We always go back to that ... be careful what you pray for... What is she talking about? Well, the other day I said I missed Cape Town and today the sun is shining and... the wind is blowing. OK... there is not a lot of sand and it is not howling, but give a woman with imagination a break!
Yesterday I talked about Fat Cotton playing at our house once a week so in case you are wondering who it is... here is a link to their website... http://www.fatcotton.com/
anything but blue
Fat Cotton blues
Haunts me
Yearning to capture your energy
Ripping through your soul
Blues blood
Makes you somehow
In tune
Deep family connections
More whole
Fat Cotton blues
A rehearsal
Mostly other’s beats
Completely different
Through your feet
For me an easy
Mental treat
Life in your instruments
Never cries
Defeat
Anything but blue
It seems
From the daily grind
Rapidly recuperating
Occasional
Original tunes
Collective instincts
Rejuvenating
Playing
So much better
Than a life spent
Ruminating
For Per, Anders and Tomas… go on playing
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
Monday night Blues
Fat Cotton is doing its thing upstairs and the blues is beating through the house. A lazy rhythm eases the tension of the day away and lulls the pain of sad news. A good friend and colleague passed away. Boniswa Adeline Mangcu, lived, loved, survived!
An Accusation
An accusation
Came to me - third hand
I cared too much for you
It was easy to care
Your gifts to me
Were much more
Living life
In the here and now
You flagrantly dared
I stand accused
First hand
Even caring like mine
Could never be enough
For the burden you carried
You were much tougher
Life’s small idiosyncrasies
Sometimes made us
Occasionally
With wild abandon
Laugh
We are all guilty
Second-hand living
Half-hearted giving
Breathing
With expectations riddled
Our incongruous lives
Brittle
Collective memories
Somehow stronger
I stand accused
No longer
By Simone Beatrice Naik Noemdoe, 7 March 2011, in memory of Boniswa Adeline Mangcu, Long Live your memory!
This one comes to mind...
Fragile
Fragile
Handle with care
Right side up
Sometimes
Upside down
Don't lose your crown
Fragile
Handle with respect
Upside down
I wear my crown
Sometimes
Don't hide your frown
Fragile
Sometimes
Hiding my frown
Downside up
As light as a clown
With a smile
Painted on
Who can be down
Fragile
Painted on
Right side up
With a smile
Hiding my frown
Am I the clown
Sometimes
By Simone, 14 August 2007
An Accusation
An accusation
Came to me - third hand
I cared too much for you
It was easy to care
Your gifts to me
Were much more
Living life
In the here and now
You flagrantly dared
I stand accused
First hand
Even caring like mine
Could never be enough
For the burden you carried
You were much tougher
Life’s small idiosyncrasies
Sometimes made us
Occasionally
With wild abandon
Laugh
We are all guilty
Second-hand living
Half-hearted giving
Breathing
With expectations riddled
Our incongruous lives
Brittle
Collective memories
Somehow stronger
I stand accused
No longer
By Simone Beatrice Naik Noemdoe, 7 March 2011, in memory of Boniswa Adeline Mangcu, Long Live your memory!
This one comes to mind...
Fragile
Fragile
Handle with care
Right side up
Sometimes
Upside down
Don't lose your crown
Fragile
Handle with respect
Upside down
I wear my crown
Sometimes
Don't hide your frown
Fragile
Sometimes
Hiding my frown
Downside up
As light as a clown
With a smile
Painted on
Who can be down
Fragile
Painted on
Right side up
With a smile
Hiding my frown
Am I the clown
Sometimes
By Simone, 14 August 2007
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Roti and Curry
Today I cook roti and curry, Naik-style... beef curry with potatoes it will be... It has been a while since I wrote about food. Part of my culture, intrinsic to my upbringing, inherent in my soul. A love for food. I am addicted... the conviction of my family. A food market is like a jewelry store! Every little bit of fresh produce equivalent to the 'bling' of diamond. No place for food snobs either. It can be rustic, bold or dainty... I remember many hours of decorating Nanna's fancy's. Koesisters and Roti's a saviour in times of unemployment... a welcome income with a market interested in the same tastes as mine.
Comfort Food
What kind of comfort food
Do you like?
Over and over
The question mulls in my head
Almost like a mantra
That I religiously chant
The kind of comfort food
That you will eat
Two o'clock in the morning
Sitting down in the middle
Of the street
The kind you will
Seek desperately
Even if you have to
Ask for it in "Greek"
Ice cream is high
On my list of priorities
To get it I will easily forego
Buying some silly trinket
Or the family meat
With a good roti and curry*
You can easily entice me
But not as easily as with Mamma Bieba's**
Koeksister recipe
A really special treat
Comfort food
We introduce from generation to generation
Making the skill of its making
An inheritor’s treasure
And its special preparation
Part of our rituals
With love and no trepidation
I am sure you
Don't spend much time
Thinking about the question
"What kind of comfort food do I like?
