The truth is miles apart...

Goodness gracious.
I am in an internet cafe, right now.
Penang, Malaysia.
Still processing Chennai, India.
WTF?? I swear to God.
Man, seriously, I...have been trying to compose my thoughts, not even for the sake of writing a blog entry but just for the sake of Andre.
Moreover, this isn't a blog about India.

I am happy to have checked my email for the first time in ages and have a few emails. People have told me that they missed me. It feels good. I have to always make sure that I don't give off the wrong vibe...I AM NOT MISERABLE!

*thinking*

Okay. This reminds me of the times when people think that I have an attitude because I am not talking or being super involved in the conversation. Sometimes I just sit back. I can't explain the space that I am in - I am just in it. The world is every extreme possible. From staying in a Dalit Village in South India to watching a shadow puppet show at University Science Malaysia and hanging out with students from all over Malaysia. I DON'T HAVE WORDS FOR IT! I often hear people talk about that they are doing things they only dreamt about - I have never event dreamt about certain things. The knowledge that I have/had of places such as Malaysia are to the extent of knowing that clothes and shoes are/were made here. Learning and seeing places like District 6 in S. Africa where Blacks, Coloureds,and Malays lived but were forced to move from...I am not only learning about it but trailing the footsteps and connecting the dots. And no matter how much I write, and to what depth...it's a whole different impact to see it...in addition to all the other factors that I talk about. Don't worry, I am not in danger of having an aneurysm from it all.

All in all - I am indeed having a great time. But it's not the good time that one automatically considers as a good time with everyone holding hands and drifting through the world with delightful naivety.

The food in Malaysia is uber good.
I am learning to eat with my right hand - scoop with the finger tips and not lick my fingers. This I learned in India. In addition, I did it while eating lunch.

Oh yeah, so funny, soon as I got off of the ship I was walking off of the dock to the main street where there were cab drivers...and soon as they see me they start calling me brother and asking me where I was from. Did I not just get off the ship? Yeah, it's consistent in every port, thus far. I know this black guy did not get off of the ship. So I have been African, European, Caribbean - everything but American. And of course, I get updated on the US politics "You like Obama? Yes, brotha, I like Obama. We want him." So though, I don't get the paper and don't have internet minutes, I can expect a good convo shortly after my arrival. I just have to give it time.

I have a small afro and a face of facial hair. I more than likely won't shave until I get back to NYC - in May. I thought I'd stay in Miami for a minute...NOPE! It will be nice to visit but I miss home. I can honestly say it. Again, I am not hoping this voyage goes by faster, NO, but I feel it's important to acknowledge how I feel. I miss text messaging, I miss unlimited email, I miss late night phone calls, I miss friends, I miss family, I miss friends that have become family, I miss family that has become friends, I miss crashing people's iceboxes. But I said it once and I will say it again I LOVE THE SPACE I AM IN! It is so real. In fact, it's real to the nth degree. I have traveled and moved around enough to know when I feel a certain way. I remember moving from Kansas City to San Diego when i was 14. It was hard as hell in the beginning. In fact, I never quite got used to it, but I learned to appreciate it and now I truly appreciate it...it's a part of me. Next, when I went to Morehouse College and did everything on my own...hurt like hell, then got cancer, but I pushed through. Feelings never quite went away of wanting to study there but my path is different. I still have tinges of anger, distress, incompleteness, but then again I live in NYC, now. It's like a relationship and how they pan out. You may not be with your first love but that next love will be completely different. I am not a fool. It's some universal theme in life...I can't articulate it, nor figured it out...but it exists.

I love my voyage
I hate my voyage
I am happy
I am pissed
I am pleased
I am unsatisfied
I am irritated
I am irritating
I express.

It's a trade off.

ps - in the picture if you look really closely then you will see that you can finely see through my lens. The rest of the landscape shows that I am but I am a microcosm of a macrocosm. This blog reflects how I see and am experiencing things. Life doesn't come with instructions or explanations. Those are up to us.

Well, I need to try and figure out some things online.

Right now, I am listening to "Mikey Rocks" by The Cool Kids. My roommate gave me this song.

"No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow."

