SMH

Today was frustrating. I miss lucie, Lucion, Nadia, my mom, Dad, and my Playstation 3. People here preach family so much and I’m beginning to feel as though I’ve forgotten how important family really is to me. The difficult thing is after seeing children here I’ve come to realize I have developed a family In Providence RI as well, and I depend on them for strength as well. I miss Kayla, Maya, Yancy, Elizabeth, The boy Gamal, and all the families of Mt. Hope I serve. I somehow wish they could all take a field trip and witness what I’m witnessing. The good and bad that is curled into the bagel twist that is Bulawayo. I miss Dunkin Doughnuts, and I never thought that would happen. Today I visited a shanty town, and my heart must have stopped about 8 times along the drive. I won’t go into detail because I think my words aren’t powerful enough to describe it. What’s worse is my guide Clifford, who is becoming like a big brother to me, explained to me it gets worse. I am defeated after the first week. From lost luggage to sickness (yeah I have the flu), to meeting some of the most amazing people I’ve ever met in my life, to seeing things you would be criminally insane to not have tears leave your eyes………….gotta go critique……………… to be continued

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So where did I leave off? Oh yes so on Friday night the bed and I had intimate relations and I was stuck on pills to help me get past this fever I acquired after my first week in the city of kings. I gave a lecture prior to this to the artists who occupy the city. It was real. It’s fascinating to see how much the artists here are like those I met in grad school. There is true brother and sisterhood among them. They hang out together on weekends, they support each other, console each other in times of need, and are invested in each others personal lives in terms of helping family. Saturday I took a trip back to the airport where again I was not able to pick up my luggage because of technicalities that were not sorted out before I arrived. At his point I’m convinced I will never see my artwork ever again. No worries shit happens right? After a morning of disappointment Clifford, my guide, and I find ourselves having tea at the Gallery where we run into the Gallery director Voti Thebe. We make a couple of phone calls and I end up speaking to the first American I’ve spoken to since arriving. I must say hearing an American voice was something to behold. Somehow subconsciously I do miss America and have made it a point not to acknowledge it. She assured me I would have my work by Wednesday………….we’ll see I thought. While at the Gallery Clifford and I had a conversation about marriage, and relationships. He broke it down for me in a way that made me realize that he and I were the same people in different parts of the world. I think fate brought him and I together. Not only do we think alike, but we act a like in so many ways it’s eerie at times. Some of the bombs he dropped about his own marriage and African traditions and customs in marriage made so much sense and really struck accord with the issues I’ve had in past relationships. The conversations lasted 6 exciting hours and I will spare the blog readers the details and sum it up in these words: in the African way of thinking marriage is two things and two things only; trust and sex. Without those two you will not have a happy marriage. He explained to me how in his marriage they go days without eating yet his wife trusts in her decision to choose him as a partner even though there are other men out there who would gladly support her and take care of her and are more attractive than he is. He says the worst feeling in the world is having a wife and child you can’t provide for, but the best thing is when she looks at you and says it’s ok and still sex’s your brains out like you just got married. It was touching the way he described his marriage. Today was suppose to be a a work day, but since we were not able to retrieve my work we decided to go out dancing……………moment of silence as I prepare to explain the madness that went down…………………one more moment…………….ok just two more seconds……………….Ok I’m ready. Clifford took me back to the lodge and we agreed on an hour to get ready. I changed my shirt and went downstairs for some chips (French fries-I know the English in me), and met a well seasoned med school student from Singapore. I forget her name at the moment because the chips were too serious and the seasoning on them sent me places. Future wife please take notice and understand herbs and spices can make fried potatoes a beautiful experience. Clifford came right on time and made stops to all of the clubs before making a decisions. They ranged from American music playing clubs strangely to African music playing clubs…………..Moment of silence again while I prepare to explain the amazingness that is the African club scene……………..I am from Miam, Fl home of the best dances and a culture that is dripped in dancing and vibin on a whole other level, but Africa is the matrix if Florida is the real world. The people here KNOW HOW TO GT DOWN! My jaw dropped at how FUCKING FUN it was to be in the African music playing clubs. The music was a mix of rave and drum music but very much unlike the states. Women are dancing and men, but there’s a catch. Men aren’t standing around looking at chicks at all. They are doing most of the dancing and in groups or solo. On tables just raving and drinking wine coolers which seems to be the drink of choice here. No hard stuff. Unlike America it isn’t bad to be a male dancing by yourself or with a guy friend next to you. It was pure unadulterated dancing and what they refer to rhythm dancing where you just let the music move your body and not think. It was like a trance almost. At first I felt self conscious thinking people were watching, but they encouraged me to move. Clifford pulled me aside and said “just let the music move you”. Before I knew it I was dancing my ass off, and got some love from the local ladies. They called me “Hollywood” because of the way I walked apparently and talked. In Florida guys actually dance and up north they just stand like around like flaccid penis’s waiting to be stimulated. My native Miamians I have to speak the truth and that is we have nothing on Zimbabwe when it comes to vibin and getting live as they say. We left around 4am and I slept like a baby. This was a good night.


