African Madonna

Every now and then, I take a walk down to one of my peaceful places, St George's Cathedral, in Wale Street, in the city centre of Cape Town. It takes me less than five minutes from work to get there, and I enjoy the walk through town, especially the little stalls in the side streets. I must admit, I usually go there when I need something, when I need to withdraw myself from the frenzy of everyday life and just sit quietly.... and think.... and be. I tend to gravitate towards it when I'm experiencing an extreme emotion of some kind, or when I need to sort my head out about something. I find myself there when I need to ask for something or when I need to give thanks for something.

I don't know what it is about the cathdral that I find so riveting, but one of the most amazing things in that building is a wooden statue called the African Madonna. It's carved out of a very dark wood, and was made, under commission, by an Englishman called Leon Underwood, in 1935. He was born in 1891. He alleges the shape of the original piece of wood suggested the shape of the end result. The plaque on the wall, next to the statue, says he carved the wood so that one half looked like the Virgin and the other the Madonna with child.

So, yes, I'm struck by the powerful message of this statue, but what adds that magical, other-worldly touch are the candles at its base. I go there, I stare at the statue and I light a candle, often not able to find the words to express what I'm there for. Silence is a form of communication filled with meaning.

The last time I went there, I sat in the main section of the church, closed my eyes and became still, shutting out everything, everyone, everywhere, and I opened my spirit to a new energy. I don't know how to explain this, but suddenly I started smiling and I just couldn't stop - from somewhere deep inside, I felt a wonderful, warm, reassuring glow, and a feeling of excitement about things to come, like I haven't had in years.

As long as I'm working in town, I should visit the African Madonna regularly. Strong symbolism.

And so I smile,....

Back at Food Lover's Market for rest of July

Heard this afternoon that our gig at Food Lover's Market, in Claremont (Cape Town), is back on track for the next two Saturdays, 24 and 31 July. Yeah!!!! Once again, guitarist Wayne Bosch and I will be playing three sets of our favourite music - originals, jazz, swing, bossanova, samba, a bit of blues and some pop - at this cosy restaurant and sushi bar. The gig starts at 7 and ends at 10pm.

For a few weeks, while South Africa was in the throes of its whirlwind romance with soccer, the restaurant wasn't very busy, causing the owners to put the gig on hold, but now it's about to start up again. Not sure how long we'll be the band, but for as long as we are, I'm planning to put my heart and soul into it. Why? Simply because music puts a smile in my heart.

Just around the corner

In more than one area of my life, I have been dealing with rather intense issues, and I find myself becoming more and more of an observer and a thinker, as I work my way through the challenges I'm presented with. The different roles I play put me into contact with various people and situations, and I sometimes wonder how I juggle them all and manage to keep my cool. But one thing I have come to appreciate is that my chosen pace - slow and steady, measured and deliberate - is my greatest strength. I've also come to realise that I do indeed have a stubbborn streak, and while I won't be the one shouting and screaming, I will be the one taking a definite, well-thought-out position and conducting myself in alignment with it.

I also seem to have learnt, in recent years, to shut out other voices when I have to, and to tune in to my own convictions. It's not an easy road, because I sometimes make choices and decisions that don't sit well with others in my close circle. It becomes a lonely road, and I occasionally wonder if it's worth it. And then a course of action I've invested myself in and stuck to, singlemindedly, works out and I know, without a doubt, that it's more important for me to listen to the crystal clear, single-line melody within than the cacophony without.

When I look back on past phases of my adult life, I'm fully aware that, had I possessed the skills and insight I now do, I would not have stayed in toxic situations for as long as I did. I see how my fixation on meeting everyone's needs but my own worked against me, delayed my personal growth and complicated my life, filling it with sorrow instead of joy.

And yet, that was never meant to be my whole story, which is what I still find exciting. Even through my darkest years, there were people in my life who loved me unconditionally and were always there for me. Here I think particularly of my mother and my cousin, Tracy, as well as a few other close friends. In some ways, I think they saw in me what I never could, because I was so busy being down on myself.

And then there's this other energy in my life - music! I started playing guitar in 1978 and composing songs in 1979. Honestly, at that time I never ever thought I'd perform them live in public, let alone think of recording them for mass distribution. I wrote songs, always with lyrics and melodies happening simultaneously, as a form of catharsis, a way of getting things off my chest, the way poets write poetry and artists paint pictures. My love for music always brought me into contact with other musicians, and I think that also kept me afloat when my personal life was in disarray.

And now I walk yet another solo road, but this time with a lot of inner peace and a lot of belief in the endless possibilities that lie just around the corner. After much reading and practising of certain techniques, I am quite different to the Trudy I was ten years ago. And now I'm ready for a whole new beginning. First, as long as I need to be single and growing stronger as an individual, as an artist and as a child of the universe, and then, when all the elements are right, in a loving relationship with someone who's the right fit for me: free-spirited yet responsible, serious yet funny, hardworking yet perfectly capable of goofing off, .....

You know what? I have a better idea: when I'm in the mood, I'll do a whole blog on the criteria I have in mind! Beware, it will be a long blog!!! Hahaha!

Impossible is nothing!

About two years ago, there was a lot of talk on radio stations about the construction of both stadia and roads throughout the country. As a Capetonian, I was obviously more interested in what would be happening in my city, Cape Town. I listened with great interest as engineers reassured us that there'd be "minimal" disruption to the normal traffic. The cynic in me said, Ja, right! Then, in the 18 months leading up to the 2010 Soccer World Cup, I drove through the roadworks on Hospital Bend twice a day, from Monday to Friday. Every step of the way, I was simply fascinated at how cleverly everything was being done, with practically no impact on the traffic flow. I followed the construction with great interest, often craning my neck as I drove through the busy roadway. On a daily basis, you could see more and more additions, as different sections were completed. I had no idea, at that time, how it would actually feel once the month of World Cup matches arrived.

