Desert boy

Bismilah

Why do you insist on showing your buttocks to all and sundry?




The words of a 16 century Malian slave and son of the forger of iron, directed towards a 16 year old, 21st century youth from London. Stabbed in the belly, and dying on a deserted beach, with a dying phone he has no option of calling for help, this is when his whole life flashes in front of him and he is visited by the Malian slave dressed in sheets of flowing embroidered cotton.



This is desert boy a musical now showing for three days at the contact theatre and a truly unequalled experience of new greetings between two sides of history who have been uncomfortable bed fellows for a long time.



The story of slavery and the situation of the black community in its aftermath. We are shown in very striking detail the emasculation of the black man by a past and history, deeply rooted in slavery and his futile attempt to forcefully reclaim it. We see an absence of fathers to raise sons and thus creating a very narrow divide between manhood and boyhood.



The execution of the play is beautifully done. I especially liked the story telling ability of the script which brought out a unique African feel to it; although I would have preferred, personally a little more African “more pepper in my soup” in the music of the play in which all the songs were in English.



However the musical is definitely worth your time and I would encourage anybody who is free tonight to pop in to the contact at 8pm for its last showing.



Peace, poetry, prosperity and splashing

Moving house

Bismilah

It’s another of those times where we have to pack up yet again and move to another location another place where the air is sweeter the sun is warmer, in our case the waters are sweeter across the street where we move to a house exactly like the one we currently occupy the only difference being that it has more windows. So we started off today (after a morning of English course work at collage) ferrying cleaning equipment across the street. Me in my summer shorts and vacuum cleaner in hand ready to start warming up to our new house. Well it wasn’t an easy task scrubbing toilets, the kitchen and mopping floors but we managed before sunset and had a good time doing it. The only problem being that it reeked of cigarette smoke which really bugged us all of us being non-smokers. Hopefully the repeated deodorising that we did on the carpets will rid us of the scent. Apart from that we had a great time making jokes and listening to music as we got on with hard manual labour under the watchful eye of the lioness that is my mother.

Now am back home packing up my clothes in garbage bags (I never realised how much I had until now that am filling one garbage bag after the other). As much I would like to help with the moving tomorrow, (no I would not) I have a chemistry class early in the morning! Now I have to contend with not being able to say goodbye to the house that has been my home for the past year and just when I started to warm up to it....

Well change is a new canvas for fresher colours and I grab my paint brush ready to splash ever dull moment to come with a splash of brilliance....... SYKE.... am hoping so at least, by God’s grace.

Peace, poetry, prosperity and splashing.....

May you live in intresting times

Bismilah

There is a Chinese curse that says may you live in interesting times. Those who know me will know that I do in fact consider myself as an occupier of those interesting hostels that the Chinese shaman might have been referring to when he strung the heavy chains that carried that curse. Not to be misunderstood, I am not cursed contrary to that I am quite fortunate and blessed. However the weight of those words when I fist came across them did have quite an effect on me. I remember that it was at this talk a while ago, well when exactly and what it was about escapes me but the Chinese curse thankfully remains with me. It made me think of how I thought my life was boring and uneventful you know that whole babble of how I should appreciate what I have and not ask for burdens that are not mine, the constant be grateful. Well I do believe now that I look at my life from the perspective of eventfulness being a curse I think that it is quite interesting and eventful in its own right. I do not however agree with all that Chinese wisdom passed down from generation to generation completely. I take part of and the part I take I dilute (homoeopathically). This is because even though my life is quite eventful, my events are the source of my strengths and joys they are my experiences, the savoury bits in life.

And what the hell... they do beat boredom.....

Peace, poetry, prosperity and splashing....

summer heat, fries, ice cream, lemonade and meanness

Bismilah

The English summer is a mean heat wave, (that scratch that) it’s a blanketing depression, and it covers your skin and body with such effectiveness that you pray breezes. however the severe sunshine is better that the wet, gloomy British winters. with that said I am officially welcoming the barbeque season with all of its sauces, salads, spuds and tender cuts. its not summer without charcoal, ginger ale and strawberry sundaes. standing over glowing coals with a metal spoke shaking off the ashes and turning juicy cuts and corn cobs.

If the prior dose not interest you (can’t stand Smokey barbeques). You can venture into the Piccadilly and see the other side of this summer coin. The Manchester Piccadilly gardens is a site to behold with its communal showers (the water fountain) and the vast manicured lawns, it is the single place where the whole of “Greater Manchester” congregates, licks ice cream and slurps at smoothies, this ideal location is truly a diamond in the heart of Manchester but a crowded one indeed. it would not be summer without an afternoon at Piccadilly lounging in the grass savouring cold and creamy things. while your eyes feast on the colourful melee that is the nations summer rainbow.

I however prefer a lazy afternoon at home, a simmering pitcher of lemonade profusely sweating in the summer heat, slow beats travelling from a speaker some where, tinting my view with my dark sunglasses (uv) and just chilling. watching people transverse my view or following lines of words in a page of captivating literature (Tony Morrison’s, TAR BABY)

Well whatever tickles your fancy make sure you truly enjoy this season in all its spectrums and try to stay awake for the sun set now that its at 10 pm.

peace, poetry, prosperity and splashing

Baby steps

Bismilah

My first trip and I hesitantly venture out of my comfort zone. This is my first post and I am in fact very apprehensive about my blogging prowess; however I realise that I am looking at it the wrong way and it is not about competence in blogging or lack of competence for that matter. That is because in my opinion personal experience is unquantifiable; having said that though I do prefer personal experience written in sound prose. Well then is a blog for the audience or is it a uniquely personal account of moments that the blogger needs to share? Is it written with the reader in mind or is it like a publicly hosted diary? Well in my opinion it is sort of an amalgamation of the two where one can rant on uninhibited about the things that he/she wants to rant on about and the audience either enjoys his misery/joy or empathises with it. This unique 21^st century phenomenon is quite at its infancy and I am very much intrigued to see where it leads us... me. As for now I remain apprehensive about my blog its contents and my “blogging prowess”. This should not be confused with the fact that I am an avid blog reader and I do enjoy the enriching opinions that other people have on this and that subject matter. However anyone reading this is part and parcel of my journey and my discovery and I hope to perfume those I contact through this medium with all that is fragrant in me and not contaminate them with all that is foul in me.

I wish all my readers peace, poetry, prosperity and splashing.......

I hope you enjoy my journey and my experimentations.

Thanks.