Sunday August 8, 2010

Today Clifford and I drove to the Matopos National Park. We set out early and after two nervous check points we arrive at Matopos national park. Driving through the mountains and pure wilderness was therapeutic. Somehow I feel this trip was a gift from god for me to put my life in perspective. Everything I’ve seen and experienced has changed everything for me. Just listening to nature without cars or planes or people is so tantric it’s not even funny. We made a stop at one point and Clifford asked me if I had had ever gone hiking before I looked up at what seemed to be the equivalent of 7 stories and kindly said “nah bruh”. He told he wanted to show me cave paintings and I was down of course. He hiked for about 20 minutes or so climbing rock and avoiding tall 7 foot shrubs and finally made it to the top. The scene from the tall rocks caused by erosion was unbelievable. It was explained to me that people lived on top of the mountains to have an advantage of knowing where the enemy or wanderers were coming from. We turned and saw paintings on the rocks that were inscribed some thousands of years ago. The accuracy to which they represented animals and people is something to be seen in person and not in books or pictures. Stories were etched along the rocks for people to know of the way of life explained Clifford. It was a moment of disbelief. There were people who lived on rocks thousands of years ago……and they were in Africa. We headed down, avoiding the flying squirrels that were jumping from tree to tree, and finally made it back to the car where we enjoyed more park driving. Along one of the damns in the park were parked suvs, and people camping. My time in Zimbabwe has been like this…………..for every good I see there is something equally disturbing to accompany it. I see children playing and people socializing in the city, but they are poor, hungry, and use rotten dirty cast off American dollars to buy food that wouldn’t last a day in a typical American home for a weeks worth of shopping. The artists are like a family and love art, but they are also hungry and literally live and die on money they make from selling art. The club scene is happening but the reality of HIV is blatantly present when the first question someone is asked is are you infected instead of “hey wanna dance? What’s your name?” The people don’t mind walking, but that’s because they can not afford transportation or can’t fit in the trunks of those who can afford it. The kids are happy, but are cautious to stay healthy because there is no such thing as a drug store in Bulawayo to buy simple medicine like Tylenol. And here were are at a national park that is sacred land to the indigenous people of the land and who is barbequing on the holiday weekend of the heroes who fought for this land? White Europeans! It baffles me how I have yet to come across one middle class or lower classes no Black person in Zimbabwe. In some ways I understand America where the majorities are white and they rule, but this land is the complete opposite. The minority rule with money! It bothers me that I am in Africa and I see the native people of the land suffering and treating the visiting minority, that is responsible for much of their suffering, having a GREAT time on the majority’s national holiday. I have begun to incubate a hatred for those who refuse to acknowledge the residual effects of colonialism and slavery upon blacks. It seems that no matter where I go in life I see the same shit…..White people having a great time while the black people work their asses off. And I mean hey it wouldn’t be so bad if the whites didn’t treat the blacks like they are inferior. The people saw Clifford and I driving through and quickly called out to their son who was more than 20 feet away to come back to the camp site. They quickly locked their car doors. What the fuck? They smile and start laughing when we drive by. Later that night because there is a family of white guests staying at the lodge, I am fed dinner in the kitchen while they eat in the dining room I had become accustomed to eating in. Suddenly reality hit me…….I am black and my American accent doesn’t mean shit when a family arrives because I am subjected to the same treatment, even as a paying customer, as most blacks in the world; hidden from the “superior whites”. My soul burned with evil intentions as I watched them cook in the evening. I later watched tv in the pool room at the lodge and started flipping channels. I watched music videos in the row that seemed to come at the nick of time to help me get through my day. Seriously it freaked me out. On Vh1 I watched these videos in a row: TLC-unpretty, private dancer by Tina Turner, Desiree “Gotta be”, and that lady whose music they use for ipod videos. I then watched an interesting story about the war in Georgia in the Europe. I saw stories on Korea, China and Pakistan as well. My perspective changed big time after watching those two segments. The poor suffer, and I was born poor. It’s the only life I’ve ever known living from dollar to dollar. My hair is grey at 26 as a testament. I will become a household name one day and when I do I will never forget the poor and suffering. Ever. I hope the people who read this blog understand I am typing without correction and these are thoughts as I experience this opportunity that was handed to me. I love all people. I love life. I love those who I strongly disagree with even if they are killers and exploiters. I just needed to vent.



