We spent the week with the Watha people of Kenya, traveling from Watamu and Malindi to their ancestral villages. What is most memorable is the quiet dignity of people who, by every Western measure, live in extreme poverty; and yet, they may be among the wealthiest people we’ve ever met. Nevertheless, life is challenging. Families live in mud huts with thatched roofs, without plumbing or electricity. If a child is lucky, they attend a dilapidated school with 50 other students or more packed into one classroom. In one remote primary school, the desks are 25 years old. The blackboards are crumbling. There are two pit latrines and no water in the school of 500 kids. Schoolbooks are castoffs from other institutions, and the only food the children eat are—just a cup of cornmeal porridge in the morning, maybe two if the school can stretch it. Despite this paucity, the children were laughing. They greeted us with song, dancing in threadbare uniforms handed down over generations. One drum was a plastic water jug. When I pulled out a guitar and harmonica, they lit up, cheering and dancing as if I were a world-famous musician. They’d never seen live music before. That moment, taught me more about joy than any concert hall or theater that I ever played in. Our friend Guyo walked 30 kilometers each way—22 miles—as a child just to attend primary school. He’d sleep on a mat for the week at the school, then walk back. No roads, no crossing guards, just wild boars, snakes, and open terrain. His story isn’t exceptional. It’s normal here. To be clear, there is nothing noble about poverty. It crushes opportunity and limits choices. But the narrative we often carry in the West—that material poverty equals misery—doesn’t hold up here. These kids, without toys, tablets, TikTok, and the thousands of distractions that are the bane of contemporary culture are vibrant. Their families are intact. Their community is strong. No one is alone. What struck us was the contrast between our apparent affluence and wealth in the West. In the U.S., we spend nearly $2 trillion a year on the military, but 25% of our elderly live in poverty. Millions go bankrupt over medical bills. Our infant mortality rate is among the highest in the developed world. In urban centers and rural towns alike, children suffer from food insecurity, addiction, depression, and isolation. In Europe, Russia is spending trillions to destroy Ukraine, and Europe is spending trillions to defend it. We are on a planet wide ecological crisis, that will doom humanity, and we waste millions on war. The US pays hundreds of billions of dollars so that Israel can destroy Palestine and rule supreme, and yet half the world does not have access to clean drinking water. Who are the impoverished people here? The Watha who spend zero dollars on war and military, or the West with their voracious appetite for war? Meanwhile, in Watha villages, people live in what we’d call extreme poverty—but they are wealthy in time, connection, and place. No one smokes or drinks alcohol. There is no fentanyl or drug crisis, or the hundreds of variations of Western neurosis and psychosis. They look healthy and all look strong and fit, and who easily walk a dozen miles a day. No one is obese. Their diet is primarily plant-based. Most have never tasted Coca-Cola or eaten processed food. Most have never ridden in a car. Few have traveled more than a few kilometers from home. They rise with the sun, tend the fields by hand, and rest at midday. They are not consumers. They are participants in life. One elder told me, “We don’t have much, but we have enough.” That phrase could rewrite economic theory. Nevertheless, life here is fragile. Climate change has dried up forests and farmland, making crops less predictable. When water is found, it is often contaminated. Guyo’s mother survived a crocodile attack while collecting water. People walk miles, even pregnant, for basic healthcare. A broken solar panel at school means no light, no internet, and no charging for an antique laptop that no longer runs. We are grateful that our organization www.gracecaes.org, with our generous donors were able to assist in providing five wells with pumps that have helped to transform this community Yes, outside assistance matters—but only when it’s driven by listening and respect. To underscore, as experts on community development, the one essential key is to deeply listen to what people have to say and understand their wisdom. After emailing our supporters about the plight of a school, one donor quickly gave $500 to replace desks and blackboards. That was all the school principal asked for. We wanted to repaint the classrooms, but that’s my Western sensibility. The children don’t complain. They are grateful simply to be in any kind of school and learning. ADHD is often a Western construct, children here are profoundly grateful to be in school and attentive to the teacher. The village elders don’t ask for any kind of luxury. They only asked for help to preserve their culture. Their traditions, stories, and songs are their treasures, and they want their children and grandchildren to inherit them. If we can also help with water access, some basic health care, and schools they area overwhelmed with gratitude. Our support and technical assistance to this community is a partnership. They teach us about community and gratitude, and we offer our support in grant writing, technical assistance, and project planning. We’ve met children in the U.S. with closets full of toys, streaming access to every cartoon, and three kinds of cereal for breakfast—who are far less joyful and content than the barefoot kids we met and danced with in Watha land. We’ve seen kids in New York, Nairobi, and Europe numb from social media and prescription drugs. We’ve know of elders in Florida who live alone in air-conditioned silence, disconnected from their families. We call this modernity.
