Sharing Thoughts

There are a lot of things that I feel are worth sharing in this world.
There are a lot of things that are worth listening to.
I hope that I can be a person that can spread the word about things that really are wonderful, breathtaking, thought provoking, challenging or just nice.

I need to start writing again.

なんか、この一週間は本当に素敵な時間を過ごせて、文章でまとめるのがもったいないかも。

でも、そのうち書きたいな。

今日は、昨日は？
家族とsee youをしました。

弟はアメリカでの新生活を初めに、

一番したの弟と両親はルワンダへ、

私は大学最後の一年を迎えるために日本へ。

家族で３大陸をカバーできてるっていう。

これは、単なる自慢ですね。

今萌はドーハ空港にいて、久しぶりに早いwifiを使ってるけど。きもちい〜〜〜。さっきこの夏からアメリカの神学校に行く（ほぼ）日本育ちのジョシュアと話してたけど、彼もこれから大変そう。アメリカの生活やアメリカの人とは離れて育ってきたのにバリバリ英語の名前を持ってる。アメリカでは日本語の名前使おうかなだって。確か日本語のなめはリョウだったと思う。（漢字は知らない。）

私も日本に帰ってすぐのころは（今でもそうだけど）、自分の名前のどっかにカタカナが入ってたら良いのに〜って思ってたな〜。　佐々木・クレアー・萌、みたいな。生活してる国で外国人として扱われるストレスはもちろんだけど、「この人は同じ国籍の人だ！」って決められると、それにはその国の人としての常識とか、責任とかがついてくる。

「え？さ・さ・き・も・え・さんですよね？」


アメリカに行く弟だけど、実はアメリカ出身でアメリカ国籍を持ってる。
だから、ある意味、彼がアメリカに行くのは帰国してるともいえるのかな。彼はアメリカに着いたらどう扱われるのかな。やっぱ外国人かな。

佐々木仁だけどね。

でも、正式にいうと仁・David・佐々木か。日本語より英語の方が上手だし、アメリカ人になるのかな。

なんで国籍ってこんなに自分にとって大切なのかな。

萌が一番嫌いな質問。　"Where are you from?" 「どこからきたんですか？」

そんなの知らないよ。

仁へ、
仁は外見や、学力や、国籍によって出来上がってんじゃない。
何で自分が自分なのか、もっと知ることのできる時になりますように。
　

Going to Lamu. On  little plane.

ルワンダに来てから一回もまともに寝てないかも。

なぜかというと。。。２１歳である私が、１９歳である弟とマットレスを分けないといけないから。それもリヴィングに毎晩運ばないと行けないマットレスを。

ありえない。

なのに一番したの１６の弟はぐーすか自分の部屋で自分のベッドで毎晩寝てる。

なんでじゃ！

１.　蚊帳のあるベッドじゃないと、蚊が多すぎて寝れない。

２.　家を引っ越してからはもう私と弟の部屋はない。

３.　一番したの弟は怖い。

でもこんな夜ももう最後になりました。

明日はルワンダを出て家族旅行へと行きます。

１週間の家族旅行では一人一ベッドあるのだろうか。

実家に帰るのっていいと思う。
ちょっとだけ現実と日常から離れるっていいと思う。
でも、やっぱり自分はここではないどこかで、ここではできないなにかをしていないといけないんだって分かるんだよね。

いつでも帰ってこられる。
でももう自分はここにはいられない。

またね。

The rain of Rwanda first arrives with the scent of dust, as it rises in the air. The cool damp breeze to announce the coming of heaven’s blessings rouse the red soil. The birds twitter and chirp in their frenzy of joy, and it arrives. The dust that tingled our noses has fallen from the air and along with it the sweet scent of the quenched earth rises. All is silent in the roar of the rain. The rumble of the tin roofs, the bowing of the branches. 

As suddenly as it came, it disappears. The first call of the perching bird, the thinning of the clouds. Rain is still heard in its pitter patter. The sun brightens as the veil of rain has been lifted from its way. 

All is bright and new once more.

It is mid morning and I have been dropped by my parents at a little coffee shop in the middle of Butare. The shop is barely decorated. An almost rusty hulk of a coffee roaster stands grandly, taking up the whole left side of the square room.

The walls on either side of the shop are painted a grass green. The uneven walls are frosted with brown cinnamon dust. The sky blue floor has bits and pieces pealing off, which reveals the grey cement underneath. The ceiling is a mustard yellow. The walls are simply decorated with three African masks here, a map of Rwanda there, and a framed poster named “The Coffee Taster’s Flavor Wheel”. It describes the various coffee adjectives used to depict the flavors and aromas of coffee. Dirt, Roasted, Earthy...

In the middle of it all, there is a little counter. With a little barista. With a little, but twinkling smile. 

The frankness and emptiness is filled with the rich, deep aroma of roasted coffee beans, refreshed every time the coffee beans are ground.  

