Still Walking

 

Whatever happens around me, it seems that one thing remains immutable: mid afternoon I walk my dogs. Whether I arrive famished or completely knocked down, I have to forget aches and sorrows to answer to their needs. As soon as I step out of the car the first thing I see is their anxious expressions. Only dog walkers can realize how it is.

 

Walking a dog creates one of the best bonds ever existed. During my walks I’ve been learning more about dogs than an entire life of coexistence. I learned, for instance, that dogs are not very fond of changes in terms of walking, the same way they don’t show signs of boredom of eating the same menu day after day.

 

At first I tried different streets with the idea that change would please them, but for some reason we ended up always walking the same paths. In reality, I picked a barking dogs free walk.

 

I was worried with such lack of imagination, until I recently discovered that I was wrong. For some reason I decided to walk the same places but in reverse: start where we usually end and end where we usually start. Disaster. Both dogs, Thoth and Keket, didn’t like it a bit. They behaved like they were walking a place never walked, just because it was happening in a different direction. Above all, they lost half of their usual effusiveness, concentrated in identifying and signaling their path as if it were a completely new one.

 

Last Thursday, Paul and I decided to change the direction of our active routines by returning to the gym. I was greeted by the same tae bo instructor and immediately informed him that I wasn’t exercising for quite sometime. Maybe you think that he should ask a few questions. Maybe you think that he should recommend the gym medical personnel for a routine check. If you do, you are completely wrong. I saw him approaching and suddenly it just happened. He pinched my waist with his fingers. I was so surprised that I even stopped breathing. Only a few minutes later I realized what had happened. He was doing his own medical exam, trying to detect possible fat around the waist area! I sighed with relieve. I had passed!

Disciplined Rain

 

Last Sunday it was stormy. Though, the result wasn’t a proper storm but a quiet rain intermittently falling down since Monday. That day I walked the dogs right after the rain to discover that rain makes people more equal. And smiling. And playful. Dogs and school children seem to love it. Keket was particularly excited with the newly washed streets. I love it too, even if slippery with all the lilac jacarandas covering parts of the walk.

 

It hasn’t been a good walking week, but Wednesday was general election and nobody worked. Mid afternoon we found small groups still arriving at the neighbourhood election post. Not far from it I saw a homeless man profoundly sleeping on the street. We can sporadically find beggar and homeless near a place where the rubbish is deposited, but it’s the first we see sleeping like that. Keket was clearly intrigued. A human figure in such strange and vulnerable position!? I almost cut my wrist in two to prevent my little dog from awakening him.

 

I was intrigued too. It could be simply a drunken, a man who celebrated democracy in a particularly effusive way. If he had voted too, how could a visibly homeless man register near the place where he lives if he doesn’t have a known address? Was he sleeping tired of the early morning queues or of his fruitless attempts to vote? Above all, I wondered about the party a homeless man would vote for.

After a Long Day

 

After a long, very hot day
When quiet silences install and
The world seems to fade away
Pushed by shadows that fall
Softly delaying crafted gestures

 

Draw the curtains
Turn on the lights

 

In the dark everything makes sense
Love, waiting, past and

                                    present

He Found Us

 

Months ago I wrote about a chimpanzee, but then I lost the text and felt too lazy to put it together again. The chimp I am talking about used to live in the local zoo, where he reigned as its main attraction ever. Actually, he ended up as a victim of that attraction. Another case of fatal attraction. Being extremely clever, he mimicked and learned everything people taught him, including heavy smoking.

 

One day we returned home and found Andy sitting in front of the television. He looked worried and said: “It’s done, they are taking Joao to South Africa from where he is not returning for sure…” We looked at him totally puzzled. It happens we know closely a person called Joao and our first reaction was thinking about that person. Why on earth would someone take Joao to South Africa forever?

 

After the evident laugh caused by the confusion, Andy explained that Joao-chimp was so sick due to his cigarettes addiction that he had to be rescued from the adoring crowd that kept feeding his deadly habit. He had a nasty temper and showed other manifestations of dependency.

