Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Scars

I love scars and the tales they tell. 

On a side note - I am also neurotically catious about making such a statement in case the gods say "oh she likes scars, lets give her one to remember - third degree burns on most of her face, perhaps?" It irritates me, gets in the way of a good story. Anyhow, throwing said caution to the wind. 

I love scars and the tales they tell.

As a kid I had a friend - well if I'm honest he was more of a slave really. I called him Wheelbarrow. See? I'm sure he actually had a name, but I didn't know it. I would climb into the cement crusted wheelbarrow like a princess royal, wave my grubby hand at Wheelbarrow and say "Wheelbarrow, lets go" And he, the poor fellow, would push me around for hours. And hours. It's a mystery really why he did it. Usually I'd sit in the wheelbarrow, but one day I chose to sit on the prow, if you will, and put my feet on that metal thingy that goes around the wheel. And on the wheel was a sharp metal tab that cut a perfect slice into my heel. To this day I have a pretty silver scar on my left heel. 

Moving up. Right calf. An extremely innocuous fall off a motorbike left me with an 8 inch long 3 inch wide burn on my leg - the shape of a good sized fish. The burn was pink and raw to begin with, then looked like a big Texan portion piece of steak glued to my calf. Slowly it faded away until all you can see now, if you look really closely, is a faint pattern of silvery lines. 

Then there are the other motorbike scars, etched about my body from a less innocuous fall. One of those falls that when you finally get your bearings back and dust yourself off you wonder how on earth you have bruises and grazes in so many different places. It must have been quite the tumble. Shortly thereafter my mother took some pictures of me for an art work she was doing, naked in an old crumbled overgrown building at the bottom of the garden. Covered in scabs. 

I had a biblical infestation of boils as a child. They were numerous and pustulous and just plain gross. At one time I had fifty something boils on my legs alone. Sis hey? The scars are mostly gone save for a neat little round scar on my left knee, that looks like a perfectly formed 22 bullet hole - complete with exit wound on the other side. 

Then on my right outer thigh is a little silver inch worm of a scar. James Schulz had a pet warthog who was mostly very friendly but would occasionally attack at random. When I was about 9 I used to go for French lesson's at James Shultz's house (he also had a baby monkey that thought it was a cat) and one day the warthog went for his son, who must have been about 5 at the time. I managed to rush in and grab the son, Daniel, before the warthog got him. And she tusked me instead, the bitch. I pretended to be very brave and said it didn't hurt at all, but it bloody did!  

I have a couple on my wrist, one from an air conditioning unit, and another from some scaffolding that was the set of a play I was in. Another on my head from an old school basketball injury. Heads bleed, huh?

Aaaaanyway, that's enough for now. 

Now your turn. What are your most interesting scars? 

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It's pretty much all tree these days isn't it?

Friday, September 24, 2010

Just stuff

I’ve been all kinds of grumpy this week. The baby gal has discovered that she has a temper. Of epic proportions! She wakes up at about ten to five in the morning and then gets Seriously Pissed Off that she can’t get back to sleep again. And lets us aaaaallll know about it. It’s a whole new kind of torture. This morning, for instance, she woke up at four thirty, yelled for two hours and then fell asleep, juuust as it was time for me to get up and get ready for work. Nevertheless. We love her still.

Here she is ignoring the neighbour's calf that comes in and eats my herbs. 




And here, humouring her mother.



This morning (despite the early start) I woke up and everything was shiny and shimmery again. The mountain (who has been rather shy of late) has thrown off her cloak and is stupendous. I suddenly noticed that the jacarandas are flowering. Have they been doing this for long? Have I been so self absorbed so as not to notice? Or have they only just started?

 

Rehearsals are going great (we’re almost done – eek) and I just love the motorbike ride from home to where we’re rehearsing.

 

 

 

 

 

This is where we have lunch. 

It's called the Olasit Holiday Inn

The kitchen, through the door

A cow drinking just outside. But you can see that, can't you?

And why has the writing gone blue?

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

...

Oooooh oooh look, a free moment to blog! 


You know that iconic picture of Einstein with the big white sticky up hair? Looking slightly crazed and bewildered? I feel a bit like that at the moment. 


Except not as clever.


Oh pants. The baby has just woken up and that free moment I had? Poof! Gone. Ah well, I may as well post this anyway just to prove that I'm still alive, albeit with little to say. Or at least little time to say it in.  


Let me at least take a picture through the window.....



Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Costume shopping and mzungu prices

Today we went to Mitumba, the second hand clothes market, to buy costumes for our play. I have waxed lyrical about Mitumba many a time so shan't do so again. Save to say that I LOVE it. You can find all manner of marvelous things there. From Diesel jeans to skanky choopies (underwear) to silver cowboy boots. Its fab. ANyway I managed to not get distracted by these delights (not the choopies) and get all the stuff we needed for the play. We also went to the market to get materials for making props and I had to hide each time, wait for the actors to go and get the proper price and then appear to pay. "You need to hide with your white skin!"

Conducted an experiment. I said to one of the actresses. 
"How much would you buy these shoes for?" 
"6,000 shillings"
"How much do you think they'd charge me? 25,000 shillings?"
"Yes, about that"
So she went and asked. 6,000 shillings. I went and asked 25,000 shillings.

Feh. 

Forgive the brevity of my posts. I am ti-i-red! But really want to write more. So....

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Sunday, September 5, 2010

Work. Play.

I've started work again. 

Every day I ride the back way on my motorbike, along scraggly goat paths, getting dust on my takkies and snatched at by thorns. Under the wide blue sky, watched by the mountains. And I stand up most of the way and want to woop with joy. 


Hope it lasts!


We're rehearsing on a quiet plot under a big ol fever tree. Making  play. And props. And stuff. 
Its damn hard leaving the baby gal every morning but I guess I have to do it some time. And she cries a bit when I go but I think its mostly for show because she soon gets distracted by the cat and tries to sit on him. He doesn't seem to mind. 


Aaanyway. Off to bed.


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Outside looking in