— Lin Yutang

Andre

A is for Africa - M is for Mauritius

Zulu, Xhosa, English, American, Capetonian, black, African, Table Mountain, townships, music, dance, Robben Island, Waterfront, Green Point, Green Market Flea Market, Enslavement, Europe, disconnection, apartheid, gay, shade, cool, wind, love, blank, beads, bush, manhood, womanhood, tradition, struggle, sunset, Exclusive Bookstore, Bahamadia, New York City, Midwest, San Diego, California, disbelief, belief, Africana, ignorance, Malawi, ocean, Coloureds, accent(s), exoticism, oppression, scenery, wine, class, negotiation, yearning, truth, validation, coarse, thick, identical, World Cup, 2010, colonization, repetition, amnesty, Castle, Appletizer, Toyi Toyi, fuck it, thoughtful, COMPLEX, identity, co-exist, co-habit, rand, dollar, patience, self-fulfilling prophet(s), braids, influence, Wood fire, import, circumnavigate, smile, hurt, repression, global, spiritual, sexual, financial, sensual, siblings, peace, disdain, antipathy, question, worry, passport, unknown, familiar, food, HIV/AIDS, health, strategic, divide, dependence, rejection, re-build, oblivious, ignored, confused, speechless, frustrated, speechless, awe, spell bound, brilliant, royal, scents, feelings, numb, alone, lonely, free, liberated, restricted, perform, relationship, interaction, gray = black and white, murky, seals, elant, experience, Bronx, Beulah, Pride, (mis)educate, rage, beauty, fierce, future, past, present, liaison, currency…

These are the words that I wrote while free writing immediately after leaving Cape Town. Right now, it is 3/6/08 and the time is 2:07am. I am sitting and thinking – as I listen to the Mauritian National Anthem plays in my ipod. We left Mauritius, now, 2 days ago. I really enjoyed Mauritius.

Cape Town…1st I must mention the young lady that really made my trip special – Ms. Lerato. I met Lerato at her place of work while asking how to get to a bar/club to meet up with friends. She was so got damn funny and we immediately said we’d have to hangout. After using 4 pages of my planner to describe how to get to Bronx nightclub she gave me her cell and told me that she wanted me to go to a concert with her.

- Rewind –

The first day off of the ship I went to Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela and other political prisoners were incarcerated under seriously harsh conditions. I initially didn’t know how to feel. I am an emotionally honest person, often I feel to a fault, so I wanted to make sure that I brought myself completely. Compliments of educators like Tchaiko Kwayana and Maryemma Graham I have been aware of the Apartheid Act - google it, and the impact of Nelson Mandela.

