Dear Diary

 Dear Diary ...

It has been a long time since I lifted your cover and delved into the familiar pages within. These pages have weathered depression, sorrow, mania ... balancing medication - at times unsuccessfully,  crushes, love, passion, rejection and heartache. They don't really go into gradual acceptance, numbness and the void. Life moves on at an alarming speed, but do I move with it. Am I still left on that empty beach where I was told it was over. What will it take to start a new chapter of my own and turn the page.

We were living off borrowed time

 Your presence is still here, the empty dog bed, the foot tread behind me. I turn, expecting to see your smiling face or your nudge beneath my elbow. Then I think of your freshly dug grave up in the back garden. Beside my other two precious pups, Jasper and Elsie. Soon to plant a yesterday, today and tomorrow bush and a deep crimson rose above you.

I wish your time here could have been longer and that you hadn't suffered before you went. My mum stayed up all night with you. I didn't. I had to teach the next day. I only am told of your sad, painful demise. I am so sorry.

Under the tree where the bees had been

 Dogs know when their time is near. King upped and went to the tall strelitzias yesterday. A spot hidden away. He had more or less stopped eating at this point and we sensed the end was near. I followed him and crouched by him, grieving my imminent loss.

He was my cuddle bear, ever gentle, soft and kind. My emotional support dog, confidant and friend. The antithesis of Jasper, my previous dog, but beautiful in so many other ways.

Today I said good bye to another animal soul mate. He will always be my very dear fur baby and steady pad foot friend.

Hope is not necessarily feathered

 In Zimbabwe, hope is not necessarily the thing with feathers on. It feels often more like the thing with crampons holding on, only just. The hope that your salary will stretch to month end. A street child hoping for a donation at the traffic intersection. Hope in the continuation of using the US dollar. Everyday hopes that there will be electricity and water. 

In scripture, faith, hope and love remain. Hope and faith build upon each other. A hope of a better afterlife and to take on life's challenges with perseverance. To not put one's faith in earthly things. To the average Zimbabwean though, I'd say put on those crampons and courage and fortitude.

Waiting for the rain

 The clouds are not yet in formation to bring rain and thunderstorms. They dissapate and are mere wisps. How long til the first downpour? Does it still need to be really warm?

My garden is thirsty. I should use more drought resistant plants. Instead of roses and agapanthus, succulents and bushveld.

The flies buzz and the heat forms a haze. Will we get good rains? It has been a drought year. When the municipal water goes, we wonder if this is it and if we'll have to buy water. We've been lucky but how long will it last? We need to rain harvest from our roof.

Stream of Consciousness

 The heat, it saps. My dog sits at my feet and snaps at flies. I must put on flysmear. If only flysmear worked to get rid of all things that bother and bite. I could do with some of that. A fruit chaffer zooms by. Bird song and an aeroplane. Things that I have to do later.

Friendship and writing. I should journal every day but I don't. Life gets busy and time goes by. Agapanthus, a deep blue. My doggie at my feet, faithful girl. I wonder where King has gone? Coffee and water. Two essentials to get through October.  Babblers in the background, come to see what is going on.

Summer

Blue skies before the rains, the building heat. Dust devils and dry leaves. Is it warm enough to swim yet? To plunge into the icy depths. At school we would have jumped in by now. Were we more inured to the cold?

Ice cream men and ice lollies. A bloody nose. Afternoon siestas. Endless watering of the garden. The jacarandas are starting. End of winter duvets. Gin and tonics with lots of ice. The return of the birds. Jasmine makes way for plumbago. Bush fires.

Stream of consciousness

 Sunshine, peeking through the banks of flowers. Snippets of conversation and laughter. Good friends, time to pause. Reflections in the glassware. A cockerel. The heat wafts on the breeze. Noise is not too intrusive. The swimming pool has gone.

The staff clear tables and patrol the garden. High heels on the paving. The high end. The breeze cools and caresses. Summer is here. Hollyhocks and the end of the camellias. 

