PLEASE Mr President

Week Forty – seven: Sunday 19 – Saturday 25 August

Just as two new friends departed from my life last week, so an old friend re-entered after a six-year absence. The ebb and flow that is life.

Mike is a guy I know from my days in Zimbabwe. His partner, Ulla, is also a Zimbabwean, as is my wife. So inevitably the conversation got round to the complete and utter carnage of a country and its people that is currently the state Zimbabwe finds itself in.

I'm coming at it from an outsiders point of you, as someone who lived and worked there as a traveller passing through for a few months. Yes, I believe President Robert Mugabe is mad in the extreme and is single handily responsible for the viscous disregard of the people of Zimbabwe over the last twenty odd years. A disregard that has seen the country plunge like an out of control roller coaster into 4500% inflation, (and rising) 85% unemployment (and rising), acute food shortages, little or no fuel, and all the rest of the many depressing statistics that add up to untold and unimaginable suffering for millions of people.

Mike was born and brought up in northern Zimbabwe, a white guy, with privileges. Toni, my wife, was born and brought up in south-west Zimbabwe, a coloured (too white to be black, and too black to be white), she knew her place. Yet life was not without pleasure, with two educated, working parents and a country that could and would reward independent endeavour. Ulla was born and brought up in south-east Zimbabwe, a black woman from a family with diplomatic connections.

I learned a lot, and heard deep, diverse and differing arguments about the reasons for Zimbabwe's decline, Mugabe's role, African politics, tribal differences and what's needed for the future.

Reconfiguring all of the countries borders in Africa, so they take cognisance of the indigenous rural peoples, not just of, as they did, the colonisers looting requirements, may be a complete non-starter today. And many other possibilities, options and outcomes may never come about either. But one thing is for sure. Mugabe is destroying, if he hasn't already destroyed, Zimbabwe, economically, socially, politically, psychologically and spiritually. If someone doesn't stop him soon, and prevent anyone from doing the same ever again, it will be too late.

Too late for eleven million people, the economically fortunate, because they were able to leave, already part of a global diaspora. Too late for a country blessed with some of the most beautiful, breathtaking and bountiful nature and wildlife. Too late to convince this saddened soul that the human race, as a collective, has any hope of securng its own future.

Fond Farewells

Week Forty – six: Sunday 12 – Saturday 18 August

I’m not good when it comes to saying goodbye. At the best of times I put it off as long as possible, but when it comes to saying cheerio to people I have come to know and love, and may not see again, I am not at my best.

I like to be around to see them off, not just say goodbye at some point in the last few days before they go, but physically be there when they depart. I always feel sad, a little empty. Or I did, until recently.

Dave and Sarah are an Aussie/Irish combination who came to Falmouth around the same time as my family and me, last October. They ended up in a house that Tim, a fellow writing student, also moved into. Hence I got to know them, first meeting them at a fancy dress Hogmanay (New year’s eve) party.

They set-up a samba club shortly after, an informal gathering where those interested could have some fun and learn some samba rhythms under the expert and enthusiastic guidance of Sarah, ably supported by Dave.

Before long there were fifteen willing students, myself amongst them, and a first gig as the eclectic mix of locals, incomers and foreigners began to gel into something resembling a band. Festival performances followed, along with a host of birth day appearances and a jamming session with a samba band all the way from Ireland.

Through it all I, and Toni and Kumali, got to know Sarah and Dave as people and as friends and found ourselves enriched by their presence, conversation and humour. They left last week, back to Eire, their time in Falmouth complete, and we three were all sorry to see them go.

But I consoled myself with the knowledge that I was lucky to have spent any time at all getting to know two true free spirits, with an attitude to life and living that was as spot on as it was refreshing to be around. I comforted myself with the knowledge that two people with a light such as theirs need to move on constantly, so they can shine their magic on others.

