They ask me how I know…

Screen Shot 2014-08-18 at 9.30.57 PMComing from a woman who is two weeks away from being married, it may come as a surprise that I’m thinking a lot about my exes, i.e. ex-boyfriends, ex-friends, ex-“dudes I used to mess with.” I always teased my fiancé that no matter how many skeletons I had in my closet, there’d never be a need to think twice about where the bodies were buried. Trust, they were always a continent or two away! But as the wedding approaches, I can’t help but laugh at the irony of the exes who have cropped back up, who have asked to come to the wedding, who are going to be in the country, who might be around after the honeymoon, who we’ll probably hang out with more than once, and who I never – in a million years – thought I’d welcome as friends into the ‘happily ever after’ phase of my life.

Really, this isn’t about them so much as it is about me. The woman who entertained them then isn’t the same woman who appreciates them now. I expected to carry animosities forever. I expected to be embarrassed by the idea of my husband meeting living reminders of experiences I haven’t always been that proud of. Yet, the years and experiences that lay in between have shown me that now I must be smarter, must be more practical, and must be in love!

I actually asked my fiancé if more than one skeleton could walk his way into our wedding party and break bread at our – very exclusive – celebration. And what’s more shocking than the fact that I even parted my lips to ask, is that he actually said “Yea, whatever.” That may not seem like much. But for a guy who actually doesn’t like guys that much, this is about the best I could have hoped for. And for a guy who I still torture to this day about how many “popcorn hoes” he exposed me to in the beginning of our courting, this is big. Moreover, for a girl who took a very long time to find her way into a mutually supportive, trusting, and communicative relationship, this is huge for me.

For some, thoughts of an ex bring the wedding jitters. For me, thoughts of an ex (or two… or three…) make me more and more excited about being a wife to the man I chose and who chose me.  All I can say is thanks to all the dudes of yesteryear and good luck in this lifetime. For those who I’ll see soon, my interest in their lives is genuine. It’s lovely to know that we’ve grown up in parallel, if not together. And for those who I’ll never see again, I wish them neither ill will nor well wishes. If this relationship has taught me nothing else it’s to save all my energies, positive and negative, for the present. Being here, fully here, has made all the difference.

I’ve heard it said that some people are only with you for a phase. I’m not exactly sure what it means when people pop up in random phases and happen to be in Africa when you least expect it, but I’d like to think that it means that friendships evolve with time, I can’t trust my 18-year-old self for my entire lifetime, and I’m ready for this next phase of life, called forever ever!

 

Cult Movie Classics

I am not what you might call a “movie person.” The thought of a theatre experience reminds me of paying goo gobs of cash to sit in a cushy seat probably infested with bodily fluids from strangers. Needless to say, I’m not often moved by the images on the big screen, unless there are a lot of things blowing up. Yet Netflix has been my homeboy for some years now, shipping cult classics and obscure foreign titles to wherever in the world I may be. In honor of the 28 year anniversary of one of my absolute faves, “She’s Gotta Have It,” here’s my top ten list of must-see movies that you probably haven’t seen (or at least not in a long time):

1.

Gomorrah is a 2008 film from Italy, based on a Robert Saviano book. This is not your typical mafia movie. In every form and fashion, it’s better.  It weaves five individual stories of people trying to make their own connections with the Casalesi clan, a crime syndicate within the Camorra.

2.  Borders Frontieres is a 2002 film from France/ Algeria that focuses on African clandestine immigration to southern Europe. Comedic and tragic, the film charts the journey of seven people traveling from Senegal through Algeria and onward to Spain.

3. Woody Allen’s 1977 classic Annie Hall is the pre and post-mortem tale of a relationship between two seemingly incompatible people, who once fell in love. It’s romantic and whimsical, and also shows scenes of back when NYC was gritty.

images-44. First of all, “Dilwale Dulhania le Jeyenge” stars my absolute fave Bollywood actress, Kajol and, second, it involves a young woman traveling on her own. What’s not to love (maybe SRK’s hair cut)?