Zimbabwean Midsummer Night's Dream

 Enter Tembo, the boyfriend, to KFC Avondale and Tendai, the girlfriend, with co-workers.

TEMBO

Ill met by the KFC, proud Tendai.

TENDAI

What do you want now, Tembo?

Colleagues, give us a moment.

TEMBO

What's up Tendai, why are you hurting me?

All I want is a free quarter chicken and chips to satiate my appetite. 

TENDAI

You have to pay for it.

TEMBO

How long is your shift?

TENDAI

Until midnight.

TEMBO

Give me the chicken and chips!!

TENDAI

Not for the whole KFC. Voetsek!

The Others

 I've "known" them since they were little. Street urchins by the Lomagundi traffic lights, foraging for a living, picking up donations from drivers at the intersection. They then went on to directing traffic  when there was no ZESA. Little boys stopping massive trucks and risking life and limb for measly tips.

Since those memories, I've seen the one at the Sam Nujoma and Aberdeen/Churchill lights. He is now selling windscreen wiper sponges and he smiles and waves, even though I am not buying.

Last week a tall, lanky youth came to my car window at the King George intersection with Aberdeen. I didn't recognize him until he smiled and asked where my mother and the Honda CRV were. I unfortunately couldn't buy his luxury toilet rolls and the lights changed. I realized I don't even know their names.

My sister has been living in England since 2015. When she and her husband visited Zimbabwe in 2017, my brother-in-law felt it was a culture shock, primarily with regard to our domestic help system, which he feels is ongoing colonialism. My sister feels very strongly about this now too and is of the opinion we do not pay our gardener enough. At that point in time he was earning more than I was.

I personally think that whilst domestic help is not ideal, it does at least offer employment and benefits. For instance, children of domestic helpers are sent to school and this hopefully offers them better employment options than their parents. It also means their families are kept from living in dire poverty and have an income each month. 

When I look at the ever increasing number of people living on the street and begging for their existence, I believe that offering jobs should not be sniveled at.

We get a steady stream of beggars coming to our gate. Some only want money but some are happy with a bottle of water or a cup of tea and a peanut butter sandwich. It is hard to tell if some of the stories for money are genuine.

We are a bit wary of beggars that come at dusk. My friend's mother was shot dead at her gate one evening in June 2007. We therefore ask that people only come in daylight. 

The number who come can sometimes feel relentless and some seem very desperate. I am angry that our government has failed these people and offers no buffer to poverty.

Down the Baobab Tree

 Fadzai and Tembo had always felt a gravitational force attracting them toward the great baobab tree, two kilometres outside the village. Its wide outstretched bare arms beckoned them. The village elders warned them though of the leopard that lived up the top in the hollow. It liked to eat small children or so they had been told.

It had been a long, hot October day and the heat sat heavily on everyone's shoulders. Fadzai and Tembo had been sent to fetch water and the buckets weighed them down. Stopping to take a rest, they suddenly were aware of the roots and solid trunk of the tree next to them. Looking up at the bright October sky they realized they were at the giant baobab.

Fadzai hastily picked up her bucket but Tembo continued to stare in awe, and then as if in a trance, walked closer to the enormous tree. On the ground was a cracked open furry seed pod and excited, Tembo pulled out the powdery white cream of tartar seeds. He sucked and chewed contentedly and offered some to his sister. Fadzai at first refused but then was persuaded as she did really like the cream of tartar too. It tasted like sherbet.

The two children were so busy enjoying the fruit that they did not notice two sets of eyes honing in on them. One had four legs, while the other slithered. The four-legged tree resident descended from above, whilst the slithering onlooker came from the roots.

Suddenly the children were aware that they were being watched. Nervously they bent down to pick up their buckets when a gruff voice said, "Don't go." And a hiss said, "Sssssstay." The children froze. Stories of witchcraft and children disappearing were not unheard of. Tembo sounding braver than he felt, straightened up and said, "Who are you?" There was a pause and then out of the tree trunk emerged a large leopard. Both children froze. The gruff voice said, "Don't be alarmed, I am one of the guardians of this magical tree." The children stood rooted to the spot and internally wondered who were the others? As if in answer to their thoughts they suddenly looked down to a python winding between their feet. "I am the other," murmured the snake, and then he said, "We mean you no harm."

