Blessing’s HIFA Diary- Day 2, Magic
28 April, Wednesday
CABS DAY
Some memorable soundbites of the day:
“Absence is a mass noun …”
“The tonnage of years …” - Richard Brown - poet
“You are a friend of my conscience…” Yasus Afari - poet, Reggae artist
___
I have discovered that I have the magical ability to close my eyes, turn over in my bed and turn night into morning. It happened for real. I guess it’s a feat made easier by the kind of evening I had. After the opening show we went to the Coca-Cola Green ( known as the Green from now on). Had several drinks at Laiza’s Restaurant with assorted friends and family, watched a bit of Liyana ( with Prudence, of the Music by Prudence fame) and finally made it home just after midnight, at which point I set out to write my diary for the day. At about 3 am I quit battling with my modem and that’s when the magic happened.
Somehow by the time I climbed the stairs to the press room this morning I felt human again and ready to do repeat the internet/modem battle. I eventually won the battle but at the cost of missing the Shanghai dance and acrobatic show. Oh internet, they name is plod! I then made it to another dance show, just barely though, and this is the trouble with things that start dead on time. Probably the most interesting piece in this show, was one that involved the putting on of sweaters and then taking them off again almost before they were on and I couldn’t help thinking that I could do that, in fact I do do it when I can’t decide what to wear or when I discover I’ve put my sweater on backwards and try to right the wrong without taking it off completely again. I just don’t put as much symmetry into the movements.
On the Coca-cola Green, after a nice lunch of a chicken wrap from the Mongolian bar-bar-que stand, I met an old friend from dance class. He told me he was one of the dancers in the opening show from the night before and of course I asked him the inevitable question, “What was actually going on with the theatre and dance?” He said that it’s about face; the different faces we show the world – sometimes we feel like the world is on our shoulders, sometimes we are drunk, sometimes we are angry … and then in the following breath he said, “ Hey, I was just going where I was supposed to go when I was supposed to go there, I don’t even know what it was about. When people ask me I just say it’s about face and leave them to make their own conclusions.” Yes, very helpful. What I did eventually glean was that it was an abstract piece so that at the very least explained why it had been so difficult to weave a story out of the drama in and around the stage.
I had the best Savanna of my life sitting there on the green and they played James Blunt, whose name I couldn’t remember when I was in the car, even thought they weren’t playing his songs on that radio – the DJ said something that made me think of him. “Goodbye my lover, goodbye my friend.” But instead I found a would-be lover a little later on. However before that, so pleased by the jogment of my memory I turned to the woman sitting at the table next to me and told her how pleased I was that I had remembered James Blunt and we struck up a conversation and by the time her son came round we were – you guessed it, new best friends – okay well maybe not quite, but we were getting along famously.
When my newfound companion moved on to watch a show. I was joined by a young man who told me he had worked in Uganda for ten years and that he was an accountant. We ended up talking about love and relationships and at some point discussed dating ( in general). I will say no more. Suffice it to say the most interesting thing e discovered is that a few years back we attended the same Oliver Mutukudzi concert in Kampala when I was there for five days at a festival. Chance encounters or six degrees of separation? But not love.
I then left to go to the Hivos Poetry Cafe – the place of my friends and there I met, Zubz, Batsi Chigama, TJ Dema, Ignatius Mabasa, Richard Brown (new found friend), Phillippa yaa Devilliers (NFF) and various others. It’s always interesting at the Poetry Cafe. I can’t seem to do the magic trick during the day and so I waited for the Opera Gala to begin by trudging around the festival grounds – and I did trudge because by this time it had not registered with my brain that it was more than a good idea to have a snack to replenish lost energy. It was finally one of my friends from the cafe, now on the green who advised me to get something to eat whereupon the light bulb recovered from it’s ZESA moment and shortly I was revived in good time for the main stage event.
I like Opera to a limited degree I must say – Opera is like Jazz to me, my relationship to the two is like that of a lover who blows hot and cold because he is too attached to an idea of what he thinks he wants to realise he is with the wrong woman. This is not to say though that I didn’t enjoy the performances, I do have my favourite moments but I was cold – just can’t seem to get it right enough with the jackets and the blankets and socks and shoes combos needed for a whole day out at HIFA but the war is not over yet, my chi is strong.
I had to give myself and 11pm curfew tonight otherwise I will not survive tomorrow. Came home at 11.30pm and guess what?
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