The evening was turning to a good one, coolly mild. Good jams in the car from world DJ's to Persian pop, kept us hitting the high notes of our musical enjoyment as we drove from Nashville to Knoxville. Smooth drive, less traffic after we've made sure some smoothies take on the responsibility of satisfying our tastes buds while walking the fine line of healthy calories intake.
By the time we arrived the city of Knoxville, the night sky was upon us and a few stars dazzled in distant parts of the horizon. We pulled into a porch neighborhood, parked the car and entered the beautiful house filled with beautiful people of different backgrounds and races. We gave and received welcoming hugs and smiling hellos. No sooner had I relieved my tired legs, before I was kindly ushered into an adjacent room to the kitchen, were to the satisfaction of my gastronomic dreams, before my eyes, a spread of Persian dishes were beckoning for consumption.
From the sabzi polo (rice with dill, cilantro and green onions) , zereshk polo (rice with berries) to the salad, plus the sweet chicken, my plate was filled. I sat down to good conversation, happily eating away the fine foods. Which made it easier for me to follow the presentation of the evening: a fantastic presentation (with visuals) on the significance of the year 1844 by Joel Price.
By the time the night was over, the camaraderie, the joy of meeting old friends, the pleasure of making new friends, and that air of "Its Good to be here" had enveloped my being, and I knew from then on my stay in Knoxville and surrounding communities was going to be great.
And Great Indeed it was. The colorful trees and hills of the area was as colorful as the welcoming spirit of the friends here. Their gratefulness, enthusiasm, hospitality and above all, a high spirit of service to humanity, makes it an inestimable Blessing to be in their midst.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Monday, October 08, 2007
Chicken Wings and TV
There is a time when ones attachment to TV is crushed by the sheer number of available TV's and programs. E.g the case of a sports bar in Pensacola Beach- FL.
I love TV, and rank it as one of the greatest invention of modern man including internet and cell phones, but when there is so many TV's around me displaying many programs at the same time, when I am supposed to concentrate on how flavor-full my teraki chicken wings are; I can't handle that.
Adding to the multiple screen displays I was surrounded by, was the loud volumes of the sets, the deafning cheers of football fans rooting for their teams, and most annoying, the odd variety of music playing clamorously in the "background".
This, after an intense enjoyment of waves splashing on my body, salty ocean water cleaning my taste buds, salinating my flesh, and the Florida sunshine basking some much needed tan on my skin (hahahaha). I love Vacation spots
I love TV, and rank it as one of the greatest invention of modern man including internet and cell phones, but when there is so many TV's around me displaying many programs at the same time, when I am supposed to concentrate on how flavor-full my teraki chicken wings are; I can't handle that.
Adding to the multiple screen displays I was surrounded by, was the loud volumes of the sets, the deafning cheers of football fans rooting for their teams, and most annoying, the odd variety of music playing clamorously in the "background".
This, after an intense enjoyment of waves splashing on my body, salty ocean water cleaning my taste buds, salinating my flesh, and the Florida sunshine basking some much needed tan on my skin (hahahaha). I love Vacation spots
Monday, September 24, 2007
An Operatic taste
My late Sunday morning was fast becoming a lazy one, and the fact that Chelsea lost to Manchester United 0- 2 wasn't going to help either.
Then came that phone call,
"Gustaff would you want to watch a live simulcast of an Opera at the arts center?"
I immediately agreed for the benefit of having some fresh air and participate in something I have never done before-- watch an Opera.
Opera to me: was listening to the radio and hear high pitched vocals and trained tenors sing out sad love stories in Italian. And it was a hobby of Old rich people who didn't know what to do with their spare time. End of story.
That all changed after watching the live simulcast of La Boheme
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_boh%C3%A8me
It was a performance at the Washington DC Opera house, and I was watching it in Gainesville-FL--Thanks Technology!!!!!
I enjoyed it mostly because it was a passionate love story with intricate lessons. A poet falls for a seamstress who dies at the end because of an illness? In addition to that, there is Marcello my favorite guy-- he is the photographer (A painter in the original version as written by Puccini) whose love story is filled with broken hearts, with a good sense of humour.
The director of the show gave the original an update, bringing the characters lives similar to modern days. A milky-white couch as a prominent stage prop--something the college students can relate to, symbolizes college life and all that associates with it.
The goal of the simulcast to Universities and High schools across the country was to reach out to the younger generation and get them interested in Opera.
