Faith, Names & Travel

Nava Hendricks a friend of Catherine's came over to our flat this afternoon and was sharing some aspects of the Bahai faith that I find interesting. The more I relate to Muslims and Jews I realize how so alike we all are. Today I listened to Mohammed praying in the gym as he always does when he is reading the Quran aloud. He is ardent at what he does in building a relationship with God. I marvel at his dedication and believe that God does not ignore it, yet I also believe very strongly in the fact that Jesus is the way to the father. In many ways I am glad I don’t have the faith to keep a routine in order to be close to God, because I would be rubbish at it. Yet I admire the faith that Michael my Jewish friend and Mohammed my Muslim friend have. Faith is often an aspect of life that I believe helps people live on. Mike, Steve and Raquel came over for grapes. It's so good to see Steve again after three years. We never got to spend time together in NY but at least he lives on teh floor above me, and their study room window is right opposite my bedroom window. This is going to be bad as I have ten friends living on my building now. Yet it also feels good that I do not have to take trips out of the building to visit friends. El Fardous feels like a dormitory now! Several people complain that they get fed up of being called Mzungu or Oyibo or whatever name locals in a country have of the Caucasian person. Well I get called Samara every single day in Egypt. No matter whether am holiday in Sinai, Nuweiba , Dahab, Alexandria or just living and walking in Cairo people call me all sorts of things. I ignore it and live on, it does not bother me because I am used to it. Just turn it into something beautiful. Maybe we all need to experience being called a name, the Jews had one, the Irish had one and the blacks had ‘Nigger’. I think it’s only Nigger that has turned out to be a cool thing to be, today in America the young folk want to act like the Nigger and be hip and hop. Names are just names, no matter what they mean and the connotation they carry, it is up to us to turn it around. Someone once said, ‘in the cycles and seasons of life, attitude is everything.' Its twenty minutes past midnight Cairo is still loud, the honking and traffic lights with Cairenes speeding to where no one knows. I like Cairo, I like being in a city I have no attachment to. I am kind of glad I did not come searching for a home here, because I feel absolutely detached from everything. Every time I walk on the streets I am Samara, a Sudanese, a Burkina Fason, a Nigerian or an American. I am black – plain and simple. I get yelled at, sometimes I have had stones thrown at me, yet I keep coming back. Why? My sister often wondered why I shed tears at the airport; she often said “you keep crying when you are leaving, why do you leave?” They say once you start to travel, you just keep going. When you get the travel bu, it's incurable. Now, it does not help that I am from the Nomadic Tribe of the Cushites. We are cattle keepers that have to constantly find greener pastures for our cattle that is my heritage. We don’t get attached to places, because we have to learn to wake up and go, we don’t get attached to things because we have to travel long distances and less is easier to handle. And so I move, I keep moving until I find that place where my cattle are fed and tendered. I am nourished when I find an oasis, but that does not mean I stay there, I may be glad when I meet new people and experience new cultures and traditions, yet I must be ready to leave, and I am only content when what I live for is fully satisfied. My soul finds satisfaction in my faith, it is settled yet my heart is restless. It knows but one place and when I get to that place I will know for sure that it is enough for my heart.

Al Qa'hira am back!

Leaving Minneapolis at 12pm, am looking forward to the end of a hectic two day flight. My lay overs are not too bad, I dread the one in New York, its going to be five hours.

Well am off... Am in Boston, Its a small Delta airline. I get off and start searching for my gate, I look lost and puzzled. I hear a man call out,'what gate are you searching for?, he asks. I say The gate leading me to New York, he helps me find my gate by looking at a screen (which I should have looked oh dummy!) but I could not be bothered to be that keen, its my flight by the way.

Anyway he starts to chat me up, I thought he was Nigerian as am often getting hit on by random Nigerians. But he sounds like an American. Anyway whats the difference, does anyone know? He tells me he is moving to New York in two weeks, meaning: I am supposed to be excited at the prospects of a relationship or is it plain sex? He does not say. With a straight face, I tell him am just stopping over in New York but am actually leaving for Cairo. He says 'ooohooo' like a Ugandan (this man is surely a mix of persons, or maybe he is not). He gives up trying to chat me up, so maybe it was just sex he was after. I find a sit and wait. Amsterdam passengers are boarding, this is my gate but we still have another 30 minutes. I start to listen to music and write, as I am doing now. Its raining outside and I reminisce on my days - my June days in Boston. Its a lovely city. It did not grip me.I long for Harvard though.

In New York I know where my gate is, I head for it searching for Mike, a long time friend who sublet his apartment to me last year.I assume he might be on my flight after he told me he was arriving in Cairo on the 26th. I walk into the lobby and there he is. Shocked,surprised and awed at us being on the same flight. I am not, I was looking for him remember? For once I feel glad, am taking my first flight with a friend, someone I know quite well. Its a good feeling. I feel safe. He decides we need to sit together, he goes to have our seats altered. We find seats next to each other, another joy. A girl looks at us and calls out, " should I assume you are going to AUC?" we say yes, a chat begins, we are introduced to her friend Candy and we become a foursome.

