have been very busy trying to organize my house.  Trying to unpack.  A young soul has been coming to help me do that since the middle of June.

But I was still delighted to be back in Africa.

I realized that I could not get all the things done, so here were a few things I did this time.

First, I chose to stay in the same city.  For the three weeks, unlike other times when I hop on and off from trains and planes to maximize on my travel.

Second, I asked my heart ---what do I really want to do in Botswana?

I had no desire for Safari, or seeing animals in their element. I had one that years ago. I have seen Giraffes crossing streets, Elephants in the wild, Lions in lazing around in the sun and ostriches running crazy in dry grasslands.

What did I want to do?

I imagined standing outside my house and trying to look into the eyes of my young self…..and ask, ‘Did you think you would be returning?  Did you think you would be at a place you are now? What did you think you were going to be after you left?”

I imagined standing outside of my house and simply staring.

The thought that it might not be there did not occur to me or worse that someone else might be living there, and the character of the house…..might be very different.

It was a one-bedroom house.  I was the first ever tenant.  That was the first place I learnt to pay rent.  I had never paid rent before.  I lived with my parents before that.

I remember the first few months, I would just forget to pay rent and bills.  

‘Bills?” What are those things?

I also opened my first food can there.  The only cans that we had used before were for condensed milk.  We are not used to eating canned food.  It is the biggest insult to a household when they start using canned food.

I remember spending such a long time in trying to master the can opener.

But then again, what would I do there?  Nothing I guess. I remembered the long dirt road to the main street from my house.  I remember the dirt road to Mathethe by my house.  The road lead to South Africa. And I had hardly been to the country.

So, I decided, I am not going back.  But in reality I forgot to route my ticket through Gabrone, Botswana’s capital. I guess I was also afraid of how much I had to take care of.

I slept most of my ten hours of flight. 

When I woke up, I was fresh, but not prepared for what was going to happen.  As I stepped out of the plane, images, advertisements, words, people and smiles started to bring me to the awareness, that ‘you are in Africa…..’

And then it happened. I stood in the middle of the baggage claim area and cried.  My chest shaking hard, teeth clenched to avoid making any noise, nostrils flared from the mere emotion. 

Was I here ever?  Did Africa remember me?

Ah, that is a silly question…..

The question was, do you remember Africa?  And what it meant to you….

I had thought that I did not miss it.  I have always been biased towards Asia, and I thought I did not care about Africa.

But I did.

I do.

Other than the fact there is some truth to Africa being unsafe, I really did miss it.

I started to chat to people around.  Noticed women with big behinds, men with curly eyelashes.  Children, not that afraid of strangers.

Mothers holding children on their sides, as children rested their soft faces in the curves of their mother’s necks.  Women holding children on their back, with a shawl.

I ended up in the wrong que.  A White South African man came up and pointed it to me.

At the end of the que he said I could choose, and I should simply move towards the ‘foreign passport’ que.

I did.

‘Hello’ I said, with a little too much excitement.

“Hello’

I handed the disembarkation card and asked, Shall I show you my passport?

“And can I have that please?”  he pointed towards my hand.

“This? What?”  He pointed again.

Oh, my pen?

“Yes, I do not have one.’  When he saw a surprised look on my face….he said, ‘They stole mine, eesh, I tell you, people are mean…”

And just hearing that accent, I laughed and asked, ‘Who is mean to you?”

“Eh….there are too maney”  he said in his African accent…

As I was about to walk away, he held my pen and opened his mouth to say something…

“Do you  want me to leave that with you?”

“Yes, Please.”

I laughed and walked away a pen lighter…

‘And we are back in Africa…’

No, I do not mean about people wanting your things, I mean, by a simply happy gesture, a fun way of interacting and an acknowledgement, --with a  shrug…

‘Such is life’, and ‘have a nice day!!’

Blooming Universe

All beings are flowers

Blooming

In a blooming universe.

Soen Hakagawa, 

John Daido Loori, Zen of Creativity, p. 155

Sommar Och Skolanavslutning (Summer and School Closing (Graduation)

High School Graduation, which in the US usually culminates in a Prom, and all the glamor, in some other countries new graduates get what they call 'Farewell Parties' from their younger schoolmates, in Sweden it is partly a family, and community affair.  Sweden, is a very interesting example of balancing individuality and community.  Family is important in this country, but so is being an independent individual, so much so that partners take a break from each other for a few weeks to find their center.  They don't call it that, only that that break is not considered a problem in the relationship, not something to be fixed.  Just a need to gain balance again. I find that fascinating.  

Despite all that, there is so much more 'family' that I have seen here.  And immigrants add to that value for family.  Swedes have a strong tradition of adopting children.  So you see many adopted children, who look very different from their parents but seem very well adjusted.  Often times even the people who have biological children adopt children.  

So, coming back to the tradition of high school graduation, which is very different from what I have seen else where.  High school graduation for Swedish youngsters is a tradition that has been going on for generations.  It combines a church ceremony, involves the parents and ofcourse ends in a party.  Parents bring embarrassing pictures of their children, put them on a poster board and flag it around... The youngsters who are about to step into the adult world, take it in the stride and compare their pictures with those of their friends.

But that party is still very Swedish.  So, how do the immigrants to Sweden celebrate their graduation.  While most of them go through the traditional one, they also have a communal party.  Which is where I got the following pictures.  I was heading towards the grocery store, it was past 9 pm, about mid June.  I saw these gorgeous young women dressed in lavish gowns.  In Sweden, you get very few days to dress up in fine, lithe, dressy fabrics.  So, these youngters wore these beautiful gowns and I took their pictures, as I asked for their permission to put them on my blog.  

Ah that red!!  That red!!  These are young Kurdish girls who grew up in Sweden. 

This one almost blinded me, and I angled my camera so I could take the picture such that the glimmer and shimmer of the gown came across.  And I think it was not the gown, it was that gorgeous smile that made her glow!!

And look at these gorgeous girls...full of hope, looking forward to a new life...

Here, I just asked her to model for me.

I am grateful to these youngsters for providing material for my blog.  Thankyou beautiful girls...

Mid-Sommer Maidens

A little girl at the midsommar festival, Sweden 2012

The above is a painting in a hotel room.  I could recognize the midsummer motifs easily.... :)

How we made the wreaths....the girls were generous in sharing!!  And very generous to allow me to put this up here.  Thanks girls. 

A street musician in Karlstad. Just lit up the quiet Karlstad streets. 

And the following is my favorite video...when a street musician moves the onlookers, passersby or bystanders so much that they just prance around a bit around, forgetting where they are--But as they do, they bring us to focus on what it was always about and we have forgotten--to let the spirit reign!! To lighten up, and see the beauty that is around us....I did ask the permission from the young girls.  But took their video in the reflection of the store window across the street from where they were dancing--I hope it moves others to be 'child like' at least one day a week....