There were 81 of them
representing over 152 thousand children and adolescents in Zimbabwe
living with HIV
more than a third of them are orphans

They had been brought together to commemorate World AIDS Day
and asked what they wanted to tell the world about their lives

Along the walls are full size body portraits they have drawn of themselves
symbols of their hopes for the future

They were given cameras take photos-fractals of their lives
beautiful cameos which speak of being the same as everyone else
of the need for love and acceptance and education
and for a future with the audacity to hope

Central to the display
they dance with huge, exuberant joy
around a tree they have made and covered with hundreds of flowers
created out of Antiretroviral bottles

Their ‘Tree of Life’

for these new children would not be here today
without access to ARVs

children who have held hands in their own circle
who have been seen and heard in their dignity
who are learning they have a right to a future
and a love of life
and who closed the evening singing
‘Something Inside so Strong’

What is this energy out there?
Alongside all this oppression and aggression?
This strange voluntary friendliness that helps us greet each other?
What is it makes the driver of the army truck alongside beam and wave?
And the newspaper vendor smile whilst he tells me that there is still no good news?

I started laying the spiral in the clean white sand in the early morning
Flat, damp, rust-coloured, woody  pods
from the Miombo woodland floor
‘Mmmm, so Munondo pods are flat and Musasa pods curl’
(deduction)
When I returned at mid morning, something had happened that I had never understood before
(after many, many  years of thinking I was watching)
the pods had all curled back to their well-know, spiral-shape in the drying sun
(of course)

Sonia didn’t sleep that night
at 5 the next morning she went out in the first slanting rays of dawn
to lay the spiral
collecting flat, damp, rust-coloured, woody pods
from the newly wet Miombo woodland floor

someone else came by later
and laid a circle of small Munondo seeds in the centre
Future Trees of Life

Jane passed by at mid morning
and paused in astonishment
there, in the centre of the circle of seeds
in the centre of the spiral of pods
was a small chongololo
curled in a perfect spiral.
She calls us all to come and look,
and as we arrive,
another chongololo trundles up

‘is he attacking her?’ Jane asks worriedly
‘no – they are mating’

at least they think there is a future to take care of!

‘the pods have curled’ noted Sonia

later that day we sit around the spiral
12 ordinary people
and speak of our vision for the future

Qalani walks to the centre
and he lays Nyamaropa seeds
around the Munondo seeds
marking the agreements that hold us together

‘this is the yolk’ he says pointing to the middle
‘the yellow stuff at the centre of an egg
It is held in place by the agreements
respect, love, truth speaking, deep listening…
the albumen which feeds the yolk
and around it is the shell
us
guardians, protecting the birthing of this new life

but one day soon
this egg will hatch
for it is time for the bird to fly’

silently, we walk the spiral
placing our vision in the  centre

12 ordinary people
who have the audacity to hope

In late November, the Tree of Life (the healing and empowerment ones!) met for two and a half days to look back on the last year.

It has been a challenge – both with resources, and with difficulties on the ground – but we have done it!

Amazing, courageous work with expanding circles touching and healing peoples’ lives.

It was time to look at ourselves:
What impact has this had on us?
where have we lost our own power?
lost our courage?
felt the stress of responsibility?
where we were up to, and where we were going?

for we have come to a new reality
when there is no one left to blame
no one in charge who we can rely on to look after our rights
and we are drawn by invisible threads into the same circle
nurturing this seed of healing, at the centre, into being

there is a point when we can choose to change and grow
when we move from hierarchy and patriarchy and matriarchy and the fear of authority
and the passive, disempowering comfort of being looked after

and we stand at the edge of the circle
learning to be our true selves.

there is talk of the great turning
of holonic shift
when the force of our intention moves from one that is against something
to a new sense of working together
when we have nothing to trust but a communal truth
and the agreements at the centre of the circle
binding us together
to birth a new vision

there is a point when we choose to change and grow
rather than stay and nurture the old ways that no longer serve

for connected into the circle of our common intention
we each have a path to follow
different responsibilities to carry
different dreams to dream

