White is a colour...

White is a colour. Anybody who says otherwise has never had the joy of sloshing about in the snow. My very first, as yet abstract experience was rather grim. Having landed in Frankfurt in the early hours of Friday 3 December, I was treated to the laments of frustrated passengers from around the world who had been eagerly waiting to get their flight to Berlin for Christmas. Many had been waiting for a flight for over 24 hours. The delayed flight schedule was the result of new blankets of snow covering the city.
Anxiety crept stealthily through the waiting lounge, reflected on the faces of travellers. I felt it too, as the ground staff announced further delays every ten minutes or so. Until finally, just over an hour had passed beyond what would have been our departure time, and the boarding gates opened.

Of course, it would be yet another 45 minutes before take-off, but then we were all set to our destination Berlin.

And a beautiful sight awaited us on arrival...

It didn't matter that we had just stepped into a city that allowed us a drop of some 30 degrees Celcius. A scorching Johannesburg had just bid us farewell at 22 degrees the evening before, and Berlin boasted an icy welcome at -8 degrees. Generous lather of bright white snow covered pathways, trees and buildings. A steady trickle of snow flakes continued to make its way to the ground. Delighted, I eagerly shoved my waterproof K-way gloves into the pockets of my down-padded jacket, slipped back my fur beanie and gathered handfuls of the soft ice.

There is a first time for everything, and this was my first encounter with snow.

S-N-O-W

A gush of wind whistled past my face, freezing a silly smile in place. Adrenalin was not to let this cold get the better of me. At this point, cold is just a word in the dictionary. Google it. Really. It is just a word! It means nothing compared to the precious experience that can transport a stuffy academic back to the days of childhood wonder and discovery.

And it renders beautiful a puzzled city of brilliant old architecture, remnants of pre-fab ugliness and gloomy grey skies. The snow adds colour. And Berlin comes alive! The streets are filled with grace, filled with smiling faces, filled with the festive glow of Christmas and the promise of newness.

White is a colour. A vibrant one at that!

Berlin sparkles because of it.

To Blog

Of course, just as it is with every motivated thing in life, there are reasons to blog. And there are reasons not to blog. And then there is just plain old non-reason. Not in a do-not-care kind of way, but rather in a just-not way.

Blogging is writing in a way that puts words out on a fluttering flag of sorts; a piece of fabric flaps in the wind, tied to a fickle post, without the guarantee that it will stay there, but in the meanwhile holding on for dear life. At some point it always tugs just beyond that sane disposition that we give it due. The force of pull and stay and the fight with wind and calm is an orchestra that brings both life and wear and tear to a simple piece of cloth, with strangely painted war art that gives it just a small token of belonging. Why? Because in symbols we find meaning and closeness. And a sense that this is home, in all its dreary plainness. And in all its wonder, too, of course.

I think that blogging is far more forgiving than the world of print media will ever be, and I think that short sentences are like drops of lemon on honey, made for flu-ish days. And I also think that grammatical errors are little rebellions from the artists creative pen. And of course, finally, long windy sentences are like taking a road trip and discovering oh-so-many wonderful things.

The scenic route is misunderstood. We should take more of them :)

Here's to loving being at home and here's to traveling to incredible new places and also to those long sentences that transport us between them. I missed them.

to the port city of friendliness

I'm off to Port Elizabeth tomorrow. Flight out at 6am. Yep. Means that I probably won't sleep much tonight. Or that I will sleep really early and then not after the morning Fajr prayers. I notice the difference; when my heads lead and I don't make it awake in time for the early morning prayers. My being feels like I missed out on a meal. A nourishment. Something significant. I didn't wake up today; I felt it. Rather, I am feeling it. All day today.

I hope this serves as adequate reason to not miss out again. And again. The flesh is weak sometimes, and turns into molten lead, writhing in bed to the demon's lullaby in my ear. Heaven's music might be sweeter, but its like that proverbial bowl of marshmallows when ur just a weak, infant soul. Dear God, make me grow up. Today.

And Protect me. Everyday.

And so, after what is probably a decade or more, I will travel out to the friendly city. And hope to see Grahamstown, too. When I completed by matric all those many years ago, I applied for my first choice of study, architecture, at PE university especially interested in the idea that the university is set at the seaside. I chose Wits in Johannesburg instead. But PE still beckons more than a decade later. I liek the idea that a place can be labelled the Friendly City. There's something feelgood about that. And I'm excited about the trip, even though I hear that it's already quite cold out there. And with the image of sun and sand in my head, I've already packed a bag of summer dresses and pretty tops with cargo pants, flip-flops and sunglasses. Oh and sun-screen too, of course.

