Moody Mondays

Spring has arrived in the South of Sweden, but Uppland is still cloaked in snow and the sky is grey today.The winter birds are flitting about and the birch look sad from my vantage point. A busy weekend kept me away from the computer so once again the day calls for three pieces to be posted. Written in 2006/7, these pieces seem to hold a kind of timelessness.

the silence of the noise

The silence of the noise
Is deafening
But strangely
It is no longer
Emotionally crippling

The silence of the noise
Quickly embraced
Enjoyed and relished
The sweetest taste
No need to fill it
With meaningful voices
Hastily made bad choices

The silence of the noise
How enlightening
My own company
No longer frightening
Room to grow
The pace certainly not
A devastating blow

The silence of the noise
An interesting idea
My life no longer built around
Moments of occasional cheer
My own heart-beat
Setting the pace
Free in the moment
Enjoying life
In my personal mind space

27/02/07

Independence

Independence
We nurture and cherish
But, do we really understand
What independence means
Are we willing to our understanding
Of the concept
Challenge and question

Independence
We seek
Arrogantly equating it
To freedom with money
Going and coming as we please
Choosing whom to love
Whom to set free

Independence
We are mostly
Under the illusion of having
When it is offered socially
Does not translate
To individual freedom
Liberating

Independence
We still seek
Even when we are able to
Spend the money we earned
As we please
Choose our friends
Dress the way we like
Leave our hair free

Independence
We still seek
Because we tie ourselves down
By other’s opinions of whom we should be
How to behave
What to do
With whom to be

Independent
We will only be
When we accept
That it is only we
Who can claim
This right
None can give it
To you and me
Then only can we be free
Independently

14/09/06

Friendships

What kind of friendships
Do we in our lifetime expect
Fleeting
In the moment
Or nurtured
Over many years
Fair-weather friends
Or friendships-in-need
Are those the best kind indeed?

Friendships we say we treasure
But how to truly
These relationships measure
Is it by the number of
Secrets we share
Shoulder crying sessions
Or the every time you put me to bed
After a few too many
Or a lost loved one cherished

Friendships are relationships
We willfully seek
Sometimes it happens upon us
When we to each other gravitate
Pulled together in the oddest circumstances
Other times we fight against our instincts
Yet, it will still grow and blossom
True friendships
We will later call it
When we still connect
After years many

Friendships, something so special
We’ll do everything to it at all costs protect
We are devastated
When we have to leave it all behind
Clouded by interference, misunderstandings unkind
It fills one with such dread
That one with time
Less from these connections expect
Living with losing friendships
Part of life’s momentums
We suffer with regret
Sometimes we yearn for new ways
To our hearts from these losses protect

By Simone Noemdoe, 14/09/06 (some minor edits, 28/01/11)

Keeping Up

Writing a blog every day is a seriuos challenge it seems. Yesterday, I could not post, but all for a good cause since I'm once again out there doing an assignment. The project is interesting and I hope to produce good results. Have you noticed how our use of language can be peppered with "codes" that become stuck in our everyday life? Being out and about yesterday, reminded me very muchh of that. Suddenly I started recording these little phrases or words and it fascinated me! The English book club was fun as usual and it was a great experience to listen to women (some of whom I only meet occasionaly) who have such a lot of life experience and interesting views! During the hours I spent in the city I could forget about who will cook dinner and what it will be? or even better... forget about hanging up washing and sweeping the kitchen! I could not run away from thinking about it, so I finished writing a poem that I started a few weeks ago.

Housekeeping
My aunty
Keeps a clean house
No matter
How hard I try
My efforts
Next to hers
Is a far cry
Even when
I desperately
Scream and cry

My aunty
Keeps a clean slate
Every idea on her mind
She tells you
Sometimes
Hard
Most often
Kind
To no faults of her own or others
She turns
A blind eye

My aunty
Keeps us all close
There is no chance
For disrespect
Attitudes verbose
Her love and warmth
Transcends
A sometimes projected
Veneer cold
Claiming us
Big Mamma bold
Offering
A clean heart
Always
Love never ending
In my world
Auntie's like this
We have to
Behold

For Aunty Ghairo, February 2011.

It is Friday, and there is a light snow in the air. Spring is still a long time away! We are still indoors with books under blankets!

