Yes I am an African, an Expert in Everything African especially History.
If there is a word that has a plurality of meanings and implications but at the same time integrate those meanings and implications to one reference point (me), is the word AFRICAN.
People introduce me as:
A friend from Africa
A brother from Africa
A fantastic drummer ‘African Style’ from Africa.
All the above = AFRICAN
Where are you from?
I am from Cameroon.
Where is that?
West Africa
Oh! You mean Africa
Yes the western part of Africa
That’s = AFRICAN.
I like the clothes you are wearing. Where did you get those?
From home, my mother sent it to me as a gift.
It looks AFRICAN
Thank you
You have such a beautiful smile
Thank you
It reminds me of my last summer in Africa
Where and when?
I was in Ghana five years ago
Wonderful
It was unbelievable. The AFRICAN people are very open-minded and extremely welcoming.
(Big smile on my face)
What did you do in Ghana? I asked
I was in a village outside Accra, working on a health project by UNICEF. The children there had such white teeth—it’s miraculous. Dentist here will sigh for in vain
Blame the genes; I concurred (Her face beams with a sense of understanding)
Hey guys meet my friend from Africa (AFRICAN). He is good in soccer.
You mean Football? Another friend clarified
Yes! That is how they call it in Africa.
That’s freaking awesome!
I was at the zoo lately, they have this huge elephant, and the guide told us it was from Africa.
That is great, when can I go see it? I inquired
You mean you’ve never seen an elephant before?
Not up close, except in movies, magazines, etc
You are kidding right?
Nope! Not in my blood
But you are from Africa
Yes I am: African
Ok I will take you to the zoo tomorrow. You will love it. There are so many exotic animals there from Africa
Exotic animals? African?
The next day I was an African in an American zoo looking at African animals—nothing beats that kind of exotic display.
You’re with me so far?
If not then you do need an African friend. Now is the time to make friends with one of those exotic human beings who are flooding the streets of American suburbs, metropolitan centers and wherever they want to lay down their roots. When they speak, their accent is striking and their English diction has a British twist with a Native flair, or showcases the influence of Spanish, Portuguese, and French and in some remote ways German and Dutch.
Since I behave like an African and above all Look African, hence I am an Expert in Everything African. I never thought of becoming an expert in my life, and especially an expert in current affairs and their historical connections.
Growing up in Cameroon, all I wanted to do was play football (soccer, pardon my accent) the whole day, take a long bath at the stream, and go home for a delicious meal and then sleep. Life continues. Life is great. History in secondary school was boring until I had to write it at the ‘O Levels’ to cash a 20000 CFA (about $50) reward promised me by a friend of my mother. I have no clue what I did with that cash, but I remember getting it with so much satisfaction. Nothing in the world beats getting cash from your mother’s friend who’s like an Aunt and no sweats for it.
What caught my fancy in school was the ‘Sciences’. I preferred cramming biological processes, chemical equations and experimenting Newton’s laws with mango fruits instead of knowing what revolutions took place in Europe, and on which date was the Magna Carta signed? Magna Carta isn’t that Latin or something?
Why was History boring?
There are many reasons but let me say:
There was too much to read because it was sub-divided into three major sections.
A) Cameroon. B) Africa C) World, and that was not all; each major section was subdivided as well. I had no time for huge volumes of books that cut short on my time for football playing. That’s why the ‘Sciences’ were kool. If I spend 10 minutes cramming a Physics law, I can use that law forever. If I crammed an equation (X+Y=Z), I can use it to solve all math problems—life is great and life continues.
After five years of studying (relegating it to a day before a History test), what did I learn from History? The quote from my History teachers says it all
“History has taught us that people do not learn from History”
What that quote meant to my brilliant 12-year-old mind then was: We are a species of profound mental retardation (pardon my French) who do the same things over and over again. So why will I want to learn about the mistakes of Yesterday today which I know Tomorrow it’s going to happen anyway? Why not wait and see it happen tomorrow then, makes perfect sense? Brilliant! Light bulb. Let’s see some Historical aspects in general terms
A. The Scramble for Africa was a mess (one tribe divided into two/three different countries. I wonder what Geography lessons the surveyors took. Hey man this river here seems like its not navigable, lets put the boundary of a country right here, more importantly I am tired of those big mosquitoes.)
B. Europe was going from one Revolution to another, even though the last one was a disaster
C. Kings fought Kings because they were in love with the cousins, wives or sisters of other Kings
D. One person fought to liberate his people only to be killed by the same people he liberated, talk about patriotism gone wild
E. And what was Napoleon thinking anyways?
F. Don’t get me started with the Far East, China and the Middle East
G. An ethnic group was almost wiped out because of corn, and now corn is the leading agricultural commodity. Thank you corn syrup.
And so on and so forth.
As an expert in Everything African, I have an excellent idea for all the questions put forth to me. Nowadays a majority of them is all related to History somehow- darn it. I wish I didn’t skip those History classes.
Where can we eat good African food? I know exactly where to salivate your taste buds
Where can we listen and dance to great African music? Somewhere in town, we’ll be gyrating
Tell me about African Culture. Oh yes! Plenty of anecdotes ensue from my lips like Victoria Falls.
I saw this documentary about Africa, is it True that they…
What do you think about Rwanda and now Darfur? It’s an Historical conspiracy my friend
What about AIDS and the starving children? It’s an Historical conspiracy, just that we’ve added women and children into the equation as a throw-off variation, pretentious for that matter
As an expert I have the perfect answer: Its TRUE but where I come from is different. That answer works like a charm. You see!!!!! Just like X+Y=Z it works perfect. The equation remains the same even though the X, Y, and Z’s vary.
After all the black-and-blue of History, what do I have to say about Africa and its History? A lot.
I will be willing to share with anyone who asks. For simplicity sake and educational purposes, certain generalizations pertaining to Africa might be helpful.
(Please take it from an Expert, I know what I am saying, I was born to do this, hope to get paid for it as well!! Big laugh. If that does not convince you; the mere fact that I am an African is Great Qualification in itself—nothing beats that, not even a specialty in African Affairs, African History, and certainly not a PhD in anything related to Africa, from Egyptology to Afro-Religious Studies.)
Hence here are my insights on Africa:
Africa is the second largest Country in the world after Asia (the birthplace of Bamboo culture, can you believe the tensile strength of those plants!!), but unfortunate to have at least 54 presidents ruling at the same time, a catalyst for confusion, that is why nothing gets done in Africa.
