I left a part of my heart in Senegal... St Louis

My heart speaks louder than words could express, which is how I connect with so many lovely people on a worldly basis. My heart says of love and understanding, forgiveness and nurturing, the part of me that leads to many travels and working on keeping a positive note at all levels ...  At any cost.

Now, back to mid-November in Senegal ...  The weekend of talks and partying in the Senegalese capital of Dakar had exhausted Donna and me by Tuesday, so we potted around by the pool at the Terrou-Bi Hotel all day. We attempted to have lunch at the well-recommended restaurant, Alkimia, at 15:00, but it was shut despite the concierge's assurance of the eatery's all-hour opening hours! We were in the posh neighbourhood of Dakar, and it was amusing to watch the bulls take over the streets without caring for the drivers passing by. So, lunch ended up back at Terrou-Bi.

The Beach at Terrou-Bi Hotel - Dakar

The Alkimia restaurant

Bullying the streets!

Late Tuesday evening, after the dinner of seven at Lagoon 1 ended, our driver, Pape, took Donna and me on over an hour's journey to Saly, a beach resort well outside Dakar. Needless to say, I passed out in my seat at the back of the car while Donna watched the route all along, giving advice to our driver as he made a jump at every unexpected road bump in darkness.

We finally got to the villa Donna's friend had sweetly offered us to stay as long as we wished. It was well over 1:00am, and we each took a room and got well-desired hours of sleep. And you, I sleep extremely well on aeroplanes, but every time I change beds, it takes at least one night of waking hours until I get used to my surroundings and mattress.  
On our first day in Saly, we headed to a café with outdoor seats, an elementary breakfast of pastry and a good coffee, Oh  And fresh orange juice from Senegal.  
Donna did some personal chores while I took my beach towel dressed in a bikini. Hawaiin Tropic, oil in hand, headed to my favourite place: laying on the sand and looking at the sea, which always makes me feel alive. Those wonderful rayons of sunshine being soaked up, followed by a swim in an ocean with perfect temperature. It was surprising to see the number of sunbeds being laid in different sections belonging to all the hotels that seemed to surround us, all filled with a European crowd, mostly French-speaking, which is also the national language here.
After three hours of sunshine and people-watching, I saw Donna approaching on the beach. We returned to the villa, conveniently placed very close by and dug into a relatively large watermelon the housekeeper had cut for us.  

At night, we found the Riviera restaurant on the only high street in Saly, by the recommendation of the hotel concierge next to our villa. The langoustines were as giant as a lobster, and we did not realise we had chosen the 'as-much-as-you-can-eat' menu. One was sufficient to fill up a baby elephant  Stuffed, but we still managed to gulp down a desert of sorbets to wash down the massive catch.

Thursday, 15 November, we woke up with a hectic drive schedule to Joal, followed by a visit to l'Île aux Coquillages and the Cimetière des Coquillages ...

Pape, our devoted, smiley driver (who could get stroppy. His issue was just being young. I smile every time I think of his laughter with his head banging in mid-air Bless), knew his way around. He drove us first to the Hotel Espadon, where we had a buffet breakfast, which was exemplary. However, the sight of the scenery made up for the simple food.  

We then headed towards Joal, through a shortcut on an orange, dusty road which eventually led to the main road. I was again taken aback by how the Senegalese ladies dressed up in such a colour-coordinated way, rich or poor, young or old. We stopped for a spot of shopping from a local stand, their hand-woven baskets, then parked the car next to a long bridge where we faced the choice of walking along it or taking a local boat called 'La Pirogue.'  It was a hot day. The way by sea became the popular decision by both parties, with a guide.

The Road to Joal

A derelict hotel

The woven basket stands on the way

Fishermen's beach

School ended

La Pirogue to l'Île aux Coquillages

On the thin but sturdy pirogue, we passed the mangroves where the muscles hung on a stick, cut from the palmier rogner trees called Palletier.  

Muscles all along!  Shame there was no marinière sauce

We then were let off at the Cimetière de Coquillages.  Where Muslims and Christians are buried in the same area. I never thought about that before, that you get buried according to your religion!

White shells are covering the ground.

We then took the boat to the next hut island, where they gathered the mil (couscous-like) and stored them in huts made of Palmier de Rogner, which has weather-resistant qualities.
And last was l'Île de Coquillages, a bridge crossing away from the cemetery. The island began at La Case des Palabras, where everyone gathered to exchange opinions and the elders to resolve any issues, like a court.

The milk was stored in the huts before being taken to markets.

The streets of l'Île de Coquillages

Meeting place under the shade (similar to courts)

 

The most magnificent tree I have ever seen grows in Senegal, called the Baobab tree, which was considered sacred and a religion in itself, where it was the symbol of Animism, an old belief.  

Finally, we got back to the mainland and made a last stop at the Museum of Président Singhor, which was the house where he resided. It was simple white walls, with blue/green shutters and mainly photos displayed on run-down walls. 

It was a hot day, and we were glad to be driving back to Saly after a long day of sightseeing. We had purchased bottles of a green, natural drink from the local dikktar fruit, filling and making up for our dinner as we had no energy to go out that evening after our long day.

