Zink Blues

 

Despite the timidity of the sun, we couldn’t avoid the temptation of stopping in Zinkwazi. At least it wasn’t cold or rainy as three days before. It was pretty windy though, but that is the norm.

 

The small beach village remains the same, as we left it nine months ago. This means that the signs of the 2006 storm are still there. Curiously, we found in Zink a couple we met while dinning at a Japanese restaurant in Durban.

 

Paul developed an allergy to Zink, because we now have other options. I know that I can change his mind as soon as an opportunity presents. I told him:

 

‘We should be back at least once a year. I intend to finish my book in Zinkwazi.’

 

I understand his position. Zink is a bit wild and isolated. We hardly can sleep with the alarms going off during the night. The sight of armed groups invading our garden keeps haunting us.

 

Though, Zink has an appeal difficult to ignore. It’s a good place for quietness, photography and decisions. I have memories there. Some make me bleed. Some make me smile. Since holidays of September 2007, that place is also about my distant daughter.

 

Later we stopped in Richards Bay, where we had lunch and shopped for food. JP’s territory. The mall has doubled in size. Here most shopping centers grow from big to gigantic. I know the reason why they grow in size and it’s not because of the users. Personally, I just hate it.

 

I took a few pictures for JP to see, but deleted most of them because they couldn’t capture the actual size of the place. I left RB wondering if I shouldn’t have bought a new camera, but right now I have a hate relationship with cameras. Better wait for the wind to change.

Sick and Bored

 

Though the third day in Durban showed a few timid smiles of the sun, after the first cold rainy night I found myself a little down and with a touch of cold. The comfort of the hotel and the sight of evident improvements designed with 2010 in view were also good to my heart.

 

That same day I felt a bit vulnerable and “used” that vulnerability to do something I shouldn’t. But sometimes we can learn more by doing wrong than doing right.

 

I don’t know if because of my cold (but I doubt), shopping never felt so boring. If other people have the same reaction to what shops have to offer this year, it’s going to hurt. Small and medium commerce look particularly down and, by what I saw, it will get even worse. I thought bling was only for threes and other Christmas motives. Is bling-bling still in fashion and I am not aware of that? One of the fun aspects of Christmas is selecting colors, something I had to learn while running surf shops. This year I was so blinded by the silver sandals on display in  every shop I felt like picking gold and green.

 

Yes, in the end I bought everything I needed in terms of presents. I even got a dress for Christmas (‘You look like a present yourself!’ Paul said and he was being positive since he added that it was the best dress I got so far, besides not having to spend a fortune with it. He always says the same!), but besides the trivial I couldn’t find one I really liked for News Year Eve. So I told Paul:

 

‘Maybe I’ll wear a new pyjamas during the first day of the year…’ Tradition says we have to wear something brand new during the first day to bring luck for the rest of the year.

 

That’s when Paul suggested:

 

‘Why not a different thing? You know you can pick something else…’

 

In reality, the night before I had a dream with a particular thing and that same morning the news reported on the subject.

 

‘Maybe it’s a sign the time is right,’ I agreed. ‘I’ve been feeling like these objects and I were back to back. Maybe the curse is gone. No more spell!!!’

 

The fact is that boredom went away fast. This New Year I’ll wear white and a small discreet objects I hope to keep for a very long time. No flashing dresses. Just a bit of happiness. The hard is waiting. I know what some presents are (Thoth got one too), but I hardly can wait to know what’s inside this one. In reality, there are a few making me whoooosh!

A Mistake With a View

 

This post is above all the description of how shopping for Christmas 2008 was. I could say it in three words (it was okay), but by now you must have realized how words seem to multiply when I start.

 

The first aspect of shopping 2008 was the symmetry with shopping 2007, in terms of periodicity. I guess we have done precisely the same last year: shopping early (mid November) to avoid the last hour rush. The similarities stop here. The highlight of 2007 was crime, this year entering a mall was almost like boarding to the USA.

 

The Road
Rain and cold. Cold and rain. Cold started 80km from Maputo, at Goba border, fog right after the border and rain less than 10 minutes of Swazi road. In general we had a smooth ride to Durban, with a sad note: Gugas, the little pug I used to photograph, is no longer there. Dennis and Jessie, the other dogs, looked like they missed our little friend.

