Chaotic… but wouldn’t that be alright…?

Chaos

•      a condition or place of great disorder or confusion/ a state of utter confusion or disorder

What to do, what to do, what to not do when you don’t. It was a beautiful morning and my young self stubbled out of bed and joined the older birds for a breakfast walk 3000m above sea level. The skies where rolling in a deliberate fashion, an eagle gracefully gliding – its head tracing movements of nothing too small. Innate existance of  an unordinary world surrounded the untamed land and uncontructed conversation, that skipped from life to politics and anything before i was born, was all in German or maybe not. I sat, my words rumbling inside my head, beyond my eyes.

I sat across The Wife of a Man i think i knew and her smile and untimely translations brought me a reality, once in a while, of the unprecidented company i seemed to be. Next to The Wife was Tongue Chewer, a woman who was a genius at detail. Beside me on the right was the Colonial Woman with her opinions of poorly run countries and great belief of video clips and white farmers. On my left sat The Observer, the woman with a hoody on her head, her grey hair peeking out after being summoned by the blowing winds. Everything she said seemed profound, thoughtful. Next to her sat her husband, a quiet man with a warm face. The doctor. He laughed at every other sentense he said, i guess he literally cracked himself up. The doctor wrote a book on a German man who was killed by German criminals in 1912, and the dead man’s very small and saddly insignificant tombstone sat on the side of one of the hills we passed as we made our way.

“have you tried the Jam? I made it for you,” said the observer and immediately i grabbed a slice of homemade seadloaf and splattered the jam in heeps and smallowed hard. I didnt quite like it. I was the only young, african woman without grey silky hair flying in chaotic directions making a mess. Contently confused i sat, watching their wrinkled lips move in slow emphases of pensioneer talk.

The ideology behind such an intimate weekly occurance was more than refreshiing to my so called growing mind. Again i had to acknowledge the curse of the old soul. I learnt to stop and flow with the slow paced time out there in nothingness. I learnt to be disorderly. But wouldn’t that be alright…?

“One must still have chaos in one self to give birth

to a dancing star”     

                                      –  Nietzch