In the play "Nangula's Son", set in 1984, in northern Namibia, a village amidst the battles between the South African Afrikaaner, "koevoet" occupation forces and the People's Liberation Army of Namibia, a white young man is lost after a skirmish, collapses and is found by two women. One of them, Nangula, takes care of the man and adopts as his son, in spite of fears from the community.
Firstly, carrying for the enemy, Nangula is labelled as a traitor and one that is compromising her own safety. With the prospect of the PLAN slitting her throught from ear to ear on the one side for treachery or being killed by the koevoet soldiers, Nangula is betwixed between two violent entities, on both sides. "Which soldiers she asks?" when she is warned that the soldiers will kill her.

This was a poignant play that probed into what it means to be caught between two sides and whether Namibians could show agency and transcend, racial and ideological boundaries to assist fellow humans

Interesting week

So here I am writing. And my week has been so interesting.

My mom want's me to give my dad what is called a "missed call" wherby you call someone and hang up and because they see your number on the screen and then call you back.
I am soo annoyed by the fact she is asking me to give him a missed call from my phone, because he apparently does not pick up when she calls with hers.
She gave the missed call and now he is calling back and she is going to answer, " ALLO zashto ne se obazhdash zashto ne digash..." Why don't you call, why don't you answer?

I just spoke to him
"Daddy come home, now please, stop with this alcoholo"
"I'm not drinking"
"Then what are you doing then"
"It's world music day ( by the way I danced in an ampitheatre in zoo park (not the zoo, just a park called zoo park in Windhoek) today and I was awarded a shirt from the franco-namibian cultural centre)."
"World Music day celebrations are over come home"
"Ok"
The 'ok' signifies that he will come sometime when I am asleep.
The difficulty of confronting this problem, of him comming home late after drinking. I am not in position to preach. I mess up too, but then I know how find help, does he?
I hope so. And how do I address it?
OK, it's an affirmation.
Another part of the web of lies that we weave in this family, where everyone knows about everyone.
I had a dream the other day I was by the sink, et j'etais en train de faire vaisselle (j'ai google' ce mot) and my mother was by my side. And I just could'nt take it anymore, in my hands, I was washing the plates and I felt the suds on my skin and at the same time I said, no I don't like vanilla ice cream, I only like caramel, that's it!

My friend, one of my best friends, no my best friend, Chinonto says that people in my family know this. But they are not accepting it, not to themselves. They are just waiting for me,
Waiting for me to say something.

Letter to the Romans

And though I knew God, I rejected Him.

So He gave me up to my sinful desires.

I exchanged the love of the ever-living God for that of a digital cross ,
instead of the true Cross,
and I tunneled down
deep into the tube

Now from here, I have my arms my, legs, my torso, all of me is still intact
and I thank God for that,

I need to return to Him though, I do.

I do.
Yesterday, j'ai reussi a resister
mais pas aujourd'hui

Immunisation Campaign: Measels and Polio 2009

E' molto importante riflettere su una esperienza volontariato siccome nelle esperienze quotidiane si trova la verita' di quello che siamo e quello che vorremmo essere.
Oggi ho cominciato la mia terza campagna di immunizazione control il polio e il morbillo,
Sta mattina mi sono aggiunto a un gruppo di una centania di persone, volontariati, la magior parte dei quali sono state donne, e infermieri al siede della scuola delle professioni medici della Namibia. E stato un po' disorganizato, le infermerie tentavano a condividere tutte le diverse persone in diversi gruppo che sarano mandati a diversi luoghi della citta' di Windhoek dove i bambia di eta meno di cinque anni sarebbero stati immunizati,
e beh, al inizio h0 visto che il nome non era sulla lista di gruppo 15, attacato al muro della scualla davanti alla quale tutti erano fisati cercando i propri nomi e posti di vaccinazione.

Meno male, dopo due pregherie communi, una preghiere per chiedere Dio per farci concentrare sul lavoro che stavamo per fare seguita dal Padre Nostro, ordinate dalla infermiere direttrice che stava parlando per un altoparlante ha cominicato il la condivisione della gente in gruppi.

La Namibia non e' un paese laico, no per niente, la nostra fede in Christo e diffusa in quasi tutti i diversi campi della nostra vita, sia publica, sia personale.
Alla fine, abbiamo immunizati circa 65 bambini, pero' abbiamo comesso un errore di negligenza, che grazie a Dio non e' stata mortale. Dovevamo maculare il police di ogni bambino che riceve i due vaccini, ma per il fatto che siamo stati troppi confidenti, io e le due studentesse infermiere e un unomo infermiere dell'armia namibiana, vestito da un soldato, non abbiamo letto tutte le istruzioni che ci sono state fornite,
Questo e' stato il momento piu 'giu' della giornata, quando mi sono acorto che non ero un professionista e che magari ho compresso una parte del campagno immunzatorio.
Domani so che cosa fare, leggere e non perdere niente, non assumere niente neanche.

