Sunday, May 10, 2009

wild horses couldn't drag me away...


god.
i am stiff. very stiff.
on saturday afternoon at approximately five o clock in the evening, i galloped faster than i have in years. in fact, probably since i was 16 and fearless.
it was initially intended. an act of carefree fearlessness. of freakish bravado.
no hat. (i know i know)

so there was this dusty red plain scattered with acacia trees, the odd log and the odd horse neck and leg breaking rider killer aardvark hole.

what was i thinking? 

ridiculous thoughts obviously. thoughts which make you do very silly things...like gallop off in fifth gear in no particular direction. on an ex race horse. who has won lots of races. apparently. and, as i belatedly discovered, hates being last. 
so away i went, towards the mountain, the setting sun behind me, red dust blinding me, wind screaming in my ears and a horse which was so flat it was almost an inch from the ground, which by this point was a blur. this went on for a long time because clearly i had time to make these observations. i knew what it felt like to be william the conquerer. i had time, babies. i was making time.

quite suddenly and admittedly rather too bloody belatedly, i started thinking sensibly. 

y'know janelle, this probably isn't a good idea. no. no. whoops. there goes another AARDVARK HOLE into which horse could stumble, and somersault upon which you will fall onto the ground, break your neck and leave children with no direction home. or end up a live faceless cabbage.
ok yes. fuck. i need to slow down right now damnit. 
you try and change gears on a full speed galloping horse. i tried. 
in fact, she only sped up. so away we went. 
and went.
and went.

i made it.

and felt like i had just won a world recogized special horse award for excellence generally all round. 

returning back to camp i hastily tucked into a bottle of prosecco (as any world champion would) to celebrate this infinitely soul releasing act of foolishness. while i toasted the moon floating up behind kilimanjaro. with my spaghetti thin riding buddy tati, who HAD in fact, aherm, taken a tumble. and returned to my what is becoming an habitual bad habit of thinking irretrievably foolish thoughts. 

obviously the evening panned out as i had intended. ya know. responsive universe and all that...remember? in my prosecco fuelled enthusiasm, i guitar peaked too early. 

i met a new zealander, a few germans, a few dutchies, a half tanzanian russian, who was a good looking dead ringer for lenin,  carlos's spanish family, newly arrived directly from spain, late and wide eyed like bunnies in the headlights and a bottle of jamesons.

as soon  as his family unreluctantly stumbled into what was now a run away party,  we broke into La La La La Bamba. i promise you carlos LOVES it.  and worse,  i kept speaking completely rubbish italian to his sister. at any given sodding opportunity. at least i was pleasant to the germans from makowa. i know i was. civil. polite. charming, in fact. 

dirk and i sang Keep On Rocking In The Free World about six times, i think it was. i sang my waltz twice. once at seven. again at around ten and then i am sure i sang it again before i went to bed at 4. which would make it three times then. still. the evening ended on a deeply crushing note. dirk said he needed absolutely to tell me that he thought, well, he thought my shirt was just, well, HORRIBLE.

crushed. i tell you. i bloody love it. its acqua, with sort of hindu heads all over it...AND it matches my antique italian jade ring...anyway. boo hiss. can't be helped. i shall have to punish him forever.

bed beckons. my body is so stiff. i am tired. but by god i am wildly happy. 
and foolish.
clearly.

toooodely ole toot then, Oh Bestest, bisous X.X.X. dusty cowgirl ones...

18 comments:

PurestGreen said...

Your writing has become so dreamlike as of late. Somewhat fractured, but with a delicate flow about it, like a series of long troughs carrying water, spilling a little with each turn. It's so beautiful.

mighty jo said...

just imagining doing what you write about doing helps me to feel exhilarated & a little bit free of my own frustrated muck-hole. it's beautiful. thank you.

amandasearle said...

At the moment you are my total inspiration - after losing my beloved mum, I just cannot seem to pull myself together and sooo look forward to reading your blogs and feel utterly disappointed if you miss a day or two. You write things that are often thoughts that fleet through my own mind but you dwell on them and write them down - that I think, is what I am missing!! i so wish we lived closer, Janelle.

Mud in the City said...

It is moments like that that make us alive.

(But do look out for the aardavrk holes!)
xx

Lori ann said...

well, at least you have stopped drinkin the Bacardi!Janelli,janelli...no more narrowly missing aardvark holes, we love you youbeautifulgallopingafricansongbird, dusty one too.
♥ lori

i think i like your top ☺

Janelle said...

thanks purest green...gosh. your message is completely lyrical. poetic. THANKS! xxx j
ah mighty jo...asante sana...leave your muck hole. leave your muck hole...XXX j
amanda! delighted you have joined the blogosphere...and thanks very much for terribly kind words..wish i could blog everyday..but alas...bloody school and kids and blah get in the way...life, ya know? xxx j
mud! when you going to come out and join me??? promise we'll skip the aardvark holes...XXX j
thanks golden lori ann...oooooergh to baccardi...lots love toujours...xxx ps haven;t you left yet??

Bee said...

I would love to know what it feels like to ride a galloping horse, but I'm afraid, so afraid. (A horse kicked my daughter in the mouth, right beside me; and never very comfortable around horses, I've become positively phobic.)

But, I love an aqua shirt -- and I bought a very beautiful one when I was in Texas. (Of course, that color always looks best in bright sun.) Ignore that man . . .

Lori ann said...

in the morning ☺

♥ don't forget me

Janelle said...

never ever...safari njema...you will be just a little south of me. . .x

Dumdad said...

You're my hero, Janelle!!!!!

Reya Mellicker said...

Like a cat, Janelle, you can not be tamed. Not ever.

I feel so lucky to "know" you.

Ride hard. There is no other way to live.

xxoo

p.s. When I saw the post title, I immediately began singing the song in the whiniest voice I could muster. Bless you!

Mama Shujaa said...

What energy and momentum here! Ever heard haraka haraka haina baraka? Well, you've proved that one wrong this time.
:-)!!

Lover of Life said...

You brought back all those memories of riding "balls out" on my horse. It is an incredible feeling - exciting, freeing, and scary all at once. You feel at one with the horse and it's pounding hoofs.

Thanks for the memory. Glad you didn't run into one of those holes!

Janelle said...

aw shucks DD thanks!! xxx j

well completely reciprocated reya! and one day perhaps we shall meet..wouldn;t that be marvelous? xxx j

heh heh heh mama S! kabisa...haina baraka mbaya hapa...xxx j

lover of life..indeed..if you don't feel one with the horse you would most likely be lying dead or unconscious down an aardvark hole! yes. i was STUCK onto the horse with invisible glue and angel wings...X j

Tessa said...

Aaah, yes, I remember it well. Riding out across the Athi Plain, wild and free and mad...acacia thorns and aardvark burrows and cantering giraffe and snorting, head tossing zebra, scattering gazelle. The world blurring, dust and heat and wind and the crazy exhilaration which stays in your head and your heart forever and ever until the end of the world...

Oh god, now I'm bawling. Shit.

Eliza said...

babe, i'm so sad i missed it...gutted. you had so much fun, and i wish i was there! heading home tomorrow thank god. oh, and last time dirk told me my ultra-fab orange hat...you know, the super-cool bush hat...was awful :)

Janelle said...

eliza! i was on tadosac. she flew. literally...and i can;t BELIEVE dirk said that about That Hat...jesus. eternally punished he shall be. X X X j

ah tessa...what an apt description! beautiful. THANKS! X j

Anonymous said...

The Russian Tanzanian must be Fred. Now that you bring it up he does kind of remind me of Lenin, mind you I never actually met Lenin.

Enjoy your blog.