Stray thoughts on Kokrobite beach.....

For the past few days now I am listening to some europian music, I think it is french and italian and somehow enjoying it a lot although not understanding a word of it…..Made me think today of this music I am listening to… these words possibly having totally different meanings tied to it, possibly talking about some tangible things and I thinking them otherwise, taking them for some ode of old love…….like this song "La Mer" which I now know is about the sea…though somehow it is tied to old love hanging always around us like the sea……. Made me think of do we all create our own realities to live with regardless of what reality really is?, our own created moments of reality …...sadnes and joy.... Our own perception of looking things, which may be totally out of context for someone else or so called reality……. Made me think of if there is really something called reality or is it just an illusion to keep us all tied up… like the four walls of a discotheque, holding us all together while we all are dancing to our own realities………La Mer...Qu'on voit danser le long des golfes clairs.. La Mer…. The sea is the same and remains the same, and perhaps we remain the same too, trying to see the whole world the way we want to see, enjoying the joys and sadness of intangibles and even tangible things the way I am enjoying these foreign songs…..Que tout le monde en est épris…...C'est la romance de Paris…. C'est la romance de Paris… the way I am enjoying this sea now…….I think the sea is happening to me now and am floating in the waves of this vast ghanian sea,…ignoring the grandeur I am in and only conscious of my own existence… Le Mer….. The sea... floating inside me…..and my thoughts floating in this sea of mine….. Le Mer...Des reflets changeants..Sous la pluie…expanding in the vastness of my empty self, me and my sea of thoughts in this ghanian sea…in the endless sea of time…………

(stray thoughts on Kokrobite beach)

Remember, Remember, the 5th of September

5th September 2008....An other day passed in my human life. Wondering around the streets of Stockholm, i finally settled on a bench in front of Strut-Gallerian near Kungsgatan Ostermalmstorg, and allowed my self again to break into those tiny pieces of my intangible but solid existence.....these pieces, "memories", "emotions",
"destiny", to name a few; all having their own lives and their own deaths and all detached from each other like the crowd i see now on this busy street... all in pursuit of their own happiness. The "Memory", thinking about all the people I want to remember and all i don't want to remember and trying to find happiness in both..... "Emotions" exiting me of doing the unknown for unknown reasons, reaching the extremes.... and "destiny" out of her old habit climbing the top roof and seeing the whole dancing show of mine with my tiny crowd go by..........and i don't know why the "question" piece of mine was silent today, asking nothing, saying nothing, and all listening......................I gathered this crowd of mine to walk around the known streets of Stockholm.... "Memory" seeing the same Irish pub where i danced like hell a year ago.....the central station where Tania said goodbye...... and the small coffee shop in Gamlastan where I started to feel schizophrenic in seeing you...where you said I have to love the whole world to love her and not knowing the meanings then i secretly promised my self to love the world.....where you said you want to hold the world in the palm of your hands and I secretly promised myself to become that world for you, ....... aah, the "Memory" got disappeared in the streets of Gamlastan and emotions took over, I ordered a coffee without sugar for their was still sweetness of you around the whole place and i remembered saying you "coffee tastes bitter when you are not in love".... and i ordered another one to assure my self of that..............

Another day passed in my human life, living with all these nostalgic schizophrenic thoughts and the dreams of being the whole world, and then to see it in grains of sand.....and a feeling of tedium is gradually increasing within me like a viral disease and i think sooner or later i have to let go of this habit of thinking and creating these artificial worlds and start treading on the real one ..... If I am ever to believe in a real world again................

Transit lounges.....

I found my self on a transit lounge again, in a different land and in a different time. This time being in AddisAbaba(Ethiopia) and with a different person, a young man to pass the next 5 hours.
Transit lounges sometimes become so symbolical and majestic to me, as if depicting the whole world in a small place. Allot of people from distant worlds and different times, trying to make their way from one gate to another, all these people acting like ships, floating in the sea of time, carrying loads of memories and experiences and a desire to keep the ship moving. The standing aero planes becoming the vessels of "desires", advertising hopes of the Promised Land....... No wonder an eye watching us humans from a distant galaxy would have enjoyed setting up all its telescopes on these small transit junctions to see the generalization of human variety in its minuscule version......

Just like common day life, their are people in the lounge who are just trying to survive from one gate (moments) to another and a look of frenzy is apparent on their faces....and then there are these 2nd type of people who, suddenly finding a lot of time ,try to get the most out of it, by shopping, sleeping or just seem busy thinking planning ahead. A third type of people are those who just like in real life give a damn to the time given to them and having a look of boredom hanging on their faces, wander around hopelessly. The fourth type, i consider my self to be part of are the writers. They are basically one of the three types above, but wherever they are, a part of them is always writing inside them, be it just life-journalism, biography, a poem or just creating a fictional story of a sweet blonde encounter to amuse themselves..

