I do hope that my stories of miraculous healings, and how they came about, plus some metaphysical meanderings as well as my daily life, will fill your days with hope, healing, creativity and the Great Mystery.
Cheers
C.M.W
A few years ago my then partner and I were employed to work within a remote area of the Selous Game Reserve in Tanzania. Our job was to manage, and enovate, an old deserted camp situated on the plain overlooking Stiegler`s Gorge and the great Rufigi River. The dilapidated camp was the habitat of wild elephant, lion, baboon, rhino, zebra, giraffe, , wildebeest etc. etc. as well as many snakes, hundreds of squirrels, wild bees and billions of huge cockroaches. When we first arrived at camp the only water available for drinking had oil floating on top and the little bit of stagnant water was in the bottom of a rusted out forty-four gallon drum! So we had to collect our drinking water by hand, upstream at least two kilometres, where after we had navigated on foot through buffalo, rhino etc land we could climb down to the crocodile-infested great Rufgi River with our old containers! This is another story!!
With a little maize, some dirty water and much courage, we set to work employing some Africans from a village about five hours drive away.
All of the men in the village seemed to be heavy drinkers. To our amazement the duka only sold beer, Arnotts? biscuits, neatly packaged in motel type packags of two biscuits, and sugar. Loads of it!
Most of the villagers had never been out of their village or ever seen a white man, never mind a blonde white woman, yet they had access to beer!!!! All seemed so crazy. Nobody spoke English. Charades was in.
We somehow managed to employ eight men ranging from eighteen to sixty years old and immediately brought them back to the camp, along with their swags. All were drunk.
Before leaving Dar-Es-Salam we had been warned by our Indian employers, as well as their African staff, that we will never be able to coerce any villagers into actually working. `Nice idea, but you know they won't actually do any work' The head cook had said to us in confidence.
Laughing, the Indians had shouted at us as the train pulled out of Dar-Es-Salam station"GOOD LUCK'
Yes those Indians seemed to know what they were talking about.
The first week in camp was a nightmare. Our charges were rude and inconsiderate to us, and to each other,
and absolutely hated the idea of working. It was a real battle to get them out of bed, never mind to help with the cooking and labouring. By the third day all their alcohol supplies were finished and there was no means of aquiring any more. They all had no self-esteem whatsoever and were now even more abusive and aggressive towards us as well as each other. Interesting. Charades were very much our way of communicating.
The men spoke no English and I spoke only a little Swahili, my partner none. Nobody could be trusted to follow any requests, and some of our belongings seemed to grow wings.You can imagine the scene, a bit like Fawlty Towers African style!
With a little love, listening, sharing and creativity all this was soon to change. By the end of the first month the change in these men was colossal.
Soon after we arrived I decided to make a sculpture for my wall out of wood, rocks and vines. In the moonlight I started to carve the front of an old woooden cupboard I had found that was half rotten. At lunchtime I carved a couple of bits of branches to hang my clothes on and statred to make some earings out of little rocks and some old electrical wire I had found. As I created I often would start singing and indeed I would sing for at least an hour every night to 'tone' the land and call in the animals. The boys, whom I had never heard singing, were fascinated. My you I was the only woman in camp.
My partner, Somerset, fashioned some beautiful bangles, also out of electrical wire, and before long, and after some encouragement, the "boys" joined in, making their on creations also out of the old electrical wire.
The "boys" delighted in their bangles, which they all very proudly wore around their wrists.
Somery and I also made didgeridoos, out of various bits of pipe, and a huge chime that we insisted had to be played by our cook to call us in for meals!
Creativity and self-expression began to set fire in the camp. The more creative the boys became, the happier they were. Soul Food. The camp now was filled with song and laughter.
Self -esteem and the joy of living had replacd drunkeness and unworthiness. Each morning we were the slow-coaches now. All fighting had disappeared. Laughter and song could be heard wherever the "boys" worked, and those boys worked hard!
Adding creativity to their lives had transformed them. They had become self-assured, happy, creative, thoughtful and trustworthy human beings. Witnessing this transformation was one of the happiest times of my life.
I will try and find some photos of Africa to post, no promises though as I have moved a few times since Africa, and most of the time spent there was lived in the moment which didn`t include lugging my Olympus 35 mm around!
Until next time,
Cheers CMW
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