 

Andy, who always had a special interest for any kind of monkey or ape, kept coming with the subject. “What could have happened to Joao?” he usually wondered, and we always thought first of Joao-person before we could realize it was about Joao-chimp. Last time he came up with the subject, we decided to satisfy Andy’s curiosity and start looking for Joao-chimp. And I wrote about this intention, so that we didn’t forget it. The text was lost and the intention could follow the same destiny, but then it happened that thing between Andy and monkeys. If there’s a monkey, he cannot be too far from where Andy is. We went to Nelspruit and accidently discovered where to Joao was taken. The old chimp is still very much alive and an attraction at Chimp Eden. We immediately set a date to visit Joao. And I am sure I shall have another good reason to write about in here.

Little Mary

 

MARIAZINHA
Escondida na rua
Brincando sozinha
Onde estás, Mariazinha?

 

O sol já se pôs
E ela na vizinha
Onde estás, Mariazinha?

 

Perdida no mundo
Como uma avezinha
Onde estás, Mariazinha?
Onde estás, Mariazinha?

Drawer Personality

 

How many drawers does an average house have? I suppose the number varies according to the number of people living in there and also with personal tastes and options. Some prefer shelf storage to drawers. Others opt for boxes.

 

I spend a great deal of time around drawers. I don’t mind because, since I was a child, I found fascinating any storage place. My mother playfully called me “mexeriqueira”, wrongly associating the word with mexer (touching things), when actually means gossiper. Storage places should be left alone. They should remain untouched, unless an imperious motive forced her to act. While most of my colleagues and friends sat in front of television sets, I was discovering the contents of any armoire or drawer. I suppose this is only a reflex of my treasure hunter vocation.

 

Excluding armoires, shelves, boxes and any other storage form, I recently counted more than 80 drawers. Ignoring if the number is normal or too big, I justify it because of family size and also because we have too many things that we don’t really need and end up in some drawer. I do expect that this explains it, because the stories I know involving drawers are not flattering for drawer-like people.

 

I know about a region where dinner tables have drawers so that the family members can quickly hide the food they are eating inside of them, and don’t have to share it with neighbours and friends. Totally wrong personality!

 

I just hope that having drawers is nothing but a storage option…

 

Note: If you are more into armoires, that could mean that you are not very mature. Compared to drawers, I have the insignificant number of six armoires. Pretty mature, don’t you think?

Wheel of Time

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Na roda do tempo eu estou
Na roda do tempo eu sigo
E o tempo é meu aliado
E o tempo é meu inimigo

 

Há dias em que nem sei quem sou
Há dias em que é bom estar vivo

Tastes of Mozambique

 

September is a beautiful month. The temperature is hot, yet bearable, and days became longer. It’s also when south winds or suladas constantly rise, as if nature had this form of telling us about change. Summer is what lies ahead. The incognita. An exciting incognita, not a stressful one. Thankfully.

 

Before suladas sweep once and for all winter 2009 from my memory, I look back and perceive two main ingredients making it: 1) Very demanding tae bo classes. 2) Experimental cooking.

 

Somehow both are related, since I believe I was pushed into cooking (and eating) because I was afraid I wouldn’t survive the aggressive methods of my new tae teacher.

 

My experimental cooking means trying part of the recipes collected over a set period. In the end, there’s only one or two destined to mark our winter. I was almost getting rid of one of the recipes never tried, when I decided to give it a chance. It seemed impracticable, but at the same time it underlined a nice Mozambican flavour: cashew. So I tried it and the impossible turned into our favourite winter recipe. If you are curious about Mozambican tastes, why don’t you give it a try too?

 

Four Ingredients and Four Steps Cashew Nut Cake

 

250gr of good plain cashew nut
6 to 8 eggs
200 to 250gr of white sugar
½ to 1 tablespoon of good almond essence

 

1. Using any good food processor, reduce the nuts to flour consistency. If necessary, strain it.
2. Beat together egg yolks and sugar until you get a whitish cream. It’s difficult to reach the right consistency manually, but the end result can be good too.
3. Beat the whites until firm, if necessary adding 2 or 3 tablespoons of the sugar.
4. Fold into the yolks mixture: cashew flour, the whites (Softly, please!) and the essence.