And so it was a fond farewell, and I’m sure I, and my wife and daughter, will see them again someday. County Leitrim is a calling …

If You Do Nothing Else # 5

Check out this website - a little bit scary, I thought!

http://www.poodwaddle.com/worldclock.swf

Festival Fraternity

Week Forty – five: Sunday 5 – Saturday 11 August

Another lovely weekend was spent at a festival, this time Holifair, in Gweek, just outside Falmouth. The samba band, that still has no official name, I play with had a couple of gigs, one on the Saturday night and one on the Sunday afternoon, so off we all trooped.

I didn't stay over this time, came and went by car both days, and brought Toni and Kumali with me on the Sunday. With lots of ecologically and spiritually minded people running the fair, manning food, entertainment and healing stalls, singing, performing and attending, the atmosphere was lovely from the minute you entered.

Festivals are great places to spend a couple of days, communing with nature, at best, and, at worst, gentle, peaceful people. It is a fabulous environment for a young child, too. With lots of children, who don't all look like their parents shop at Tesco/Gap/Next, et cetera, running around, pumping out their never ending energy, Kumali was in her element. Although not always engaging with the new found friends, she was always soaking up their vibes nonetheless.

And there were friendly faces for Toni and I. Not just because most people had a smile on their face; many were recognisable from the Falmouth music and arts scene and from the Faery Festival we played out back in June.

I do like a festival ... although I'm a bit long in the tooth for roughing it and staying up all night partying!!

If You Do Nothing Else # 4

Watch ‘Little Miss Sunshine’: one great film, I think.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0449059/

Always Shining Wisdom

Week Forty – four: Sunday 29 July – Saturday 4 August

What's in a name? More than most people think, I imagine. Certainly it was important to me to know that the name my Zimbabwean wife wanted for our daughter, Kumali, had a meaning to it that was translatable into English. Kumalo was the family name of the reputed first king of Zimbabwe, from the Ndebele tribe, an off shoot of the Zulu. By changing the 'o' to an 'i' Toni created a lovely girl's name, and one that held its meaning: 'spirit protector'.

Recently we met a Japanese woman who explained how all Japanese names are broken down by there syllables, each syllable an actual word. The lady who told us this is called Amiko, Am-ik-o: Am = pretty, ik = little, and o= girl. So Amiko translates literally as 'pretty-little-girl'. That's a lovely name we told her; no it's not, she replied, as lots of baby girls in Japan are named Amiko!

Ku-ma-li she told us literally translates as 'always-shining-wisdom'. Now that's cool. If we are what we believe, and Kumali believes she is Kumali, then she is not only a spirit protector, but always shining wisdom as well.

That is more than enough for any father ... but, I can't help wondering what her name translates as in other languages?

Golden Brown

Week Forty – three: Sunday 22 July – Saturday 28 July

Whenever I feel the need to have a moan and a whine about my lot in life, whenever I am focusing on what I don't have instead of being thankful for what I do have, I only have to glance in my wife's direction to regain a sense of perspective.

Just over five years ago I took my then bride to be away from her family in Zimbabwe and the life she had created as an economic migrant in Botswana. Since then, as she has watched her country of birth collapse into terminal decline, and worried about the family and friends left behind trying to feed themselves, as we have made a life for ourselves thousands of miles away, she has never grumbled or complained once.

My wife is a private, reserved person; most content in company she knows well and trusts enough to be able to be herself around. But she has limited opportunities to be around such company, family and old friends, these days.

So nothing could have made me happier than to see her this weekend in the company of three of her cousins who she grew up with back in the halcyon days of Bulawayo, Zimbabwe. Like her, they have all fled Zimbabwe recently and set about establishing new lives in the British Isles. One of them was celebrating her fortieth birth day last weekend: Toni, Kumali and I joined the celebrations.

It was a good old party African style: lots of good food sizzling on the barbecue; drink in free flow; lots of good music blaring from the sound system; lots of beautiful looking brown people, adults and children. Toni had so much fun and happiness being with her three cousins, June (the birth day girl), Lyndsey and Leazel. Kumali had just as much of the same with her cousins, Toni's cousin's children. And me? I just rejoiced watching the two ladies and loves of my life having such a good time. Amen to that.