The entrance side of the shop is where the sofas are placed. Three sofas: two one seater, one three seater. There are water buffalos and Masai and elephants printed on it. In fact, I seem to be sitting on top of two Maasai with their long sticks. Glad they are merely a print... I’m sure sitting on Maasai is less then comfortable, especially with their spears. The sofas all surround a low table covered with a leopard print cloth. This would all look like a frenzy of pattern and color if it were not for the over all coffee brown of the place. 

On the low table is a big note book. A hard cover. Worn out. It’s the same as the ones I used to use in junior high. The edges are red, from all the fingers covered with the red soil that must have flicked through the pages. Inside are happy words from people all over the world. “Hello from Australia” - Caleb, “Classic Coffee!” - TAC,Nigeria, “Keep up the sweet beans!” - Santa Cruz. “ありがとう, murakoze cyane.” - Yasu. 

As the day progresses the street a few steps below starts to come alive. The smooth groan of the car engines are joined with the chuckle chuckle of the pikis, all in time with the blaring radio from the store next door. 

5 to 11, I notice only now that the Quran, sung over crackling speakers a hill or two away has stopped. I’ve already consumed 3 cups of rich coffee. My head is buzzing. The colors of the shop seem a little brighter. Maybe I should go out for lunch.

I like this place. This little store, with no excess decorations, no fancy caffe latte designs, and no wifi. It’s a coffee shop made for the coffee it sells. 

So I figured its sometimes good to just write about nothing.

Today was a good day. I figured that one thing that there is plenty of in Rwanda is time.
I've been working on playing guitar, and I have the calluses on my fingertips to prove it. So much so that the mouse pad thing on my laptop doesn't recognize my finger as a finger.

Today was a little hotter than usual. Most days Butare, located in the southern province of Rwanda, has a nice breeze throughout the day, but not today. Spent half the day under the acacia tree in the back garden with my guitar, attempting to master at least one song on my guitar. The thing is, I get really bored with the songs... so I have to work on about 5 so that I don't get bored. It would explain why I'm not really improving.

Under the acacia tree, life was good. On the grass there were little ants, moving round as busy as ever. I wonder what they do all day.
My dog, the most spastic thing I know, lying in the sun like he had heat stroke.

So, this is another tangent.
There are so many flies in my ouse. Its crazy. And I found out why. There is a huge tree with amazing purple flowers in the front yard. I was standing under it this afternoon and heard like a constant buzzing... turns out its like hundreds of flies swarming around the flowers. I guess some of them find their way into my house... I swear they just buzz around to be annoying.

Another tangent. I swear all of these are somehow related in my mind. My brother has a really high body temperature. He is like,,, a walking talking central heating system. I have also come to find out that he is a mosquito repellant... well... more like a mosquito magnet. So much so that all the mosquitoes go to him. So bad for him. Good for me. As long as my brother is sitting next to me, I don't have to worry so much about being bitten and catching malaria.

Just a few minutes ago I found a mosquito on my brother's leg. (Right now we have to share a queen sized mattress in the living room coz we have guests over.) It was so big that I thought it was a mole... I don't think that the mosquito would have been able to fly with its stomach so full with blood. Anyway. I squashed it... and now I have my brothers blood on my hands.

Lastly. Today my cats seemed super cute to me. Though they, in nature are evil. Mostly because I'm allergic to them. But they are still so cute! More reason why they are evil. They make me wanna cuddle with them with their cuteness while making me sneeze, and itch, and get swollen and teary eyes.

Content.

Content.

Not that there isn't more to come.
Not that there hasn't been better.
Not that there hasn't been worse.

ここは人が豊かだ。笑顔がでかいし。声もでかい。

ものはなくても友がいる。仕事がなくても居場所はあり。

お金はなくても価値がある。

笑顔が薄くて、声はない。

物がなくては友もいない。

仕事がなくては意味がない。

お金がなくては価値がない。

人と笑顔と友と居場所。

物、仕事、お金。

何回萌は「またね」って言ってきたかな。次いつ会えるかも知らない人に。

何人に「またね」って言ったせいで「さようなら」が言えなかったのかな。

またねってなんだか無責任な言葉だよね。

今の別れを受け入れないで、その時のその人を認めない。

「さようなら」って次がなくて、これからがないように感じる。だから言いたくない。

でも、今までありがとう。今のこれがあってそれだけでも十分なんだって伝えられないまま自分の世界から消えちゃう人ってどれだけいるのかな。

萌はもっとちゃんと人にさようならを言いたいな。

言いたかったな。

"See you" 

There will be tomorrow.

You, and tomorrow.

But 

       Good Bye

                             is the only word 

                                                        that allows me to say all I need.

to you. 

tonight. 

5 years.

5 years I've spent apart with my family. 5 years I haven't been with my little brothers. 5years is a really long time. 5 years, I haven't been able to see my little brothers grow into men.