There is a huge number of AUC study-abroads at the lobby, they have formed a circle and are singing Kumbaya! oh my! am starting to think we are waiting for a school bus, then I think AUC should buy its own plane. I take a walk to the toilets, they are the worst toilets I have been to at an American airport. Right in front of the lobby, the elevator is broken and there are two men fixing it while tow others look on, just staring. People are speaking Arabic, and there is a mass of AUC students! It already feels like Cairo- wait! it gets even better, or worse? our flight is delayed by 2 hours. Typical we are home! Mike and I take a walk, he wants to buy alcohol, we choose gin and wine. He pays for it, he cant have it apparently he has to get it while he is boarding the plain and he needs a boarding pass to buy it.Oh rules!

We are finally headed for Cairo, we have business class seats! no one is infront of us,am famished and fatigued. We eat dinner, watch movies and fall asleep. The guy to my right is an Egyptian going home on holiday, he tries small talk, we are both too tired and wary of small talk. He gives up. I fall asleep on Mike's shoulder- that sure feels good.The flight is 11 hours, Mike is out for about 8 of those hours, I can only do 4hrs, I stay up reading 'As a driven leaf' by Milton Steinberg. I watch Death and a funeral, with some of my best comedians; it cracks me up. By the time I decide to use the bathroom, my feet and legs are swelled up! I should have walked around.

We get to Cairo, The AUC pick up driver is infront of the plane, he has been allowed to pass immigration. We are over 100 students, it gets worse, he starts telling us what to do. Where to pick the immigration forms, asking if we have visas and where to go get the visa if we do not already have it.I tell him I have one, he tells me to go through and wait for him at baggage claim. Gosh,I feel like a freshman.

The immigration officer looks at a few visas on my passports, no questions just a glance and no qualms, am almost Egyptian- been here too many times. The stamps on my passport tell him. I head off to get my luggage, Mike's takes a while. We are told to stick together and there are 3 buses waiting for students, we get into one after hussling Nancy the lady in charge. She tells us we are not paying (Mike and I) because we get crappy seats.Its almost 8pm. Mike starts to get along really well with the study-abroad's on the bus and I sit next to this Pakistan - American girl who had never been away from California except once when she was two years old, on a trip to Pakistan. And her University is 2hrs away from her home. She seemed nervous and slightly petrified at her decision to come to Cairo, but then again there is always a first time and this too will pass.

We get home, to Sharia Nubar and it feels good. I love my crib, my new roommate did a great job, she chose well. The windows in the apartment bring in so much light and fresh air. There is so much character to this flat too. I like it despite the little strip we call a kitchen. Its home for another year, or maybe less. Catherine, Mike and I take a walk to Garden city for dinner. Mike loves foul, and I have been dodging to have it since I got to Cairo. I just never trust Cairo street food and little restaurants. I end up enjoying it, but once is enough. I hope am never too hungry to have foul! its midnight already.

I come home, and the insomnia begins, I spend the night cleaning. My body is fully swelled up at this point, the humidity is obscene, but I just keep going. Until its all done I drop off at noon the next day, wake up to darkness. its jet lag for a few more days!

Reflections from 'Broken Open'. Elizabeth Lesser : In letting God, “ we step aside and give way to something wiser than us, to the mystery that knows the truth about the past, the freedom of the present, the route of the future – dropping the burden of our fearful will- trusting in changes , trusting in God’s will.

Suffering and crisis transforms us, humbles us and brings out what matters most in life. Accidents sometimes open us to a world of meaning. How strange it is to have something so brutal bringing out so many changes in life.

'A broken heart is not the same as sadness. Sadness occurs when the heart is stone cold and lifeless. On the contrary, there is an unbelievable amount of vitality in a broken heart’

There are days when I have wanted to die because living has been way too painful. I appreciate my friends and people providing advice yet right now am kind of stuck and convicted that some advice is way too irrational and un-thought. Sometimes people are genuinely being helpful and yet do not take time to think through the advice that they may be giving and that puts someone listening and depending on this advice in a tricky position.

Oh stand at the window, as tears scald and start. You shall love your crooked neighbor with your crooked heart. – W.H. Andrew

A heart made crooked through loss and change is a heart that can love the world and it’s less than perfect people.

I think I have often seen men as a mysterious human species with whom I would like to make meaningful contact. when I got married “ I arrived carrying one big bag stuffed with longing. I brought with me nothing else – no experience, no training no wise advice, no honed instincts. I was a babe in the woods of intimacy.The rebirth of the soul is a much more arduous endeavor than merely getting a divorce, or changing jobs or having a crisis crash over the flimsy structure of a life ~ Elizabeth 

What matters is that we take a deadness of the soul seriously, that we pay attention to the contents of the heart, that we ask the head questions and fearlessly face the hidden parts of self. What matters Jung says, is that we shine the light of consciousness in the dark, corners of our life – what is not brought to consciousness, he says comes to us in fate.

