things that go bump in the night

• resurrection

  Posted: February 16, 2008, 10:44 pm by bee

  Not sure where to start. Except that I have been far. But never thought I would end up here.
  
  Highlight:
  Sitting in a Jamaican restaurant listening tothe Jamaican chef, a large freckled beautiful woman asking the Buddhist monk about his sex life.
  
  No. Really.
  
  She asked him about his sexual urges.
  
  His answer in very very very broken English...after he chokes over his cup of ginger tea:
  
  "Morality"
  
  The monk in his long burgundy gown stands talking to the chef for a while. We all stop and listen.
  
  "If you haven't had alcohol you will won't want to have it. If you haven't had sex, you will not want to have." (interprets the restaurant owner, another beautiful and loud Jamaican woman.)
  
  "But it is like...when you wake up in the middle of the night...you are hungry...for one very big... meal," says the chef.
  
  Our Buddhist monk turns pink as he laughs. He says he has the urges. But is is about self-control.
  
  He sees the humour.
  
  I am not sure if the humour is in the Buddhist talking to all 6 of us Africans/Jamaicans about his non-existent sex life. Or whether it is in the fact that we have cornered this man of faith (cloak and all) and from his very very broken English, I am getting the interpretation through a very thick Jamaican accent as I chew on my plantains.
  
  He tells as he is the last of his lineage. He will have no children...as his grabs his groin to further emphasis his point.
  
  I'm sitting on an orange stool, plantain in right hand, staring at a Buddhist monk grabbing his groin at me.
  
  Life. I kiss it tenderly with wind chapped lips. It's winter again.
  
  Lowlight:
  
  Pictures of my dead brother online. The last of his lineage. He will have no children. Stories of the fire in my heart, my country, burning - a few weeks old but nonetheless speaking of a murmuring violence. False hope over resolution.
  
  Life. I hold it closely, as the wind blows away my hot, salty tears.

Blah blah blah

Fish cakes

Alas a fish cake.

Yet more fish cakes

Guess what ... yeah ... fish cakes.

The end of the fish cakes