Monday August 9, 2010

Today I woke up for breakfast at 7:30 am, and got prepared like I usually do. I ate rather plentiful bacon and toast breakfast and then took to the sun for a warm hello…….or so I thought. I sat outside in the yard from 7:30am to 5:00pm. How do you ask? There is something to be said for peace and tranquility, and boy did I get it. I have never in my entire 26 year life been so at peace with the world. Al I could do was think and plan out my life going forward from the laconic grass. The birds, butterflies, and frequent lizards seem to occupy the space as well, but we were hardly interrupting each others peace. That’s right I said lizards! Anyone who knows me knows of my dreadful fear for anything scaly with legs minus crocodiles and alligators, and man this place is crawling with them. The cool thing is they are so beautiful even if scary to the tongue. Reds, blues, yellows, and so on and so on. There are two in particular I love watching. They are very intelligent creatures to say the least. One watches out for the other and they function as one unit. If one runs along the other follows. Yesterday the smaller of the two got locked outside by the gardener and sure enough the next morning as I was eating breakfast the bigger lizard ran out in the same direction to catch up. While I sat outside I saw both of them along the roof of the lodge basking in sun together. So many things ran through my mind during my 9 hour mental session. I’m worried of my return to the states. Last night I tried watching cable tv, and felt sick to my stomach. I thought about college football season coming up and my heart sank thinking of all the wasted beer, food and money that will consumed while people are here starving. I thought about my trip to the Matopos Mountains and seeing the cave paintings that were made thousands of years ago. It was magical in a non corny kind of way. The sun started to come down and I retreated into my room. After a tell nap I went down for dinner. The women in Zimbabwe know a thing or two about presentation. I took a picture of my food before I took to it like a starving lion. Afterwards I heard children! My spider senses went off and I gravitated to the sound of innocence. I met the grandchildren of one of the housemaids Grace. She cooks most of my food and her name explains her well. She takes great care of me, and I have made it a point to get to know her. The days of working at the Marriott helped me understand that cleaning up after people is the most thankless job in the world, and people expect you to take crap because it’s part of the job. I met her grand children Christolph and Cynthia. Both are in the 1st grade and were on vacation. Their hair were barely groomed, and clothes were typical of most children I’ve encountered in Bulawayo: non matching, barely fitting hand me downs. They were pleasant and shyly smiled incessantly at me when I spoke. It took a little comical bribing to get them to open up, but I managed to have a conversation with them. Christolph wants to be a pilot when he grows up and Cynthia wants to be a teacher. I held back tears listening to them speak. Since they are grandchildren of the maids they weren’t allowed in the main house. They sat in the kitchen. Yep typical colonial/slave children shit going on. Inquisitive people you look it up and find out what I’m talking about. I got up and ran to my room and met them downstairs with my laptop. I began to show them jpegs of my paintings and digital drawings. Their eyes lit up. Even Grace sat down in amazement. They reached out and got me a chair to sit, but I refused. The kids both sat on Grace’s lap as I gave them a slide show of my work. They began saying “yes” and “no” to the pictures they liked and didn’t like. It was cute hearing the yes’s and no’s I have to admit. After our moment the other people staying at the lodge came back from dinner and it was time to call it a day. I felt good about myself for a change, and happy for them. It was a good day.