Pieces of moi

Fallen

2011-12-09T09:58:00.001+02:00

I reach back expecting the warm familiar strength that isyour hand enveloping mine.

All I find is emptiness.

I assume you have fallen a few steps behind and will gentlytouch my shoulder to remind me that you are still on this journey with me.

My heart misses a beat. An all too familiar feeling of hot panicconsumes me.

A cacophony of nothingness resounds in the silence of thatmissed heartbeat.

I look back and miss my step.

I fall into an abyss.

I fall to pieces.

The purpose of living

2011-12-06T11:14:00.001+02:00

The purpose of living is to work towards becoming our‘higher selves’: the best possible version of ourselves.

We will not always getit right but the merit is in staying on the right path. It involves how weengage in our relationships with friends, lovers, humanity as a whole and mostimportantly with ourselves.

Be the person you would want to befriend and love. Show your body and health the respect it deserves.

Our higher selves have a legacy of service that they mustlive and leave behind. For some of us it is clearly defined in our chosencareer paths, for others it is not so cut and dry.

Aha moment!

2011-07-21T13:00:00.000+02:00

The universe always works for your highest good. When you are unsure of your worth, it simply waits for you to gain clarity before proceeding ~ Lisa Nichols

The gift of being a woman

2011-07-21T11:38:00.000+02:00

To be born a girl is a gift we were given.

To become a woman of wisdom and courage is a gift we give to the world.

Ella Bella and Jean Luc Baptiste

2011-05-23T13:10:00.000+02:00

My name is Ella Bella Bleu and his name is Jean Luc Baptiste Depardieu. My name rings like a nursery rhyme character, his like a French silver screen sex god from the days when silver screens were silver. I have sad brown, doe like eyes and he has brown playful eyes that hint at everything but mostly mischief.

The first time we met, he made me smile, laugh, blush and convinced me to dance in teetering heels that were not even made for walking. At 3am I might add. All before he knew my name and I his. He was so charming and full of swag, he had me dancing to a song I did not like, and I found myself being taught how to salsa in a room full of people. Ella Bella Bleu who always has it together would ordinarily have politely declined. Jean Luc Baptiste. What a name! Reminds me of my crush on Captain Jean Luc Picard of the USS Starship Enterprise.

Jean Luc Baptiste was the dandelion in the midst of blackjacks that night. But in true Ella Bella Bleu commitment-phobe form, I could not help blowing him away. Excuse the double entendre. Ironic pun? A month passed by from the first time I met him. I had not laid eyes on him since, when out of the Bleu, at the end of the night he suddenly appeared, like those dormant desert flowers after a torrential rain. He smiled at me from across the bar. That smile of his that is a cornucopia of innuendos. Badaboum! Patatras! Ange ou demon? I wonder. I think both. I now have the mighty task of putting this dandelion back together. Parachute by parachute. So that I can get back to where it all began. Not a jolted rewind like a VCR, but one like that Enigma video. You know the one. Seamless transition to the moment he asked for my number. Ella Bella needs to warn Jean Luc.

The moment before the kiss

2011-04-16T16:21:00.000+02:00

A moment of eternity.
Those milli, nano, pico seconds when I realize that he is about to kiss me for the first time.
A moment fragmented, seen and felt through a kaleidoscope of human emotion.
His head coming towards me.
That Matrix moment when a thousand things can take place in a dimension independent of time.
The intrinsic electrical impulses of my sinoatrial node short-circuit.
Erratic heartbeat.
To pull away or not to pull away?
Palpable tension, like same magnetic poles being pushed together, yet propelling towards each other as fast as opposite poles.
Defying the laws of the Universe.
For a moment the earth forgets it's axial tilt 23.4 or is that 22.1 degrees?
Is it orbiting the sun in the right direction?
A million thoughts yet none at all.
Is a black hole really nothingness, or is it this undefinable moment?
Then the kiss.
The brief collision of two Universes.
Parfait.
The Big Bang Theory.
A whole lot of something from a whole lot of nothing is how it all begins.
Two kisses on the cheeks, and third one for good measure?

