1992-1996

We stayed in the two-storied yellow pealing house with the rock on the roof for

Four years of memories

Four years of make-belief

Four years of cuddling tight on winter nights

Four years of water fights

and daisy chains

Four years of pets

dogs

monkey

rabbits

chickens

Four years of friends

Four years of childish fears

and the knowledge solidified in my small mind

that I was protected from;

 

Fire.

Something unsettled in the night

crackling sounds

smoke

hungry flames and tasty trees

our little family stood huddled on the roof at the end of it all

my heart beating wild beats

Dad was safety, Mom was comfort

Sisters cuddled in one bed

Sleep came soundly

No harm will befall me

 

Leopards.

Loud paws on our roof

thump

Our dogs were in danger

but survived

until later

No harm will befall me

 

Drunken men

Up and down our street

they sung that loud way they do

to be heard through our windows

not knowing the fear they inspired

No harm will befall me

 

Snakes.

Shouts in the night from our rooftop neighbors

Saap Saap!

Two huge snakes waiting

Dad with an axe and a walking stick

Decapitated snakes still slithering

No harm will befall me

 

Holy men.

Wild hair

breaking brown teeth

orange fabric tied around parts of their emaciated bodies

Their search made me nervous

because they stopped at nothing

to get freedom

What if I was what they needed

to be free?

No harm will befall me

 

It was in the two-storied yellow pealing house

that my chubby hands secretly picked

bit after bit of paint

off the walls

in the semi-darkness

and at the same time

some unseen presence

pealed off the fear

from the walls of my heart

and whispered quietly

into my ear

No harm will befall you

No harm will befall you

No harm

Will

Befall

You

1991

A move to a future

I had no hold on

In my blinking, blurry eye sight

I saw a newness I had not beheld

in all my tiny years

I saw the rust and brown and dust

of a city

I saw children like me

begging for food

What world was this that

lets it’s children starve?

I clung tight to the hand at the level of my eyes

this hand brought me here

to look after me

I looked

to my sister

whose eyes were wide

taking in the surroundings

like a cold drink

The dust clung to our sweating faces

We were small and white

in this sea of unknown

I could feel my mother’s mind

ticking through the pulse of her wrist

clinging tightly to her children,

we were all saying softly with our tired eyes

‘take me home’

and my father’s steady gaze

burning bright holes

into the uncertainty said,

‘We are home.’

1995

It was in the age of growth

where all around

contributes

to making you small

or big

or sensitive

or proud

that we sat around

and drank weird concoctions from our village friends

like chicken feet

in yummy broth

It was in the fear of falling

that i learnt to fly

It was in the age of a range of emotions

that I would pick my favorite one

and let it ride

on the backs of my words

sometimes I’d use them to hurt

mostly I’d just write songs

It was in those years

that the smell of firewood burning

imprinted on my senses

so that I am catapulted into

the times when I fit more snuggly in my small skin

whenever I smell fire

I breathe in so deeply

that my breath can take me back

It was a time of little money

and big heart

and squatting on the side of a jungle

so big

that it swallowed up my fears

money was just paper

to be given away

to those that needed a fire

that we could join them

squatting

hands out

eyes burning

happy tears.

 

The Art of Honesty

Hello world out there.

I’m in bed today with this never ending flu. My cough just doesn’t seem to want to go away and my body is aching all over. Fun fun. Anyways. It gives me time to write, so I won’t complain any more.

So Sean and I have been married all of 7 months. 7 is a good number I think. And because we had such an interesting engagement period of being apart and never had the chance to do any pre-marriage counseling, we decided now’s the time to get talking to a good couple who knows what they’re talking about when it comes to marriage.

So we’ve had three sessions with them so far, and man oh man it’s the BEST thing we could have ever ever done for our marriage. Most of all, I’ve learned, and I’m learning, the art of honesty. Truth is what we all crave, truth is so hard to live out.

So it got me thinking. Of all of our walls. And how high we build them around us. And how I hate it when people see me as something weak or fragile. I hate vulnerability. I squirm when I have to show people my heart and the yuckiness that’s in it. I’m always scared I’ll find out that I’m beyond hope, or that the problems I have are problems that NO one has ever had. I’m afraid of the raised eyebrows of disapproval. I hate that after-cry feeling of stupid. But oh how important it is to be honest, to wear a heart that has a few (or many) kinks in it, on your sleeve, for all to see.

I’m beginning to realise that I’m not alone in my faults and fears. I have a sneaky feeling that if we all took our hearts and put them sheepishly on a large table, one eye shut in fear of the gasps from our fellow humans, that we would be pleasantly surprised by the similarities. I think we’d all begin to unshut our eyes, slowly come out from behind our armor, and there would be a lot of hugging. This is what this blog is for me, it’s my cyber heart on a cyber sleeve.

So Sean and I are coming out of the walls we built in our years apart. We’re learning to say it before we keep it in. We’re learning that this is the BEST thing we can do for our marriage. Honesty. It’s a naked thing, all flaws exposed, all scars and marks and flab and wrinkle. All giving up trying to hide your bad angles.

So I vow with all my humanity, to feed you truth. Feed it to you, because I owe it to you to be honest. And if you would do the same. Drop your guards just that little bit, and give people some of your honesty, to show them that they’re not alone. And maybe we’ll become this big daisy chain of people who don’t see fault, or flaw, or flab, but who stand for something real and raw. Maybe this truth thing is catchy. Let’s see eh?