After the 15-20 minute boat ride from the mainland to Robben Island I stood in silence. I couldn’t speak. I first of all was still trying to take in the fact that I was in Africa, period. The fact that the stress and strain of making this happen this past semester showed me that each day of sea sickness, each tinge of loneliness, every annoyed thought of having to write a paper, every moment of being frustrated by financial circumstances all made sense as I stood on the small boat that seated about 15 people, tops. I remember vividly wondering how it must have felt to be Steve Biko or Mandela to unwillingly have to take the same ride to this island that treated them less than human. The entire voyage on Semester at Sea, especially through the Middle Passage, makes me think of how I travel willingly where my ancestors didn’t even know where they were going. But before I go on a tangent I must finish. So as the boat actually pulls into Robben Island which is now a full out tourist affair I just try and brace myself. We all (students and faculty) board buses that have big glass windows and no air conditioning. Right above the top of the bus is the entrance of Robben Island and though it looks like it has been touched up it still gives me the feeling of uneasiness. Not even 200 meters into the prison area, which is actually a small town, we have to pump our breaks to let a small black penguin cross. It was adorable. It was bizarre to see this penguin crossing the street in Africa. It almost sounds like a bad joke…”what did the bus driver that saw the black penguin crossing the street in Africa…?” –drum roll- Exactly, I digress. But after that we begin to get the spiel about the island and its history. Initially, Robben Island is where the folks that suffered from Leprosy would be hauled off. We were shown the quarters in which the inmates had to work mining limestone for 8-12 hours a day (hours aren’t exact). It was so intense to see. Then we finally made it to the quarters in which the inmates and Mandela occupied. First, I must share that there was a moment in which I was fuckin scared as hell. So those who know me know that I am not a scary person but I can be frightened fairly easily. So the acoustics in the prison were fierce. Our guide was incarcerated during the same time as Mandela and as we were leaving one of the rooms, not cell, he slams the door and it rips through the hallways. I am so glad that I didn’t have diarrhea from the food in S. Africa because I wouldn’t have had it just oozing down my leg. Talking about scaring the shit out of someone. But in all honesty, it really startled me. But he didn’t use a lot of force, it was just the way it was built. And he mentioned that he’d hear that all the time – morning, noon, night, ALL THE TIME! Mentally, that will get to someone. And fortunately for me my mind seems to operate in some type of matrix or matrices format so I feel like Raven Simone on the show “That’s so Raven” when she just zones out and envisions things. So in that moment I imagined these prisoners being frustrated, and just living in hurt on so many levels. The guide also mentioned that when letter were written to them that they would get letter, but not the body of it. Yes! The actually body of the letter would be cut out. So it will read like “ Dear Johnny, … Love, Moma.” Where the “…’s” are will cut out. Can you imagine? And when writing letters they’d have to write how “well” they are being treated or the letter wouldn’t make it out. And the main part that really got to me is the fact that this wasn’t LONG AGO! The Apartheid ended like yesterday. I really can’t even form my thoughts on Cape Town and my feelings, yet. I am still in disbelief at things. Shortly after he shared his story with us we had chance to see Manela’s cell. We looked at his garden. I didn’t look; I re-lived. I thought about the fact that he had a red bucket for his using the bathroom. His bed? There wasn’t one. He slept on a mat. I am still going through it as I write, now. I had previously read that the black prisoners had to wear shorts (short pants) and at one point Mandela had the opportunity to wear them but he refused until the rest of the black prisoners did, as well.

FUCK! I can’t even gather my thoughts and it’s frustrating. My friend Jazmine gave me the sweetest S. African house music that gets me on some real chill and reflective type of ish. But as I sit here I can feel the frustration of systematic inequalities, fuckin ignorance, vintage/retro ignorance and racism, sexism, homophobia, fulfilled self-hating prophecies, generational underdevelopments of peoples globally, health taken for granted, unseen and unrecognized beauty. I lie to you not – I can feel my stomach tense. It hurts on so many levels. The song that I am listening to right now is named “Spinnin (Life Keeps On)” by Blackwhole and Mimi. The lyrics…

“Life keeps on turning turning turning, life keeps on pushing pushing pushing pushing…
Life keeps on turning turning turning, life keeps on pushing pushing pushing pushing…
(repeat over and over and over and over)

Just to make things right,
Ohhhhhhhh hhhhooooooooo…

All that I am hoping for is to make things right,
oOOOOOoooooo hhheeeeYYYYYYY”