History. My story

2011-03-23T11:08:00.000+02:00

History.
A tale of inconvenient truths turned lies.
Delusions of a misguided superiority complex.

Convicts, societal misfits, noblemen, bible men.
You happen upon my treasures and pillage them.
I know you not, though you seem familiar.
A baby that ran away from the Cradle to return a Man? What Kind?
I know you not.
Who are you? He who suckles on my breast.
Denying my children the milk that rightfully belongs to them.
You sink your toothless gum into my areola in greed.
You draw blood instead.
Blood stained milk.
You continue to drink.
You grow fat like a tick.
A blood filled tick.
You rape my children.
You lust for them in the darkness of your heart.
You show hatred for them in the light of day.
Shame denies meeting your acquaintance.
Rightly so.
You rape me.
Planting your seed in my soil.
Do I kill the alien spawn?
No. I let them grow.
Invasive species.
Breeding like rabbits set free in Venice.

History.
A tale of inconvenient truths turned lies.
Delusions of a misguided superiority complex.

The bricks you lay cannot stand without mortar.
You happen upon my houses of stone.
Dzimba dzemabwe.
Ancient kingdoms. Political powerhouses. Universities.
You sing of going to Timbuktu as if you know where it is.
Not an ounce of cement.
My houses still stand.
You dig around. Pocketing souvenirs for your brothers.
Archaeologists. Anthropologists. He says
I say desecraters and robbers.
History. My Story.
Is it not you who continues to deny my Nubians up North credit for their ingenuity and politics.
Too dark to be mighty pharaohs?
Rather darkness by melanin than darkness by ignorance.

History.
A tale of inconvenient truths turned lies.
Delusions of a misguided superiority complex.

I am tiring of you now.
I will crush you to protect my own.
You make mental slaves of my children.
You dare not make physical slaves of them on my soil.
No. You turn them on each other and take them away for that.
A New World Order he says?
A New Way of Thinking I say.
Kalashnikov.Uranium. IMF he says.
Nesta. Hussain. Gabriel. Julius I say.
History shall be overwritten by My Story.

“A great flame follows a little spark” ~ Dante Alighieri - The A and B Chronicles

2011-03-10T20:00:00.000+02:00

“A great flame follows a little spark” ~ Dante Alighieri. This quote epitomizes what I felt for a man I shall refer to as A...In fact it was not just a flame but a veld fire. It was a runaway veld fire that was fanned by the unrelenting South Easter, which is a woman’s imagination. According to Jane Austen, “A lady’s imagination is very rapid. It jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment“. A is what I would describe as nothing short of a tall dark black Adonis. His beauty is of no consequence to me. Let me rephrase that, it is of relatively little consequence to me. If you know me well you are most probably laughing. Fine…the man takes my breath away! When he walks into the room I see only him, I feel only him. We exist as a dipole moment that is independent of distance and charge. He makes my body temperature rise, slightly denaturing my DNA and rendering all enzymatic processes temporarily inactive. I am not only attracted to his physical form but I am intrigued by his Jekyll and Hyde character.

I fell for his Dr Jekyll-Once upon a time Cassanova character but I am now faced with his rapid metamorphosis into a Mr Hyde who has yet to have an addendum added to his name. The Jekyll side of him was soft-spoken yet strong, protective and respectful. When I looked into his eyes, I saw a part of him I see in myself. Almost an inherent sadness. A beauty in him I wanted to possess. I wanted, needed to be possessed by him. I still do. In fact he owns me already, he just doesn’t know it. And now I’m afraid that once he dies and Mr Hyde has taken over and deformed his ‘higher self’ I will be a casualty…the proverbial unknown soldier, my tomb any future relationships I have.

