Friday, April 4, 2008

Work in Progress

Life’s a work in progress, that will never end.

I tore myself out of bed. Was morning, and the dawn called. But so did my love’s warm body, as he clung to me, wanting to make love, and to hold me as if the night long hug was not enough. I felt regret to exchange his body’s warmth, for the chill of the morning.

Chill of the morning? The cool of the morning, the song of bird, the time of day when the sun peeps out, first a shy girl’s smile, a teenage boy’s hesitant beauty, before the full blaze of day. That time of day when night gives way to light, and the cool of the night for the blazing heat of day.

It will be a hot day. That I felt in my bones, as I listened to the birds sing, watched them court and play. That song it is so beautiful, the different fervent tones, the sharp and light, the swift and slow, the loud and not.

It is a brief time of day, which is why I do not want to miss it, and daily debate between my lover’s warm embrace, and the dawn of beauty. Temptation. Life a work in progress that will never end.

Yesterday, reading a poem, Rupert Brooke, Soldier.

Was struck by a strange thought. Would Eshuneutics understand that poem?

Why Eshuneutics? Words to him have concrete meanings, set in stone, immutable. Words to me are plastic. Not my mother tongue, I claim, but I’ve never been fluent in any language. Not even the English that I read. Yet there seems to be a deeper sense in the poem. Not the surface, a soldier proud of country. But deeper, a man longing for home, home that he may not see, feel, touch, where he may not be buried, denied that final peace.

Life’s a work in progress, and I am a butterfly, flirting with all the beauty that I see. I was walking Namirembe Road, through the dust of the construction. It was a terrible stretch, now it is being repaired. I walked the pavement, in the stream of people on foot, like me, oblivious to the dust and sound. The begging children, denied school, begging for family and life and being. Not for them the discipline of school, but the harsher demands of survival. Odd’s life, but it is too easy to pity them, and forget that they do survive, even at the toughest of odds.

There is an odd pulse to life. We see it, in the bright lights, the concrete buildings, the huge edifices of the city. But that is not all life, and our sight is perverted. Life is the small person on the street, the child begging so that the family survives, the young man ready to risk lynching to grab a gold necklace, the flood of men and women not able to afford a fare home, needing to walk to work and back, anxiously hoarding the small salary for food, clothing and shelter in the city. A concrete jungle it is, yet that story is not true without the salute to the small man, the little lady, who through it all strings one day after the other, providing for self and family.

There are so many things that I would be, more things that I cannot be. Yet one thing I know, if I miss the beauty of this day- the bright sun in a cloudless sky, the whisper of cool breeze on my skin, the blazing heat of day, the eye hurting brightness of the sun’s halo; if I miss them and not see the flow of life, a child, children growing, nothing else that I see will be worth it.

Enjoy the day, because, wherever you are, it is a beautiful day. Don’t sweat the small things, just soothe the small things, and hear the sweetness in a bird’s call.

Have a great day.



Anonymous said...

Everyone's a 'work in progress'. We all work towards something and thats what gives us a reason for being.I've stumbled across your blog brother and its very inspiring! Keep uus entertained and informed.

Princess said...

I love this post! :)
My, but you do have a way with words!
Quick question?
"a teenage boy's hesitant beauty"?
Hey, I want to find me some of those beautiful teen boys!
But it seems, I'm looking in all the wrong places! LOL.

Anonymous said...

I really liked the part in the beggining when you said that you struggle between your lovers embrace and the call of the morning.

When I was with someone, i used to have to get up at 530 every morning and go to work... I had the same struggle.

As annoying as it can be to let go and have to go to work, when its not there anymore... you start to miss it. Haha

I love the way you write! Great blog. :)

lulu said...

at times it aint so easy to enjoy a day when the world is throwing crap at you and you want to die... how are you...

gayuganda said...

Hi Wildeyearnings.

for a second I thought it was Wildyearnings and my mind was all dirty... But then I came back to earth.
You's welcome, in whatever guise you take.

Loved your post, in love with your best friend who is straight and getting married, wow!

Hi Princess, thanks.
A date? We can hang out at Nandos, you look at the boys, and I look at the, well, boys! Would be fun, wouldnt it?

Lev. you are welcome.

Lulu, sorry about the day throwing crap at you. Sometimes it is like that. Hope it was ok later.


Princess said...

Yes, GUG, that would be fun! :)
*are you paying?
Listen, if you're not too busy, I'd like some help with something.
I'll send you an email in a few minutes.

Princess said...

What do you mean, "Am I alright?"
Of course, I am. I'm just having a little trouble with something.Go to your inbox and see! :)

gayuganda said...

Long as you are not too expensive, you know.

Gals are expensive, but guys! Gosh!!!! Beyond expensive.

BUT, what about my anonymity?

Princess said...

uh-oh.I'm getting my eyes crossed.that last comment was meant to go on my blog...
anonymity, I was joking at first but now, I'm reconsidering, hmmm-
But hey! U met 27th, what's the big deal?

gayuganda said...

What the big deal?

Have you asked 27th how we met?

There was this BHH. And he invited me. And I told him that I would go.

So, he reserves a chair for me, and I go and survey the bloggers for some time. Then I go to him and ask him whether I could sit down, and he says, no. Chair is reserved.

So, I left him and the group and sat nearby and watched the party. Incognito.

So, I satisfied my curiosity as to what he looks like, saw the others, and left, my anonymity intact.

He saw me, but does not remember me from Adam...

Princess said...

What possible danger could I pose, huh?

The 27th Comrade said...

Argh. GUG, you make it hard to hate you.

Hmm. That line about hesitant beauty. Okay, you write nice poems, but I need to go methodically through it, converting everything to hetero (or, failing that, then lesbian), and then, ah, it shines.

Don't read Soldier! It's for the fucking murderous Brits! It's too British for me. Can't like that poem. (But I can confess now that I've read it often enough. Struggle of commitments, Afro-vs.-Brit. Morning-vs.-Lover's embrace.)

@Princess: Just come for the next Happy Hour. I'll have GUG there. :o)

The 27th Comrade said...

I've seen your comment where you told me to go back and take on Eshuneutics. Argh. I've seen some comment there, from some anonymous, that is strange. :o)

gayuganda said...


you've just proved to me how much you and eshuneutics are alike. That would be his reaction, and was mine at first, till I went through it again. and again, and again.

And I promise you that was the first few of thousands of times that I will read it.

Hey, were you planning to hate me? Why?

Princess said...

@ 27th: I'm shy... and I want GUG all to myself. :)
So, GUG, do we have a date?
*that anonymous in the other post has a shady sense of humour!

gayuganda said...

No [firmly], we do not have a date.

My precious, precious anonymity!!

The anonymous post, huh, yeah, wonder what 27th thought!!!! Someone chiding you on having a crush on me, huh!!!!!!!

Was funny, not curious, heh?

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