The national language is Swahili, Zulu, Afrikaans, Shona, or some obscure Bantu tongue depending on which African you meet
The landscape is rainforest, jungle or desert blessed with wild animals and primeval cultures reserved for National Geographic
The people live in blissful nakedness, and cover themselves only for photo shoots and TV cameras, but most importantly Christianization
They learn French, English, Portuguese, or Spanish through leaflets dropped by military helicopters
Diseases on the ground are highly contagious—the kind of diseases that only Medicins Sans Frontieres can scope the ramifications
There is no belief in the God-ordained religions of the world. They are so caught up in Voodoo and Black Magic, and for that they are all going to hell.
(And that’s the Word from an expert), the guy who looks like an African, behaves like African, talks like an African, and certainly knows Everything about Africa.
Long Live the Mother Continent.
PS: My colleagues in the Research Department just sent me a note saying every Homo sapiens was an African at some point. Therefore everyone is qualified to know everything about Africa—darn it. Then I am not as special as I thought I was. Well!!!! I still believe I am an Expert—whatever that means and I am holding unto that till my becoming extinct.
Peace out.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Monday, November 27, 2006
A deal over a cup of Starbucks Coffee
The Deal over a cup of Starbucks Coffee
He opens the glass doors to the coffee shop, steps in and looks for available seats. He decides to settle on one of the two blue sofas separated by an embellished coffee table tucked at a corner as if on purpose: an ideal seating for two lovers to chart their love lives while listening to soothing music, and encouraged to bare their souls with each sip by that scent—an aroma that awakens the taste buds of every Starbucks customer; taking them to the door steps of their nighttime dreams.
He dusts the seat with a handkerchief, reclines to the far right, adjusts for comfort, and makes sure his red silk tie is in place, before reaching for his super fast laptop that had been begging to be used. It’s his latest toy, customized to his liking, delivered by a polite-face FedEx employee. He had signed the delivery sheet with the sheer excitement of an innocent boy. He opens his laptop and streams to the Internet, launches his Myspace account, and scrolls down the names of his friends and clicks on the profile of his date to double-check.
Not that he isn’t familiar with who she is as exhibited by her profile description, numerous photos, Blog messages, and phone conversations that stretched to the wee hours of the morning; he wants to look at her photos to imbed her image before it gets secluded to the world of memory. In a few minutes he’ll see her in person for the first time. Everything is going to change?
The question running through his mind like a jet on a runway is: Is she all that she is? He leans back, rubs his palms and slides them between his ears to make his hair look sleek, wipes his face, and then beams forth a demeanor—a pose of an assured young man, highly accomplished, a veritable gentleman in an age of virtual feats.
He looks at his wrist watch (Versace with diamond initials BNG) two minutes had elapsed. That fast?
“ I just came in seconds ago.”
He is curious about the meeting, wants to be cautious, but never to appear intimidated by any over achievers, especially a young woman, a bright woman. Not on my first date please.
He preferred this particular Starbucks coffee shop, it’s a five minutes walk from his office—a consulting firm making big bucks from oil companies. The idea was that the walk from his office to the shop would do him some good; times to contemplate, think things through, and decide on a strategy of approach. More importantly, he needed the exercise.
He leans forward and decides against the impulse to check on the markets. The final bell of trade at the New York stock exchange will sound out in approximately three minutes his time. The same time his date is to make an entry into the coffee shop. No lady wants to see a guy surfing the net on her first date right? He closes the laptop and cases it. With the latest Apple product aside, he can focus on the big task ahead of him: pulling off a first date in person with the woman of his dreams?
He leans backwards again, crosses his legs, makes sure his red silk tie is resting perfectly on his right thigh—an elegant match for his designer pants, the one he got during a seasonal sales at Kohl’s. He places his fingers together forming an inverted V inches away from his nose—that alluring facial feature readily telling everyone at all times of his handsomeness. He starts to think, many thoughts racing through his mind.
The image of his date flashes through him, a vivid image. That photo of her in the Bahamas (A birthday gift from a friend of hers. It was a surprise photo taken by the photographer, the genius behind those enticing billboard images of Victoria Secret’s models, images propelling the craze for lovers, husbands and wana-be lovers disguising as romance connoisseurs, who flood Victoria Secret’s stores wanting to buy that special gift for their-one-and-only). It’s a perfect image, one that he approves and looking forward to match up to. In her two-piece bikini, flashing a healthy smile, a slight sunlight that enhances the glow of her body and exotic skin color, plus the heaven-like beach in the background, makes it a memorable image in his mind. An image of delight—a tease, a classy appeal, glamour, invitation and dreams rolled up in one. He sees in that image liveliness, a romance in heaven. What a concept.
The music playing in the background had changed from a love song by a well-known singer he can’t pinpoint (Al Green, Barry White? he has no clue), to an instrumental rendition of ‘Ballerina Girl’, the Spanish guitar plucking the melody in that spirit of L’Amore understood by those who’ve been affected by the spell of romance ushered by the Mediterranean lure of Costa del Sol. He looks to his right and sights a couple two seats away, grooving to the music. From their mannerisms, he could tell they were newly weds. Look at that, him fixing her hair, both of them drinking a tall mocha from the same cup, how romantic.
He looks at his watch, three minutes gone. Anticipation has a way of prolonging time, stretching it almost to the reach of eternity. The coffee shop wasn’t busy—very unusual for the day and time. Most of the orders were coming from the drive thru—too slow as well. Since he stepped into the shop, apart from the lovey-dovey couple, the only person who came in was a guy in a black leather jacket, wearing the same designer pants he would have won if not for the red tie (the stripes would have been competing with the tie, too flashy). He thought, what a coincidence of dressing it would have been. He had paid 35 bucks for those same pants instead of the original tag price of $125 (one of the things he learned from her). The guy gave him a what’s-up nod, and he responded with a how-do-you-do nod and out the door, the guy was gone. He has good taste in dressing; I dig his style, highly metropolitan.
Back on his watch, four minutes had elapsed. In a minute his lady will make an entrance. Those glass doors will open, and thoughts started speeding through his mind. What will be his first reaction, the first impression of her on a face-to-face encounter? Will she come across as a confident, I know-what-I-want-and-I-am-going-for-it kind of woman who loves surprise gifts? Will she be as lively as she appears in that photo of hers with her multiracial and diverse ethnic friends in a trendy nightspot in South beach? Or will she be a snob, enjoy a cup of coffee with him, polite in conversation and then say goodbye? Never to be seen again, change her location, delete him as a friend on Myspace, even leave the country? Some of the options will never happen to him he concludes, but shit happens you know!
Catching himself swearing in his head, he wipes his face, changes his pose from a consultant-minded, risk calculation frame of mind, to the posture of a sweetheart waiting for his beloved. At this state, the mystery of her choice of location is mind-boggling. Coffee shop for a first date? He cannot wrap his brains around that choice. She had basically given him two choices: a coffee shop or a bookstore. He opted for the coffee shop since it’s a walking distance from his job site. Knowing that, she begged him not to come with his car.
