An Insect in My Camera

 

A couple of months ago I spotted a bug installed inside my camera. The minuscule brownish creature was using my visor as a promenade walk. When I perceived that the bug was inside, I (malevolently) shacked the camera up and down, transforming a nice promenade into a raging storm. Impudent creature!

 

The reality is that I hadn’t been using my camera, ergo I deserved it, especially knowing, as I know, that photography is a great antidote to endemic boredom.

 

Photography, writing, tae bo and dance top my list of anti-boredom activities. On the other hand, television and movies come first in terms of boredom itself. They are great to put me into sleep as fast as a lullaby.

Seabell’s Dessert

 

Sometimes I write poetry. Sometimes I invent desserts. I’ve been doing both. Here is a dessert I put together with unexpected success. And this is what you need to try it too:

 

- exceptional yummy chocolate ice-cream

– homemade or any other good quality marzipan
- homemade or any tasty coconut-chocolate biscuit
- grated or flaked coconut to sprinkle
- fresh mint leaves

 

Start by cutting a slice of marzipan as if it were a biscuit and cover it with crystal or icing sugar. To get a coconut biscuit you have to follow the marzipan steps, substituting the almonds for grated coconut. You can dip the coconut biscuit in chocolate sauce (plain good chocolate melted) or just drizzle some over it. You place both biscuits on a serving plate. Finally, you scoop the ice cream, sprinkle it with grated or flaked coconut and add the fresh mint or whatever colorful trick you have at hand.

 

It may sound a bit busy but this dessert only plays with three great flavors: chocolate, almonds and coconut. That’s my dessert. Sometimes it’s poetry. Sometimes it’s sugar.

And Then We Become Wind

 

Assim Nos Tornamos Vento

 

Se não fosse pelo vento
Grave e soturno lamento

 

Se não fosse pela aragem
Sinal de adeus e viragem
                                    no tempo

 

Se não fosse pelo enorme peso
Do erro, da verdade e da mentira
Sempre havia

                                maresia

                                                                                                                           esquecimento

A Matter of Curiosity

 

Besides writing in here I’ve been keeping a short diary. It started with the purpose of discovering myself and then it changed into a one-way communication moment, before, finally, returning to its first purpose. So what I’ve been learning through it this far?

 

For instance, I classified each day with a “yes” or “no” in order to understand my relation with what happens around me. A “yes” day means that the way I feel hasn’t been negatively affected by facts around me. On the contrary, a “no” day means something bothered me enough to change my mood.

 

Over a period of 8 months I only noted two or three “no” days. I guess this particular part of the experience has reached an end and demanded a conclusion. As I don’t perceive myself as stridently optimistic or pessimistic, I had to conclude that most hazards and unpleasant circumstances couldn’t disturb me.

 

It’s not that I am emotionally detached from what is happening around me, but the reality shows that my basic mood doesn’t change easily. A part of me thinks “This is sad”, but that’s all. I don’t let unpleasant facts ruin my days. I sincerely hope this is not pure indifference. Being indifferent doesn’t sound flattering.

 

My few “no” days corresponded to situations where I could not control my feelings or when unexpected reactions of others caught me by surprise. Those days were negative just because I stopped being sure of what to do next.

 

The fact that I reported the huge majority of my days as positive that doesn’t mean I’ve been laughing till doubling up. I could perceive a deep, contrasting sadness lurking beneath the smoothness of my life. So I stopped to wonder about the source of that sadness and, over and over, boredom has been the explanation standing out. 

 

I guess I like the idea of being impermeable against unpleasantness, mainly because at the same time I regard myself as someone with strong feelings and emotions. I do have to work this boredom symptom that seems to be afflicting me for most of my life. One cannot live amazing adventures every single day. Sometimes we have to go to school… Sometimes we have stay home… Sometimes we have to face the real world… It’s just a question of finding new interests to keep us busy and reasonably happy.

 

As I’m still curious, I’ll keep writing and measuring my reactions towards a few other aspects. Meantime, I wonder if knowing about oneself is not a never-ending job…

Record of Dive-6

 

The day after Keket completed her first month with us JP left Mozambique for his fourth period in Qatar. It was a sad day, tormented by a grave wind. What a contrast with the summery Sunday we just had the day before! Winter here doesn’t happen gradually or suddenly. It comes through extreme variations that are both interesting and challenging. We never know what comes along with a new day.

 

Date of Dives: April 2009.

Dive Location: Mozambique.
Weather Conditions: changing winds.