This is the story of two kids who, against their own wishes, fall in love while taking the Eurorail. Both are non-resident Indians, raised in Britain, and both are struggling to meet their parents’ expectations for adulthood. But, when the first meet, neither knows this about the other… and hence, the comedic elements of this 1995 romantic comedy.

5.

In the 2003 drama, 21 Grams, an accident brings together three people who couldn’t be more unrelated or disconnected. The words love, faith, guilt and revenge all crop up, a lot. The movie stars Benicio del Torro, Naomi Watts and Sean Penn, and is directed by the Mexico City native Alejandro González Iñárritu.

6. Mexico’s 2008 Sleep Dealer has to be one of the most engaging sci-fi movies I’ve ever seen. (Sci-fi is not my genre of choice.) The plot is not as blatantly transparent in its allusion to specific political events as South Africa’s District 9, but it definitely made me think – how far away are we from this being a reality? The long and short of it is that technology has developed such that people’s bodies can be in one place and through the use of a physical attachment, they can use robotics to operate machinery and perform tasks that are actually located in another place. The dynamics of immigration being the same, this dynamic interestingly means that there is migrant work with no workers, but at what cost?

7.

Leon is probably one of the most gangster movies I’ve ever watched and enjoyed. A hitman teams up with a little girl, and they start whooping ass! Natalie Portman + Jean Reno / circa 1994 = You’ll have to just watch it.

8. Alfred Hitchcock’s The Man Who Knew Too Much, made me appreciate that Hitchcock isn’t only about scare and gore. In this mid-century tale, an American family travel to Morocco, only to get caught up in a murder mystery, an assassination attempt, and a kidnapping. There’s drama and travel, mixed in with politics and music. Apparently there are two versions of the film, from 1934 and 1956, and I don’t remember which version I saw.  So, have your pick!

9. Dirty Pretty Things is based in modern-day UK, and tells the story of a clandestine African immigrant who is a trained doctor by profession and a Turkish woman whose visa to the UK allows her to stay, but not work. Both are tied by mutual interest and genuine affection, and they are only brought closer together when Senay considers harvesting an organ on the black market in order to get a fake passport to travel to the U.S.A.

10.

The Gods Must be Crazy is to South Africa what Coming to America is to the United States. Released in 1980, it is said to be the most commercially successful film from South Africa (but maybe that’s changed since the release of District 9). The movie is set in the desert of Botswana, where Xi, a Sho of the Kalahari Desert (played by Namibian San farmer Nǃxau) lives with his tribesmen. None of them are conscious of the world outside of or different from the desert they know, until Xi stumbles upon a Coca Cola bottle.

Out of curiosity, how many of you have actually seen any of these?

 

5 things people never told me about Maputo…

Teardrop, Matola, Mozambique (2014)When people talk about Mozambique, they often say positive things like “The people are really friendly,” and “The seafood is really great.” Both are true, but they only take you so far. When you stick around for longer than a holiday weekend, reality starts to set in and this ole’ girl called Maputo starts to show her crow’s feet. She’s not an impressive city in comparison to neighboring Joburg, but she has charm and class. And the people are friendly, but with a healthy dose of sass and wit. Let’s just say that there are a lot of things I had to discover on my own. Here are the top 5 things that nobody ever told me about Maputo:

10402678_10101267023870802_5432848354976959553_n5- The seafood is good, but it gets boring. Most Mozambican meals boast 4 main ingredients: oil, onion, tomato and salt. Put it on meat. Put it on fish. Marinate it all day. It’s going to taste like a slight variation on the same thing every time. And most of the vegetable sides are potato, chima, and/or salad with white lettuce. I love the flavors (even when they are doused in MSG powder), but after having such culinary variety in the U.S. and India my tongue is bored.