Though intrigued by the forceful existences of A’s alter egos, my interest in Mr Hyde is similar to that shown by a scientist to a PCR reaction gone wrong and the presence of that unwanted luminescent band. Who are you? Why are you here? And how the hell do I get rid of you?

to be continued

Namaste (Sanskrit Greeting)

2011-03-10T17:10:00.000+02:00

I honour the place in you in which the universe dwells;

I honour the place in you of light, of peace, of truth and of happiness;

And if you are in that place and I in mine;

We are one

Random moment

2011-03-02T20:38:00.000+02:00

There is something haunting about catching a glimpse of one's own reflection in a mirror and seeing a feeling seemingly unfelt in the moment, brimming from one's eyes. Almost as if the soul was slowly seeping out of the eyes instead of tears. I saw sadness, despair, solitude. I saw myself and and wanted to ask myself what the matter was, but I did not want to intrude. I wanted to see how much of myself I would reveal when I thought no one was watching. I wanted to see if all of me would flow out and what would be left. For a moment of eternity I saw what certain people see when they look at me.

Haiku beats

2010-12-17T15:35:00.000+02:00

Busta Make It Clap
Chris Breezy Can Transform Ya
Swizz says you Fancy

PCR Haiku

2010-12-17T15:08:00.000+02:00

PCR done right
DNA replication
One band on a gel

Why Haiku-ing

2010-12-17T15:03:00.001+02:00

Word play is so cool
Haiku shows your swag with words
Make it rhyme or not

Haiku-ing my life

2010-12-17T14:59:00.000+02:00

It may sound bizarre
I am haiku-ing my life
Let this be my first

Happy 20th human years birthday Baby

2010-11-27T14:30:00.000+02:00


My Baby

Cabbage Patch Kids for those who do not know are the coolest hand made dolls with fabric bodies and plastic or porcelain heads. People either love them or hate them. I love them! Limited numbers are made..and they were so popular in the 80s people used to fight over them in malls. Legend says they come from magic sparkling cabbages with crystals that pop out unique kids each time. The kids then go to Babyland General Hospital (real place) awaiting adoption. I got my Baby when I was about 4 or 5 years old and I still have her. She still has a full head of hair (think Diana Ross) despite all the washing and styling I did. I got her as gift from a very special angel Tracy. I love the gap in her teeth and her chubby cheeks. Baby is not ugly, she just does not look like what you want her to look like. Apparently there is a couple in the US, where else, who have openly admitted to loving the CPK more than their son...disturbing..again only the US!

What's in a name? 2

2010-02-15T13:00:00.001+02:00

Victoria Falls. Named in honour of Queen Victoria by David Livingstone, the first white man to set eyes upon the majestic falls. Why should Zimbabwe, that is supposedly on its way to 'never being a colony again' still paying homage to the British monarch? It should simply be renamed Mosi a Tunya, the smoke that thunders.

Thunderstorm in Harare

2010-01-13T16:24:00.002+02:00

The dark grey cumulonimbus clouds hang heavy and low in the sky. They are heavily pregnant with the promise of an unimaginable deluge. An eerie darkness ungulfs the earth, similar to that of a partial eclipse or the darkness one imagines covered the earth at 1500h on that Friday on Calvary. It is 1600h. I imagine how pretty it must be above the clouds, where the sun is still shining and the sky is a clear blue and only wisps of runaway cirrus clouds are floating along, carried by the jet stream.

The earth is still radiating warmth from the unforgiving midday sun. The first bolt of lightning strikes somewhere in the distance. I do not see it but the tell tale gentle rumble of thunder follows. I make my way up the concrete stairwell of our apartment building to the 6th floor. I avoid using the fire escape. The view that greets me is one I have gazed upon most of my life, but one I never tire of. It is of the Harare Gardens. It is only a block away from where I am perched. Immediately behind the park is the CBD and the tallest buildings in the city, the Reserve Bank and Karigamombe with their blue glass walls rising majestically into the sky. The tops of these buildings are hidden by the low lying clouds. The people walking along the central path of the park, though tiny, one could easily identify someone of familiar countenance or gait. At this moment, everyone is in a hurry to arrive at their destination or at least find temporary shelter, as they can sense that the downpour that is about to be upon them will be unforgiving and no umbrella or raincoat is going to offer any protection.