Court of the Lions: Al- Hambra
Court of the Lions: The Moor’s Last Sigh 25 August 2023 In the seventh Century, heralded by the prophet Mohammed, a religious fervor called Islam rose out of the desert of Arabia. It swept like a tidal wave across the Middle East, North Africa, and Iberia and finally stopped at Poitier’s battle in France. The Iberian Peninsula conquered and contested for centuries by Neolithic tribes, Phoenicians, Romans, Visigoths, and others, gained the presence and richness of the newly found Islamic world. While Europe floundered in the long chaos of the Middle Ages, the Moorish courts flourished. At the center of this Empire is the Al Hambra in Granada and the architectural jewel, the Court of the Lions. Granada lies in the plains at the foot of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in Southern Spain. In the center of this valley, carved out of the top of a mountain with a commanding view of the region, is one of the seven wonders of the modern world, the Al-Hambra, the Red Fort. As the centuries passed, the Alhambra transformed itself from a military bastion to an oasis of gardens, a center of learning and culture, and the apogee of Islamic civilization. The steep path up to the Alhambra requires a walk over a kilometer in length. The cobblestone path at each twist and turn offers a glimpse of the elegant city of Granada below. The hillsides are wildly overgrown with forests and the ruins of ancient walls and portals that barely hint at the hundreds of armies that have traversed this hillside and the thousands of soldiers who died in an attempt to conquer it. The moat surrounding the fortress, more than forty meters deep, hints at the virtual impossibility of seizing it. Today, peacefulness envelops you as you approach the outer ramparts of the massive red stone fortress walls. Walking to At the core of this citadel, the paths are lined with fruit trees and lush gardens. At one time, vendors of food, textiles, exotic birds, and jewels from all corners of the globe lined these roadways, filling the air with dozens of languages as they called out their wares. In the center of this complex stand the Nasrid Palaces that personify the soul of Islamic culture and allow its genius to be best expressed in a perfect symmetry of architecture, one that is lyrical and expressive, yet, out of necessity, ruled by logic and the constraints of weight and time. In the central courtyard is the Alberca, known as the Blessed or the Myrtle Court, with its reflecting pools some forty meters long and less than three meters wide. Standing at the far end, you look through several portals, elegant vulva-like arches that recede into the distance. In the courtyards, the mellifluous sounds of fountains and running water are music to the ear, while the perfume of myrtle trees and orange blossoms fragrance the air. Islamic culture, with its music, architecture, and even its sacred literature, has a sensual fluid sensibility. Walk further through more portals and passageways, and you finally reach the true center of the Empire, the Court of the Lions. The central focus of the garden is the fountain of the Lions, representing nourishment from the four directions of the globe with narrow channels leading to each cardinal point of the compass. It mirrors a common theme in the Koran: Heaven is a garden with abundant running streams. Once planted with fragrant gardens, the inner courtyard garden beds are now filled with crushed stones. The counterpoint balance of stone and garden, sensuousness with symmetry, rationale and intuition, is reflected in each facet of this architectural jewel, the Court of the Lions. In the center of this courtyard are twelve stone lions that are oddly still and tranquil and embody a stasis as if time has been suspended. From the 700s to the 15th Century, the rest of Europe was in the thick sleep of the Middle Ages; the courts of the Moorish kings held a welcoming place for scholars who divined the secrets of astronomy, architecture, literature, art, hydraulics, and enough disciplines to fill a modern university. The Islamic court, though it preferred its subjects were Muslim, welcomed Jews and Christians; scholars and artists of all faith lived and worked here. The graceful calligraphy on the walls are lyrical and flowing verses of the Koran, the words of Allah as spoken through the prophet Mohammed, adjacent to love poems meticulously scripted in plaster, sculpted into the arches and walls. The love poems became flowers that transformed