I would say for sure, they got that goal met. From that Sunday afternoon September 23 2007 at the Phillips Arts cennter then on, Opera is no longer a hobby for old rich people who don't know what to do with their spare time. Opera is more of a passionate and lively display of love stories?
Then came that phone call,
"Gustaff would you want to watch a live simulcast of an Opera at the arts center?"
I immediately agreed for the benefit of having some fresh air and participate in something I have never done before-- watch an Opera.
Opera to me: was listening to the radio and hear high pitched vocals and trained tenors sing out sad love stories in Italian. And it was a hobby of Old rich people who didn't know what to do with their spare time. End of story.
That all changed after watching the live simulcast of La Boheme
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_boh%C3%A8me
It was a performance at the Washington DC Opera house, and I was watching it in Gainesville-FL--Thanks Technology!!!!!
I enjoyed it mostly because it was a passionate love story with intricate lessons. A poet falls for a seamstress who dies at the end because of an illness? In addition to that, there is Marcello my favorite guy-- he is the photographer (A painter in the original version as written by Puccini) whose love story is filled with broken hearts, with a good sense of humour.
The director of the show gave the original an update, bringing the characters lives similar to modern days. A milky-white couch as a prominent stage prop--something the college students can relate to, symbolizes college life and all that associates with it.
The goal of the simulcast to Universities and High schools across the country was to reach out to the younger generation and get them interested in Opera.
I would say for sure, they got that goal met. From that Sunday afternoon September 23 2007 at the Phillips Arts cennter then on, Opera is no longer a hobby for old rich people who don't know what to do with their spare time. Opera is more of a passionate and lively display of love stories?
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Shadows
Shadows on the walls
Of no reflection
Crawling along a hollow path
Of diced bricks, cobbled with pointy rocks
Leading into a dark room
Filled with the stench of misery and abandon
Memories of hate and famine crouching
On the faces of wasted hangers
Piles and heaps of dirt flirting
With the angers of scavenging insects
Who’ve built an empire of a flourishing garden
On the foundations of a desk of fine carpentry
With an inside rot giving way to the tempo of collapse
Shadows on a wall
Of no reflection
Rages on the backs of a mountain
Of macho granite crushed into sand dunes
By the fancies of flamboyant storms
Memories of hate and drudgery
Plastered as rickety carvings
Waiting to be swept into oblivion
By the bulldozers of woeful codes
Of no reflection
Crawling along a hollow path
Of diced bricks, cobbled with pointy rocks
Leading into a dark room
Filled with the stench of misery and abandon
Memories of hate and famine crouching
On the faces of wasted hangers
Piles and heaps of dirt flirting
With the angers of scavenging insects
Who’ve built an empire of a flourishing garden
On the foundations of a desk of fine carpentry
With an inside rot giving way to the tempo of collapse
Shadows on a wall
Of no reflection
Rages on the backs of a mountain
Of macho granite crushed into sand dunes
By the fancies of flamboyant storms
Memories of hate and drudgery
Plastered as rickety carvings
Waiting to be swept into oblivion
By the bulldozers of woeful codes
Sunday, September 02, 2007
May It Be
There are times when you think things are not moving along
When you scratch your head for answers, but get more questions
When the path is narrow, dark and uncertain
When you think that the journey you've undertaken isn't worth the patience
And that your input and energy may have been of waste,
But
When your heart is still connected to your Life's goal
And your dreams are alive
And you are certain and believe in the Goodness
Of your sincere endeavours,
With glorious certitude,
The light will shine and bring you the dawn
You'll see the glimpse of a day of abounding Grace
And
Through your moments of meditation and reflection,
You wont give up.
Someone did an incredible job, visually bringing to live a wonderful song by Enya. A song filled with Hope, evokes Beauty and the reach of a Promise.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ww8wqEgFIA8&mode=related&search=
Hope by sharing this, Your soul will be uplifted in your moments of Meditation and Reflection and keep you grounded in your Life's goal.
When you scratch your head for answers, but get more questions
When the path is narrow, dark and uncertain
When you think that the journey you've undertaken isn't worth the patience
And that your input and energy may have been of waste,
But
When your heart is still connected to your Life's goal
And your dreams are alive
And you are certain and believe in the Goodness
Of your sincere endeavours,
With glorious certitude,
The light will shine and bring you the dawn
You'll see the glimpse of a day of abounding Grace
And
Through your moments of meditation and reflection,
You wont give up.