Tembo, summoning up all his courage spluttered, "We need to go home." The snake had slid up to the hollow in the tree trunk. "Don't you want to see the secret world inside the tree? We've been waiting for you a very long time." Fadzai and Tembo looked at each other. They had always been very curious children. Some times in danger of their own good.

"What magical world?" they asked. "A land that can only be visited once, on one day, before it is replaced by another one," whispered the leopard. "You may enter at your own peril but must return from it before the sun sets or else you will remain in that land forever."

"What lives in these lands?" asked Fadzai. "Oh, anything from your imagination," hissed the python, "Are you ready to explore?"

Nature Journaling

I

Seed poded munondo giving way to jacaranda. Indigenous to exotic. Changes in my life reflected.

A furry friend follows me along the way.

To the right a manicured terraced veggie garden.

Lady chancellor dotted in between.

A dragonfly perches near where I write.

Pauses then takes flight.

The wintry sun lights up the air and gives a glimmer of spring.

II

Yellow African grass yellow butterflies flit through the dappled light.

A msasa in the distance changing foliage.

It will soon be glorious.

The woodland rustles and the floor is a patchwork of tawny leaves. 

Who knows where this story leads?

A golden peanut butter cassia in the glade,

a butter yellow, still holding on to hope.

III

The buzz of flies and birds cry.

In a poolside garden, ladies write

of msasa trees and Zimbabwean spring.

All around the succulents brim with exotic colours,

standing out from the woodland.

Potted rose bushes, daisies, and bougainvillea,

edging the tranquil pool, too cold yet to swim in.

And still, the ladies write, each with their own take on nature and their surroundings.

A mini oasis in the dry landscape.

That glitter stone pool does invite

but more for a summertime delight. 

Memoir III

 For my friend Sarah Dowling's 21st when I was studying at UCT in South Africa, she had us dress up as our favourite cocktail. There were strawberry daiquiris, pink ladies, Captain Morgan's and I went as a cape velvet, wearing a brown velvet cape I inherited from Mrs Derby, my junior school music teacher at Convent.

On arrival, you could have a non-alcoholic or alcoholic jelly bean cocktail. I'm so glad I chose the non-alcoholic version as the alcoholic one was lethal. People were bouncing on it and it went straight to their heads.

It was a fun night and we all had a great evening. The only problem was trying to herd very drunk people home to Fuller and Smuts residences after. It was like herding cats. Several decided they were going to roll down the concrete stairs by the library and Jammie stairs. They semi did roll which must have been painful. When we finally reached the Fuller and Smuts car park, some of the group said they'd sleep on the hedges. A group of Smuts men decided they wanted to be let into Fuller, the girl's residence, and streak around the corridors. I managed to sneak in without admitting the gentlemen and left them to fend for themselves outside. Sleeping on the hedge and all.

Memoir II

 It was the week prior to elections and I was turning 30. It seemed like such a big age. My friend Lucy and her folks kindly offered for me to have my party at their home. Since I was born in the 80's, I chose that era as the theme.

Rubic cube cake, pin the glove on Michael Jackson, disco and technicolour. I had fun baking, painting and preparing. Despite the build up to elections, we went ahead and hired a dance floor, glasses and speakers.

Everyone made an effort dressing up. Punk rockers, shoulder pads, you name it. It was a night to remember and we danced the evening away.

Memoir I

 It was a court case over visiting rights and custody. I was thirteen. My sister and I were sent in to see the judge in his rooms at the high court. I had to think back over the last few months of my dad's erratic behavior. Strange, unsettling. A manic depressive not on medication. Alarming for my younger self and my little sister.

I did most of the talking. My sister sat there. How did I feel my dad was as a father? Did I feel safe? Prior to this I had been for therapy and the psychologist had written an affidavit. I was asked if I wanted to still see my dad. This all seemed really heavy stuff for a thirteen year old.

