Day The Ninth

Weekend passing in a flourish, fresh air in though the balcony door, Mirriam’s goodbyes to Kingfisher, the 1000 piece puzzle done, and the Inch delivery of coffee and chips.  The laziness as antidote to captivity, and the ongoing delays of this time of the virus.  Shall we emerge in time for next St. Patrick’s Day at the stomping ground of history?  What a celebration it shall be.

News today from Dad about the passing of an Uncle who has been out of mind and story for awhile.  Strange to imagine his age when interwoven in your childhood memories.  19 years ahead, and so all the teenage years saw him younger than you are now.  The basement movies and video games and windjammers.  A laugh that was contagious and always carried hints of danger that ended up being realized.  All too tragically, for him, in the end.  

Raise a glass for the memories, to mortality, as the sun soon sets on a night that would make for good sailing in warmer temperatures.  Five days until liberation, looking forward to that long walk.  The Arsenal wins helpful in powering through, and Trump at CPAC still to come to offer a glimpse of the angered insanity that so nearly might have been.

All told, another weekend under the state of emergency.  What is the endgame?  We must wait, but let’s hope it soon brings the wife across the oceans.

Homing Devices

Back safely.  Such a journey, seamlessly conducted once again by Ethiopian in this mad world obsessed by viruses and variants.  Is there a way to know whether I have the disease, or ever picked it up, other than to wait.  The irony of finding patience when it is not the strongest quality, learning to share in a marriage by easing into it, one month on and two months off as part of these crazy times.

We look to Willard to write the letter of support for the TRV.  We look to random internet service companies to provide police clearances and translations.  This story of the process of (re)unification, and how you overcome the frames of colonial and sexist reference - the reorientation of life and mind.

I’m home, and during these quarantines it really feels this way.  But the space also - always - had and has an unfinished air about it.  There is one to change that, to add the motivation to spend and live.  Had we waited for the travel advisory to lift, all would have been lost.  Instead, the memories are spectacular and long-lasting and assured.  How soon can she arrive?  We shall see.  Bless us with favourable news on that front too.  

Ist Good (?)

Another in the long line of surreal, inexplicable African moments.  From the giraffe breakfast and Zambezi couple massage to the shade of this tree as the mechanics go to work on the servicing.  Hopefully it all checks out, and must be thankful above all that the 1000 km driven to date were done without notable incident or accident.  

After the brake shoes versus pads, spark plugs and oils and grease and other dark magic, has the leaking radiator replacement pipe been found?  No, but chemicals have been applied.  The grease brushes are brushing and the car remains jacked.  Some guy is stopping by to check this leaking radiator pipe, let’s see how this unfolds...  

“You cannot find in the shops.”  Zig zags all around.  I don’t understand Africa (obviously)  so much you don’t understand, never will understand.  Need to be conscious of cleaning up after yourself, of shutting up and letting her finish.  Such an education, in everything.  These are also the experiences that you pay for.  How to change the attitude when it comes to these expenses?  Laughter, step-by-step, dropping the antagonistic view of the world in favour of seeing everything as something worth enjoying.  

“You drive me crazy sometimes,” she says.  Could be worse.  No one to share this ridiculousness with, for one.  Or to be buried under snow.  Remember the second honeymoon, it’s ups and downs in all its ridiculousness.  Just trying to continue living a memorable life.  Not a bad run so far. 

Candlelight

The ZTE connection works to perfection, followed by the receipt of the debrief call as if you were slumming it at home in the snowstorm.  Instead, traded three bills for some memories of the Gorge swing, M’s body falling on top of you as you plummeted downward, some guttural noise emerging from deep within.  She’s a brave one, and what a moment in the sunshine it was as a way to start a Monday.  Everyone continuing to remain oblivious, the rains holding off until the fall complete, everything else in its right place.

Quarantine hotel guidelines released, with application deadline upcoming.  How soon will the implementation deadline drop, and can you skate within it.  The email from William(s) Blake and timing of this Wednesday’s call a comfort in not escaping immediately.  If you must quarantine, you must quarantine.  The salary dropped in just about the right spot in the preliminary report, with chances to improve further for 2022 before a descent.  This one off to a good start, let’s see through the next 45 weeks.  

Now to head into bed after the recollection of candlelight at the Hotel Newfie in the dark days of outages in January 2013.  This environment a far more romantic and glorious one, to be sure.

Palace of the King

Kingfisher.  So strange, this life, the funding of the apartment and car and to be now inserted briefly into this life.  Shall the mi-fi contraption work?  We’ll find out manana, or maybe tonight on the Zoom.  Meantime, the matrimonial property with the rains, the a/c, the DSTV blasting out the DMX Blues (Thanks Freddie), and the hat from the roadside hanging by the door.  

Incredible what one soul can inspire.  The invention of tomorrow, ringing in its surprises and changes.  If the hotel quarantine gauntlet must be run, so be it.  Now that you are here, you should stay and enjoy while you can.  Fingers crossed for Feb 22 implementation.  Heh.

And if not, just write the story instead.

The Rock Jutting Out From The Gorge

If Kariba is a trap in the Zambezi, it is but a pleasant one that has a few escape hatches to choose from.  Three nights here at the far superior Inn as compared to Eagle’s, the pool has proved a masterstroke of relaxation and the extra day for the boat cruise absolutely warranted.  But will you ever be back this way again?  We doubt it.  Reminiscent of too many other watering holes that are far more easily accessible.

Still, the food and ambience a delight, and the wifi connection as strong as Prince Street.  I loved passing the canoe today, guy snapping pictures of the chipolopolo, just as you were doing the reverse.  

There is a quiet that comes with Covid travel, everything at such reduced capacity, ready to be unleashed once normality returns.  Imagine not coming across the water for this, slumming at home, waiting.  The crazy thing is that all options lie before you.  Postpone indefinitely in Livingstone and wait it out?  Quick departure, or original (and best)?  

I so love the road, and how this marvellous wife has ushered me along it since the first encounter.  Dreams aside, there’s not been a moment of uncertainty.  Flow.  These memories to hold, in future years, even as last summer’s begin to fade.  Remember the lights on the sardine boats, the short fat round Windhoek advert, the white bikini, the lapping water at the poolside.  How everyone would wish to be here, just doesn’t have the creativity to pull it off.  Ha.

Shall toast again with the Southern Cross namesake in view. As AI texted, Keep up the good work!  And don’t forget the key - don’t be greedy...