Before I could participate freely in the wonders of the world, I had to test the dark fruit and leave the garden of innocence. Man must first descend into humility before he can raise himself to God. – Mark Musa (Translator & Interpreter for Dante’s inferno) says, “The only way to escape from the dark wood is to descend into hell. The only way up the mountain lit by the ray of the sun is to go down. Man must first descend into humility before he can raise himself to God. Before man can hope to climb the mountain of salvation, he must first know what sin is. The purpose of the pilgrim’s journey through hell is precisely this: To learn all these is to know about sin, as a necessary preparation for the ascent of God.”

A frozen and frightened girl cannot be a good wife or a mature mother, that a person who has never been wounded cannot heal and that a leader is worth following only if she can follow her own heart.

Fujiwara no Teika

From the beginning
I knew meeting could only
End in parting, yet
I ignored the coming down
And I gave myself to you

Jung wrote, “Eros is a questionable fellow and will always remain so…He belongs on one side to man’s primordial animal nature, which will endure as long as man has an animal body. On the other side he is related to the highest forms of the spirit. But he thrives only when spirit and instinct are in right harmony.Spirit does not farewell when lies are told.

Marion Woodman Jungian Analyst.

“We come to the mythic crossroads during moments in our lives where the unconscious crosses consciousness where the external crosses the transitory; where a higher will demands the surrender of our eyes.”

One always learns one’s mystery at the price of one’s innocence ~ Robertson Davies

"The road of truth is not an easy road to travel, but it leads onward into landscapes of freedom.And as long as you have not experienced this: To die and so to grow you are only a troubled guest on the dark earth.” ~ Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

It is better to be honest and free than it is to be right and trapped. There is a great joy in discovering our ignorance, and a great freedom in realizing how defended from the truth we have been- how often what we think is so, often not so at all.

Beauty and the Beast – A story of true love surviving false identities – beauty stays with the Beast because she sees who he really is, beneath his deceptive and fearsome veneer

Whether a marriage or a relationship survives the heat of the phoenix process is not really the issue here. Something much greater is at stake when we choose to learn and grow in the crucible of love. When trouble visits a relationship a dance with a charmane lover, a long period of deadness, a shift in role, a change in expectations – we are faced with weighty choices. Will we turn away and go back to sleep? Will we fall unconsciously into meaningless destruction, vengeance or acting out? Or will we use the dangerous force of the heart’s longing wisely and put it into service of our spiritual growth? Will the pain make us better, stronger, kinder, and bigger? Will we learn from a betrayed devotion or a broken family, so that our mistakes are not repeated over and over again?

I pray that the new relationships you build with your old partner or with a new one, is a marriage between two whole people- two people who have married the shadow and the light within themselves, and who love the truth as much as they love each other.

Today, like every other day we woke up empty and frightened. 

Don’t open the door to the study and begin reading. 

Take down the dulcimer. Let the beauty we love be what we do. 

There are hundreds of ways to kiss the ground ~ RUMI

Let the young rain of tears come, let the calm hands of grief come. It’s not all as evil as you think~ Rolf Jacobsen

Doesn’t everything die at last and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? ~ Mary Oliver (The Summer day)

We do not know where death awaits us, so let us wait for it everywhere. To practice death is to practice freedom. A man who has learned how to die has unlearned how to be a slave. 

~ Michel De Montaigne

The French Renaissance philosopher Michel de Montaigne advised people to practice death. “To begin depriving death of its greatest advantage over us, let us frequent it, let us get used to it; let us have nothing more often in mind than death…we do not know where death awaits us. So let us wait for it everywhere. To practice death is to practice freedom.

We can practice death by becoming conscious of the ways in which we resist life; we can practice death by approaching endings and partings and changes with more ease and faith. Practicing dying is indeed the practice of freedom.

Come, come, whoever you are, wanderer worshipper, lover of leaving. It doesn’t matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. Come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again, come, come. (Inscription on Rumi’s Tombstone Konya, Turkey)

When we practice dying, we are learning to identify less with ego and more with soul. 

~ Ram Dass 

Life is always changing, we live in a river of change and a river of change lives within us. Every day we are given choice, we can relax and float in the direction that the water flows, or we can swim hard against it.

“All that is us are much more like a river than anything frozen in time and space,"

~ Deepak Chopra 

“I’ve known rivers ancient as the work and older than the flow of human blood in human veins. My soul has grown deep like the rivers.” ~ Langston Hughes

The secret in life is enjoying the passage of time. ~ Richie Havens

“In the difficult are the friendly forces, the hands that work on us.” ~ Rainer Maria Rilke 

Whatever difficulties come my way is fuel for my growing consciousness ~ ‘Poignant absurdity’

When grapes turn to wine they long for our ability to change. When Stars wheel around the North Pole, they are longing for our growing consciousness. Wine got drunk with us and not the other way ~ Rumi

In the middle of the journey of our life, I found myself within a dark wood where the straightway was lost. ~ Dante

In letting God, “ we step aside and give way to something wiser than us, to the mystery that knows the truth about the past, the freedom of the present, the route of the future – dropping the burden of our fearful will- trusting in changes , trusting in God’s will.

