A Series of Unfortunate Events: Initiation into Africa

Sunday mornings usually unfold in the same manner each week; a walk through the market, spending a couple hours at the café with friends, writing emails and playing around on the internet; this past Sunday was another story. I arrived at the café and was feeling slightly spacey, definitely not myself. I turned on my computer drank some water and checked my mail. All of a sudden I felt incredibly light headed and needed to leave a noisy café, my friend noticed my skin tone turn ashen and she took me outside for air. I was expecting to faint, I was seeing stars and I felt very weak, I sat down and tried taking deep breaths. I decided I should get home so I waited outside for my friend to gather my belongings and at this point my eyes were wide open and I couldn’t see, I was too sick to feel afraid. The next thing I remember I was laying on the ground hearing voices saying; ‘she needs a doctor’, ‘she needs to get out of the sun’. It was so odd and surreal because I knew they were standing over me talking about me, but I wasn’t understanding any of it, I was so distant and didn’t realize it was I laying there on the ground, and then someone lifted me up and took me to a car, I was sweating profusely and thought I was going to melt. After 10 minutes I began to shiver and needed to be wrapped in blankets. My flatmate took me to the clinic and the doctor took my blood pressure then immediately took me to the treatment room and prepared a saline iv. I spent four hours in bed receiving the saline drip which regulated my blood pressure, the doctor was surprised I could have even walked into the clinic because my blood pressure had been dangerously low; when my iv treatment was completed I was treated for malaria. I felt devoid of life for a week, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t leave my bed, I had a terrible head ache, and was nauseated by every smell, sound, and movement. Alas I am well now and other than the development of a slight paranoia to mosquitoes I feel healthy and kind of proud of my brush with malaria. Another page in the story of my life, they say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I think what doesn’t kill you, enlightens you and offers freedom. Human beings are marvelous creations with such depth and variation. To be able to see your own development in difficult times is a great gift and I am always surprised with life, its ups and downs. Anything else would be a terrible bore. Stay with yourself and let life be the ultimate educator proving unique lessons and pop quizzes all designed for you.

simple thoughts

I am almost always sweating, I haven’t had a proper shower in months, and if the cold water works the hot facet is most definitely broken on my tub. I wash my cloths by hand and am unconvinced I ever really get them clean. My feet are always dirty and usually have at least two or three blisters on them. My hands have perpetual cuts and scratches. My hair has not been cut in over 6 months and I lost my brush the second week I arrived here. I brought a gold nail polish with me from home and it has taken the role as a clever device to hide the constant dirt that appears under my nails. I judge my “clean” cloths on how hot it was the last time I wore them, the hotter the day the less likely its one of my options, and I have never felt more beautiful.

Bugs have become company and I wonder where they are when there are not 30 ants marching along the wall in my kitchen. The rainy season is a terrible nuisance and the roads are a nauseating mess. The shabbiness of the flats and general appearance of most properties is startling. Hearing about a woman’s husband who drinks the little money they have away and looking into her brown watery eyes while sitting in her two room home where 6 people live as the flies swarm around me, and knowing that I’ve never know such hopelessness is, is quite frankly impossible for me to put into words. But I have never witnessed such a meaningful world.

Its so amazing to look at a calendar and know that in the next two months I am going to see my mothers beautiful face, and I will go to the store with my father and go to my home and share dinner with my family. I feel at home here in my humble apartment in Zambia, I have found friends in the strangers I once knew to be my fellow interns. I’ve tasted independence and the rush of stepping outside myself and I really like the taste of it. I am enthralled by all of this. I want to capture every image and conversation because they are so full of honesty. I hope to become that honesty and be the fresh air that I have indulged myself in for others to be embraced by.

Africa

Africa is a continent full of mystery, full of ancient tradition, full of life and death. Since arriving in Zambia I have lived a lifetime in 4 months, I have witnessed my mind expand and a sense of home coming for the person I found within myself. I feel grateful for everything, for every moment has acted as my personal guide and teacher. I have been reading African literature and I am continually intrigued by the soul that emerges when one tries to capture Africa in words. A bloody history, an oppressed race, famine, corruption; these afflictions have riddled the past and continue to plague African soils today but a certain essence, a raw and unbridled life force exists.

I have developed quite a love affair with Ethiopia: one of the oldest nations in the world and Africa's second-most populated nation. It has some of the oldest traces of humanity, making it an important area in the history of human evolution. Many scholars believe that Ethiopia is the final resting place of the Arc of the Covenant. The famous golden box described throughout history, which holds the stone tablet which Yahweh inscribed the 10 commandments on. This is one of the most infamous legends of all time, but if I may recommend "The Sign and the Seal" by Graham Hancock you may open your mind to the very real possibility of a grand historical illusion that we have all accepted as fact.

