guest post

Last night I fell asleep on the couch. I was woken up briefly to have a look at this art. I appreciated it, but I was tired all the same. This email from Steve greeted me this morning, I thought I should share it.

So Felix was like, "Daddy I wanna draw you." And I was thinking, "that's a bit advanced for a three year old, what have they been teaching him at school?

" Then he was like "But I can't daddy, I don't know how."

I told him he could do anything if he tried, etc, but he kept saying he couldn't

So I said "well, don't worry Felix just draw anything.

" Then he said "Okay" and started drawing, he drew what looked like a head outline and said, "Okay daddy's head." I looked at it from the couch and true enough there was a head outline.

So I said, "Wow Felix that's incredible, now what about giving daddy some eyes, so he said, "Okay" and drew eyes (well okay, he drew three).

I was thrilled, "Now what about a mouth for daddy, Felix?" Sure enough he drew a mouth.

And I was like, "That's unbelievable Felix, now what about daddy's nose?" Bang! Felix drew a nose.

I grabbed him and kissed him and said what a wonderful child he was, then he said "No wait Daddy I need to give you sharps". I was like "it's okay Felix let's pretend that daddy shaved today, we don't need to draw the sharps."

So he said, "Okay daddy but I have to draw your ears" those are the little squiggles on either side.

Well I was so proud of Felix that I wanted him to sign the work so I asked if he could write his name, and he giggled "No daddy" all sheepishly. So I started to write his name and he got all cross and said "but you're doing it daddy, that's mine."

I looked up and asked nobody in particular "What's the date today?", he said, "it's Wednesday daddy." And sure enough Wednesday it is.

Anyway, emails like this only come from proud fathers, so I hope the pic doesn't disappoint, but I'm blown away by it, it was drawn entirely by Felix, unassisted, I mean the kid is THREE!

fears

I still live in NE Ohio. I've got no doubts about where I am geographically to be sure, but I still live in NE Ohio. This is easily evidenced by the fact that every day I download a half hour of NE Ohio news broadcast from Kent State's radio and listen to it either on my drive to work or my drive home from work. I know more about what is going on there with regards to politics, arts and culture, you name it. Plus when I am at work, I eagerly anticipate the rising sun in Cleveland - cause it means I get to hear whats going on in the social scene that I am missing as well.

On the other hand, I am loving life over here. I love my house run like a ship right now and now that school is done, things run so smoothly. Plus, I love my artists and my boss (its about time I supplied you with a name - Bethea). The other day when I decided I wanted to wear false eyelashes because the heavy eyeliner look would be vastly improved by having long lashes - one of our makeup artists put them on. Do you know what Bethea said? She asked if I'd ever worn false eyelashes before, told me to follow the makeup artist's instructions as to when to close and when to open my eyes and then she gave me instructions on taking them off. And then she proceeded to answer the phones as I had them applied. Then I found a picture of the look I was going for online. You see, the heavy eyeliner, dark look is actually the Keira Knightly look, which is in stark contrast to the other look I have been striving for - Jane Smith - not Angelina Jolie, but her character. I just like the clean smooth lines. But thats not the point, the point is that then I proceeded to have my hair done. It was the middle of the day folks, my boss should have been telling me to get to work, not how great I looked. And I have to add, its not like Bethea is some middle manager, she owns the company.

But back to NE Ohio, on the false eyelashes day, on my way home I thought about Gravity Hill. Can you believe it, Gravity Hill? Where did that come from? Then I started driving through Kirtland and Mentor in my head. Everything looked clear and consistent in my head, but its kind of strange cause some of the things I saw were from specific periods that have already passed. Like a sign I saw on my way to vote a few years ago that read "Vote Your Conscience, Not Your Fears". Okay, that was more than a couple years ago - that was prior to W. being elected the first time. I listened to the sign, I voted Green, I contributed to the dividing of the left. It happens.

And then it happened, I turned to my closet to pick out something to wear for a play we were going to that evening. Not formal, but not too casual. And then tragedy struck. Clearly that was the Jane Smith look, not the Keira Knightly look, but nothing was making me take off the eyelashes. Once I had regained the ability to open my eyes, I wasn't taking them off. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I couldn't find anything to wear. I was totally stumped. It was the first time that I had ever tried to match clothes with eye makeup, for sure, but I am so good with this suff normally. I tried this on, I tried that on, I really didn't like anything. I got confused and just decided on black pants, black shirt and a grey sweater. Highly unimaginative. The play, "Defending the Caveman" was great. Then I put a couple of rand down on roulette. I lost. But, I just couldn't bring myself to take off my eyelashes that night. So I slept on my back and was in the constant state of wanting to turn over and not letting myself.