So, next time you have
"That special treat"
With that favourite person
Spare a thought
For my comfort food
Treasuredly, to be shared with you
09/09/06, cooking Roti and curry** and Indian dish of fried flat bread with curry. Koeksisters is a donut that is popular in the Cape Malay community made with aniseed and sugared and rolled in coconut.
MEMORIES LOST AND FOUND
Why do we sometimes
Suppress the good memories
With the bad
Like the time we went
Hiking on Table Mountain
And I wet my hair
Under the waterfall at Breakfast Rock
Or like the time
When we went canoeing
On the Vlei
And I was so scared of falling in
And you eased my fear
With lots of jokes
And I laughed till the tears
Streamed down my face
And we found ourselves
Drifting gently
On the afternoon breeze
Or the time
When we were lying
On our backs outside in Bainskloof
Watching the stars in the sky
Catching the odd satellite
Breezing by
Sharing ideas of
Where we will be
When we grow up
After school and varsity
Maybe it is because
We are ashamed
That we stopped doing
Most of the things
That did not cost much
But gave us endless
Hours of joy and pleasure
Sharing love and friendship
With freedom unconditionally
Maybe it is because
Our lives moved on
With time we disconnected
We feel too guilty
For not being in touch
With those who at the time
Meant so much to us
That we had hoped
They will forever be there
To share with
And for us to show them
That we care
I will from now on
Remember and cherish
Those special moments
And try with time to recapture
The same exhilarating feelings
In those briefest moments experienced
Part of my remembrance it will be
Part of my realisation that
Suppressing the good memories
Was a cage I built around me
By Simone Noemdoe, 17 September 2006
Comfort Food
What kind of comfort food
Do you like?
Over and over
The question mulls in my head
Almost like a mantra
That I religiously chant
The kind of comfort food
That you will eat
Two o'clock in the morning
Sitting down in the middle
Of the street
The kind you will
Seek desperately
Even if you have to
Ask for it in "Greek"
Ice cream is high
On my list of priorities
To get it I will easily forego
Buying some silly trinket
Or the family meat
With a good roti and curry*
You can easily entice me
But not as easily as with Mamma Bieba's**
Koeksister recipe
A really special treat
Comfort food
We introduce from generation to generation
Making the skill of its making
An inheritor’s treasure
And its special preparation
Part of our rituals
With love and no trepidation
I am sure you
Don't spend much time
Thinking about the question
"What kind of comfort food do I like?
So, next time you have
"That special treat"
With that favourite person
Spare a thought
For my comfort food
Treasuredly, to be shared with you
09/09/06, cooking Roti and curry** and Indian dish of fried flat bread with curry. Koeksisters is a donut that is popular in the Cape Malay community made with aniseed and sugared and rolled in coconut.
MEMORIES LOST AND FOUND
Why do we sometimes
Suppress the good memories
With the bad
Like the time we went
Hiking on Table Mountain
And I wet my hair
Under the waterfall at Breakfast Rock
Or like the time
When we went canoeing
On the Vlei
And I was so scared of falling in
And you eased my fear
With lots of jokes
And I laughed till the tears
Streamed down my face
And we found ourselves
Drifting gently
On the afternoon breeze
Or the time
When we were lying
On our backs outside in Bainskloof
Watching the stars in the sky
Catching the odd satellite
Breezing by
Sharing ideas of
Where we will be
When we grow up
After school and varsity
Maybe it is because
We are ashamed
That we stopped doing
Most of the things
That did not cost much
But gave us endless
Hours of joy and pleasure
Sharing love and friendship
With freedom unconditionally
Maybe it is because
Our lives moved on
With time we disconnected
We feel too guilty
For not being in touch
With those who at the time
Meant so much to us
That we had hoped
They will forever be there
To share with
And for us to show them
That we care
I will from now on
Remember and cherish
Those special moments
And try with time to recapture
The same exhilarating feelings
In those briefest moments experienced
Part of my remembrance it will be
Part of my realisation that
Suppressing the good memories
Was a cage I built around me
By Simone Noemdoe, 17 September 2006
Friday, March 4, 2011
Drawn into the fray
Way down South, the Cape is where I'm from and being thousands of kilometers away does not leave me immune to the happenings there... Racism, a constant quest to defend where we come from... we are still battling to protect a birth-right of place. The upcoming local government elections, like in almost every election since the start of the end of Apartheid, becomes a platform for putting people in boxes. Men in suits discuss the place of people in a nation and in camps we divide. How about just being? South Africa and the world is still battling Apartheid. (There is currently a raging political fight about amendments to the Employment Equity Act and unconstitutional remarks in South Africa.)