 

Divers & Jobs: Andy’s emotional life is a mystery. We gave up to understand it. I think JP left disappointed with a few things. But then, isn’t disappointment a way to reach maturity? The room where JP sleeps when he doesn’t have anything better to do is empty again. Due to his periodical jobs it’s almost as if our lives have been following the patterns of seasonal work. TD’s life is about to change to a more mature scenario too. We have been trying to support JP, NB and Jo’s aspirations for more regular jobs by creating local a business. Yet, it’s not easy. I haven’t seen Vic for so long that I wouldn’t be surprised if someone said he is no longer living here. I forgot to ask JP if they have been in touch. Paul is still looking for an occupation to keep him busy through the winter and to give us some extra cash to make the difference between having a quiet average time and a few interesting programs ahead. As long as Keket is a crazy pup (as JP calls her) I am not free for big adventures. With a bit of luck, maybe I’ll be able to squeeze a visit to Marracuene and Macaneta.

Almonds Blood

 

I am currently reading an author who explains the bad red wine hangover of one character with the supposition that she might have whisky in her blood. That’s an interesting theory.

Then, the possibility that our blood could reject some stuff just because it’s programmed to accept a different kind hopped from fiction into my reality.

Over the last weeks I’ve been using and abusing of almonds, mainly in the form of homemade marzipan. I was expecting migraines, allergies and other side effects but I could get away with it. If it were peanuts or cashew I would be pretty sick. So I jumped to the conclusion that I, like that novel character, might have almonds in my blood. If that’s so, almonds are an unmistakable sign of my almost forgotten Mediterranean roots.

Two days ago I could perceive a slight note of urgency in TD’s voice when he asked: “Is the marzipan finished?”

I guess I am not the only one in this family with almonds blood type…

Reasons

 

Razões

 

 

 

 

Se eu estou cansada de mim
É porque sufoco entre quatro paredes
Fechada

 

Se a minha mão se entrelaçou na tua

É porque o sopro do pensamento a fez
Tanta e tanta vez
Alada

Have You Ever…?

 

“Have you ever been lobolada?” I asked chef Tieta shortly after Mozambican Women’s Day. Lobolo is a traditional ceremony during which the man pays to the woman’s family an amount previously agreed, in money or other specimens, so that he can take her home with him. In reality, the same word lobolo is also used as a verb and as a noun to refer the payment to the bride’s family.

 

The existence of women who wouldn’t mind to be treated as merchandise could be a strong argument against their cleverness. I cannot see a single vantage in lobolo for two main reasons: 1) Lobolo implies submission to the rules created by men and their families, a dangerous situation in a society where law is weak and expensive, beyond reach for the majority of women. 2) If women are not happy lobolo becomes serfdom, once the traditional law says a woman can only be free if she or her family is able to pay the lobolo back, something unlikely to happen due to the extreme poverty people live in. Women are forced  to stay and digest their unhappiness. Just tell me who would like to live like that?

 

So I asked Tieta if someone ever paid lobolo for her.

 

“Never,” she answered.

 

“And would you like it to have happened?”

 

“Yeesss!” she replied in a way that left no doubts about her choice.

 

No use to discuss with a set mind. For a little of appreciation (or something wrongly translated into appreciation), women seem capable of accepting anything. I mean some women, thankfully.

Seabell’s Year

 

Why not change the rules? My year started on the 10th of April and it’s going to end mid November. Year 2009, for me, is going to have seven months – a clever way I discovered to make difficult times shorter. I know I’ll remember 2009 as a long winter season.

 

My backyard was fumigated Monday. No fuss for us, big deal for residential cockroaches. We don’t have them inside the house but drains are usually infested. I was afraid the rain would wash away the nastiness of the product, but no problem until now. Monday night was cold and Tuesday brought what looks like a first winter day.

 

I sit and write these words while 5kg Keket curls inside her pink bed. Her new vet is supposed to arrive soon. Maybe because she ignores it, she sleeps peacefully. At the same time I wonder if now is the right time to go back to Marracuene and toast to a new season and a new year.

Sweet Holidays

 

I guess a great part of Easter appeal is the Friday to Monday break. I don’t think religion explains all the excitement I could perceive around, even knowing how religious people are. I think religiousness and festiveness come in a single pack to the Africans and I believe they might be following the right philosophy: religion is good as long as joyful.

 

For me this was an experimental period. I prepared marzipan and shaped it as fat almonds to share with my divers. I boiled and colored eggs, setting them in spicy dough. Traditionally it should be the sweet-spicy bread dough we call merendeiras and folar, but once again I decided to improvise.

 

This was the first Easter I could unmistakably relate with change. Change of season. Change of mind.