But how did I feel inside? What did I really want? What figure did my dad cut for my sister and me?

The time in the judge's room ended and we were ushered out. As we went into the corridor, my dad was at the other end. He shouted out he had a right to see his children. We were quickly transferred into another room. And that was the last time. Did my dad have the right to see us? I'm still thinking about that one to this day.

Back in lockdown and online

Just seen that the last time I posted was end of May. Feels like a time warp since then. I finished marking all the exams for form twos which was quite an undertaking, and then did preparation for report comments. After that I was able to relax a bit. I went to art with Sarah Fynn and also managed a trip to Nyanga with good friends, which was icy but lovely. So glad we did it then, as we have now gone back into lockdown in Zim and interprovincial travel is blocked for the moment. I spent the last week of my holiday suddenly having to think about how to do high school online. Gulp! Art is particularly tricky but brainstormed with my colleague and we made a plan. 

It is a strange case of deja vu but also adaptation to new things for me at the moment. The whole period between now and the last lock down is a bit hazy and I've lost track of time. Sadly a few people I've known have died and funerals were limited in numbers. There have actually suddenly been quite a few deaths, some semi-expected, some not. My one dear friend lost her special dad and she had to travel out from the UK. Whilst travelling here was stressful with Covid, returning to the UK and having to stay in a quarantine hotel has been the pits. I am so not keen to do that to use my air ticket before it expires.

I have also been helping to moderate exam marking for IGCSE art. Art has definitely changed since I did high school art. You now have to put together a portfolio of work, experiment and explore a theme and show progression and structure through to your final exam piece. Some great art has been done by some of the girls. I am supposed to do an online course with Cambridge on marking IGCSE.

So yes, in some ways a lot has happened, but in other ways it's more of the same. My form ones in art are supposed to be thinking of ideas for a massive event to celebrate the end of Covid and design invitations, posters and a menu for it. My one dear student though said she was going to do it for a funeral - um, not quite what I was angling for in my brief. 

Africa Day and 1800 more minutes

 Today is Africa Day. Always makes me think deeply about this wonderful continent of ours and all the places I still want to visit on it. I'm very keen to maybe try go to Namibia with a German friend at the end of the year and then maybe Gonarezhou in Zim if I can with her too. Both on my bucket list. Still not sure when to use my England ticket. I'm not paying a fortune for quarantine and PCRs. 

The rest of this week is going to be a hectically busy one. Tomorrow, I go with the geo and drama departments to the Swedish Embassy for a workshop on climate change. I'm not sure if I'll be taking maths support before that, if I do, I will have to leave slightly early. Thursday straight after maths I hop on the bus with the A level art girls to go to Gallery Delta and then come back to school to do invigilating training. Friday I have professional development at Gateway in the afternoon. Three days, I can do it, just. Thank goodness no more really early mornings this term to do temperature checks at the gate. The guy who does it with me said last week he was manning the station on his own and because he was multi-tasking he accidentally squirted hand sanitiser at a girl instead of taking her temperature with the temperature gun. It went in her eyes, oops.

So looking forward the the three week break in June. Although I don't like having had a 6 month long term, the idea that I won't have to rush out of bed right in the middle of winter is a small consolation prize. Hope to go do some art with Sarah Fynn and maybe go to Nyanga. I might try my hand at doing a Bolivian multi-grain miellie. The other art teacher is having a go herself at the projects we've set our form ones and twos. Have to try using just primary colours and blending, like we've asked our students to.

My form ones are very sweet. Last Friday at the end of the lesson, one very petite girl came up to my desk. She had her mask on and I couldn't hear what she was saying, but eventually I heard her saying, have a nice weekend. They are all still obsessed with the concept of diamonds from peanut butter. I found a cool geology video though that had them bopping in their chairs which explained the rock cycle well, so hopefully they've understood it now.