Il momento piu 'su' di oggi e' stata quando un ragazzino di circa 4 anni mi e venuto per ricevere le goccie del vaccino di polio, io l'ho preso nelle braccia e liu mi ha immediatamente abbraciato tenendomi mentre che lo ponevo sulla sedia nella quale si sedevano i bambini e si apprivano le boche per le goccie.
E come che in quelo momento ho provato una sensazione indescrivibile.

Living Wafer

He is the lord of the living, not of the dead,

In the Church sometimes,
you than think, during the adoration
that this is just a mere wafer,
inamimate,
dead
wafer
which we give so much attention

the body that is about to crumble

but this morning,
in the early hours
in my bathroom
I discovered
that he is Living
not dead

He touched me
and than the passion, for others yes (it did flee)
and he came to me
and I came
to him
and it was a
win win
situation

adoration
of the living
the one
to whom you come
always

Filmi nyama

"Gledate li filmi" popitah Babche, babami, po telefona, az v Namibia, tya v nashata vila, uiutna v Bankia, endo selo blizo do Sofia,
"Ne ne , filmi nyama" mi otgovori.
I taka zatvori, s mnogo tezhak glas, svucheshe deistvitelno umorena. Mnogo sa rabotili vneska na vilata, tui kato na sa hodili tam ot 15 dni i taka rabotata im e pritupala.

Moga li az da samo tolkova rabotliv, daje na moita vurzarst?
Da i tryava?
"Nameri li si rabota? ", "Usiguriavashli si budeshteto?" me pitaha te, babche i diadko, kakto az gi naricham
"Ne oshte, no utre otivame do ministerstvoto na stopantsvoto, no nai dobre shte bude da otidem na ministerstvoto na zdravopazvaneto", az kazah.
I istina beshe.
Samo ne im kazah che v Januari iskam da zapochna rabota kato uchitel nyakade daleche...
v zatunten raion,

R

I thought I would write tomorrow, but it is already Saturday, here in Namibia, so there I'm writing.
I have to learn LaTeX so that I can make my CV in it.

That's boring stuff to put on a blog I admit
Anyway,
To what extent am I a Namibian man that must now redefine himself after an experience in Italy and the United States of America? Am I merely part of the brain drain, do I want to flee?
How do I feel about my twinned self, that I am Namibian and Bulgarian, I am a dancer and a scientist and the tension between these two (especially between the dance and the science)
Can I even call myself any of these 'labels' at all.
Well whoever you are, reading this blog, chances are I am missing you deeply.

I am still sick

So I am still sick with cough and cold.
Hopefully, I will recover soon, somehow.

I am cleaning up all of the things in my room. Yesterday, I found a basket, a traditional one that my grandmather in the North of Namibia, (Owamboland) probably made.

A shallow basket, more like one of those Chinese hats you see in the movies, but upside down
And it is made of reeds, yellow reeds and decorated with brown here and there, from bark, I think, (not actually sure, see how little I know about my fatherland).

There were coins in the basket, coins from America, dimes and pennies, a one pound coin from the United Kingdom and centiemes from France. Interesting is it not.
The places we have been.
My sister should come back from England next month.
This month, I am resigning myself from family issues.
I need to organize my room,
apply for the things I need to apply for, that I want to apply for, including the "Teach South Africa" fellowship, the South African version of Teach for America. However, I hope to find work here in Namibia as a teacher, but over 600 teachers here are looking for work.

I found out that there is very little funding for MPH programs alone in the US.
What this means is that I will probably have to do an MPH here in Namibia.
There is alot, alot of incidences of disease and much still remains to be discovered here. In fact, it would an ideal place for an epidemiological study, I believe.
Now I just have to get over the initial shock of studying here.
Well my plan is is to do well here and then do a PhD in the US, and PhDs are funded.

So why do I even want to teach then, why not just throw myself in the public health/epidemiology work right away.
I feel an urgency to impart knowledge to young people, to make then inquire and find answers about the physical world. It's clear I would teach science.
The came into my head one day last summer.
I was working at my bench in the lab and the power went off. It was day time, so all we had was the ambient light the flooded in through the windows. People all around were rushing to save whatever they had in fridges and incubators, but I was just at peace. And I told Yuri, a kid in the lab for the summer, I could be a teacher.
"A teacher", he said.
A teacher. And I though about it there. Then I found out about Publich Health and I thought this would just go away, and be replaced. But nothing is replaced.

