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From a little child called Sara

Here I am now, in my own children's bed in my own old children's room. Safe and happy I arrived and my friends came to the airport to pick me. It was so strange to be back again, everything was so new and I started making pictures as a tourist in my own country. We took a train from the airport to my town and everything was so organized: the train left the exact same time as it was supposed to leave, the toilet in the train was so clean (much cleaner than any other public toilet in Kenya), and I was suprised not to see anyone grabbing in the dust bins looking for food. It is just such a weird transition from Africa to Europe and emotional it's something I couldn't handle if I were so sensitive about it but I just acted that it was normal to be back again. But I cried, offcourse. From inside and outside. :-)We sat on the terras at the airport and had some beers with my Dunhills Blue. The weather was extremely nice, 28 degrees and sun. All flowers are out there in this period of the year and everything looks so green. When we came home we spend the night in my garden (which looks fabulous at the moment with many plants and flowers), ate dinner that we got from take-away, with more beers and cigarettes.It was great seeing my friends again but you know what? Nothing really has changed to them in my period of being in Kenya. Allthough they have experienced some big changes in their lifes when I wasn't there (breaking up relationship, graduation, the loss of a job) their reactions and ways of thinking were still the same. While I on the other hand felt so renewed, so relaxed about everything and at the same time full of life (so powerful indeed). This was also creating some distance between me and them which was a little bit sad to realize. They have never been to Africa so they didn't know my feelings about coming back home, so I tried not to be sad about it and accepted that this feeling is something I can't share with others.My (mother's) house became very beautiful, they put more paintings on the wall and Philip had secretly put flowers in my room ánd a Kenyan souvenir (a lottle wooden giraf, my favourite animal) on my pillow. My mother left me a letter and some money to buy food, and I just started crying by all that love and attention. I haven't seen Philip yet and my mother is on a holiday. But I talked to Philip on the phone a long time and he's sending you his love. He's saying that you, me and him are a triangle, connected souls.He started talking about the same thing you were talking about yesterday, that we all have a body that transports us from one place to another, but that we're not the body itself. We're just using it.Now I'm getting sleepy suddenly & finally! It's already 3. Hope to talk to you soon.Wish you a good day at work, take care!PS - Pass my greetings to everyone, especially to Anas.


المشاركات الشائعة من هذه المدونة

The Beauty of the Silly - نجلاء عثمان التوم

 The Beauty of the Silly  نجلاء عثمان التوم

إلى عثمان حامد سليمان
هل يمكن تشريح الأصالة؟ هل يمكن الكشف عن شعوبها الداخلية دون مجزرة؟ أنا مدفوعة هنا بالحجب الأصيلة التي يغزلها الغناء السوداني حول نفسه فيبدو لنا أحياناً شيئاً محيراً، لامع الحيرة. عندما نتجرد من العصاب الذي نسميه الفهم، وننطلق في رحلة متحللة من كل غاية، ونستمع إلى الأغاني السودانية بأرجلنا ومصاريننا، نشعر أن الطاقة التي تتهدج في الجو هي، ولا شيء خلافها، الهوية. لكن تظل أصالة هذا الغناء شيئاً غامضاً جداً وعصياً على التعيين. ثمة إستراتيجيات، أعتقد، أيّدت هذه الجذوة التحتية. أولاً تحتجب الأصالة، في معظم الأحيان، في تمويهات هزلية تنتجها قوالب شبه ثابتة محكومة بشهوة الرجز، والطلاقة الشعبية، والنبرة العادية في الكلام. فالغناء في الأساس هو مكان التغزل في اليومي والعادي في أقرب نسخه إلى الواقع. وكلما تشبثت الأغنية بسوقيتها المعروقة، كلما تصير إلى درجة من أصالتها الصحيحة. لكن الفن هو دائماً تدخل معقَّد، فلا نجاة من سطوته، لكن التحايل عليه ممكن. فعندما تبدأ أغنية ابتهالية، فيها تسجيل لمغامرة البلاغ العشقي والوصال الكامل، بعبارة “الحج…

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