Friends

Earlier this evening I walked past a house in which a friend of mine, Sultan, lived some er -it's hard to grasp-23 years ago. We were about 17 years old at the time or perhaps he was a few years older. His name was Sultan. A talended guy, with a lot going for him. His looks, his brains. He had a good sense of humor, he was articulate, he was lucky in love.

For a few years we shared an intense friendship. Long conversations about life and about love. It was a time that I will never forget, the time of experiencing first loves, first sexual encounters and forging one's identity.

I cared deeply for Sultan. We were friends, not lovers, but the friendship was extremely intense. One day, though, in winter, Sultan stepped in the ice-cold water of the sea. And kept walking.

He has been dead for some twenty years now. Like many of his friends and relatives I'm left with many questions, even after all that time. Could we have done something to help him? What would have become of him had he lived?

I am a mother now and it saddens me greatly that Sultan will never be a father. I sometimes see his father though, on his bike. It's a strange world.

The only thing left for me to do is remember Sultan, make sure to remember him, to keep the memories alive. Like Jacques Brel used to sing about his friend Jojo, six pieds sous terre, tu n'es pas mort.

Take the rough with the smooth

Working from home has many perks. I really relish being able to share many things with my son Thomas, in that way I feel as blessed as many a stay-at-home mum. I earn a very decent living and feel like a career woman at times, too. I carry out translation assignments in my own home, in a study that suits my tastes, in confy clothes, with music that I like as a backdrop.

But I do complain quite a lot about the pitfalls, I hate to admit. One of them is the fact that people (even those quite close to me, depressingly enough) do not always take my work seriously. Understandable in a way, they see me having coffee in town now and again when I have a break, they are not there to see me work till late at night in the weekends, which I also do on occasion. They do not see me struggle with my fluctuating income or with the renewal of an anti-virus programme on the computer. But I have resolved to take the rough with the smooth, what else can one do?

After all, I have never regretted my choice.

On being a mum

Yesterday I was feeling low, coming down with some kind of flue. Tired, feverish. I stayed at home watching telly, which is hardly the most inspiring way of spending one's Saturday. But what the heck...

I watched 'living with Fran', at a certain point Fran speaks to her son and he looks bemused. He asks 'do you want me to feel guilty or happy?', her answer: 'I am a mom, I want both'. It's hard to admit, but I sure know what she means...

Peace Palace

Last week I visited the Peace Palace here in The Hague together with my son's class, another class, a teacher and a few other moms. It was great to visit this famous building with the kids.
A young woman guided us along, providing lively explanations about the history of this building, in which the Permanent Court of Arbitration and the International Court of Justice are located.
It was a sligthly peculiar experience for me, as I have been at the Palace more than one for interpreting purposes. It was nice to be there in another 'role'.
We saw quite a lot of statues during our tour. One of Carnegie, one of Gandhi. As we walked along another statue, one of the little boys asked me 'is that Hitler?', I bit on my lip to refrain from laughing and said 'No, he did not contribute to world peace'. 'O, that's right', the boy answered, 'it was the other way round with him.' He probably understood more than I initially thought.
After the tour of the premises, we were treated to lunch, after which the children participated to a workshop on human rights. A fruitful day by all means.

Old footage on Sri Lanka

I haven't written anything in this blog for a long, long time and I apologize for that, as it defeats the purpose of having a blog in the first place.

Times have been hectic at home -both because of happy and sad events-and writing came second.
However, I am now following a writing course in Amsterdam, working on legal translations, having fun with Thomas and preparing myself for a change: two little puppies, named Laïka and Spike, are going to become part of the household soon.

Anyhow, I have just begun writing a story about Sri Lanka. A troubled country, which is very dear to me. I lived there in the 80s and have very fond recollections of the country. I am in the process of doing some research, both online and offline and stumbled across this video:

Nobody knows

Yesterday, the Japanese movie 'Nobody knows' was on Belgian television. A heart-wrenching movie about four children abandoned by their mother and living on their own in an apartment in Tokyo. Yuga Yagira, who played the eldest brother, rightly won an award for Best Actor in Cannes 2004 for his outstanding performance.

The movie is based on a true story and, as one can imagine, is not exactly a 'feel good-movie'. However, there are moments of happiness, even in the lives of these kids. Watching the movie, one easily 'becomes' the oldest brother, desperately trying to cope, trying to stay afloat. The responsibility he feels, the struggle, but also moment os fun with other children, the relief when there is a bit of money or some other stroke of luck.

The movie shows one thing extremely clearly: 'making' children is one thing, taking care of them quite another.

Book tip of the week

Although admittedly books are not the answer to every question in life, I believe great comfort can be found in them. Whether one is looking for escapism or learning, for thrills or handy hints, for beautiful pictures or beautiful turns of phrase.

My advice this week is:
Take a look at : What Would Budha Do at Work? By Franz Metcalf and BJ Gallagher Hateley, a book full of practical wisdom and inspiring quotes.

We all need new inspiration from time to time, and inspiration comes from many places. From other human beings and from nature, notably. But also, quite simply, from books.