The pleasure in exhaustion...

So, Gujjubhai is back to Liberia. Yesyes, I was away, bi-annual leave, India, got stuck in Ethiopia, was rescued by boss.... All that. Cut a long story short, I'm back, babe! And I'm lovin' it!

Ever since I came back, I've been trying to get into some sorta exercise routine. I've tried going to the gym, only to come back after having tread the treadmill for 15 minutes and gotten glares from the instructor for coming down too hard on the 'mill. Then I've tried walking. But that's scary in the dark where I stay, and well, not too much of an exercise, eh? More like something old people do.

So, then we're back to the original exercise, the one we've been doing since we were in Goa. In fact, I learnt how to swim in Goa only. And its a blissful exercise. If I may use some Hindi here, 'Mazaa aa gaya!'. You should try it sometime.

And you know me, overzealous kid that I am, I decided to overdo it. First time in the pool after a long time. Was just subconsciously trying to make up for lost time, I guess.

So, the first few laps I felt I was going to drown. Don't know why, but just felt like I couldn't get the rhythm right. The breathing wasn't proper. I was swallowing water. Cough! Cough! Cough! All that. But then slowly, I got into the flow. Then there was no breathlessness. And hardly any breaks between laps. People came in. People went. And I kept swimming.

Then I got really, really tired. But God knows why, I just wanted to keep on swimming. '2 more laps, that's all', I'd tell myself. And I'd just keep going. Is swimming addictive, by any chance? I must look it up.

And then, I got really, really, really tired. And it was like I was swimming on autopilot. More like drifting. Ever so slowly. On the surface of the water. The hands and the legs moved on their own. It was almost like meditation. Swimming in the blue pool in the artificial yellow spotlight, it felt magical, almost surreal. There I was, floating, blissfully, arm after arm, legs gently swaying. Arm after arm, legs gently swaying. Floating, nicely, calmly, blissfully. And then...... dank! Muscle cramp! Ouch, that hurt. Right in the middle of that deep pool. What's the depth like? 9 feet? And noone around. 'Dammit!' I thought, 'I'm definitely gonna drown today! Thakur toh giyo!'

But you know me, I'm not much of a risk taker. So, I discovered that, out of sheer habit, I was swimming right next to the edge (Yes, you can call 'Sissy!' now, but I wouldn't be writing this blog, if not for this habit of mine). And so, I grabbed onto the edge and slowly slid myself into the shallow waters. Pulled myself up onto the edge of the swimming pool. And then, for what seemed like an eternity (must have been hardly 30 seconds), I sat with my legs stretched, trying to make the cramp go away. And it just wouldn't. God only knows how I've come back to the room. I'm still pretty sure I can feel remnants of that nasty cramp in my thigh.

But, all in all, it was fun. The swim. The tiredness. The peace. Hark! Even the cramp. I think I'm gonna continue swimming. Inshallah!

PS: This really hot white girl was swimming when I came in. Had a nice little chat with her. My newly acquired bald pate is quite a conversation topic, you see. She's gonna go out tonight. Hope she comes to where I'm going. :P

Accra!!

So, this Monday, we went to Ghana to get some Khana. More specifically, we went to Accra to get some Khakhra! Ok, that's a bad Gujarati joke.The Accra trip happened for some office work. And Accra turned out to to be a breath of fresh air after the drudgery of Monrovia. It feels like a big city. It behaves like a big city.

The people in Accra are gentle. They're nice and laid back. Accra Airport (Kotoka International Airport, they call it) was agog with boards saying 'Akwaba!' This means 'Welcome!' in their local language Chvi (or Chui or Chi, as some people pronounce it). Life over here is slow and relaxed. People take their own time going about their life. At the bank, a teller was patiently attending to a lady for over half an hour and the people in line (Thank God I was not in that line) were patiently waiting their turn. Without protest. Also, they have great respect for their public places in this country. For example, at the bank again, I was standing in line to pay some money, and I just whipped out my phone and started talking to an acquaintence (you know me, I get restless easily). And the people around me started giving me dirty looks. I didn't get it. Eventually the guard came up to me and asked me to hang up please. Very politely, but in a strict schoolteacherly way. It was kinda nice, how these people respect their public places. Unlike India, where it is socially acceptable, even fashionable, to whip out your phone in a public place and start speaking at the top of your voice, with everyone evesdropping on your conversation. But then, its also efficient. I mean, you could get more work done talking on the phone while standing in line or commuting.