And so, that's to be reviewed, but the excitement stays :)

time travel

a long time ago, my dad told us that once the travel bug bites, you're just as good as done for. we used to giggle profusely as children, when we heard him say that with a hint of sinister in his voice. i mean, what parent wants to have their children bit by something remotely unpredictable; or anything for that matter. of course, this is meant in most figurative sense (or so it seems). travel bug, like literary bug or movie bug that keeps you firmly glued to the latest string of blockbuster reads or motion pictures.

so the travel bug it was. first time out of SA for us kids was in 1984; our first umrah; a pilgrimage to saudi arabia along with a bunch of cousins and aunts and uncles and extended members of family that left only profound memories of the fancy ice creams and cherry cooldrinks that we gleefully got our fingers and tongues into. my sister celebrated her fifth birthday in Madina on News Years Eve. And so it turned that our most memorable holidays coincided from then on with her birthday. And other's were planned around the April date of my parents' wedding anniversary. Celebratory efforts also linked in nicely with an appreciation and setting aside of real family time. And tied in perfectly with well-timed travel arrangements. the first time we visited India was April 1994. Mauritius was April sometime some year. Singapore too. Malaysia another time. Egypt and Turkey midyear-ish, although my parents have experienced a winter in Istanbul. Europe, the US and Canada in June. Etcetera...

needless to say, we're a family of compulsive travellers. and of all the places both east, west and somewhere in between that we have ventured out to, India has by far held our fascination and love in myriad ways, explainable in simple wordedness. even for me, who prides myself on wordy recognitions (or deludes myself that way?).

cheeky worded illusions are my vocation of choice, so be it. moving on...

this latest trip was reminiscent of those other trips -last was India July 2008- with the family on a whirl wind tour of sights and delights; feel good moments and tonnes of stuff packed into a short time frame. just the way we like it. just the way that we thrive on, taking a full deck of adventure loving personalities in the same space. it makes the world tiny as a marble. and its the kind of travel that transcends the necessitated dimensions: time, space, being. it just is. and its awesome :)

here's to travel. in time. and in a rush against time. for all time!

here's to being a happy carrier of the travel bug, and to recognising in ourselves the fact that we are just travellers in this life, really. may the Almighty in His infinite wisdom always make our journeys and destinations havens of safety and learning for us; and may we never forget to extend our appreciation of the wonders of Creation as we engage in it and are a part of it.

thriving on chaos

Thats what my dad just said about an hour ago when we were trundling past exhaust fumes that looked more solid than the rickshaws we were in. This is a city that thrives on chaos. He said it with a mixture of elation and concern. More of the former, knowing him. And so it is, Mumbai, a city on speed unlike any other; but really a mixed metaphor for so many lives trying just to survive in whatever which way. A throng of humanity that craves like a hungry child and then swallows you whole in a way that belies that felt innocence. A city of so many hues, its almost blinding to the naive eye.


It's almost 1am... Exec lounge closes in a bit...
Lets do this ramble later, okay/?

Ciao for now

S

land of the taj

India beckons to me, once more. The land of the Taj; the sprawl of slums and the litter of children bleeding from these decrepit sites merging with a heap of bollywood spin-offs and likelies... India has already started that different throb in my veined connectivities. India beckons. And I must heed that call.

belief, trust and process

I am in need of one of those magic potions that will keep me astride the latest developments, and all pepped up with the vitamins of good and glorious. Okay, what I mean to say is that what with all the hype of my new writing project, I am in constant need to replenish the energies of enthusiasm and to find myself the inspiration I need to dive into it.

*Deep Breath*

The new project is about to begin. I got a call to set the ball rolling late last week. And so, I am about to take that nose-dive into the refreshing waters of an exciting research project that has already got me meeting some fascinating types. My world is about to merge with an underworld of veterans and newbies; spies of old, turned fruitsellers and ex-pats nostalgic for the dust of days gone by.

Of course, colliding with that novel that I have been pretending to write, means that the overlaps will prove to be an interesting challenge for me. And there's no rush to get anywhere, anytime as per diary and stop-watch. No guilt about words that won't happen. No anxiety about the project being compromised. I am just being one with the words and being pulled along by the current from which they flow.

I believe in process; I trust the ability for things set in motion to make their way along a vine of growth and contention and more growth.

