For the record, it is 5 in the AM and I AM WIDE EYED AND AWAKE!!! I am almost in AFRICA!
"We do not have a sense of direct continuity. Our ancestors didn't pass down our stories, we've lost them and we have to go out and find them."
Dr. Spencer Wells, The Journey of Man: A Genetic Odyssey
And this is when it happens.
This is the moment where after trying to fall asleep –
Not enough cups of green tea or chamomile tea,
Talking about loves losses, love gains, love aspired, love unknown with Liane and Brittany,
After messing with Victoria who works the night shift at the front desk of the Purser’s Desk in Tymitz Square…
All of these things are only some of things that cause me not be in my sleep.
I have been trying to complete drain myself so I can sleep – BUT I CAN’T!
No, I am not sick.
I am not angry.
I am not…
Instead, I am just eager.
I sit outside of room 4128 which is the room of me, Andre Singleton, and Maxwell Miner (who by the way said it’s okay to be mentioned in my blog).
Max is a really cool dude.
So yeah, I am eager because I can’t believe that I am really about to be in Cape Town, South Africa.
I have such an array of feelings.
Hell, I am still trying to digest Salvador, Brazil.
Quick Story:
On the last day of being in Salvador I decided to get my clothes washed in the city versus the ship because it’s cheaper and I don’t have any money, really. Thus, I go to Pelorhino which is the Old City of Salvdador where you take an actual elevator to get to this upper level…yes, it’s all outside. It’s quite the breath taker. It’s five cents both ways to catch it = 5 cents to go up and 5 cents to come down. And the older city is really scenic and not just touristy but truly beautiful and historical. The connection with the Pelorhino and Bay area struck me tremendously with the history of enslavement of Africans. Like I said, this voyage is so much about identity. Ok, so I shall get back on subject. MY CLOTHES! It was around 2 pm-ish when I decided to take my clothes to get washed and the folks were really nice as I spoke a mix between Uptown Washington Heights Dominican Spanish mixed with San Diego Mexican Spanish blended with 2 days of pre-port Portuguese. I managed to get by with a smile from Maria who resembled a woman that I would have seen growing up in Kansas City, MO except she only spoke Portuguese. She told me to be back at 3.30 because they close at 4. I said cool. Thus, I went back to the lower city where the ship was docked so that I could get my money to pay for my load. Unfortunately, when I get back to the ship we are told that we can’t get on or off of the ship until the engine is done being checked, or some jazz like that…I just knew I was tired and I had to get my $ because it was only several hours before we left port to head to Cape Town. Finally, we are able to board the ship – I am not sure at the time how long it took because I didn’t wear a watch in Salvador. So I get to my room and get ready to exchange my American $ to the Brazilian Rehieis (sp?) only to get to the port Canbio (where currency is exchanged) only to see that they are CLOSED!
*I love the song that is playing, right now – “Andromeda & the Milky Way” by Me'Shell NdegéOcello. GOD, IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL! (sigh)*
Fortunately, I find a local bank and I make the exchange, again using my Portunol (Portuguese y Espanol). And as I pump to the elevator I am headed to the elevator, which now has a long line and this is when I realized time was just ticking away. I just look around and take in the fact that I am in Salvador. Next, I realize that I am up to the front of the line. I pay my 5 cents and show my appreciation to the teller who is collecting the money to get on the elevator with an “obrigado,” (thank you in Portuguese). Before I know it I am back in Pelorhino, but this time I am pumping it in my flip flips down the cobble stone street pass the scores of people bargaining for scarves and beaded necklaces from street vendors, and pass my God Sister!
“Andre!”
I literally stopped dead in my tracks. And those of you that personally know me know that I don’t play when I am walking – I am on a mission. But this greeting was so familiar, it was unlike the accents I have heard since like the states almost a month before. As I get closer and truly scan in through my prescribed red Ray Ban sunglasses, CLASSIC, I realize that it is Iyabo! Iyabo is the daughter of a really dear person in my life that has been around since I was a freshman in high school at Point Loma High School in San Diego, CA. She and I gave each other a big hug, and what did I do??? Yep, got distracted. I asked her for the time and it was 4:00 leaving me with no other option but to abruptly end the convo and tell her not to move. Within minutes I raced through streets only to get to the laundrymat where the lock and bar now replaced the space where Maria and I held the conversation about 2 hrs before. I knew at that moment that I just had to pay it. So I vented for a minute. I let out a couple of “Ain’t that some shit, FUCK, I be got DAMN, and concluded with a Fuck it!” By the time I got back to Iyabo she was looking at me as though I was crazy. She asked where my clothes were and I told her. And she was more irritated than I. That’s when I explained to her that it’s really not a big deal. Granted, I did have a couple of really cute American Apparel t-shirts, 7 jeans, Calvin Klein draws, and 3 pair of super nice swim trunks – speedos, and more. But I knew that no matter what I did that I was not getting the stuff back. I knew when I needed to get back. Whether the ship held me up or running into Iyabo, I knew that it was not serious enough to be upset and not enjoy my last hours before boarding the ship at 9p. I PAID IT, HONEY! M-hmm. And there was growth in it. And Iyabo, bless her heart got me some pants, couple shirts, speedos (oooh la la la), and a beautiful necklace and I am so grateful. It’s so funny how things happen because I know that had the series of events happen before I got up the elevator then I wouldn’t have run into Iyabo. I knew she would be in Brazil but I had not way of contacting her and here she finds me out of all of the black folks in Salvador. Absolutely Amazing! Thanks Ya! It’s all about reaction. My younger brother Jeron taught me that. So, thank you to Jeron.