“Call me superstitious or crazy, the kind of car you drive tells of the kind of relationship you will have.”
No further explanation. She wanted to prove wrong her theory based on the experience of her past relationships.
“Please I beg you don’t come with your car. Would you do that for me honey?”
“Yes I will,” end of story.
If they decide to go somewhere else, they’ll ride in her car, described as
“Not too fancy or too ghetto either, just perfect for the woman I Am.”
No further details.
From the conversations they’ve had over the phone, online chats, and sometimes-phony text messages, he knows she is a lady of refined taste, cultured, intelligent, funny and vivacious. She had educated him on the excellent offerings of fine cuisine, where to shop for the best chocolate in town (his most delectable weak spot to a point of addiction), how to spot an elegant apparel and pay less for it, and so many other things about life that she says,
“Experience and Association has blessed me with.”
But why will she settle for a coffee shop or a bookstore for a first date? Why not a porch outing—a limousine tour of the metro, an evening serenaded by the best live Jazz music the city can offer? Go to a theater or listen to classical opera, sitting on those elite balconies? Why not a trip to the conservatory for an eclectic encounter with the symphony? Or a romantic dinner in that revolving restaurant so famous for its zest? And off course why not a get away to the Caribbean—that land of her utmost adoration?
This he could not decipher, but content that in a minute some of his questions will be answered as soon as she walks in through those glass doors.
The jolly couple exits the building, clinging to each other like lovebirds in a nest on a cozy afternoon of blue skies and refreshing breeze. The waiter with a ponytail is busy laughing with another red-faced employee, with a true sign of blush flashing all over her face. He must have said something real flattering to cause her to blush so… Throngs of birds fly by and swarm a tree of red leaves close to the window. The music slows down to Nat King Cole, he hums the words “…it will be forever…” inaudibly.
As soon as the song subsides, there is a pause, everything in the room seems to be in a trance of anticipation, the world around him is streaming to a moment, and the universe is playing along. He looks at his watch, five minutes to the dot. He gives the whole room a quick glance; the corner of his eye catches a figure approaching the glass doors. He turns his whole body and focuses on her entrance. She is on time. She swings the door open, sees him standing, mesmerized as if she is from another planet—that planet of dazzling models and charming souls. He opens his mouth, his heart throbs, the wait is over, and the words came out, “Maria!!!!” his mind beeps: a creature nonpareil.
He opens the glass doors to the coffee shop, steps in and looks for available seats. He decides to settle on one of the two blue sofas separated by an embellished coffee table tucked at a corner as if on purpose: an ideal seating for two lovers to chart their love lives while listening to soothing music, and encouraged to bare their souls with each sip by that scent—an aroma that awakens the taste buds of every Starbucks customer; taking them to the door steps of their nighttime dreams.
He dusts the seat with a handkerchief, reclines to the far right, adjusts for comfort, and makes sure his red silk tie is in place, before reaching for his super fast laptop that had been begging to be used. It’s his latest toy, customized to his liking, delivered by a polite-face FedEx employee. He had signed the delivery sheet with the sheer excitement of an innocent boy. He opens his laptop and streams to the Internet, launches his Myspace account, and scrolls down the names of his friends and clicks on the profile of his date to double-check.
Not that he isn’t familiar with who she is as exhibited by her profile description, numerous photos, Blog messages, and phone conversations that stretched to the wee hours of the morning; he wants to look at her photos to imbed her image before it gets secluded to the world of memory. In a few minutes he’ll see her in person for the first time. Everything is going to change?
The question running through his mind like a jet on a runway is: Is she all that she is? He leans back, rubs his palms and slides them between his ears to make his hair look sleek, wipes his face, and then beams forth a demeanor—a pose of an assured young man, highly accomplished, a veritable gentleman in an age of virtual feats.
He looks at his wrist watch (Versace with diamond initials BNG) two minutes had elapsed. That fast?
“ I just came in seconds ago.”
He is curious about the meeting, wants to be cautious, but never to appear intimidated by any over achievers, especially a young woman, a bright woman. Not on my first date please.
He preferred this particular Starbucks coffee shop, it’s a five minutes walk from his office—a consulting firm making big bucks from oil companies. The idea was that the walk from his office to the shop would do him some good; times to contemplate, think things through, and decide on a strategy of approach. More importantly, he needed the exercise.
He leans forward and decides against the impulse to check on the markets. The final bell of trade at the New York stock exchange will sound out in approximately three minutes his time. The same time his date is to make an entry into the coffee shop. No lady wants to see a guy surfing the net on her first date right? He closes the laptop and cases it. With the latest Apple product aside, he can focus on the big task ahead of him: pulling off a first date in person with the woman of his dreams?
He leans backwards again, crosses his legs, makes sure his red silk tie is resting perfectly on his right thigh—an elegant match for his designer pants, the one he got during a seasonal sales at Kohl’s. He places his fingers together forming an inverted V inches away from his nose—that alluring facial feature readily telling everyone at all times of his handsomeness. He starts to think, many thoughts racing through his mind.
The image of his date flashes through him, a vivid image. That photo of her in the Bahamas (A birthday gift from a friend of hers. It was a surprise photo taken by the photographer, the genius behind those enticing billboard images of Victoria Secret’s models, images propelling the craze for lovers, husbands and wana-be lovers disguising as romance connoisseurs, who flood Victoria Secret’s stores wanting to buy that special gift for their-one-and-only). It’s a perfect image, one that he approves and looking forward to match up to. In her two-piece bikini, flashing a healthy smile, a slight sunlight that enhances the glow of her body and exotic skin color, plus the heaven-like beach in the background, makes it a memorable image in his mind. An image of delight—a tease, a classy appeal, glamour, invitation and dreams rolled up in one. He sees in that image liveliness, a romance in heaven. What a concept.
The music playing in the background had changed from a love song by a well-known singer he can’t pinpoint (Al Green, Barry White? he has no clue), to an instrumental rendition of ‘Ballerina Girl’, the Spanish guitar plucking the melody in that spirit of L’Amore understood by those who’ve been affected by the spell of romance ushered by the Mediterranean lure of Costa del Sol. He looks to his right and sights a couple two seats away, grooving to the music. From their mannerisms, he could tell they were newly weds. Look at that, him fixing her hair, both of them drinking a tall mocha from the same cup, how romantic.
