3am. Toast. and Tea.

3am. Tea. In the kitchen.
Dispense with washing. Just dump some hot water in.
Swirl, tip, shake.
Teabag, water, milk.
Two cups.

He comes in. Also tea. Also dispenses with washing.
Asks me why I was annoyed.
I'm over it.
But tell me, why?
I said I am over it.
Ok. But I do want to know.

Fine. I'll tell you the story.
But I warn you, I was over it.
People. Not. Thinking.
About. The. Effects.
Of their institutional embraces.

Of their hierarchies of power.
Endorsements of hatred.
Protests too late.
Add to the fire.

There's no turning back the clock.
It's done.
It's happened.
And it's there.

That's why.

But wait.
I don't understand.
Why were you upset.

I told you.
I am over it.
Though now it is coming back.
At 3am.
And this was supposed to be a quiet cup of tea.
A quiet cup of tea. Or two.
And toast.

I want to concentrate on the toast.
But what about immigration.
Immigration.
At 3am.
With toast.

Only here.
Only here would this happen.
Put down my toast.
The end was soggy anyway.
Immigration.
News. Panic. Rash. Hatred.
Too much for 3am.

So now.
Toast eaten.
Tea drunk.
Words spent.

What. A. Morning.
Time to switch time zones.
It's 10pm.
Nice.

Great Man

"Tutu chides Church stance on gays"

Sunday, 18 November
(From the full BBC News article at http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7100295.stm)

"South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu has criticised the Anglican Church and its leadership for its attitudes towards homosexuality."

"Archbishop Tutu referred to the debate about whether Gene Robinson, who is openly gay, could serve as the bishop of New Hampshire.

He said the Anglican Church had seemed 'extraordinarily homophobic' in its handling of the issue, and that he had felt 'saddened' and 'ashamed' of his church at the time.

Asked if he still felt ashamed, he said: "If we are going to not welcome or invite people because of sexual orientation, yes.

'If God, as they say, is homophobic, I wouldn't worship that God.'"

The more this man says, the more my respect deepens. Finally someone being sensible, practical, and aware on this issue. Sorry to be blunt, but most other opinion leaders in the Anglican Church need to get a grip.

ridiculous fridayness

Heyheyheyhey....

Whew what a week, yes indeedy, what a week.

It's only 5pm and already darkdarkdark outside. Not a drop of sunlight anywhere, not even a streak in the sky.

Last night darkness came more slowly. I even got to see three planes carving pink rays into the sky, crisscrossing next to the slim crescent moon.

It's very quiet tonight...

chocolate vs herbal tea

Too many chocolate fingers. Why do I always make this mistake? I have not eaten them in years but should surely remember that if you eat six of them really fast (ie in under three minutes, I guess it could have been faster), you feel sick. Somehow this simple truth escapes me.

So I am trying to make up for it with ginger and lime tea -- which just so happens to be the best ginger and lime tea I have ever had. I bought it at the little health foods shop in the village where my grandma used to live.

Besides balancing chocolate snacks and herbal tea, I am currently sans bike. Yes, the handlebars fell off my bike. Is this something that happens a lot? I have to say I was worried about the gears, the tyres, or perhaps the brakes. But the handlebars? They seemed solid.

Yes, so this morning we lifted my bike into the car. It seemed like a drugged horse in a way, not sure why this image came into my mind, but the bike just seemed so vast when it was laid on its side and carefully put on the folded back seats. Not that you would want to put a drugged horse in the back on your car, but still.

Anyway, that's about the major highlights of a quiet Saturday here, apart from reading, which is now my primary occupation. Not that I am complaining, it's definitely what I chose. It's just strange being in an occupation where my job is to think. Think, read, write, argue, think, etc, in some endless circle that contains full measures both of satisfaction and frustration. An endless quest to communicate things you yourself are only now just beginning to understand.

Anyway, speaking of reading, that is what I must now go and do. My tea is also best drunk hot...

a little vent

Question.....

does being part of an academic community have certain obligations attached to it? what factors are particularly important in an community focused on the discussion and practices of the social sciences/humanities? how do the ideal norms of the community affect the way we should act? how do we move academic discourses forward together? in sum, what can make academic communities valuable? i.e. why are we here?

perhaps....

-does it mean that we have to examine carefully the concepts we use when we interact with each other?
-does it mean that we have to be cautious of the frameworks we use in our community discourse?
-does it mean that we have to be aware of the importance of integrity not only in general life, but also specifically in the context of an academic career where without reputation of integrity, i fear, a scholar is very little....if no one listens to what (s)he says....unless the selling of souls enters the equation...
-does it mean we have to be aware of diverse backgrounds and experiences that escape those wretchedly weak categories so often provided by our society and language?
-does it mean taking into account AND USING analytical tools when discussing emotional issues?

I actually think that it does. And am surprised at how strongly I feel this. If we, as people who choose to sit around and think about these issues all day (and night), cannot discuss issues of social categories and history without descending into personal debates based on weak and analytically lazy concepts, then what hope is there of building constructive societal discourses? Why are we bothering to think about these issues at all?

I think that joining an academic community, at no matter what level has certain integral responsibilities, and it makes me angry when these are ignored. Maybe I'm overly idealistic about the whole concept of academic 'community' and will be angry frequently but so be it.

I knew it, from the first week. This year was not about learning about 'Africa'. This year was learning about people. The way they see themselves, the way they see others, what in fact an 'other' is.

Indeed, 'Africa' itself brings up these same questions, in the concept's construction. Who belongs? Who doesn't? Who has power? Who has a lot of power? Who has only a little? Who has enough money to free themselves from trivial everyday questions? Who uses every last ounce of resilience to enjoy the glory of every day?

People everywhere seem to engender conflict -- and yet at the same time recognise that it engenders pain, suffering, and misery. Maybe it's inevitable. Maybe it's always there.....maybe there will always be a "social entrepreneur" ready to stir it up....if only the state is "prone" to attack.....

And yet, we can communicate in such beautiful ways. We can weave words and melodies, rhythms and beats, thoughts and visions. And we know that though we are ultimately alone, we can have some company on the way.

Talking to a larger audience sometimes. Singing our song to the world. Stirring up the minds of hundreds, thousands swaying together in the colours of one flag, with one symbol, one word.

And yet there is that smaller audience. The hardest audience of all. The face-to-face that reveals the intricacies of honesty and deceit. The personal devils doing battle on the sidelines while other forces hang in the air, perhaps missing each other, sometimes, occasionally, embracing.

Those embraces feel rare sometimes. And their lack makes me feel cold. Why is it that we can stir up crowds and yet in private not look each other in the eye? Why is it that we can sing an epic song of our history and not answer the simple question over breakfast? How is it that we can throw a spear form afar and not inspect the scar on our neighbor's wrist? How can we weep over the ocean flooding our kind and yet not see the tears falling just there, on the corner of the street?

Speak quietly. Think carefully. You're in a community, whether you like it or not. You can't run away, you can't leave it. They follow you, from miles away, their voices echoing in your heart, tapping softly and then just before midnight hammering so loudly you might choke.

And so I say choose to look each other in the eye. Tell what you see on your faces. Speak those thoughts that otherwise drip through the floorboards. Take them not to decorate a faraway wall or for the community gossip ring, set them there on the table. Pass them round the table. Feel the intricacies, feel the bruises, the chips.

Don't throw the paint on my wall. I can't take all of it. I can't take these public dances where you embrace only to slide the knife in deep.

Please talk to each other.