4- Mozambican women are BAD! So…I’m not sure if I’m allowed to say this and not get my “heterosexual card” pulled, but really these women are effortlessly pretty. They are all well proportioned. Most work out actively. They have kids and still look good in bathing suits. They actually have lovely skin and awesome cheekbones. And, well, it’s all-natural (ish). People don’t believe in the botox or the injections, though they do have an affinity for new weaves/wigs every weekend. But what’s a little fake hair when your butt is real? Fair trade.

3- Nobody actually gets in the water. The drive along the Marginal every day really reminds why the hell I put myself through the torture of 9 hour workdays. But, nobody tells you that you can’t actually get in the water. It’s just decoration. It contains lots of gross matter that no one should have on their bodies, because it only recently came out of someone else’s body. The Indian Ocean looks so tempting you just might be tricked into wanting to dip a toe in on a romantic stroll on a hot summer’s day, but that would be a fool’s errand. Look, but don’t touch!

2-Maputo is everywhere you want to be. The city is only a three-hour drive to Swaziland and South Africa. Sure the roads are kinda unmarked and poorly lit, but those are no match for people with an adventurous spirit in need of widely spoken English interaction and South African supermarket products. I always thought it was the scarcity of consumer goods that drove people over the border, but it’s more than that. The grass isn’t always greener, but it’s definitely more orderly. And South African magazines like Bona and True Love are my new favorite addiction.

 

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1-Mozambicans are the biggest haters on earth. This is a real photo, from a real wall, on a real street in Maputo. No lie! I have never in my life met people who celebrate with suspicion, instinctively. Tell someone that you graduated from college or that you got a new job! It is not met with unfettered happiness and congratulations. It is met with a slow and deliberate questioning of just how you did it. Somebody must have helped you. You could have paid somebody a bribe. The very last thing that will come to people’s minds is that they should be happy for and with you. Actually, it’s as if most people don’t even think ‘positivity’ is an acceptable reaction. I chalk it up to the country’s socialist history, where having more than the next person made you the brunt of suspicion, not the example of accomplishment. The sentiment lingers on well into the present and today I wouldn’t call it socialism. I just call it hate.

Well, you’ll have to come and see for yourself all the good and bad things Maputo has in store, including the exclusive beaches and resorts throughout the rest of the country. There you can get in the water and the women are still drop dead gorgeous. It hasn’t been determined if the hater quotient is still a national phenomenon or a localized epidemic. Be suspicious ya’ll, be very suspicious.

I feel old: 30 is definitely NOT the new 20

I’ll cut straight to the chase here. These days, I’m feeling as old as Methuselah, old as molasses, and as old as dirt. For instance, I originally thought I’d type this on my IPad, but even that feels like a “young” thing to do. So, it’s back to the ole’ laptop for me (which is the 80’s baby version of this New Orleans antique Underwood right cheah). For your reading pleasure, here’s my “Reasons I know I’m old” short list for the sharing…

...How I feel lately on Facebook.

…How I feel lately on Facebook.

5 – All my friends are procreating. I’d have to count on two hands how many people I know are with child, in a family way, or have a pea in the pod at this very moment. None of them are underage or being kicked out of their parents’ houses for bringing in another mouth to feed. You know what that means? It means that we’re getting old, old enough to have children of our own. And everybody knows that the scariest people on earth are children. So, I know I must be getting old when I’m excited for my pregnant friends and not silently mumbling, “Now our clubbing days are over!”

Evolution of Mom Dancing

Evolution of Mom Dancing

4- I have to plan to go clubbing. Gone are the days when I could just start the day at work, end the day sweaty in skimpy clothes, and start the next day 3 hours later with a shower, black coffee, and a change of clothes I left at my desk. I not only don’t have the stamina, but I lack the interest. For me to go clubbing requires advance notice and a nap! My work days are longer.  My skimpy clothes aren’t that skimpy anymore (I can’t bring myself to shop at H&M with the same level of frequency anymore). And drinking black coffee stains my teeth. See, that’s even an old thing to say. Stained teeth… Sigh. Anyways, I need at least 24 hours notice of said clubbing plan, but 48-72 hours is always appreciated. Or else one of two things is likely to happen: 1) I’ll show up at the club wearing my frumpy work clothes OR 2) my pre-club power nap quickly transforms into my full night’s sleep. Speaking of which…