He looks at his watch, three minutes gone. Anticipation has a way of prolonging time, stretching it almost to the reach of eternity. The coffee shop wasn’t busy—very unusual for the day and time. Most of the orders were coming from the drive thru—too slow as well. Since he stepped into the shop, apart from the lovey-dovey couple, the only person who came in was a guy in a black leather jacket, wearing the same designer pants he would have won if not for the red tie (the stripes would have been competing with the tie, too flashy). He thought, what a coincidence of dressing it would have been. He had paid 35 bucks for those same pants instead of the original tag price of $125 (one of the things he learned from her). The guy gave him a what’s-up nod, and he responded with a how-do-you-do nod and out the door, the guy was gone. He has good taste in dressing; I dig his style, highly metropolitan.
Back on his watch, four minutes had elapsed. In a minute his lady will make an entrance. Those glass doors will open, and thoughts started speeding through his mind. What will be his first reaction, the first impression of her on a face-to-face encounter? Will she come across as a confident, I know-what-I-want-and-I-am-going-for-it kind of woman who loves surprise gifts? Will she be as lively as she appears in that photo of hers with her multiracial and diverse ethnic friends in a trendy nightspot in South beach? Or will she be a snob, enjoy a cup of coffee with him, polite in conversation and then say goodbye? Never to be seen again, change her location, delete him as a friend on Myspace, even leave the country? Some of the options will never happen to him he concludes, but shit happens you know!
Catching himself swearing in his head, he wipes his face, changes his pose from a consultant-minded, risk calculation frame of mind, to the posture of a sweetheart waiting for his beloved. At this state, the mystery of her choice of location is mind-boggling. Coffee shop for a first date? He cannot wrap his brains around that choice. She had basically given him two choices: a coffee shop or a bookstore. He opted for the coffee shop since it’s a walking distance from his job site. Knowing that, she begged him not to come with his car.
“Call me superstitious or crazy, the kind of car you drive tells of the kind of relationship you will have.”
No further explanation. She wanted to prove wrong her theory based on the experience of her past relationships.
“Please I beg you don’t come with your car. Would you do that for me honey?”
“Yes I will,” end of story.
If they decide to go somewhere else, they’ll ride in her car, described as
“Not too fancy or too ghetto either, just perfect for the woman I Am.”
No further details.
From the conversations they’ve had over the phone, online chats, and sometimes-phony text messages, he knows she is a lady of refined taste, cultured, intelligent, funny and vivacious. She had educated him on the excellent offerings of fine cuisine, where to shop for the best chocolate in town (his most delectable weak spot to a point of addiction), how to spot an elegant apparel and pay less for it, and so many other things about life that she says,
“Experience and Association has blessed me with.”
But why will she settle for a coffee shop or a bookstore for a first date? Why not a porch outing—a limousine tour of the metro, an evening serenaded by the best live Jazz music the city can offer? Go to a theater or listen to classical opera, sitting on those elite balconies? Why not a trip to the conservatory for an eclectic encounter with the symphony? Or a romantic dinner in that revolving restaurant so famous for its zest? And off course why not a get away to the Caribbean—that land of her utmost adoration?
This he could not decipher, but content that in a minute some of his questions will be answered as soon as she walks in through those glass doors.
The jolly couple exits the building, clinging to each other like lovebirds in a nest on a cozy afternoon of blue skies and refreshing breeze. The waiter with a ponytail is busy laughing with another red-faced employee, with a true sign of blush flashing all over her face. He must have said something real flattering to cause her to blush so… Throngs of birds fly by and swarm a tree of red leaves close to the window. The music slows down to Nat King Cole, he hums the words “…it will be forever…” inaudibly.
As soon as the song subsides, there is a pause, everything in the room seems to be in a trance of anticipation, the world around him is streaming to a moment, and the universe is playing along. He looks at his watch, five minutes to the dot. He gives the whole room a quick glance; the corner of his eye catches a figure approaching the glass doors. He turns his whole body and focuses on her entrance. She is on time. She swings the door open, sees him standing, mesmerized as if she is from another planet—that planet of dazzling models and charming souls. He opens his mouth, his heart throbs, the wait is over, and the words came out, “Maria!!!!” his mind beeps: a creature nonpareil.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Journal
The journal is that special place where we transform thoughts, actions and other aspects of life into a language that we consider best expresses the observation, maintains the record, etcetera.
Its actually a fascinating process: there are millions of thoughts running through our minds, a host of actions taking place, behaviors and patterns, and so on and so forth. How do we select what to write in our journals? What influences us to jot down a thought today, cascade over a favorite quote tomorrow, revisit a darling moment the next day, and then reminisce in subsequent lines? Why is there a pattern in what we journal?
Does it reflect our personality or is it a revelation thereof? When you go back and pick up that leather cover journal and dust it off; open its pages, read a few lines here and there, or gleam through specific notations, can it still bring out the same emotions that prompted its recording years ago? Or does it offer clues to an understanding of yourself today; things you missed in the past? Does it drive you into regrets or does regret itself becomes pity of a sad decision? Does it propel you into action, to make a change and foster an incredible belief in your strengths?
The journal itself as an entity has its own life doesn't it? It grows from rambles, blurbs of words and sentences, to phrases cramped into meaningful expositions, which in time becomes an historical witness
(Yes on the twenty first of March 1804 I had boiled eggs and potato salad that made my stomach growled in agony. I wish I had the courage to tell that girl who invited me for dinner that she is a lousy cook. I wonder what she'll be cooking when she is twenty. It's over with her)
The Journal is our friend at least to some of us, and to others, more than a friend. We can talk (in writing off course), lash out at her, reveal our most private/intimate thoughts whether sublime or plain nasty. The best listener she is. We can talk and talk (write and write) till ink runs dry and yet she would still be waiting for more. She is the one who lets us flesh out our anger and frustration, celebrate our glories and achievements, question our motives, defend our manners, destroy and rebuild.
She says nothing but takes it all; all emotions to her are spills of ink in all its fancy manifestations. However, she gives those very spills back to us into packages of intelligent, carefully orchestrated responses that resurges, vivifies, clarifies and invigorates (At least that's what we think we are getting).
No matter how we put it, it's always different from the worlds of thought to the flow in our journals. Something magical happens as soon as those thoughts are penned within her confines. She does something that encompasses us; who we are, where we are heading to, where we stand as individuals, vis-à-vis our world and the universe.
It doesn't say it's a mirror image of our personality (Whoa! I didn't know mum was such thoughtful human being. When we were young she was always playing with us like we were her buddies. She was always playful, never knew she had time for deep thoughts. I tell you! Her journal is freaking awesome. I wish she were still alive)
Nor does it point out the mirage of our dreams, or does it even surrogate the myriad impasse for validation. The least and the best she can do is take our words, sentences, phrases, paragraphs as an ink imprint in whatever form we decide to record it, to be left for interpretation by posterity or hidden in the locks of memoirs as a thread to eternity. Vivre le Journal.