I will not go into further detail about the book here, but I will explain why I chose to write about it. I was captivated by one man’s journey and commitment to a personal goal where he alone was the final judge and arbitrator of success or failure. It was a pursuit of character more than the retrieval of an object, seeking understanding and finding the peace that abounds for those who accept their potential for something more than mediocrity and take life to its limits. I feel there is a great quest awaiting all of us; some may know what it is, and others are still working towards this knowing. But perhaps in the end it is never about coveting the “ark” and displaying it on your shelf, it is about the quest and the intense periods of self-doubt, fear, disillusionment- and yet still being compelled to go on, remaining committed to being your level best in the pursuit of freedom.

Thus far, my time in Africa has shown me that life is not required to be fair and great suffering is reality. But life is beautiful in its contrasting colors and impermanence. Herein lays our potential to work with this double edge sword of life and carve for ourselves something unique and exquisite that we can be proud of. There were many times I told myself I could not make this journey to Africa and I tried very hard to convince myself as to why I should not come. I was afraid and yet resolved to go, anxious and very excited. I was eagerly waiting for this time to come and I wish to continue living in such fashion; writing and experiencing all corners of this earth in search of my arc.

Datta, dayadhvam, damyata
Shantih shantih shantih.

Zanzibar Part 5: Kindness

If I happen to forget all of my memories and I can only have one to hold, I believe this would be the memory;

After walking all over Stone Town in the heat and crowds we are unsuccessful in finding an ATM with money. Between me and my travelling comrade we have 400 thousand shillings, translation: 350 dollars. The catch is, it has to last us 7 days. My friend is slightly stressed, fortunately I have inherited my fathers’ ability to remain calm in the face of adversity and I reassure my friend we will be fine, it was only adding to the adventure. We have to get to the other side of the island and we need to find a taxi. Hailing down a cab was easy; bartering a price we could actually afford was not so easy. The driver was perplexed as we sat exasperated on our packed bags and explained that we had very little money, and would truly appreciate him helping us out by lowering his price to our almost criminal offer. Thinking quick we offer him a cell phone as well, a cell phone and 30 dollars. He wanted to see the phone. We show him the cheapest model of a motorolla phone and he laughs. At this point he realized we were desperate and he settled for the cheap phone and 30 bucks in return for his 2 hour taxi drive into the remote village of Jambiani. He said that he hoped we would remember this act of kindness, he wasn’t mad or irritated, and he was helping out 2 foreigners because he could.

We started on our drive very relieved and grateful to be on our way to Jambiani. Our driver; Abraham was a lovely man, we learned about his life. He has a wife and two children. He was born and raised on the island. He wanted to know about us and our country. He was a kind person. Everything was going great, until the back tire went flat and we were once again outside in the heat. Abraham was more concerned that we were going to be annoyed than he was about the flat tire and jack that was too small to lift the vehicle. 5 minutes after we were waiting by the side of the road a large cargo truck-full of men drives by and sees the scene. The truck immediately pulls over; they all jump out and fix the van in one minute. Although there was work for one person, they all helped out. They all wanted to be of assistance. When the tire was changed they all jumped in the truck again and drove off. It was actually funny how quickly the problem was solved and the manner in which it unfolded, the world was showing me how generous people can be.

Back in the van. We remember we did not actually make a confirmation at the guesthouse we are travelling to, we only made a tentative reservation, the guy who ran the guesthouse (his name was Mr. Dude- I swear to you) said it would be cool for us to show up. Show up we did. Arriving in Jambiani our taxi driver helps us unload our bags; we all hug and exchange thanks and best wishes. Mr. Dude comes out looking worried; we figure he has no room for us. He explains that all of the rooms are full-but-he has done up his room for us to have for the week. He takes our bags down to his quarters and sure enough Dude has prepared his room for us. We just cannot believe his kindness, giving up his own room in his own guesthouse for us; he is going to stay down the beach at his friends place!!! And this is the best part- he tells us that he is only going to charge us half the price of a regular room! So the universe out did itself again demonstrating how perfect life can play out when you relinquish control and have faith.

The time spent at Dude’s guesthouse was beyond all fun I’ve ever had, we had beautiful meals and comfortable beds each night. At the end of my stay I really couldn’t have asked for anything else other than more time. Not only did everything work out perfectly, I still had about 50 dollars left over.

The kindness could not be contained in the bodies of Mr. Dude, Abraham, the men in the truck, and all of the people who were part of that day, the kindness overflowed and swept me away with its current. I am happy to be floating along in the river of kindness of that memory.