 

That’s it. You just have to pour the mix into a well-buttered middle size tin and cook it for about 40 minutes at medium temperature. If you feel like it, you can cover your cake with good melted chocolate. The result is a very light and slightly moist cake, just like this country is.

Obviously…

 

You may or may not wonder about Seabell, The Dancer. The answer is simple: she has not been dancing for a long time. The reason? Her gentle teacher is expecting a baby.

 

You may or may not wonder about Seabell, The Fighter. The answer is not so simple, because she cannot be sure (just suspect) that her enthusiastic tae bo teacher might be expecting too.

 

Meanwhile, Seabell got herself a new tae teacher with a mind set on two things: “Higher! Stronger!” No need to say what his philosophy has done to Seabell throughout winter 2009! It was a bit too much and, except for exhaustion, she is not sure of short or medium term benefits.

 

You may or may not wonder about Seabell, The Quester. She still has her dreams. They never end. But dreams exist inside a larger spectrum called day-to-day reality. That’s why, instead of pursuing adventures, Seabell has sometimes to settle for kitchen and house quests. When she has to deal with other people’s problems, what else can she do other than that?

 

Tieta, Seabell’s chef, is a mother of three and a grandmother of one. She is single but not entirely alone. She is involved in one of those relationships just underlining the playful side of nature. She recently revealed: “I may or may not be pregnant…”

 

The rate world population grows is a serious concern. Not for Seabell’s acquaintances and friends, though. They don’t give a fig about it. Obviously…

Colour Me…

 

The importance of colours in the process of acquiring is usually imperceptible. Though, I had fully conscience of it while I was organizing the armoire where I keep around twenty straw summer baskets and the drawer where boys’ ties sleep for most of the year. Owing to climate and lifestyle, it can be months without one seeing day or night-light. I have to say that ties beat baskets in number and colourfulness. Largely.

 

During this colour awareness period I discovered a sort of quiz in an old magazine under the title: What is your true colour? I never had wondered about my true colour, but I automatically guessed it could be green. In reality, I love blue and black (Don’t we all?), but my safe, comfort colours include green or red (meaning happy mood) and brown or black (usually suiting a more serious me).

 

I followed the steps to find my true colour and got a surprise. It’s really easy: write down your date of birth and add numbers together treating each as a single digit until you arrive at a number between 1 and 9, the same process to discover your “lucky number”.

 

Basically, if you are:

 

9

You are gold, approachable, talented, perfectionist and an expert in hiding your true emotions…

 

7

Your colour is violet and you are creative, drawn to feel that you don’t fit – especially when your creativity is suppressed. (Diver Andy)

 

6

Indigo is deep, mysterious, optimistic and equipped with a finely tuned sixth sense.

 

5

Blue means maternal, caring, imaginative, stubborn and communicative.

 

4

If you are green, you like company but need to escape when feeling trapped. You believe in order and like to plan ahead. You cling to emotions and possessions. (Diver Ti)

 

3

Yellow is fun, acidly witty and meticulous. A reader and potential writer or journalist.

 

2

Orange people are sociable and relaxed, although you know when to take things seriously and people can find you difficult to deal with. When you feel down, food becomes your emotional crutch. (Diver Paul and Chanda)

 

1

Like your colour red, you are passionate and want to experience everything new, but have a relatively short attention span. You are direct and honest. Bottling up your emotions leaves you prone to illness. (Diver JP)

 

8

Finally, my number and colour: rose. Besides the surprise of being sort of pink, I wasn’t surprised at all with my main trace being “the perfect hostess”. But what really impressed me was the following passage: “Rose people often move away from where they were born and, although they may go back to visit, never live there again. In fact, you believe everyone is connected on same level. You prefer to let others take the limelight, even when it really belongs to you…”

 

That’s it about my true colour. I also liked (suspecting that it’s not far from the truth) the duality of changing from patient and understanding to “erupt like a volcano”. But really impressive is the distance thing. If I tell that I was born in a place where I stayed for about one month and left to never return, even if I was pretty close for a couple of occasions, you might understand why I picked this subject. So, if you have to, colour me… rose.