Its actually a fascinating process: there are millions of thoughts running through our minds, a host of actions taking place, behaviors and patterns, and so on and so forth. How do we select what to write in our journals? What influences us to jot down a thought today, cascade over a favorite quote tomorrow, revisit a darling moment the next day, and then reminisce in subsequent lines? Why is there a pattern in what we journal?
Does it reflect our personality or is it a revelation thereof? When you go back and pick up that leather cover journal and dust it off; open its pages, read a few lines here and there, or gleam through specific notations, can it still bring out the same emotions that prompted its recording years ago? Or does it offer clues to an understanding of yourself today; things you missed in the past? Does it drive you into regrets or does regret itself becomes pity of a sad decision? Does it propel you into action, to make a change and foster an incredible belief in your strengths?
The journal itself as an entity has its own life doesn't it? It grows from rambles, blurbs of words and sentences, to phrases cramped into meaningful expositions, which in time becomes an historical witness
(Yes on the twenty first of March 1804 I had boiled eggs and potato salad that made my stomach growled in agony. I wish I had the courage to tell that girl who invited me for dinner that she is a lousy cook. I wonder what she'll be cooking when she is twenty. It's over with her)
The Journal is our friend at least to some of us, and to others, more than a friend. We can talk (in writing off course), lash out at her, reveal our most private/intimate thoughts whether sublime or plain nasty. The best listener she is. We can talk and talk (write and write) till ink runs dry and yet she would still be waiting for more. She is the one who lets us flesh out our anger and frustration, celebrate our glories and achievements, question our motives, defend our manners, destroy and rebuild.
She says nothing but takes it all; all emotions to her are spills of ink in all its fancy manifestations. However, she gives those very spills back to us into packages of intelligent, carefully orchestrated responses that resurges, vivifies, clarifies and invigorates (At least that's what we think we are getting).
No matter how we put it, it's always different from the worlds of thought to the flow in our journals. Something magical happens as soon as those thoughts are penned within her confines. She does something that encompasses us; who we are, where we are heading to, where we stand as individuals, vis-à-vis our world and the universe.
It doesn't say it's a mirror image of our personality (Whoa! I didn't know mum was such thoughtful human being. When we were young she was always playing with us like we were her buddies. She was always playful, never knew she had time for deep thoughts. I tell you! Her journal is freaking awesome. I wish she were still alive)
Nor does it point out the mirage of our dreams, or does it even surrogate the myriad impasse for validation. The least and the best she can do is take our words, sentences, phrases, paragraphs as an ink imprint in whatever form we decide to record it, to be left for interpretation by posterity or hidden in the locks of memoirs as a thread to eternity. Vivre le Journal.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Let the Music Playing
Have you ever waited for something so long that your heart hurtS?
Yep you might be thinking Ah that guy has finally fell in Love with his hearts-desire. Nope that is not it. Keep trying. In that department I am still searching-- another good excuse right there. Don't blame me, just take care of my heart. I know she is out there. Mmm where is this going?
Yes you got it. AH NO You missed the right guess once more.
From May 2006 when the band The Light Combo did a live recording at the Train Depot in Norman-OK till October, my heart has been anxiously waiting to see the design and all the funky stuff that goes on a CD. And finally I saw it and heard the music. Yes I am at ease now. I can tell everyone who asked me the question "Do you have a CD?" Yes I do. There is one right here, would you like a copy for your listening pleasure?
Mmm Music takes my soul to places, spaces and beyond. To worlds as far as my soul can soar. So please Keep the Music playing and if you want to add to your collection of Inspiring music give The Light Combo a holler.
You might see me in your backyard playing the Drums. AH yes Music, Music Music, What will I do without you?
Yep you might be thinking Ah that guy has finally fell in Love with his hearts-desire. Nope that is not it. Keep trying. In that department I am still searching-- another good excuse right there. Don't blame me, just take care of my heart. I know she is out there. Mmm where is this going?
Yes you got it. AH NO You missed the right guess once more.
From May 2006 when the band The Light Combo did a live recording at the Train Depot in Norman-OK till October, my heart has been anxiously waiting to see the design and all the funky stuff that goes on a CD. And finally I saw it and heard the music. Yes I am at ease now. I can tell everyone who asked me the question "Do you have a CD?" Yes I do. There is one right here, would you like a copy for your listening pleasure?
Mmm Music takes my soul to places, spaces and beyond. To worlds as far as my soul can soar. So please Keep the Music playing and if you want to add to your collection of Inspiring music give The Light Combo a holler.
You might see me in your backyard playing the Drums. AH yes Music, Music Music, What will I do without you?
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Southern Breeze
Being in NABI-The Native American Bahai Institute has been a time of inspiration, fun and excitment. I thought it appropriate to share with you what I wrote for their Newsletter coming out soon.
Southern Breeze
In Yukon-OK, at the home of a young interracial couple, a group of friends sit around a table enjoying freshly brewed Persian tea with goodies taking pleasure in the strengths of friendship as they study Book Four.
In Albuquerque-NM, in a gorgeous house facing the Watermelon Mountains, a handsome number of diverse participants gather for a devotional gathering, followed by a musical fireside on “The Greatness of this Day.”
Under pretty blue skies and the wafting of refreshing breeze, in a park in Santa Fe-NM, young adult collaborators of a Book One study circle say prayers with family and friends, enjoy a hearty breakfast, and listen to live music that combines African rhythms with the haunting sounds of the Didgeridoo (An Australian wooden pipe musical instrument).
At a retirement community building in Taos-NM, elderly folks get together to complete Book Two in an atmosphere of joy, laughter, conversation plus singing.
An assembly of mostly Native people of the Navajo Nation offer praises to the Great Spirit in different languages, in the Prayer Hogan (That Sacred and Spiritual circle at NABI), sharing stories and later on has a delicious meal in a spirit of cheerfulness and gratitude.
I was blessed to visit these Bahá'í communities recently, and felt privileged to be part of the above mentioned activities. I think the catchphrase behind a blue van at the NABI campus that clearly states, “Got RUHI?” summarizes the outlook and motivation of the friends who are involved in the core activities of the Five Year Plan, and it’s even more fitting to say “Got Core Activities?” (Smiley faces).
