I welcomed 2018 at Libassa Ecolodge on January 1. Haresh was away for 2 weeks in India and, Kavita and I spent the New Year's in Marshall. The owners and managers of the Lodge, Rudolph and Lisa, let Kavita and I sleep at their private house in the resort since they were sold out and had no available rooms. New Year's Eve was on the beach under a full moon. I had the chance to see Lisa and Rudolph in action, managing things during one of the busiest times of the year. The couple was on their feet all day, speaking to each other and their staff through walkie talkies, checking each station, and walking around. The resort was full of holiday makers. Kavita played with her friend Lea, who was doted upon by all the staff of the Lodge.
It was nice to be reminded again of the value of hard work and a hectic daily routine that can leave your tired. I have decided to exit NATC from day to day management and, miss that daily hard work. Was it a good decision?
On February 20, I woke up to loud banging on my bedroom door, my housekeeper yelling, "Fire! Fire! Fire!" She said Haresh had told her to ask Kavita and I to leave the apartment building as there was a fire on Randall Street. Still in my nightclothes, the three of us went downstairs to stand in the street. A huge crowd had assembled all along the street and, I could see massive smoke fumes billowing down the street, towards Abi Jaoudi Supermarket. I understood that a fire had caught in Power Tech's warehouse, behind their street showroom. Shop owners, mainly Lebanese, had come out to stand outside, hands on their mouths, in deep thought, anxiety on their faces, or was it just knowing patience? People from the shanty town behind our own building, Auto Run, had come to the street, with their few belongings. I was extremely distressed. Haresh called me from the office and said, I should bring Bijli also outside and, plan to evacuate. While the firetruck vainly tried to cut out the fire, I went upstairs to get my passport and, a few belongings.
I had gone into a mental shock by this time, my legs and arms shaking. I felt the same sense of doom when I received the call in 2009 that Wesley, my South African boyfriend, had been killed. I was in London at the time, completing my masters degree and, then rushed back in a few days to deal with his death.
Angie, my housekeeper, asked me what I wanted to take. I numbly retrieved our passports, some of my jewellery, a few random clothes, my laptop, wallet, and camera bag from my room. Angie dashed into the other bedroom and stuffed a bag with Kavita's clothes (later, I saw she had taken all the shiny party dresses instead of normal, everyday clothes). Then, I grabbed a bag and, stuffed all my Diaries into it. I stood in my living room, wondering which painting to take. I didn't take any! How could I choose a favourite.
We stood in the street anxiously for an hour or so. Haresh had also walked over to us by this time although the street was full of people. Somehow, the fire was stopped and, relieved, we continued with our day.
I'll never forget the sense of doom, helplessness and shock that I might loose all my worldly belongings, all the things which I have collected, my paintings, my curios, my books, movies, my chairs and clothes, and, notebooks, and my plants, my old faithful frying pans, and, the wine bottles I have painted and put along the stairs, the hand embroidered bed spreads my mother gave me, pulled out from cupboards in Islamabad, my collection of masks, my beautiful bookshelves I had made by Lamin the carpenter, the collection of mugs and tea pots that line the top of the shelves, my carpets and lamps. I still get nervous about this possibility of everything going up in flames given the lack of building standards, zoning and storage regulations, and general sense of mismanagement.
In April, I left for Pakistan with Kavita while Haresh stayed behind. He met up with us in mid July in Ethiopia for a week-long holiday. We came together to Monrovia on 25 July.
It was good to be home with my parents and, Aboo started to give Kavita some Urdu lessons at home. Although I mostly lazed about, I got Kavita a NADRA card which makes her a Pakistani citizen. Kavita also attended an arts and music school in F-8 for 2 weeks. I visited Lahore and, felt a great a sense of excitement and wonder for one of the great cities of South Asia. I met some cousins after decades and decades.
Mid May I left for Kuala Lumpur from Islamabad to visit my best friend, Aysha. She has been living in KL for the past 5 years or so. Aysha had been inviting me for a long time so it was good I finally made it because she moved back to Pakistan in November. Malaysia as a whole was even more exciting and, multi-ethnic and beautiful as I had always imagined. I've always been curious about Malaysia, the Muslim-majority Asian tiger, whose development and success is attributed to Dr Mahathir. I was struck by the highly developed KL, a modern cosmopolitan city with lush greenery, gleaming highways, and hundreds of sight seeing spots. It was clean, organised and beautiful. The food was so diverse and delicious! I loved seeing my friend Aysha's life there, at her beautiful apartment in a fancy compound, her trips to the supermarket in her next door mall, and her favourite spots in town.