into birds and peacocks. Artists expressed their devotion to Allah through this mystical vision in every facet of life and nature. Nature was not separate from life but integral to it. In the Court of the Lions, one could find the perfection of Islamic culture ordered by beauty, logic, and cohesion. In the Court of the Lions and its adjacent throne room, a vaulted gilded ceiling carved in wood and inlaid with gold and brass lays out the cosmology of the heavens. Allah is the alpha and the omega in the constellation’s epicenter. The representation of the ineffable was neither a caricature of God nor a pantheon of Saints painted across the ceiling or on the walls. God was alluded to by the simplicity of a star at the center of the heavens. In Islam, God is ineffable, and to represent Allah in a picture or drawing is considered heretical. By the late 1400s, the Christian armies of Ferdinand and Isabella had conquered the other Moorish kingdoms of Castile, Seville, and Cordoba. The Reconquest had replaced the crescent moon of Islam with the cross all over Spain, and now it was making its way to this fortress. As the last Moorish Emperor Boabdil contemplated his future, he drank sweetened tea, listened to his generals and weighed the options, but he knew that his end could not be forestalled. He looked up at the calligraphy on the wall to the words of
VIETNAM LAOS CAMBODIA: MEDICAL & SCIENTIFIC AID NEWS BULLETIN
Namaya is a Vietnam-era U.S. Navy veteran, a poet and an artist. Though far from combat, the war always haunted his memory and inspired him to be a lifelong peace activist. The following is his essay Vietnam: A Journey to Forgiveness: Legacy of Agent Orange. “In Vietnamese, they say, ‘Making Peace is a treasure’: Dĩ hoà vi quý. I searched for this gift during a two-month journey from Ho Chi Minh City to Hanoi in early 2020, and to Laos, before COVID shook the world. I came to Vietnam for a writing and art residency on the impact of the war and forgiveness. My primary challenge was to set aside all my assumptions. Landing at the modern airport in Ho Chi Minh City, I quickly realized there had been a seismic change in this country over the past fifty years. Though this country is rooted in its rich cultural legacy, it is also a young, vibrant nation on the move, with most people under thirty. Despite the modernity, I saw the legacy of the war: the site of the My Lai massacre, the war museums with the preserved fetuses of the Agent Orange victims, the programs to locate UXOs (unexploded bombs), and the orphanages and vocational schools that care for the children and young adults with Agent Orange. I was wonderstruck by the magnificent vistas from the Mekong Delta, the shimmering green rice fields, Marble Mountain, the serene Ba Nang mountains, and the two thousand miles of coastline. However, the greatest treasure of this land is the extraordinarily kind, Namaya: veteran, poet and artist. resilient, and welcoming people. It was a great joy to see all the children, from tots to teens playing everywhere, and all the handsome young men and women! I kept asking myself: Why did we (Americans) want to destroy this country and these people? The Agent Orange/dioxin poison remains. The US military sprayed the toxic pesticide throughout the country from 1962-1971, knowing it was toxic to people and the ecosystem. A common fallacy is the Americans were trying to remove the “jungle” foliage and that the herbicide was benign. No, the US intentionally tried to destroy the forests, ecosystem, and farms to force villagers to move to the cities. Agent Orange has affected twenty to twenty-five percent of the land of southern Vietnam, along the length of Laos, and into Cambodia. Even fifty years after the war, children are born with congenital disabilities, and many victims receive no support or compensation. We visited schools and vocational centers like Friendship Village, founded by George Mizo, an American veteran. I played music, spoke with the young adults at the center, and was grateful to see how these people, even with significant disabilities, had so much joy despite their limitations. There is a need for a hundred or more centers like this throughout the country. People need to know the epic struggle of the Vietnamese in their courageous fight for freedom against almost insurmountable odds; this strength and courage is a core part of the Vietnamese identity. The United States had undermined the independence movement since the 1940s. During WWII, the Viet Minh, under