Somehow we always knew it will take more than changing laws to change the way people think. Every battle won in breaking down barriers between people is another place for a skirmish to start... What about struggling students with no health insurance? What about aging grannies who have to raise grandchildren whose parents died because of the HIV/AIDS pandemic? What about millions of people who are stuck in the spiral of alcohol abuse and making addicted babies who will struggle to attain basic literacy levels? How about the world that is a global village outsourcing jobs to the next cheapest production spot, rising unemployment in the global south? Why not put our energies to dealing with the looming environmental crisis?
Are these the rants of an idealist?
WHO AM I?
Who am I ?
You wonder out loud
Am I sister coloured
To you brother black
Some Indian
But it is definitely not
Outright that
Why do you want me to be
In your categories caught
Reduced to a number
Historically naught
Who am I?
You wonder out loud
Argumentative
Sometimes
Plain quarrelsome
Definitely colourful
Not common and dour
An existence
In little boxes sour
Who I am?
I am sure
Black of mixed decent
No reason to pretend
My genes not paying any sinful rent
A life free
That I completely
Embrace with glee
What you prefer to in me see
Does not bother me
Who I am?
Not by ethnicity defined
Nor by the salty tears I cry
Every time a graze my knee
In life’s little skirmishes
We struggle to distinguish
Embracing my freedom to express
Despite momentary anguish
The way my eyes the world see
Regretfully still with prejudice of course
Idealistic creating less remorse
Living forward
With good cause
By Simone Naik, 27 November 2007
Written a while ago, it still holds true.
Somehow we always knew it will take more than changing laws to change the way people think. Every battle won in breaking down barriers between people is another place for a skirmish to start... What about struggling students with no health insurance? What about aging grannies who have to raise grandchildren whose parents died because of the HIV/AIDS pandemic? What about millions of people who are stuck in the spiral of alcohol abuse and making addicted babies who will struggle to attain basic literacy levels? How about the world that is a global village outsourcing jobs to the next cheapest production spot, rising unemployment in the global south? Why not put our energies to dealing with the looming environmental crisis?
Are these the rants of an idealist?
WHO AM I?
Who am I ?
You wonder out loud
Am I sister coloured
To you brother black
Some Indian
But it is definitely not
Outright that
Why do you want me to be
In your categories caught
Reduced to a number
Historically naught
Who am I?
You wonder out loud
Argumentative
Sometimes
Plain quarrelsome
Definitely colourful
Not common and dour
An existence
In little boxes sour
Who I am?
I am sure
Black of mixed decent
No reason to pretend
My genes not paying any sinful rent
A life free
That I completely
Embrace with glee
What you prefer to in me see
Does not bother me
Who I am?
Not by ethnicity defined
Nor by the salty tears I cry
Every time a graze my knee
In life’s little skirmishes
We struggle to distinguish
Embracing my freedom to express
Despite momentary anguish
The way my eyes the world see
Regretfully still with prejudice of course
Idealistic creating less remorse
Living forward
With good cause
By Simone Naik, 27 November 2007
Written a while ago, it still holds true.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Other Bloggers
Suddenly I am part of this internet community. Access to the fast invisible super-highway, throwing out ideas with the hope that someone will connect and read what I write. I am also more aware of other's writing. Mainly following bloggers who produce interesting crafts and sharing their ideas and tutorials. There are also others I discover that do some interesting work like the guy from Australia sharing his photography blog darren@problogger.net (Something I still want to do when I grow up, not be a guy but take pictures of course!)
I guess I am not longer just stuck in my little office with the world beyond my window. By the way... like we say on the Cape Flats, today the sun is out and it promises to be warmer... The internet made us learn a whole new language and from my archive in from 2006.
Down-load
How do you down-load
Acquaintance
Do you go way
For a weekend
Pony rides and foofy slides
How do you down-load
Acquaintance
Do you wake up at 1-am
Making mental maps
About product ideas
Questioning peers
How do you down-load
Acquaintance
Playing with little ones
Having fun with mum
Kissing and hugging in the sun
Downloading so important
Acquaintance
Give the brain a mental break
To be present
Loving life
Asleep or awake
17/10/06
I guess I am not longer just stuck in my little office with the world beyond my window. By the way... like we say on the Cape Flats, today the sun is out and it promises to be warmer... The internet made us learn a whole new language and from my archive in from 2006.