Aysha's 4-year old daughter, Aleeza, and Kavita were inseparable throughout and, although they start quarrelling now and then, it was fun to see them bathing together, swimming in the compound's pool, running around, fighting over a sea shell on the beach in Langkawi, and teasing the cat Aysha was cat-sitting.
Sitting in Aysha's sun room, a glorious part of the apartment with vast windows which looked out into a lush garden, chatting over tea and sweets with my best friend, was one of the best parts of the trip. One keeps imagining and talking about drinking tea with one's best friend on the sofa, a simple pleasure, and when one finally gets to do it, one still feels it's never enough time to talk about all one wants to, and confide all one has been keeping in.
The four of us took off for a week-long trip to visit Ipoh, George Town and Langawki. We traveled by train and boat and plane. Aysha had seen George Town and Langwaki before but she didn't stay at the same places. We had a very beautiful week-long holiday (and, mine was a holiday within 3 parentheses).
Malaysia was just as I had imagined it: developed, clean, organised, beautiful, and very multi-cultural. I also got to have a sense of the politics and social issues by attending a LBGT evening at a bar which had poetry readings, musical performances, and dancing. Homosexuality is a criminal offence in Malaysia and, what's more, just around the time I was there, Anwar Ibrahim had been released from prison with Dr Mahathir coming back to power, bringing back the sodomy charges on which Anwar had been imprisoned. I met friends of Aysha's who she had befriended through her work with Lean In Malaysia, of which she was even elected as President! Through Aysha's journalist friend, Aysha and I actually were in the same room as her interviewing Anwar Ibrahim and, even got to chat with him. It was a real privilege and, what's more, that same afternoon, I also briefly met Shashi Tharoor who had come to call on Anwar Ibrahim.
Personally, I also thought a great deal about looking at religion, multiculturalism, spirituality, and holy places as a tourist. In Lahore, Malaysia and Ethiopia, I eagerly visited the holy places of worship as a tourist, in awe of the beautiful structures, living monuments of history, majestic examples of architecture and art. In Malaysia, being able to see a Buddhist temple or a Hindu temple and a mosque in the same vicinity was exciting and also depressing because this plurality and diversity should exist in our country too but, Partition happened and, so many Hindu temples and Gurdwaras were abandoned and, are no longer living and breathing places of worship. This lesson in diversity is crucial. Of course I am an atheist but visiting holy places and, seeing and observing the faithful in their duty and/or in earnest prayer, sometimes pleading, made me remember the the time when I was still a believer and, made me remember how powerful faith is. I suppose one has to go back to the time when one still believed to really feel the power of the temple and mosque or shrine.
In Ethiopia, I was completely blown away by the rock churches of Lalibela and the faces of the Abyssian angels in the Debre Berhan Selassie Church in Gonder. Surely, Christianity was never brought in by colonisation and, is as old as Ethiopia itself. And, how come we were never taught this in our fancy Humanities class at our American high school in Athens?
One of my other exciting discoveries has been South Indian films. I got a piece published in The Friday Times: https://www.thefridaytimes.com/tft/watching-south-indian-films-in-monrovia/.
Angie, my housekeeper, asked me what I wanted to take. I numbly retrieved our passports, some of my jewellery, a few random clothes, my laptop, wallet, and camera bag from my room. Angie dashed into the other bedroom and stuffed a bag with Kavita's clothes (later, I saw she had taken all the shiny party dresses instead of normal, everyday clothes). Then, I grabbed a bag and, stuffed all my Diaries into it. I stood in my living room, wondering which painting to take. I didn't take any! How could I choose a favourite.
We stood in the street anxiously for an hour or so. Haresh had also walked over to us by this time although the street was full of people. Somehow, the fire was stopped and, relieved, we continued with our day.
I'll never forget the sense of doom, helplessness and shock that I might loose all my worldly belongings, all the things which I have collected, my paintings, my curios, my books, movies, my chairs and clothes, and, notebooks, and my plants, my old faithful frying pans, and, the wine bottles I have painted and put along the stairs, the hand embroidered bed spreads my mother gave me, pulled out from cupboards in Islamabad, my collection of masks, my beautiful bookshelves I had made by Lamin the carpenter, the collection of mugs and tea pots that line the top of the shelves, my carpets and lamps. I still get nervous about this possibility of everything going up in flames given the lack of building standards, zoning and storage regulations, and general sense of mismanagement.
