Memories ...

In spite of having always been afraid of heights ... I have never feared "jumping" high ...

The possibility of not "clearing" the pre-defined height  seldom was amongst my concerns, when I  was concentrating to jump ...  and so it has been in almost every stage of my life ... as if the "hurdles" are not to be taken as an impediment but rather a test to one's courage and tenacity ...

This is why I don't seem to recognize myself (at times) in regards to some of my recent  life "tracks" ... 

I owe part of my "mental strength" to the school system I grew up in ... a boarding school of nuns, whose strict daily life was fairly similar to the one cadets were subject to in military schools.

I don't have any regrets and must confess that I quite liked it until I was 15 years old (I left to University the year after). It was considered among the best private schools in Portugal and "young ladies" (I was 9 when I left my grandmother's "nest") were supposed to be prepared to become "ideal" wives (holding a good academical background with the intent of not "showing it" but inside the house or in social gatherings, being able to speak at least two foreign Languages, cook, embroider, play piano or any other instrument, sing, etc.). The germ of "non-conformity" (though subtle and within the rules), started developing here ... 

I may not have become the ideal "whatever" ..., but one thing I know ... I 'll keep on striving to achieve "perfection" in whatever I do and in spite of having always been afraid of heights, I still don't (theoretically) fear the "hurdles" along the way ...

Loose thoughts ...or no longer ...

I have been feeling rather lazy, unorganized and "benumbed" ...  and the problem seems to be  the fact that this " inactivity" has been "contaminating" me for the last 4 years ...

Although I have been justifying (to myself) that such a state of "dormancy" is a (normal) subsequent effect regarding Faye's death ... deep down inside of me, I feel there must be (is) more to it than that ...

I no longer attempt to "paint"...

The simple sight of the paint tubes used to ignite my inner desire to express myself as a potential painter ... and what was a pleasure, (even if the final result didn't correspond to what I had devised in my mind and never was what I had expected) ..., no longer is ... irrespective of the fact that I still keep a close relationship with Art, though more as an observer and therefore a passive like "artist" ...

I no longer go to the beach, like I used to (every weekend) ...

In fact, the last time I did was in 2009, whilst in Sal, Cape Verde and Figueira da Foz and both "experiences" didn't last but a few brief moments. What would have easily been  promising afternoons (in a recent past), were to soon become fastidious ones ... with or without a book (my  regular "beach companions") ...  because I simply felt "restless" ...

I no longer go out dancing ... nor practice my Angolan "kizomba" steps along the house, whilst listening to those rhythms which invariably used to make me "slide" on the "dance floor", as if forced by an uncontrollable inborn movement ...

The latest (or should I say last)  dance movements were "performed" in a salsa dance class in Cuba  in 2008... and my feet didn't  quite accompany the willingness to follow the Hotel dance teacher ...  

I no longer "look after" the wooden African sculptures and busts spread around the house, like I used to ... dusting and wiping them carefully with a waxed cloth ...

I (even) avoid looking at them sometimes ... they seem to have lost their original colour ..., on one hand, this "temporary" situation takes me back (momentarily) to a book I read,  "The glorious family" by the Angolan writer Pepetela, in which  a family from Bengela took pride in the "whitening" of the race achieved by some of their family members because of having married into white families ...

  

I no longer do a lot of the things I used to like doing (and still like to do, at least theoretically) ... and  the ones I still keep on doing ... like going to exhibitions, reading or simply going out of the house are preceeded by a strong effort on my part ...

Acting by anticipation ...

I have just finished reading "Slave hunter: One Man's global quest to free victims of Human Trafficking" by Aaron Cohen and Christine Buckley. As I was reading it, I thought of my daughter  Faye, who was the first person to introduce me to this theme, back in 2002.

It was also then, thanks to APAV (Portuguese Association for Vicitim support), which Faye was working for, that I further got into the murky depths of this issue by translating the book "Perspectives on trafficking  human beings - phenomenon, legislation  and assistance" and later participating in the Dikê project meeting held in Lisbon on "Protection and promotion of victims Rights in Europe" as a translator.

 Aaron's book takes on a different approach from the one we are commonly used to (statistical data and description of  some of the causes and effects of this phenomenon) and in giving names and faces to some of the victims, based on his own incursions into the whole process of their rescuing , creates a closer bond between the reader and the victims (those who have been victimized and the ones to be) of this spreading "disease".

I have been wondering how aware of this phenomenon potential victims are in Cape Verde ...

Many factors concurr towards making these islands a safe haven for predators in search of "prey". It is obvious the increasing tourism co-habits with poverty and although there is some clear consciousness as to some of the disadvantages  thereto associated, such as prostitution, sexually transmitted diseases, drug use, etc., not to openly talk about this "new" issue is wrong.

Many of these "inexperienced" youngsters don't realise they can be lured into circumstantial traps regarding working, marrying, or fulfillment of their dreams  abroad ... (some of them already have).

Raising awareness is acting by anticipation ...