The path to the beach

                           

The beach on Saly

                           

While we were touring around, Ibou, whom we had met on the last day of the talks, had been texting Donna and me to fix our meeting, taking our invite to St Louis seriously. So, early Friday morning, our driver, Pape, dropped us twenty minutes outside Saly, where Ibou was waiting at a roundabout with his car and chauffeur.  
Ibou was not very tall but charming, extremely pleasant and well-dressed. He greeted us with a warm smile, and as we settled in the back seat, our journey to the region of Saint-Louis, northwest of Senegal, 320 km from Dakar, began. Before setting off long, he suggested we visited Louga, where le Palais de Djily Mbaye, built over thirty years ago, was located. The palace was opened for our visit, and we went in through an iron gate into a modern entrance of a vast marble corridor with glass walls occupying each side.

Entrance to the palace

 
There was a marvel of rooms, each occupying vast spaces. Living rooms were designed in different themes, and bedrooms were individually decorated in various colours of pink, yellow, green, etc.
My paparazzi kodak moment could not stop me from continuously clicking the button on my camera. Here are some more photos.

The Moroccan-style living room

One of the many dining areas

And another one!

The pink bedroom

The carpet had gold & silver thread in parts.

 






























Our journey to Saint Louis continued after the visit. The three hours passed quickly as we drove through Thies and the picturesque African scenery filled with large Baobab trees scattered all around  Ibou mentioned the green, long grass occupying each side of the road would be yellow due to lack of rain in a couple of months  While admiring all that was around, I mentioned my mother's great advice.  
She said: "Life is full of ups and downs, and everyone faces troubles throughout life. But Haldita, always remember that there's also 'the beauty of life', which comes from nature. Remember to appreciate what each season brings. The trees, the flowers, the rivers and mountains, they're the beauty of life."
And here I was, experiencing just that.

We finally arrived at our destination, driving through a bridge Saint Louis appeared to sight.
Donna and I were shown to our suites at the house and freshened up quickly before meeting our host for a tour around his town. I noticed the water was not one to swim in, and again, any chance of sunbathing became a thing of the past. Oh well, there was much more to see and do.
Ibou was extraordinarily hospitable and proudly showed us around this charming town, which seemed more like an island. 

The local bus

Streets of Saint Louis

The Portuguese staircase

The Mosque with a Catholic bell

The modern Siki hotel

Such Elegance Everywhere

What colour coordination

After our tour and watching the well-dressed people of Saint Louis, we took refuge back at the house for a rest and a chat. After all, apart from the three-hour journey, we hardly knew each other. An hour was spent conversing by the pool before heading to our rooms to prepare for dinner. Ibou had it all planned ahead. Meanwhile, our host sounded increasingly excited, and as we strolled round the corner from the house, he gently took hold of my hand.
The first stop was a cocktail at a posada-like (bed & breakfast) house run by a French lady who spent most of her time running her boutique four-bedroom hotel  (Must try and find her card!)  Set in a white house you would never imagine seeing, looking from outside, a large door opens into a courtyard. She had also designed most of the modern furniture throughout the space.

The Courtyard

The Living room of the mini-hotel

 
 

















Our hostess, Josephine, offered to show Donna and me around her hotel gem while a French couple arrived and kept Ibou company. The cocktail hour over, we then walked down the road to the Hotel La Résidence at a table of ten, joined by another couple Ibou had seen earlier on our walk and invited to dinner, plus a Senegalese singer and an exciting professor  I was sat in between the gentlemen and got busy chatting. At the same time, a delicious fish dish was being served. Still, I opted for a salad. The well-known singer (if only I had a better memory for names, is my wish for 2013) told me about a festival of music in the desert nearby where Senegalese musicians would perform amid the wilderness the following weekend. Wish I could stay for that. Still, my flight to Tehran the next week prevented my thoughts from running any further.
On the way back to our residence, Ibou held my hand again, and I went along with the comfort I felt of his company. We talked a little more, walked around with our entourage while each parted on their separate routes, and we arrived back at the house, where Donna left us by the pool and resumed the night in total flirtation.

Saturday began with a big smile and the smell of freshly made pancakes, hypnotising me straight into a breakfast of homemade jam, cheese, and honey. It was a perfect way to start a bright day.
Our short stay in Saint Louis ended, and we returned to Dakar in over four hours. Ibou had insisted we stayed at his apartment there and made no plans for the rest of our two-day stay there.  
We rested in the afternoon and got ready once again to hit the streets of Dakar and attend a party given by a couple who had newly moved into the city, accompanied by Filia, whom I had met at the French Institute before leaving for Saly.
I chatted with an interesting character of an Italian artist who had been in Dakaresidentrty for years. He then introduced me to his young Senegalese girlfriend, who happened to be the most intelligent and had a good knowledge of the world. Hence, our conversation was getting hot when Donna informed me that Ibou and Filia wanted to leave, and everyone awaited me.  

On our last day in Dakar, I woke up with Ibou's gentle kiss on my head. He then gently whispered in my ear:
"Sleep  Sleep."
Totally awake by then, I told him:
"You wake me up and then say, sleep, sleep  Really now!"
We laughed, and I got up for another breakfast already prepared for us. As it was our last day and we only had till 9:00pm left from our trip to get to the airport, I suggested we lunched at the Lagoon restaurant by the sea so that Céline who was a guest at Ibou's, could join me for a spot of two hours' sunbathing. In contrast, Donna got on with some last-minute chores in Dakar.