In April, I left for Pakistan with Kavita while Haresh stayed behind. He met up with us in mid July in Ethiopia for a week-long holiday. We came together to Monrovia on 25 July.
It was good to be home with my parents and, Aboo started to give Kavita some Urdu lessons at home. Although I mostly lazed about, I got Kavita a NADRA card which makes her a Pakistani citizen. Kavita also attended an arts and music school in F-8 for 2 weeks. I visited Lahore and, felt a great a sense of excitement and wonder for one of the great cities of South Asia. I met some cousins after decades and decades.
Mid May I left for Kuala Lumpur from Islamabad to visit my best friend, Aysha. She has been living in KL for the past 5 years or so. Aysha had been inviting me for a long time so it was good I finally made it because she moved back to Pakistan in November. Malaysia as a whole was even more exciting and, multi-ethnic and beautiful as I had always imagined. I've always been curious about Malaysia, the Muslim-majority Asian tiger, whose development and success is attributed to Dr Mahathir. I was struck by the highly developed KL, a modern cosmopolitan city with lush greenery, gleaming highways, and hundreds of sight seeing spots. It was clean, organised and beautiful. The food was so diverse and delicious! I loved seeing my friend Aysha's life there, at her beautiful apartment in a fancy compound, her trips to the supermarket in her next door mall, and her favourite spots in town.
Aysha's 4-year old daughter, Aleeza, and Kavita were inseparable throughout and, although they start quarrelling now and then, it was fun to see them bathing together, swimming in the compound's pool, running around, fighting over a sea shell on the beach in Langkawi, and teasing the cat Aysha was cat-sitting.
Sitting in Aysha's sun room, a glorious part of the apartment with vast windows which looked out into a lush garden, chatting over tea and sweets with my best friend, was one of the best parts of the trip. One keeps imagining and talking about drinking tea with one's best friend on the sofa, a simple pleasure, and when one finally gets to do it, one still feels it's never enough time to talk about all one wants to, and confide all one has been keeping in.
The four of us took off for a week-long trip to visit Ipoh, George Town and Langawki. We traveled by train and boat and plane. Aysha had seen George Town and Langwaki before but she didn't stay at the same places. We had a very beautiful week-long holiday (and, mine was a holiday within 3 parentheses).
Malaysia was just as I had imagined it: developed, clean, organised, beautiful, and very multi-cultural. I also got to have a sense of the politics and social issues by attending a LBGT evening at a bar which had poetry readings, musical performances, and dancing. Homosexuality is a criminal offence in Malaysia and, what's more, just around the time I was there, Anwar Ibrahim had been released from prison with Dr Mahathir coming back to power, bringing back the sodomy charges on which Anwar had been imprisoned. I met friends of Aysha's who she had befriended through her work with Lean In Malaysia, of which she was even elected as President! Through Aysha's journalist friend, Aysha and I actually were in the same room as her interviewing Anwar Ibrahim and, even got to chat with him. It was a real privilege and, what's more, that same afternoon, I also briefly met Shashi Tharoor who had come to call on Anwar Ibrahim.
Personally, I also thought a great deal about looking at religion, multiculturalism, spirituality, and holy places as a tourist. In Lahore, Malaysia and Ethiopia, I eagerly visited the holy places of worship as a tourist, in awe of the beautiful structures, living monuments of history, majestic examples of architecture and art. In Malaysia, being able to see a Buddhist temple or a Hindu temple and a mosque in the same vicinity was exciting and also depressing because this plurality and diversity should exist in our country too but, Partition happened and, so many Hindu temples and Gurdwaras were abandoned and, are no longer living and breathing places of worship. This lesson in diversity is crucial. Of course I am an atheist but visiting holy places and, seeing and observing the faithful in their duty and/or in earnest prayer, sometimes pleading, made me remember the the time when I was still a believer and, made me remember how powerful faith is. I suppose one has to go back to the time when one still believed to really feel the power of the temple and mosque or shrine.
In Ethiopia, I was completely blown away by the rock churches of Lalibela and the faces of the Abyssian angels in the Debre Berhan Selassie Church in Gonder. Surely, Christianity was never brought in by colonisation and, is as old as Ethiopia itself. And, how come we were never taught this in our fancy Humanities class at our American high school in Athens?
One of my other exciting discoveries has been South Indian films. I got a piece published in The Friday Times: https://www.thefridaytimes.com/tft/watching-south-indian-films-in-monrovia/.
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