Zanzibar Part 4: Under the Sea

Hours before the tide was in, there was approximately 25 ft of beach, now the tide has receded back into the wide open ocean and all you can see is white sand and patches of water that have gotten trapped when the rest of the waves rolled back into the horizon, they look like aqua-marine mirages against the glowing sand. My friends and I walked on the ocean floor for a mile or so until we reached the water again, there the dhows were sailing around. A fisherman asks if we would like to go sailing, of course why not, so we jump into his boat and begin to make some distance between the shallows of the sea and deeper waters. The rice bag sail holds strongly and the captain; “Captain James” is bare foot out on the glider singing and playing games with the winds. 15 minutes pass and we set anchor, jump out and swim in the crystal blue waters. Captain James has some snorkelling gear in the dhow so we gear up and explore the treasures of the ocean. Brilliant fish flash their colors everywhere, the coral stands like a grand statue; magnificent star fish the size of dinner plates decorate the sand floor glowing bright red and grey-blue. Giant shells and oysters sparkle as the sun diffracts through the water molecules; everything is dazzling. Hours pass and we have happily tried our bodies out, we climb back into the dhow and we are on our way. My skin was deep brown and salted by the sun and sea, my body was relaxed and well worked, my imagination was entertained by the life under the sea, and my mind still from the radiant wonders of the day. Oh life. Another day in paradise.

Zanzibar Part 3: full of adventure, full of discovery

Ithaca is a beautiful poem written by C.P. Cavafy in the late 1800s, I have read and re-read this poem hundreds of times. The poem speaks of the journey we are on and the one destination where we are all going to find ourselves eventually, throughout this journey we encounter everything. We meet great teachers, we find love, we find struggle and we learn from all of it; "it" becomes the journey itself and we become each day, each sight, smell; we become the journey, it is who we are. The words in Ithaca were words to me for a long time, but now I have set sail and I am discovering the world and all of its treasures. I want to share the poem with you and I do hope the same inspiration finds you and awakens your inner adventurer.

As you set out for Ithaka hope your road is a long one, full of adventure, full of discovery. Laistrygonians, Cyclops, angry Poseidon-don't be afraid of them: you'll never find things like that on your way as long as you keep your thoughts raised high, as long as a rare excitement stirs your spirit and your body. Laistrygonians, Cyclops, wild Poseidon-you won't encounter them unless you bring them along inside your soul, unless your soul sets them up in front of you. Hope your road is a long one. May there be many summer mornings when, with what pleasure, what joy, you enter harbors you're seeing for the first time; may you stop at Phoenician trading stations to buy fine things, mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony, sensual perfume of every kind- as many sensual perfumes as you can; and may you visit many Egyptian cities to learn and go on learning from their scholars. Keep Ithaka always in your mind. Arriving there is what you're destined for. But don't hurry the journey at all. Better if it lasts for years, so you're old by the time you reach the island, wealthy with all you've gained on the way, not expecting Ithaka to make you rich. Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey. Without her you wouldn't have set out. She has nothing left to give you now. And if you find her poor, Ithaka won't have fooled you. Wise as you will have become, so full of experience, you'll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

Zanzibar Part 2: Jambiani

I pull into a old fishing community on the west coast of Zanzibar. This spectacular community is called Jambiani. The streets are sand, traffic includes bicycles, cow drawn carts, chickens, goats, walkers, and the odd moped, motorcycle, or taxi van. All of the homes are made of cement brick, but it is the most intriguing sight because it looks as if they have all freeze framed in the middle of a great ruination of the village, they all have holes in their walls, and there are crumbled bricks and debris all around. It is truly the vista of a lost community in the midst of a great jungle. Jambiani is so exquisite in its modesty and honesty it would humble the Queen of Sheba.

It is an Islamic village and the one mosque is in the centre of the village, it is a small white structure consisting of three walls and a roof. It was really neat watching the men at prayer, it was seeing religion in its most raw form, groups of believers gathered together in a tiny forgotten village on the coast of a tropical island. I am glad to know these traditions are able to preserve themselves away from the deceitful parts of religion that slowly pervade and taint the beauty of believing.

The guest house I was staying at was on the ocean, kilometers of white sand. The only people moving about are the fisherman, the children playing in the waves, women catching octopus, beach boys roaming the beach. The ocean is full of a hand crafted sail boats called Dhow’s ; the dhow is an Islamic creation. A small sail boat that instead of having a deck of any sort, is a hollow. The hollow is about 5 ft and that’s where you stand. There are 2 extensions on either side of the body that run the length of the boat which act as a gliders, they balance the ship. The mast stands about 10 ft in the air, the sail is made of out rice bags sewn together, there is a wooden rudder at the back of the boat. The entire thing is hand crafted, right down to the nails. It’s a work of art really, and this is what the ocean is full of.

