A sample daily report

I have never kept a diary, detailing aspects of what happened in my daily life. I never ever thought I would actually but I figured today I would give it a try.

It is 2.50pm here in Freetown. I jave just finished work for the day and am about to set off for home. I usually try to leave around this time because otherwise it will take me almost forever to get a taxi home. I am currently sitting at my work desk, wooden and varnished. There is my PC, a Sabil 1.5litre mineral water bottle, my Sony Ericsson phone (which I think is beginning to really fall apart), a red pen, a desk calender for 2008 courtesy of Royal Air Maroc, an office tray with assortment of papers and newspapers from days before, an empty bottle of Fanta which I need to return back to the street to get my 2000 Leones back and a couple of flyers. There is no music going on right now. The office is situated on Howe Street and housed together with staff from a church I think. Well, least we got God's blessing right under our roof. But the walls between the offices are so thin sometimes you feel you are part of a conversation you were not supposed to be in. There are 3 other ladies working with me today - Elisabeth, Daniella and Hawa. All Sierra Leoneans and all my favourites.

I came to work today via a cab from Spur Road (that's the main road from where I reside) and paid 2000 Leones (which is less than a dollar for a 15 mins ride). The sun is scorching as usual. Tim went to work earlier. I think there is some sort of a budget presentation today. So I couldn't get a ride in his 110 Land Rover Defender. So far today, I have eaten: a bun with sauce (onions, stewish sauce with plenty of oil and spices), a piece of chicken, an egg (it all comes together with my bun), and a small piece of fried plantain. I am quite hungry but too lazy to venture out into the crowds of the streets. It can feel suffocating sometimes.

3.50pm - I just went out to get lunch. White rice with fish and beans at Stop Press Restaurant along George Street. It's a restaurant when you can also get the latest political gossip in town. The meal costs me 85oo Leones. Plus I bought a 10 stick Gold Seal menthol. Oh and a 15000 Celtel top up card (that's worth about 5 dollars - way cheaper than what I used to pay in Australia, 30 dollar Optus recharge). The traffic today was exceptionally heavy. Cars, podas-podas, lorries, 4WD, motorbikes all honking.. people running shoulders with other strangers along crowded streets... I admit it was very claustrophobic! But I wade through it all and made it back to the office. By the way, there was an explosion yesterday along Free Street, very near to where I worked.

I am almost done for today. Christmas is nearing and you can feel the vibes and excitement in the city. I am getting exhausted staring at the computer.

Wear Palettes

I discovered this site while browsing and I am convinced we should all dress according to palettes. See more colours on Wear Palettes and also click on The Sartorialist.

For those ever interested to know more about Sierra Leone and the happenings around here, you could read one of the many (and I mean MANY) newspaper around here AWOKO NEWSPAPER. It is a pretty fascinating read...

sights from Freetown

From top to bottom: 90kg of luggage at Gatwick, to the first sights of city life in Freetown, to the beaches and to a picnic with my fellow countrymen. enjoy! more to come...

Present location: Freetown, Sierra Leone.

All went smoothly and we arrived safely.
Our bags are slowly unpacked. Our bodies getting used to the prickles of the tropical heat.
Well, at least for me the weather has been good.
The scene is welcomingly different and sometimes difficult to understand.
But mostly pleasant.
Only pictures will speak a lot more than my mere choice of random words.
The streets are always crowded, peddlars of all ages and kinds. Name it, you'll find it.
People have been kind, generous and amazingly helpful.
God bless their soul.
Our house is not great but not too bad.
And we badly need the car to arrive soon on top of the fact that I need to learn how to drive.
Which I will, despite internal morbid fears. I shall prevail, so I think.
Work is coming soon, for both of us. Him sooner, me hopefully soon enough.
I didn't come here to laze about. I came here with a purpose.
In all, we are well. Good. Slowly and surely absorbing, tasting and indulging in every detail we see, hear, touch and smell. Our insights will be enriched, our lives possibly changed.
You will see in time.

ps: pictures will come soon enough. I hope you remain patient.

