What's in a name?

My nephew's first name is Sir Garnet. A black African boy born to Ghanaian parents living in Ghana, West Africa. Why?

My grandmother's grandfather, Chief Kweku Andoh was one of the few educated elders in Elmina during the 1800s. He was the Chief of Elmina's foremost advisor at the time the British took over the then Gold Coast colony from the Dutch. On the Chief's expulsion from the country by the British, Chief Andoh was appointed regent in his place. He became firm friends with the British, whom he believed were more trustworthy than the Dutch, and became a lieutenant in the army. He developed a  friendship with Sir Garnet Wolseley, British governor in the Gold Coast, and major troubleshooter for the British empire.

 It is to our endless mortification, that my great, great grandfather joined Wolseley in his punitive expedition against the great empire of Ashanti. It was on this expedition that news arrived of his son's birth. Wolseley, grateful for the support of Chief Andoh, requested that his newborn son be named after him. Chief Andoh was happy to comply. Since traditionally names are passed down from father to son, the name 'Sir Garnet' has remained in my family to this day.

Strangely, our present day 'Sir Gee' as we call him, is as militant as they come....starkly different from his significantly more amenable siblings. What's in a name, I say?

Plodding Along

Gosh, sometimes it is so hard to find inspiration to write. To be honest, I am totally struggling to keep this going, but I will persevere...(I think.) Somedays I'm on fire, and many others.....nothing. I have attempted two posts which I discarded. This is the third. Maybe I shouldn't be thinking so hard. My initial ideas are always personal...a little too personal and abstract to post here. Like I say to my friends, I very much prefer to write for my eyes only, so this is a real challenge!

I will plod along, however. I'm just thankful that even this is good enough!

As Without, So Within

On a whim, I stepped out of my hot kitchen into the balmy night for some air. It isn't something I usually do, and as I wondered why, the response came right on the tail of the thought...mosquitoes.
What a shame. There's so much I've missed.

I stared at my house, taking in the familiar yet strangely alien view enveloped in darkness. The soft glow of indoor lights, shadows playing peekaboo...here one minute, gone the next. In the darkness,  my garden looks larger, older, wiser. I sit there for a while taking in the cricket calls, the whispering leaves and the tiny darting insects flirting with the glowing lamp. I tried to shut my noisy mind down and open my soul up to feel like they do, wondering about the people that dwell within the walls. After a while, we all blend in beautifully. There really is no separateness. As without, so within.

Rejuvenated, I wandered back into my hot kitchen.

Being, not Doing

Today has been quiet. A gem of a day. I’ve had myself and my thoughts only because I had no power for several hours on account of a fault on the main line. So no music, no TV, no laptop and phone (which I did not charge overnight) and horror of horrors; no internet service! So what did I do today, the first day of our spring break? I read; and dozed; and cooked, and baked and stared at lizards and the blue sky. I listened to twittering birds, counted 100 breaths and daydreamed. 

Best of all, I did all of this with my fourteen year old son who had no idea what to do with himself. The daydreaming part was hilarious because he kept asking what I was doing, and I told him to just stare with me. I told him we had to learn how to just ‘be’. He thought I’d lost my mind.

All in all, we had a magical day of not really doing anything.

Common Destiny

Sitting in the waiting room at the oncology clinic with my mother always leaves me marveling at human nature.
Sick people suffering with dignity. Some in wheelchairs, walking sticks, leaning on others or trying hard to walk on their own.

Busy and not so busy helpers. Some sad looking, others distracted; yet others carrying on like everything is normal, or trying hard to pretend that wheeling a loved one at the oncology clinic is like walking down the aisle in a grocery store. Some are downright detached...like the young lady who sat right behind me. She had disappeared into her phone, while her old lady sitting on the bench next to me moaned and wept softly.
"Are you in pain, ma'am? Can I get you something?" I asked. I noticed she had called the nurse a little earlier to ask when it would be her turn to see the doctor...Those nurses.

Receptionist nurse. Busy hands. Dolled up, apologetic, warm manner.
Cashier nurse. Encased in a wood-paneled booth with a gaping opening like a mouth, out of which her hand shoots to take the money. "If you don't have enough money, you can't see the doctor!"  Unbelievably emotionless.
Vitals Nurse. Drill sergeant spitting out names of patients, forgetting it takes them a lot longer to lift themselves and all the energy they can muster to respond. I glared at her and held up my hand to stop her from calling out my mother's name for the 4th time. Really?

So I walk up to drill sergeant and ask her when the weeping lady will be seen to. "Her folder is the next one, we will call her soon." I go back and reassure the lady, wondering aloud why she is on her own.
"My daughter is behind you", she responds. I prod the young woman who lifts herself hurriedly and goes to tend to her mother. She hands her a bottle of water but doesn't soothe or touch her. The lady calms down and I turn around thinking....she wept harder when I spoke to her with compassion and showed I cared. Her daughter pretty much ignores her distress, and her tears dry up. Isn't that something?
My heart aches for sick people. hopeful one minute. hopeless the next.
But then we forget we share a common destiny.

Death's ladder is climbed by all.

Poverty in Riches

In conversation with a friend, I discovered again the truth of the paradox of poverty in richness....and vice versa.
We recalled the bad behavior of a family member; a bully of a man who expects to be treated with deference by the people closest to him. He is a man of some means, and loves to show it off by spreading it around; but be warned; accepting his largesse comes at a cost, as hewhomustbeobeyed will tolerate nothing but your groveling affirmations and undying fealty. He does not realize that his obsession with such unhealthy loyalty reveals the extent of his insecurity.

Curiously,  even this sad soul has a side to him that I don't think he realizes. Given the nature of his business, he goes through times when his money dwindles, and it is at times like these that his nasty side takes a back seat to a sweetness you'd never believe he possesses. He spends more time with his family, laughs a lot more, is kind to his wife and is generally just a much nicer person to be with.

Clearly, his riches aren't riches at all; yet without it to lose, would his beautiful side have a chance to be expressed? He reminds me of why I love my country Ghana. In the midst of abject poverty, people can show a generosity that is a rare commodity among so-called wealthy people.

No wonder our wise elders had a proverb which they named after a beautiful wax print design..."Asetena pa ma awirefi' (Good living breeds forgetfulness).

Treasure!

I've been waiting for the slice of life challenge to come by again...surprisingly, considering that I was on the verge of quitting when I began last year. Somehow through the stress and angst and pressure of having to churn out piece after piece, day after day, I found a beautiful treasure...and it was myself!

I look forward to wringing water out of stone, finding beauty in plainness, digging deep and finding gold...in other words, finding me again.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

Name of wax print -
I dug the earth and found treasure