I’ve been trying to write these past few days but the process is slow and grueling and really quite unproductive. I keep waiting for my thoughts to actually get out and show themselves but they are still stuck somewhere deep down inside. The act of writing is usually my means for sorting through them, making them fit together into sentences gives them a sense of coherence, structure. But here, I am utterly incapable of doing so.
I caught myself wondering this morning why exactly this was. And then I realized that my writing is about wrestling. It’s about confronting discomfort. But here I am really quite comfortable. Here where we still eat dinner in bed. Because. Where it is perfectly acceptable to have hot butter fried cuttle fish and fries with a sundae on top for dinner. Where they still call me baba even though I’m pretty sure the real world has started calling me an adult. Because. Where I can stay in my PJs. All.day.long. Just reading, sometimes. Here, where there is the comfort of AC & the passenger seat. Not having to drive everywhere – figuratively, of course – has reminded me just how exhausting this having to drive always can be.
There are moments of discomfort. Don’t get me wrong. Like when Sunitha and I sit on the edges of a conversation, I trying to converse in a tongue she knows not and her in a tongue I only knew so well very long ago. We are careless with our words though. We toss them around. I start a sound. She finishes it. She makes a move. She makes some hand signals. We figure it out. We move along. There is no stringing together of words. There are just words. For things. That we use. When we need to.
But that’s the problem really. Because what I need now – to write that is – are my words. The right words. Fat words, skinny words, words with other words inside of them. Really, any words will do. As long as they’re my words.
I’m still looking for them.
*But until then, these image will do. Of my life, lately.
“I get lost sometimes
like everybody else
lose track of my lifelines
lose track of myself
and there’s all kind of reasons
to be scared and run away”
There are many miles between each town we visit and so I have some time to think. To stare at the hills. The mountains. The muddied grass turned brown in the heart of winter.
On the road, you can see life pass you by in a way that you just can’t when you’re in the middle of it, living it.
And so it’s made me think about this blog. How a lot of what I throw out to this space are the moments I want to write down, how a lot of those moments are the happy ones, the rays of light that shine through. I have a selection bias you could say. But that doesn’t mean that there aren’t low points. Moments when I think to myself, wait, what exactly am I doing here?
Continue reading day 6&7: written bare.
On day 5 I finish his story. I can’t quite explain to you the feeling of loss that I felt when I did, how hard I worked to prolong the ending, to not finish his story, to keep on reading it, holding it with me in my lap.
Continue reading day 5: (hi(s)tory)
We are not about to go up that treacherous rocky mountain cliff, I thought to myself. “Ma’am, we take two-year olds up there.” Seriously dude, not cool.
Continue reading day 3&4, in which i pretend i can ride a horse
So today, we go into Durban town, where let’s not dance around the point here, I am most interested in the food. The curry specifically. We go to a rinky-dinkity shop dressed up as a passable fast food joint in a food court in a mall that this shop clearly does not belong in (not amongst the KFCs and McDonalds and Burger Kings that scream food court at least.) We order garlic naan, butter naan, lamb buriyani, and a lamb karahi that I will be talking about till the end of all lamb karahis. Because this curry is seriously something else. The kind of breakfast/lunch (I think we call that brunch) that I will be talking about for ages – except that I can’t talk and pass out in the car instead because I have eaten so much that I am in physical pain.
Continue reading day 2: on independence day
Hi friends, as you have probably figured out I am in South Africa for the summer. These weeks, I’m interning with Project Isizwe, an NGO whose work I was excited about before getting here – and am growing increasingly more passionate about as I stay here. In part because the mission and purpose of this organization is something I really believe in. In part because the people I work with are just so awesome.
Continue reading day 1: better than this.