Jambile: The Silence

As the water retreats deeper into the Kalahari sands
the Teaks draw back their sap in a last flush of gold
settling in for the long wait till the next rains

The beginning of the dry season

In a last bustle of activity
ants and termites on the pan edges
collect the remains of dry grass stalks and seeds
from now on, the only nourishment  will be the occasional elephant droppings
but the pans have dried out and there is nothing to call them back

Silence

Even the hornbills are still
and a soft underbelly of sound
as Teak leaves fall to the sand

Suddenly a bustle and flurry and excited cackle
as the guinea fowl arrive
scratching and scraping and scattering the droppings
in enthusiastic appreciation at the delicacies on offer
then scurry off in a wavering line
to their roost for the night

Silence as the sun sets
The universe hangs low over our heads

As we watch through the mosquito netting of our tents
we become part of the stars

Scorpio rising
as Orion safely slips over the eastern horizon with Sirius at his heels
safe from his sting for yet another night

A lion roars in the far distance
and an Elephant trumpets from the pan

Three days of almost-silence

Mandavu Dam: Diversity

We drive through the changing patterns of the park
deep sands of ancient dunes marked by increasing height of trees
where teak changes to Mopane
and Kalahari sands change to mudstones
and the Acacia and Terminalia grow by the pans
and Jesse bush crowns the hard compact soils of the ‘inbetweens’

The dam is filled with water
a place where millions of lives overlap in a dance around this abundance
hundreds of elephant and buffalo,
buck, zebra, giraffe
crocs slide through the silky surface of still waters
bask on the banks,
hippo call all day and night
birds pick crumbs at your feet
butterflies abound in the last flowering Capperacae
and a colony of Dassies in the rocks below
shuffle around for a place in the sun

From the monastery to New York!
So much life!

At night is a continual rustle and scurry of camp creatures
and an alarming cracking and breaking as two elephant eat the bushes by Mel’s tent

In the morning we wake to the discovery that our tents are covered
in small yellow stink bugs
who stay with us for the rest of the journey

Sinamatella: The Edge

We sit on the edge of the cliffs looking south
hundreds of miles of wilderness to the Botswana pans

Behind us, the luxury of a national parks cottage
a hot bath
electricity

This is an old, well-known haunt
we haven’t visited for 8 years

The restaurant is now ragged
elephants and baboons pulling at the thatch
lodges are empty of visitors

We walk to the eastern end to visit our old friends,
the Commiphora trees
strange green trunks weaving out of the barren rocks on the edge of the world

but they are gone
trashed, slashed, smashed to the grounds
elephants?
but a ranger explains that they did it
for the tourists
‘For them to enjoy the view’

What destruction we bring for the most trifling of reasons

Outside the gate to the north lurks another monster
the extending arms of the Coal mine move closer to the park
as Zimbabwe forges ahead in providing energy for the nation

Elephant prints mingle in the coal dust and tracks of huge trucks
their ancient pathways disrupted by our growing destruction

Nature is held to ransom at the hands of man

Matopas: The Magic

Ancient granite mountains leaning into the skies around us

This is where Zimbabweans of all tribes have come for hundreds of years
to speak with the spirits
asking for advice and guidance

In the stillness there seems to be a question

‘how do we bring peace to our nation?’
‘behave as humans in respectful relationship with all things’

Scorpio rises again as Orion slips down to meet the horizon

old patterns
of ancient cycles
into new spirals

The stillness, the diversity, the edge and the magic

My SMS to Paul – the Zimbabwe Electricity Supply Authority (ZESA) technician who is our contact for Monavale repairs and who was working yesterday on the smoking electricity poles with his team:
‘Hello Paul.  I am afraid the Elec. pole on Onslow Lane (path down to Monavale Vlei) was smoking again just now.  elec is still on. Thank you.’

His to me:
‘Relax madam, we knw why its still behaving that violently, we had no permanent spares ystrday so u’re on a temp supply back feed until we get thoz spares, u’re safe jst ignore it will clear.’

Me:
‘Thank you so much Paul. we are relaxed. Happy Easter.’

PS … For any of you who wonder what Monavale Vlei is about  – look at www.monavalevlei.com

Wake at first light with much scratching and scrabbling in the ceiling above our bed
(there has been a lot of ceiling and roof bouncing activity in the last few days)
is it rats – or is it?
is it … the bushbabies coming home?
(they moved out of Mel’s ceiling some weeks ago as it has become a nesting site for the wood hoopoes)
waking with a feeling of hopeful gratitude

AND

There is ZESA! (Zimbabwe Electricity Supply Authority)
–it has been in even more limited supply lately
bills to Mozambique not paid/ bills of officials not paid/whatever
I scurry outside to the washing machine
(so placed to access 3 different water supplies)
but all will be well
there is ZESA – and that runs the community borehole
(the Municipality water is still leaking into the vlei – we haven’t had that for months)

but no

for some other reason the borehole pump is not working
(water supply 1 and 2 not available!)