I had just as much trouble getting dressed the next morning. What is clean that matches my eyelashes? And on my drive to work (listening to NE Ohio news) I was listening to the Green party candidate for Ohio governor speak. I was kind of irritated by this. I've been following the issues raised by Strickland v Blackwell. I've been trying, very hard to keep an open mind to both sides, though there is no doubt I am biased. And I still haven't mailed in my absentee voter registration, so there isn't much I can do about it anyhow. When Fitakis, the Green Party candidate says that for the first time in a long time, the lefties in Ohio are in a strong position to vote their hopes, not their fears. I looked around expecting to see South Mentor as I drove past. But all I could see was house after house with Joburg style 8 foot high walls (maybe these were the 10-12' variety, I was in Houghton at the time) topped with electric fencing and electric gates opening and closing while cars pulled out of them, some people blowing kisses out the window to their poor, trained to attack dogs were left to guard the fortress. (Mandela lives on that street, I don't know which one is his house, but I drive past it six days a week - but he doesn't drive, I've seen him at the pharmacy recently, he can barely walk.)

Vote your hopes, not your fears. I wonder what that means here. I shrugged my shoulders. I'm not tearing down our wall, its spikes or electric fence, I'm not getting rid of the guard dogs, I'm not driving around with my windows down and in lieu of that, its not like I can get on the next plane out of here. I shrugged again and tuned back into the the important political issues of NE Ohio. Maybe something unexpected will happen. Maybe something great will fall into my lap. I just hope its not one of my eyelashes. So maybe I should go back to the Jane Smith look. Its just one way to contextualize voting your hopes, not your fears.

two points

We have two little boys that come into our office every afternoon - Wallace and Mpho. They are about 10 years old. I have know their mom almost as long as I have been in this country. My boss has known their mom for a couple of decades. They used to live near our office, now they live near my boss. In any case, they are still enrolled in the school near my office, but there is no way for them to get home after school until their mom gets off work - so they hang out here for a couple hours.

Thats the background information. What has been happening lately though is that since last week these little brothers are fighting over which one of them gets to be my boyfriend. They keep demanding an answer, but what can I do? I don't want to damage their little self-esteems and its not like I can pick one. But today Wallace bumped himself up a couple points by giving me these divine letters. Of course they were passed through my boss and they've both been walking around covering their faces ever since, but they are too wonderful not to share.

dinosaurs

The strangest thing is happening to me right now - as I type. I have nothing to do. Seriously. This morning I had a study group at my house for our upcoming exam. It was a grueling but successful 5 or so hours. (And I think everyone appreciated the nibblies I made.) After they left, my housekeeper and I set to loading the dishwasher and tidying up. That was done fairly quickly. Everything was tidy and the kids were playing with Julia (who most of you haven't heard of yet - dunno why). I sat down to check my email. I had none. I sat on the couch with Oscar for a few minutes watching Mr & Mrs Smith (which is kind of like my anthem right now). He decided to go back to playing with the others. I decided I could start preparing dinner, which consisted of taking stirfry out of the freezer, putting it in the microwave to defrost it and then putting it in my oven. Then I set the table. Then, having nothing more to do while dinner did itself, Steve fixing his car, the kids playing with Julia, my house in complete order, I checked my email again. Still nothing. Not even crap subscription stuff. I walked into the kitchen again, checked on dinner and then stood there, looking blankly around me. I opened a beer.

I called my boss - to ask her if she has ever gotten to the point where she has nothing to do. She complimented my housekeeping and told me that she has never had a moment where everything is done. We talked about work for a few minutes. She suggested I go back to working on my book. I stood in the kitchen for a few more minutes. I randomly did some yoga stretches. I checked on the dinner. I gave Steve a five minute heads up. I stood around some more. I took dinner out of the oven. I called everyone to the table. I served dinner. When everyone was finished, I finished clearing the table. I washed the dishes. I put them away. I wiped off the table. I played a little game with the kids. I'm not sure how it started, but the general rules were to catch imaginary dinosaurs as they were coming out of the floor and to run through the house screaming until we got to the door to throw them outside and then to run screaming through the house back to the boys' room where more invisible beasts were rising from the ground. They got worn out. I put on a movie for them. I checked my email. I walked through the house again to see if there was anything that needed to be done. I stood around for a few minutes.