Circle of fun
Thirteen women
In a circle
Offering
Opinions freely
Laughing
At each other’s by-lines
Sometimes
Louder than discreetly
Sharing
The odd private moment
Somewhat
Tactfully

Thirteen women
On a Thursday night
Taking private time
It could have been
Nine… ten or fifteen…
All pulled by a passion
Books selected for us
Enthusiastic booklovers kind
Discovering
An author’s unique perception
Words
Maybe some of the few
Remaining
True-life treasures

Thirteen women
Around a big table
This time
No men
Venturing their perspective
It was not missed
Our babble
Spiriting
Kind
To liking the book
We don’t seem to heed
Much mind
On book club night
We leave
Our idiosyncrasies
Behind
Looking forward to the new offering
The next cicle of fun
Time

By Simone Naik Noemdoe, Uppsala English Book Store Book Club, 25 February 2011.

Posting Blogs

The sunshine on the distant pine trees lights up the snow that sits on its branches as if it served up like ice cream by strong arm waitresses. You might need a spoons with very long handles to eat it!... What? The ramblings of a crazy woman? Something to write about and taking inspiration from what is around me seems to get the words flowing. Last night it was hovering around -21 and it certainly felt much colder outside... but I'm lucky to have the warmth of the love of family and friends...

Value true
The true value
Of a genuine friend
Is not counted by
How long you know them
But rather to me
How they protect you
Sometimes
Even from yourself
Caring
Openly

The true value
Of a genuine friend
Can be expressed by
A thousand “I’m sorry’s”
A million “thank you’s”
Feeling ridiculous
Hiding
In the red-wine blues

The true value
Of a genuine friend
I constantly rediscover
When I hopefully
Put the same offer
To be a genuine friend
On the table
Only time will tell
If this view
Is a fact
Or fleeting fable

By Simone, 6 June 2008

Smile

Sometimes we forget how to smile and be overjoyed in the moment. At least, I do, speaking for myself. Yet there is always a lot to be grateful for. The sun in my window, food on the table, watching happy children play without a care in the world! (Are they licking the smowballs?) Life is great!

Sometimes
Sometimes
I can write
What is in my heart
In the moment
Bringing you close
Stranger
Lover
Friend
Mentor
In the future
Aunty, mother who nurtured me
In the most recent
Past

Sometimes
It gets blocked
My creative spirit
Goes into hiding
No special feelings
I can
Through my fingers
From my mind be
Confiding
Even when it is a special wish
A yearning
Silently crying

Sometimes
I find that connection
Enabled by modern technology
I push the fears of writing aside
Opening up ideas
In my mind wide
No worries of a reader
Making comments snide
Much easier it becomes
When it’s a creative mentor
In whom to confide
I can be free
No longer in a dark corner
I hide
Freedom to write
I
In our connection find

By Simone, ‎den ‎26 ‎september ‎2008.

New Ideas

Do you struggle to find new ideas in life? Right now I am reading 3 books and trying to figure out how to make quilt blocks with funky hippie-like hearts! Too much some people will say! Well, an overactive mind still searching for action!!! I should go back and ask my first teachers ever (the brief time I was there...) how they managed to keep me occupied at age 5. I know my grandmother gave me my own bowl to mix my own cake and in case you wondered.. yes! Mine also went into the oven!

All the thinking and then suddenly I'm yanked back to the reality of an email talking about the Equity laws in South Africa... I do not even want to begin to think about all the battles for jobs, resources and opportunities... why always what our skin colour looks like?

Sister, Sister why do we always cry?

Tired of talking
I am
Tired of waiting
I am
Tired of bickering
I am
Tired of events
I am
Tired
Tired
Tired

Platforms
Women can create
Every day
We have to
Wade through
Gender inequities
Racial inequities
Class inequities
Our own
Insecurities
Why not act
Become
The power monger's
Nemesis

Platforms
We have to use
From the bottom up
From the top down
Can you share my skills and I share yours
Can I open your door and you open mine
Will you mentor me, I will mentor you
Can we break through
The petty power games
Leaving us bickering
Alone
Blue

Platforms
We create
Growing daughters
Growing sons
We share my skills
Sister
We open doors
Sister
We care
Sister
Don't worry
About the blank stare
Sister
Our skills together
Opens a world
Sister
You alone at the top
Will soon lose life's gifts
Lackluster

By Simone Noemdoe in response to Ditshego Magoro -- I hear and feel you my sister. We have a long way to go, but is starts with me and you. Let them be out there and let them try to mobilise the elite, the intellectual, the talkers. Let us act here and now. At home and where we play... one day women will be free and you and I can sleep easy!
27 February 2009

Another Lazy Sunday - 3 Pieces

The sun is shining outside, but even inside I can feel the cold crisp air and the way the birds twitch to keep warm makes me feel very lucky not to have to be outside! Three days after my last posting. A busy Friday cooking potjiekos for 15 and lots of fun with guests over. Saturday was just too lazy to even think about the computer...