The language of fear once again echoes through our lives
new elections

the shadow of violence creates
once again,
separation in our midst
intimidation
young boys with large guns training on the streets
the threat is wherever we give it room to shake our trust

I sit on the rim of many circles
and watch in awe
as the edges connect

On a random morning in a Harare tea garden:
1 table of people talking about communication and the big picture
2 tables of healers talking about healing and coordination
1  table talking about healing and community self-help
1 table talking to the world (on email) about healing the environment

Circles of connection and action and focus
…………..born in the dark

And in different places, under different trees
communities edge beyond the fear
and talk about co operation and sharing of resources
talk about their young men and the damage we are doing to them
and of football games and peace

Small healing organizations talk about networking
small circles of widows,
and mothers of handicapped children
and AIDs carriers
and orphans
talk about healing and sharing what they have learned

Circles on an eastern mountain bring together traditional leaders and young thinkers
to talk about new ways of working together
calling on old traditions and new dreams
…………….born in the dark

I sit on the rim of many circles
circles that connect across communities and colour and culture and gender
circles that stretch across the country
across the planet
and I wonder:
Is there enough room for these webs of light to emerge
and bring something new into being?
has the long dry journey sucked and sapped our spirits?
do we have the resilience
and the trust
to walk this next part of our journey?

Transformation
The rains came this week and touched the long-dry earth with its magic
seeds of delicate grasses push tiny roots into newly wetted soil
and chongololos
lying in wait coiled in circular cells under dry earth
push their way to the surface
to greet the new-wet world
waiting above ground

The cell tower
Monavale community has taken the challenge of protecting its  biodiversity centre
from the invasive presence of a 50m cell tower being raised in its midst

The  story has many twists and turns
but an underlying message has there been from the start :
We are facing a bigger power than a group of concerned residents
Corporate business and the city council bent on ‘development’
pay no attention to our requests and petitions
-and building continued whilst the matter was in court

Our voice doesn’t count and we felt impotent in the face of the abuse of power around us

but then……….
a new twist
the judge ordered a temporary halt to the building
and brought the court to visit
our indigenous tree nursery
our bird sanctuary
our community clean-up and conservation and tree planting
and the cell tower outside our bedroom windows

once again we wait…..

. . . with thanks to Ginny and Kate

The earth has warmed – bare feet on warm soil
aaahhhhhh
the air is filled with the perfume of jasmine and syringa
and the canopy of new flushed Masasa
glows gold in the setting sun

People usually consider walking on water or thin air a miracle.
But I think the real miracle is…
to walk on the earth.
Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize:
a blue sky,
white clouds,
green leaves,
the black curious eyes of a child,
our own two eyes.
all is a miracle
-Tich Nhat Hanh

Ginny was the first to be owl-ed
sitting on her veranda in July
shelling peas
her hair lightly brushed
as if in a blessing
touched by talons
in silent flight

the Spotted Eagle Owl was an old friend by now
she first arrived in April
calling from the trees
silhouetted at dusk on the chimney

one night when Gin came home in May
she spent 24 hours in the kitchen
watching her cook
they set up a rapport
eye to eye

When Gin left again, and the owl moved across to Daniels’
speaking to him at night
perching over his door

Gin and Pete came home in June,
and she moved into the nest high up in the rafters, under the thatch on the veranda
appearing outside their bedroom window at early dawn
calling gently
with a mouse dangling from her beak
as if an offering

In the last month all the families came home
Andrew and Jess and Nathaniel from US, Rory, Rebecca and Kieran and Fiona and Tiggy from UK, Shan and James and Bev and John from Capetown

and us locals – Daniel, Kate, Gin, Pete, Mel, Tony and me

we have all been owl-ed
walking the paths between our houses at night

out of the silence of the trees
a gentle ruffling on our heads
and then she lands
on a branch ahead
and then watches us through owl-eyes

All is a miracle