Tear

There is the tear,
it is what I really fear
to say
that someday, I won't dance anymore,
that I will have forgotten and lost it all
so is that why I long, to do as my profession,
but then if I do, will it, can it become a chore?

What about helping oters, and public health,
the order, so tall
to serve others,
what for?
what exactly for?
They say here "AIDS is rubbish, just give it up"
Up
Up
give what up?

Give what up?

Christ, save me,
from this tear,
from fear

Oh Lord Hear My Prayer, In Morning when I rise...

Dear Lord,
Teach me how to be,
to gain discipline agian

Sono cosi confuso che non riesco a scrivere una frase che ha senso

Drowing
Drowing in confusion

I thought we would have dinner tonight,
with my family
but I ended cooking and eating alone
my own food
what will I do in the comming days?
well first let me recover from this cold I have,
but then?
but then?
when?

Amen

I am kind of schizzo, (though not really)

Tel Aviv the Flight is boarding (Flying home, 2008)

Sitting behind a family from Israel. Isrealis they were we sat back to back on the airport leather seats. I was there to use the power outlet nearby. They were waiting to board their flight to Tel Aviv. Supposedly. The South Airport officer, dressed in his blue uniform announced “Tel Aviv the flight is boarding”. The man sitting behind me, presumably the father of the group answered, “OK” and he continued to prattle on in Hebrew with his children and wife seated next to him.

The rasp and grating sounds of Ivrit were my peace, my solitude and counsel. What a beautiful language indeed, which I do not understand, but it sounds intelligible. First I heard Afrikaans, and I though they were bilingual South African Hebrews who now lived in Israel, but then it was not Afrikaans. It was not French or German either, but I swear I heard him eventually say “bon …. The flight is leaving”. Bon , beuno vamos, or bon, on y va?
They did left eventually, but not before they were joined by more members of their party. Two women came carrying duty free shopping bags, not fretting in the least bit to catch their flight. They talked and smiled and laughed all of them, sharing chocolates and reprimanding children before they actually walked to the gate. As their pleasant exclamations and warmth of their voices swathed me with joy I turned my head to look at man behind my right shoulder and he smiled.

Israelis, many of them I know in my life. Dror, bird of Freedom, Yael, first dance teacher and peer at school, Ze’eva and Illana my current dance teachers. And Itamar, the capoeira virtuoso. Isaiah too my friend whose heart is in Israel. My faith, my savior , born in the territory and of the nation, (the same nation?) two thousand and eight years ago.
So as I sit hear and wait to be productive, waiting till tomorrow when I may fly home, I ruminate on Israeli’s who have been and still are along my path.

Tel Aviv, the flight is boarding and probably boarded already.


2009 ON THE Flight from JFK to JHB, no long stopover in JHB overnight.

Ya Ribom, Ya Ribom, this song from the times we sang at the CJL, it is within me and floods me.

The things he left behind

There are things I left behind, after packing up my stuff in my room, in Princeton, in Little Hall, in America, they were all over the place, in no logical order

They include one Bible given to me by Craig Schindewolf,

One book “Searching for the invisible God” , a gift from Elliot Leung,
Oh dang

The things he left behind,
Not like the things she carried, a song of word, to which Jenny Schölick created a dance
A woman dressed as a madam, complete with gloves, and a hat, carried in her purse,
With her arms, obtuse angled, curved above, her, as if shielding and a decisive stare on her face, she is a woman decided,

The things I left behind, though,
Were books, donated to the bookdrive
And some Bulgarian classic novels,
Bau Ganiuo I Yan bibian, I left them to lie there, on the floor,
And the talasimia,

So this is what it means to travel light, to leave it behind,
The yoga mats,
The two bags I had,

And all of my writings, all of my informal, prose and poetry,
All recycled,

Even you, the journal I wrote in at Etanga
I left you too,
All those notes
Gone
But no
I found it in my drawer
Le Voilà, I exclaimed!



But I left behind my Lewis Center for the Arts shirt,
That I wore in Etanga,

So that my art continues without it
Independent of it,

This is what it is to surrender the material
The tangible

And ask Matthew what to do,
And be told that my wealth is not in things on this earth,
And I found peace



With me I took,
Still a desire to dance
And the doing of dance
And the dearth of resources,

I took my questioning about how I can help
And the tear between art and the ‘ology’, namely the epidemiology,

Also I took the truth,
Of me
And a virus, though luckily,
Not H1N1.