Tuesday, April 21, 2015

I Won't Talk About it Anymore

I won’t talk about it anymore.

After today I won’t talk about the book I am writing, Song of Africa, until it is published then you will see rockets in midair. I hate it when authors promote themselves to the point of nausea.  I’m just saying the way it is, what I am doing, and where this particular life is going.

In doing research for this story, though, I found the vacation of my dreams. I have to show you.

I have for a long time wanted to go to Africa, but decided against it, figuring it would not be my fantasy, but a heartbreak I could do little about.  

Abraham keeps telling us that the world doesn’t need saving. Saving? Maybe not, but some of the things we are doing to it need to be stopped. Listen to your elder, get a grip, stop dinking with our food, our air, our environment, and the rabid use of chemicals. Move your bodies, eat good honest non GM foods, and not too much of it. Drink a little wine for your stomach’s sake. Celebrate every chance you get. Be grateful whether your glass is half full or half empty—you have a glass and something to put in it.

My soap box offering for the day.

Now back to my fantasy vacation. Its local is in Tanzania and it is a mobile camp operated ts owner—not many are in Africa. Alex Walker's original camp is open all year, but Walker moves his other tent-camps twice a year to follow the migration of the animals. Many hotels, and Safaris are corporate owned, some offer luxury beyond belief. Now, I tell you, I like luxury, but if I were to go to Africa, this one suits my fancy.

One might think that I got my fill of roughing it with Solar Power and generators living off the grid in Hawaii, and could not tolerate spending $800 a night living in a tent. Imagine though watching 1.8 million Wildebeests on migration. Imagine watching 500,000 Zebras trotting along behind, or experiencing the thrill of seeing a wild elephant meandering through camp…

They say at the end of their day Walker's guests, there are only about five tents, gather for a communal dinner--for people, like the animals they came to see, are a social group. At the dinner table the people share their stories. It is a re-living of events. It  makes their experience more vivid, and it is a way of processing the day.

That is what I am doing here. 

Okay, I’m out of here. I still have about 35,000 words to write. 

Now, that's my story, what's yours?