Summertime

Summer Time

The last few days have been a wonderful break.

Company brought an excursion to the beach

where we encountered soft sand, feathered friends

waves, sailing ships

swimming and sunning to our hearts content.

 I love not feeling like I have to do anything

be anywhere, or worry about what life holds next.

It is all left behind

as the hot sand sears away all responsibilities

and worries of tomorrow.

I wonder what I would do if I lived there

with the beach outside my window

and the waves beckoning day and night

would I still love it?

Of course!

As I would always have stuff like this to come home to

that would drive me right back out again.

Anyone up for the beach again tomorrow?

The Eyes of a Nation

With Brett walking, talking and breathing freely again, we had done some cursory investigations of the city of Maputo.  It lay heavy on my soul though. Maputo’s fall from grace  seemed to have left all of its inhabitants affected, including myself. I begged for a change in scenery. I felt somehow scarred by the visions of children living in such abject poverty. My station in life left me above the reminders of civil war, disease and destitution that seemed to be everywhere. I could not take it anymore and we all agreed to move on. The sad eyes watched us leave the capital city and remained in my mind’s eye for many days to come. I felt hopeless and needed to cleanse myself from the sorry state that I likened Mozambique to be in. Pushing off, we hugged the coast and battled the currents North.

We chugged into Xai Xai and set up our tents. The Indian Ocean was large as life beside us and we relaxed some to be out of the city. Little markets were plentiful with women dressed in traditional sarongs sitting behind piles of bananas and little tomatoes. A bar graced our campground that we stayed at and I managed to chat over a beer with a woman who had recently emigrated from Namibia. She found it too quiet for her liking in Xai Xai and wished for more excitement. I far preferred it to our last stop in Maputo, but understood her need for something to do. The children’s smiles bloomed large on all the little faces we saw. While I could not forget, I managed to let go of some of the horrors of Maputo and began to enjoy Mozambique and its beauty.

We spent a few nights in Xai Xai, then moved on to Praia de Tofo. Here is where the blues of the ocean in front of me stole my heart. The pure white sand beach beckoned to me and I could not resist. I battled the scorching heat coming from the silky sands to plunge into the salty waters. It was heavenly to gently paddle in the warm waves that ebbed in and out. While it was too hot to sit in the direct sunlight, I did lay my towel down to soak up the pristine beauty of Mozambique’s coastline. I wondered how there could be so much suffering in such a beautiful place. Was it the heat that made people’s demeanours turn hostile? Did my colder clime make the people more prone to huddle together  and therefore more temperate in nature?

My musings were interrupted by the appearance of a boy in front of me. He said nothing, but followed my movements with his eyes. He appeared tiny, but his eyes seemed huge. They held all that Mozambique was. I could not resist and snapped a picture of him. His silence reminded me that I did not know his language or experiences, but he was beautiful none-the-less. We did not live in the same world, but could inhabit the same moment.

The child’s father materialized and smiled shyly at us as well. While English was not his first language, we managed to understand from him that his son was four years old. Miki and I  gave them some barracuda that we had dined on the night before and their appreciation was evident. I tried not to stare, but could not get over the size of the boy. We had seen children in Xai Xai that had claimed to be between 12 and 16. To me they had looked more like between 6 and 12. I pondered  again on what it was that formed these people the way they were. Did lack of vitamins and proper nutrition stunt the children’s growth so much or did the atmosphere of war factor in as well? I was supposing and questioning, but could not truly know the answers. I had not lived here, breathed here or grown up here. I could only guess at their lives paths. I don’t know if I really wanted to know the answers.

Late day interlude at the beach

SNAPSHOTS OF THE BEACH;

Waves rolling in;

Crests white in dying day

with sun-kissed wind

for summer's play.

Sand castles built

while sand babies smiling

dig for treasure troves

of miracle mirth hiding.

Pleasant passage.

Disappointment plain

at dinner bell's toll,

but bellies rule hours, thus

may tomorrow's sun play main role.

Camping comedown

   I have returned to the land of indoor plumbing, air conditioning and daycare (blissful daycare that I dropped my darling babies off to this morning!). I am welcomed home to a mammoth pile of laundry of truly gargantuan proportions. I think I counted 8 potential loads, but there might be more to be squeezed in. It is mind-boggling how much laundry can be accumulated in such a short span of time. I can barely step into my laundry room, with every square inch crowded with smoke-saturated articles. Dirt is ground into towels, jeans, shirts and shorts. Lake Erie sand is sprinkled in everything, but especially coated on bathing suits and beach blankets. Excuse me while I go switch over a load...

    Ahh, despite all the prep work before and clean-up after, I do love camping. Once you have set up your temporary enclave, the biggest task is to learn how to relax. Food and beverage is imbibed freely and regularly. Dishes seem to be never-ending, but somehow do not seem too taxing when done outdoors. We were at the beach every day soaking up the fresh air, sunshine and washing it all down with a hefty dose of swimming and splashing in the nearest Great Lake to our home. With it being the shallowest of the Great Lakes, the water temperature was quite warm. It was refreshing enough to cool you down and wash away the sweat from a hard days work (suntanning?), but not startling enough to turn all the men into eunuchs and women into glass-cutting nipple-wielding  terrors. One day, we enjoyed terrific wave bashing into a torrent of white-crested water, but the subsequent days were more along the lines of peaceful splashing in the rolling waves. Fun for kids and adults alike. 

    All that fresh air and fun was definitely enough to work up an appetite as well. My other favourite thing about camping is the food. Cooking on a Coleman is challenging at times, but nothing beats that morning cup of coffee it produces. The campfire is where the real magic is made though. Steaks seared to perfection were the order of the day on Day 1. Hot dogs just can't be beat over the open flame and where else does the humble marshmallow shine so brightly, as but over the glowing embers of a fire pit. It always amazes me how much I can eat while camping, but it is just all tastes so good! Oh yum. 

    As I change another load of laundry, I can smile at the memories that were created for my children. They thrilled at their beach days, sleeping outdoors in a tent, bush pees (everybody does it, don't they?!) and togetherness with friends and family. While I know I had my grumpy moments, I prefer to forget them and focus on the smiles of my children and laughter of my friends. I shall perhaps share a photo or two in the days that come, but today cleanup is the name of the game. I hope you are enjoying your summer, for those of you in the Northern hemisphere. I certainly am.