All in all, Accra presents itself as quite a developed city (I'm going to present some photos to you shortly, which I'm sure you've skipped ahead and already gone through) with good roads and proper traffic directions. Indeed, it might be the most developed city in all of West Africa.

So, anyway, after a hard day's work, I decided to give the taxi a pass and walk back to my hotel. It was quite a revelation. Here's a few pictures of Accra I took on my phone:

Does RIM know about this? :)

Shady poster

On the streets of Accra

Such posters dot the sidewalks on Monrovia as well

Another shady poster

More Accra traffic

Glass-fronted building next to a nullah. Remind you of Mumbai?

Rush-hour. People heading back home.

Beer!

Mercedes Benz showroom (wow)

Mosa Mosa!

Every few years, some song comes along in some unknown foreign language, which you can't understand, but it just won't get out of your head. Its easy on the ears. Its catchy. And very hummable. For example: Remember this song?

Simarik. By Tarkan. The song was catchy. It was hummable. Slightly middle-eastern sounding. And the kiss sounds had their very own shock value. At least for 1997, when the song was released and I was in school. Then they took this tune and made various songs out of it. One of the more forgettable versions was this. Ok, I can't bear this whole song (although I love Urmila), I'm closing the window.

Speaking of earworms, there's this song that I've discovered recently that is really popular in Liberia, for some reason. Listen to it.

I first heard it as the caller tune of one the people I used to call frequently for work. Again. It was nice. It was hummable. Strong instrumental interludes, just like Simarik. In fact, up until yesterday, I didn't even know what language it was in. Actually, I still don't know for sure what language it is. Yesterday, at our trusty ole Sajj (remember Sajj? I posted about it here), I discovered that its a Brazilian song. The DJ just went 'There any Brazilians in the crowd?" followed by the obligatory "Yay!" from some very drunk non-Brazillians and I think, some real Brazilians. And he put that song on. Today I googled "brazil song" and, thank god for predictive text in google, the 8th option was "Mosa". I clicked on it and lo and behold. The song that I wanted. Gosh! I was feeling lucky today (wink, wink). But I haven't told you the best part yet. The star of this song is not the singer or the lyrics (which I'm told translate to borderline offensive words) but the beautiful instrumental interlude in between. Its an accordion that keeps playing in between. And its magical. Makes you feel like you're on the beach. A very easy, relaxed feeling creeps into the soul. Yes. Go back. Listen to it once more. And more.

By the way, I forgot to ask, what's your earworm these days? I'd love to hear.

Botswana wa Tsabakela

Yes. I've been trying to figure out what that phrase in Setswana means. For the unitiated, Setswana is the language of Botswana. They even have a Setswana wikipedia. But even there I couldn't find what this phrase means. Even so, from all the googling, I've at least been able to find out that 'wa' means fall or belong and 'Tsabakela' means to glisten. Which would mean 'Botswana belongs to the Glistening'? Don't know. Tell me if you know what it means. So why am I looking for the meaning of this phrase?

Well, here's why. This the opening phrase of the title track of this very nice BBC / HBO series set in Botswana that I have been watching off and on for the past few days. Its called 'The no. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency'. It is highly entertaining and lovely to watch and is inspired from a book of the same name by Alexander McCall Smith. In fact, I first read the book and then one of my Zambian colleagues told me about the series. And I must say, unlike many other disappointing attempts to make books into movies or TV serials, this one does a fine job of it. Not that they haven't tinkered with the plot and the storyline here and there. And added or deleted some characters. But then, the soul of the book stays intact in the series. Anyway, have a look at the title track. It has some very nice animation and the soulful, straight-from-the-heart voice reminds me of Usha Uthup

Doesn't it? Ok, now press the play button and close your eyes. Don't know about you, but for me the music conjures up images of giraffes peacefully feeding in grasslands. And rhinos minding their own business in the jungles (or the 'bush', as they call it here). And a simpler world where people are still righteous, forthright and honest. Not the world of today where people's morals are all different shades of grey. So, if that's what you pine for as well, this show is definitely worth a watch. On a related note, I wonder where I could get more such lovely, soulful, traditional African music. Its just beautiful. Speaks to my soul. Liberia doesn't seem to have much traditional music. Or maybe I don't know it, not having travelled much into the bush myself. But if there is, I'd love to hear it.