Lunch at the Lagoon 1

 



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Time flew before Céline and I were picked up by Ibou's driver, who drove us around to the fish market to purchase urchins for the guests our host had invited before our departure. And here are some last shots from my memories of Dakar.

The President's residence

The Mosque in Dakar

Purchasing urchins

My last sunset in Dakar

And so, after an exciting nine days spent in the splendour of Senegal, our journey ended with goodbyes and memories which will stay alive in my mind forever.

If this was sin, then he's the sweetest taste of sin
If this was a voyage, it sure left me with a grin.
Destiny is about to change; life taking a new course
A fresh chapter to begin blows away strong as a force
Let the hair loose, make the most of every second
Are we really in control? Is that what you reckon?

For some reason, this came to mind... During the talks, Archbishop Desmond Tutu Pointed out...
'A woman who wants to match a man has no ambition'.

I wish you a merry Christmas, my friends out there. With all the scare of the world ending, life is on  'Live it in Love'.  

The World is not Enough! Tehran visit.

'Life should not be taken as work but as play. Non-serious, more joyous'. Osho.
Deva Vilas - Divine Play.  Take life as fun, a beautiful joke.
Let your laughter become your prayer because each moment only becomes luminous, glorious. It is the small things that count which allow splendour enter your life.

I have indeed made this my rule of life. Every morning I wake up, and that is each and every day, I open the curtains of my bedroom, looking onto the gardens below, that lush green which only nature can provide, the blossoms facing my window in April, the branches standing strong in winter, the magnificent colours of the leaves in autumn and summer with its full warmth and glory. Then, I bow to my Dear Lord, always with a smile. I take a moment to reflect on my incredible, surreal life, and I tell him:
"God, thank you. I fucking love you."
Even swear words, as we know them, have a way of bringing humour into a prayer. It is not God who punishes us; he has shown us his ways, and we do a great job of that onto ourselves alone.

Why is such a philosophy coming to me early in the morning?
There is talk of the world ending on Friday, 21 December 2012. My absence from my blog here was due to another trip back home for two weeks. In one way, home is where I lay my head. London is where I have felt comfortable for almost 40 years now. Still, the city I was born in is Tehran, where my family moved back to and where I needed to be before returning to London to spend Christmas with my kids and the friends who have become such a significant part of my life here.

Since arriving after my trip to Tehran, parties have been every night. Mind you, there were plenty of parties back there, too, as there is no drinking outside in restaurants and no bars or clubs to go to; people keep their fun homebound. Apart from dining at some great restaurants such as 'Terrace', 'Monsoon Lounge' and 'Nayeb'; the much-favoured chello kebab (which is the Persian traditional plate of rice and kebab, especially when you dine in a restaurant), a friend, Ardi, offered to drive Hala and I with my Girl, to the skiing slopes which had only just opened for the season, only two hours outside the capital. Ardi, a great family friend, is one of the most gentlemanly guys imaginable. He picked us up at our home, and we made our way to Dizin, situated in the Alborz mountain range. We stopped for breakfast, including fried eggs, Iranian flatbread (lavash), feta cheese and honey, with a pot of brewed tea, sitting on carpeted wooden beds with a view of the magnificent mountains ahead. A great start.  

Zoor Abad (favela concept) - Nex to Karaj

Karaj Dam on the way to Dizin

 

The road close to Dizin

Dizin ski slope

Dizin ski slopes are nick-named 'autobahn', which means motorway, as it is a long run starting from the 3,600m peak above sea level.

There is a hotel and chalet complex for visitors.
On the other side of the mountains, Shemshak's ski slopes are more bumpy and, hence, challenging for skiers.

On the left is the chalet, where the restaurant is located upstairs, with a terrace for keen sunbathers.

The sign for the Raees Coffee resembles Starbucks to the last detail!

The music played in the restaurant with a burning fireplace was a chill house of the latest numbers heard abroad.


A great day ended fast as I chatted with a charming family of a father, daughter, and husband who joined me at the empty table. I sat to watch the trendy girls, all made-up and the good-looking boys at the tables around. The family used to live in the UK and had now all moved back home to Iran.
As the father mentioned, they were pleased about their move.
Before the night had fully drawn, we returned home for a restful evening of joining my mum, brother Soltan and Tuba. We watched the latest Turkish series, which followed one after the other and occupied many families' lives at night. Even my Girl and I got involved in them in no time. Dallas, eat your heart out; stories of family feuds, insest and money matters at its best, or should I say at its worst?

A few days were spent at the bazaar in the north of Tehran; it was not quite as vast as the main one in the south but still relatively busy, with narrow roads taking one to different sections, from fruit stalls to a whole floor devoted to gold and jewellery, another for Persian embroideries with mainly paisley designs and hardware stores, a kind of department store, divided into shops, all in one mostly covered area. Or one could call it an old-style mall!

Entrance to Tajrish Bazaar

Persian nuts are delicious!