Simple but powerful. The beat is EVERYTHING! She is just singing. I am not even going to apologize for my thought being everywhere…tis what it is. Ya smell me? But it is really blowing my mind how every country the people speak to me in whatever language is the language spoken. That…is phenomenal. As a kid I didn’t know this type of shit would happen. No one talks about how people of African descent/black people/Afro, etc. were in all of these places. I have been Puerto Rican, Brasilero, Black, Coloured, Bahemian, S. African, Mauritian, and even English and Jamaican. The visibility is showing. The agency is eye opening. It’s amazingly complex. The fact that I grew up in Kansas City, Missouri, and San Diego, CA and when I travel people have no idea they just hit me with an “Oi, tudo bem,” or “Como estas?” just shows me that our ancestors were more than slaves. I can attest to the fact that the extent of African American/Diasporic history was reduced to the Mayflower and Stepin Fetchit. Colonization has done a fuckin number on black people around the world. I will never forget when a white guy came up to me at a bar on the Waterfront by Victoria Wharf Mall and says “OH MY GOODNESS, MAN! You look like a Zulu Man but speak English so well.” What in the hell? Now, some would definitely argue that he just got excited to see someone that “looks African” speak English with an American accent. I felt so carnavalized. It was a disappointing moment. This dude was so excited. And I asked him to excuse himself, which he did. Again, another moment of sheer blankness. I just sat out and a lot of thoughts negotiated moments to entertain me about this entire voyage. And as beautiful as Cape Town I have to admit that it may be a minute before I return. Though, I must admit Lerato, Rhea, Lia, Sophia, Alex, Sele, Nick, Victor, Victoria, Mike, and so many other folks showed me such an amazing time, there were just moments my spirit just didn’t feel it. I felt an array of feelings. There was just such a major disconnect. And I will just get some discourse going on that in the near future. I am at a standstill. I was so sad to part with Lerato and the girls because on the last night we went and partied at Moma Zula’s on Long St. Since it was Gay Pride we were going to go to the Red Party but vetoed it when they wanted 80+ rands. We had a blast though, dancing and just building and deconstructing my experiences in Cape Town, my perception and knowledge, sexuality, blackness, feminism, misogyny, she-ness, beauty, Western World, co-existence, fusion, repression, ignorance, boys, hot sex, education, love and love lost, reality, masculinity, traveling, African Diaspora, prospective great friendships, universal conspiracies, pain, progression, cancer, naivety, and the list goes on. After dropping Rhea off we went to Camps Bay Beach to watch the sunrise. Though the sun rose behind our heads over Table Mountain we watched the sky turn cotton candy blue and pink and listen to the tides crash into the sand. I took a power nap right before…because a brotha get sleep-ay! But in those last minutes before deciding to get in the car and drop me off to get ready for disembarkation Lerato walked off wearing my brown pashmina scarf that perfectly blended with with her denim skirt, Rhea and I sat in silence…I listened to my thoughts. I instantly thought about John Mayer’s song “3x5” that a friend introduced me to nearly 2 years ago who I recently spoke to after a disagreement months ago. The song talks about not taking pictures of travels, but about his appreciation for him being in the moment and when time permits he will write about it – if he feels like it. And I echoed his sentiments. I just took it in. Riding back to the ship we couldn’t get radio well, all static, so we sat in silence before Lerato started talking, again. It was great.

Goodness, I will have to write about S. Africa again, later.

Mauritius was great. I had such a great time. Keep in mind, I had NEVER heard of this place prior to looking into Semester at Sea – 7 months ago. We arrived at the time of the pilgrimage for the Hindu God Shiva. People were walking all over the island to Grand Bason to pay homage to the God. On the first day of embarkation I went to Grand Baie beach and was fortunate to meet a couple that owned a shop with an assortment of things from postcards to wraps. My goal is to always get to a spot that sells postcards so I can send them to my great grandma and school Union. So in the process of doing this I wanted to also eat some good ol Mauritian food which I heard was SUPER good. I learned previously that it’s a fusion of Afro/Indo/Chinese food. In the process, a young guy at the store started speaking to me in English after attempting creole and next thing you know a huge discussion was launched about my travels and what it’s like and so much more. I mentioned that I was interested in seeing Shiva at Grand Bason (there is a larger than life Shiva in the South of the island) and before you know it the couple invites me to go with them later that evening. Though I wasn’t scared, I questioned if I should be. I mean wouldn’t you? I sometimes wonder why I am so friendly. But it’s just me. But let me tell you – I am not a push over or fool. So don’t get it twisted. I believe the universe guides me. This is how I got to and around NYC, as well. So I take the Lena and Pietro Monaco upon their offer and agree to meet them at 11pm at the Waterfront near wear the ship is docked. I invited a friend, Liane, who I knew would love to go. But traveling for women can be tougher because things can happen. So I invited her around 10.30pm and she is super excited. She put her white on and look all Indian and stuff like that and stuff, m-hmm. And we wait and I call her from the water taxi phone and Lena is apologizing for running late, I guess CP time is CP around the world, OKAY? lol. Soon enough we see a van pull up across the street but we don’t go to it. Beneath our breath without looking at each other we are like “Don’t go because we don’t know if that’s her, let’s wait til someone gets out and flags us down or something. Hell, they know my name – it’s French. Andre is easy to remember. Shoot.” So after a standing and looking for all of 4 minutes she gets out and I swear you can see her pretty smile from across the street. The only problem is that there was a median and Liane would have to jump it – with a white skirt on – and she’s such a lady that it was not a good idea. But in the same breath she was with me and she knew I didn’t care, and she from DC, DC IN THE HOUSE!!! lol. So she jumps and we get the party started. We get in the van and see that this is a definitely a family affair. I mean we got a 4 row joint and every row is occupied with enough space for Liane and my cakes to sit. I didn’t realize that it was a little girl sitting next to me leaning on her mother asleep so I was all rough sitting down til I realized that was a butt bone. So I was like damn, this is gon be a long awkward ride. But I paid it and got over it, quickly.