In a little while I will give the kids a bath. Then I will get them ready for bed. We'll all sit quietly on the couch. Then I will put Oscar in bed. After that it is Felix's turn. And then what? I suppose I can check my email again. But since I will have none, that will take 30 seconds. It is all too strange and it isn't even 7pm. I'm even a little afraid to finish this blog. What will I do between now and bathtime? Check my email? I might have more luck pulling imaginary dinosaurs out of the floor. And with any luck, they'll destroy the floorboards so I have something to do besides check my email.

me, melanie and mitra

Last night we went out to our fancy schmancy dinner. Despite the cheese of corporate events, it was a nice evening. Of course, the only people we knew were the crew - Niqui-Beth's boyfriend (see models blog) was doing sound, one of our makeup artists, Leon was there body painting some performers and Steve knew a cameraman that was recording the event. And apart from them, the only people we spoke to were the couple sitting at our table and the astronomers who had set up telescopes on the lawn to look at the moon (partial eclipse last night) and Jupiter. So, it was a good thing that we didn't spend so much money on a suit and such. But Steve did buy a pair of shoes - dirt cheap shoes - he said he couldn't justify spending more. So we kept talking about his shoes: "how do you like my fancy Italian shoes?"

I had to recount the night that me, Melanie and Mitra went to the Mo & Me documentary the night Melanie got back from Italy. Melanie and I couldn't stop bitching about the Italians. A brief apology is necessary to any Italians reading this, but really the service and even politeness areas of your culture could learn a lesson from the South Africans even - and that is saying something... Meanwhile, I love the Germans, but my friend Sabine, who is German, can't stand them and loves the Italians. Truthfully, no one's opinions really matter that much. But Steve twigged on to the catch phrase "me, melanie and mitra" and said it sounded like a movie. I said it sounded like a blog title.

Problem is, I couldn't think of the blog to go with the title. But then I got home to an email from Mitra. She said she was listening to Simon & Garfunkel's Homeward Bound and realised its my anthem. I had to tell her that it was included on the airline radio last year when I went home and I felt the same way. She told me it was so much my anthem that I was REQUIRED to post the lyrics on my blog. So I have now managed to post a blog that incorporates Italians, Simon & Garfunkel, and me, Melanie and Mitra.

Without further ado:

Homeward Bound (4:22) P. Simon, 1966 Released on Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme (On the Australian release, this is the studio version.) I'm sittin' in the railway station Got a ticket for my destination, mmm On a tour of one night stands My suitcase and guitar in hand And every stop is neatly planned For a poet and a one-man band Homeward Bound, I wish I was Homeward Bound Home, where my thought's escaping Home, where my music's playing Home, where my love lies waiting Silently for me Every day's an endless stream Of cigarettes and magazines And each town looks the same to me The movies and the factories And every stranger's face I see Reminds me that I long to be Homeward Bound, I wish I was Homeward Bound Home, where my thought's escaping Home, where my music's playing Home, where my love lies waiting Silently for me Tonight I'll sing my songs again I'll play the game and pretend But all my words come back to me In shades of mediocrity Like emptiness in harmony I need someone to comfort me Homeward Bound, I wish I was Homeward Bound Home, where my thought's escaping Home, where my music's playing Home, where my love lies waiting Silently for me Homeward Bound, I wish I was Homeward Bound Home, where my thought's escaping Home, where my music's playing Home, where my love lies waiting Silently for me Silently for me

no shoes

Being broke while you have kids means that you have to give up a lot of things you would normally spend money on. For us, the first thing to go was clothes. Not that I was ever one of those people who spent a lot or spent often on clothes, although I think Steve was. I don't struggle with clothing issues the way a lot of people do. This has primarily been for two reasons: my wardrobe has limited colour in it and my closet runs like a business. It is organised to the letter. For a start, all of my clothes get fully done up - buttons it get buttoned, zippers get zipped, that sort of thing. And items only get put in the closet after being ironed and placed on hangers - facing in the same direction. The primary division is by colour - in this order: white, grey, black, cream/tan and for the first time: red. (Until recently, anything I owned of colour was placed out of distraction on shelves or in drawers.) After that you get sub-divisions within each category, as follows: pants, tank tops & sleeveless shirts, short sleeve shirts (with no buttons), short sleeve button-up shirts, long sleeve shirts, long sleeve button up shirts, sweaters, sweaters with buttons, suit jackets, skirts, and finally dresses. That pattern follows in each colour category. Things that get folded, also sit in stacks of colour. Its a business, but if I want a shirt, I know exactly where it is. If its not there, its not available to wear.

