Sometimes bones age faster than the spirit. For others their spirit fades faster than bones. Some weren't meant for this world being of another, dreaming of the moon and floating as if they were already spirits, feeling the tug of their other worldly home calling to them. The spark in their eye flits in and out of the world.
Some were born with old spirits and although young outside, their spirit gained the wisdom of age, bringing with it, its experiences from a past life. This spirt comes whole and can remember, so there are the young that are cautious, the spark in their eye showing true deep thought. Some are born whole and remember the love in the world, these are the kind spirits among us, the spark in their eye is empathy.
Some spirits are born in pieces within us and dont remember. Born lost from the very beginning, these are the ones reckless in life and their spark in their eye wild and hungry.
Some are born with rage for injustices done in the world, the spark in their eye is one of anger.
Some spirits know. The spark in their eye flits in and out of this world, the spark in their eye shows deep thought, the spark in their eye shows empathy, the spark in their eye show wildness and hunger, the spark in their eye show anger, the spark in their eye show love and understanding.
Its not the outside that counts. Its the energy inside you. Time flies swiftly and takes with you the youthfulness of your skin, the shine of your hair, the flexibility in your bone joints and for some it takes the spirit in you.
But for some, the spirit burns and its the only thing that time cannot take from us. It becomes knowing : of the ephemeral life, thinks deeply about the world, sympathizes with those who cannot stand on their own, is angry at the ones who step on the ones who cannot stand, is the spirit that searches hungrily for answers in the wild, its the spirit that grows to love and understand the balance that life has to offer. Life is not unfair, we percieve it as so. But the spirit that grows, that is not afraid to be kind, to be angry, to be lost and to love is the one who understands that life seeks balance and so must we.
Tuesday 27 March 2012
Tuesday 6 March 2012
South Road
Sand Creek sitting in the valley, Sand Creek you make me so happy to see the old and young, blue mountains around, what a pretty, pretty site, its my home town.
There is a song out there, written by Basil Rodriques if Im not mistaken, it could of been Winston Pugsley, the headmaster of Sand Creek at the time. It goes like this; Rainy Season has come again, alot of people do not like the rain, mosquito, mis'o, kabaro, mareiw, kibaro all around. Lightening and thunder, muddy savannahs, But we plant our peppers, plant our cassava....
So I cant remember all the lyrics, but my point is this... I LOVE THE RAINY SEASON. Because this is when life happens, when love happens (or sex) and friendships are forged on the road admist mud, rain, sweat, rum, iron and rope. So yes, there are more mosquiotes and Kabaoro, but its a sign of life-the rain creates an opportunity for growth, for renewal. It dampens the dust of the dry season that would punish any travelers eyes on the south road. The negative side is break downs and stick up increases as the muddy earth suck onto the jeeps wheels and pull it to a stop. The water gets everywhere causing electrical problems, contaminated oil, weakened bearings and such. But think about the positive things that come out of these...every south traveler has a story about the road, has many stories of the road...I want to begin with my mum and uncle Malek.
Im young, I think eight or nine, traveling back from Lethem in the land rover 40-39 late at night, and of course all the adults had been drinking in front of uncle Don and Aunty Shirley's before we left.... This is through white rock, for those of you who know and we get a puncture. Mundane enough for a break down, but we have no spare and its swarming with mosquitoes, we have only ration and alcohol. So the adults began to drink (as a bug repllent you see). I curl up in the punctured tyre slapping away at mosquitoes. Then I hear uncle Malek and my mum start to sing. I start to dance. My repellent you see, the faster I move, the less chance I get bitten. They sing old country and western songs, El Paso, by Marty Robbins, Clementine, Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton and Country Road by John Denver, substituting South Rupununi for west virginia.
To this day when I hear that song, I rememeber that night, dancing under white rock mountain with my mum and uncle Malek singing every country song they knew. Boling an egg in a half of a beer can and when it rained the fire fizzled out...they sang louder under the tarpulin and I danced. I dont think I can dance like that again. No one came that night for us. When the rain abated, i curled in my mums lap, dressed my dad's camel trophy T-shirt and fell asleep.
There is a song out there, written by Basil Rodriques if Im not mistaken, it could of been Winston Pugsley, the headmaster of Sand Creek at the time. It goes like this; Rainy Season has come again, alot of people do not like the rain, mosquito, mis'o, kabaro, mareiw, kibaro all around. Lightening and thunder, muddy savannahs, But we plant our peppers, plant our cassava....
So I cant remember all the lyrics, but my point is this... I LOVE THE RAINY SEASON. Because this is when life happens, when love happens (or sex) and friendships are forged on the road admist mud, rain, sweat, rum, iron and rope. So yes, there are more mosquiotes and Kabaoro, but its a sign of life-the rain creates an opportunity for growth, for renewal. It dampens the dust of the dry season that would punish any travelers eyes on the south road. The negative side is break downs and stick up increases as the muddy earth suck onto the jeeps wheels and pull it to a stop. The water gets everywhere causing electrical problems, contaminated oil, weakened bearings and such. But think about the positive things that come out of these...every south traveler has a story about the road, has many stories of the road...I want to begin with my mum and uncle Malek.
Im young, I think eight or nine, traveling back from Lethem in the land rover 40-39 late at night, and of course all the adults had been drinking in front of uncle Don and Aunty Shirley's before we left.... This is through white rock, for those of you who know and we get a puncture. Mundane enough for a break down, but we have no spare and its swarming with mosquitoes, we have only ration and alcohol. So the adults began to drink (as a bug repllent you see). I curl up in the punctured tyre slapping away at mosquitoes. Then I hear uncle Malek and my mum start to sing. I start to dance. My repellent you see, the faster I move, the less chance I get bitten. They sing old country and western songs, El Paso, by Marty Robbins, Clementine, Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton and Country Road by John Denver, substituting South Rupununi for west virginia.
To this day when I hear that song, I rememeber that night, dancing under white rock mountain with my mum and uncle Malek singing every country song they knew. Boling an egg in a half of a beer can and when it rained the fire fizzled out...they sang louder under the tarpulin and I danced. I dont think I can dance like that again. No one came that night for us. When the rain abated, i curled in my mums lap, dressed my dad's camel trophy T-shirt and fell asleep.
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