So, all this is part of my Africa education. O, did I mention? Last weekend, I went to have Ethiopian food. And, do you know, they actually have a huge variety of vegetarian dishes? Their food is much like the Indian roti subzi. Actually the roti is more like a dosa, in that it is fermented. But this dosa is made of some other type of brown flour. Injera, this bread is called. And they use teff flour to make it. So, anyway, there's one thing that's certain. Now that I am in Africa, I want to experience as much of it as I can. The cuisine, the music, the people. Its a whole different world. A world that is often ignored. And that is still simple and untouched, for what its worth. I've already been to 3 countries in Africa (even though two of them were just for a couple of days) and I want to see more of Africa. Amen to that!

(PS: I forgot to mention how they keep having 'bush tea' all the while in the show. I think the next food experiment shall definitely involve this bush tea. Amen to that as well!)

Monrovia - from my terrace

I'm too tired to for words. So, here goes: A few pictures, taken from our terrace. In the order that they were taken. No captions, nothing.

Connections with Strangers

Have you ever thought how really close we feel to people on the screen that we've been watching for a long time? You practically think of them as part of your family. I remember, about a year ago, during the International Film Festival of India (IFFI) in Goa (which is amazing, you must visit), Reema Lagoo had come for a movie screening. Now, come on, we all know Reema Lagoo from her countless roles as a mother in the Barjatiya movies and her role as Kokiji in Shreeman Shreemati. That's what we all grew up on. So, I looked at her and felt an instant connection. As if she's someone I meet on a daily basis (Have I begun sounding weird already? Ah heck! I don't care). And strangely, I felt like she should reciprocate. Not a rational thought, obviously. Since she didn't know me from Adam! I mean, we'd never met. But, I had met her so many times. On the screen.

Which brings me to the point of this post. We see these people on celluloid and have these connections with them. And they feel like they are part of our daily lives. But they're not. They're just part of a make-believe world. Inside our minds. And we spend hours on them. Researching them. Their families. How they are related to each other. What they looked like when they were young. All that. And now's the time I'm going to bore you with a for example.

For example (hehe), do you know that Sharman Joshi (well, I've seen him on stage before he entered Bollywood, there I go again, see what I mean?) and Ketaki Dave are cousins. And there's two lesser known siblings they have called Manasi Joshi and Purbi Joshi (of Comedy Circus and crappy Himesh Reshammiya movie fame), who are also actors. And they have other branches and tributaries of that family that are not that famous, but they're all actors. Now, that's one family of actors. There's more. Many more. Lets speak of Dina Pathak, Supriya Pathak and Ratna Pathak. All stellar performers in their own right. So, Dina (god bless her soul) is the mother of Supriya (Hansa from Khichdi, did you know she once starred opposite Hugh Grant? details here.) and Ratna (Maya Sarabhai of Sarabhai v/s. Sarabhai). And Supriya is married to Pankaj Kapur (Karamchand Jasoos of the Doordarshan days and more recently known as the father of Shahid Kapur) and Ratna is married to Naseeruddin Shah (don't you just love the purity of performance of this actor?). I could go on and on.

I could go on and on like this about movies and actors from movies who make you feel like you know them. And you want to keep finding more and more about them. But never try to meet them in person. It'll be a bit of a disappointment (refer aforementioned encounter with Reema Lagoo). That is exactly why I wouldn't want to meet Ratna Pathak or Supriya Pathak in person (you know I'm dying to meet them at the same time)

In the end, I'll leave you with this video of Supriya that I've been ODing since the last few days. Can you believe its the same girl who plays Hansa in Khichdi? (And no, its not the Masoom song)

And thus, comes to end another pointless post.