"Magic" Cordoba ...

These are some of the "jewels" of Cordoba I had the privilege of being "touched" by during my 5 day vacation last week. The city has a distinct "magic" which reflects the various  cultural influences it was subject to.

The Roman bridge and the Great Mosque of Cordoba (whose original construction was undertaken by Abd ar Rahman I in 785; having an extension been added by Abd ar Rahman II in 833 and additions by Abd ar Rahman III in 945; the Maqsura and the new Mihrab were built by al-Hakan II in 961 and the final extensions added by al-Mansur in 987) as seen from inside the Calahorra Tower (originally conceived at the Islamic period)

The doorway of the Holly Ghost on the western façade of the Mosque, which was totally restored at the beginning of the XX century by Professor Velasquez Bosco (Left). The Courtyard of the Orange Trees and theTower (after having had a second storey built onto the minaret in 1593 by Herman Ruiz, to which a third storey was to be later added), on top of which stands the Guardian Angel of the city of Cordoba, the Archangel Raphael, bearing the influence of the Sevillian late Renaissance (Right). 

 

View of the aisles of the Great Mosque belonging to the final extension carried out by al-Mansur (Left). View of the Christian Cathedral within the Great Mosque, whose building followed a permission granted by the Emperor Charles V to the Bishop Alonso Manrique, after the reconquest and subsequent christianisation of the Great Mosque. Works were intitated only in 1523 (Right)

The Mihrab of the Great Mosque, which became the symbolic doorway leading to heaven where the faithful directed their prayers (Left). The maqsurah precinct, reserved to the caliph's private prayer  within the Great Mosque (Left).

Details of the Cordoba Cathedral with the oval cuppola in the late Gothic transept (Left)

Mural paintings  in one of the many Chapels found in the Cathedral

Standing in front of the High Basilican Building of the Madinat  al-Zahra remains (erected as a whole palatial palace by Abd ar-Rahman on the hill of al-Arus just outside the city of Cordoba).

The gardens of the Royal Citadel of the Christian Monarchs, whose construction was ordered in 1328 by Alfonso XI (Left). One of the twelve courtyards within the Gardens of the Palace of Viana, a XVI Century noble Cordoban Mansion (Right).

Courtyard of the Hotel Posada de Vallina, where we stayed and which was built before the Great Mosque, having been occupied by the Alarifes, the Mosque builders and being also known for having lodged Cristobal Colon. It is possibly the oldest inn in Spain. (Left). La Caleja de las Flores (Right).

 

Murals within the XIII century Ferdina church of Saint Lawrence built in the  architectural style of the transition towards the Spanish Gothic.

Faye ...

Faye's first photographs (at the age of 8 months)

Like most mothers, as I looked at Faye and Mia  or held them in my arms as children, I  always felt they were the most beautiful  and "brightest" babies in the world  (in my world of affections) ... I really cherished every moment we spent together.

When Faye was born I was fairly young ...  and quite unaware of the real difficulties of being a mother ...  though committed to wanting to be the "best mother" ever ...

Have I been  what I had (so strongly) wanted to become? 
I don't know ..., but  what is it to be a good mother? ... There may be several definitions as to what it is (might be) ... but how can it be "measured"? ...

One thing I am sure of ... I was one of their best  "playground" companions ... I loved playing around in the parks  with them ... all year around ... and it wasn't only because of those precious nature surrounded moments ... but mostly because of the things we did and "discovered" together ...

As I look at Faye's expression and smile in these photographs ... I just wish she could be here ...  still (again) ... in my arms ... leaning against me ... holding her favourite toy ... holding me ... never to "part "...

"Remember me"...

The three of us together (last picture taken)

"You can shed tears that she is gone,
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see her,
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her only that she is gone,
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind,
be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what she'd want:
Smile, open your eyes, love and go on."

Note: Poem by David Harkins

The unregistered Postcrossing cards ...

  PT-115848

I have been a postcrosser for about a year and although I have only had three postcards unregistered until now, I feel these are entitled to having a wall of their own ... as the "rejected" ones, otherwise they will never be "exhibited" in any postcrosser wall or favourited by anyone ...

They were sellected with  utmost care ..., taking into account the interests and preferences of the persons I was sending them to ...; what  has happened after that ... I'll never know ...

PT- 101911

The first unregistered card  (PT -101911) depicting a René Lalique piece of jewellery in exhibition at the Gulbenkian Museum in Lisbon was sent to China (Rita Chou); the second one (PT-115848) sent to Thailand (Y_Ying) spoke of fado and the well known Portuguese fado singer Amália Rodrigues, whilst PT-124559 sent to the U.S.A. (azjanorama) was the reproduction of a watercolour by the Portuguese painter Alfredo Morais depicting the typical Northern villages of Portugal.

PT-124559

May they (now) be seen and "acknowledged" ... as having "overcome" the barriers of their unknown ... and undisclosed "fate"  ...

Note: The card PT-124559 was registered a few days after this article was written.