I have been out in the wilderness for the past few weeks and for this I apologise. It seems I have become too blasé in my navigation of my own private world and have forgotten to take note of the signposts, always rickety wooden affairs with huge nail heads visible and winds blowing at the splinters surrounding the hand carved and painted directions. I have wandered from the true path in the Writers World and entered the Blogging Wilderness.
Alone, frustrated and angry I had tried to cheat the rules of the Writers World, ignoring the windswept, dusty terrain, running my fingers nonchalantly through my ever dusty hair giving an inward snicker of contempt accompanied by that “oh so Gill” shrug of the shoulders and simply walking away. If the terrain before me wanted to obscure the many topics of blog posts by the dusts of frustration, if inspiration of the first words chose to remain locked in the dust devils swirling round and round ever faster and elusive to my reach, if the world of my making was really going to throw a hissy fit right now, right in the middle of so much external inspiration in the mind of my alter ego Teacher Gilly, that it felt like it was going to explode. Well hey ho, give me a break soldier, who cares padre, a gal’s gotta do what a gal’s gotta do! I simply locked up those gates and walked away, tough tittie (or is it titty?) as my good friend and business compatriot Diego once announced in his beautiful dulcet Spanish voice to a room full of serious business men. Your loss amigo, I’m busy walking the walk, you wanna make writing the talk difficult well hey, go ahead see if I care. I got bigger fish to fry I gotta book on the go. Hear that winds of word blindness, dusts of frustration? Go ahead wreak your worst because I don’t have time for this sh**, I’ve got serious work to do.
And so my friends in 338 words and counting, when just a few would do, I am here today to say sorry!
For those of you who crave the insight into a world of volunteering that you have been a part of in the past or those that will never be able to do more than experience such adventures through my dusty words I apologise and can offer no more than a snippet into my life. My frustration as I realise that my 2 years and 1 month (as of today) in this wonderful land has done little more than push the door of understanding slightly ajar. These wonderful people and the simple yet glorious lives they lead are still, and always will be, an enigma to me the outsider. The past few weeks has seen my frustration – o – meter (pronounce like ther – mom –eter) and think of quiz shows when the scores are recorded on some hideous device, go through the roof as I learn of a 12 or 13 year old kid found sleeping in the classrooms of his government primary school because his guardian (stand in mum, aunt or neighbour or good Samaritan or fourth or fifth wife… sorry the frustration took hold) kicked him out of the house and told him they had done enough for him, time to go. Having provided education for the first seven years of the child’s life they consider their duty fulfilled. Go, take a hike, get on yer bike kiddo.
Frustration and c’est la vie as my beautiful and wonderful Tanzanian sister Matilda calls me and tells me with a sigh of sadness that is deeper than the Grand Canyon, “Gilly my glasses broken” and I do no more that swiftly arrive at her office (a small coal burning BBQ where she roasts corn and gives it away free to the local kids that have no money and are hungry) and give her the choice of my own spare reading glasses of which I have points 1.5, 2 or 2.5 with no concern or enquiry as to whether her glasses were prescription glasses because we have been through this before and her doctor had proudly let her pick glasses of her choice from the plastic bag he proffered without even the simplest of eye tests.
Frustration at the news that the government dog killers had swept through town leaving a trail of dead animals in their wake as they shot any loose dog they came across with little or no regard as to the dog’s actual ownership or status within the community.
Frustration as I deliver two of the most wonderful YA (young adults – get me with the lingo) to serve their hotel management course internship at the promised 5* star hotel to find a lovely setting with all the potential of maybe international 4* and no customers. Yeah the old frustrationometer has gone through the roof of late, and yet my ability to scribble upon these pages has been weakened and I have spent my forty days and forty nights in the Blogging Wilderness (Ok only 21 but I’m a writer with a strong tendency for the dramatic).
For my writing buddies, after all, this entire humble affair that sits out there in the blogosphere alongside real blogs, did start as my journey to be published! What is this poorly written, adjective and purple prose laden wittering really all about? An overdose of editing I believe. I have been so consumed in removing every crutch word, every that, just, quite, suddenly and for me personally so. I have been so immersed in my character’s lives and personalities that in truth a lot of what is written here today comes from the mouth of Wayne J Clark, joint lead in Path to Destiny. I don’t run my fingers through my hair; that’s his trait as is the Australian misuse of our native English language. I think it is this that has banished me to my rhetorical forty days in the wilderness.
Over editing and emotional turmoil as my love for this amazing country and its people grows and my realisation that I truly cannot consider returning to the western world to live right now. These are the things that have banished me to the blogging wilderness, where I have wandered, word less and suffering from a malaise more serious than malaria – Bloglessness. I hope with these words as penance that I have written a pathway out. I am not sure but rest assured cowboys, I’m coming, I may be lost but I have love and hope in my heart and here, in this peaceful, loving and giving corner of the world that is all that counts.