Broken open by loss and love and life. Out there in the deep and uncertain water, I come into a peaceful knowing, a faithful wisdom that surpasses control and certainty.

Intelligence is not knowing and being aware of all that goes around in the world. That is being knowledgeable, intelligence is about being able to understand life, analyze situations that provide for a better and much more productive life.

Life is uncertain that the goal is not to become more certain about anything but to relax more into the mystery of not knowing what will come next- God’s word for me is a faithful wisdom that surpasses control and certainty.

Regard everyday events as messages about reality. Trust in those messages, don’t fight reality. Don’t defend against it. Read it like you would a newspaper. Read everything that happens to you and to others as pertinent news about the reality of being human, of being you. For every action we take, reality leaves little messages about its wisdom or folly.

Hafiz:

Not the God of Names

Nor the God of don’ts,

Nor the God who ever does anything weird, 

But the God who only knows

Four words and keeps repeating them

Saying: “come dance with me.”

The dancing God is always with us, but often it takes a calamity to make room for him at the table :) 

It is not ideas that change the world, but simple gestures of love given to the people around you and often to those you feel most at odds with. He said that in order to save the world you must serve the people in your life. You struggle less and less for an idea and more and more for specific people. In the end, it is the reality of personal relationship that saves everything ~ Thomas Merton

A cure cannot always be found but it is possible...

Fame and fortune: I know that fame and fortune cannot alter the inner landscape of a human heart.

Unnecessary change turns through the wheel of life, and so reality is shown in all its many forms. A seeker is one who renounces home and family to wander about, living on what he begs. Avoiding pleasure he subdues the passion; mediating he controls the mind. And so he strives for freedom from this world of tears and the endless round of rebirths.

Whatever is happening, whatever is changing, whatever is going or not going according to my plans I release my hold on all of it. I leave behind who I think I am, who I want to be, what I want the world to be. I come home to the great peace of the present moment, to the wide – open wonder of myGod like nature

Therapy aims to do: To return our souls to our bodies, to return ourselves to ourselves and this to overcome the human state of self-alienation. A life lived in order to please others ends up pleasing no one at all.

In order to change habits and attitudes garnered over a lifetime, we must want something more than the eggs. We must long for the truth, we must pay attention to the voice that calls us out of the safety zone, we must be willing to lose what stands in the way of the true self – we must give up the eggs (inspired by Woody Allen)

Man: Doc, my brother’s crazy, He thinks he’s a chicken

Psychiatrist: well, why don’t you turn him in?

Man: I would but I need the eggs

Life sends all sorts of foxes to raid the hen house and steal the eggs. Try to look at the problems that come your way as opportunities to give up illusions of myself and about life on the planet earth. (I don’t recommend courting drama and disaster so you can be open to the truth). Use anything- everything- as a wake-up call. You can find a treasure trove of information about yourself and the world in the big trials and the little annoyances of daily life. If you turn around and face yourself in times of loss and pain. You will be given the key to a more truthful and therefore more joyful life.

When things fall apart

Adversity is natural party of being human. It is the height of arrogance to prescribe a moral code or health regime or spiritual practice as an amulet to keep things from falling part. Things do fall apart. It’s their nature to do so. When we try to protect ourselves from the inevitability of change, we are not listening to the soul. We are listening to our fear of life and death, our lack of faith, our smaller egos will to prevail. To listen to the soul is to stop fighting with life - to stop fighting when things fall apart; when they don’t go our way, when we get sick, when we get betrayed or mistreated, or misunderstood. To listen to the soul is to slowdown, to feel deeply, to see ourselves clearly, to surrender to discomfort and uncertainty and to wait.

It is in times of brokenness that the soul sings it’s most wise and eternal song. Each person’s soul has its own cadence. You will recognize its music by the way you feel when you are listening; awake, calm, and suddenly relieved of the burden of control, you will take a big breath, and you’ll sigh and say to yourself, “its okay. Everything’s okay”

Sometimes in moments of surrender you will see how much you get from staying stuck in the way you see yourself and other people, how much you have invested in making someone else wrong so that you don’t have to accept your own culpability; how you idolize others so that you don’t have to claim your own power. Take a stand; be you’re most noble and radiant self.

You may know something true about yourself but protect the hen house nonetheless. It’s when you let the fox steal the eggs that you’re left with the truth of who you really are. And who you really are is worth so much more than those imaginary eggs.

Drum sounds rise on the air and with them, my heart. A voice inside the beat says I know you are tired, but come. This is the way. – Rumi

Over and over we are broken on the shore of life, Our stubborn egos are knocked around, and our frightened hearts are broken open not, once, and not in predictable patterns, but in surprising ways and for as long as we live. The promise of being broken and the possibility of being opened are written into the contract of human life. Certainly this tumultuous journey on the waves can be tiresome. When the sea is rough, we may want to give up hope and give into despair wary on (mine)

When you are...