Down-load
How do you down-load
Acquaintance
Do you go way
For a weekend
Pony rides and foofy slides
How do you down-load
Acquaintance
Do you wake up at 1-am
Making mental maps
About product ideas
Questioning peers
How do you down-load
Acquaintance
Playing with little ones
Having fun with mum
Kissing and hugging in the sun
Downloading so important
Acquaintance
Give the brain a mental break
To be present
Loving life
Asleep or awake
17/10/06
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Roaming
My mind is roaming and at the same time I'm required to keep focus and be busy with one project... I always quote the quote.. "Be careful what you pray for.. (By Larry Dossey, M.D. New York, N.Y.: HarperCollins Publishers, 1997). So, now there is some focusing required on my part...
It is fun to be busy with an intellectual challenge, focus on one idea and following a path that has been chosen for me in order to complete shakes me from a comfort zone. A shake-up that is long overdue!
In the meantime it is great to have the complimentary freedom to create (like writing or freestyle quilting). The potential and then finding the right combination to make a product possible.
Picture 1 has already been shaped. A touch and feel kind of design. Colours complementing, maybe even clashing...
Picture 2 is full of potential. What to make with a rich treasure of colours and textures. Just like ideas from writing.
Roaming minds...
There is an empty room in her head. She tried to fill it up with things, but it seems to grow its emptiness like multiplying bacteria, billions doubling exponentially. All the daily thoughts cannot fill this space, everyone else seem to be busy with their own things.
The room is no longer empty, but filled with continuous flowing ideas. To quell them, even in her dreams are almost a complete impossibility, except maybe, when she keeps her hands busy and her mind occupied with watching empty comedies or cooking soulful soups, reading loaned books, talking about political crooks, dusting un-used nooks, staring at strangers with vacant looks...
More next time...
It is fun to be busy with an intellectual challenge, focus on one idea and following a path that has been chosen for me in order to complete shakes me from a comfort zone. A shake-up that is long overdue!
In the meantime it is great to have the complimentary freedom to create (like writing or freestyle quilting). The potential and then finding the right combination to make a product possible.
Picture 1 has already been shaped. A touch and feel kind of design. Colours complementing, maybe even clashing...
Picture 2 is full of potential. What to make with a rich treasure of colours and textures. Just like ideas from writing.
Roaming minds...
There is an empty room in her head. She tried to fill it up with things, but it seems to grow its emptiness like multiplying bacteria, billions doubling exponentially. All the daily thoughts cannot fill this space, everyone else seem to be busy with their own things.
The room is no longer empty, but filled with continuous flowing ideas. To quell them, even in her dreams are almost a complete impossibility, except maybe, when she keeps her hands busy and her mind occupied with watching empty comedies or cooking soulful soups, reading loaned books, talking about political crooks, dusting un-used nooks, staring at strangers with vacant looks...
More next time...
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Getting ready
Yes, it is the March 1, 2011... Nothing much to say about the passing of time. March is my birth month so it is that time of the year I start adding up the higher numbers. Off the calendar, but still on the lotto ticket! Time to get ready for Lent. What to give up, reflect on what to change...
diversity -- late night reality
A throwback gene
The theme of the late-night movie… Skin
A little girl… woman
Trapped
White
Is not black
It looks black
But
It is not black
Black is coloured
And coloured is not black
Am I
Through Skin
By my appearance
Defined
Nina Simone sings about it
Desmond Tutu preaches about it
Nelson Mandela almost sacrificed his life for it
Freedom
From the labels of our hair and skin
Protected by our diversity
Every human being
Facing daily adversity
Perceptions
The greatest of which
Most
Seldom bothered
By the race question’s itch
Throwback genes
Gives me the instinct
To move my hips
Twist my hair
Eat with my hands
Sit on the floor
Stand in awe of the sun and moon
Love the deep intensity of yellow and red
Worship Spring’s innocence
Spice and meat on an open fire
Communion with others
Sharing laughter and life even with a stranger
Diversity my contribution
In open defiance
Constantly cherishing
My ancestor’s gifts
By Simone Noemdoe, 1 March 2011
diversity -- late night reality
A throwback gene
The theme of the late-night movie… Skin
A little girl… woman
Trapped
White
Is not black
It looks black
But
It is not black
Black is coloured
And coloured is not black
Am I
Through Skin
By my appearance
Defined
Nina Simone sings about it
Desmond Tutu preaches about it
Nelson Mandela almost sacrificed his life for it
Freedom
From the labels of our hair and skin
Protected by our diversity
Every human being
Facing daily adversity
Perceptions
The greatest of which
Most
Seldom bothered
By the race question’s itch
Throwback genes
Gives me the instinct
To move my hips
Twist my hair
Eat with my hands
Sit on the floor
Stand in awe of the sun and moon
Love the deep intensity of yellow and red
Worship Spring’s innocence
Spice and meat on an open fire
Communion with others
Sharing laughter and life even with a stranger
Diversity my contribution
In open defiance
Constantly cherishing
My ancestor’s gifts
By Simone Noemdoe, 1 March 2011
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