The time was about 1am as we drove about an hour south. The car has Lena’s sister, cousins, son, husband, and friends in the car. The 2 younger ladies looked like they were about 15 and 16 years old. And man were they cool? We get in the car and say hi to everyone and they are just in their own worlds and hit me with a head nod indicating a “what’s up.” I thought it was so endearing. Which by the way, Mauritius is an island which is majority Indian (from India – a brotha gotta be clear) who were brought over and enslaved, as well as Africans. The French colonized, so did the Dutch, and the English, I believe (I would google it but internet cost and this is being typed in Microsoft Word…just open another window and google it). All I know is that it was so interesting, at first, to see Indians speaking French and Creole in a tropical setting. I said to myself “God, I have to commit my life to traveling and learning!” To see the many people trekking from all over the island – North, West, and East – to the South was amazing. They wore white. The people were of all ages. They carried gifts for Shiva and they were different sizes and beautiful. After being knocked in the car Liane and Lena tap me and tell me that we are almost there and I as I stuck my head lower so I could actually see through the front window I was in awe. Shiva was HUGE! It made me think of Statue of Liberty and Christ the Redeemer (Rio, Brazil). Incredible. But the “gotcha hon” is the fact that it was this kind of metallic gold or bronze, thus it really drew you in. It was gi-normous! And water spouted from the top of its head that was imported from The Ganges in India. I don’t practice Hinduism but I was so humbled and I looked around and took it all in. Lena and the fam allowed us to bear witness to their celebration and praises. I learned a lot. Thank you so much Lena and Pietro. All the way towards Shiva, on the path of the pilgrimage, there were rest stops for those participating. And before leaving we had a chance to go to a rest stop for some Chai Tea and Roti with Curry. IT WAS SO GOOD! While headed back to the ship to turn in for the night I didn’t go to sleep this time. I just looked at the miles and miles of green land being blown by the wind. The streets were empty and everyone else was sleep. I thought to myself “I am fuckin traveling the world…this is just the beginning – a snapshot.” No, a tear didn’t roll down my eye or anything – this isn’t a novel. But it hit me hard. I thought about how I am a survivor and how almost 3 years ago I didn’t think I would make it and this time in 2005 I was soooo sick. More to come.

There will be more to come, later. I am not done.
I just have to get to bed. I am not sleepy but I must rest.

Next, we are voyaging to India.

India is a huge country with a LOT of people.

Oh yeah…just had a thought. There will definitely be more about Mauritius to come. I had a great time. I didn’t do anything major. I just had a beautiful time. Mauritius is beautiful. I will never forget how many people, especially these young guys, didn’t believe that I wasn’t Mauritius because my name is Andre. Who’d of thunk it??? Lol. From what I know my father was named Andre after his sister’s boyfriend at the time. Thank you Aunt Elberia! Random as hell.

OH YEAH! Last thing, I promise. There are some songs that I swear are following me as I make footprints across the world and one in particular is “Love Is Gone” by David Guetta - Fred Rister and Joachim Garraud radio edit mix. I heard it first in Salvador at Carnaval and fell in love. I literally feel like I am dancing like a madd man behind the Fatboy Slim or (Fah-chehh Boy Slim-ay – Portuguese accent) everytime the beat dropped. I LIVE FOR THIS TRACK! It’s ssssooo good. I am getting into the fact that other places outside of the States appreciate an amazing and pulsating house and techno track. WORK!! I am listening to it now. This is aiding in my lack of sleepiness. Just get into it for me and let it take you over. *shaking head and singing “Noooooowwwww, that the lovvveee is goonneee” and anticipating the beat dropping…YYYYYYYEEESSSSSS* All I need is a Skol and Natalia and the fam! Live, Love, Laugh

A is for Always Andre

A is for Africa...

