I woke up, with the distinct feeling that it was not time to get out of bed.
The sun was up, my valley in the shadows of the hills surrounding it, but cool and wrapped in morning sun on the leaves.
Beauty. It is a perception, in the eye of the beholder.
My spirits have soared with the promise of a day of sun.
We live in a global village. Yesterday, I decided to take a walk round my valley. Shocked me to realise that it has been years since I explored it. Typical urbanite. I wake up and work, go to work, or play, or go out- without knowing what is happening in my neighbourhood. Its too close for me to see. Like a huge bolder perched on my nose.
I walked the roads. Thick red dust, each footfall followed by a small dust-storm. Sun was brilliant hot. Yet not uncomfortable.
I took the paths I had not taken since I was a child, and found that I have been living blind. The places where we used to hunt for mangoes, the open spaces where we used to play hide and seek- (not true, where we used to go digging), they are gone. There are houses everywhere. Even where I did not expect them to be.
The city has sprawled out, eating into the trees, which are now the orphans. I think I am just lucky to still live in the garden of trees. Or maybe I am not. Even where the houses are piled up together on the hillsides, the trees are still hanging on.
The people are poor. But the children still play and laugh, unrestrained. There is evidence of cottage industries at every road junction.
My wanderings led me home- where I grew up. Maama was not around, but the old place was as usual. And I remembered to pack my bag full of avocado fresh from the tree. My lover loves it.
Our world is a global village- had not realised how crowded it had become.
Of the papers, the red rug seems convinced that the end of the world is near. Means there is no juicy scandal. The EastAfrican is a weekly, so it presents history instead of news. How Kikwete of Tanzania managed to breakthrough the deadlock in
Speaking of politics, Hillary is throwing the kitchen sink at Obama. I am glad to know that stupidity is not the reserve of our African leaders. So, she is tearing the party apart, in the name of winning. She is a throwback to our politicians. If it had been in
The land wars are ongoing. The Kabaka vs the President. I really love logic. It seems to sort through stupidity very quickly. But logic is a perception. So, it is a matter of fact that what I think is logical to me, the Kabaka and President may think it is stupidity.
Oh well, life continues.
I can rail at all that is wrong with my world, and forget the things that are right with it.
My thanks to all of you who have commented on the matter of faith and the gay Ugandan. Truth to say, I was not aware that I was so worried. Concerned.
Maybe I should have trusted my lover more- but again, is there any logic in religion?
He could not sleep last night. Worried about a business deal. I held him in my hands, just happy that I was with him.
Life is quirky, not easy. I was worried about the religion thing, because it strikes at the heart of our relationship. (Yeah, had a lover who told me that it was a sin to make love. I felt like I was a piece of dung at that moment. Degraded. Why should my love be a sin?) My lover was not so worried. He is more concerned about the more practical things of bread and butter and food on the table.
It is a beautiful, brilliant hot day out, and I am grateful for that.