May you listen to the voice within the beat even when you are tired,

When you feel yourself breaking down, may you break open instead,

May every experience in life be a door that opens your heart, 

expands your understanding and leads you to freedom.

If you are weary, may you be aroused by passion and purpose. 

If you are blameful and bitter, 

may you be sweetened by hope and humor, 

If you are frightened, 

may you be emboldened by a big consciousness far wiser than your fear. 

If you are lonely, may you find love, may you find friendship,

If you are lost, may you understand that we are all lost, 

and still we are guided – by strange Angels and sleeping giants, 

by our better and kinder natures, 

by the vibrant voice within the beat,

May you follow that voice for this is the way

The hero’s journey, the life worth living, the reason we are here. 

~ Elizabeth

Everything can change in a moment; we have little control over the outer weather patterns as we make our way through the landscape of life. But we can become masters of the inner landscape. We can use what happens on the outside to change the way we function on the inside. (The reward is true self, the awakened consciousness) 

John Campbell ~ what all myths have to deal with is transformation of consciousness. You have been thinking one way; you now have to think a different way. Consciousness is transformed wither by the trials themselves or by illuminating revelations. Trials and revelations are what it’s all abou. 

When we have been through trials and discomfort (mine) and survived, better still, transformed its terrors into revelations – then we begin to approach other adversities with a different attitude. Change and loss may still break us off the horse, but soon we are back in the saddle, stronger and wiser than ever. As life progresses and we continue to transform and refine our consciousness, we have more insight and humility, greater strength of character and deeper faith in the meaninglessness of life.

Brokenness leads to openness, descent to rebirth, fire to phoenix- difficult journeys are best taken in a sturdy circle, or at least with trusty guide and a helpful toolbox.

At critical times in life, find things / practices to push you to take responsibility for your own happiness- stop waiting for the elusive someone or something to mind and define my life. Prayers give solace and strength. It is a reassuring companion on the road. Prayer, meditation, therapy can teach one to transmute pain into growth.

Patience

Patience is a hard discipline. It is not just waiting until something happens over which we have no control: the arrival of the bus, the end of the rain, the return of a friend, the resolution of a conflict. Patience is not waiting....

The day after my birthday, A Story, The Train trip

2nd July 2010
We did have a lovely birthday, Stella’s hubby surprised us with a cake, cookies and cards, we both thought it was very thoughtful of him. Arthur called to wish me happy birthday and my siblings all left messages on my Facebook, my parents sang for me on phone. They always make me smile. For some reason I was hurt that Ida forgot and sent me a message yesterday.


Been very emotional lately, I guess it’s all the pending hurt.

My writers Mind
Max came to visit with May and Mach his brother. We had a long chat and then May had to get home in some kind of frenzy, I could not let her go and so decided to hang onto her until she broke down and started to push me away, Is till did not let go. For one I have been there and having someone be there for me was the best thing that ever happened. I am adamant that people always need others at times when there is crisis. I kind of believe that going through a crisis on one’s own creates a kind of independence which is not bad in itself but it creates a negative attitude towards others. We fail to see others as human beings with failings, and we start to accuse them of what they have done and sometimes label others. Yet if we are able to get a different perspective during our time of crisis that may point us to the fact that people even though abusive and callous make mistakes, we may be able to understand grace in a much better way than we do. I must confess that having people walk through life’s trials with me has helped me look at people with eyes of compassion and grace even when I find that all I want to do is judge and label them. I am much appreciative of the help. So Max and I take May home. When she says good bye, she tells me “thank you so much, you have made a difference. Thank you for being there.” I can only smile, I like this. For a long time I have wanted to be able to say less and smile more. And for once I have been able to master myself in such a situation. I am getting there! We start to drive away and she starts to walk away from the direction of home. At this point its 10:20pm and I alert Max of what May is doing. He says he has to talk to her because she can pull stunts.

He gets out of the car and starts to walk after her, when he gets back it’s over an hour and half and I have been fried in the car, all alone in the dark, with the gas running, opposite an Eritrean community center with Eritrean boys looking like druggies and rogues. I am kind relaxed as I am aware that God is watching over me, When they stop by the car, I get out to find out what is happening and May decides to take me on another stroll with Max walking slowly behind us, she shares her heart vaguely. My head is hurting from the night cold air and am praying without knowledge about the situation, it’s almost 1 am and I have no idea, I share my life vaguely and May says, ‘sadfa’ a Swahili phrase that defines coincidence. I think maybe she understands that it’s not only her that has been through this life and it’s not as if it’s only her who lives in a house instead of a home. She starts to smile and relax; knowing she has to make a decision and move into the house whatever it takes. We finally walk to her door and I offer to come in with her, she tells me; ‘You coming will make things better for me, so I would rather you stay because life is not better, its harsh and I would rather it stays that way.’ I hold back Max agrees it’s not wise to do that as she has to be able to face the situation – so he implies. Anyway we head back home, Max is unusually quiet, not that I have known him for so long to know that he is thinking. He explains to me what May situation is, it does not make sense to me and I ask him whether it does make sense to him. He says, ‘yes it does.’ I smile and let it go. We drive home as he talks, I can’t quite remember what we were talking about, I remember though that we talk about his mother coming and him driving to Texas and coming by Montana to visit me. He says he will find time to come over. I smile and my heart is glad.