Someone did an incredible job, visually bringing to live a wonderful song by Enya. A song filled with Hope, evokes Beauty and the reach of a Promise.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ww8wqEgFIA8&mode=related&search=
Hope by sharing this, Your soul will be uplifted in your moments of Meditation and Reflection and keep you grounded in your Life's goal.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Light on Her Face
In an empty room
A half-naked kid leans
On a shattered wall
Riddled by shells and bullets
Darkness over her frail body
Subtle lightning on her face
Mother, father, sister and brother
Lie lifeless on the floor
Their white clothes colored in blood
Where’s the light
Within this heartless scheme
What’s this light
Where is the promise of salvation
Her painful tears
Shake off the worst her eyes have seen
The quiet sounds of Peace,
A distant Cry of her Dream
Her hands consoles
Her patched lips,
Reminding her belly not to wait for food
For Cornmeal days are over
Gone with the sounds of Hawks
She knows her day is near
But she dives through the crumbling windowpane
To seek the source of light shining on her face
Where’s the light
Within this heartless scheme
What’s this light
Where is the promise of salvation
A half-naked kid leans
On a shattered wall
Riddled by shells and bullets
Darkness over her frail body
Subtle lightning on her face
Mother, father, sister and brother
Lie lifeless on the floor
Their white clothes colored in blood
Where’s the light
Within this heartless scheme
What’s this light
Where is the promise of salvation
Her painful tears
Shake off the worst her eyes have seen
The quiet sounds of Peace,
A distant Cry of her Dream
Her hands consoles
Her patched lips,
Reminding her belly not to wait for food
For Cornmeal days are over
Gone with the sounds of Hawks
She knows her day is near
But she dives through the crumbling windowpane
To seek the source of light shining on her face
Where’s the light
Within this heartless scheme
What’s this light
Where is the promise of salvation
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Kindness of a Stranger
There are times when having enough one dollar bills in hand is worth more than the fifty dollar bill in your wallet.
Yep that happened to me on Sunday Aug.26.07. I woke up that morming- very early, unusually early (6AM), got ready so as to catch the trirail from West Palm Beach to Ft. Lauderdale-FL. I got to the ticket place hoping to see a human being selling tickets, instead I found a machine (I had forgotten I was in the U.S.A-hahahaha). I looked into my wallet, there was two dollars and one fifty dollar bill. At that moment the fifty dollar bill was useless since the machine does not accept anything above twenty.
The cost of my fare? four dollars. I looked around, asking the nearest guy behind me if he coud lend me two dollars, he had nothing, just his fare amount. Looking desperate, another guy who had overheard me asking for two dollars, came up and gave me two dollars, saying I should not worry about it.
Yep!!! I got my ticket and walked to the platform to wait for the train. I was moved by his kindness that I thought he deserved something. Since I had with me my drum and music CD's, I gave him one and thanked him enormously. We stroke a short conversation, just before the train made its arrival.
I hopped in and sat thinking to myself, what a way to start a Sunday morning.
Yep that happened to me on Sunday Aug.26.07. I woke up that morming- very early, unusually early (6AM), got ready so as to catch the trirail from West Palm Beach to Ft. Lauderdale-FL. I got to the ticket place hoping to see a human being selling tickets, instead I found a machine (I had forgotten I was in the U.S.A-hahahaha). I looked into my wallet, there was two dollars and one fifty dollar bill. At that moment the fifty dollar bill was useless since the machine does not accept anything above twenty.
The cost of my fare? four dollars. I looked around, asking the nearest guy behind me if he coud lend me two dollars, he had nothing, just his fare amount. Looking desperate, another guy who had overheard me asking for two dollars, came up and gave me two dollars, saying I should not worry about it.
Yep!!! I got my ticket and walked to the platform to wait for the train. I was moved by his kindness that I thought he deserved something. Since I had with me my drum and music CD's, I gave him one and thanked him enormously. We stroke a short conversation, just before the train made its arrival.
I hopped in and sat thinking to myself, what a way to start a Sunday morning.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
In the Middle of the Lake
He was at the middle of the lake loafing over the gentle waves in a kayak he had paddled all the way. The breeze tingling his tightly curled hair, that has been begging the visit of a comb since the official announcement of the hurricane season.
An island forty five hard-stroke paddles away, flourishes in trees and shrubs of a tropical caliber he has no clue what they are. Pines maybe? The spread of a golf course, bike paths and well intentioned green lawns that make up the park, contrast the water, posing as a fantastic backdrop of an ideal picture for someone in a kayak in the middle of a lake.