So they will happen together; my rainbow of things, side by side. And together, they will merge on this canvas of newness.

PS: This post represents the inauguration of the new baby. I will do a separate post on it in a few days when I can get back to the blogs. Cheerio till then. S.

I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair...

- Sandi Thom Lyrics

Borrowed Time

I don't want to do this anymore... even though I love it so! I sit here, feeling like some kind of window washer on a glass skyscraper; washing away in this repetitive circular motion with the sunshine on my face, and looking in at the wonders of the snazzy executives in the boardroom with their faces painted; first a sombre grey and then layered in varying shades of pink to fake a blush and rosy lips.

My blush reflected in this larger than life mirror is of the elements ravaging my usually pristine features and of the gust of wind splaying fingers through my uncombed hair. My shades of pink are just those memories of a time before I learnt to write. You know, when I pretended that I was alive and played on in that theatre of life, a smiling collaborator to the puppeteers jesting ways.

My shades of grey are the shadows from that time. And the reminders that theatre is fiction; and real life, well... that's not for novels, dearie. Why, that's made for living! If you dare.

I remember his words now, when I told him to keep breathing. 'Everything else is a bonus,' he said. 'A bonus.'

This is borrowed time. I just remembered.

And I want to do that thing that I love doing. But I also don't. I really don't want to. Not tonight. Tonight, I just want to breath again.

Tomorrow I will go back to being the best window washer in the whole wide world. But not today. Today I want the grime to collect on their windows keeping the sun out for a day. Just a day. Then tomorrow, I will borrow time to be me again. Tomorrow I will do the work. Tomorrow, fingers will tap dance at keyboard. Tomorrow the windows will be clean again.

But only tomorrow.

Today I will rest.

After all, this is borrowed time.

I just remembered.

songs of time and travel

We're a bunch of Idols' fans... So we were watching the Indian Idols on television, and the song from the movie RACE played at some point. And my brother in law remembered Malawi. Yes, it was the Malawi soundtrack :P (We went off to Malawi in March for my brother's wedding).

Especially Pehli Nazar. We had a CD in every car after that. In my brother's car, in my car, in my brother in laws car, in my sister in laws brother's cars. You get the sense of it. Dad had a CD in the home entertainment thingie. It was all over the place. So much so that some of the songs still remind me of my ride to work along the M4, the look of the ocean (remember, I learned how to s-l-o-w down so I could enjoy the view) and navigating the twisty ride along Ridge Rd, of course. Come rain or shine, RACE was a permanent soundtrack for weeks after the Malawi trip. I had the best of the collection. Abdur Rahim made certain of it with the added remixes and whatever else he could find to download ;)

This year went by oh-so-quickly. (Well, come to think of it, so did 2007). Sometimes I feel dizzy just thinking about it. But the songs remain. We heard some other songs today. Songs that remind us of other travels. Like Cape Town. And India. And Egypt. And London. Lol. Oh yea... Kelly Clarkson, Roxette, Savage Garden, Natalie Imbruglia, Enya, UB40, U2!!! A maze of hindi soundtracks stretching the imagination from Yeh Shaam Mastani to Teri Deewani.

There are songs that remind us of childhood. And songs that remind us of school. And songs that remind us of bittersweet days of uni. Awkward moments and exhiliarating moments. Songs for rainy days and songs for scorching summer. Moments in freezing cappuccino drugged days, and moments of hearts gladdened by the quality of togetherness. Some songs played on the Hiveld graveyard shift, others in peak traffic. Oh there are those peak traffic songs for sure! Those save sanity at the bleakest moments. Or they perpetuate insanity enough to survive the chaos, especially when power failures threaten any remaining sense of humour.

Its so easy for something you can't live without to become second rate trash. This goes for songs and dresses :P

Good News and Bad News...

Good news is always welcome.

I believe that.

Especially since a lot of negative words get thrown about and rages flying from people you probably won't remember in two years time can cause unnecessary grief. And then there were those 'venom-spitting turds' who called themselves anon. Aaaarghhhh. I mean...who needs someone else's hot potato in their laps, right? Especially when things you say get twisted by ego's only ready for a jol.

What happens when their thirsts are quenched? Will they see the light, or will they continue to delude themselves for a lifetime? I guess everyone gets what they deserve, me included :) Alhamdulillah.