Yesterday I read an article in the Süddeutsche Zeitung (every Monday, I get to read article selected from The New York Times for the above-mentioned newspaper) on the lack of painkillers in much of the developing world. The article entitled 'Lack of Painkillers and Fear of Addiction Leave the Poor to Suffer' goes on to illustrate how people in the developing world have no access to the use of painkillers because often these people who are suffering simply cannot get morphine. In that regards, many are left to die in unimaginable pain and agony.

In Sierra Leone for instance, it is not so much the poverty or the lack of supply. It's the fear of addiction. It seems doctors are afraid that by providing patients with painkillers like morphine, there is the potentiality for addiction. This is in turn creates the possibility for a cycle of crime, addiction and so on. Indeed there is a grey line between the need for morphine for pain relief for those suffering and the potentiality for addiction. Still, it is almost inhumane to deny painkillers to someone who is clearly suffering every single day.

The article also interestingly pointed out how much of the world medical narcotics are consumed mainly by those in developed world like the U.S, Britain, Australia and Germany. It seems they consume about 80 per cent of the world's medical narcotics while those in the developing world consumed slightly about 6 per cent.

Thing is, morphine is neither expensive not short in supply. But it is routinely denied to most poor countries. There is also the tendency to believe most of the developing world are only ravaged by diseases such as AIDS, malaria and so on but what we tend to forget is that equally as many are suffering from diseases cancer and the equivalent. And in places like Sierra Leone with only about 100 qualified doctors, most diagnoses are discovered in the late stages. In cases like that, death is almost certain.

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me:
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me and
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain;
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

Christina Rossetti

Tapas reading music notes.

Memory is a funny thing. When I was in the scene I hardly paid it any attention. I never stopped to think of it as something that would make a lasting impression, certainly never imagined that 18 years later I would recall it in such detail. I didn't give a damn about the scenery that day. I was thinking about myself. I was thinking about the beautiful girl walking next to me. I was thinking about the two of us together, and thenabout myself again. I was at that age, that time of life when every sight. every feeling, every thought came back, like a boomerang, to me. And worse, I was in love. Love with complications. Scenery was the last thing on my mind.

Norwegian Wood -Murakami

Location: Vienna, Austria

Location: Prague, capital of the Czech Republic. Including the crowd at the Astronomical Clock, from the top of St. Basilica Kirche at Prague Castle, the terrace view from our room and the store across the hotel.. woah!

Location: Dresden, Germany... on the way to the Czech Republic

Location: Berlin

Location: Bremen and Cuxhaven

Bremen posting

Dear Friends,

I am writing this to let you know I am presently residing in the comforts of small town of Bremen in Germany. Auf der Wachsbleiche to be precise. In T's lovely home, with two cats (Robert and Clara) and a big-bear looking dog called Tapas. London has exhausted me and this quiet little town is a little pleasure I so badly need for this moment in time. I am being very lazy these days and my laziness has perhaps reached an excessive point where I feel as though my brains and any soul left of it has been almost filtered out. I don't quite like to think that this is anywhere negative. It is indeed therapuetic. I am certain you will understand how it is so much easier to pass the day sitting, sipping overflowing tea, talking and dreaming than resolve to spend it productively.

I have been here for almost a week and in the time I have been away, I have learned much about my capacity to cope with being alone in a foreign place and away from any nuances of familiar comforts. It is not easy and perhaps never will but the body and mind is resilient I guess. And if each day I find little pieces of gems and treasures, I am grateful.

This is a very lovely town, and strangely it reminds me a little too much of Canberra even. A little quiet town with its unique characteristics lurking in unknown little corners. It is joy to discover these things, mostly accidental. Sometimes, I find it very surreal to think I actually took this step to be here. Cycling is a nightmare for me though. For those who know me well, I am a certified nervous cyclist. The roads are narrow, the cars slow and they seem to be annoyed at you if you happen to not understand the rules of the road. And as such I am beginning to doubt my capability to learn how to drive.. hmmm..

I am lazy yet again and the sun is starting to shine after days of sporadic rain... I might consider the idea of a walk. I am thinking of you as I am writing this and as you are reading it.

Much much love as always..

The Photographic Story

This is the book that fascinates me the most presently (on top of the other read as well by Soyinka, the first African to receive the Nobel Prize in Literature). On Photography is a collection of six essays by American writer Susan Sontag. This is a brilliant book. Beautifully written, intelligent and thoughtful. In my dreams, I wish I could write like her.