In April last year, I went to the Visitors' Centre at the Green Point Stadium (later renamed Cape Town Stadium) and sat through a presentation by an engineer, who explained in great detail how the different stadia were built, focussing on the one outside Nelspruit, called the Mbombela Stadium. Its striking features are its seats which look like zebra stripes and its metal scaffold-like structures that stand out like giraffes all round the stadium. Before the presentation, we were allowed to stand outside and watch the construction process. Interesting, but still I had no idea how the actual World Cup would feel, for us as South Africans.

The countdown started at some ridiculously high number - maybe 364 days? - and even then it was hard to relate to the event. Even closer to the time, 100 days, 50 days, 20 days, I still felt uninvolved, and thought that I'd get through the month unaffected, aloof - after all, I'm not even a soccer fan.

And how wrong I was to be proved! I'm not exactly sure when I started to "feel it", but it started with people blowing vuvuzelas in the streets of Cape Town one day, and a huge procession of people down Long Street, all clad in soccer regalia. Yes, the sound of the vuvuzelas gave me a headache, because for days people just kept blowing them. And then it was the 11th of June, with the opening ceremony at Soccer City. Even though we were allowed to leave work early that day, I stayed a bit too late and was driving home at that time. I got home in time for the 4pm match, though, and watched it eagerly: South Africa versus Mexico, which ended in a draw, 1-1. And I was hooked.

I've been following the games ever since, becoming increasingly "into" soccer, and changing my allegiance as my teams were eliminated. I was convinced Brazil would be in the finals, but of course they lost to Holland in the quarter finals! And now we're down to two more matches, the runners-up on Saturday night and the finals on Sunday night. People are starting to talk about how sad they're already feeling that it's almost all over, and I know exactly what they mean!I feel it too!

This week, on the night of the last match in Cape Town, I did the Fan Walk with three colleagues, because I just had to experience it on a match day. That was Tuesday, the 6th of July, and the match was Holland versus Uruguay. Most of the people on the Fan Walk were wearing orange, in support of Holland. I was supporting Uruguay, but the closest I came to indicating that support was not wearing orange, and waving my Brazilian flag! The atmosphere was unbelievable, so many people all heading down one road in the direction of the stadium. This was a huge thing for me, because I generally don't like being in a crowd, feeling claustrophobic when I don't have lots of room around me. But I did it, I walked with my colleagues until the stadium, experiencing the performances along the route, the food and craft stalls, the wacky people doing silly things just because, and the overwhelming feeling of celebration, festivity, carnival!

I knew I had to do it in a way that made sense to me, and over the years I've learnt how to pace myself with large gatherings - I have to stick to a manageable length of time, and not try to be what I'm not - so I took my leave at the stadium and walked all the way back. The night air was becoming icy, so I walked briskly, and in the end I was glad I'd taken it at that pace, because I went back to where my car was parked and drove home, getting there just in time to watch the match in the warmth and comfort of my home.

And now, with just two matches left, we're all starting to feel sad at the imminent end of this glorious month of soccer, this unbelievable experience we've all had as a nation. In a way I can't quite explain, this was as profound as our first democratic elections in 1994. In a crazy way, it feels even more significant, because this time we're all united behind one flag, all feeling like we're proudly South African, more in touch with our similarities than our differences, striving to show the world how great OUR country is.

Yes, I can feel it. It IS here. Now how do we hang onto it? And in honest acceptance that the intensity will lessen and the magic will fade, I have to ask myself, how do we as a nation proceed, how do we now channel this oneness, so that we keep focussing on what IS possible?

I love the slogan used by the organisers of the World Cup: Impossible is nothing!

My week at home / Written 04/07/10

Sunday night, and it's back to work for me tomorrow, after a week's leave. I'd made a list of things I wanted to do, and I can proudly say I achieved quite a few: I slept until I woke up naturally every day (for 9 days, incl. the two weekends) and I spent a lot of chill and fun time with my daughter; we watched a lot of soccer on tv and we also went to see the movie Eclipse - my daughter is a huge fan and had been counting the days to the release of the latest in the Twilight series. We went to the shops a few times, and also spent a lot of time with my mom, who lives on the premises.

I did a lot of laundry (whenever the sun shone, which was almost every day!), and tried to practise my guitar whenever I could.

What I did for myself was go to my guitar lesson and have a meeting to discuss resuming the recording of my original songs. I also did a bit of journalling, and went onto Facebook every day.

There were some low moments during the week, but I'll mention only one: despite having had Saturday night's gig confirmed on Friday, I got a call at 6:10pm on Saturday, when I was minutes away from the restaurant, to say it had been cancelled again. On a gig day, I start getting ready at 4:30pm, because I have to do a lot in preparation, and I like to do it without feeling rushed or stressed. It's about a 20-minute drive to the restaurant, depending on the traffic. Finding a parking bay can be challenging, so I often park temporarily, offload the equipment and then find a bay for the evening. Then we set up and do a sound check, and are usually ready about 10 minutes before we're due to start. The point is, doing a gig from 7 - 10pm is not something that takes up three hours of one's time, so having the gig cancelled that late left both of us feeling very bad. Right now, I doubt the gig will resume this Saturday, as it's the runners-up soccer match. Maybe the following weekend. Who knows?

All-in-all, it was a good week. I feel rested and ready to go back and face the challenges at work.

And life goes on.