ThriveZim Education

Contrast,

Blazing South Asian Sun –

Pale, freckled skin

She should not be out at this hour of the day.

Her feet dangling into the cool, clear water of the fish pond.

Luscious deep green lilies enthroning lilac blooms

Koi nibbling her toes …

The reflection of brilliant blue sky in the water.

When I think of India, I never think about the sky-

I always think about the soil, the people populating the streets and lands, the hustle and bargaining bustle, the richness, the vibrant diversity, the layers upon layers of past and present and pending future.

I don’t think of freedom.

For freedom demands space.

Her father was an accountant for the British army, that’s how she finds herself, pale skin, freckled face, red hair, here in India. Today she has wandered out of the compound, found this beautiful, sacred garden… Gate slightly ajar-

 she slipped in-

moments later her feet drawn to the cool water…

Unfastened dusty sandals, bare feet …. Soothing, lapping of cool.

She was always a loner, didn’t care for the foolish games of childhood, preferred to slip off on her own, quietly unnoticed… like today.

Suddenly; silently, a gentle voice is heard beside her, “hello child, may I sit beside you?”

A weather worn face, molten brown eyes, a tangerine turban, and perfect English. Who is she to judge, “perfect English”. The English form opinions quickly about the imperfections of others speaking their language forgetting how imperfect their own if any attempts to learn another language are and forgetting how borrowed and bastard their own language is.

Fascinated, startled, she does not answer but stares.

 He slowly sits down,

 bare feet, now too dangling in the cool water…

 The carp move over to his toes.

Silence is golden … creating a space that brings togetherness … a togetherness that begins to build a bond across the divides of time and class and race and religion.

His weathered worn exterior exuding peace, the pale, delicate red-haired girl, noticing the reflection of the sky in the water … the beginning of finding freedom.

When I ate the jelly beans while multi-tasking … typing this blog … I didn’t get any memory recalls. Of course I tasted the liquorice or the cinnamon, etc, but there was no space to savour the moment and either link with a memory or build a new one. I just typed and chewed and swallowed and went on to the next word and the next bean. A waste of their powerful deliciousness.

How many moments do we miss out on, because we are not fully present. Too busy trying to get too many things done, so we don’t really live or create memories .. just blurs of mishmashed tastes and more often than not typos. We end up living in black and white instead of full colour.

Another lesson from the jelly beans was on “meh”.

“Meh (/mɛ/) is an interjection used as an expression of indifference or boredom. … The use of the term “meh” shows that the speaker is apathetic, uninterested, or indifferent to the question or subject at hand. It is occasionally used as an adjective, meaning something is mediocre or unremarkable.”

Even though they are called, “Gourmet” jelly beans, some of them just don’t have any distinct flavour, they are just “meh”. It made me wonder about life. What flavour do I bring to a place, a situation my job … ? Hopefully something positive. Although, I would dare to say that even a “bad” flavour in the moment is better than”meh”.

Indecision and blurry beliefs, may feel like a safe place to hang out, but “meh” won’t ever achieve anything meaningful. You could end up being left at the bottom of the jelly bean bag.

Gourmet Jelly beans … ooh, one of the best sweet discoveries. Each carefully coloured bean has a unique flavour. A tub lasts for ages as you can’t pour them into your mouth ten at a time … or you completely ruin the unique experience of closing your eyes and guessing the flavour. This taste adventure began to take me back and forth in my stored memories to specific moments in time.

“Food memories are more sensory than other memories in that they involve really all five senses, so when you’re that thoroughly engaged with the stimulus it has a more powerful effect,” explains Susan Whitborne, professor of psychological and brain sciences at the University of Massachusetts.

Here are some of the taste travel journeys the magic beans took me on …

“Mint sorbet” – took me back to when I was 5 years old and had my first ever sleep over with an American family who hung real candy canes and gingerbread men on their Christmas tree. This memory always links to diving down in this same family’s swimming pool to collect 1 cent coins from the bottom.

“Grape” always takes me back to when I was 11 years old and had my tonsils removed and my mum bought me loads of grape flavoured chewing gum. I also got my grey and white kitten, Smudge at this time.

“Granny smith apple” take me back to washing my hair with lumo-green apple shampoo and Watermelon reminds me of the “Body Shop” lip gloss. “Banana” flavour is snap to a local Zimbabwe chewing gum called, “Dandy”, that always lost its taste and went hard too quickly. This list goes on …

I wonder if this method of recall would work for studying. If I ate “cherry” when conjugating “Avoir” would that same cherry taste bring it all rushing back in an exam?

I think it would be a sweet experiment worth devoting some time to.

While there are positive rituals or daily habits, like drinking tea, or sitting down with a partner and talking about your day. I have to own up to a negative daily ritual I created.

It started a year into my new job. I had moved to this job with ambition, energy and expectation. A year later, I realised that what had seemed like open doors and opportunities for personal and professional growth were actually just illusions of openness, carrots to keep this donkey walking down a certain track. While accepting this was one thing, processing it was another.

I had become friends with a colleague who had been excited and expectant of change and fresh ideas and new momentum when I first joined the company. When we both realised that our dreams were going nowhere, we began this daily ritual. We didn’t intend to, or purposefully choose to. But now 20 months later I can see that we created a ritual. Every afternoon when our boss left for gym we would meet under a tree and exchange frustrations about the day. Sounds impossible, to have something to complain about every day for 20 months, but we managed to do it.

And for me, it didn’t stop there. When I got home, I recounted the frustrations to my husband. We wasted hours talking about a situation that we were powerless to change. Some days there seemed like glimmers of hope and this only fueled further discussion and what ifs…

I’ve been on leave and I go back to this job for 3 months, before I move on to a place where this donkey can have her carrot and eat it. So I have to purposefully choose to create a new ritual with my colleague. We enjoy each other’s company, but we have to choose to ….

let go …

walk away…

and stop doing.

If we are going to enjoy the last few months of working together.

I’m going to make a good thoughts jar so when I go home from work every day, I can write down one good thought about my current work place and put it in the jar. It will be my daily cue to avoid falling back into my bad habit. Who knows, I may just surprise myself and it may be easier than I imagine. I think I will give the jar to my colleague when I leave in December and encourage her to keep filling it.

Here’s to new possibilities …

Drinking tea is one of my daily rituals, I’m not quite sure when it began, but as a little girl I remember my mother bringing my sister and me a hot, sweet cup of tea every morning. I’ve brought my children up the same, although, thankfully, they like theirs less sweet.

It is definitely my comfort drink and it is the drink I miss the most when travelling, as, in my opinion, no body makes tea just the way I like to drink it (well, except my husband). Two years ago, we visited Abefoyle tea estate, pictured above, and even on one of the best tea estates in Zimbabwe, I did not get served a cup of tea that I felt was just right. (LOL)

Growing up in Zimbabwe, which was once a British colony makes our tea drinking habits unusual to most of the rest of the world. Southern African people understand, as well as Indian people, who also had the British influence their culture, why we like to drink our black teas with a spot of milk. I suppose if we learned to drink our teas without milk, then it would be easier to pour the perfect cup consistently.

On work days, I don’t leave the house before enjoying a cup of tea and my ritual on returning home at the end of the day, summer or winter is to sit down and enjoy a cup of tea with my husband, as we exchange anecdotes about our days.

Tea creates a space to pause and reflect and enjoy the simple pleasures of life. It creates a bond across class and culture and celebrates our shared humanity.