On Photography makes one think and question our societal construction of images - what ought to be preserved, what ought to be displayed, who decides what goes into the picture frame etc. Photographs we take are more than just mementos of a lived experience. It is a reconstruction of a present for the future. We keep pictures not only for memory but also to inform our children and grandchildren of the lives we had. In doing so, we reconstruct this present or future for that matter by carefully selecting pictures that are flattering, that depicts joy, laughter and good times. These are pictures we proudly display on the shelves. The rest that reminds us of sadness and pain will essentially remain hidden in that little shoe box and stored in the corner of the drawer to collect years of dust.

Importantly, this book has allowed me to understand why I take photographs and why I value them and will hold on them to dearly. It allows me to capture the life around me that I normally otherwise would not have noticed. It gives me great pleasure to take a snapshot of a face I secretly adore. Beautiful photographs bring wonderful sentiments along with them. For me, it far beyond what the picture says, it's what the pictures conjure in me each time I look at it that matters more.

I loved you once by Alexander Pushkin (1799-1837)

I loved you once, nor can this heart be quiet;
For it would seem that love still lingers there;

But do not you be further troubled by it;
I would in no wise hurt you, oh, my dear.

I loved you without hope, a mute offender;
What jealous pangs, what shy despairs I knew!

A love as deep as this, as true, as tender,God grant another may yet offer you.

top to bottom: the mannequin pis dressed as a venetian peasant and medieval representations..

Brussels part 2

In my eyes and my eyes alone, Brussels comprised of the following items and experiences:

pretty jewellery. a stylish jacket. eurostar. one duck leg. kriek. pierre macolini. mannequin pis dressed as a venetian peasant. a monty hotel. waffles. a runny nose. german, french and flemish sounds that is honestly unintelligible to my ears. medieval lives on display. beautiful architecture. a third of james brown thrown together with some old school hip hop, all courtesy of matz. pitta bread with fillings. thee. an understanding of the belgian tradition of beer drinking. cobbled stone streets. scholes. fromage. one beautiful day spent in brugges. european baccalaureate. a warm belgian family. rainy days. croissants. tintin. lots of smiles, laughter, hugs, kisses and love.

Brussels has been unbelievably warm, kind and generous to me and for that, this whole adventure has been heaven.

Tomorrow, London awaits.

Brussels part 1

Today I am writing this to you from a nice, brick hotel located in Montgomery in the city of Brussels. Refurbished in 2003, the interior of the Hotel Monty is centred on a perpetual red-white colour scheme, which in some ways reminded me very much of lunar new year celebrations back home. Seriously it does. Slightly unnerving I must say at first but you get used to it. And in a while, it does becomes artistically pleasing, with te likes of those ghost-like, transparent chairs by Phillip Starck and gorgeous lamps by Kartell and Bourgies and so on.

In the time I have been in Europe (as of today, that would be an estimated four days), I have managed to do the following:
1. slipped and fell on the Millennia Bridge across Tate Modern in London, and as such I now have a very sore, red and scarred left knee. NB: Please note that this injury was incurred not so much in excitement as I ran across to meet my loved one.

I simply stopped and stood still and I slipped. It was almost as though my brain decided then that I should fall and I certainly did. As I have mentioned many times before, I do suffer from crippling bouts of idiocy. This is one of those moments and rest assured, I believe there is more to come.

2. sat around a dinner party with many, many and I mean many Germans and have little inkling as to what dinner conversations was all about. There is a possible chance that I am exaggerating here. I do get bits and pieces of German but for the love of the language, I don’t get around it very much. And then the very next day, attended a typical European high school graduation where almost every other language was spoken except English. A cacophony of German, French, Flemish, Italian sounds that was almost unintelligble to my Asian ears. Delightful experience.

3. a runny nose

Not too bad I'd say...

ps: I missed rice badly. I know I have only been gone for less than a week and one should after all maintained an open and inquisitive mind when travelling in strange lands, BUT I want rice! If anyone of you could possibly shipped me a plate together with some kangkung, and maybe some sambal udang together with a bowl of asam pedas, I will be most grateful. On top of that, appreciate it if you also send some of those jollybean soya bean drink. I have a small love for soya bean. Thank you. Your kindness is really appreciated and upon receiving these items stated aboved, you will immediately be moved onto the number 1 spot on my "Favourite People" list... yay!

