Thus the long letter is begun. I write to you smiling, in spite of being trapped, as I am, in a kind of purgatory; Heathrow is a mall, and I've no escape!
...I spent most of the night trying, rather unsuccessfully, to sleep. But that meant that a fair amount of drifting - into and out of sleep was done. And this I like: all those dozy thoughts that bleed into one another...Nice, I think, because none of the thoughts are meant to be hung onto, so there's no regret at losing them.
...Today we went to the art gallery, to see the work of William Kentridge. You would have loved it, I think. He does these fantastic (dark, funny, playful) sortof animated short films by drawing and erasing on the page. Very political and v.v. cool. We'll find some of his work someday...
...Part of me thinks this is stupid - that I should stop and leave and go do all the other work I've started and hang out with my father...But I'm also glad to be here - with people who can laugh at miserable things, who can be crazy and talk about it and carry right on being incredibly caring and bright; who love second-hand-clothes and start massive art projects and hospices and anti-retroviral programs; who love cheese and yoghurt and tea and walking...
...In other news, the beach is stunning and walks with the dogs are blissful. My accent is quickly morphing. Jaqueline's dogs killed a chicken overnight, and she is torn, because in the village, one is supposed to kill a dog that has killed a chicken. They're supposed to protect, not eat, these valuable commodities (and it was her rooster that they killed!). But she loves these dogs, and doesn't know what to do. I made the kids (about to write their final grade 12 exams) laugh by goofily "dancing" to illustrate nervous/hormonal coordination in Bio. yesterday. Meanwhile, I'm begging them to let me play soccer with them...
...I find here in this isolated little dorp, it's more clear how people are symbols to one another...
...Instead I'll tell you how funny I looked on the deserted beach that my dad and I were hiking along on Saturday. We'd finally reached the rocks, and there found some respite from the driving wind, as well as a vantage point from which to see the angry sea. And what should I hear from my pack? Cell phone ringing! My dad has photos of me (taken, I'll add, with his camera-phone) at last immersed in the culture o my time...Just as I have always whined that I didn't ever want to be so reachable, I have been reached!...
...I miss you, and think of you often...
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