A typical grocer's

Fruit Galore

Sabzi to accompany most meals.

Paisley and another textile shop

The Imam Saleh Mosque

As Sis Hala said, Tehran is full of surprises. One of my dear friends there, Goly and her two sisters took us to a great pizza and pasta restaurant on a backstreet in Gheitarieh called ....  Surprise, surprise ...  Dolce Vita! The most minor attire for going anywhere outside the homes for ladies is a scarf (barely covering the hair these days) and showing no bare body skin. But in certain areas, uptown, so many ladies were walking without any attention to their fallen scarves!  

On a Friday, at Hala's suggestion, it was a family affair of ours and Ardi's, visiting the park set amid Tehran called 'Ab-o-Atash', which means 'water and fire'. I had to take pictures as the area occupied was immense and bang in the centre of town, still under construction in some parts. Letting you be the judge.

An art gallery still under construction

The Dome-like building with a covered nursery selling plants

Another bridge is being built, connecting the park to a hilly forest.

Tehran is full of wonders. Visiting family and friends is always heart-warming; the Persian sense of humour is outrageous. As someone pointed out, throughout history, poets and writers have used humour (tanz - in Farsi) as a weapon to ridicule. The hospitality everywhere we went was next to none: lavish and warm. Leaving my home town always leaves me with a sense of emptiness, which gets filled through my love for my countrymen and women. But like everywhere else in the world, there are ups, and there are downs. My visits are short, and I see the beauty of the country and people because that is what I choose to see.
I do miss my calm mama and her hug.

Back in my other home, London, the first night I got back was dinner with two old friends, the wonderful sisters and their Girls. What fun to catch up with them all after so long. At these moments, it is like time never got in between us.  
Who was in town on Monday, but my soulmate and great buddy, Jade. I joined her and her young nephews at Maroush in Beauchamp Place for a bite of Lebanese. That first morning back here, Ernest had called to invite me to the Box, a club I had heard so much of, with live acts, some naughty and others artistic, on a special MTV evening in aid of an Aids Charity. His strict orders were:
"It's tomorrow night, and Kelly is joining with Daniel and Jonathan. I want us all to look fab and sexy!"
After lunch, Jade agreed to accompany me to my favourite designer, Jean Paul Gautier's flagship store in Chelsea. Boy, did I go wild there before hitting the Box the following evening!
We then left the large shopping bag in the boot of my car and drove to see Jade's close friend Darya at her new apartment before heading to the newly decorated Electric restaurant called Diner in Notting Hill, joined by Yasmeen and her new man. At dinner, I entertained them with my stories of Tehran and ...  My new man! Ah. There has been no mention of him since my stories on Senegal have died to an end. To be continued in the next chapter of my life.
Tuesday night's MTV Aids Charity was a big success, with Graham Norton presenting the acts and hosting the show. It was so much fun spending a fantabulous time with my chums, dancing the night away before I found a cab back home at 3:00am.
When I first saw Kelly and Ernest that evening at Gracy's exhibition, I mentioned my supermarket shopping that afternoon in case some cosmic changes were forced upon us, depriving us of food.
"Really, Haldita,"  They asked in surprise. "Like, what did you get?"
"Oh!"  I replied. "Four cans of tuna and two cans of corn."
Most extravagant if hunger was to strike for days! Haha.  One certainly wouldn't be able to feed on Jean Paul Gautier's creations. Eating cake won't do either, as Marie Antoinette put it.
Sadly, could not find the energy the following evening to attend Lola's Christmas party as I crashed in bed before 9:30pm! 

Now, I want to end this chapter with a note to all the rumours of the world ending tomorrow (as some believe) due to planetary alignment; I tuned into the LBC radio by chance in my car tonight. Some believe 'materialism will give way to spiritualism', others... 'A new rhythm moves in as away goes chaos and in comes a beam of light poured onto the world'. Some assume we may experience darkness due to an eclipse. The question being posed on the radio was:
"What would you do if you knew this was your last day?"
My response to myself was immediate. A smile covered my face when I thought:
"I wouldn't change a thing in my life. In fact, I've been living my daily life since my separation as though it truly is my last day on earth. And thank God for that."
Keep positive and happy. It will all work out beautifully at the end. If it hasn't worked out, it's not the end. (I love that quote)

The tales of Senegal still need to be finished... But to come. 

Senegal - Dakar & L'Île de Gorée

Often, I get asked where my favourite travel place has been. Every time, my mind storms through the memories of the first places that come to mind ...  Rio and its incredible landscape, the Prague episode, Sintra and that magical castle, the fun I had in Beirut with the most hospitable nation I had come across, Ibiza. But my answer every time is, 'every place has a character of its own, some places I am not terribly fond of to visit again, but what indeed leaves its mark is the people from a city that make it what it truly is; a meaningful memory. Senegal has undoubtedly left its footprints all over my heart, and here is how it all began.

Now, where do I begin???
A few chapters can be written on my magical journey through Senegal. 

Donna was my travel partner to Dakar. She was the one who persisted and helped organise our whole trip through the wonderful friends she had connected with on her previous visit to the Senegalese capital. We had a connecting flight to catch via Charles de Gaulle in Paris, which had changed so much since Eurostar has been the only transport I have used to this destination since it began in 1996. Goodness, had it changed! So exquisitely modern. Or some may dispute that, as they do.

