in the garden of contempt

SENEGAL | Thursday, 18 January 2007 | Views [304]

day 6: after three flat tires and a lot of hassle, i make it across the border to senegal. i am in dakar now, and it is visciously mocking me- i feel like an unwanted weed in the original garden of mother earth, my status sweetly and discretely revealed to me, metaphorically speaking:

" oh, sweet little weed!!how ever did your seed end up here, in our precious eden?! well, you are welcome. let me tell you how we live here, so that you may harmoniously inhabit this land with us. but first, please, give me your flowers, so that you may hear my story better..yes, kind sister, thank you. now little miss weed, would you please give me your leaves so that the sun may shine down on my humble family? you wouldn't want us to live in the darkness of your shadow, would you? i need the golden sun so that the story of our lives may shine into your naked ears. ah, thank you my friend, my friend and sister and family. oh, and one more thing, before we start..could you kindly uproot yourself? my children are starving and need to drink from the milk of your feet.." and so it goes here, this passive robbery: my naive attempts to be home in this land lead me into a subtle self sabotage, as the luscious lives here coax me into mowing my own self down..

Tags: Culture

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