Nearly the end of a half a year term

 I won't lie, the last couple of weeks have been a struggle. Especially with the very early morning temperature gate check duty which means I have to leave home at 6.15 to get to school on time. Lots of coffee has been needed and a great deal of exhaustion at the end of the week with lots of naps at weekends. The end of term is on the horizon though. We close on the 4th of June, but we have school exams before then and I have training tomorrow afternoon on how to write reports in the correct way and will also have training on how to invigilate exams. This Friday we have another professional photographer coming to give a talk in the art department and next week the geography and drama departments are going to the Swedish Embassy to do a workshop on the environment and the Sustainable Development Goals.

I might get a new NILD student from school. Am still trying to decide whether I will do Level 2 this year. At this precise moment I feel I could cope but school can suddenly spring extra work on you and leave you feeling very stressed. I am also not sure if I am using my air ticket to go to the UK in September or not. It all depends on the quarantine law. I'm not spending more than my air ticket on a crummy hotel and sitting isolated for 10 days out of my three week break in September. My form twos today were bemoaning COVID and how they haven't had a proper social life as teenagers so far.

Am quiz mistress along with another friend on Saturday. We're going to sit and try and gel our joint efforts together tomorrow. Tempted to ask whether it's true or false that you can make diamonds out of peanut butter. My form ones asked me this in geography and am afraid I dismissed it, until I thought I'd better Google and check, and low and behold you can, albeit low grade ones. My form ones are now theorising that if you sat on a jar of peanut butter with enough pressure you would create diamonds and make your fortune. I hope they're taking in the rest of the geo notes too.

Surfacing and reproduction of spiders

 The last couple of weeks have been a bit of a whirl wind of learning new things, new names and what I'm supposed to be doing. Am really enjoying being in the art department and am getting to know the girls and other staff. The form ones can come up with the funniest things. I get complimented on my dress sense and eyes but I also get asked random questions that have nothing to do with what we're learning. Today I was asked in a very serious tone, how do spiders reproduce. For a minute I thought about it and was about to give a biological answer but then I checked myself and was like, this is a geography lesson. They hadn't done reproductive biology yet and I was not about to go into spider reproduction. Nice try.

I have agreed to do maths support in the afternoons. You can see the effect of not having classroom teaching for a year. Some of my students just have no idea when it comes to algebra. Need to go back to basics. Had geo solar system projects to mark last weekend. There were a couple of projects that were really impressive and creative. From 3D planets made out of play dough or kaylite balls, I was really impressed.

This afternoon we had a dad who is a professional wildlife photographer giving a talk on photography to the sixth form. It was really cool and I learnt quite a bit on field of view, IOS and editing raw files. Had time at break today to sit on the steps with some of the other staff and photosynthesise which was nice. One of the staff was selling M&S, Woolworths and H&M clothes and another lady has eggs. Wish someone was selling milk, there's a shortage again.

Am back home to my beloved dogs. Was house sitting a big great Dane, a puppy great Dane and a pug last weekend and then Snowy, the black dog this week. Have marking and prep work but a friend is having a birthday at Domboshawa tomorrow and then have a braai and church on Sunday. Organising an online quiz tonight.

Music, photography and a long weekend

 We've been doing a hybrid time table this week with some of the school in and some doing online. It got jolly confusing as you had to have Microsoft Teams on video and recording while teaching those at school and it was tricky remembering to do this. I also had to quickly work out how to use Teams and how to do a shared screen, a bit different to Zoom which I'm more used to. In between I have been sprinting up and down to the computer lab to get help with Teams glitches and access to Senatical (a program we use for grades and report comments). I have almost made it through the first week though. Tomorrow all my classes are online so I can work from home.

It's Independence Day on Sunday, so we get Monday off as a holiday (yay!!) Will be going to get the second injection of Sino Pharm (although apparently Doha isn't recognising it as a vaccine for travel purposes). Might meet up with people in Ballantyne Park Conservancy on Sunday morning and hoping to Skype a friend in Australia Sunday afternoon.

Am loving that there is music in the art room (the girls bring their own and we've had Queen, Sia and other music playing) and then yesterday the orchestra was practising next door in the music room. They were doing a good job of Pirates of the Caribbean on strings.