Ok.. First the bad news. I am in an excruciating amount of pain today. This all due to some painkillers wearing off and an hour of dental drilling into the recesses of my one measly tooth. It used to live quite peacefully at the back of my mouth until that dreaded day. A cavity. My dentist says its due to those braces I had when I was 13. Today's braces don't do that, she says. Right. Back then it was the coolest thing to sort out twisty teeth; accept for the fact that I couldn't chew gum or eat 'jawbreakers' (remember those hot spicey red ones??!!) or that I couldn't eat those lollypops with the gooey centre.

Back to the present; this all a load of drama to bring me to my proverbial knees. Actually, I am sitting on my knees as I type this! (I use one of these posture accurate typist chairs that has a rest for knees and butt. It's kinda funky. And it has wheels :P I love it. But Boi am I in pAiN!. Sigh.

So, to put away the bad news, I'm going to sleep. Writing is not happening today. Not like this, any way. Hmm... now for the good news...

I have just been appointed as a trustee (the youngest, I might add :P) on the corporate board of WIPHOLD. I know, its just a word. Or an acronym. I know. But it's a feather in my cap, whichever way. We are a total of five board trustees. The CEO of WIPHOLD, the CEO of WipCapital and the Chairperson (a Founder Member with great Merit in her field - legal and corporate). And then theres another two of us, newly appointed. This piece of news comes at a rather opportune time, seeing as I am at the threshold of many choices. It is a culmination of the many coats that I wear in the corporate and social sectors and I really hope to be able to make the most of it.

Read the Corporate Profile Mission Statement HERE.

The reasons that I have become hugely interested in this organisation is their immense social responsibility programmes in place. In some cases, companies like these are able to do more than the state. Read more about the extensive Social Development Commitment HERE.

I have a feeling that 2009 is going to be one heck of an exciting year!

on writing and being a writer

I am writing again. No, I mean, really. I ramble a lot, here at this blog, and pretend for the most part to be a writer. And I get away with it. Its a wonderful world. And its pretty amazing how impressionable people can be. Especially me. But in all honesty, I have neglected my apparent latent ability to pen real prose. And so, I have decided to go out on a limb and actually make this commitment to write! It feels good. It makes me feel in touch with myself. Again. I miss the ocean, its smell, its lure; but I am glad to be, once again, grounded in this city of immense energy. The beat of Africa's heartbeat is right here, at my doorstep. Laced with an arsen of crime, ebbed by a sensual flow of ingratiating traffic and filled to the brim with people from every corner of the continent and the world, this is Johannesburg. I find myself standing in the midst of it all, sometimes alone on the battlefield and at other times surrounded by a delightful sprawl of sunflowers.. The promise of a wave of words is at once ominous and exhilarating. And I am ready to be dive right in.

PS: In taking on this little adventure, I have officially given myself permission to write badly, just as long as I write, as I must! Will slice and dice when theres a full bag :)

PPS: This post is a note to self, a place I hope to be able to return to, when Im drowning and not able to see the wood from the trees at any point. And for any potential panic attacks. And. Yea. Whatever unforeseen. Sigh.

a word about Durban

I think that I am in love. With Durban. I mean, I know that I miss home and especially miss my loved ones.. and that there's tons of festivities going on what with my brother's wedding coming up at the end of the month; but of course, I have been well kept in the loop, consulted and briefed on goings on, and doing my bit on this side as best I can. The little girlie sillinesses and such sentiments tend to overtake the psyche now and then, at odd moments at around two a.m when I would much rather be having a midnight snack with my brother or ambling past my dad's study to delve in the delights of book territory; but then Durban is also turning out to be an all-embracing place of wonder and opportunity and feel-good energy. And to think that I havent been to the ocean much. Its the air. And the people, my students, my Durban family who graciously fill my daily coffers with smiles and love and blessings and all things sweet and nurturing. The driving language is still much cause of amusement, to say the least; and apprehension when you consider the close call I had yesterday, when traffic lights stopped working - yes, Durban folk dont have a CLUE about fourway crossing ettiquette! Not One. So I have angels watching over me. I was reminded yesterday. Sigh. But in a word, I Love Durban. The weather is awesome! Sunshine leaves a glowing pink on my cheeks at the start of everyday kisses, and the smell of the ocean during my evening walk/jogs fills me with a silent promise of soul enrichment. Rolling Ridge Road has seduced me, finally. Fuel consumption peaks when I traverse its undulations, sinfully and gleefully. Its all worth the ride to work. Life is filled with enthusiasm. And I am inspired, no doubt.