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

Bahia, Africa

Really.
That quickly...in the blink of an eye.
But not really, though.
What?
Departing from Salvador de Bahia, Brazil.
Its always tough for me to decide if I should write a blog entry or email folks. The emailing is challenging because there are so many things to say and folks to email. Thus, I remind myself that this voyage is not about staying connected like I am at home but to really breakaway, as much and as realistically, as possible. Come on now, of course I check my myspace and facebook as soon as I get on the computer, but I dont have the time or energy to really engage. I really check it to stay on top of any news or contacts for my next port.

Salvador, Salvador, Salvador...
From driking Guarana, Skol, eating fried cheese with oregano and honey on the beach in Barra at Porto - and catching the bus, not to be left out, eating açai with granola, cashews, and raisins...and truly working on my Portugese - I definitely feel like I am walking away with growth.

One of my goals is to truly travel the world, even after Semester at Sea and truly engage in as much cultural immersion, as possible.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to go to a few cancer centers in Salvador - NACCI (Nucleo Apoio Combate do Cancer Infantil) and NASPEC (Nucleo Assistencial Para Pessosas Com Cancer). I am fortunate to have been able to articulate this interst to our interport lecturer, Javier and he arranged it. I am going to try and see a center for cancer or a serious illness in each port - especially one centered around young folks, which these were. The children were fun and we really had a chance to vibe, despite the language barrier. Luckily, the spanish helps tremendously. Plus, with body language and Pedro (who is 11 and as charismatic and energetic as I am) things were fine. In addition, Paulinia who is battling osteo sarcom beat me in tic tac toe a few times...shes a beast with the x on the paper. Its wild how initially they were under the impression that i was just chilling with them until Ricardo who was the actual escort really translated everything - he told them and they didnt believe it. The kids and I shared scars from surgeries and non-healed scratch marks and pictures of me with no hair. The energy shifted. I am grateful. I dont know. Its hard to believe that this really is only the beginning of the semester still and I am working on making the Paris program happen. I can only take it one day at a time.

Well, my minutes are low. Next, we are headed to Cape Town, South Africa. I will write more later. Obviously, my whole writing my blog in Word first and then transferring has yet to manifest. I just write whats on my mind. Hell, this isnt a these...but who knows...one day it may be.

We set sail at 9p. Damn, back to class and work tomorrow. lol. I actually like my classes and work though, so I am fine.

Bon,
a

All I got is 15 minutes...

You know what sucks?
The fact that I wrote a blog entry last night and it did not post.
Oh well, I let it go.
I seriously have less than 15 minutes, right now.

BRASIL IS AMAZING!!!

The ship got into port yesterday morning and I hit the ground running. Initially, I had a few folks that I was supposed to catch up with - and still will, but it was pandemonium just trying to gather my thoughts and the fact that I had just made it.

I am very glad to say that a young lady named Natalia has been so sweet and amazing. She and her family hosted me and invited me to CARNIVALE! Btw, if you have not been to Carnivale or know about it then google it. WOW! Thats all I have to say. Needless to say, I have yet to really sleep. I will elaborate more later. Also, I went to a Condemblé (sp?) ceremony and was truly amazed.

The African diaspora really draws me and calls my name. I am blown away by life and experiences. The fact that Brasil has the largest black population outside of Nigeria IN THE WORLD I am...man, I dont even know. The Black Experience. Oh yeah, I have also been learning my Portugese. I manage to mix my Spanish with it.

I hate to be abrupt but my minutes are about to expire. Oh yeah, I am in Pelourinho in Salvador - the upper part of the city. Its beautiful and full of history.

Tomorrow I am going to the Verger Foundation and will check out his work on the African Diaspora.

BLACK PEOPLE ARE BEAUTIFUL!

Minutes are gone.

Tchau,
A

Brasil....