And sadly, I don’t know if this woman wants me to write this but oh well, as I walk to the line a woman is walking – actually she is sashaying – towards the line. She looks really cute, I can’t even front. But before I know it she just EATS IT! And it wasn’t a flat out fall…it was more like a stumble, stumble, try and catch your fall, SLIDE, and SSSAAAFFFEEE!!! She got a home run. It was intense. And here I am standing in my white and gray striped tank top and gray basketball shorts, and thong sandals blending in so seriously. Hence, being the gentleman that I am *clears throat* I help her up and help her clean her turquoise pants and white blouse and she is soo happy. Don’t you know that she is just talking away and I have no idea what she is saying. Thus, I smile and say “sim” a lot, which means yeah. AWKARD MOMENT! As we finally make our way up to the front of the line she pays for my ride up. Hey! It may only seem like 5 cents but change is such an issue in Brazil. So I didn’t have to break R$1. Shortly, she realizes that I am really not talking much and she speaks Spanish and English to me. We laughed and that was it.
Ok, so maybe that story wasn’t as short as you imagined, but I had to share. That’s why I got this cotton pickin’ blog, anyway.
Ship life is quite interesting. Of course, it feels like it’s shrinking since folks really are getting to know each other. We had Neptune’s Day, which was actually on Valentine’s Day. Oh yeah, I have absolutely no concept of dates or time. Since we have class everyday I have no clue that I have classes on Saturday and/or Saturday. Neptune’s Day is when you cross the Equator. Traditionally, folks shave their heads. However, I didn’t do it because I am doing the opposite. I want to see how much hair I can grow between now and May. It’s difficult because I am used to being really groomed. But I don’t trust everybody’s clippers and the last thing I need is a fierce case of folliculitis! OK! That ain’t cute. Lol. I can’t go into details because I don’t want to ruin it for prospective SAS voyagers. I will put it like this, I participate in a lot of stuff…I am really festive but I didn’t partake. I was too sleepy. I get so tired from all of the rocking of the ship and working. So anyone chance I get to rest, you better know that I get my shut eye. Speaking of rocking – the Atlantic Ocean is NO JOKE! The entire time we have been sailing from Salvador to Cape Town I think about the Middle Passage/ Slave Trade. The fact that folks survived these conditions stacked and thrown on top of each other blows my mind. When I say that on Neptune’s Day that the ship was rocking and drawers were opening and closing, soap and shampoos falling from containers and smashing into the shower ground, dishes and cups falling and breaking in the dining hall, people dropping trays with food…I can’t lie I was laughing because it was all so funny, but it was wild. The ship was swaying. And the best part about all of it is that crew just went on about their business. One of the crew members told me that we haven’t seen anything. On a scale of 1-12 it was about a 6. I am so blown away to know that millions of African were brought over without Dromamine (sp?) and motion sickness patches, no beds and food, no comfortability at all…it fucks with me. This is my reality. My people really have been through a lot. I pay homage and am glad to be able to travel this without those harsh conditions.
In Cape Town, I am ssssooo looking forward to finding a way to get to Robben Island, Table Mountain, learning about District 6, going to Clifton # 3 beach, meet people and eat some amazing food…to say the least. I will also be going to a Jazz Safari. I am very interested to see how it will all pan out.
AFRICA HERE I COME!
And of course I am looking to check out some type of cancer center hopefully be in touch with CANSA, TAC, Malay Quarter, Baxter Theater, taste wine at Groot Constancia, and go to some museums near the Company Gardens, and we shall just see. Clearly, I make plans but the universe and higher powers conspire.
Oh yeah, thanks to a friend by the name of Perran we should be checking out
a conference: The Dream Deferred, Shattered or Redeemed?": Reflections on Thabo Mbeki post-Polokwane.
In conclusion, I was watching a movie tonight and I don’t remember exactly which film it was but there was one line of the movie that caught my eye and I just wanted to share they quote which is actually an African Proverb:
“When two elephants are fighting, the only thing really being hurt is the grass.” (something to that degree)
Just something to think about.
Baie Dankie (thank you in Zulu) – Sounds like “Buy uh Dunkey”
A
::A Note I Wrote Yesterday and thought I'd share::
I got that travelling the world with nothing to eat in the middle of the night, missing friends and family, no kisses and long conversations til I fall asleep blues.
You know - that using up my last few minutes to partake in globalization to post a bulletin on myspace and comment on friends pages that live in the united states blues.
I got that sailing in the middle of Atlantic Ocean blues. The kinda blues that makes me think about what it was like during the Middle Passage and Slave Trade blues. The sway and rocking of the ocean and makes me nauseas as it also puts me to sleep contradictive kinda blues.
That being on a ship full of all white girls and no brothas. Damn, this shit is deep. That kinda blues that Bessie, Anthony, Yolanda, Tracy, and Charlie can't sing or blow away. I got that I can't wait to get to Africa in 2 days blues. That blues that got my with a face full of hair and head, too.
But I wouldn't change it. I won't. I love it. I hate it. I am it. I live in a state of perplexity. 2 months away from celebrating 3 years of living after dying. I am learning to love me - with every quirk, blank mental moment, scars, bruises, discolored skin, fucked up nails and skin, inconsistency of taste buds all due to chemo. Owning my identiy.
A
