Friday, May 16, 2008

Geneva of Africa (not), the Effing Factory and Dorothy Parker (again)

Comment by Dorothy Parker

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Roumania

i thought i had nothing to say this evening about today. imagine? so i posted a favourite poem and found a matching jaded, faded see, i have always had this sort of inkling that i was a russian aristo in a past life. anyway. no explanations needed. such a clever little poem.

(what is that thing on my head?)

headed down to school to watch the cross country this morning . school is literally down the hill and around the corner (or round the corner and up your bum as my 9yr old son would say)...ten minutes away. in fact the kids could cycle there (in keeping with the poem after a fashion - highlighted in retrospect ) if it wasn't for the enormous mosquito net factory brooding and breeding below us and their killer trucks which speed up and down the road delivering mosquito nets to the congo (?) i presume... Actually, it's not called The Factory. it's referred to The F&*(^%$ Factory by all Hill Dwellers. that's how much we like it. the only way i can stay here and look down upon this utter monstrosity scarring the landscape and our view is that it makes things which saves lives and employs about 3 000 people. and don't get me started on working conditions and such shall never be set free from this crazed ramble. oh no.

if the truth be known, i bloody hate it. but have to live with it and so i genuinely try and apply every inch of buddhism i know of to learn about acceptance and blah. shit. i still hate it. the government loves it and brought george bush to visit it. its a show piece for them. they bring every dignitary who happens to pass through Arusha (also known as the little geneva of africa. how in allah's name they get to THAT is quite beyond me apart from obviously the close proximity to a mountain never mind a range of mountains. geneva of africa when you look at the rubbish floating down the mountain streams....? and the only fountains i have seen is the one on impala roundabout, where all the saturday weddings take place and the two vomitting dinosaurs (the water dribbles out their mouths) outside Shell Oil petrol station in mbauda. no lakes at all. lake manyara being the closest but it can't possibly count. but i digress).

when mr bush dropped by i wanted to ride my white horse, Rhino, down to the junction with the factory road and carry a flag and dress up like a cowboy - rhinestones and all. i really would have, you know, if i had known what time he was passing by. its not that i like mr bush or anything, you understand, only that it would have made a great scene. white horse. rhinestone cowboy. maasai warriors and beleagured lumpen proletariat. i didn't feel like waiting in the sun for hours while every maasai child in the near vicinity crowded around and in chorus chants, in a sing song voice "farasi farasi farasi farais farasi farasi farasi farasi farasi farasi farasi farasi farasi" which means horse horse horse.

no shit sherlock.

of course our boys were utterly magnificent in the cross country. (isn't that where i started? you see? that effing factory!!!!) and duly won medals with grace. i was standing next to Whizzy (nick name) who is the fastest runner in the school. she is really tall and coltish and naturally fast. i ventured to tell her that i could run 10kms (can't resist showing off...i only did it once) to which she jauntily replied "oh easy. i can run double that." outrageous! "well i am an old lady and you are a bright young thing and...." before i knew it the race had begun and she was off and she won. what am i like?
also found myself yelling at the school kids (read other peoples kids who i don't even know) to "Go back to the other side! How many times do you have to be told that you are not allowed here...EXCUZE ME?" as a gesture to help the teachers. i saw ms. GH staring rather hardly in my direction. well. honestly. someone had to keep order at the starting lines. maybe i should have reined it in a little. i remember one of D's little friends saying "man D, your mum is soooo kali!". and he hadn't seen the most of it.

another little friend said "oh but my mum NEVER says no." to which i tartly and promptly retorted, "really? well this mum does. read my lips. N - O." it took him about a year to come for a sleep over. he was terrified of me. rightly so. and damned right too.
toodely pip then.

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African Barbie said...

Dorothy.....its another Saturday on my side of Africa...I think they call it the Paris of Africa here..small deluded chuckle..
Just catching up with your life, loves and general health crisis of a nearly 42 or is it

43 yr old...Poly sana babe on being sick...I miss you, although this helps....did enjoy looking at that sexy arsed husband
of yours...pity I never noticed how SEXY that man was when I was lock him strange I should say that, as I am designing silver and ebony cuffs with lace up bodices...must be the kinky girl in me yet again...

reluctantmemsahib said...

oooooooooooooh hello! fab reading. beautiful pictures. love it. x

Janelle said...

ah thanks anthea!! x j