I wait patiently for the first drops to free themselves from their mother's belly. That moment is much like the first moments of a first kiss. So profound, so much promise in those nanoseconds and never to experienced in quite the same way again. And surely enough those fat babies fall before my eyes. This is my favourite kind of rain. Where every single drop is initially discernible to the human eye. Seconds later the heavenly bucket is tipped over. The rain pounds heavily on every surface it hits. If I listen carefully, i can discern the different sounds emmanating from the different surfaces. The corrugated iron roof of the car ports. The tarmac. The branches of the avocado, jacaranda, king palm and mulberry trees.

Another bolt of lightning flashes across the sky and is rapidly followed by another and another. The thunder that follows soon after is explosive. The instantaneous filling of a vacuum with superheated steam. My skin tingles. I love thunderstorms. The energy that is generated by lightning is a reminder of the power of God.

FIFA 2010 World Cup Draw: Long Street

2009-12-05T11:31:00.001+02:00

Wow! Last night was the FIFA World Cup Draw in Cape Town. Long Street
was awesome. J&B. Dancing. Walking around aimlessly. Hotties. Random
coloured guy sticking his tongue down my throat (more of a lol
moment). Klepto moment. I am the new proud owner of a hardcover book
of Michelangelo's work. Good times.

Street fashion caption

2009-12-01T10:06:00.000+02:00

I'm famous!..lol.... This street fashion blogpost has photos of Tina, Ben and I in Observatory. I'm the one in the grey top and leggings. Tina is in the white dress and Ben is wearing the trilby.

Blog: Cinder & Skylark
Post: Friday 27 & Saturday 28 November2009

http://cinderandskylark.blogspot.com/2009/11/friday-27-saturday-28-november.html

What's in a name?

2009-11-25T18:07:00.001+02:00

What is up with 'Homo sapiens rhodesiensis'? The name that refers to
the earliest human remains found on the Zimbabwe Plateau, that have
been shown to be 100,000 years old by carbon dating. Last time I
checked Rhodes hadn't been born and neither were his ancestors
frequenting the Zim Plateau!
And yes as a scientist I am well aware of how random the naming of
species is, but naming black men rhodesiensis is blasphemous.

Random

2009-11-25T17:51:00.001+02:00

If you are not a socialist by the age of twenty then you have no
heart, but if you are not a conservative by the age of forty then you
have no brain!

Random

2009-11-25T17:36:00.001+02:00

Liberté! Egalité! Fraternité!

Beautiful cloud as seen from my balcony

2009-09-02T12:09:00.001+02:00

Mark Vermeulen at his best

2009-08-20T17:29:00.001+02:00

Mark Vermeulen is one of my favourite Zim cricketers. The most memorable game I watched him play was the 2nd test against the Windies at Queen's in 2003. We were 31 for 3. Zim was up against a formidable bowling attack of Edwards, Collimore and Dillon. Mark was playing a restrained game and at one time scored only 3 runs in an hour just after Wishart had fallen. Eventually he broke his shackles and went on to score his 1st test century. I had never seen anyone hang in there like he did. Was so proud

2009-05-07T14:38:00.004+02:00

"If any student comes to me and says he wants to be useful to mankind and go into research to alleviate human suffering, I advise him to go into charity work instead. Research wants real egotists who seek their own pleasure and satisfaction but find it in solving the puzzles of nature"

Albert Szent-Gyorgi, US Biochemist

This is so true. I used to have all these wonderful ideas about how my being a biotechnologist would help solve a great medical mystery and how it would ulitmately help the human race. Now that I am here, I am more concerned about making myself a highly esteemed scientist and publishing in high impact factor journals.......so sad!

Weird Celebrity Crushes

2009-05-06T11:17:00.003+02:00

I know I am not alone on this one!! We are all guilty of having secret crushes and fantasies about the not so conventionally attractive male celebrities. My list in no particular order:

Simon Cowell (If u watch American Idol or Britain's Got Talent u r 90% likely to be guilty on this count!) I secretly hope to be the one who saves him from himself and commit to his one true love.....ME!
Jeremy Clarkson (You cannot have watched Top Gear and not thought how you would love to have him test drive your car and tell you how truly atrocious it is).......okay maybe it is kinda weird.
Donald Trump (Melania who??? Even though I have no great interest in running one of his companies, the thought of being the Apprentice who goes on to steal his heart is quite appealing). I am prepared to look past his hair. Or lack thereof....
Bill Clinton (He was after all the first black president!).