the leadership of Ho Chi Minh, aided the US and Allied troops against the Japanese occupation. The French Vichy had collaborated with the Japanese during the war, but the Viet Minh bravely fought against the occupation and supported the allies. Nevertheless, the USA reneged on its promise of freedom, rejected Vietnam’s independence, and became mired in an unwinnable war. France, which had occupied Vietnam for one hundred years, was re-armed by the Americans until soundly defeated in 1954 at Dien Bien Phu. This victory led to the eventual collapse of all French colonies. With typical American hubris, the US military refused to accept the Vietnamese victory and continued the war until their defeat in 1973. The Vietnamese struggle for freedom was like David versus Goliath; though they were supported by the Chinese and the Russians, it was the North Vietnamese’s grit, courage, and resilience that won the war. The numerous Rambo and other American war movies are a pathetic farce and negate the truth of this war. The South Vietnamese government was a corrupt legacy of the French occupation and a puppet of the USA. President Diem was so corrupt the CIA had him assassinated. The Buddhist monk Thich Quang Duc immolated himself protesting the war in downtown Saigon on June 11, 1963. His profound sacrifice embodied the courage of the Vietnamese people. In this monumental folly, 58,200 American soldiers were killed and over 150,000 wounded. America’s loss, though tragic, pales to the Vietnamese losses: more than two million Vietnamese were killed, a country devastated by decades of war, and millions of people still affected by Agent Orange. The most poignant moment for me was meeting North Vietnamese veterans; even knowing I was a US Navy veteran, there wasn’t any palpable bitterness. Every family in Vietnam has a grandparent, uncle, or relative who was killed in the war. I am humbled by the Vietnamese’s courage, sacrifice, and willingness to forgive. Veterans like Chuck Searcy have worked in Vietnam for twenty years with Agent Orange remediation and removing UXOs (unexploded ordinances). Through the persistent advocacy of Senator Leahy, the USA is helping to clean up some of the most contaminated “hot-spots” sites of Agent Orange. Nevertheless, it is only a fraction of the aid needed. This poison affects all the places it was handled and stored: Vietnam, Japan, Okinawa, US military bases, the Philippines, and more. To make peace with our past, we must remediate the damage we have done, and those actions are the first steps to forgiveness. The work of cleaning up Agent Orange and removing unexploded ordinances must also occur in Laos and Cambodia. We cannot ignore our responsibility for the war: the destruction of vast forests and ecosystems, cultural and historical treasures that have been lost, and this land shattered by bombs and poisoned by herbicides. The Vietnamese, Laotian,
My Beautiful Vietnam 2020
Vietnam in this journey from January to March 2020 has been a revelation. Some parts are tragic, like the children we met at Friendship Village in Hanoi with birth-defects related to Agent Orange. We have met other people who have been injured by landmines. Yet, today, if you will I want to focus on the immense beauty of this extraordinary country of Vietnam. For my baby boomer generation the war that the Vietnamese called the American war we still have many real and vibrant memories. Though we should never forget the horrors of the war, in 2020 it is time to put on a new pair of lenses. We have been savoring the vivacious and vibrant life of Vietnam Vietnam is about children and youth. There are very few Vietnamese who are our age. My guess is that more than 60% of Vietnam is people less than 25 years of age who have no memory nor understanding of the war American kids who have no understanding nor real interest in knowing the truth of Vietnam. In our Instagram social media era if it did not appear on Facebook today it is irrelevant. I thoroughly enjoy the tremendously vibrant and friendly people here. Though I do not speak much more than 20 words of Vietnamese it is fairly easy to communicate. A smile and a wave hello and wishing people happy New Year’s Vietnam makes people. My camera and computer are filled with thousands of photos of children playing in the parks, the exquisitely beautiful women, and the scenery from the mountains of Ba Nang to the charming city of Hue. Children at War Museum in Dan Nang. It is a great joy playing and talking with the children here.