This particular system has been with me for over half my life as well, so it runs smoothly. This also means that I know if I need to buy something - which on the whole, has been a rare experience. Because my clothes get such good care and I can see where they are, I really don't need to replace often. So when I arrived and decided to stay in South Africa, this became a bit of a problem, because I brought carry-on luggage only. I had just enough for a holiday, with a wash in the middle. So then I had to borrow what I could, buy what I couldn't borrow and do without items I couldn't afford to buy. Then I got pregnant (BIG), and then I lost the weight to about 3 sizes bigger than normal, then I got pregnant (BIG) and then finally, finally, I was at a stage when it was time to work on building up my wardrobe again. Only, by that time, we had no money, so it has been a struggle. Although I think I may have finally reached the point, where I am covered for any event in any of the usual colours.

Steve on the other hand, has neither the closet run like Swiss trains, nor the weight fluctuations and travel that require wardrobe updates. Which is why he looked at me in dismay when the invitation for Thursday night's dinner said: formal/traditional (yeah, we live in Africa and no, no one shows up in loin cloths - only very bad prints). Suit jackets he has none. Nice pants: one pair, never been hemmed - which I think is cool, but doesn't work for an event with a formal dress code. He has a few joke ties - most of which I have appropriated as belts to suit the changes in my waistline. Nice shoes. You see, even if we have money, we have kids - and Steve's job reqires he goes out to film child miners in the mountains in DRC, not step into board rooms - what would he need formal shoes for? I have A dress I wear for this. Long, straight, black, backless and a high slit up the back. Sexy, stylish, works for everything except freezing cold weather. Done, I am sorted. Steve still has nothing to wear.

In a moment of insight, I call one of our stylists to see if maybe he can help me pull together a suit. Cause, yeah, we can't afford to buy Steve a proper suit right now, we can't even spend the money for fabric even if I was crazy enough to sew one up. Gareth, says, sure, with pleasure, come over - I've got stuff laying around, what size is he? The pleasure of having stylists around you. It makes all the difference some times. I sat down and watched the performance: try this jacket on - it fits fine, but the colour is off, and this one, nice, here try the pants, need to be tacked, but they will work, this shirt, no, this one?, maybe, here, try this one, not bad, put the jacket back on, good, good, and this tie? It was almost a comedy for me. When I wasn't busy rehanging, I sat back and just smiled at what was going on around me. When it was all settled, I was in such a good mood, I told him he could buy matching shoes (which he needs, otherwise, he could have just gone with this the un-hemmed pants). And I just kept smiling. It was kind of like watching my life as a movie. And of course I have decided to make friends with all of our stylists who work with ladies clothing, because, while I love my dress, you've all seen it before.

But our dinner is all sorted (except I think all of our makeup and hair people are working, which means I have to do it on my own) for the cost of a pair of shoes and dry cleaning and I am feeling a bit smug - see what I pulled off... However, we still have no money to buy clothes, which means that no matter how much care they have received, I am about to walk to a closet that is thread bare, if highly organised. And while I will find what I need for work today, I am kinda hoping my suit-high keeps me going until we have money. Which I am pretty sure it won't because, even if I have a sufficient number of black tank tops, my kids keep on growing. That means they need the clothes, and socks, and shoes, and jackets (yes it gets freaking cold here) and of course they need the food that keeps them growing, but that is another story.

habits

The Germans arrive today. Who and what you ask. I can't really say. I'm not even sure I have ever been told their names, but they are coming. Somehow a couple of film or something students have found Steve as they were planning their trip to SA. As he is not in Mogadishu right now (as he was supposed to be), he is going to help them navigate their way through to where they are staying. Up until I went to bed last night, this was not even an issue. Sure they aren't American, but they are short term-short distance friends. In other words strangers who need some assistance.

These people have always been my friends. In high school it was the exchange students. In between being the stranger myself after graduation, I had a steady stream of these people in my life. These are people I know are going to leave, but for some reason, I take the time anyhow. In fact, the most recent departure of a new American stranger damn near broke my heart. (Love you Mitra!) And still I persist. It might be because my mom taught me about tolerance without me even realising it (which she did). But I think now its more because I know what being the stranger is all about. And Jo'burg is a hard place to be a stranger in. Its big, its spread out and with the persistent cloud of fear everyone lives in, its hard to make friends when you don't even have a starting base. Look, I had that base, and I still struggle with a lack of friends. But then I end by missing my short term-short distance friends and feeling both enriched and empty - and I do it again. And this time around, it is the Germans.