And then there are the no go areas:

Tom Cruise (Scientology is a no go area! Jumping on Oprah's couch is unforgivable!)
George Bush (For the obvious reason that he is an ape)

Pictures:
Simon Cowell, www.thedailydust.co.uk
Jeremy Clarkson, www.mammjtommo.files.wordpress.com

Mickey Tickey

2008-03-01T23:41:00.002+02:00

This story was for a Biotechnology honours assignment. I started it at midnight of the morning it was due and finished it at 4am.....and i hadn't slept for the past couple of days.....

The sun had barely risen from its slumber and yet the pale blue sky was as bright as midday. The cawing of those wretched crows had woken up Little Mickey. Mickey disliked the crows because they were always boasting about how brave and intelligent they were and how they would steal food from school children during lunch break. Mr Tickey disliked crows because they hung around in graveyards and rubbish dumps and that was certainly no place for fine birds such as swallows. Mr Tickey even told Mickey a horrible story about how a bunch of crows had eaten a lamb alive. Mrs Tickey on the other hand loved crows. Mickey did not know why his mother always had good things to say about crows. He assumed it was because of her good heart. Mummies always have good hearts. She would often tell Mickey how honourable crows were and how their white cravats, bibs according to Mr Tickey, were so classy.

Mickey really ought not to have been complaining about being woken up early. First of all he was a bird and birds are supposed to wake up the rest of the world. What would all those silly animals that spend all their time on the land do if all the birdies decided to sleep in and not sing? Secondly, he was starving and judging by the sounds of rolling thunder coming out of his belly he would not have been asleep for much longer. Mr and Mrs Tickey, Mickey and his siblings were getting ready to go find some breakfast. Their morning excursion was always a long one because Mr Tickey somehow always managed to meet an old friend he had not seen in ages, encounter a cat or a human boy with a slingshot. Mrs Tickey, like all women do, liked to find out who had done what, who was getting married to who and who was moving where. Luckily she did not have to fly around visiting every nest to find that out. That would have made Mickey very tired and he would not have enough time to play with his brothers. Mrs Tickey always made one stop, by an old msasa tree.

On this particular morning, Sophia, who one might think was young because she went by her first name was in fact a middle-aged owl who’s face was in a race to get old before her body. Sophia was by far the most popular owl with the ladies because she was the wellspring of knowledge. She was actually more like the wellspring of community gossip. She could often tell tales about birds that were long dead as if she had known them personally. Mr Tickey, who always had an opinion on everyone and every thing, would often tell Mickey that she was most peculiar for her kind because she was always awake during the day. This did not worry Mickey, but the fact that by afternoon one would see her hanging upside down in her tree supposedly asleep amazed him.

On this particular day, they stayed by the old msasa until after lunch. Mrs Tickey was so caught up in her conversation she did not notice the time fly by. She was much too excited. Apparently, a Mr Sheryl Crow was in town. Who Mr Sheryl Crow was Mickey had no idea. All he knew was that today was the day him and his brothers were supposed to go and visit the Warbler children. When Mrs Tickey and the children finally got home, Mr Tickey was not impressed because he had no one to tell about how he almost found himself locked in the jaws of some ill-mannered dog, but because of his flying prowess he managed to escape just in time. Swallows are well known for being for excellent fliers after all. Mickey, who was always ready with information, was quick to tell his father that Mr Sheryl Crow was in town. He did not notice his father go pale. Yes, birds do go pale. He was also quick to let his father know how excited his mother had been. Mickey quite forgot that he was supposed to detest crows and their like, but the thought of a new person in town excited him. “Was he going to coming over for a visit”, he asked his father? Mickey hardly noticed his father’s lack of response. All that can be said is that they had a very quiet dinner that night.