For a while i tried myself to be the third type and thought of about how boredom is related to Consciousness. Perhaps the equation could be

(Consciousness) x (allot of time) = Boredom
(Consciousness multiplied by allot of time equals to boredom)

This equation may not be agreeable for the religious persons, as for them the ample amount of time multiplied by consciousness would be equal to Heaven. Perhaps the religious types are the first type who are while existing in present try to live in future. I think the second type are also the ones living in future. But then are the third type the ones who are living in present? And if so, can the living in present be boring? I think it should be unless we forget about time. Perhaps the equation could become then

(Consciousness) x (Forgetting time) = Peace

But is it really possible to forget time and be conscious at the same time?


Oh Just forget about it, you know you never gonna find these answers (a bloody 3rd typer you are), now see that blonde looking towards you.....................

Freedom.......

Freedom....

One of the things I am enjoying in africa is getting a lot of time to read and think which keeps me busy most of the time.

I recently finished two very long and great books. "The road to freedom" by Nelson Mendela and "Shantaram" by Gregory Roberts. Both were autobiographies, the first one about a freedom fighter fighting for his countrymens' freedom from his own countrymen, the second about a freedom fighter fighting for his own freedom from his own countrymen........

Nelson spending his 27 years in prison in the persuit of freedom for his people and Gregory breaking the prison and living for years on run for his own freedom. Both men were running for freedom of somekind, and i was unable to rate whose motives were more purer although one being accredited with a nobel prize and the other wanted by interpol on various charges.

The idea seems funny to compare a renowned world leader with a nobody, but i saw alot of similarities....both men having common enemy(prison) and common goal(freedom)...both men sacrificing their immediate family for persuit of something greater... both men having that pinch of stubborness to be someone great... both men making their choices and living by its sadness and rejoices and above all both men doing things with honour, as Gregory puts in his book defining honour for a gangster, " people seem to mix the concept of virtue and honour, virtue is what you do and honour is how you do it", so i find both men honarable though sometimes not virtues even if the later one was part of an indian mafia but the same can be stated for nelson mendale of forming a militant terrorist organization responsible for setting up bombs in south africa and preparing for a gurella warefare, not to mention the colateral damage and loss of thousands of lives, both doing things for something great. Again i can quote shantaram "doing wrong things for right reasons"...... I wonder if mendela would have been even nominated for a nobel prize if the 9/11 incident happened in 60s.

The two books made me think about two concepts. Greatness and freedom.
What is greatness,what motives are greater, what makes a man great... is it the circumstances that make men great or is it the men who make themselves great by creating such circumstances.
And freedom. Is freedom a social act or a personal persuit, or is it just making choices and living by it even if that means going to prison for freedom's sake. All these questions i leave for you people to think and comment.


The more i think of these two concepts the more i see both being two sides of the same coin.

Alot of my close friends I think are doing great in persuit of freedom of somekind. Some trying to change the world for freedom's sake (freedom from satan, evil, or class struggle)and discussing whether it is good to make a church or a hospital. And others trying to live their lives in peruit of their individual freedom( climbing mountains,setting up businesses, living in alien and distant lands, going for yoga courses or simply bag-packing).

I find myself still sitting on the crossroads of going the nelson's way or Shantaram's way, thinking if it is really worth to feel great and free or is it just another illusion.........

till later

Salman

The I in me......

Call it my agnostic sense of horror, or my being nostalgically sensitive, but their was something, their was something in there in the walls , in the air, there was something out their in the whole ambience..... and then i looked on the floor and i came to know that i am treading on top of the slave dungeons where the old spirits are still breathing. The famous white castle of cape coast , one of the infamouse slave castles of ghana was entering into me, with all its past gradeur and sadness. The whole castle was colored in whity white color shining from miles along the coast. Not a good choice of color when you can be seen and get hit from the battle ships no matter howmuch cannons you put along the walls, but.. perhaps it was an attempt to make the black people afraid of the white monster...or perhaps to have a contrasting color to make the blacks escape difficult. or even perhaps a try by the governer capecoast to opiumate his own human conscience............ I heard the castle architect repeating van goph's words , " In my own work I put my whole life in jeopardy and lost my half reason to it"......

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Like the white color, everything must be having a purpose..... all the windows and the big patio opening towards the sea.. must be the outcome of the fear insticnts of the white...... if i were there i would have revolved the whole building 180 degrees towards the people and not towards the sea but perhaps i was not the white man on his own hostile made land...........