Where is the joy?

Is it me? Or are people actually irritating. I mean, I'm not a misanthrope or anything (or am I?), but then beyond a point, I just can't seem to tolerate certain people. Well, its not the people per se. But the way they behave. I mean, come on, you're out of college now. Please behave like you are civilized. Is that too much to ask from a grown up adult? Or am I just a boring old man?

Just today we were having a conversation with a certain someone on whatsapp about how we both are starved for intelligent conversation. Meaningful dialogue. I have been crying about the same thing. And I was shocked to see that the certain someone was speaking the exact same language. Well, this rant has been going on since we were in Goa. At least there we had Mr. G, B&B and the rest of the troupe (O, I shouldn't forget good Doctor, who's adorable, but in his own little world, which is also adorable). Over here, there's nothing. Nobody. Zilch. Zero. Shunya. And the other night. We took AJ to Nerd Nite. There was a lot of potential to connect to intelligence there, right? But then we didn't even strike a single conversation with the so-called intelligentsia. Why? Diffidence? The fear of rejection? Or am I just too proud to approach someone. I mean, come, I am soooooooooo intelligent. Shouldn't it just flow from my visage and shouldn't people just gravitate to me? Wasn't that how it was supposed to play out? Oh sorry, I think that was a dream.

So, another meaningless rant today, born out of the frustration that we are going through. There aren't any outlets. There isn't any joy. I mean, I could've talked about the helicopter ride that we went for. Or the other nice stuff that we have been doing. Like attending weird American documentary event with free popcorn at Ushahidi / ilab or attending Nerd Nite at the Boulevard Cafe. But no, this post isn't for them. Its just a paean to the frustration that we so love to love.

Golden Beach Cafe / Salsa night at Saaj

So, incorrigible as we are, we've been going out for dinner for the last two days. Two new places in the last two days. Sajj on Friday (for Salsa night) and Golden Beach Cafe yesterday. 'Twas fun!

Of Sajj we again heard of from our trusty Liberia expat google group. Its a Lebanese place and they had Salsa night on Friday. Well, tell you the truth, I'm not much of a dancer, but then, one's gotta have fun. So, I forwarded the invite to one of the young new guys in office, and then two more people joined in. And before I knew it, the 4 of us were in Sajj. It was nice. Good hummus and babaganoush with yum pita bread. And the pizza's not bad either. They even have club beer on tap! Oh and they had Salsa night, which basically constituted a very talented dance instructor type fella demonstrating the moves and some not-so-talented trying their best to keep up. One of the guys from our group even joined in for it. All in all, it was a great Friday night out! Didn't take any pictures though. I should have, no?

And yesterday, we'd gone for a walk (or a Wakabo, as they call it in Liberian English) with our trusty friend and colleage N. And instead of the usual walk along Payne Avenue in Sinkor, we found ourselves walking along the beach. And before we knew it, we'd decided to walk all the way up to the Golden Beach cafe (it had actually something to do with the fact that N hadn't joined us at Sajj the night before, and wanted to go out. And well, you know me, I could go out for dinner at the drop of a hat). So, we were just in time for the sunset. Photo dekho:



At the Golden Beach Cafe, Monrovia


Ok, don't grimace. That's the best photo quality I can get on a Blackberry. So, that's the Golden Beach cafe at sunset. Right on the Atlantic Ocean. The waves on this beach are, well, huge. Violent, if I can exaggerate a bit. Oh and the food here is okok. They do a decent Veg. Samosa and the Veg. Pizza wasn't bad either (Green Peas was one of the toppings, by the way). So, we ended Saturday by the beach with samosas and pizza (accompanied by a bit of Savannah). It was fun! Better than sitting at the compound watching Blood Diamond. That too in Hindi. Yes, LOL! Exactly my thoughts right now.

So, all in all, we're working hard and enjoying ourselves on weekends. We told you we'd go out. The cocoon is slowly unravelling, readers! Behold!

PS: I've changed the background picture. Would love to hear your thoughts on it!

