An ode to the Zambezi (Zambia the final chapter)

I have a faint suspicion an ode should rhyme somewhere along the line but then again poetry is not my forte’ so perhaps I should rephrase …. “A tribute to the Zambezi”?

Anyway, moving along – my 5 cents (while its still in circulation) worth …

“Your grey green depths carry a history of the ages

From Living stone to Kaunda you have watched over the land,

Giving life, taking life, carrying the people on their journey

The beasts of the earth remain, ever present, part of your bounteous harvest

Shiny black river horses grunt their defiance to the heavens

The silent crocodiles patrol your liquidness, sweeping through the darkness

Your power is fleeting, reliant on the waters from the northern hills

Yet your voice is mighty, crashing with splendid abandon over “Mosi-oa-Tunya”

Craggy face shrouded in mist you are the heart of Zambia”

On “fitting in” or not (Zambia Chapter 2)

This is the view of Royal Chundu from the Zambezi river. Stand alone villas, beautifully appointed, each blessed with an inspiring deck reaching out into the water – seemingly purpose built to while away the hours.

A few precious minutes snatched one early morning, away from the wedding hubbub and a moment of quiet at the subsequent reception resulted in the most intense feeling of dejavu!

In my youth, especially at high school, I was never much concerned with the whole “fitting in” and “being part of the in crowd” phenomenon. I liked to do my own thing, at my own pace and be with people of my choosing.

Bizarrely, post appetiser and pre mains – bombarded by conversation and music there was a resounding take two …..

Done pretending to be interested in mundane conversation

Done trying to fit the mould … daughter-in-law / sister-in-law

Done caring whether you approve

Comfortable being me – partner/friend/wife/lover/fine woman

I don’t see dead people (Zambia chapter 1)

like the faintly disturbing Hayley Joel Osment in the Sixth Sense (something about that child gives me the heebie jeebies) – i see images in the bark of this awe-inspiring baobab at Royal Chundu in Zambia. Anything spring to mind?

Its kind of fun doing it with clouds as well, flat on your back on a summers afternoon and find the galleon or bugatti or even the March Hare as the scudding white smears whistle past or slowly amble – you get the idea.

I find myself taking the non-festive path on twitter and here on my much neglected blog – Christmas is not a personal high for me. No offence to anyone who has a cohesively christmas orientated gathering of the clans that loves the excess and over indulgence and can achieve utopia without irritation and back-biting. I’m genuinely as chuffed as a pig in poo for you and yours and wish you all the very best for the holidays.

For the rest of us who have a loving family but a wealth of baggage from pesky relatives and such like – commiserations and chin up, roll on the 27th.

“And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so?  It came without ribbons.  It came without tags.  It came without packages, boxes or bags.  And he puzzled and puzzled ’till his puzzler was sore.  Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before.  What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store.  What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”  ~Dr Seuss