I scurry through the morning  ferns to switch on the Green Tank
(our backup supply – access 3)
all is well

Boil pot of tea with a great plan
the satellite supplying our daily dose of BBC delivered through the battery radio
seems to have dropped out of the sky in the last few days
but …
this morning there is ZESA – which means that the internet will be working
grab my laptop
fumble around in growing light to set up the World Radio news
aah – the familiar well-modulated, dulcet tones of BBC filter through the bedroom
with all the latest disasters, killings, outrage
pour cups of tea and settle into bed

but no
it is streaming and buffering and b****ing around and we catch an occasional word or two

ahh well, think about today

- have to pick up a tire being repaired at the garage (pot-hole puncture)
- Tony’s car dropped a something from the steering into something else in the engine
that also needs repairing
- then there is the invitation from yet another funder to apply for funding for they are very interested in what we do
just fill in the form and read the online 360 page – or alternatively a more detailed 1000 page – explanation
juggling
will this be another exercise in futility?
to get a one liner 3 weeks late inviting you to apply again next time as you didn’t make it this time

check the washing machine
the water pressure is so low it didn’t even wash the soap into bowl
its rinsed anyway

The light in the kitchen dims and wavers
perhaps the ZESA supply is so low that it merely switches things on
just doesn’t get them to work?

Its 9.30am
cloudy day
cold wind
at the traffic light my friend the newspaper vendor rushes to the car window
eyes on stalks
‘look at the headlines Gogo’ he instructs
President and Prime Minister agree to elections in June
the ugly specter of renewed violence floats in a dark cloud above our heads

April 3rd 2012
riding the waves

Once again, the sun has moved north across the equator
painting rainbows on the thatch through the crystal in the A-frame

it is the coming of winter,
the nights begin to carry the first memories of the cold dry season
but still it rains

2012 …

the wobble in our planetary axis
returns us to the same place we visited a 26 thousand year ago
the completion of some galactic cycle

and our solar system sails through the equator of our galaxy
in the slow timeless turning of the universe.

leaving us
to give meaning to the movement
doom or salvation?
or just the speeding up of everything that we know?

- because movement there is!

the global mind connects across the planet
through twitter and blog and skype

What is it we are thinking?
what are we seeing as the potential of this extraordinary experiment?
as we increase in our numbers and expectations
and economic planning
-  busy borrowing from the future

have we lost connection to the place we began
the home which has supported our lives?

travelling blind into this new turn of the cycle
as if severed from the fire of our being

but cracks appear in the edifices of our belief systems
and the knowing-unthinking darkness born of our killing and greed

threads of survival?
a sense of holding?
a creative connection emerging alongside this chaotic crumbling?

New life continues to be born this morning
as if into an emerald
glowing with the luster of yesterday’s rain
flowers like fractals of rainbows
sung into being

After the body work: tai chi, 4 directions, dance? What do we call it? We went on our own to sit under a tree. When we came together in the A-frame the combined picture that was drawn was so beautiful that I wanted to share it with you all. Minutes of the meeting so to speak, just to let you know where we are.

We sat under Masasas and Figs and Mukwa and trees with no name
we saw their wounding; nails in the bark, swellings from insects eating their trunks from the inside
we saw their dying: The Mukwa (Nyamaropa)
the tree that stood proudly on the hill 32 years ago
the medicine tree that was visited by nyangas – who stripped off squares of her bark
now old and tired – surrounded by strong new trees competing for light and space
and the grace of her slow fading – the first dead branches filled with life of another kind.

We saw how they accommodated to spaces in the canopy
a dance of cooperative creative patterning
We saw them with gratitude
with hearts wide open
these magical cycling systems
moving water and air and light.

We felt their prickly rough bark
surprised at its soothing gentle touch.
We saw the immense height of the towering gum
roots firmly, widely rooted in foreign soil
at home in this forest of African trees

We saw our child hood:
the trees we had climbed, the fruit we had eaten
the books we will write for the new children
the woodlands we will grow for them to play

And there was a strange reaffirming of an ancient knowing
we were connected, if just for a short time,
to the healers of the earth.

Sheltered beneath cool thatch
surrounded by green lawns and fig trees

a circle of Zimbabwean women sit passing a stone
sewing beads onto a red velvet cloth as each one spoke

women’s work

they cross three generations
mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, grandmothers
facilitators, lawyers, counselors, activists

What is it, we asked, that we celebrate about being women?
‘Our ability to love,
to take responsibility for our children, our families
to take responsibility for the food, and the schooling
our ability to hold serious jobs
to talk about our feelings
to share the load’

And what is difficult about being  women here, at this time?

‘Being disrespected
often abused,
by the men with whom we live
sexual harassment
political rape and violence’

It was a story of attrition and overwhelming responsibility

One of the elders spoke
of the infidelities of her husband
of the pain it had cause her young soul
as she watched over her small children

and of the growing strength of realization
that she was the one

she would not seek what was impossible
she would take the responsibility
and do the work
and love her children
because she had the courage and strength to do it

of the power and satisfaction her life had brought her
of the wonderful children she had grown into the world
of the circles of women she shared her life with

They spoke of strong, enduring, loving mothers
of the father who had supported one young woman’s journey
allowed her the freedom to make her own choices
of her gratitude for this trust in her abilities

They spoke of the ‘enemy within’
their own jealousies
of women’s part in infidelities
the insecurity they carried

And then they looked at what they could change
and of holding circles with men

It is the first conversation of many, many conversations

everything changes