I often think about how to live life..... Living a life of POWER???? seeing things under control or ... Living a life of FREEDOM???? seeing things the way I like,.... or perhaps .......of mere Living a life of UNDERSTANDING??? seeing and completing the jigsaw puzzle around .... i often apply the in-the-shoes test on different occssions on me being the white master, or what would i feel if i was the black slave..... was it just about making money with slaves... or was it the battle between the evolved inteligence with the physically strong? or is it something bigger then the aprehension of me and i ......... a chess game being played by gods on the chessboard of time........., or ants being crushed below our shoes unconsciously....... or the clouds making shapes we cannot understand..... or a dust particle in a desert......or a rain drop going to become a sea of its own kind or to disapear in desert of nothingness............ This i of me is becoming uncontrolable now, a pitiful i, though living a life of me, but not exactly I, perhaps just an I who is lost in persuit of me who is not an I............. what is it all about....... I sometimes think i (or my me) need to stop the persuit of understanding and rather should choose one of the two words Power or freedom.......without any ifs and buts or i's or me's .... choosing to not to look back or becoming a statue of stone forever..........wouldnt it be good if I was a black slave or a white man tied in my own prison of physical apearance and playing destiny, would have been a true life of me and not the i playing me, but then......the audience may not see the suffering of a player lost in taking the ball towards the goal but the same time the players may not be able to live and feel the suffering of an audience, the I, who is not me and who is trapped in choices....

First week in Ghana

People selling things on the traffic signal, traffic rush, city with churches and mosques .........isn't this all sounds pretty familiar or say pakistanish? , But its not......................Dozens of men and women selling, bread, tissue papers, biscuits etc etc on the traffic signal as if you are moving through a grocery store...... hours and hours of waiting in traffic jams,....... churches of every god-dammit type (mehodist to catholics to "Lambs of god" to 12 apostles and jehovahs) and mosques of Ahmadis and other sects.......and above all you being treated as a white man, one can easily say Pakistan is doing quite fine.

But that was just the space around. The real beauty comes with the raw friendliness of ghanians. The real organic innocence of these huge kingsize people and such acceptance, one can easily understand how the actual white men, britishers, portugese, french, dutch may have sliced them with their sweet knives.
The chaos part started as soon as i boarded the aircraft to africa, when it was diverted to nigeria instead of ghana and recieving my luggage will the locks broken and the suitcase packed in a large plastic bag. But things started to change as soon i came out of accra airport to find my friendly driver samuel waiting for me, surprised to see an asian face manager instead of a Swedish. My driver full name is Kwame Samuel.

As per ghana tradition every body writes the day he is born with his name (kwame is Saturday), and so my new name now is Kuoku Salman (wednesday). :) Things i have learned so far from mydriver is: "Papa" means good, "Dada" means "boss" and "Kaisay" means big. and apart from that which lady is of which age group(something i am still struggling to guage correctly). And not the least, how to have a ghanian hanshake and how to break fufu food with 2 fingers only and eat.

Sad to see is that the globalization is playing its part here as well , with all the similar names, Cocacola, head & shoulders, guiness, toyota, showing up on signboards with just the addition of black model girls. Same roasted chicken, french fries and pizzas filling up the streets making the indeginous food harder to find.

With just few days in africa and Still living on the periphery of african society, this is what i have to say so far. Lets see how much i can enligten myself with the next few months here, but I am already becoming skeptic of the reality of things around me. Are the things and perceptions we think we stand on, really tangible realities? or are they just color shades of another tangible reality existing outside my sunglasses?. Is it possible to see reality without the sunglasses of societies & beliefs, rich poor, black white, hygenic non-hygenic, ding dong blah blah, from our eyes? I think reality for me in the end will just become only my frequent fits of feeling of self existense only assured of itself, which with the decay of time & space around me will soon be vanishing along with, leaving me as a stone with no sense of existense, as my other friends and fellows are becoming.............

Salman from Africa

The rain attack

As if summoned by the tribal witchdoctors chanting some ancient voodoo call, the majestic rain army comes down with all its pride, sounds and fury……. The big palm trees shivering in fear just by the sound of these tiny soldiers …the Commander in chief totally in control of His army…..the water-brigade totally in sync with the wind battalion and the thunder snipers ………..rivers of dead rain soldiers flowing everywhere with the same gruesome dignity fulfilling their motives of momentary life.

A big thunder strike and I found myself woke up in utter darkness, with the rain soldiers still dancing and laughing, rushing towards their own end….…..

Whatever it was….. a rain dance for the funeral celebration of a tribal chief …. or the angels of the strange land coming to pick the unnamed child who has not passed 8 days to claim his worldly name and existence…. Or just another splash of rain to keep things wet and waking us up……. the drama of life and death continues, and we in our comfortable zone of existence, undisturbed by these small whispers, sleep….enjoying our dreams of reality. Our convenient amnesia keeps dozing us into the modern lifestyle of running for money , branded food and espresso coffee shots, away from all the simple things…the clear blue sky clouded with stars….the chanting of thick rain forests…the noisy calmness of untouched beaches….eating with friendly village people who have good reasons to believe in nature’s food and time abundance.
All it takes is just for once to forget about the things we don’t understand and live with the simple ones we do….., with our desires directing our thoughts and not the other way around. Imagine a person having his tummy full out of fresh hunted meat, and not thinking about tomorrow’s food (why think when you can see plenty out their)…. Can he be compared with today’s modern civilized rich man having a lot of money and sense of ownership but with a curse of how to secure what he owns.

I think I am getting old or perhaps mad……..