The diet of the locals is fish, rice, fruit and vegetables. I have never felt so healthy and alive as I did when I was living on the beach. Every morning I had coffee, mango, pineapple, banana, home made buns and fresh jams. Every evening I had fresh fish from the day, and I am talking a fish; they fish is prepared whole, and they put the whole thing on your plate, I can’t lie it took some getting used to. Everything I ate was a product of that day, from the trees and from the ocean, delicious food, for pennies, wow, eating will never be the same for me.

The weather was dream like, very hot with a gorgeous ocean breeze. The ocean was both literally and figuratively the place to chill out. I would spend my days relaxing on the beach, swimming, snorkeling, reading, laughing, all according to nothing except the next moment. It was peace and tranquility at its best. The moon and the stars were gracious in lighting up the sky each night. There are no lights in Jambiani so the stars create a dome over the entire village, you feel safe the way the stars wrap around the whole coast and moon illuminates the ocean. Then comes the sun rise and as the moon and stars are diminishing in the sky, a quiet and maternal warmth begins to transform the dark into the morning light. The clouds of the night absorb the light of the sun and all you see is a sky of pinks, oranges, purples, blues, and yellows. Then before your eyes a golden beam of light brilliantly shines through the clouds. The majestic scene is enhanced as the villagers begin to wake and the fisherman and woman begin their day in the silent hours of dawn.

I sit and know beyond the depths of unknowing that I am very blessed to be alive in this world of sun rises and sun sets. A world of culture, of tradition, of humility, of grace. I can recall most every moment of my time in Jambiani and I think that is because I had no distractions in my mind. I have never felt so still and at peace, I am sure the essence of life lives in Jambiani with no masks or veils to elude herself from its people. My body and mind were nourished completely.

I hope the time comes when you can be in Jambiani receiving this spiritual nourishment, but I know that the distance between myself and Jambiani, and the distance between yourself and Jambiani is interchanging wind and shared light from the sun and moon. So let that breeze from Jambiani refresh you, let the sun warm your heart, and let the peace of that place find you wherever you are, and as the locals say; “Hakkuna Matata”;

Let there be no worries.

Zanzibar Part 1: The Massi

Along the white sandy beach in Kwengwa I was lost in the turquoise ocean and pale blue sky that merged together at the furthest point that my eye could see. The waves crashing against the shore and rustle of ocean breeze through the giant palms serenaded me. Walking down the beach I came across many beach huts selling art work and hand made jewelery, I was especially captivated by one such cluster of huts because they belonged to a group of Massi. The Massi are one of the most prominent African tribal groups still strong after the effects of time and modernization, they still wear the traditional garb of red sarongs draped around their bodies. They are fully adorned with stunning works of beads, around their ankles, wrists, necks, enlarged ear lobes hold more decorations. They keep machetes that have been used for killing lions, they walk with thin rods of wood that remind one of a wise sage.

I spent some time looking through their work and learning a couple of words in Swahili, I could not resist asking them to perform a traditional dance and they were glad to show me. They gathered into a circle and began chanting and making beautiful sounds together, like individual instruments coming together forming one orchestra. Their movements came from shaking their shoulders and pulsating their chests, they would pulsate towards one another and I could feel the energy being created and transferred into the group, and the jumping! The Massi have become famous for their incredible jumping during their song and dance and I have become a believer. They jump so high into the air after a high note of singing, and the stomping of their bodies back down on the earth must be to ground the energy they just created, that’s my theory anyways.

Song after song I watched with absolute awe and without realizing the moment one of the Massi men took my hand and pulled me into this magnetic field of energy. I started to follow their movements and someone placed a necklace of beads around my neck, the necklace rested around my collarbone but had long, thin chains of silver that ended in a small discs of silver cymbal like objects. When I was able to add to the sounds I really lost track of where the sound was coming from, I lost track of time, of inhibitions, I was dancing on the beach with a group of Massi. It was surreal and beautiful. I will never forget the magic of that morning. I still have the necklace and wearing it brings me instantly back to everything, the sights, the sounds, the fun. It was amazing.

The mixing of tradition into a world of conformity was like standing underneath a waterfall and having all conceptions of what one “should be”, “should look like”, “should behave a certain way” etc erased. There should be no should be’s! Lets all remember how fun life can be, how it feels to be kind with no thought of reciprocation, how easy it is to be content when we cleanse ourselves of should have, would have, could have mentality. Let us simply BE.