Having the bounty of traveling around the U.S and more recently the South West; it’s a source of great joy to experience and see first hand the magic and transforming power of the Institute process. The involvement of the friends and communities who enthusiastically carry out core activities (Study Circles, Devotional Gatherings, Children’s Classes and Junior Youth Classes) and their allied achievements is beyond expression. “People are more unified, they are focused on the institute process and eagerly prepare for Entry by Troops,” are the words of a youth in Santa Fe which echoes the brilliant changes the Institute process brings to a community.
When I posed the question, “What changes do you see in your community as a result of the Institute process?” the response from a young adult in Santa Fe was, “A LOT.” With a voice of contentment she continued, “We have a community of many Bahá’ís participating in one, two or more activities regularly, instead of a community of a few burned out Bahá’ís who had to participate in all community activities… I feel more comfortable inviting my non-Bahá'í friends to study circles where they can share and learn directly from the Holy Writings rather than the interpretations of individuals… since the friends are busy with core activities, it leaves no time for backbiting (another laugh of satisfaction).”
In all the communities I have been to, from the suburbs of Chicago to the mountains of Arizona, the friends exude a confidence second to none. They see a bright future and they know their investment in the Ruhi courses, core activities and goals of the Five Year Plan; be it in kind, cash, sweat and blood (Yes! some youth have bled for the core activities) will yield incredible rewards. In the words of my interviewees from Santa Fe; the youth affirms, “I pray for more youth involvement. The future of our community is bright.” The young adult concludes, “I see my community growing, ready and executing Intensive Growth Programs, becoming a recognized group in Santa Fe and providing valuable services to the general community.” Feelings I wish for all Bahá'í communities.
As I listen to the birds sing early in the morning, watch inspirational sunrises and sunsets, gaze at the majesty of nearby mountains, witness the color changes of Ponderosas, pray and meditate in the prayer Hogan with NABI staff, I am convinced and thrilled to learn that the next community I am honored to visit, is passionately working to establish God’s Kingdom on earth one core activity at a time. The Beloved Universal House of Justice declares, “The elements required for a concerted effort to infuse the diverse regions of the world with the spirit of Baha’u’llah’s Revelation have crystallized into a framework for action that now needs only to be exploited.” So! Got your Core Activities Yet?
In His Service,
Gustaff Besungu.
Southern Breeze
In Yukon-OK, at the home of a young interracial couple, a group of friends sit around a table enjoying freshly brewed Persian tea with goodies taking pleasure in the strengths of friendship as they study Book Four.
In Albuquerque-NM, in a gorgeous house facing the Watermelon Mountains, a handsome number of diverse participants gather for a devotional gathering, followed by a musical fireside on “The Greatness of this Day.”
Under pretty blue skies and the wafting of refreshing breeze, in a park in Santa Fe-NM, young adult collaborators of a Book One study circle say prayers with family and friends, enjoy a hearty breakfast, and listen to live music that combines African rhythms with the haunting sounds of the Didgeridoo (An Australian wooden pipe musical instrument).
At a retirement community building in Taos-NM, elderly folks get together to complete Book Two in an atmosphere of joy, laughter, conversation plus singing.
An assembly of mostly Native people of the Navajo Nation offer praises to the Great Spirit in different languages, in the Prayer Hogan (That Sacred and Spiritual circle at NABI), sharing stories and later on has a delicious meal in a spirit of cheerfulness and gratitude.
I was blessed to visit these Bahá'í communities recently, and felt privileged to be part of the above mentioned activities. I think the catchphrase behind a blue van at the NABI campus that clearly states, “Got RUHI?” summarizes the outlook and motivation of the friends who are involved in the core activities of the Five Year Plan, and it’s even more fitting to say “Got Core Activities?” (Smiley faces).
Having the bounty of traveling around the U.S and more recently the South West; it’s a source of great joy to experience and see first hand the magic and transforming power of the Institute process. The involvement of the friends and communities who enthusiastically carry out core activities (Study Circles, Devotional Gatherings, Children’s Classes and Junior Youth Classes) and their allied achievements is beyond expression. “People are more unified, they are focused on the institute process and eagerly prepare for Entry by Troops,” are the words of a youth in Santa Fe which echoes the brilliant changes the Institute process brings to a community.
When I posed the question, “What changes do you see in your community as a result of the Institute process?” the response from a young adult in Santa Fe was, “A LOT.” With a voice of contentment she continued, “We have a community of many Bahá’ís participating in one, two or more activities regularly, instead of a community of a few burned out Bahá’ís who had to participate in all community activities… I feel more comfortable inviting my non-Bahá'í friends to study circles where they can share and learn directly from the Holy Writings rather than the interpretations of individuals… since the friends are busy with core activities, it leaves no time for backbiting (another laugh of satisfaction).”
In all the communities I have been to, from the suburbs of Chicago to the mountains of Arizona, the friends exude a confidence second to none. They see a bright future and they know their investment in the Ruhi courses, core activities and goals of the Five Year Plan; be it in kind, cash, sweat and blood (Yes! some youth have bled for the core activities) will yield incredible rewards. In the words of my interviewees from Santa Fe; the youth affirms, “I pray for more youth involvement. The future of our community is bright.” The young adult concludes, “I see my community growing, ready and executing Intensive Growth Programs, becoming a recognized group in Santa Fe and providing valuable services to the general community.” Feelings I wish for all Bahá'í communities.
As I listen to the birds sing early in the morning, watch inspirational sunrises and sunsets, gaze at the majesty of nearby mountains, witness the color changes of Ponderosas, pray and meditate in the prayer Hogan with NABI staff, I am convinced and thrilled to learn that the next community I am honored to visit, is passionately working to establish God’s Kingdom on earth one core activity at a time. The Beloved Universal House of Justice declares, “The elements required for a concerted effort to infuse the diverse regions of the world with the spirit of Baha’u’llah’s Revelation have crystallized into a framework for action that now needs only to be exploited.” So! Got your Core Activities Yet?
In His Service,
Gustaff Besungu.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Bahai Service
The friends gathered at the Unitarian Church of Lubbock-TX to participate in a Unity Feast by the Bahais of Lubbock. It was a program to share with friends of the Faith, certain aspects of Bahai worship, to share some principles and Teachings as well.
The program was simple, well organized and fun. There was a brief introduction of the Faith that included History, Teachings and Present conditions of the Bahai friends in Iran. That was follwed by a Devotional program that consisted of reading Holy Writings interspaced by chants, and music performance. After an audience participation in song to close the devotionals, it was time for socializing. The camaraderie was great. It was a nice and wonderful program.
The program was simple, well organized and fun. There was a brief introduction of the Faith that included History, Teachings and Present conditions of the Bahai friends in Iran. That was follwed by a Devotional program that consisted of reading Holy Writings interspaced by chants, and music performance. After an audience participation in song to close the devotionals, it was time for socializing. The camaraderie was great. It was a nice and wonderful program.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
The Light Combo
September 9. 06
The evening was warm, the backyard was green and tidy, and the crowd was vibrant.