Hype and Flavour
What is
The hype and flavour of the week
Valentine’s planned
Celebrated
By the love sick
Hopefuls, rich and poor
Many enthusiastic
Others
Playing along
Meekly

The latest
Hype and flavour
Driven commercially
Thrust upon us
To savour
Valentines in February
Mothers day in May
Fathers get their's in June
And before you know it
We are bound to listen to
The Christmas ‘silly season’ tunes

For most
The hype and flavour
Not so easy to forget
The romantic in me
Always wanted to play along
Seeking some fun
Surely not part of my
Daily set
How wonderful to have
Happy memories
All flavour
No hyper regrets

By Simone Noemdoe, 13/02/07 (edited, 20/02/11)

On Thursday I could not resist to write back to a friend. I'm told that the local government election campaign is in full swing for the hearts and minds in South Africa...

Crumbs
Only the crumbs
Fallen
From high tables
Democracy
For the rich
Like dreams
For the poor
Struggling
Not to lick
From the floor
Hypocrisy
Younger and younger
At death’s door

Only the crumbs
Collected
In grass baskets
Could maybe
Feed more than five thousand
The hungry
Don’t make steps bold
Trapped behind the dark clouds
(food) Lined
Imaginary silver
Coffers stripped
No more treasures
Of buried gold

Only the crumbs
Shared by the poor
No apologies
By the rich of the world
Just enough
Never an option
The greedy going after
More and more
An idealists dream
Egalitarian
Unsure

17 February 2010 In reply to David Kapp…. What was it again? Maslow?

In the spirit of creating something fresh... My dream is still to see sustainable development programmes that empowers people to make positive choices and find their own way in life. A dependence on handouts and a life condemned to labour without dignity are some of the things we still have to battle against on earth.

Struggle
Do you know my struggle
Mrs politician
Part of the quota
On the party list
Slowly
I feel the rise
Of my fist
The majority
Still in your eyes
Only
On paper a priority

Do you know my struggle
Mr Politician
On the campaign trail
Fast
In-between stops
Make sure there are
No back-stabbing plots
Only happy smiling tots
Buying votes
With rightfully entitled
Social grant lots

Do you know my struggle
To keep things ticking
In-between voting years
Every pilot project
Worked
After the campaign
Just white elephants
Remain
Voters all complain
Their dream
Finding their own carriage
On life's gravy train
Most victories
Carry
The burden of pain

Do you know their struggle
Little girls
Wishing to get out
Their daddy's
No longer about
Going to university
Today their battle
No doubt
Can you speak their language
On the campaign trail
Policy speak
Still merely that
Even if you screech
Maybe amongst them
A true leader
Roaming about
One day...
I will her name
In a liberator's voice
Shout

By Simone Beatrice Naik Noemdoe, happy and sad to be inside and outside development. 20 February 2010

The daily grind

The task of daily living is all occupying. When we work for a boss the time is easily marked by office hours and the commute to and from work. If you are lucky to work from home, the easier task is to avoid the commute, but the challenge to 'set the hours' become more difficult. This I learn the hard way as I continue to struggle with a deadline that slipped a long time ago. Being hyperactive with a short attention span makes it even more difficult... What had this got to do with writing a blog? You might want to ask... Well, to the overactive mind... everything... it is afternoon and I have to post something. What to publish today? The local government elections in South Africa is fueling a lot of news from home. the very calm cold weather in Skuttunge makes we want to curl up and grab the next good book. So instead, I can report that I made at least 3 dozen potato samoosas (ha ha.. I'm getting better at folding) and the challenge of sending some poems and a short bio to an online journal. The mind is still going on that one.

A year and one day to date...

A writer be

I call myself
A writer
Composing lines
In-between
Thinking
Laundry
Seeking recipes
For old favorite foods
Learning how to garden
In climates
New

I call myself
A writer
Yet, scared
To share the lines
Other than
The occasional few
Calling praise
Seeking me to publish
Others must see
A world filling me
Occasionally
With a visionary’s craze

I call myself
A writer
Mostly
Unsolicited opinions
Life’s little quirks
The intermittent outlet
An artist’s perk
Views with words
My souls’ dearth
Am I worthy
This title
On this
Forsaken
Earth

By Simone Naik Noemdoe, 16 February 2010