Art by Gareth Nyandoro – From the Open Studio event held in Athlone recently. Contact theeckximstudios [at] gmail [dot] com for more information.

A little while ago we had the real pleasure of dropping in on the Open Studio Art Event in Athlone which featured artists like  Misheck Masamvu, Gareth Nyandoro, Aubrey Bango, Masimba Hwati, Tafadzwa Gwetai and others. There was such a good vibe with artists working in situ, as well as great entertainment and of course … The Art was amazing. Let’s hope there will be more of these creative artistic gatherings in Harare.

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

Last year I started The Teabag Project. It didn’t really take off … but the idea was to stave off Facebook in that I wanted to use the postal system to communicate with a few people. So I sent off a letter + a teabag and asked folks to brew a pot and then write something; anything. Many months later I received this wonderful reflection on the fabulous Dr Monica Glenshaw.

Thanks Rosemary…

Just over a year ago Monica touched down on Australian soil for a holiday. I always love it when she is here. It is a very happy time. Of course I had plans. We ferried over to Rottnest Island where I had rented a cottage overlooking the Indian Ocean, back to the Perth skyline. Rottnest is an island without cars, so one walks, or cycles, or catches the one bus that makes hourly trips around the island. We hired bikes, with Monica selecting one without gears.  I thought it would make the hills much more difficult but, of course, Monica defied that notion, rising from her seat on the inclines to give extra strength and pump to her legs as required. I tried to pace our daily riding so as not to tire her, but she seemed to grow stronger and more accomplished on the bike with each day. We saw birds and dolphins and sparkling coves and white beaches.  We had picnics along the way and always had a cider stored in a bag for a lunchtime refreshment. One evening we rented a DVD from the local store – Miss Potter – which delighted Monica. She craved films and, indeed, input that might remove her to another world other than her own for a time. I got her to sit through 2 hours of my favourite show, Big Love, about polygamous mormons in Utah.  Viewed on the island, with Monica as witness, the series left me feeling morose and I wondered how I had become so enamoured with it.

On the day we were to leave we sat on a wooden bench again looking out across the ocean to the city. We were eating hard-boiled eggs, Monica’s with ample salt, and bread that we had bought from home. I looked across at her and saw gentle tears.  I moved closer but don’t recall saying anything to her. Was it out of respect for her privacy, or my own fear of what she might be thinking? I don’t remember anymore, but I still see the scene these days. I thought she looked and seemed so well during those days in Australia.  It never ever crossed my mind that I may not see her again. Did she fear it? Did she somehow know? Did she cry for her lost health?

And now she has been dead for 7 months. So many questions I have for her. So many conversations I would like to pursue. But – this is life now.  It doesn’t always go the way we would like it to. It can be entirely out of our control. And I am forced, again, to learn patience, acceptance, to move graciously forward with the inevitable flow of life.

I am grateful for what has been.

There is no other choice available.

I placed the sticker at a footbridge. The bridge is badly damaged and broken and needs quick attention. It was built in 1987 and since then no repairs have been done. Now it is dangerous for the people, eg school children, the old, the deaf and drunkards.
- Andreki, a Kubatana member and participant in our FIX THIS.please campaign