Charles de Gaulle Paris

Who might have been on our flight from Paris to Dakar but the superb Angelique Kidjo.  
The five-and-a-half-hour flight flew by, watching a couple of movies, one French, of which I wish the name would come to mind; it doesn't. And a film about the invention of the vibrator or dildo!  
We left the plane into the warm air of Dakar, and at even 9:30pm, it managed to caress our skins, and all our muscles tended to loosen up as we took the bus to the hustle and bustle of the terminal and outside the airport. The friendly smile of Hachim and a warm hug to his great buddy Donna and then me were an excellent beginning to our trip. He drove us directly (with our four pieces of luggage) to the house we were helped to rent and shared our stay there with Jane and Russ. They had arrived the previous day and texted us to join them at a rap concert in the new Theatre Hall built by the Chinese, a replica of which exists in China. It carried a label somewhere saying 'Made BY China'! We also spent the following two days attending panels of African leaders being challenged in the questioning ways of the youth and watching some of the great names of African music play live on stage.  
Although it meant waking up early and carrying on till late every night by going out, every waking hour in Senegal was well worth it.  

The few million-dollar monument

Fruit sellers on the street

On our first night, after being handed special passes, we arrived at the concert to join our friends towards the end of the performance. A vast theatre filled with youth and vigour, rapping along with the singer. My minimal knowledge of rap made me watch in amazement, not knowing who was on stage. Oh well, a girl can't say Everything!
Back at the house, I covered myself top to toe to sleep and woke up at dawn, accompanied by Donna, to go and have breakfast at the Terrou-Bi Hotel and find a way out of that rented house, which was not to our liking, to say the least.

Charlene came to our rescue and offered us to share a room at the Radisson Hotel, which we gratefully accepted until Monday at 3:00pm. The open-air seating for breakfast was a joy, with the temperature rising to 31 degrees every day while we had left behind the London weather of cold and grey skies.  
Personally, I found Dakar charming. So many people touched my heart; I cannot say enough good things about this place. Hachim had organised a car and driver called Pape for us, a tall and skinny young man whose giggly smile was infectious. The first two days, he arrived late, and Donna tried to teach him a few conduct facts, but he was headstrong, yet he did try his best. Every time he arrived late, I would say:
"Ah! Pape has finally popped!"

The view of our bedroom at Radisson Hotel - Dakar

At the seminars, they announced the Prime Minister of Senegal, Macky Sall, to take the stand at the start of the weekend, concentrating on the youth of Africa and what significant role they play as they stand for 60% of the population being below 25 years old. President Sall talked of finding ways to give the youth a chance as their potential could be capitalised on. He added:  "An exciting time. Africa is at a turning point."
His speech was brief and productive. Afterwards, followed a panel of a former Nigerian President discussing 'African Youth', challenged by a young girl of 18 years of age as she mentioned:
"The fact that the elder is always right must be changed."
That is a fair point. But I do know our children, as did we; they are always right and probably are. We may have well learned from experiences through life, but with all the knowledge at the disposal of the youth, their minds are brimming with new ideas more so than any generation has ever had before. Finally, the time has come to recognise that children grow faster in mind, thought and behaviour than ever.  
'In three years, 41% of the world's youth will be African and yet almost half the world's out-of-school children live in Sub-Saharan Africa'.  
The Ex-President did not seem terribly comfortable at first but then added:
"Your generation has more facilities and fewer opportunities, while it was the reverse during my generation, having more opportunities and fewer facilities."
He also said:  "Anybody who believes he can do, he can DO. You've the attitude, and you'll get there. Something achievable and not as far-fetched as becoming Obama."
The girl confidently noted: "It's not the success stories lacking but their exposure."
Questions were being raised amongst the crowd sitting in the theatre, and microphones were handed to women and men of different ages to speak their minds and ask questions.

Most inspiring to see such bright minds, fearless of any stage fright, these young brilliant people standing up and giving outstanding speeches and questioning their leaders, which reminded me of the ski slopes, where the two to three-year-old learners zoom away past you with no attitude but just the will to do what they are best at.

These messages caught my mind:
'To restless young people, don't stop. Carry on being restless.'
'Linking up and connecting Africa. Think of Africa not as 54 but as One nation.'
I wish we do that with the World as One and have a passport that reads: 'Global Citizen'.
Also coming from the young: 'Growth in having a voice, access to social enterprise, economic and spiritual awareness.'
Truly dazzling.

In another panel of six speakers, one person whose views were passionate and his manner of discussion captured the bystanders was called Jay Naidoo. His talk went on:
"We need to get in touch with the people in the street. We need to work hard. If you want change, then we've got to face the fire. Leadership is to believe in a dream, go there and fight for it or 30 years down the line, we will still be talking the same talk and walking the same walk."
And that is in life, in general.