We get home and it’s almost 2am. Sibella and Mach are mad! They throw their beef at us for not calling and letting them know that we are okay, as we have been away for hours. For some reason they think I went away with Maxwell to Revere- where Max lives. We ask Mach to take a sit as he was on his way to find us, we try to explain that we took time with May, none of them believe us, they think we are inseparable and we decided to just go spend time together. Mach is mad at Max his brother for creating panic. We apologize and I ask Mach to lend me a CD that was playing in his car, while Max insists on reading my journal for the sole reason that he wants to see what I wrote about May and him. He has been begging me since 10pm. I give him a paragraph to read and we walk out to the parking lot to get the CD after Mach insists that I walk there with them and he would walk me back, I accept and when I get the CD, he wants to walk me back, Max insists he will drop me and Mach defends my presence in the parking lot by saying he had decided to walk me back. I am caught in between and all I want to do is spend a few more minutes with Max. Mach goes on to ask me the worst question anyone could ask, ‘So Orah,do you want to be walked back or dropped?” And my emotions take over, I answer “Dropped”. And Max drops me, he drives me to the main entrance and we linger saying goodbye, he gives the sweetest, most passionate hug I have had in a long time. I want to stay in his arms but we have to part. Oh life. Mach is riding his bike behind Max and I wave goodnight and it’s only when I narrate the situation to Stella that she tells me how bad I was. I should have let Mach walk me, and I start to feel horrible. Even as I write I realize that I should have just let Mach walk me, but I wanted to be with Max, we are so alike, we are comfortable with each other and we enjoy each other’s company. This was yesterday.

We had another conversation on race issues on the way to Chinese birthday dinner as we headed to an all-White place, when we got to the restaurant the lady did not lead us to a table, she said, “Can I help you?’ the implication was that we were lost and might need directions, at this point Sibella was raving, she asks the lady if they still have a lunch buffer. She leads us to a table and the waiter takes a bother 30 minutes to take our order. Oh the things we have to face for the skin we wear! When he finally comes to take our order he is looking outside the window acting like we are not worth much attention. Chuck tries to calm Sibella down, telling us to ignore racism as one day it will change no matter how many years it takes. We try to calm down and discuss slavery and experiences of racism we have faced.

We drive to another Chinese place to get pork, for dinner and for the trip today. Sibella and Chuck need to stop at a salon to visit with a couple close to them who ran the salon, Am amazed when I notice the name of the salon, it’s called “Kampala Beauty Salon’. Am told Waltham is practically Kampala. The number of Ugandans there is astounding and you can hear luganda being spoken on the streets. We discuss Ugandan Politics in the car and Sibella is adamant that she could never die for Uganda, Chuck believes he can. I concur with Sibella silently; I don’t believe I am nationalistic. I am not one to believe in nation states. It may come across as a sad thing but I think its Baganda peoplethat are generally much more nationalistic than the rest of the population. I like to think of myself as African and a citizen of the world. This way I can believe in Africa and its progress, I like to think of Africa without borders and a place where we are all one no matter what language we speak. In many ways I believe the moment we can see Africa without borders then we can fight the wars, racism and poverty in Africa with a much better perspective.
Sibella escorts me to the train station; I panic and think I will miss the train. But I do not. She has been ever so kind. I miss Art so much and refused to say goodbye, I can’t take goodbyes, I love them dearly and am glad I visited. I am so glad I got to know my friends better and that they were able to have me even when it was so hard for me to be there. I cried a lot last night and needed to let it out. I am much emotional for some reason. To be continued....


Its almost over, Am doing the last few hours of my journey across America. I am excited that I actually did it and there is nothing to worry about like everyone was worried when I decided to take this trip. In New York, a Canadian lady sat next to me, she started right away about how she was so excited about the retreat she was from. In a few minutes I heard her life story and the reason for the train trip, which was basically to spend time a Yoga retreat center that is amazing and that Dr. Phil’s wife had gone to attend as well. I wanted quiet, but there is something about a Ugandan, we have to be polite no matter the circumstance. Where the heck did this come from! Anyway I bore two hours of talk her life and asked a few question leading her on- just to show I was interested. I guess I would have been, but I was awfully tired. I just needed to be quiet, this is why I took the train trip; right? I decided to sleep off after a while and then she got off at Buffalo welcoming the quiet. Chicago was where I had to change training and had a five hour layover. That went well because there was internet at the station and so much kavuyo. The craze of people traveling made me wonder how people can be on the move every single day; we are many restless hearts and travelers. My first time to come close to Amish people, there were heaps of them. Families. youth and elderly people. They dress in a unique way and it’s an evidently defined family structure.