 

The Decision
Before going to Zinkwazi we first stopped in Ballito for food. You cannot believe how cold it was! Rain and wind still reigning… Worst than the worst winter day! As we don’t have to give explanations in terms of reservations, Paul suggested a cozy hotel in Durban instead of a windy desolated beach. I gladly accepted. Though I have pleasant family memories there, the place still makes me feel a knot in my throat – you know, the way we feel when we are about to cry.

 

The Mistake
I was quite excited with the perspective of a beach hotel where we often stayed before 2006. It was fully booked. The same for hotel number two, three, four and five. The last receptionist recommended a five star downtown hotel, the only she knew with rooms still available.

 

‘Downtown hotel?’ Paul said. ‘No way!’

 

As a result of his reticence, it was night, and still raining and cold, when we found ourselves discussing the possibility of staying in a hotel we found in Umhlanga with rooms rated at R7.000 per night or accepting the downtown suggestion.

 

‘Let’s give it a try, Paul.’ I insisted. ‘If the receptionist recommended it to me, it can’t be that bad. Both hotels are good, but the difference in price is incredible. I know that if JP was here he would tell us to stay, but after, if TD discovered we paid such amount he would spend an entire year without speaking to us!’

 

The View

So we went to the suggested downtown hotel. The desk personnel, knowing through Paul I wanted a beach hotel, gave us a room with an incredible view. The hotel is old style but cozy. We had a pleasant stay, full of episodes I cannot tell to save on words: we met a media producer somehow related with TD; I had some extras for breakfast after teaching a nice zulu lady how to speed up the process of frying eggs for rushed conference people.

 

Maybe before going any further I should explain the reason why hotels were so packed: conferences! Through different conference attendants, mainly two from Austria, we learned a few themes being discussed in Durban while we were shopping for Christmas 2008. Interesting to say one of the meetings was organized by the WHO: against smoking! Yes, s-m-o-k-i-n-g!

 

So, Paul and I playfully changed our colloquial language to a conference mood. ‘Let’s have breakfast. Our conference is starting in half an hour!’ we would say. ‘Let’s drive to our conference centre…’ referring to any shopping centre.

 

We could say our shopping expedition-2008 was almost like a very informal conference!

Dessert

 

If in the middle of summer we have a rainy “cold” day, it’s almost sure we end up eating lunch in a usually good restaurant offering a buffet. Sometimes we leave disappointed. Sometimes reasonably satisfied. That’s how we felt on the 10th of November when we left the hotel where this restaurant is situated.

 

The buffet doesn’t offer the variety of the past in terms of hot dishes, but if the thought is quality over quantity, as it seems, I find it a very good idea to carry on. We could eat whatever we wanted of: grilled calamari (causing quite a stir among the children), traditional Portuguese dish of bacalhau (salted cod), Mozambican chicken curry and Brazilian churrasco meat. As you may guess, a very international buffet! But it’s not because of the hot dishes I go there when the opportunity presents.

 

The cold dishes are really (underline the adverb for me) tempting! Besides 6 to 8 wonderful cold salads, including prawns, cod, tuna, cold beef and calamari salads, they also offer a good variety of pastry, the best chips you can imagine, cold barbecue chicken and piglet (the poor darlings!), cold shaved beef and ham (poor things!) and finally, the piéce de resistence (poor me!): stuffed crab!

 

Yes, I love crab! Though, I only eat it from time to time. I don’t think crab is healthy for breakfast, if you know what I mean. I was eating the crab (sinfully!), realizing if there was an island or a paradise where to take everything I love with me, stuffed crabs would be on the list. Besides, this restaurant has the wonderful characteristic of offering another paradise like food: quindins, yummy small coconut cakes. Quindim is like dance: it can be perfect or far from it. The one I had belongs rightfully to the first group. When popular wisdom meets culinary expertise it’s like art. The taste is written forever in our buds’ memory!

 

After lunch we went straight to Miradouro, where we walked and walked. At a certain stage Paul stopped and said:

 

“There you have, your dessert!”

 

I was undecided how to answer a statement totally out of context (eating dessert while walking!!??), when I noticed Paul’s look directed at someone sitting on a bench. He was right to call it a dessert! I met a new guitar player belonging to what I started to call Albino’s Group. He said he is involved in a musical project with Albino’s bless. Albino is an example: as he could not fulfill his dream of becoming a famous musician, he is giving his spare time to help young musicians to fulfill their own dreams. Thought meeting guitar players in Miradouro is a dessert without sugar, coconut and eggs, what a treat for me anyway! Sure I would take a few of them along with the crabs and quindins! Islands and guitars go together well!