It was only a few weeks later that Mickey found out who Mr Sheryl Crow was. Mrs Tickey had decided that is was time her and Mickey had a little chat. It did not sound too good. The last time she had used that motherly tone of hers she had pushed him out of the nest in an attempt to teach him how to fly. She told Mickey how much she loved her family and how much Mr Tickey loved him. Not good, he thought. All of this sounded a lot like what Mr Ernest Hummingbird had told his children before he flew off with some cuckoo lady. She then proceeded to take him on a little excursion to the other side of town. He had never been there before and noticed how there seemed to be a lot of crows around. They soon came to a very untidy looking place with large piles of awful smelling things. The crows were all over the place stuffing their beaks with whatever they could get swallow. It was then that a large crow flew over to meet them. It did not take Mickey long to realise that this bird was Mr Sheryl Crow. Before he had time to ask his mother just what Mr Tickey would say about this visit to the wrong side of town, it was then that he saw the most beautiful little bird he had ever seen. She did not have glossy dark blue feathers like him neither did she have a beautiful white breast, nor a long tail like his. She was in fact all black. She did not even have a white cravat.

Mickey soon forgot where he was or whom he was with. He promptly made his way over to say hello. Birds are not like humans. They do not waste any time. Mickey was very quick to tell her she was very beautiful for a crow. The little black bird laughed at him and told him he was very handsome for a crow. “I am not a crow”, he replied. “Yes you are. Your feathers are as black as soot, just like mine”, she said. Before you get the wrong idea about Mrs Tickey because I did too, you have to hear what I later heard from Sophia. Sophia really does know everything. It turns out that a long time ago, Mrs Tickey, who went by the name of Barbie in those days, caused a scandal in the bird world when she fell in love with a certain crow. Yes you guessed it. Mr Sheryl Crow. No one had ever heard of a swallow and a crow falling in love.

Their love was a summer romance and by the time winter had arrived their relationship was over. It turned out that crows also think lowly of swallows and Sheryl gave in to his parents’ demands and married another crow. Unfortunately she died just after one of her eggs had hatched. Yes, the chick was called Mickey. Sheryl was too traumatised and did not know the first thing about raising a chick alone. That is when Barbie, who by then was married to Mr Tickey decided to adopt little Mickey. Despite Mr Tickey’s initial reservations, he fell in love with little Mickey. Sheryl went away overseas not to be seen for several years until now.
THE END

The horrors of public transport

2007-12-16T17:54:00.000+02:00

There is nothing more horrifying than being in a taxi or train with people who do not cover their mouths when they are coughing! What scares me even more is the fact that I am living in the Western Cape, which supposedly has the worst incidence of TB in the world. Not only that but there have been incidences of the drug resistant strain in a neighbouring province. My pretty pink lungs do not need millions of Mycobacterium tuberculosis buggers coated in someone's mucus making their way down my respiratory tract to invade my precious lung cells. I do not need to be taking pills for months on end all because of some idiot who's mother didn't teach them any manners. I have tried giving these disease spreaders my nasty eye but to no avail. I have simply resorted to holding my breath and covering my mouth and nose with a scarf (if I'm luck enough to have one) or my hand, at least until the little droplets of mucus have dropped. Not that it helps, because I read somewhere that M. tuberculosis can invade your body through the eyes, but it helps keep me sane.

If only the horrors of public transport ended there. Why oh why do people feel the need to leave their houses without taking a shower and then squeeeze themselves next to you or bump into you. Sweat from that day can be excused but from a couple of days ago is inexcusable. If you can afford to wear fake Lacostes with lizards on them I am pretty sure you can afford a bar of soap and spare a few minutes in the shower.

Lastly, earphones are exactly that. They are not loudspeakers. I do not want to hear your music, so do your eardrums and my sanity a favour and turn the damn volume down!!