It was an evening of joy and merriment. We had gathered to celebrate the pre-release of the CD "Village Nights" by The Light Combo. The band played orginal songs and a good number of cover songs. The crowd danced, they associated with each other and feast on outdoor meals from burgers to potato salad; from soda to ice water.
It was such a blessing to play with my band mates Darrel and Mark after a long time due to my travels. The CD is ready. I cannot wait to start sharing the inspirational songs with the World.
The evening was warm, the backyard was green and tidy, and the crowd was vibrant.
It was an evening of joy and merriment. We had gathered to celebrate the pre-release of the CD "Village Nights" by The Light Combo. The band played orginal songs and a good number of cover songs. The crowd danced, they associated with each other and feast on outdoor meals from burgers to potato salad; from soda to ice water.
It was such a blessing to play with my band mates Darrel and Mark after a long time due to my travels. The CD is ready. I cannot wait to start sharing the inspirational songs with the World.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Traveller as Usual
I spent two weeks in Fayetteville-AR, visiting Ashu in the company of his mother and nephew. It was one of those periods I considered highly creative.
I was able to rewrite and finish the manuscript of a short novel I was working on. The creative juices were flowing so much so that I have started working on another story which will be in the form of a social commentary. Looking forward on how it will turn out. I still have beaucoups of research to do though, but the momentum is there.
Now I am in Oklahoma getting ready for my band The Light Combo to play at a gathering of our friends and fans come Sept. 9. 06. Its going to be fun. That is when we will showcase the release of our live CD 'Village Nights'. A show we did for an Arts N.G.O sometimes back.
From then, I head on to Lubbock Texas for an event and the life of travelling continues.
Raise your hats and pray for your dreams--- You never know They might Come True.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Photography
The Interesting thing about Photography is that it conveys a message in a concise manner but at the same time leaves alot of room for interpretation. It brings objects, subjects and situations into a focus where one can visualize. It educates the world through a combination of angles, speed, light density, apertures and all the technical terms photographers use.In all, the photographer interpretes her surroundings from a certain perspective and can only hope that the lesson is being learned by those who see the photos. Maybe they'll see something that will catch their attention. Something that will intrigue them, something that will enlighten them, something that will elate them and something that will change the way the look at the world. For every photo we see expands our view of our world, giving us a deeper understanding of who we are as individuals, socities, communities and above all Humankind.
Monday, August 07, 2006
A Cry for Change
A cry for Change
In a world full of pain and calamity
Bestial with no amity
Seeking no end to its conformity
Let the words come crying
The world come singing
A joyous song of friendship
In a world full of pain and calamity
Bestial with no amity
Seeking no end to its conformity
Let the words come crying
The world come singing
A joyous song of friendship
When humans are pointlessly slaughtered
On groundless fallacies uttered
With vehement convictions awfully fostered
Let the words come crying
The world come singing
A joyous song of friendship
When children die in poverty
While we care for our property
With no sense of dignity
Let the words come crying
The world come singing
A joyous song of friendship
When women lay bare their body in quantity
In shameless fashion of no magnanimity
Satisfying lustful delight of zero nobility
Let the words come crying
The world come singing
A joyous song of friendship
There is no need to be boastful
Of selfish accomplishments so pitiful
Mindful of no intriguing benefits to being helpful
Let the words come crying
The world come singing
A joyous song of friendship
In an era of overflowing potential
That seeks genuine participation so essential
In peaceful living without being inconsequential
Let the words come crying
The world come singing
A joyous song of friendship
Let the song echo in every locale and neighborhood
In a global reach of our shared human hood
Actions of the believers in universal brotherhood
Let the words come crying
The world come singing
A joyous song of friendship
Monday, July 31, 2006
Where have you been?
You may be asking where is this guy and what is he up to?
I have been to many places recently from Oklahoma to New Mexico and Colorado to California. Now that I am in Dallas-TX after a short visit to Austin-TX, I can tell you that I have been enjoying myself tremendously.
In NM I was enjoying the hospitality of the Navajo people who came to the Bahai Summer School at Kamp Kiwanis. It was five days of reading, studying and socializing. The atmosphere was of spiritual energy, vitality and excitement. The vibrancy of the friends came through their devoted service as clearly exemplified by the children and pre-youth who served meals, did clean-up and participated in activities with such high spirits second to none.
In Modesto-California, I was blessed to be part of the wedding of Cellas and Jamie Awoh Tabe on July 23rd 2006. Their marriage ceremony was a testatment to the principle of Unity in Diversity. He is from Cameroon and she from the U.S.A. While the country was experiencing a heat wave of deadly consequences, these friends were basking in the heat of Love. At the ceremony, prayers and Holy Writings were said in many languages ( Farsi, French, Spanish, English...). Marriage Blessings in Native American and Buddhist cultures was a unique addition to the ceremony. The friends who attended exuded the feelings of joyfulness that I have never witnessed in any marriage ceremony before.Then it was dancing time. We danced like there was no tomorrow and sang a catchy Cameroonian song "On My wedding day".
In Austin-TX it was at the Bahai center that Farid gave a wonderful talk on Human Rights. He stressed the link of the abuse of Women to the spread of terrorism. In simple terms, we cannot ignore the rights of women and hope to have peace. Now is the time to enhance the conditions of women around the world.The three case study he showed of women from Afghanistan, Iran, and Pakistan were really heart-breaking. I thought to myself, that is a mother or a sister suffering like that, so severely for being a woman. Where is the world heading to? It was such a graphic and gripping image of the plight of women.
In San Marcos, Saturday July 29th 2006 it was the 33rd Bahai Annual river float. I had such a great time floating down San Marcos river. The temperature of the water was cold but perfect for the hot weather. In my pimped-out tube given by Anlo, I floated down the river like a tycoon. At the pavillion, fresh beverages were waiting to quench my thirst. After a few conversations here and there with some friends and new faces, it was time for soccer. I played soccer on and off for about three hours. Men!! my bones and muscles got a good deal of it. It was a good match at the end.
I have been to many places recently from Oklahoma to New Mexico and Colorado to California. Now that I am in Dallas-TX after a short visit to Austin-TX, I can tell you that I have been enjoying myself tremendously.
In NM I was enjoying the hospitality of the Navajo people who came to the Bahai Summer School at Kamp Kiwanis. It was five days of reading, studying and socializing. The atmosphere was of spiritual energy, vitality and excitement. The vibrancy of the friends came through their devoted service as clearly exemplified by the children and pre-youth who served meals, did clean-up and participated in activities with such high spirits second to none.