Beautiful Extraordinary Africa
We’ve been traveling since late November starting in Nairobi, Kenya, on to the fabled nature preserve of Masa Mara in Western Kenya, on to Tanzania – the Serengeti Nature preserve, Selu River, and to Zanzibar in December. At Christmas and New Year’s Eve in Mozambique visiting one of our dear friends who is the new Peace Corps director. On New Year’s Eve a bunch of people came together for music and drumming, with a huge fireworks explosion over Maputo harbor. Then on to the next two months through Lesotho, Swaziland, and South Africa, more amazing, beautiful, and complex culture than we could had imagined. Our journey thus far of some 10,000 kilometers, that has lead us here to Cape Town, then on to Zambia, Zimbabwe, and Botswana for a week at Victoria Falls. Turkish Airlines had a super cheap deal we could not refuse, the chance to spend 48 hours in Istanbul on our way back to New York. It has been a life-long dream to visit, understand, explore, and be awed by the sights we have seen on the journey so far. The cost? What is the price and value of living one of your life time dreams? In our four month stroll through Africa we’ve been astonished and surprised at every turn. In particular, it is the joy and fun of meeting people from all walks of life from former prisoners of Robben Island in Cape Town, our hosts along the way, the house party where I performed in Johannesburg and met a fabulous fun group of people, the bright and courageous activists in Soweto who are creating art schools for underprivileged kids, and other activists leading cultural tours in the impoverished townships. Musicians of all kind surprised us at every turn. Yesterday, we went along the southern coast near Cape Town and a lovely duo Fusa and Zoe were unexpectedly playing. I gave a concert of classical guitar/ flamenco in Eastern South Africa in Blythe Canyon for people who had never heard this kind of music. This is the pure joy of traveling, allowing the spontaneous surprise to emerge. The most unforgettable moments are watching children going to school, some with their mom, dad, or their older sibling holding their hands. Many of the children came from the impoverished Townships and yet despite the lack of water and basic services the uniforms were spotless. This is the enduring dignity of people that we have met – the poorest people with their hope and vision for a better life for their children. Oh, did I forget to tell you about the wildlife? Our original impetus had been to see the great wildlife migration of Wildebeest, Gazelles, and animals. The kind you see on the National Geographic Channel, but the opportunity to see the great five – rhinos, African buffalo, elephants, lions, and cheetahs… there is a spell binding enchantment as we roamed through the great animal preserves of Masa Mara and the Serengeti. Though we have been to zoos around the world, nothing compares to seeing these beautiful animals in the wild… all manner of gazelles, zebras of all stripes (sorry, couldn’t help myself), antelopes, giraffes, and that is only the tip of the astonishing variety of creatures. It is a veritable Garden of Eden. This was never so much true as seeing Ngorongoro crater, the most pristine valley in Tanzania, and the largest volcanic crater in the world. At sunrise, watching the light over this verdant pristine land gave me the feeling of how the gods first imagined and created the world. All the creature from flamingos, to wildebeest, lions, antelopes, the rare black rhinos, and birds of all kind who swooped above us. We were truly in the Garden of Eden. Too often, in the West, our view of Africa is of incredible poverty, vast slums, and misfortune galore, while that is true to an extent and important to consider in our travels, more vital is the amazing diversity and beauty we found in our journeys. We have been energized to meet, advise, and help people with their local community projects. In particular, young activists who have a ton of dreams and need a wee bit of organizational planning. But the brightest stars on our journey have been all the school children in their uniforms all with their backpacks bursting with possibilities. For us as senior travels, in our mid-sixties, we have our share of aches and pain, but we are vibrantly healthy in our passion and curiosity. We still walk between five to fifteen kilometers a day and we are travel junkies. Though we have visited about 100 countries and counting, we are even more animated and curious about the world. Simply, we could not imagine a life where we did not travel. Our budget is modest, out lodgings simple, and If you’ve ever dreamed of seeing the vast beautiful areas of the Serengeti, the Masa Mara, the bewitching beauty of South Africa’s Wild Coast, the dreamy enchantment of Zanzibar, moonlight over Maputo harbor, to para-glide off the top of Table Mountain and dance hundreds of meter high in the wind, and to know that you have only tasted a tiny bit of this extraordinary enchantment of the world. In the weeks to come we will journey on to Victoria Falls, more of South Africa, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Botswana and finally winging home via Istanbul. Come and visit this extraordinary beautiful land and discover this enchanted corner of the globe yourself.