The sun was up, generously delivering its heat, to swell up the body temperature, that generates perspiration at a rate known only to those who are blessed by Florida sunshine and cooled by its humidity.
A lovely bird in dark green and a blue beak drank joyously at the bank of the lake, carefree and anchored on a branch. Water lovers in paddle boats,relaxing and conversing.
From a distance, the lovely couple Vahid and May synchronize their paddles and chart their course along, making their away around the island.
He follows their move to circulate the island the second time. With over thirty minutes under his belt, it was time for some soccer in the park. He paddled to the shore.
With green grass and a lively soccer mate (Vahid), he played for a while, took a break, drank some water and continued playing goaly and kicker in turns with a youth (introduced as Alex) in red shirt and jeans who knows his way on the soccer field. Flanked by a family having BBQ at the park, and a fire rescue team in training, there was a lot more to see and hear, but soccer was all that his was into.
He heard the call, "Time to go, Lets go." He waved goodbye to his soccer mate and rushed to the car, sweat cooling off like drippings of water from a cold bottle left on a counter.
At home he took a long shower, thought about the tasty Pei Wei sweet and sour chicken waiting for him, he murmured under his breath, "What a good day. I feel so vivified, refreshed and off course got a good workout."
And that is the story of how I spent today with May and Vahid at the Okeeheelee Park in West Palm Beach Florida.
An island forty five hard-stroke paddles away, flourishes in trees and shrubs of a tropical caliber he has no clue what they are. Pines maybe? The spread of a golf course, bike paths and well intentioned green lawns that make up the park, contrast the water, posing as a fantastic backdrop of an ideal picture for someone in a kayak in the middle of a lake.
The sun was up, generously delivering its heat, to swell up the body temperature, that generates perspiration at a rate known only to those who are blessed by Florida sunshine and cooled by its humidity.
A lovely bird in dark green and a blue beak drank joyously at the bank of the lake, carefree and anchored on a branch. Water lovers in paddle boats,relaxing and conversing.
From a distance, the lovely couple Vahid and May synchronize their paddles and chart their course along, making their away around the island.
He follows their move to circulate the island the second time. With over thirty minutes under his belt, it was time for some soccer in the park. He paddled to the shore.
With green grass and a lively soccer mate (Vahid), he played for a while, took a break, drank some water and continued playing goaly and kicker in turns with a youth (introduced as Alex) in red shirt and jeans who knows his way on the soccer field. Flanked by a family having BBQ at the park, and a fire rescue team in training, there was a lot more to see and hear, but soccer was all that his was into.
He heard the call, "Time to go, Lets go." He waved goodbye to his soccer mate and rushed to the car, sweat cooling off like drippings of water from a cold bottle left on a counter.
At home he took a long shower, thought about the tasty Pei Wei sweet and sour chicken waiting for him, he murmured under his breath, "What a good day. I feel so vivified, refreshed and off course got a good workout."
And that is the story of how I spent today with May and Vahid at the Okeeheelee Park in West Palm Beach Florida.
Monday, August 20, 2007
I'll Give My Life for You
I will give my life for You
I will do whatever it takes to be with You
There is something about You that keeps me on my feet
The calm and drive You bring to my life is Imense
You inspire me into Action, provide cautious advice,
treat me with kindness and shelter me in Love.
The things you do; how you do them is beyond belief
You never cease to Tickle my Imagination,
The strength that exudes from your Charming personality
is gentle, yet Penetrating,
the Power it provides nourishes
and the exuberance it Generates,refreshes.
Words are incapable to clearly define how much you mean to me
Thankfulness and Grace are remote
descriptions of the depth of Adoration I feel towards you
May we continue to leap from strength to Strength
heaven to Heaven and
From bliss to Bliss
I will do whatever it takes to be with You
There is something about You that keeps me on my feet
The calm and drive You bring to my life is Imense
You inspire me into Action, provide cautious advice,
treat me with kindness and shelter me in Love.
The things you do; how you do them is beyond belief
You never cease to Tickle my Imagination,
The strength that exudes from your Charming personality
is gentle, yet Penetrating,
the Power it provides nourishes
and the exuberance it Generates,refreshes.
Words are incapable to clearly define how much you mean to me
Thankfulness and Grace are remote
descriptions of the depth of Adoration I feel towards you
May we continue to leap from strength to Strength
heaven to Heaven and
From bliss to Bliss
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Service the Way to Go
Whao!!! It's been a while since I penned a few words. I am back from a summer and travel hiatus and hopefully by the will of Grace and Blessings I'll be writing more often.