I am glad to be doing this because I have gotten to see so much and think and as well. Being in Minnesota did not bother me, it felt like there is something I have to do and for that I am grateful. I am glad that I could do this. North Dakota is plain fields, reminds me of Teso. Flat ground with telephone poles stretching across the land. It even has loads of swampy areas and farmlands. Driving across the farmlands of America makes me want to buy a combine harvester for my parents, maybe then they can be able to greatly improve their farming. I want mother to sell every single thing she grows and not buy other people. Am not sure I like talking about myself, every time I do it feels like my life is exotic and for some reason I don’t like hearing the wows! Cause it’s not that wowy, right? I am just living and I end up on the road most of the time which makes me such a nomad seeing as it’s not as if it’s not my doing or desire.

Some old man started chatting with me at the sight seeing lounge he told me so many stories of his experiences with God, I was amazed and some of it I just needed to hear. To learn to trust God rather than worry about the things that happens in my life. I am glad I chatted with him. Some African American lady came and tapped me as she and many others had realized that I had talked with him for so long, she said to me, “ You are good!” as if to say how could I stay talking to him for that long. Never seen Amish people in my life but on TV, today there are so many on the train and there were plenty of them in Chicago as well. I asked some Amish boys that were sitting next to me at the sight seeing lounge to help me look after my stuff because I need to go to the restroom. They graciously did. They are such smiley boys- they appear to me as guys who are hoping to get out of the life they are living; there is something about them that sings, am happy to be out!

Before the old man there was this pharmacist that talked to me for over an hour, he was quite interesting, he came to chat and said he had seen me go get some coffee and he went to do the same. Anyway he barely knew anything about Africa, but he tried I must say. Both guys who talked to me today both mentioned Idi Amin Dada, maybe I should start saying I come from some strange tiny country in Africa like Swaziland and see if anyone really does know anything about it. Am weary of hearing Idi Amin.

It’s almost over, I am waiting a few minutes before my stop, am smelling cake and coffee around me, I think most of the people on the train are waking up just about now. I could do this trip again; I can’t wait to do it with Milton. Am sure we shall enjoy it!

Missed the bus, wanderers

12th June 2010 We missed the bus today and landed on Edward Christian’s church by mistake in downtown Northampton. It was an interesting atmosphere with so much emotion thrown around, I think that when a church focuses on the fact that they embrace all people, whatever sexual orientation, it continually starts to remind itself that that is what it’s supposed to do. I kind of feel like,( correct me if I am wrong) that with time, the focus is taken away from God and it becomes more emotional than anything. It was a pretty good service, I had not realized how so much had been changed in the Anglican Church, and there is now a new creed, new words to old hymns. I understand that they may be better understood yet there is something about the original words that give depth to the hymns. I miss the old creed and the old words to the song, great is they faithfulness. Last night we took a walk in the town, it was dark and drizzly, enjoyed window shopping and laughing ourselves silly over laughable things. It’s the first pace in America I have been to where there are so many cross dressers.

Its this pain

5th May 2010 I have a bad taste in my mouth, my heart sears, it pains and it hurts more than I can express. But it’s not that kind of pain that makes you want to yell, it’s the silent pain, that makes you want to hold yourself so tight and squeeze until you can’t feel anymore, It’s the pain that makes you want to run into some wild dream, but the reality of the pain you can’t escape. No, it’s too evident, too alive, am too aware of it. I see his face right in front of me and I want to cry, but oh, am so weary of tears.

My Almost Lover

I met him in the weirdest way, his friend was talking to me  as he stood silently behind him, shy? Why was he in the shadow? When he saw me look his way he came out from behind the shadows, smiled  his eyes were adorable, the color of dark brown olives. He had a faraway look, as though he was thinking of getting somewhere far I thought? Maybe not, maybe it was I that was fantasizing.

All this time my friend was telling me something that I can’t quite remember. We were staring at each other and here I was thinking I was shy. Na ah! Not when I saw my almost lover, he was of Nubian descent, there were traces of Arab blood in his dark skin, his hair was a mix of silk and  Kinky, that made you want to pass your fingers right through. And he was staring at me, this creature with adorable eyes that told me he was attracted to me. And I, having learned to read eyes, since I begun to be bold enough to look into them, I am overwhelmed by this liking I am feeling.

So I smile and gather myself with much needed female modesty. At this point I think I have given up too much, but with the modesty am able to gather up I mention a few intelligible comments to the discussion, one half of me is pleased, the other half of is beating myself for giving too much away.

