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Showing posts from August, 2011


Kisenyi is busy with life Clouds part to take a breath And for a moment, we see sun.
How do I write about
Naked babies standing in
Shit and mud, and at the
Same time, their smiles
Bright with teeth?

How do I tell the truth
About these places -
That they are beautiful
But also, that people need
Homes, that they shit in the open
and sleep on cardboard.

It is a strange thing
To be moved to tears
By beauty, or humanity,
Amidst such chaos.

What do I do with those tears?
What am I to make of them?

Perhaps they have been waiting
Witnessing evictions, death
And homelessness. Perhaps
They come because facing such
Injustice, facing death
There is song, dance, hope.

a lot of life

It's hard to find time to write anything on here these days! I suppose that is a good sign... I am certainly keeping busy. But more than that, I think it means I am spending a lot of time absorbing as opposed to reporting back. Which I suppose is also a good thing! It's certainly not a product of not having anything interesting to write about. In fact, I have just started a practice of really making myself sit down and write at least a short something about my day every day, and it has been really wonderful so far! Picking up a pen & a pad of paper and just letting thoughts on my day flow is such an old, lovely and familiar process... Especially for processing loads of sensory experiences & thoughts from busy, exciting days.

Today it was officially one month that I have been at my job. In this month I have: traveled to Namibia, met some of the people I have most admired intellectually, sat in on a community mapping exercise in one of the informal settlements in Cape To…

middle barrier

In the morning, the blue sky
Opens pink across the fields,
Grasses awake in orange and
Smoke rising over the hills.

Scenes of life, closer to the
Road than I am used to --
Children kick threadbare toys
Along the shoulder, and men
Cross the median, leaping the
Middle barrier towards work.

A young boy shits beside
Passing cars; He faces away
Towards shacks and concrete
Walls, a tangled web of wires
Carrying light and fire into the night.

How do we reconcile this with
The rising mountain, the pink
Skies? Philippi after a cold rain,
Lazy cows and crying children;
Dirty water and a view of the
Crashing Atlantic.