Zim cricket memories

2007-04-13T16:19:00.001+02:00

Zim cricket for me was what soccer is to the Brazilians. Watching players such as Alistair Campbell, Andy Flower, Heath Streak, Andy Blignaut and Craig Wishart was a definite highlight. I made it a point to always make an appearance at the Harare Sports Club at least once for every test and one day series being played. Even though we never won any test matches the spirit of the team was always something to marvel at. For me, it was small moments like a brilliant catch or shot, the odd 50 or century (we all know how hard those were to come by! One of my most memorable moments is of when Heath Streak got his first well deserved test century against the Windies in November 2003. He was batting low in the order and he had just made the shot that got him his century. Ray Price was the next man in and a shot was taken of Ray on his knees taking a photo of Heath taking his shot and all the other Zim players getting up in unison to cheer him on. This test match was especially memorable for those who watched it because Tatenda Taibu had reached his then highest test score of 83 from 186 balls and Heath and Andy Blignaut broke a Zimbabwe record for a partnership of 168 for an eighth wicket partnership. The previous record had been held by Guy Whittall and Bryan Strang for 111 against Pakistan in Harare in 1997-98. Blignaut went out for 91, just one shot away from his career best of 92, which I think was also against the Windies in Harare again but 2 years earlier. If I was fortunate enough to be at home to watch the matches on TV, the commentary was very entertaining, esp. listening to old greats like Dave Houghton. And I just have to say that the Zim team has always had the greatest proportion of good looking players. Think Andy B, Sean Ervine, Travis Friend, Trevor Gripper and (swoon) the guy with the best smile was definitely Guy Whittall :-)

2007-04-13T16:14:00.000+02:00

The Harare Gardens are Harare's answer to Central Park in New York. Like most places in Zimbabwe they have seen better days. I remember growing up in the Avenues, and countless hours being spent exploring the place with my gang (most appropriate term). The highlight of the park was the playground. From the aeroplane, tractor and merry go round to the tunnels and jungle gym. Graduating from the baby slide to the grown up slide was a sure sign you were growing up and becoming fearless. Graduating to the big slide also meant your playground days were coming to an end. The peacock and other small birds of every imaginable colour in the aviary were a constant source of amusement. I wonder if the peacock that is there is the same one that was there in the early 90s. The playground wasn't the only source of entertainment. There were several fish ponds all over the park. Needless to say we never had to buy any goldfish, all we needed was a plastic with no holes, and quick feet to carry us out of the park before any of the City workers saw us.

The most interesting part of the park was what we referred to as the jungle. It was an island in the middle of the park with plants totally enclosing it even from above. It had mini rivers and valleys and a miniature Victoria Falls. There was even a Vic Falls Bridge. We, however had to share this treasure with lovers who also saw it as their "special place". I can only imagine how much of a menace we were to them. The jungle wasn't the only place we had to share with other people.In fact any place in the park that had beautiful flower beds, which was practically everywhere was a spot where we were at risk of coming out on a gospel video being filmed. No innocent passer-bys such as ourselves could have lived up coming out on Gospel Trumpet on Saturdays which I think is now called the Prime Gospel Show.

The mother of highlights was definitely the Christmas display every December. The 12 days of Christmas from the partridge in a pear tree to 12 whatevers whatevering were there. The old woman who lived in a shoe, the seven dwarfs and of course the nativity scene. There was even a post box to the North Pole for those of us who thought he just might exist, and made a trip down this side. The wishing well was one utility I made full use of. I wonder what children these days put into the wishing well, since the demise of coins in our currency. The City Council i'm sure made a plan, as they can do with as much money as they can get their hands on.Of course I outgrew the park, but nonetheless continued to walk through it on my way to town. The old white people who did lawn bowling were still there the last time I checked. The only thing seriously wrong now is how someone, obviously a ruling party politician thought it a good idea to remove the plaque commemorating soldiers who died during World War 1.

Books, Movies, Music (2)

2007-01-22T13:24:00.001+02:00

My take on love and romance was inspired by movies. Disney's Beauty and the Beast was one of the best animated movies of all time. The Oscar wins back me on that one. I am your classic Belle who saves beast from himself. The best scene? Near the end when Belle is falling from the ledge and Beast reaches out to catch her small, slender hand in his big beastly paw (hand?) and the immortal words "Beast" ( in that soft, feminine, damsel in distress, you've come to my rescue, even though I thought you weren't coming, I always knew I could count on you voice), and "Belle" (in that deep, gravelly, oh my goodness I am so in love with you, and boy am I glad I got here on time voice).