Dar Es Salaam Tanzania 14-16 December 2018
On the 14th through the 16th we were in Dar es Salaam. Flying in from Julius Nyeere airport. Dar es Salaam – like many African cities bursting with overpopulation, lack of opportunity, intense poverty, lack of electricity and clean drinking water for the majority of the people. One of the things that struck me however was how civilized driving was. After spending time in Algeria earlier this year, there wasn’t much horn beeping were aggressive driving. The other problem we saw in Arusha was the cops constantly engaged in shaking drivers down. It was kind of funny in a weird way. There was no radar or speed gun, the cop would say you were going to miles above the speed limit give me $12. Then they would give a printed receipt from a machine that look like a credit card reader. A very legitimate appearing receipt. But, the police are paid a pittance, and this low-level racketeering is endorsed. We could’ve stayed at the higher end part of town by the beach, but we thought we could take in the older museums and the monuments. However, the downtown is broken sidewalks, buildings that look worn and shabby, and the waterfront was strewn with trash. On this Sunday morning of the 16th we walked around the older part of Dar es Salaam. The previous night we had been at a vegetarian restaurant called Swastik. Though the swastika is an ancient Indian symbol it had been sadly hijacked by the Nazis. We met our dear friend Sarah who has worked with us for the past several years. She is on a fellowship here in Dar es Salaam. It was wonderful to get her local knowledge on this. It is exciting to seeing a young friend approaching life and her adventures internationally in the way we did some 40 years ago. During the daytime the city seems relatively safe, but it is dodgy at night. It is a simple equation. It’s just that there is so much poverty that even purse snatching or worse, is the alternative. Generally, we say hello and greet people in Swahili. It is part of our campaign always the matter where we are to master at least the basic 50 words. In some countries it is less and another countries a bit more. On a Sunday it was very peaceful. Very calm. Tanzania is divided roughly half-and-half between Muslims and Christians. So on this Sunday it was very pleasant to walk around the old part of the city. No charm nor anything truly memorable. We did walk by one Lutheran Church close to the waterfront. Oddly they had a German Lutheran mass. There is also a Catholic Cathedral St. Joseph’s. We did not go in since both were full. There is also a mosque a few blocks away that was closed. I am sure like all mosque it would be open to us if we wanted to pray.In the morning at about 430 I enjoyed the sound of the first prayer call. Dar Es Salaam much like most other third world cities is deeply divided. Though we are only here too brief over time, it is a familiar tale. This downtown area that has grown so shabby and worn, and then a few kilometers uptown is the beach area where the international community and the embassies are. It was like taking a rocket-ship to a different planet. We ate at Salt for an Sunday afternoon brunch. All the things that I can’t eat, pancakes and waffles, and it is like being at Bella’s dinner in New York. The only thing missing was the maple syrup. As a Vermonter, it is sacrilege to eat a pancake or waffle without maple syrup. Not just your ordinary maple syrup, but grade B syrup is best with that slightly smoky flavor. Though we are fairly lightweight travelers, generally we travel with some maple syrup and coffee. Delicious first world breakfast! We so enjoyed the time with Sarah and hearing of her adventures in Tanzania. Her story of staying overnight in a Masai Mara home, while welcoming, made my delicate stomach cringe. It is not just the idea of drinking blood and cow’s milk together, but according to her story you pee wherever you want, and you defecate outside the gate. No one washes with soap. There is none. There is no such thing as filtered water. I am sure their got ecology is robust and bullets would bounce off of it. I bet you none of them suffer Crohn’s disease. It is all those invincible parasites. However, I will take a cup of yogurt to assuage my delicate digestion. I know there are travelers, who eats street food in Calcutta to Shanghai, and I am jealous of their intrepidness; however, my gut is made for slightly more refined fare. Sorry to be a woos! Sarah’s story of after the dinner, they would store it underneath the floor and the mice would come out and eat all the leftovers from the pots and pans. She was trying to sleep and kept hearing the sound of mice crawling across the pots. I am waiting for her to write down the story. That evening after we said goodbye to Sarah we went to this incredible first world shopping plaza on the waterfront, the Slipway. It was as if we had landed in Miami Beach or some first world waterfront Esplanade, but this Esplanade was filled with Tanzanians, Africans of all color, lots of East Asians, and a diversity of Mazungos (white people/ foreigners) We had dinner at a Thai restaurant on the waterfront and watching the sun going down across the harbor in Dar es Salaam. The sound of a disco in the background, children wheeling around on little bicycles, families strolling along the Promenade, and occasional women in a burqa, a few women in the multicolored scarves for a hijab. The conversations in the wind were of Swahili, English with accents of all kinds,
AFRICA TRAVELS