Let me get to the point. What do you think about Service?
I am sure there are myriad of thoughts going through your mind and many ways of responding to the question. All what you are thinking is true and exact.
After spending the last two years on the road, playing music, giving presentations and engaging in many other Fun and Artistic endeavours, I have come to the realization that Service is the best way to go.
Imagine a world where everyone is in Service to everyone. And when I talk about Service I mean that Human Virtue (Spiritual Quality) of giving to others and making a difference in their lives, making the world a better place. That attitude of looking for ways to be of help, working with a spirit of joy and enthusiasm, of doing your very best, contributing to the advancement of the world; be it in small or big ways.
Imagine a world, where people get up in the morning and their thoughts are fixed on making the world of their neighbor a better one (and in this age of superfast internet connection, that neighbor can be anywhere in the world).
Just imagine the joy and excitement it will generate when people consider their jobs,professions and other means of livelyhood as a channel of Service to Humanity rather than a duty, a source of income.
This might sound like am a preacher on a pulpit. I am saying this because I've experienced that kind of environment. It was four years ago in Haifa-Isreal, where I did Voluntary Religious service at the Bahai World Center. You might say that is ancient history, what about Now?
I just came back from a Youth Summer Service Project known as Project Badi in Florida. Three weeks of learning and practicing to be of Service to Humanity through conducting Classes for Children, guiding a Youth Empowerment program, sharing prayers with people, giving presentations on the Healing Message of the Oneness of Humanity by Baha'u'llah, was an experience of tremendous Joy and Enrichment, reminiscent of the experience of service I had four years ago.
The Laughter, the Courage, the Dedication and Enthusiam of the youth participants was trully a sight of cherished memories.
How then can we replicate such experiences so that it becomes a common experience not only for a select few, but for all of Humanity? That is the question I leave you to ponder on. That is my Quest,and I pray and sincerely hope we can make the World a better place in the ways we Dreamed of, guided by the principle that We are Members of One Human Family.
"Ye are the fruits of one tree and the leaves of one branch."
"The Earth is but One country and Mankind its Citizens."
-Baha'u'llah.
Wishing you a Joyous Day.
Let me get to the point. What do you think about Service?
I am sure there are myriad of thoughts going through your mind and many ways of responding to the question. All what you are thinking is true and exact.
After spending the last two years on the road, playing music, giving presentations and engaging in many other Fun and Artistic endeavours, I have come to the realization that Service is the best way to go.
Imagine a world where everyone is in Service to everyone. And when I talk about Service I mean that Human Virtue (Spiritual Quality) of giving to others and making a difference in their lives, making the world a better place. That attitude of looking for ways to be of help, working with a spirit of joy and enthusiasm, of doing your very best, contributing to the advancement of the world; be it in small or big ways.
Imagine a world, where people get up in the morning and their thoughts are fixed on making the world of their neighbor a better one (and in this age of superfast internet connection, that neighbor can be anywhere in the world).
Just imagine the joy and excitement it will generate when people consider their jobs,professions and other means of livelyhood as a channel of Service to Humanity rather than a duty, a source of income.
This might sound like am a preacher on a pulpit. I am saying this because I've experienced that kind of environment. It was four years ago in Haifa-Isreal, where I did Voluntary Religious service at the Bahai World Center. You might say that is ancient history, what about Now?
I just came back from a Youth Summer Service Project known as Project Badi in Florida. Three weeks of learning and practicing to be of Service to Humanity through conducting Classes for Children, guiding a Youth Empowerment program, sharing prayers with people, giving presentations on the Healing Message of the Oneness of Humanity by Baha'u'llah, was an experience of tremendous Joy and Enrichment, reminiscent of the experience of service I had four years ago.
The Laughter, the Courage, the Dedication and Enthusiam of the youth participants was trully a sight of cherished memories.
How then can we replicate such experiences so that it becomes a common experience not only for a select few, but for all of Humanity? That is the question I leave you to ponder on. That is my Quest,and I pray and sincerely hope we can make the World a better place in the ways we Dreamed of, guided by the principle that We are Members of One Human Family.
"Ye are the fruits of one tree and the leaves of one branch."
"The Earth is but One country and Mankind its Citizens."
-Baha'u'llah.
Wishing you a Joyous Day.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Expert in Everything African
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.
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.
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
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