I sat there and listened and took pages and notes; in the two days of talks and concerts of some of the best Africa had to offer, I felt humbly grateful for landing in such an inspirational forum of wonderful people. Also, my lousy memory for names is simply a hopeless case, so there is no need for too much pressure; just enjoy the moments. But I do recall Ismael Lo, Baaba Maal and a finale by the duo of Angelique Kidjo, united by Youssou N'Dour's names.

Ismael Lo

Baaba Maal

Angelique Kidjo & Youssou N'Dour

Archbishop Desmond Tutu gave an encouraging speech in acceptance of his prize for his lifelong commitment to speaking truth to power, handed to him by the brilliant singer and activist Angelique Kidjo, said:
"Don't be affected by the cynicism of 'oldies' like us", he went on. "Go ahead and dream of a different kind of world."
His humour and infectious laughter made his speech even more mesmerising; he also raised:
"Listening to women and all they've to say... They're real toughies. You guys are in trouble!"
And he continued: "We need a revolution led by women. We've been buttering them up. It's time for the women now to say... 'We've let you men get along, but now get out of the way and let us do our job'. All of us know what our mothers have done for us. As Hitler's mother declined to carry him next to her bosom, he grew up with immense insecurity. The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world."
And there was more from Desmond Tutu: 
"Get to believe you're Special. VSP, you're extraordinary, and we can get this continent humming. Don't repeat our mistakes, you young. There's only one way of eating an elephant, a piece at a time. Wake up, Shake up and Move. The longest journey begins with a step."
WOW.  

The Adorable Archbishop Desmond Tutu

The Founder of this marvellously unique organisation finished his studies as a PhD in the UK; of African origin, he talked openly about his success story in business and his passion for helping Africa get the attention it deserves. He has an outstanding team of devotees who help him run this invigorating program. 
I was genuinely impressed.

On the last day of the massive organisation that had been taking place in Dakar, on Sunday, canapés and drinks were being served in the vast hall of the theatre when Aliou approached Donna to say hi, and while being introduced to me, another gentleman was addressed to us by him called; Ibou. Everything went so fast that I recall Ibou asking us how long we were staying in Senegal, and we mentioned our departure a week later on a Sunday evening. He then invited us to his house in St Louis on the Friday. 
I cheekily, without knowing Ibou, asked:
"Seriously? You mean what you're saying?"
He seemed a little taken aback at first but charmingly replied:
"Yes. I absolutely mean it."

Now, to tell you more about Senegal... Sharing the elegant hotel room with Donna, as we did in Manchester, was fun and easy. She was also busy organising our one-hour trip to Saly, situated by the sea, on a Monday evening, at her friend's villa she had offered us to stay at. It was great lounging by the Radisson pool where Ernest was also taking residence and being great company while Donna got busy with her hectic back-and-forth schedule to Saly. We had lunch by the pool; during the evenings, everyone, including Lola and Francine (from my last Paris connection), was present to add flavour to the scene and Lola's entourage of the who's who of connected people. With Ernest and many lovely people, we tried the Little Buddha bar, and Donna and I left late to get only a few hours of sleep.
With Lola, accompanied by Jane and Russ and again a large table of people which kept adding throughout the night, booked at the French Institute, we passed another late night of meeting of the minds. On all occasions during my visit, every time I turned my head to every possible side, there was a pull of energy, another fantastic character to chat with.
On our last night, Monday evening, Lagoon 1 was the designated restaurant to dine with Jane and Russ, accompanied by Kalu and the lovely Hachim, who had brought his wife along.

Donna and I took time on Monday to visit L'Ile de Gorée, an island twenty minutes away by ferry. It was a hot day, but not one to get sweaty; we landed at Gorée, being somewhat hassled by the occupants of the island to sell us their guidance to La Maison des Esclaves, where the house of slaves was used for processing the slaves on the way to the Americas. As we set foot on the island, we were informed that the house was closed till 2:30pm for lunch, and we only had one hour till 2:00pm to catch the ferry back and move out of our hotel room by 3:00pm. We finally found a charming young man who gently walked beside us and talked us through parts of the colonially colourful row of houses, the artists' works displayed along dusty roads going up a hill towards a Canon, placed on top of a mountain. 

A Colonial House

The backstreets of the island

The church in the centre of the island

Artists display their work throughout

The Guns of Navaron was filmed here.

From this Senegalese capital, Dakar, here are a few captions on camera, 
as a fisherman catches his hunt at sea. 

So far, from our arrival to Dakar on a Friday evening, we had stepped into our villa one night, the next two were at the Radisson and the Monday, which was meant to be our departure to Saly, we ended up sleeping at the early hours of the morning (again) at the Terrou-bi Hotel. How many times did we open and close those four suitcases, and how many different mattresses have we tested so far? And so, our adventures to Saly and beyond continued ...

Past to Present... Survival

This is what I came across on a friend's FB page:
'How old would you be if you didn't know your age?' Satchel Paige.
Couldn't help but answer: 
'Sometimes six, others, hundred and twenty-five!'

A weekend of rest!  
Donna asked me earlier:
"Haldita, when was the last weekend you took time off to rest?"
Now, this made me think. My life may be a holiday, and my travels and engagements are fun, but I still have time to rest. There may not be an office job waiting every day, nor meetings of money-producing importance, but every day and hour of my life is spent learning and doing my little bit to bring a little sparkle of joy or hope spread from how I feel into the lives of few I can reach. The time has come for me to begin telling you my true story, how I got here and what roles I played in my life to get to the part I am now in charge of conducting. We all live lives of drama, tragedy, comedy and science fiction, so what is this chapter about to unravel?