Still Alive

 

For the handful of those reading me and wondering what has become of Seabell’s quest, I have to say: it’s pretty much alive! Seabell has been pursuing a few other quests, like writing, behaving and dancing, but her main quest is slowly taking shape too.

 

The latest development indicates that soon our partner is getting an international license for this quest to be accomplished. You can easily imagine the huge difference between going for a quest to face a consequent legal fight or going for it with all the requirements in order, no loose strings left behind.

 

That’s where Seabell’s quest stands now. Somewhere in the deep blue Indian Ocean, a treasure is waiting. With it lots of dreams can be realized: Seabell’s and other people’s dreams.

Unscrupulous People

 

Sometimes I feel sad when the feeling that the world belongs to people without moral or social conscience invades me. As I am not a religious person or a prudish moralist, I can only guess how truly religious and keen moralist people must be feeling.

 

The reason making me sad about the huge amount of dishonest schemes going on, it’s not that I care about the fate of that kind of people. I truly believe that any single act of violence committed is going to be paid in this world. It’s just a question of time.

 

What saddens me is the possibility of  existing a large group of people condemned to the role of victims. When this thought occurs to me I tend to fight it the same way I fight an imaginary enemy during a tae class.

 

I usually try to came up with arguments more or less solid against the victimization of the majority of the world: 1) A victim cannot be considered a victim until she suffers the blow. 2) A victim is not a victim if by own will decides to stay in such situation. 3) Although I believe the victim complex exists, the personal option is what counts. That means sometimes a victim stops to be a victim to be part of the crime too. 4) People considered victims usually show exemplar resilience and courage. 5) Being a victim is not a condition, but a temporary situation. 6) Those looking to the world as an endless source of victims, should know that people don’t perceive themselves as victims. Such vision of the world is nothing else but the consequence of very sick minds. Just a thought!

La Africana!

 

My chef Tieta has a complicated life. She is in her 30s and already a grandmother. Her teenager daughter became a single-mother last year. When she shows up, I try to help Tieta in the ungrateful task of raising a very young girl with a child. Last time I motherly said:

 

“Don’t force things to happen. If you are supposed to meet a good guy, he will appear when you less try and expect…”

 

Tieta was listening and decided to make her point by saying:

 

“Why should she hurry if even her mother is still waiting for a husband!?”

 

Later I commented only for her:

 

“Don’t you have a boyfriend, Tieta?”

 

“I do have a boyfriend. But a boyfriend is a boyfriend and a husband is a husband!” she replied with a certitude coming from some place I ignore. She had two liaisons resulting in three children and she has now a boyfriend who is married with children. So I concluded that for Mozambican women there’s a clear difference between a boyfriend and a husband, being a boyfriend some kind of inadequate substitute. I have my reservations concerning that theory of hers! They are too complicate to explain to her or here.

 

It’s easy for me to forget Tieta’s age, mainly because of her grandmother status. She is very mature and reflective too. She celebrated recently her birthday. It was Sunday, so I sent her a message. She replied with a small text without a single correct word. In the end she signed: LA AFRICANA!

 

That’s how I discovered that my chef has a nom de guerre and uses an universal language which reveals a lot of things, including her age. Taking in consideration that she is not able to master a languages she has been using since birth, it’s very curious how she seems comfortable with new communication signs!

Waiting For Lunch

 

Human beings are used to look at almost everything that is as potential food. It never crosses our minds that we can be someone else’s food, and discovering it can be really upsetting. Try a game reserve and you will see!

 

Last week we went to a wildlife sanctuary not far from where we live. As usual, we spent most of the time trying to recognize as many wildlife as we could. We had fruit and water with us, just in case some elephant decided to block our route. At noon we were starving. We went to a camp for lunch.

 

The day had been fresh (read agreeable) until noon, but after started to behave like a truly November day. We entered the lunch area already sweating like glasses of beer. I looked at the food and felt the nausea of someone urgently in need of liquids, not solids. In a distinctive area of the large room, a group of Japanese displaying extra smiles and kilos was very excited about something on the table. I approached, a bit curious and hopeful they could have discovered something special. Well, all the excitement was about ice cream. Even if ice cream was a good way of stopping sweating, how could someone feel like eating something causing all the excitement I witnessed? Not far from that magnet like dessert I noticed a couple of  dark iron pots, completely ignored by the starving crowd. They contained the most delicious tomato soup served with croutons! It wasn’t too hot or cold, a perfect lunch for a more thirsty than starving visitant!

