I have videos for you!
1. A slice of life- driving behind a dala dala with two young men holding on to the back of it, wearing roller blades. New meaning to 'hitching a ride'. Also, it's incredibly dry here these days and when we drive out to one of our tanzanian schools on friday, we hit some pretty intense dust. Check it out:
2. Ndoto production is going great and I'm getting pretty excited about the whole thing. Here's a video showing our last rehearsal where we put the first three parts together. Remember, this composition tells the story of Maasai children that dream that they become ants. It's with French subtitles for our French artist, Colette to watch. Enjoy!
3. A couple of weeks ago, I was teaching my class at Makumira University when I noticed that there were thousands of what looked like big snowflakes streaming past our fourth-floor windows. They were in fact millions of butterflies, in route from the North and heading south in their large migration. It was so enchanting to me. The butterflies filled the air of Arusha for more than three days before most of them went onward. I took video and then had to write something about it.
The day it snowed African butterflies
In eyes of staring, quick blinking wonder
I transported my soul far and long out of this bus
where those flakes of white and glittering snow were.
Cascading, rolling in a flutter up and over the roofs
In one heavy sigh of earth’s cool breath
Within me there, childhood awe pulled me back
The millions of wings reflecting across the glaze of my eyes
and standing in the grass alone, I felt them tickle my arms and hair
Closing all thoughts of the dusty, filthy ground around me
I could be lifted as gracefully and joyfully as this African snow
They were there together, one bright body in a river of flight
And you could hear the whisper of their ancestors
(In each patter of a wing)
who had passed the speechless stories
that taught them to fly from Mombasa to Chimoio
I watched as the mountain, arms wide and strong,
Poured out all that is her bounty.
Feeding them nectar and rain for their exhausting passage;
Offering another gust of forward guidance
when they stopped to fall in love with a brighter
and more colorful flower than the last
The rhythm of each butterfly’s lift and fall
brought them closer to a distant place I'll never know.
As I watched their sightless trust in the wind,
their comfort in spinning together or alone,
sleeping only when their journey is finished,
I too could breathe deeper,
knowing that my wings are not alone in this blind voyage.
I transported my soul far and long out of this bus
where those flakes of white and glittering snow were.
Cascading, rolling in a flutter up and over the roofs
In one heavy sigh of earth’s cool breath
Within me there, childhood awe pulled me back
The millions of wings reflecting across the glaze of my eyes
and standing in the grass alone, I felt them tickle my arms and hair
Closing all thoughts of the dusty, filthy ground around me
I could be lifted as gracefully and joyfully as this African snow
They were there together, one bright body in a river of flight
And you could hear the whisper of their ancestors
(In each patter of a wing)
who had passed the speechless stories
that taught them to fly from Mombasa to Chimoio
I watched as the mountain, arms wide and strong,
Poured out all that is her bounty.
Feeding them nectar and rain for their exhausting passage;
Offering another gust of forward guidance
when they stopped to fall in love with a brighter
and more colorful flower than the last
The rhythm of each butterfly’s lift and fall
brought them closer to a distant place I'll never know.
As I watched their sightless trust in the wind,
their comfort in spinning together or alone,
sleeping only when their journey is finished,
I too could breathe deeper,
knowing that my wings are not alone in this blind voyage.
What a lovely and well-crafted poem! I can tell how deeply nature touches you there, and you have captured so much in the verses.
ReplyDeleteAlso enjoyed watching your videos of how the children's musical is progessing, the crazy boys behind the taxi, and of the dust storm.
I am sure all these wonderous memories will appear one day in some transcendent music composition!
Just simply beautiful poem. I felt it and I was there seeing them billow up against Mt. Meru. Perfect!
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