Christmas day 2015
I awoke at 5am today, to find a full
moon shining in through the slatted panes of my room.
Fully awake
within moments, I reached for my camera and opened the door allowing
the cool misty air into my hot sleeping space.
My attempts to photograph this
wonderful sight were not the best
And with the flash on, the camera
picked up the multitude of droplets that hung in the air and
obliterated the sight of the moon completely!
I showered and dressed, picked up my
bead bag and began to chant.
Today was Christmas day. I had no
responsibilities.
I had no agenda to fulfil.
The day was mine to do
with whatever I wished.
I chanted for an hour, until my mind
began to wander and then looked around my room.
I straightened my few
things, I cleaned the bathroom.
I then swept the large reception room
that my room adjoins …..
…... I then got out the mop and
bucket.
So many times we feel our chores and
responsibilities prevent us from doing the things that we want to do.
'
If I only had time I would ….'
but today I had plenty of time, today I
had no responsibilities, no chores and yet without them I felt lost!
By 8am I had finished all the cleaning,
washed my dress from the day before and hung it on the line in the
sun to dry.
The mist had cleared and the sun now
beat down with a heat that belied the early hour.
Today would be a hot day!
In the distance I heard to rattle of
pots being scrubbed in the kitchen.
Even on Christmas day people needed
feeding.
I looked for my shoes left the night before outside the
front door. But they were not there?
I looked inside the doorway in case
someone had moved them, but no they were definitely not around.
I looked at the dogs sleeping in the
shade …... they wouldn't have … would they?
On the far side of the garden I spotted
the tell tale glimpse of pink and black peeking out from beneath a
bush.
I had found one of my shoes!
It was well chewed but just about
wearable but I still had the other to find.
I walked around the whole garden, I
walked up and down the road outside the house, I went back to the
garden and began to look closer beneath the overgrown bushes until at
last hidden beside a flowerpot I found the other shoe.
This one had been chewed to breaking
point!
I have spent a huge amount of my life
walking around bare footed.
The idea of not having shoes did not
dismay me but in Malaysia the sun bakes the ground with such
intensity that by noon it burns the soles of your feet as you walk.
I needed shoes!
When I had cleaned that morning I had
found a nail on the floor.
Not knowing if it would be needed I had
placed it on a shelf for safe keeping.
How little did I know at the
time that barely an hour later I would be pushing the very same nail
through the remains of my shoes in an attempt to sew them back
together!
A length of cloth that had been used to
extend one of the strings on my mosquito net was removed from the net
to be used as my thread.
A hair grip found on the bathroom floor the
day I arrived became my needle and an hour later I had a wearable
pair of shoes again!
As I proudly walked down the hill
toward the kitchen I passed Mataji on her way to
the market garden.
“Yours shoes!” she remarked, “What
happened?”
I explained about the dogs and she
instantly insisted that I go to the supermarket with her husband when
he left in ten minutes.
As a predominantly Muslim country a lot
of the Malaysian shops were open and I happily agreed to go shopping.
My shoes were in fact repaired well
enough to wear but they were a bit embarrassing to wear in public.
I
rushed back to the bungalow to find my bag and purse.
The road that had been build the week
before I had arrived in 2014 had suffered in the heat and the rain.
The heavy lorries that have travelled
its route from farm to main road, laden with supplies and cargo have
done little to help matters.
Huge craters that even the lorries
drive around have appeared pushing the sun softened tarmac into
ridges along the sides of the road.
We manoeuvred our way along, veering
from side to side until we reached the main road.
The nearest town is
about 12km away.
Mataji had brought some coconuts she
wanted scraped out on the machine.
I remembered well the effort
needed to scrape out the flesh from my time on Tebu and was not
surprised there was a machine invented just for this purpose.
With the coconut flesh safely in bags
we proceeded to the supermarket where for 18 ringits (5=£1)
I bought myself the most expensive
shoes in the shop!
For 3 ringits I could have simple plastic flip
flops but I love my feet, they have carried me for 54 years and
comfort can not be scrimped upon!
I also bought a rake, a sharp knife and
some cherry tomatoes!
I still had my gardening plan and now I had the
tools to do it.
The cherry tomatoes were just because I could.
The cut grass around the bungalow lying
on the lawn was incredibly dry with all the sun we were getting.
The
grass beneath really needed a second cut but first the lying grass
needed to be removed.
