Dim Zim

A few months ago I heard someone asking what would happen to the world if suddenly there was not more electricity? ....

Well you wouldn't be reading this. Most phones in this country are plugged in to an electrical supply. Battery charge would die. Cooking would be difficult. Shopping would not be shopping, the tills wouldn't operate. Wandering around in a Tesco lit with midnight darkness could also be fun ... I'd hide out in the ice-cream fridge ... not that it would be cold. Factories and offices would be rendered useless. So would traffic lights. And so on.

Our family friends in who are still living in Zimbabwe are going into their 13th day without electricity and they are being told there might not be a supply for weeks to come. So it's back to the basics, cooking on a small gas stove, studying by candle light, smoke signals soon?

My gran has been in hospital for a few weeks; it's crazy payments per night to stay there and somehow they've accidently administered to her the wrong antibiotics, causing an allergic reaction. We found out today that the nurses are working for an agency ... basically the Manager of the agency found them walking the streets, said 'Wanna job?' and now they're nursing.

How, in hell, does this happen to a country????

A new today

One day into life in Newbury and it feels like I'm in a washing machine.

One minute my heart is sinking at the realisation of the size of this place.

Next minute I hear my name being called out and it's an old friend from Zimbabwe, Dean Clayton, who's just escaped the rush of London and moved here for some quietness.

Then I walk on and think about how small this place is and wander how small-minded it could possibly be.

After that a rainbow radiates over the canal and it looks like heaven.

I think of Edinburgh, the Scots and how much I like it there ... so what am I doing in England of all places!?!?

Soon afterwards my mom cracks a joke and I feel right at home again.

Rough waters, I remember feeling this exactly way on my first day in Cape Town and I recall emailing my old boyfriend from Zimbabwe to tell him about it. And today, after 3 years of no contact with Don, I receive an email from him out of the blue.

Oh my! Party poppers just popped! Fireworks just cracked! The world errupted and cheered, as I just reached the proud age of 25!

Anyways, as my birthday present to you, I'll share with you a wonderful piece of words by Tom Robbins. Ofcourse I secretly, or not so secretly anymore, wish the words were describing me but not this time ....

If she's some kind of phosphorescent flake, some kooky angel circling the ethers in deep left field; whether she won the eccentricity competition in the Miss California pageant or was that actually in Istanbul at the time, none of that matters to those of us who love her. Give us half a chance and we'd lick hot fudge from her fingers, spank her with a ballet slipper, read aloud to her the sacred moon poems of Kalahari bushmen. What's more, we like the way she dresses.

PS, being 25 is not turning me into a desperate housewife, moreso a teenager again.

BitterSweet!

Oh god! It’s 3.30am and I'm kinda drunk, I had a birthday/farewell party and now I don’t want to leave Edinburgh. Up until this afternoon I was fine … this morning my friend and I remembered the anniversary of his father passing away, we stood out the flat where his father grew up, leaning against a discarded mattress trying to think of what it would have been like there 60 years ago. I wandered what it would be like in 60 years time from then. This afternoon, I went into this Polish deli on Leith walk where everyone was so friendly, they gave me free food and wine, great chat and sold me cheap beers. Tonight I had fun, we told each other stories. Then when everyone left … I realised that a big part of me wants to stick around and I want to get stranded again on Crammond island again with Calum, go out for coffee with Natalia and discuss emotions, talk more lens with Phil whilst walking around the city's canals, laugh with Annalee at things that most people wouldn‘t find funny, go break-dancing with Giulia and silly-dancing with Captain Rory, and so much more. Oh. This sucks. Life is strange.

People have asked me recently if I'm getting bored not working at the moment, hell no! I have too much imagination for that. Others have commented about the ease that Marc and I are getting up and moving somewhere new ... it's not easy, I will leave a part of me in Edinburgh forever, but life is fluid and it changes all the time. One has to follow their heart and allow themselves to grow and enjoy the journey, to appreciate things for what they are. I know I can no longer stay in Edinburgh, my time is up here, everything tells me so … I’m on autopilot and there haven't been choices to be make, they’ve all been made for me. But this time is harder than the last. Life is such a funny adventure.

(PS, It's now the day after the night before and, yes, my head does hurt a bit.)

Ying and Yang

There is always an element of balance in life, maybe sometimes it’s going to one extreme and then the other to end on the middle note, or it’s weighing scale balance.

My daily life has changed dramatically lately, it’s blissful at the moment, holidays always are! Spending days in the sunshine cycling along coastlines, plenty time with friends, lots of photography, art galleries, and so on. There are moments when I feel my smile is going to break because it’s not big enough to express the happiness I am enjoying.

Though now my fears have transferred themselves to a different area of my life – my sleep. Zimbabwean nightmares. Very intense and should-be scary dreams but instead they have a deep element of sadness to them. The other night I woke up in tears when I should have been scared but, as weird as it is, they are not scary.

Last night, I was at an airport and sitting on a plane waiting for take-off but I had to rush off to get something so I ran there, got whatever it was then sprinted back to the aeroplane just to see it take off into the sunset. My parents were on the plane and they were going on holiday with my aunt and uncle for a few months. After that I was on a train with one of my mother’s friends, Peggy Parks, and Kathleen who’s a colleague of mine from my recent job. It was a Zimbabwean sleeper train and we were sitting on the ledge by the window chatting and watching the countryside slide by. Night fell fast and with that the soldiers made their entrance. All armed with AK47s they seemed to base themselves mainly in the carriage up from us, shooting out the window at the crowds of people who, with a theory of chaos, had been chased out of their homes and stood there nervous and fearful. There were soldiers scrambling about setting things to fire whilst flashes of gunfire littered the air. It seemed like a game to the soldiers and their cheers were extra loud and evil each time they shot a dog, maybe it was because it proved their target practise was paying off. I recognised people from the crowd, a family who used to live a block away from us, but felt so helpless. Next thing someone behind me placed the end of a gun on the nape of my neck. Bang. Bang. Bang. It wasn’t bullets but some sort of staples tipped with poison. I woke up after that.

Anyways it’s daytime now and once again the summer sun is shining!

Congrats to the newly wed Mr and Mrs Anthony Garden! My thoughts and heart are with you today and Saturday!