My brother is going to be baptized on Sunday.

I have no clue what his testimony is.

So much can happen in 5 years.

Cross Roads.

Lately when I write my words are bland. My writing is directionless. The flood of expression that once used to flow out from the tip of my pen has depleted to a formless trickle. It's a repetition of  writing, erasing, path searching.
Before when I wrote. it was more like a path making. I didn't stand on the cross roads, too afraid to pick which way to go. It was a path making; barging through the jungle to make a path to where ever i was headed.
Maybe the way I write is the same as the way I think.
Maybe right now, I7m too afraid to barge...
So I'm stuck at the cross road. Squinting at the horizon to try and find what it is that each path leads to.
All this squinting is making my eyes blur, and the only thing moving forward is time.

Japanese English

So... lately... I can't write in English...
Neither can I write in Japanese...
Maybe I can't write, because I'm starting to think in Japanese, the language that i haven't mastered.
My brain constantly gets blocked because thinking in Japanese is a rusty procedure that I haven't smoothed over...

I guess I just have to master Japanese.

blank words. frank beauty

When I write, my words are blank.

I try to write frankly but end up with meaningless sentences.

What I want to do is write about beautiful simplicity.

last day in Rwanda

I wonder how many more "last days" I'm going to have in Rwanda.
This probably isn't my last.
But leaving a place you love, leaving the people you love, and having to say "see you" when you don't really have the 100% certainty that you will again...
Sure does hurt enough to be the last.

A pinch of selfish

Perhaps I have this all wrong, and maybe you'll tell me I have it mixed up.
But I think true friendship needs a pinch of selfishness.

Break the rules a little to ask and hope for something you want in the other...even if you know it might be hard for the other to answer you.

To not be afraid to ask, coz you hope for a return.

But then again, you have to...
Give slack a little and give yourself out to answer the other.
To not be afraid to be asked, because if you have to... you can say no.

So I guess, if we all add a pinch of selfishness to friendship, it cancels out to make it all ok.

right?

efficient / hasty.......time consuming / leisurely

After 30 minutes, two old Toyota minivans and a life time worth of car fume you can reach a downtown high school on the outskirts of Kigali. The high school goes from morning till evening and consists of about 10 to 15 students crammed into a single room. In this tiny room about the size of my bed room, there are a few rows of poorly constructed benches where the students squeeze themselves into. There is one hand made black board, which is more grey than it is black, that stands a little crooked at the front of the room. 

I was asked to teach English there and during the first class I experienced quite a culture shock. Culture shock, not because the realities of the many people living in Rwanda were things I hadn't known, but because I had so gotten used to my smooth efficient life back in Japan.

 For the lesson, I had been given a work sheet and on it were vocabulary words such as washing machine, dryer, kettle, vacuum cleaner, and dish washer. One of the students, Jean Paul, being curious about all these objects asked me to explain each object.

"What is mashing machine?"
"That is a machine that washes clothes."
"What is dryer?"
"A dryer is a machine that drys your clothes."
Realizing his grammatical error and probably somewhat confused at the necessity of these machines, "What is a kettle?"
"A kettle is a machine that boils, makes water hot."
"What is a vacuum cleaner?"
"It cleans the floor. It takes away dust from your floor."
"What is a dish washer?"
"A machine that washes your dishes."
"Teacher? Is it true that people have one television for each person?"
"A lot of times yes. What do you do when you get home?"
"I help my mother make food. I eat. I sleep. I have no electricity at my home."

The more I explained each machine, the more stupid I felt telling them that people can be lazy enough to make these machines and find it a necessity.

I find it somewhat ironic how all these electronics are offered to us to simplify our lives and add leisure. But then again, going home, helping make dinner, eating, and sleeping, sounds perfectly simple to me. Maybe its the things that take more time than necessary, that makes us realize the importance of simple leisure.

coffee beans and cement rain

I like my coffee bitter and my rain sweet. 

Out on the porch with my mug of coffee, I would watch the rain fall hard on the orange soil. The dust that lingered in the air would drop to the damp earth, captured in the droplets of water. As the orange earth moistened, it turned to a rich dark red. The earth would darken as the leaves on the trees lighted with refreshing green. In a way to thank the heavens for the reviving rain, the earth would sweeten the air with its rich aromas. It filled my lungs, watered my mouth, and seeped into the core of my bones. The sweet scent of Africa is all you need with a cup of dark freshly grounded coffee. 

Here in Japan, I have the dark coffee from Rwanda... but only the cement rain to accompany it.

good byes and heart aches

Each good bye breaks hearts. <3<3<3
or perhaps...
                 its growing pains...

Coz the love that once sat right by
now squeezed itself tightly inside
that heart of yours...

You have to grow a little with each person you let into your heart.

goodbye,
            but welcome,
                              to my cozy comfy heart