"You can’t come here with European eyes"

Yes, readers, that title is borrowed from a very interesting article that was shared on the Liberia expats forum by someone today (read it here). Not so much of an article as an open letter, it is addressed to one Mr. John Humphreys, who apparently is a BBC reporter of much repute (read about him here). So, anyway, this letter, which is pretty forthright, calls Mr. Humphreys's bluff. It asks him to stop milking Africa for its sob stories. It asks him to look beyond. It asks him to look at Africa Rising (does that ring a bell, Indian readers? Heard of India Shining?). Yes of course, Africa does have its famines, starving children, illiteracy, coups; but then its also achieved a lot, and let me quote the letter, "(Africa has) been growing at rates we in the West can only dream about".

Much like India of not so long ago. The letter, you see, talks about two Africas, the "old" Africa and the "new" Africa. Reminds me of "India" and "Bharat". To the uninitiated, we still talk about two Indias back home. There's 'India', which is developed, with the shopping malls, mobile phones and what-have-you and there's 'Bharat' (the traditional word for our nation), which is the India of the farmer suicides, dowry deaths and the female infanticides. Wasn't long ago that India was reported about by the West only for the 'Bharat' now, was it? Why, we're still referred to as the land of the snake charmers in some quarters, aren't we?

The author of the letter, one Mr. Richard Dowden, he's not even from Africa. And yet, he calls upon Humphreys and those others of his ilk to report Africa as it is, not just the "new" Africa or the "old" Africa but the real Africa, whichever one of the two presents itelf. He beautifully sums it up in his appeal to Humphreys and BBC in general. Let me quote the letter again, "Help our government – and your bosses – to understand that £1 spent on a good BBC World Service does more for development in Africa than £100 spent on aid." Which is quite true, because, well, all I knew of Africa before I came here a few months ago was through watching BBC, CNN and other such reportage of the continent. Point to ponder, eh?

So, good luck and godspeed to you, Mr. Dowden! Its only a matter of time before Africa goes the India way. After all, there isn't any place else in the world that's left to develop now, is there?

Inertia

Incredible inertia. That's what is happening to me these days. What is it, I wonder? Is it laziness? Boredom? Am I just not excited enough? What is it? I really can't seem to figure out. Whatever it is, I really gotta shake it off. I really want to make Liberia happen for me.

O, and in case you were wondering, I didn't go to the TED video thing on Wednesday. And I also did not go to the mapping party yesterday. Why am I doing this to myself? If there is enough entertainment / amusement / excitement around, why am I not accessing it? Is it the guilt of not having accomplished enough that is making me deprive myself? Or is it the deprivation that is making this inertia happen?

Could think of that one till the cows come home.... :)

Iss Sheher mein....

I listen to 'sheher mein, hun main tere', the song from Rockstar, as I sit at my laptop and contemplate (nay, fantasize) about going to tomorrow's TED talks session at Ushahidi. The child in me says I'll meet interesting people. I'll make lasting friendships. I'll finally meet some nice people here. But the adult in me knows, I might not even go for it. I'll let you know how it goes. I must get out of this compound. Its getting suffocating. The same people everyday. Night and Day. You live with them. You work with them. This is what happens when work and home are in the same building, nay, on the same floor.

So, well, my first post in a long time. First post from Liberia, from Africa. And I don't have anything interesting to report.

Kenyan Giraffe

Or, do I? Actually, yes. Upar dekho. Thanks to Kenya Airways, who decided to take off from Mumbai 3 hours late, I missed my flight onward to Monrovia. And had to spend 2 days in Nairobi. And it is there that I got to go to the Nairobi national park. And we saw giraffes, zebras, wildebeests and lots of other animals. Pity we didn't have a good camera. the E72 served its purpose though. Not bad, that photo above, is it?

But since then? Nothing interesting to report. We've just been vegetating intellectually. Not that we haven't been doing anything at all. Work-wise, life has been busy. But aside from work, there's hardly anything we have done this last 1 month plus that we have been in Liberia. Its high time we do something. Kuch kiya jaaye, kya boltaay?