 

Paul had a full lunch and felt a bit sleepy right after. I suggested parking the car on the large pound not far from the camp. He had to be feeling like a truly hypo (heavy and hot), because he stopped the car almost touching the water. On the other side of the pound, a large group of hippopotamuses seemed knocked out by the heat. The only notes were a large grey stain of  hippos, a few scattered birds and a jeep parked not far from our car.

 

Only five minutes of silence and Paul said:

 

“I can’t sleep like this. It’s too hot!”

 

At the same time he suddenly started the engine, thus breaking the quietness of the place. At that precise moment, a grey projectile elevated from the water.

 

“It’s a crocodile!” I guessed by the shape and size of the body.

 

“It’s impossible! If it’s a croc, he was less than two steps away from our car!” Paul said approaching again to check the place where we had been parked. (Yeap, the picture above shows the jumpy croc expecting to have Paul and Seabell for lunch!)

 

The croc kept his eyes looking suspiciously at us. Seconds ago he was hiding beneath the water, positively waiting for  lunch a mistake. I looked at the other car parked and I saw an almost imperceptible movement. A second croc waiting for lunch! No doubt! And if they wait that way (1 car = 1 croc), it’s certainly because they (or another croc generation) had already careless drivers for lunch. And it seems they liked it! How treacherous crocs are!

 

Well, this is the end of my story. We left the jumpy croc terribly disappointed. The other one next to the other car was surely feeling a lot more hopeful. Paul commented in his usual protective manner:

 

“Didn’t I tell you that leaving the car is very dangerous!?”

 

He was referring to the several occasions I menaced stepping outside to get a better angle for a picture. It’s evident that I never had the intention of doing it, and from now on even less I’ll have. It has just been my way of complaining about taking pictures from the window, sometimes with the car in movement and even so hearing:

 

“Close the window! There’s a lion nearby…”

 

“Close it because baboons can be a nuisance…”

 

When I turned my back to the lagoon, I had a great definition for this kind of park in my mind: a place where we are only one car away from becoming lunch.

Diaphanous Unbreakable Chain

 

 

This is a love

Requiring no words

Time

Space

Touch

To be

Endlessly

 

And then

Very soon
Very quietly
The miracle

Renews

 

 

I only wished
February
But then
(Thankfully)
Each life has
Its own tonality

In beauty and contingency
    In commonness and geniality

So that
Emotion

Continues
Intact
Exactly
Abstract

My Refuge

 

From time to time I hear about people incapable of facing their problems. Instead, they usually seek refuge in various palliatives. That might explain things like drugs, crime and other social behaviors.

 

I always believed I am someone capable of naming my own ghosts, but one of these days I found myself wondering if I don’t have hideouts of my own. Of course I have. I am not worry free. It just happens my refuges are socially acceptable: dance, exercising, writing…

 

The other day I went to my hairdresser for a trim. In the end, I realized I could have been using my fringe to hide my eyes. How I missed the guys! I think I’m going to be more careful in the future.

 

From that I extrapolated to wondering if I’m not using my hair as a refuge. It’s not a simple question to answer, since my hair seems to be moody. Hair usually is! Mine keeps me between two options: 1) Medium length with short fringe. 2) Long length with long fringe.

 

Why not short? If I wear it shoulder length or even shorter, my hair becomes so strong that I have to keep volume under control through special frequent cuts and/or frequent blow-drying, things I don’t believe to be healthy. And even so, if careless I would risk hearing someone improperly call me lioness – since lions are the ones who got all the hair.

 

Ponytails and most behaved solutions are not good for my almost straight heavy hair. Keeping it long is a simple way of fighting its natural volume without living in the hairdresser, an idea I don’t fancy a bit. Another problem is that my hair grows in high speed (heavy hair usually do), and it’s like the more I cut the faster it grows.

 

That’s why I am not sure about hiding behind my own hair, like a comics character I used to read. Maybe… Wearing long hair is sometimes an option of someone without options. Nevertheless, it could be a worse hideout.