In Modesto-California, I was blessed to be part of the wedding of Cellas and Jamie Awoh Tabe on July 23rd 2006. Their marriage ceremony was a testatment to the principle of Unity in Diversity. He is from Cameroon and she from the U.S.A. While the country was experiencing a heat wave of deadly consequences, these friends were basking in the heat of Love. At the ceremony, prayers and Holy Writings were said in many languages ( Farsi, French, Spanish, English...). Marriage Blessings in Native American and Buddhist cultures was a unique addition to the ceremony. The friends who attended exuded the feelings of joyfulness that I have never witnessed in any marriage ceremony before.Then it was dancing time. We danced like there was no tomorrow and sang a catchy Cameroonian song "On My wedding day".
In Austin-TX it was at the Bahai center that Farid gave a wonderful talk on Human Rights. He stressed the link of the abuse of Women to the spread of terrorism. In simple terms, we cannot ignore the rights of women and hope to have peace. Now is the time to enhance the conditions of women around the world.The three case study he showed of women from Afghanistan, Iran, and Pakistan were really heart-breaking. I thought to myself, that is a mother or a sister suffering like that, so severely for being a woman. Where is the world heading to? It was such a graphic and gripping image of the plight of women.
In San Marcos, Saturday July 29th 2006 it was the 33rd Bahai Annual river float. I had such a great time floating down San Marcos river. The temperature of the water was cold but perfect for the hot weather. In my pimped-out tube given by Anlo, I floated down the river like a tycoon. At the pavillion, fresh beverages were waiting to quench my thirst. After a few conversations here and there with some friends and new faces, it was time for soccer. I played soccer on and off for about three hours. Men!! my bones and muscles got a good deal of it. It was a good match at the end.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Yep!!! You are looking at a selection of photos of the Yellowstone National Park.
The World's first national Park is amazingly beautiful and enchanting. A place for the lovers of nature and outdoors. A place to garner energy and inspiration. A place to see curious tourists, and a place to look for wildlife like children searching for candy.
Well!! My quest was to answer the question- How Yellow is Yellowstone? The stone that gave birth to the popular name Yellowstone is yellow as yellow can be for a rock (Top photo). However, the park is mostly green during this time of the year. I was blessed to drive through this enchanting landscape, Thanks to my hosts- Sharon and Fred Cline of Billings-Montana.
I hope the photos give you an inkling of the beauty of the area. Keep on Travelling and Discovering the world.
Photos:
The Yellow rock that inspired the name Yellowstone
Old Faithful Lodge-A magnificent wood building close to a geyser known as Old Faithful.
Wildlife at the Lamar Valley
Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone.
Monday, June 26, 2006
It was 8 pm on a Friday night, when a young man boarded a Greyhound bus from Oklahoma City to Billings-Montana. After a long ride that composed of chattering with strangers, listening to music from around the world, taking quick stops to energize the body with junk food and liquids, it was time to say Hello to the "Treasure State." Arriving on a Sunday afternoon of blue skies and warm weather, he was glad to step out of the bus and breathe the air of a new State--a State he is visiting for the first time.
Without delay, he claimed his luggage, made a phone call to arrange for his ride and then engaged in a short conversation with a young and hip couple from Orlando-Florida, about the benefits of raising American children in small towns. The couple had their young baby with them. He was the cutest thing ever. His smiling face was even more brilliant when he slept peacefully in his bluish cradle tucked in with soft baby cushions. In his restful sleep, little did he know his parents had decided to raise him in the small town of Missoula-Monatana.
It wasn't long when the glass doors aligned by metal sheets of the bus station slowly opened to reveal the face of the young traveller's ride (Aunty Sharon). Followed by a hug and the greetings "Welcome to Billings..." from Aunty Sharon, was an excited hop into the Dodge van. As the van made its way uphill through a corner, bringing a spectacular view of the rimrocks into clearer focus, the young man noted in his heart, "Three weeks here will be just fantastic... look at that view..." Making things even better, the house where the car pulled into, made his heart pound with fascination.
A gorgeous three levels red wooden house by the rimrocks with well-laid out gardens and a little river (constructed by the owners) flowing in the back yard into a ravine not only enhances the beauty of the surroundings, it also blends with it. The strategically placed living areas with gas fireplaces, rock walls, selected trees and grasses, pathways of concrete, step-ways of alligned rocks that flow out on both sides of the river, creates a breathtaking terrace for the lovers of natural outdoor living, and an inviting retreat that will inspire the minds of both connoisseurs and avid horticulturists.
He was ushered into the house, showed his room and welcomed by friendly faces and a curious dog. In no time he started enjoying the camaraderie of his host family. A good swim and delicous BBQ at the pool of a neighbour, plus the restful sleep he got to rest his tired bones was just a prelude to all the fascinating and enjoyable time he'd be having in the "Treasure State".
Without delay, he claimed his luggage, made a phone call to arrange for his ride and then engaged in a short conversation with a young and hip couple from Orlando-Florida, about the benefits of raising American children in small towns. The couple had their young baby with them. He was the cutest thing ever. His smiling face was even more brilliant when he slept peacefully in his bluish cradle tucked in with soft baby cushions. In his restful sleep, little did he know his parents had decided to raise him in the small town of Missoula-Monatana.
It wasn't long when the glass doors aligned by metal sheets of the bus station slowly opened to reveal the face of the young traveller's ride (Aunty Sharon). Followed by a hug and the greetings "Welcome to Billings..." from Aunty Sharon, was an excited hop into the Dodge van. As the van made its way uphill through a corner, bringing a spectacular view of the rimrocks into clearer focus, the young man noted in his heart, "Three weeks here will be just fantastic... look at that view..." Making things even better, the house where the car pulled into, made his heart pound with fascination.
A gorgeous three levels red wooden house by the rimrocks with well-laid out gardens and a little river (constructed by the owners) flowing in the back yard into a ravine not only enhances the beauty of the surroundings, it also blends with it. The strategically placed living areas with gas fireplaces, rock walls, selected trees and grasses, pathways of concrete, step-ways of alligned rocks that flow out on both sides of the river, creates a breathtaking terrace for the lovers of natural outdoor living, and an inviting retreat that will inspire the minds of both connoisseurs and avid horticulturists.
He was ushered into the house, showed his room and welcomed by friendly faces and a curious dog. In no time he started enjoying the camaraderie of his host family. A good swim and delicous BBQ at the pool of a neighbour, plus the restful sleep he got to rest his tired bones was just a prelude to all the fascinating and enjoyable time he'd be having in the "Treasure State".
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