Lifestyle
I had a mini revelation a few short hours ago, you know one of those moments when you’re s(h)itting on the throne - en voila…
I’m into my 4th month here, this isn’t counting the time I spent here last year. A storm approaching, and winter threatening. That was different, a trip back home after decades abroad, now back as a member of a small community. Wait till they start finding out what I’m up to — is lynching still a thing?
It’s getting interesting, little triggers sparking a long-dormant synapse. I’m starting, with a bit of help, to recognize them, let them out hopefully lend themselves to more.
A contributor of course is just being in the place of my birth, well at least the country as I opted for the coastal side this time around, why we ever lived in the mile-high internal wonderland called Germiston is beyond me, we did have a lake though. Anyway, water is, along with air, something I want to be close to for my remaining days. (sounds terminal).
An obvious one, is language, accents, etc. all carry their own code, meaning something that I can relate to my early years, but most still carry the same image. Other things are familiar.
After a while of living in the USofA, I began to have trouble discerning whether a phrase, idiom, or any other language form, I wielded was of African or American origin. At a point I just gave up, subtleties seemingly lost on a nation that in large part respond to 5 letter words. Don’t get me wrong, in a country with 11 official languages words may not be clearly understood.
(South Africa’s constitution recognises 11 official languages: Sepedi (also known as Sesotho sa Leboa), Sesotho, Setswana, siSwati, Tshivenda, Xitsonga, Afrikaans, English, isiNdebele, isiXhosa, and isiZulu) might as well take the opportunity to spread some knowledge. On a separate note, I’m not convinced appeasing all is helpful in taking a country in many ways firmly planted in the 3rd world, out, tower of Babel and all.
I’m back on my throne, feeling rather bloated, fretting about my inability to get control of my questionable eating habits, is it gluten glomming onto my insides trapping perfectly innocent, duly processed waste quietly working its way through the labyrinth that is my intestinal tract. How am I going to break bread, the habit that is, when the universe continues to conspire, forcing my hand?
Case in point, I’m sitting diligently working away on a project, I hold off on food for the time being and just order an apple, carrot, ginger (a lot) health drink to tide me over. All good. On about the fifth check-in by my waitress, was she bored, I’m obligated to place an order, and office space isn’t free.
I was prepared having checked the menu, and chose the healthy option although the toasted cheese with pesto did, initially, grab my gut, my health was paramount, and do the right thing. Quinoa salad it will be I tell her with a slight smug ‘look at me go’ expression across my unshaven mug. As mentioned winter is coming, Is a beard an option?
I’d chosen a seat at the far end of the restaurant, I see her approaching once again, I know what’s up, now I’m being coerced, who the fuck is looking out for me? Making matters worse, the inch-high, cheese oozing, toastie (that’s what it’s called here) didn’t make the trip alone, a decent-sized russet in the form of finely browned, partly crispy wedges had hitched a ride. Really??? So much for moderation.
It’s laundry day, clean sheets and all. Something clicks. Years of showering in the morning something I’d gotten the hang of, when in Rome. I’d been doing that here however I’ve run into an issue.
The place has solar, there is a long story about power supply that most of the world has already heard so I’ll skip it, however, in the morning hours, the water isn’t getting heated by the sun. Even in Africa, the sun ceases to shine at night, and has yet to grace us with its presence, the water losing heat overnight resulting in a less than satisfactory, although quite invigorating, shower experience.
I’d had the thought one of those mornings as I shivered slightly, showered at the end of the day give my god Helios every opportunity to graciously supply the energy source, (what a concept), unfortunately, I didn’t make a note so the thought, along with the soapy water, you know what I’m getting at.
Propped on the royal seat, which may well be how the new King feels at all times, affords a certain clarity, done, I step into a scalding stream, aahhh…