Back at the bungalow and armed with my
new tools I set about clearing the area.
The sun by now was intense
and I managed about half an hour before sweat poured from my body
faster that I was drinking it in.
I showered and changed and decided to
go for a walk instead.
The farm, I realised as I walked, has
been divided up into quite diverse areas.
Mataji and her husband have, through
their investment in the farm have opened up a whole series of new
ways to work the land.
Their successful market garden growing long
beans,
short beans, tiny sweet tomatoes and
other things that I don't know the names of has inspired others to
invest and to try new things.
Two of Grandmothers sons have taken
control of the area near to the buildings and rows of sweet corn now
grow in segregated plots each in their own various stage of
development. (Grandmother lives in the first bungalow on the hill!)
A vast sprinkler system has been
installed making growing through the dry season possible.
The Devotees themselves manage the jack
fruit, guava and star fruit trees on the main areas, with sugar cane
dominating an entire side of the land.
Cows graze between the trees, clearing
the land and enjoying the shade.
On the far side of the farm the bulls
are kept separate in another overgrown tree filled area.
I wandered towards the bulls enclosure,
collecting star fruit as I went.
The main crop had already been
collected but the late developers now hung from the trees, ripened in
the sun and waiting for someone to pick them.
I obliged and soon had a large bag
filled to bursting point.
I had made a fruit salad the day before
with star fruit and oranges that we had eaten in the Mataji's house
in celebration of Christmas eve.
She had asked where I had found the
star fruit and wondered if I could bring her a few for cooking.
I dropped the filled bag at her house
as I passed and returned to my room.
The sun was now stifling, what little
breeze there was could only be obtained by sitting beside an open
doorway of the bungalow.
I picked up one of the four books I had
chosen to study during this visit and began to read.
The stories told through the Vedas are
quite amazing.
Colourful, exciting and dramatical I
was hoping to incorporate some of them into my story telling at the
festivals.
I re-read the story of Jagannath and
then in my own words rewrote it in a form I felt would appeal to not
only children but to the British public at large.
Clouds had gathered by now on the
horizon and thunder could be heard rumbling away in the distance.
The rains were late this year.
So far
we had had only the sound of distant thunder to remind us of what
should be.
During my stay last winter, the rains had arrived with me
and had reduced the roads into slippery sliding tracks of mud and
flowing water.
I lay on my bed to rest and listened to
the thunder as it approached.
A few rain drops splashed onto the hot
tin roof of the bungalow echoing through the building.
I went to sit by the doorway again as a
cool breeze forcefully blew the mosquito net to one side of the bed
and watched as huge rain drops hit the floor with force.
The few drops became many until a
proper deluge hammered down onto the tin roof deafening all
conversations if one had had someone to talk to!
One of the dogs ran into my room and
cowered bene
Animals are not allowed in the
buildings but I couldn't send her out again into this!
Thunder boomed overhead, the rain
poured in torrents off the roof and onto the ground below.
The air was cool and fresh,
I put the camera away, picked up
my poem book and began to write.
“Distant thunder rolls over far away
hills,
As I lie on my bed at the farm.
The mosquito net is drawn tight around,
Protecting me from bites and from harm
It is Christmas day in a foreign land
A place I have been to once before
In solitude I have spent the day
Remembering, resting and more,
I have walked through fields, collected
yellow star fruit
I have raked grass and washed today's
dress
In a bucket by hand with water pale
brown
I've read books when the heat demanded
rest.
The rain will soon fall in sheets from
the sky
The thunder and lightening will crash.
And then it will all stop, as suddenly
as it came
Just the rumbling thunder will last.
Life on the farm is dependant on rain
Four months of dry season must end
I lie on my bed and wait for the rain
And the soft cooling breeze it always
brings.
One drop at time, drops as large as my
thumb,
Begin to fall as I write.
The few become many that hammer down
hard
On tin roofs, there'll be no sleep
tonight.
An hour it lasts, just one hour, no
more
But the soil has drunk all it can
The corn and the trees, stand washed
and revived
A freshness has washed over the land.
The dog crawls out from beneath my bed
Now the force of the water is spent
She returns to the fields to hunt and
explore
In darkness Christmas day, in foreign
lands, comes to an end.
It had been a very peaceful day, very different from the traditional excitment normally found back home and yet I had enjoyed it just as much.
Christmas day in a Foreign Land had come to an end x x x
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