Smattering

Written on Saturday 9 July 2011, 09h00

Sitting at my favourite writing spot at home, squeezing in some writing before the day’s formal demands get hold of me.

Earlier, I was outside, breathing in the new day, when I decided to survey the new-morning glow of the back garden, where I’d done a full-body workout yesterday with a Weedeater. One truth, and only one, descended on me as I stood there: I’m a damned good songwriter! :-)

When it comes to gardening, I’m good at watering, planting the odd flop-proof plant (my garden’s full of Impatiens), sweeping up the leaves and taking photos of the mini-success stories unfolding around me. Other than that, and I say this with no disrespect to my friend who lent me his Weedeater (and shears!), I thoroughly enjoy being in and around my garden after someone else has done the back-breaking work. As soon as I have R200 that doesn’t need to feed my family, my car’s petrol tank or our electricity meter, I’ll PAY someone to clean up the whole place, both the front and back gardens.

Listening to a musician who inspires me in a way that I can only feel, but not adequately express in words – Djavan. He’s Brazilian, from Alagoas, and sings in Portuguese, a language I’m convinced I’m genetically connected to. I understand only a smattering (love that word!) of it, but it sets off something in me that’s hard to describe. NO other language does that to me. In March 2009, when I was in Sao Paulo, I got lost in the city on my very first day. I stood outside a shoe shop, where I was convinced my colleague had walked into and lost sight of her budget, and a few people came up to me and asked me questions, IN PORTUGUESE! I assumed they were asking for directions. It was quite funny, because by then I had learnt a few sentences I thought would come in handy, so I used the opportunity to say, as many times as I could, “Eu fala Ingles” (I speak English). They looked at me disbelievingly, not because the words rolled off my tongue, but because I looked like everyone around me! Funny how visiting that country affected me, my sense of who I am and of course, my love for Brazilian music, especially the bossanova and its close cousin, the samba.

Time to go. I think I’ll move into the rest of my day by showering with Djavan singing Estoria de Cantador.