As expected, it was one long slow painful flight. Painful because I was unfortunately squashed in the middle seat, with very limited freedom of movement. Now now.. I may be small (I stand at about 1.58metres tall and weigh no more than possibly 43kg) BUT still, it was very uncomfortable. It was slightly more than a twelve-hour flight from Singapore Changi Airport into London Heathrow Airport. Leaving Singapore was more difficult than I expected. Leaving faces I have known over the years, the smells I have been accustomed to, the food, the hot humid weather, the likes of Orchard Road and other haunts..

Some of you may recall late night conversations regarding my concerns about moving away. To you who took time to listen to my rantings and stood by me in during those unexpected outbursts, I owe you a world of thanks.

Despite the flight discomforts, I got into London safe and sound (strangely, recent bomb threats in the UK didn’t quite feature in my list of concern). I was extremely tired, but it was wonderful to see him again and to know this is a start of some life together. Let’s take this one tiny step first.

Ladies and gentlmen, here are the chronicles of my miss-adventures and travel experiments..

ps: write me a note and i'll send a postcard and a kiss..

Goodbye

I am leaving tonight for Europe and then god knows where after. The idea T and I have right now is to move to Africa. T just received his posting and it looks like we are going to Ghana. Exciting!

You may have heard me say how I am slowly and surely developing a distaste for goodbyes. I am. It has been a series of hellos and goodbyes lately and hasn't been that much fun. In fact, it is veru difficult. I am getting anxious as I slowly count down the hours and minutes till this body gets on that plane. I feel like my heart is palpitating out of control. Well, almost. I know I am exaggerating. I think we all do more than we know or care to admit. Of course I am not leaving forever, now that would be an exaggeration BUT it is still 'goodbye' for now. No matter how we choose to say it or see it, it is a goodbye. And it is not easy.

I get these feelings each time I am about to go and even after so many times, I have never gotten used to it. I think I shouldn't. Goodbyes are not supposed to be fun, thus one shouldn't make a ceremony out of it.. or should we? I am visibly confused now. As usual, when in doubt, I went out and got myself a haircut. I've always wanted straight bangs.fringe.

these words...

Dumbb & Nutty - Today I am dedicating this space to 2 very special people in my life. I have known him since 1998 and her since 2004. There were hard times which I'd like to erase from the corners of my mind, magical moments I still cling on to and plenty of laughter and tears. They have seen at my best and at my worst. They have seen me laugh, cry, puke my guts out, held my hands, and above all been oh-so-patient when I behaved like an over-hyperactive arse.

They partake in the random games I 'designed' without question and watched me haggled over the ridiculous price of Fuji apples at the supermarket without judgement. They still listened when I tell them jokes that were never funny to begin with, and remind me of my occasional bouts of idiocy which can happen far too often actually. Most times I am speechless by their grace and patience with me. Above all, I am thankful and blessed to have known them intimately. So many things I will miss - him repeating himself more than twice, her insatiable attraction for certain brown folks, him and his quirky one-liners, her never being on time, him telling me all will be alright, her obsession with pomelos etc etc.. the list goes on. I would break my bones for them, and cross the streets without looking just for them. In so many ways, my life is where it is today because they were part of it.

In ways unexplained, I wished I did not have to leave. I have said goodbyes to these two wonderful beings far too many times, some harder than most. Him especially. Each day when I think of them, I am forever grateful because they love me dearly.
Whatever the distance, to me, that all that matters.

Today, I humbly thank them for being my friends..

The words of Russell - arguably the coolest philosopher of our time

Earlier this morning, struggling from the last remnants of sleep, I went online like any other day. I came across some writings from Betrand Russell. Somehow I forgot I read a fair bit of Russell once in my life and I enjoyed it tremendously. Here's one passage that I have shared with few loved ones.. they know who they are.



Three passions have governed my life: The longings for love, the search for knowledge, And unbearable pity for the suffering of humanity.

Love brings ecstasy and relieves loneliness. In the union of love I have seen In a mystic miniature the prefiguring vision Of the heavens that saints and poets have imagined.