Still, this was not a problem. Some habits are hard to break and I'm not even worried about this one. Last night, minutes before bed, Steve said, "are we inviting them over for dinner or going to the bowling club or what? Oh, and Roger will probably be with us..." This doesn't sould like an issue to anyone does it. The problem is this. I spent the whole of Saturday preparing and freezing meals for the next two weeks. I have a schedule. I even have the following two weeks planned out and the groceries ordered for that cooking spree. Deviations are allowed for, I never reheat fish dishes. So if we want to eat fish, it gets purchased that day, and the allocated meal gets pushed to another date. I rearrange my calendar and life moves on. Last night when the crisis struck, I was advocating for eating at home. This is due to the fact that we are poor and that Steve and I already have two commitments later this week, and the boys go all loopy when we are both out of the house in the evenings. Now I wonder if the cabbage rolls with a side of mashed baby new potatoes will be sufficient and tasty enough. I wonder if I should swop it out for something else.

And last night, I went to bed worrying that they might be vegetarian. What then? A last minute dash to the grocery store to prepare some tried and successful vegetarian dishes? But that would really screw up the system, because then, I will have extra of what is already ordered and less of things I haven't ordered because we still have plenty. Its a little dilemma, I'm sure, but nonetheless, it is my dilemma. And if good habits die hard, the bad ones NEVER seem to go away. And as female and topped off by being mother, I worry. You'll only notice, if you watch me long enough, but it is there. But I have to play this all by ear and sit at work, impotent to do anything, should they be vegetarians or not. Fortunately, my business direction skills seem to have refined themselves over the years and I can act in a crises situation (which this is not), so I'm hoping this will all go smoothly. And what for you ask. Because I keep putting myself out there to make friends I will have to say goodbye to sooner rather than later.

cookie

It came to my attention last night that one year ago I was in the States. Steve remembered not me. He said - "oh its Jazz on the Lake on Sunday. I took Felix last year." And by the way, for any one interested, there is no lake here. There is a place called Zoo Lake. Its a pond. Its not much bigger than my parents house if you were to take the top floor and the basement and line them up with the ground floor. Actually, for a pond it is reasonably sized, but it is not a lake. And I have, very specifically been teaching Felix the difference. Yes, Felix, its called Zoo Lake, but its a pond. Its not big enough to be a lake. A lake is big, like the sea. This could of course lead me into another discourse, as I have adopted the British use of the word sea and this could be problematic for some of you. But you have to pick your battles and I choose to distinguish between ponds and lakes and Steve and the boys can keep their sea. And in any case, the first time I spent more than a heartbeat at the "ocean" was a few weeks in Australia - where, I'm not sure any more, but maintaining the links it does to British English, may in fact have been called a "sea".

But all of this is negligible, compared to the fact that last year I was home. In fact, 1 year ago last night I landed in Cleveland. My dad fetched us from the airport and we stopped at Arby's on the way home. The Arby's tasted like my apartment in Kent - I could actually taste good times and sad. I think it almost tasted like watching the same scene from Fight Club over and over and over again. Absolutely wonderful. And I got to my parents' house and basically ran from room to room - I can't be certain if I was looking for my stuff or if I was just remembering. Simple things can have such meaning.

The next day, a year ago today, was spent organising my life. I had to redo my drivers exam. Which wasn't really a mission, but I was a little uneasy seeing as how I drive a stick-shift on the wrong side of the road over here and ALL of the road signs and markings are completely different. But at least I can parallel park, which made the manoeuverability part much easier this time around. Anyhow, my mom, me and Oscar headed out to K-Mart after that escapade, where I just browsed around in disbelief and bought a few necessities for the kid. The rest of the afternoon was spent organising my rental car. Do you guys remember it? Not my style, but what an amazing "sweet" ride it was. And the minute I could, I negotiated my way down to Coventry. I almost can't believe I still knew how to get there from Mentor. Although I don't know why I should be so surprised. I can literally see every bend in MLKJ Drive and every shop front going up little Italy. I think I could just make myself cry thinking about it.

And then to see the faces I've been longing to see, that I still long to see. To sit in the bar that I think of every time I open a beer. To 'run' around Cleveland Hts like it is 'my' playground. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the memories. One year ago today. Its not like I could forget, but how can one night mean so much? Well, briefly put, it is my world. Most nights I dream of it, every day I have to shake it off, like dust from a rug and sweep it out of the corners of my mind. And I have to constantly push thoughts out of my head to keep up with life at all. Oh to be home...

But hey, its not all bad - a few days ago, Steve's mom called to confirm that we were joining them in Durban again this year. Its not around the corner yet, but its coming up. I like Durban, mainly because up here in Joburg, the air is dry and biting. Down in Durban, the humidity and the heat feel like it could be an August day in Cleveland. This, of course, is because of the sea. And, well, "sea" is for cookie, and thats good enough for me.

lisa loeb look

super glam