The time tunnel this morning threw me back about 20 years! I lived in London on the frigid but posh Belgravia Estate with my Ex and two school children. Having returned to the UK after spending two years abroad, in a country after the war... A book can or will be written on that basis, but it has yet to be. For now, here goes...

I recall hanging outside the squared windows of our coach house living room... Let me stop a second; OMG, I just noticed during my marriage while we moved every year or so, we actually resided in three different coach houses, where the stables were held in the old days! Could that have been connected to a past life experience? Never mind, back to the story... So while hanging outside cleaning the windows of our Belgravia coach house, the roots of my hair covered in dye and a scarf tied at the back of the neck (in the past, not even our maids had I seen walking around supporting such a look!), polishing those panelled glass frameworks, inside out. At the same time, our Indonesian help had her day off. If she had seen me, she would have thought, 'Ma'am has gone cuckoo'. I could have easily called a window cleaner, too, but no, washing those windows and occasionally ironing were the only chores I took over at times. It gave me time to reflect, hence therapeutic, the kind cleaning always does. More than anything, what bothered me at the time was not being able to make my man happy, no matter how hard I tried.

Helpless, selfless and feeling utterly useless, the dim idea of staying in this incapable housewife mode was not one to boost any morals. How depressing can it be to think you are stuck in a phase and have no idea how to plan a way out. Now, there I was, in a position so many housewives or 'trained' husbands are lost in, with very little hope of ever coming out. The thoughts going through my mind while I hung out the window, firstly, were:
"Gosh, if my husband comes home and finds me washing windows, with that scarf on my head, he would freak out most probably, shouting:
"Have you gone out of your mind, woman? Since when have you done housework? You're embarrassing us."
Frankly, I could not have blamed him, but honestly, I could not give a damn what those 'other people' thought; it seems I never did and never will. In fact, it amused me somewhat, thinking the neighbours must think we are so nouveau riche! Finding humour in the darkest moments is the best way to overcome difficult times.  

What is it that makes some proud of their looks? Their leggy figure? Those toys money can buy to impress? We all deteriorate in time. Even all the money in the world could disappear before our very eyes. One thing is for sure: nothing stays the same forever. Arrogance is truly ignorance.

My second thought was: 'How desperate I feel. How could I reach this state after being raised in an open-minded environment by wonderful parents and a privileged life? How could I end up in such despair?'
Then I recall my childhood, probably at the age of ten or barely eleven, when my cousin, on our way home, told me of a woman's duties to her husband:
"My mother says," She went on, "A girl should be a virgin when she gets married. She should take that as a present to her husband's home."
"What?" I looked at her in amazement. "And what does the husband bring to the table? What is to be expected of him?"
My cousin would ignore what must have sounded as my outrageous remark and went on to add:
"And my mother says, if you do your five-time prayers daily, God will forgive you Anything."
Now, I cannot quite tell which of those remarks boiled my blood more to a temperature of explosion. My outcry would then be:
"Now, you mean if you recite some words you're not fully aware of the true meaning of, you can go and kill someone or hurt others in the thought that God will forgive you your sins? Then, religion is not for me. I go to God for my answers."

I did not blame my cousin for the way she thought or those 'posh' neighbours to find my eccentric ways acceptable; I just didn't care. Despite my studies and the few certificates that carried my name, there I was in the now, without an inkling of thought as to what the future had in store. As far as this may seem, it also feels like it was yesterday; time will pass, and life continues. Still, I turned to God with all his glory back on that window sill and wondered... 'Will I ever? Make it out of this rut of feelings, and if one day I will, then so can anyone."

I could not even see the tunnel, 
let alone the search for the light.

As for my life with the Ex, for whom I blame nothing as he helped me question my ways and do my utmost to change them. He pushed my buttons to get stronger, and I realised my belief in finding happiness meant more and more every day; I now have reached a place of no return; Love and kindness rule the world. No one is in charge of our unhappiness but ourselves. As hard as it may seem to grasp when we feel every wall around us is about to collapse, it is the truth.

At the time, I had no idea how my life would change as we moved to a bigger house in that same neighbourhood, with a new business where I found the chance to get involved, now not only just living but also working with my then-husband.
It was my mother, visiting London at the time, who brought me back to a reality check when I was complaining about giving up on working with my husband as abuse had now taken a further step in our marriage. Mama told me:
"What? Have I brought you up with all the best of everything now to see you sit at home and simply be a housewife?"
Although I refused to disclose a lot of my unhappiness to my mother as her solution, I knew it would simply be:
"I don't understand what's this divorce for? If two people are unhappy together, then that's what it was created for! Divorce."
But to explain to her that divorcing my dad for the first time when I was eleven years old, moving to Europe and then remarrying him a year later again, only to get a second divorce from Papa when I was nineteen, did not help boost my confidence, nor did it help me in the choices I made in life. Again, mama did her best to give us all she could, and she is a great mum, an incredible woman. Parents are only human, and they have their life experiences to go through; they are by no means perfect, as neither are we. And it's nobody's fault. If you are unhappy, change.

