It is 4pm on the last day of the year 2009, and all is well at house 204. The sun is slanting though a slow build up of gathering clouds, and flooding my varanda with honey colored sunlight causing the leaves of the potted plants to cast glorious shadows on each other and the polished concrete floor. It's the time of day I have always loved best - artists call it the "golden hour" , that time when the sky is full of magic, and everything is colored by a warm blanket of golden light that leaves long delicious shadows, and makes one want to linger so as to soak up every bit of the enchanted atmosphere.
I have told Benson he can go home, but he lingers on, saying he wants to finish pulling a few weeds in the vegetable garden. I think he too senses the magic in the air, and wants to sit quietly pulling weeds as he breathes in the pervading sense that all is well in the world at least at this time and in this place.
The rainy season has come with it's daily rain, and clashing thunder. It has caused my yard to spring to life, and sing at the top of it's lungs. Everywhere are brightly colored flowers, and the trees, and bushes are exploding with new life. Benson claims the rain carries not just a source of water, but food to them. He calls it "food water".
I am so blessed to be here at this time, in this place. John and I are healthy and happy, as are our kids, and grandkids. We have everything we need, and most of what we want. We are so thankful for our many, many blessings. We wish you the very best of New Years, and that you, and all your loved ones enjoy health, wealth, and happiness in the comming new year.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
The Meaning of Life
Life seems to me to be all about regeneration, replication, passing the torch so to speak. Every living thing seems to have one basic aim, replication. When you really stop to think about it, it's the basic engineering aim of every living thing from the smallest plant, to the largest animal. It's all about making sure that the spark of life is preserved, passed on to live yet another life. Basically everything boils down to that. We are all just flowers in God's garden. Something pretty to amuse him. Maybe a weed to be pulled. Here today, and gone tomorrow, but leaving our seeds behind to flower next spring. No more and no less.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
Every once in a while I get hit in the face with the fact that I am in a foreign country. Most of the time life here is good, and it's easy to forget that outside our little "mine protected bubble" life is quite different. Being American I tend to take basic rights for granted, and expect that no matter where I am, certain things like being assumed innocent until proven guilty, are universal. How wrong that assumption is.
Last nite we received a call from a security officer at the mine. It seems that the local police acting on a tip, raided the home of one of the locals, confiscated what in their minds was stolen mine property, and threw the "thief" in jail. The thief, our gardener Benson, protested loudly, and repeatedly told the police that he was not a thief, and that the item in question, a broken electrical transformer, was given to him by his employer. (me) The police would have none of it, and were sure that a local citizen who was living in a hut without electricity, would and should not own such an item. This resulted in his being jailed first, and an the investigation made later.
Benson likes all things mechanical and electrical. They facinate him, probably because he does not have electricity or mechanical items at home. I had a transformer I was using to run my treadmill, and it started to malfunction, causing damage to the treadmill's motor. Due to this I was putting the broken transformer in the trash one day, and of course Benson spied it. He wanted it very much. I told him it was broken, and that it was also something that was of no use to him - that it took African energy and "made it smaller" to work American appliances. He still wanted it. So I gave it to him.
Now it has caused him to be thrown into jail, for the local police are sure it is an important piece of mine property that has been stolen. We told the security representative that called last nite that it was a broken transformer, and that we had given it to Benson. They in turn should have reported this to the police, but this morning I have been informed that Benson is still being held in jail.
This morning I contacted mine security, and have been advised that John, not me (I am a woman and not to be believed, for as a female I am a non-person) needs to go down to the police station and make a statement. Poor Benson. I feel so sorry for him. I guess the moral of this story is that I should not be giving items to Benson, even if he wants them very much, for someone somewhere might see it, and decide that it is something he should not or could not be the owner of, and problems will ensue.
Last nite we received a call from a security officer at the mine. It seems that the local police acting on a tip, raided the home of one of the locals, confiscated what in their minds was stolen mine property, and threw the "thief" in jail. The thief, our gardener Benson, protested loudly, and repeatedly told the police that he was not a thief, and that the item in question, a broken electrical transformer, was given to him by his employer. (me) The police would have none of it, and were sure that a local citizen who was living in a hut without electricity, would and should not own such an item. This resulted in his being jailed first, and an the investigation made later.
Benson likes all things mechanical and electrical. They facinate him, probably because he does not have electricity or mechanical items at home. I had a transformer I was using to run my treadmill, and it started to malfunction, causing damage to the treadmill's motor. Due to this I was putting the broken transformer in the trash one day, and of course Benson spied it. He wanted it very much. I told him it was broken, and that it was also something that was of no use to him - that it took African energy and "made it smaller" to work American appliances. He still wanted it. So I gave it to him.
Now it has caused him to be thrown into jail, for the local police are sure it is an important piece of mine property that has been stolen. We told the security representative that called last nite that it was a broken transformer, and that we had given it to Benson. They in turn should have reported this to the police, but this morning I have been informed that Benson is still being held in jail.
This morning I contacted mine security, and have been advised that John, not me (I am a woman and not to be believed, for as a female I am a non-person) needs to go down to the police station and make a statement. Poor Benson. I feel so sorry for him. I guess the moral of this story is that I should not be giving items to Benson, even if he wants them very much, for someone somewhere might see it, and decide that it is something he should not or could not be the owner of, and problems will ensue.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
August in Zambia
August in Zambia reminds me of home. There is a feeling that inhabits the air, one that brings memories of early autumn. It's a foreshadowing, or promise if you will, of the things to come. A feeling the color of grey, yet alive and bright. A wind with just the hint of a bite. It's the first stirrings of the days to come, and it makes me want to go and dig out my gloves and stocking hat - but not quite yet. A cool breeze not too cool, yet just cool enough to speak of crisp mornings, and days spent working in the yard wearing a coat for protection from cold wind.
It's the feel of cold cheeks and hands warm from work outdoors on days alive with Fall. It's sunsets clouded in haze as the wind blows the last bits of summer through the air. It makes me think of October, that Halloween will be here soon, and Christmas on it's way. Thoughts of wind, snow, and ice - of chilly days and pumpkin pie.
Then I remember where I am - Zambia. October is the hottest month of the year here, and December not much cooler. There will be no Halloween. Christmas will be just another summer day spent alone. Once again John will be working, or sleeping recovering from working all the night before. How I miss autumn!
But still today it's late August in Zambia, and there's that look in the sky, that bite in the air! Soon it will be Halloween......................
It's the feel of cold cheeks and hands warm from work outdoors on days alive with Fall. It's sunsets clouded in haze as the wind blows the last bits of summer through the air. It makes me think of October, that Halloween will be here soon, and Christmas on it's way. Thoughts of wind, snow, and ice - of chilly days and pumpkin pie.
Then I remember where I am - Zambia. October is the hottest month of the year here, and December not much cooler. There will be no Halloween. Christmas will be just another summer day spent alone. Once again John will be working, or sleeping recovering from working all the night before. How I miss autumn!
But still today it's late August in Zambia, and there's that look in the sky, that bite in the air! Soon it will be Halloween......................
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