I pretend I feel nothing, changing the subject to a more political one where emotions are placed on a more abstract concept compared to this humanness that makes my knees weak. He smiles and joins in with much more passion than I expected from him. And he is indeed good at politics, he follows politics and analyzes it so deeply that I start wishing it is my body he is analyzing and pouring his passion over. There again, I have lost it, I have a weak will. I have to go, to forget him. That’s how I manage to deal with this humanness; I run from it and tell myself it’s not for me. I mumble some flimsy excuse and am out, no one can really stop me, am walking away hoping he will come after me and tell me to stay, or have coffee with him, Ethiopian coffee I imagine…. With groundnuts roasted in salt, just like an evening coffee hour in Sudan. He does not come after me sadly. So I walk on, sing to myself and tell me that life is still good.

He calls me the next day, and I am overjoyed, he got my number from my friend he says. He wants to see me, I tell him am busy with a mass of work and am actually doing nothing. The weakness in me is what I can’t handle, I don’t want to meet him and yet I do. I want to see those eyes again, to hear his voice the Arabic accent in those few English words he speaks and I still say no. He suggests another day and I say yes. I smile all through the day and still do nothing but watch a movie and try to write more papers.

After five days of work, school and a crazy wave of fantasy he calls again, to find out how less busy I am. I say I can meet him on Monday as my friends and I are going to a Sudanese concert and it would be great if he came. We are to meet at 7.45pm, I get there five minutes late with two of my girlfriends, and he is smoking a cigarette, “aaww sexy!” I don’t smoke but when an attractive man smokes it sure does look sexy- adding to the spice, ‘oh tobacco! I uphold thee’. He is waiting patiently, his lips are like berries, and I want to taste- no, focus!

We sit together at the concert my friends all beside me and him on my right side, he talks to me about politics again, am certain it’s a passionate topic for him, and then music, he loves jazz, classical and Tupac’s hip hop, all those I love. And then he tells me about books he loves, Charles Dickens and Jane Austen are what I can pick up- At this point I am going to grab and hug him. I want to, he loves Jane Austen!? Am wondering how anyone who does not speak English well, knows about Jane Austen, but maybe there is an Arabic version. Then he says, Jane Austen is girlish, and he smiles… I see he does not mean it, he wants me to argue when I start he laughs and his eyes say more things, they say “ I want to hear you talk, I want to kiss you’ and we are this close to each other’s breath. As close as when brushing each other’s lips would be the climax of my day, but I have surprising self control. I, even I am amazed. I hold back and tell him I will talk more when the concert ends. I want to hold his hand and I want him to hold mine. My almost lover is next to me and all I can do is hold back? Am I damaged?

The concert comes to end, he wants to know when he will see me again, I murmur unintelligible sounds, and he says, “I will call you.’ And we squash into this Cairo taxi with two guys at the front and three ladies at the back. My almost lover is quiet and has his head turned towards me at the back, he is staring at me attentive to all I am saying or doing. The other guy at the front starts to tell the driver, that one of my friends is Turkish and she is single, he gets so excited and says he wants to marry her. Then he looks at me and says “American?” I say “la ah” he says “Sudan”, classic one – black people in Egypt can only be either American or Sudanese- not really actually, sometimes I am from Burkina Faso, other times Nigerian. When the African Cup of nations is in session, I am one of the countries that Egypt is playing, it kind of enlightens one on the ignorance of Egyptians about a continent they are a part from. The one I have failed to comprehend is the fact that I am asked, 'Are you from Africa?" Please remind me where I am again? is all I wish I had time to say.
So I nod, saying , “Ayiwa, Sudanese”. This completely indecisive Cairene late night driver, changes his mind and says he prefers to marry the Sudanese. His defense is that at one time Egypt and Sudan were one country, and he would like to contribute to bringing history back. Interesting explanation I must say, and how is that going to bring the country back together with Sudan?

This play on unity and togetherness is  not helping; I think to myself, my almost lover is half Sudanese and half Egyptian and that has still kept the countries apart. Anyway Onyango-Obbo once said, "History has often been made in the bed.'- okay my mind is taking simple dimensions and making them even simpler,peeking my head from this monologue, I very quickly mouth my useful phrase, “I am married, m3lesh” he pouts for a few seconds and then decides he prefers the lady on my right, who we say is from Zimbabwe. We tell him she is married and he pouts again, then returns to the “Turkish one”. While all this is going on my almost lover is quiet and smiling watching me , am aware of his eyes on me, its not uncomfortable, in fact I like it, it’s the look every woman would need once in a while, its not lust,its one of those that say , I don’t want to look away just in case you need anything. Gosh! Am such a dreamer!

At Tahrir we have to make this crossing and it’s the hour when Cairenes all decide to drive through Tahrir at the same time. He holds my hand and takes me through the highway with such Cairene ease and my heart blesses him. When he says goodnight, I want a hug, a peek, something to go away with, some thing more than just his breathe. I want to feel, and my humanness starts to make trips. I shake his hand like a good English modest woman would and master all I can to leave the goodbye spot. Then I lose it, turn around and ask him to walk me home, he smiles and starts to walk me home, I change my mind and tell him its okay, I will make it home. I don’t want him to get ideas in his head about walking me home. I insist and he turns back, says goodnight one last time and off goes my almost lover.