How far-fetched was my dream of living a life of peace and love? Where was I allowed to be me, to be free? And what would I do if there was an inkling of a chance of reaching that goal? Well, the answer was fiction in itself. I sometimes ask myself whether it was my past that was surreal or if it was my now? I dreamed of being accessible and robust without being harsh, a strength that came from within, to overcome any hurt, and, most of all, to be happy with my life. Little did I know that I would reach a state where acceptance rules: no one is perfect, and that is the beauty of us. Our flaws make us think and re-think whether we want to repeat mistakes as we saw them or whether there is a choice to make the necessary changes and move on. No expectation is rule number one. Give your love freely and learn at your own paste not to expect it back. Because, after all, people may take you wrongly or they may not; that is their choice, but at least you can live a life of inspiration. 

All these twenty years have passed, and have I found the peace I searched for? Yes. Do I still make mistakes? I sure damn hope so. Are there moments of doubt in life? All the fucking time. Oops! I swore again. Nothing in the fact that the circle of life will take its course will change. Are we indeed in charge of our destiny? No way. All we can do is learn ways to make our existence meaningful... A learning passage. 

This was supposed to be a short introduction to Moi! Haha
As you can tell, I have a looooong story to tell. Let us stay in that moment where we reach at different times and look to the future with 'no hope', no light. How much fear does it take to put a hold on a future we each yearn for? And the pain? Or are you ready to make 'change' your number one priority?
When you are in despair, life looks like a dark tunnel; it is as though you go through the darkness, hopelessly looking for a keyhole of light, where only you hold the key, but even that does not seem to be of help. Have Faith. Keep thinking: 'The Key is in my hand.'

Into the now... The weekend was restful, chilling, and sometimes in great company. A three-hour breakfast at Gail's with Kristel on Friday and another three-hour session of tandoori king prawns at Star of India's with Bardot left me inspired with ideas and happy. The Saturday and Sunday were at home and ended with Lola bringing over dishes by M&S to be left in the oven with one of her unique salads in a green bowl. Donna happened to pass by and say hello, so we ended on another few joyful hours.

Monday was a six-hour session with Antonia at Face for a photo shoot by Bernardo, the Brazilian photographer for Vogue (well, that's what we were constantly informed of), with a makeover, hairdo and four changes of clothes we had brought. We matched our last outfits as a latex purchase I had made at Harmony and Antonia's bespoke tiger look. The day was fun as we were rushed from manicure to hairdo, and the make-up came. We were directed to pause like a ' model ' in the white area next door to a high-ceiling room. Frankly, I am uncomfortable in front of a camera; despite having taken many photos, I prefer a more natural look with a dash of posing. But the day was fun, and I returned home with my suitcase of clothes and two photos on a CD which I will probably never use!

Dinner was at Kateh's delicious Persian restaurant with Ernest and an enchanting conversation, followed by the cinema. Instead of the James Bond movie Skyfall, which we were meant to see, my friend had booked us in for 'Rust and Bone' as he knew I enjoyed watching a meaningful movie more. And boy, did it blow us away and leave us thinking how the game of survival is indeed played in the lives of so many. Fighting for meaning in ways so far-fetched to most of us, simply having to make ends meet in terms of wasting time and questioning whether the time will ever come when we can change our lives. The time is now, my friends. 'It's now or never? Dara rara'. 

And this rose to mind: 
'When you are in total despair
Life has nothing of caring to share
Darkness abounds through a tunnel
It's through difficulties we learn to channel
Looking hopelessly for a keyhole of light
Through the misery, a candle is nowhere in sight
Dear Lord, I pray to thee in moments of gloom
Where is the light, the sun, and that bloom?
Life turns pages of many shades and visions
Am I left in charge of making all decisions?
What is the choice but have faith in the above
Where is the line? The answer circles back to love.'

And now, looking back at that window where I hung, the ones facing me now come from the tall, glass windows of my living room where my tears have been far and in between while laughter has spread itself all around. Looking out onto a stormy, rainy, grey autumn day, I opened the old glass door to my Romeo, Juliet balcony window and looking up at the sky, it was as though the Lord smiled at me; I smiled widely back and heard my Protector tell me:
"Girl, what are you worried about?"  
Have I managed to go through everything life has thrown at me with a stride, with one goal in mind: to find happiness? And have I reached that state? The state of joy where it's so high, nothing or no one can bring me down? All because I know what it's like to feel despair?  
And now, a loving family I'm longing to see and friends ...  Hah, friends more colourful and beautiful than any rainbow could possibly produce in tone or shine."  
Back to the conversation with my Beautiful Lord, I knew he protected me, and there was nothing to fear or doubt. Life has been full of beautiful surprises all along; why should it change?


Sending you the biggest un-germed hug. Well, I have recovered from double flu (one after the other) and will be off tomorrow... Now, let's see where's calling... Mmm... Dakar, Senegal. Wow!

Let me add this now: this blog was meant to be posted three weeks ago! My trip to Senegal was... Pure Awesome. Will write soon. Very soon.