Photo on 4-6-13 at 11.47 PM #23- Sleep is my friend. I’ve always loved sleep, but I’ve never NEEDED sleep quite like I need it now. Sleep is not just a pastime. It is a priority. In college, I could manage to work through the night, nap from 4am to 6am, and make it through the whole day til 6pm. My voice sounded like I’d become a chain smoking, 50 year old man, but I was up and alive! Now, I’m dead. Very, very dead. Even when I have 5 hours of sleep, I look like a chain smoking, 50 year old man. It’s really a shame, but now I’ve got at least 7 hours on my calendar that can’t be interrupted or else there are grave consequences.

2- I don’t have Instagram, because I don’t want people to think I’m young. Yea, I said it. I think it’s ok to NOT have a profile on every social media outlet out there. I say no to drugs and no to Instagram, LinkedIn, Orkut, and Candy Crush. A lady must have limits. You see, I am from that first Facebook generation. I believe in Facebook. I can’t go a day without checking it. I’ve had Skype so long that my account still charges in British Pounds, because when I first got it Skype was still primarily Europe based. But, I didn’t get on Twitter til last year. I have a LinkedIn account that I check once a year and still shows me working at a job I left 5 years ago. Ehh… I’m a choosy (social media) lover … what can I say?

1- I feel old as hell! I go for a run and I feel it in my lower back – for days. If I don’t sleep I feel it – for days. If I don’t eat well I feel it – for days. I mean, really, is there anything I don’t feel these days -for days? My energy level, my pain threshold, my metabolism, and my interest in people have all shifted in the last year. I could attribute it to my constant moving, or changes at work, or… well anything other than being old… but the reality is I feel old. Feeling is being. So, there you have it…

Speechless

Sphinx in ParisI’ve been at a loss for words of my own since I came to Mozambique 8 weeks ago. What started off as a career journey, much like others before it, has turned into a much more enigmatic scene. I’m on an assignment that makes me sometimes wonder why I chose this career – sometimes that’s a good thing and sometimes it’s a bad thing. I’m struggling to make sense of the things around me, but they are not innately problematic. I just don’t understand everything that’s going on. But, I’m not the type to need to know everything, generally speaking. So, there are superficialities I’ve come to tolerate and others that raise questions I don’t have time to find answers to. Another thing I tolerate.

I’ve been in pursuit of stability, but it continues to allude me. It’s taken two months to finalize an application for a PhD program across the border. It’s taken two months to realize that my house is always going to be half complete, because I’m always in the process of packing or unpacking. I considered staying here for three years, rather than two, but many things have made me doubt that I should. I’m struggling to get to know my in-laws and at times I struggle with whether or not I should try. I’m planning a three-part wedding on two continents, all while battling a sea of people that very openly question my relationship. I’m drowning in demands at precisely the time in my life when I had hoped I could coast. And that, my friends, has given me few words to pen.

Instead I’ve called home to a sorority of sisters who have never failed to listen to my tales. While Charlie, Juanita, Leo, Elyse, Alyson and Melissa have suffered through my litany of complaints, I’ve been holding back from you. I blame myself for being too much the Capricorn, seeking perfection where it’s not necessary, making ‘appropriate’ the enemy of ‘happy,’ being demanding to a fault, and having standards for myself that far exceed realistic expectations for one life time. I’ve bored these girls to bits with the agony of things that aren’t perfect, but are absolutely fine for normal people. And I’m tired of my own stories. So, shoot me.

Some people would call this stage burn out. You know the moment right before you give the hell up. I call it being speechless. That said, you may see an awful lot of photos and videos on this blog over the coming weeks. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.  I very much haven’t. I’m just trying to be in the moment, be present, be here – in Mozambique – and figure out what exactly that means.  For now, please forgive me while I follow my good friend Miller’s advice to make like this sphinx and “go sit down somewhere.”