I will not get into the debate about people and animals falling in love and what seeds movies like this plant in the minds of our young ones.

I do have to bring up The Sound of Music again. No childhood or adulthood, if you missed out on it as a child, is complete without it. It is filled with so many life lessons. From thinking of your favourite things during thunderstorms, the many uses of old drapes, how music solves any and every problem, to, you can never have too many children.

The Jungle Book is another Disney classic that is, well a classic to me. With a friend like Baloo who knows how to have a good time and who sees the lighter side of life and another like Bagheera to keep you grounded life is that much more of a pleasure. The best scene? Definitely when Mowgli and Bags think that Baloo is dead, and Bags gives Baloo's eulogy. If you didn't tear up during the eulogy then chances are you did soon after, simply from the relief that Baloo wasn't actually dead.

While on the topic of teary scenes, the death of Mufasa in Lion King 1 got me. The lesson I got from this one was that true friends can not see each other for a long time, pick up where they left off and have an even greater friendship. Look at Simba and Nala. This movie is another reason I will never be a vegetarian or feel guilty about eating meat. It is after all "The Circle of Life". But the most important lesson was we were all born for greatness but we all have to work hard for it.

Books, Movies, Music (1)

2007-01-18T14:16:00.001+02:00

In books, music and movies I have lived some of the best moments of my life. My first most treasured book was a large book of the best nursery rhymes by world famous children's book author and artist Richard Scarry. Judging by the blue ink squiggles across the pages, I got the book before I could read or knew the value of books. Once I could read, I began to recognize the nursery rhymes my mother used to recite to me. From "As I was going to St. Ives" to "Mary Mary quite contrary". Of course I didn't fully understand most of them but I knew them very well regardless. The reason this book is even more precious to me is the words inscribed on the inside cover, "To Michelle, with lots of love Mom". They do say books or the passion for reading is the greatest gift you can give your children.

Countless hours were spent lost in the worlds of Tom Thumb and Sleeping Beauty. Fairy tale books were my favourite books growing up. Then again what other books does one own at that age? The stories were never far fetched and I often found myself starring in those tales, obviously as the leading lady. My favourite was cooking and cleaning for the 7 dwarfs. Living in a fantasy world is a form of escapism I still use today. I am a self confessed day dreamer. Very few things hold my undivided attention.

Fairy tales are not only for children. They deal with many issues we face in our lives.When taken apart they can be put back together in a myriad of ways. Hansel and Gretel and Cinderella for example deal with step families. In typical fairy tale fashion the stepmother is evil and the angelic mother is dead.The father is a complete walkover and blind to the faults of his new wife. Of course some people in step families will know that this is not always the case.For all we know H and G's mother could have run away with a gypsy lover, leaving the husband no choice but to lie to the children that mummy had died to spare them the pain of a run away mother. Who really believes that Cinderella and her prince lived happily ever after??The more likely story is that his real love was a divorced woman with children therefore it would not have been proper to marry her. Though I'm sure Cindy was really popular with the plebs as she had a big heart and all, but we all know that if your hubby does not love you then no amount of public adoration will make you happy.

Movies and not fairy tales have had the greatest influence on my perception of love and relationships. I totally don't buy the whole guy saves girl scenario. I am all for girl saves guy guy saves girl. Hence "Pretty Woman" did it for me. Of course I don't intend on becoming a prostitute because only Julia Roberts could have pulled it off like that and the likelihood of meeting a Richard Gere is kinda slim when you are working the streets. Oh but the best movie of all time has to be the "Sound of Music". Any one who knows me will know that I am completely obsessed with the movie and the soundtrack. If I ever meet a Captain in Austria with seven children and a villa you can bet I'll be there.Only problem is I can't sing. My favourite movies aren't only about love. I love watching Anthony Hopkins and Denzel Washington. Please note I do not like Denzel because he is totally hot.These two actors are simply the best at what they do. Every single movie they act in is worth watching. They do everything with such precision. Who can forget the way Hannibal said "Clarice". Still gives me the shivers. If I were to ever meet Anthony I would make sure we meet in a public place. He was rather convincing don't you think. A little too convincing....