Moon gazing.

My lovely friends and visitors trekking through, 

Ever been moon gazing?

No, I don't mean like Moon Gazer, the mythical creature tall like two coconut trees, who straddle the road on a full moon night, staring at the moon, and when you pass between he legs, he squeeze the living life outta you.

I mean regular height human-you, going outside on a full moon night, and letting the moonlight bathe you, and you stare at the moon until delight is the riddim of you' heart beat.

(Come to think of it, maybe that is what does happen to Moon Gazer...he does get so ecstatic when he see the moon, that when you pass between he legs straddling the road, he squeeze you because he can't contain he happiness. Something like me first nephew when he been about two or three years old. He used to get so full o' gladness when he see people he love, he would bite them.)

Anyway, back to moongazing. A friend tell me how foreigners in Guyana does sit at the back of a cane field on a full moon night just to watch the full moon rising.

So...

...put moongazing on the list of things that I incorporate into me life to make me feel good.

I would go out on we road near the neem tree (that I manage to save from the teef...thief...but that is another story for another day), and I would stare at the moon. I would feel a mighty longing to release a howl of pure joy. The only reason I never bother to howl was because o' them security guards who was manning the properties of Important Neighbours. They mighta call the Berbice Mad House staff to come for me.

They probably already thought I was mad and they only been waiting for the chance to send me away.

According to them, based on what me friend, married to a diplomat tell me, ladies in fine neighbourhood don't sweep yards like me and she. 

I sweep the yard.

I pick fruit and eat straight from the tree.

I hop up on the garden wall and let the sea breeze wild-up me hair.

I weed, plant, grow worms (they had names), stand on the road on a Sunday morning in the sunlight and salt breeze.

I sew.

I listen to music and sing.

I dance.

And I accept invitations from friends.

I tune into nature, I listen and feel and I let nature soothe me.

That, me dear friends, is what I got to do again in this here foreign land. I got to tune into nature fully, every day, and work on me list of things that I do to feel good.

I going for a Sunday afternoon walk. Remind me to share the photos with you, okay? Have a wonderful week. Plenty love, neena.

Chanelling Ms. Pollyanna.

Dear Friends,

Maaan, that sure was a mighty monster of a pothole that I fall into in this here foreign land recently. Oh me Lawd-oh Gawd-oh.

In there, I see ning-ning...you know, terrible troubles. It was murky and glumpy down dey. But good thing...it had a li'l bit o' water. I shine some light, and was able to see me self in the reflection. I wasn't too keen on what I see. 

Frien'-o, if you see how I defy graffity and fly out mo' fast than salipenter runnin' on the surface of Abary Creek.

Outside, I stop to breathe in slow, breathe out slow. I ketch me senses. And I remember...

...that time when I return home to Guyana for good, how lonely and miserable I been. Then I remember how I decide to start liking where me was, instead o' looking for what I miss about The Island that I remigrate from. 

I make up me mind. I gon channel some o' Pollyanna attitude. Now, I know many out there think that she is unreasonably optimistic. I wasn't planning to be like that. I was only going to take some o' she vibes and work it into me lifestyle.

I begin to do a set o' things that make me feel I was in a good place.

So here me is, in this here foreign land, being carer for Ma, remembering all the things I do back home to recover from falling into potholes.

I gon make that list and share with you soon.

Cheerio for now. Do something nice for you today. Plenty love, neena.

P.S. If you want a li'l peek into what I write about returning home...check it out here:

Singin' n walin' n laughin' n eatin'.

Relearning.

 My dearest friends, all who visit here, all who read silently and tiptoe away,

Recently, I been dealing with a big heartache. Because o' that, I had to dig deep down in me to figure out what been causing problems in me soul. I didn't have to go too far. Instinct, and joining the dots, been telling me what I need to know. Telling me why I been so scratchety...cross. 

I got to forgive meself plenty.

I got to stop fussing about, sit down in silence, write in me notebook, pin down thoughts and insights, to learn again, how to be me true self again.

Li'l bit, I reach out to friends and they help me to clear the clutter. 

I learning again, relearning again.

I read somewhere: there are no mistakes, there are only lessons, and the lessons are repeated until they're learnt. I like to think I does learn fast-fast.

Anyway, I been writing on me newsletter too, the one at neenamaiya.substack.com.

This is what I write. I hope you like. xxx

Happiness in a place of nothingness.

April 3.22.

3 8

Howdy, as Auntie M., my mother’s cousin would say. Howdy! Life good? (Hope you don’t mind if I drop in a li’l bit of local lingua now and then. I will email you my thoughts about this local dialect another day.)

Question: how do you find your happy self in a situation that’s breaking your heart?

After I returned home, I eventually found a way, though I must confess, it wasn’t without some struggle. 

The journey home was Hawrrible. I shamed myself. On the plane, I was sitting next to the most handsome cricketer from the English team. (No, I ain’t naming names). He tried to chat with me. Stupidee me start bawling like I been planning to be de next big waterfall of Guyana. 

My father had died a few months ago, and I was going back home because my mother would be alone. All our family -  siblings, cousins, aunties , uncles, had migrated to the lands of hope and glory, maple syrup, deer and antelope. I felt as though I were rewinding my life. 

Scenes flashed by in my mind as the plane flew away from the jewel of the Caribbean, bye-bye blue ocean, beaches, cafés, breathtaking views from restaurants on cool, mist-draped mountainsides, friends, a job in the creative field. 

Hello broke-up, mash-up, peel-up country, the second poorest in the Caribbean. I’ve heard it was The Poorest at one time. 

I was returning just after elections. The second election after almost 30 years of no democracy. Over the phone, my mother had told me what to expect. Political turmoil, burning, looting. I was terrified of the drive home from the airport. It was a long, dark, lonely drive. Every type of “what if” spiraled within me. 

Yet, I learned to love home again. 

Years later, a Nigerian medical student in Guyana told me that the first time she scouted around town, she thought a disaster had hit the nation and the people were just recovering. I laughed. As I’ve said, my conversation with her was years later; by then I had discovered many delights. 

Lawd. What did it say about me, learning to find joy in a place like this? Did it mean that I had learnt to settle for less? That apathy had sunk her claws in me; that achievement was for those who had gone to green pastures?

Ooops. 

I smell lunch burning, I’d better go have a look. I will email again another Sunday. Remember, you’ll hear from me every other Sunday.

Mean time, tell me, nah? How do you find a way to be happy in a place that offers nothing?

See you soon, plenty love, neena maiya.