Farm Orientation
July 11, 2011
Sunday Morning
It’s dark and the sound of light snoring drifts through the old stone house. Every now and then a sleeping bag rustles as a body shifts. The rain has eased but the wind is up and the percussion on the tin roof continues. I guess its about 5 o’clock and get up and go for a walk. It’s a fresh breeze blowing out of the north east for which I am thankful – from the south and it would be a much cooler story. Rod has set up some LED lights in the outhouses so my visit there is less an adventure in the dark than some in the past.
On the Road Again
July 10, 2011
Saturday Evening
The thrumming flames wrest heat from damp wood and start to get serious about radiating. Bedding lies scattered around the floor in front of it, owners all in the kitchen area taking note of the brief on arrival which went something like “If Bruce is happy, you are all happy”. And the quickest way to ensure Bruce is happy is to pull your finger out, which in this case is best understood to be “don’t stand around watching us unpack”. So there is a happy chatter coming from the kitchen as food is sorted and placed in appropriate storage for the week. Rain has set in and tats away on the tin roof, rain which had made the inbound track slick and slightly interesting to slide around on as we came in from the highway. The kitchen has been sorted and everyone has drifted in and are standing around talking nonsense. The girls are all in pajamas already, much to the perplexed boys who probably wonder what PJs actually are.
Taxi Driver (Kenyan – in Kenya)
May 8, 2011
Good morning. Are you going up country?
Sure am. Not many who are doing that at this time of the morning.
He laughs.
True enough. Most are heading into the city at this time of the morning. We should have a clear run up the highway.
I hope this does not sound rude but I think your idea of a highway and mine are two very different things.
He laughs again. There is no offence. Even I agree these roads are terrible. I have driven all over this country and I have to agree, our roads are a disgrace.
Abdulluh the Hutt – my Sudan Prebriefer
March 19, 2011
Taxi Story – Chinese
March 18, 2011
(I use my time in the taxi to practise my interview techniques. In so doing I suddenly realised I was uncovering some remarkable stories. Some are captured on my blog under the Taxi Story collection - click on link in right hand bar to see some of them).
Hey, you know my son is very upset. He is in Japan!
In Japan? Not in Tokyo I hope.
Yes in Tokyo. He was supposed to be in one of the areas struck by the tsunami but his tour was delayed. Read more
Berowra: Leaving the Big Smoke for Real Smoke
March 12, 2011
The moon gives up and sinks its visible half into a red bed then vanishes altogether. As I watch, the Milky Way slowly becomes more milky as the sky deepens, highlighting more and more heavenly lights. I’m on my back on a rock ledge and quite comfortable thank-you. As I gaze up a couple of “shooting stars” scratch their lightening flash of white across the blue grey black, as if to thumb their noses at the efforts of the moon to keep them invisible. Read more
Leaving Lima – and a bit of my heart
March 11, 2011
(Diary 15 Nov 2010) I am sure they sound erudite and clever to each other but the two German ladies , otherwise quite well presented, are through half a bottle of white and have knocked off half a bottle of duty free Drambuie. I am surprised they are still sitting upright. It is one form of therapy I guess as I sit here waiting all day (Buenos Aires) for a delayed QANTAS flight. There are a lot of “sh” sounds in German and right now this pair are blurring together in to a rolling, excited “shhhhhh” If they are on my flight it will be along haul alright, especially if all those drugs don’t knock them out. It’s my birthday so the wish I make for myself is one of quiet travel back across the Pacific. Read more
Cultural Gaffe (one of many)
February 19, 2011
The local grocery store in Washington DC is like a modern museum – not because it is full of old stuff but because it is full of wonders. I meander the aisles, cutting from side to side looking at the variety of goods and am amazed and a little confounded at, inter alia the variety of breakfast cereals. They say Americans eat a lot of sugar. After perusing the cartons in front of me I am inclined to agree. Fortunately the store has a great variety of fruit and vegetables, all sourced from places up and down the Potomac - and Florida it seems. I am not sure about the deli cornucopia and leave that to another trip to try and decipher. It’s way too confusing. Read more
Who Are You and What Are you Doing to Me?
February 4, 2011
I prefer to travel on my own. It’s safer. I can respond to my own instincts and not have to try and explain what I am doing or why I am doing it. I know my limits. I see events unfolding and can either avoid or engage them, usually with plenty of time on my side. If there is an ornery taxi driver I only have to deal with him. If I take a wrong turn (it happens occasionally) I know it quickly, and can circle back without any grumbling. A gun in the face is something only I have to deal with (those stories will out one day). I only have to watch my own back. Every step is an adventure, not something to be endured. I can explore any time of the day, poke up any alley I please, engage anyone I care to, avoid those I deem prudent to steer around.
So what the heck am I doing travelling with you lot?
Joanna
January 8, 2011
I have a sister that never left home even though she was born in 1972. I dropped by last week and paid her a visit. I always do if I am ‘home’, even if travelling through in the middle of the night. You can do that when you are family, calling in at rude hours. She never complains. Sometimes the chat is silent. Families are good at that too – communicating with silences that is. But this time Steve was with me and I felt a bit self-conscious about talking in front of him, even though he is the dearest friend and knows me well. Even saying hello seemed a bit awkward. So I stuck my hands in my pockets and shuffled my feet, got a bit emotional and after an awkward silence moved on. Next time I am back I will bring some paint for things are a bit weathered at her place and I would like to think people know there are folk who care. We can have a chat as the paint is brushed and I can take my time. I nodded to old Jim nearby, said hello to John (Joanna’s former babysitter), dipped me lid at Rodney whose truck once fell off a mountain and whose mother is no longer able to deliver him the weekly flowers, her last delivery now dry and broken stalks. She hangs out just a short walk away. We stood with David, mentor and friend, and gazed in silence over the countryside. He and his parents look out over Joanna as do many others I know. It’s getting to be quite a community up there on the hill. Sadly some of them have no voice but I am always pleased at what Joanna has to say. She tells those who would mull these things that she is ‘a child of the covenant’, speaking of a sure hope of eternal and unfailing commitment by her creator that, though her mortal remains look over a corner of Otago, she lives on in His presence and in that ‘presence there is a fullness of joy’. She is a great encourager that Joanna, sister of mine.
