I suppose it's sad but I couldn't help laughing while listening to the BBC this morning. A famous UK singer (whom I'd never heard of) has died in his 50s. The news reader said people would remember him for his well known song, "Mirror in the bathroom." I thought, "If the song's anything like the way I look in the mirror first thing in the morning, then it's going to be a pretty morbid song. The "Arts Hour" was from London. It's a public programme with an audience and a panel and they talk about the arts scene in London and other cities around the world. They always have singers and song writers on the programme but today it was like listening to something from another planet. They talked about all sorts of music styles that I'd never heard of - Grime, MC etc. When I listened to some of it I decided I was glad I lived on another planet.
It's interesting how we can be dead against something. In the 60s I was dead against beards. I used to think that the beard was hiding something - maybe a weak chin. Now I'm dead against tattoos. In my early days it was only service men who had a mother, girlfriend or wife tattooed on an arm. Now they crawl all over the place. A couple of years ago I was in Pattaya in Thailand and I couldn't enjoy the beach because of all the bare skin that was covered with enormous tattoos. Here, the older Khmer men sometimes have tattoos but they are delicate, filigreed things based on protection by spirits. Some of the younger city boys have them but it's nothing compared to the foreign population who are lathered with them. I met a Cambodian lad who had a rather big tattoo and he said it cost $100 and took 7 hours. A Canadian friend said it would have cost $700 in Canada. People must be walking around with a fortune on their bodies. Anyway, it's not my body and it's not my money so I should stop harping on about it.
With the three lads across the road being hooked on gaming I've also decided to take a negative attitude towards the pastime - or job in some cases. Today my attitude changed a tiddly bit when I listened to a Norwegian man talk about his son who had a very rare muscular disease that eventually killed him in his early 20s. The boy got into a game called World of Warcraft and spent most of his time playing the game alone in his room. His parents thought he wasn't having a life as he was in a wheelchair and couldn't do much for himself. When he died, hundreds of people came to the funeral and he got even more emails from those who couldn't be there. Apparently, the lad had developed all these friendships playing the game. He'd created a hero character that was kind, compassionate etc and he was loved by so many people. I'm still fearful of gaming for young people but I can now see it has a good side.
I couldn't think of what to do today, with there being no power, so I typed some of my Nigerian diary. It's fascinating re-living the old days. I'm glad that I remember a lot of it. Today I typed a list of the Canadians, who came to Nigeria with World University Service of Canada in the early 1980s and what was happening to them; the list had over twenty names and the people had all left for various reasons. Some people couldn't stand Nigeria while some were kicked out. One teacher from Saskatchewan was giving out Bibles in a Muslim school. This was in 1982 so I am impressed with myself as I managed to survive until 1984 and then I left on my own accord. The problems we faced with corruption, cheating, disappearing teachers etc are amazing and also how we managed to enjoy being there - at least I did.
This morning I plugged in my phone and iPad and I was glad I did as the power went off part way through our English class. It was funny because the three of us suddenly felt hot and we all looked up at the non-whirring fan at the same time. The lads were obviously suffering, wafting themselves with their exercise books, so I sent them back to the office. Phearak's lucky as he's a messenger and is often out on his motorbike delivering travel documents. He stayed awake today; it was interesting because he came before he had lunch.
It was about 35C inside the apartment so I decided to plonk myself in a chair on the balcony. It was 37C there but it faces north so the heat didn't feel too bad. I kept looking into the living room to see if the fan was moving and it finally came on at 6pm. Just in time to heat up some dinner.