I can't write much because I don't have many minutes left for my internet.
So not cool.
But right now, I am on the 3rd deck sitting and being.
I am a few hours outside the port of Salvador de Bahia (Brazil).
AMAZING!
Things are going well.

Will write more later.

Best,
A

Man, I am in effin' Brazil! Wowness!

Chasing Summer...

Ok. This has been quite a week. It caught me offguard when I just realized that this voyage has been under siege for 5 days.
Let me start from the beginning.

The ship is great. I have a cool roommate - my living situation was de-trippled. There are 730 students to be exact. Students are from EVERYWHERE! There are about 200 crew members that maintain the ship and we have about 30 faculty. I enjoy the food. The three designated meals a day is heaven. However, the first few days were really rough. I discovered my seasickness. The motion and unsteadiness made me so nauseaus. But because I had so much prior experience due to chemo I knew what to do - BE STILL! So when I wasn't working or in class I was in the bed.

*Random moment - Listening to "Again" by John Legend at a Starbucks in San Juan, Puerto RIco. Hey, gotta wireless internent *looks out the top of glasses. However, it isn't too hard to believe because Puerto Rico is a commonwealth of the US. I almost feel like I am in Cali.*

In addition, due to wearing flip flops on the ship I managed to cut my pinky toe. I already had a slight cut from carrying things and helping the other students get acclimated to the ship, somehow I slightly cut it. However, the first day after waking up and headed to our orientation meeting I managed to trip over a step we must have hit a wave or something - I hyperextended my toe by missing the step and cut it pretty deeply. That hurt. So I missed some of the meeting and have been nursing my toe for the past few days. Good times.

Jan. 23, 2008 - Seeing a tugboat support in moving from the Bahemian port to get started on the journey was so wild for 2 reasons.

Reason 1: I didn't know tugboats were real! I was really excited to see it. I hadn't even said the word tugboat since I was like 6 or 7, I think. The name of the little tugboat - well, it looked small from where I was on the 6th deck of the ship - MV Explorer. The majority of the students, if not all, were all standing outside bidding our farewells to the people standing at on dryland. There were tears, there were faces full of happiness. Some happy to embark upon seeing many cultures and meeting many people, some to get the hell away - period, some of mystery, and etc. The common denominatior is that we all looked out and knew that we have an interesting couple of months ahead of us. I mean it's so wild to now have to live with 800+ new people. Well, yeah, granted, some folks have made myspace friends, facebook, clubs from school, but nothing can really prepare you for the rest. Luckily, I knew of one friend through a friend. Her name is Liane and she is actually sitting right in front of me at Starbucks as I write this piece. Even better is that she lives like 4 doors down.

Reason 2: I have a window with my cabin - LOVE IT! It was truly remarkable to go to sleep to the ocean at your side and to wake up and see the ocean. And as I've mentioned I got motion sickness, in the same breath, the ocean made me feel like I was being rocked, como un bebe, and I slept soooo well. I can't help but realize the fact that there are like schools of fish beneath the ship as we sail. After being on the ship for a few days it took me by surprise that I wasn't stressed, but actually felt pretty good. Well, we did hit a few rough patches that had me reaching for the motion sickness patch with a quickness. But it all worked out. Thus, getting closer to San Juan, Puerto Rico I was really confused when we are docked and I get to leveled land and it feels weird. I guess I've partially grown my "sea legs."

The name of the blog came from listening to one of our admin folks during his speech. I loved it when he said that we will be chasing summer. The time thing is not hard but weird. It takes me a minute to realize what time it is when I email or try to call someone. My little phone card was docked so many minutes from calling from an international payphone.

While in port I had the opportunity to go on a full city tour of San Juan y Old San Juan. In addition, we had a welcome reception and had the fortune of interacting with students at Universidad Interamericana de Puerto Rico. I had a great time and had a great time speaking Spanish and dancing salsa and really having conversations about the academic experiences that parallel and don't.

Our next port of call is Salvador, Brazil. I am really looking forward. More to come.

I am just writing off of the top of my head, right now. I realized the best thing for me to do is to write things in Microsoft Word and then transfe when I get internet access.

Fortunately, I am one of the folks that greets the students when they come to port.

Well, I must packup and get ready to head back. We hit the seas again, tonight.