Friday, November 9, 2018 AFRICA THE START OF THE JOURNAL November 2nd in Vermont Kenya, Tanzania, Rwanda, Mozambique, Swaziland, and South Africa 9 Nov 2018 I have never been on Safari in Africa. Venturing to see the wildlife Maasai Mara National Reserve, Kenya. Serengeti National Park, Tanzania, and Kruger in South Africa. Safari, from the Arabic word of Safar, to travel. I love these various words for travel, journey, perhaps best, always is “Walkabout” a journey and travel to discover self. I have been an armchair traveler when it comes to the wilds of East Africa and to the amazing game reserves. On the wildlife channel and other places I’ve seen the astonishing diversity of wildlife from birds to lions, chimps and elephants and everything in between. I do not like going to zoo’s they are too depressing. It’s like going to a state prison and gawking at the prisoners and wondering why they’re there. I’ve seen amazing zoos in London with the tiger enclosure and the big open spaces for wildlife in zoos trying to create a natural habitat for the animals; however, as well intentioned as they are, It is still a prison for animals. As humans continue to willfully and sometimes intentionally destroy this Paradise of nature, it really does compel me to think about this word of humanity. I am not too worried about my safety with animals. I’ve been a vegetarian for 45 years. I have an agreement with the animal kingdom, I don’t eat them and they’re not supposed to eat me. I have been trying to communicate this message as widely as possible in all the countries where we are visiting. I assume that the wildlife will kind of see me and Zoe with a neon halo above our heads, and when they get hungry though go for the carnivores. That is our working thesis we will let you know how effective this has been. Though I have read much of Kenya, Tanzania, Zanzibar, Rwanda, Mozambique and South Africa… This will be the start of a three-month adventure in November 20 72 the beginning of March. Though I work full time as a writer and artist, I have the freedom to take this three-month journey with my Zoe. We have been cogitating on doing this trip for several years and after several delays we are finally doing this. A friend of ours Megan has a friend’s wedding in Kenya and we will travel together for a little bit With so much information you tube videos, and the plethora of information I feel like I’ve been there already. However, no matter how good your imagination is ain’t nothing like the real thing. There is so much wildlife tourism and how do we choose the wisest path? Getting ready for three-month trip The rule we try to follow which often doesn’t happen is to travel light. For myself, I generally fail. I travel with my guitar, a tennis racket stored in the guitar case, an Eagle Cree suitcase on wheels, my computer, my Nikon D 3200 camera, a backup Olympus camera, cell phone, chargers, and then with all that stuff we add a wee bit of clothes. We try to choose one climate zone per trip. Last year we had stopped in Iceland in late November and it was frigid. So we had to pack for Iceland and Spain. In East to southern Africa the temperature will be moderate to warm. Some hiking shoes, sandals, and just enough cloths to get by. Not to look like the grubby backpackers we were as youngsters, but stylish enough for Safari trip in both the city and the wilderness of Africa I know that this trip is privilege with a capital P! Huge privilege! Granted we have both worked diligently to afford this privilege, but as we have often traveled and lived in Third World countries, we are acutely aware of the economic disparity. I am uncomfortable with poverty. I feel like a Zillionaire compared to most people we will meet on the trip. The majority of people on the planet do not have access to clean drinking water, sanitation, adequate food, and shelter is often precarious. How do we travel simply without the glaring ostentatiousness? Of course, you can’t. Even more so as white elderly travelers, even as modestly as you may travel, especially in most parts of Africa you are seen as a wealthy white person. Is there a peace with this? Even being on these Safari trips to Kenya and Tanzania, they are designed to protect the wildlife and habitat. It is also a vital part of the local economy. By creating these wildlife preserves, sometimes as big as the state of Rhode Island, or even a fraction of that, the tourism is essential. RELUCTANT TOURIST We all have a slight reluctance to travel. Some people I know absolutely hate traveling and never want to leave their hometown. I can understand the desire to stay with the same level of comfort and familiarity. But we both love adventure and travel. In particular, I like meeting people on the road. As an artist and writer I love doing projects that involve people where we travel to. We’ve done community theater art projects as far south this Chile, over to Palestine and Algeria, , community activists projects in the Dominican Republic, humanitarian trips in Haiti and other places in the globe. Each new place and destination, each person that I met along the way enriches me. And I hope equally that it is an enriching experience with them as well. I find that I am the best that I am on the road. There is a freedom and unattached by the daily expectations. We meet new people and it is a discovery. Some of those relationships on the road have lasted all of our lives. Some simply for the moment. Though I am at heart a Libra homebody, I often find my home wherever I am.