With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of [people]. I have wished to know why the stars shine.Love and knowledge led upwards to the heavens, But always pity brought me back to earth; Cries of pain reverberated in my heart Of children in famine, of victims tortured And of old people left helpless. I long to alleviate the evil, but I cannot, And I too suffer.

This has been my life; I found it worth living.

I never fail to feel good each time I read these lines.

And in another one,

If throughout your life you abstain from murder, theft, fornication, perjury, blasphemy, and disrespect towards your parents, your Church, and your king, you are conventionally held to deserve moral admiration even if you have never done a single kind or generous or useful action. This very inadequate notion of virtue is an outcome of tabu morality, and has done untold harm.

Each time I read Russell, I find myself starting all over again. The importance of doing good and why it matters to others and also personally to my growth. Being kind and having goodness in your heart. I like to think I'll shape my life on such values and morals. Such conviction.  


Then one thought led to another. I am somewhat reminded about what Ernest Hemingway once said.. something about write the truest thing you know. I struggled with this a lot. While part of me aspires to do just that, the other half of me simply lacks the confidence and clarity needed to perform such a formidable task. And here I honestly say that I don't write beautifully, or even with much depth. My words are simple and in many ways, the emotions running through it all too familiar.

And it is a huge responsibility to write the truth. I see it as a privilege. Writing about what it true is not so much about the need to preserve a portion of one's history or memory of things. I have always thought memories are mostly reinventions. To me, this whole writing the truest thing I know is about me finding the words that best express those events and the truth they give me. I write about them because to me they matter to me, not anyone else. This I realised is not an easy process. I still endeavor to lead such a life although I know attaining it is as elusive as it gets. Regardless I keep these words close to my heart and on days when the world around me seems nauseating, I think of them and know that somehow they can make me feel slightly better. These words, although not mine, will continue to live on even after I ceased to be and my ashes becomes tiny speckles on this red red earth. For now, they inspire me.

by means of an introduction

Silent in Spring is a collection of ponderings, mindless mumblings, whimsical stories of my very small existence. Occasionally attached with photographs, some planned, many accidental.

I got the name from Rachel Carson's landmark book - Silent Spring. The book was published in 1962 and very much coincided with the beginning of the environmental movement in the West. Silent Spring essentially speaks about how the use of pesticides can have detrimental and far-reaching consequences. In the face of unlimited usage of pesticides and the likes, animals and humans will eventually face the same death.
The title was an allusion to the spring season where silence prevail because all the birds had died from pesticide poisoning.

No birds, no songs, silence in spring, silent in spring.

If you have not read the book, have a go... it might inspire you.

You can find out more about Rachel Carson and her works at www.rachelcarson.org

Jervis Bay, Australia

Oh, one of my favourite pictures from times in Down Under! This was one good weekend. Rented a huge vacation house, with loads to eat and drink and good friends. Winter 2006.

Funeral Blues

I thought I'll start by sharing one of my favorite poems by W.H. Auden. Funeral Blues. Fell in love with this one. Typically depressing but then again I enjoy reading Schopenhauer.

***
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear white cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song,
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods,
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
***

Let's start

Today I decided to start a blog after many failed attempts. Patience and writing do not always go hand in hand for me. But I will try - again. Should I fail to keep this up, at least I tried. I could safely say that. Part of the reason why I want to write again is because very soon (in less than a week), I am going to embark on a new journey in my life. I will be moving to a far away continent and for all the crazy reasons - I am going to pack my bags and moved halfway across the world for a boy. Crazy yes. But I'd rather try than not. 

As such, this space is my way of keeping friends, loved ones, strangers and you posted on my random stories, sights, thoughts and what-nots on my upcoming journey. For now, my life looks like a gelatinous puddle of uncertainty. This posting marks the end of my term in Canberra, my hurried return to Singapore and my upcoming adventures.

I hope to use this blog as a means for me to express, explore, experience and experiment with life and things in general. What I know and what I don't coming together.

To my loving friends, forgive me for any random inklings and thoughts that may not necessarily make perfect sense. If you should spend two minutes reading this, I hope you go on and for that, I thank you.

So here goes. Fingers and toes crossed.