first letter

September 27, 2006
Dearest D,

I have been putting off writing to you for months now and finally decided to sit myself down and write before doing anything else.

A group of elephants paraded through the garden again yesterday. I am beginning to get the message; no garden will ever survive here. If it is not elephants, it’s hippos grazing at night, or bush pigs getting to the veggie garden, or something else. I will try to maintain a lawn in as much as it is possible. For the rest, I guess giving up is the only option.

At least the big marula tree is somewhat safe. Delicious is on the swing I managed to get up in the tree. He is making notes for his new performance. Thinking of going back to the city for a couple of months early next year to get it onto stage. I think after the success of the last two shows it won’t be too hard to get support from one of the theatres.

He still seems to be in demand, even though we are living out here, miles away from anything resembling what we came to accept as regular and took for granted.

I was worried that we were not going to adapt well, but all seem to be fine.

Even if, I must admit, the silence becomes a bit devastating at times and I miss the sounds I still associate with the house in the city. I particularly miss the pigeons that nested in the oak tree in spring. I often find myself wishing for the sound of a police siren, or the booming of some kid’s car stereo blowing down the street. And of course, there are no street parades.

All the sounds that I held so dear has now been replaced by silence, mostly. Especially during the day it can get hauntingly quiet. It is at dusk that the noises fill the atmosphere. Jackals and hyenas, bush babies and night owls. In the early morning I sometimes wake up from the watery braying of zebras and grunts of wildebeest by the hippo pool.

When the silence becomes too much for us we listen to Cibo Matto, Sci-fi Wasabi is our current favorite. We generally do a lot of silly jumping around and afterwards we crash down on the floor, out of breath, feeling that for a moment we were back in our ‘old’ world.

I have not been writing at all since we moved here. Whereas Delicious seems to be finding creative encouragement, I am in a bit of lull. I have tried on several occasions to jot down some ideas. But nothing came. I’m not too worried though. I am finally coming to terms with the idea that I do not have to turn out a new piece every two years. Maybe the next one will take me a good couple of years.

Delicious tells me to take my time and for a change I will agree with him. Who knows what will come of it if I just let go.

I guess I can say that so far letting go has done us good. As I said, Delicious is busy with ideas and for myself, well. I will get over my gardening ambitions and the writing will come when the time is ready.

When will you be in the country again? You know that you now have a bed out here in the great ‘unfamiliar’ and you are welcome to come visit anytime. Delicious says he longs for your company. The same goes for me.

Send my love to that other great city I love so much.

B