1 May 2018 – Oh, no! Traveling again
1 May in Vermont and one of the last things I want to do is travel now. I am awake at 5 AM and starting to write. This is my morning routine at Blue Heron pond– I wake up, make coffee and start to create. I think of the line from Prufrock by T.S. Eliot every time, “”I have measure my life out in coffee spoons.” I love to sit at my desk overlooking b lue Heron pond. It is one of the most serene places on the globe. There is peace, tranquility and focus. I am so at home here. Yet, I find myself getting ready to travel for two months. We have just come back from several months in New Orleans with a big art show “Pornography of War and building a Peaceable Community,” then on to Guatemala, and points in between. My Zoe and I are gypsy homebodies. Yet, we love the discovery of traveling. We love the bazaars of cultures, languages, wonderful people we meet on the road, and the adventures we can’t even imagine. We are inveterate travelers. There are some travelers who can put a toothbrush and a change of underwear in their shoulder bag and be ready to wander the globe. I am jealous of that simplicity. Perhaps that is something we would do when we were younger, but now in our seventh decade we like a wee bit more comfort in our travel. My travel bag includes my sketchpad and black case for my colored pencils. Of course there is a laptop and a cell phone. A camera. Then there is my guitar and harmonica and a few changes of clothes. As kids we would travel the globe with some cash (not much and sometimes less) and a lot of optimism, but a credit card and some careful planning makes life far easier. When we were younger and first traveling in Europe we would sleep on the train overnight and arrive at our city to wander around during the day. Then when the last night train would pullout we would tumble into a 3rd class seat exhausted by all our discoveries and dream of our next place the following day. But I prefer my one to two star hotels now. I prefer my Eagle Creek backpack on wheels versus the heavy rucksacks. I have surrendered some of the spontaneity, but there is a joy in slowly savoring and discovering the world. I am not interested in simply putting another notch on my belt of a country that I visited. Instead, I love how we discover new colors and ways to see the world. It is not only in the cities and the monuments, but this incredible beautiful world that we live in from oceans to mountains, forests and jungles and all places between. Even as a poet, I find myself faltering for words, and simply capture the experience in a sigh of surprise. In my journeys and writings I hope to offer people the sense of how I look and travel. I am best armed with my sense of wonder. Though we are experienced in travel, it is always the task to look with beginner eyes as in the Zen expression beginner eyes. One does not need to travel to exotic corners of the globe to have beginner eyes. Living in this small corner of Southern Vermont there is more than enough enchantment to occupy us for our entire lives. As the poem by William Blake suggests, “To see heaven in a wildflower and eternity in a grain of sand.” Imagine if we could simply be aware of the incredible beauty in each moment. It is a lot of fun being on the road connecting with old friends and making new friends. I love the surprise of traveling. Setting aside our expectations don’t we all become a bit complacent at home? We know where the light switch is in the middle of the night and we can find our way to the bathroom in the pitch black. We know where the switch is for the coffee maker without looking. I have my guitars and all my drawing pads here. Who would want to leave? Not me. But on Friday we take off on Aer Lingus to Dublin for 12 hours. The flight only takes about five hours and we stumble into the airport and grab a bus downtown. My Zoe is a genius when it comes to traveling. She scheduled a massage for us at 11 AM in Dublin on Saturday morning. She is more of the planner and I am eternally grateful. At noon we take in a play by Bernard Shaw with our friends. Then wander around downtown Dublin for a few hours and stumble on a plane to Portugal. See it is not that different than when we were kids. Though we have been to Portugal before this is the first time we will visit the South, Faro. I am looking forward to Fado music. This is another opportunity for me to mutilate another language. Though we are both Spanish speakers and 70% of Portuguese is similar, we won’t be there long enough to gain any kind of mastery. We are the masters of the 50 word lexicon in any country. With the exception of Chinese and Hungarian. it is absolutely glorious on blue Heron pond today 6 AM the sun is rising just over the treetops. Though I am looking to the West the light is illuminating the sky and clouds. 1 May is a harbinger of the glorious and magnificent spring. How could I even think of leaving and missing this beauty? But a series of circumstances, opportunities, and the chance to see both the French and Italian open tennis tournaments. Yes visiting with lots of friends along the way and our Algerian family in June for a wedding is fabulous. But being at the French Open and watching Rafa Nadal and the great stars of
