Raincoat, umbrella, gumboots/wellingtons. Today I will go shopping for these things, take the fight to the monsoon, now that we've moved to Godawari, up in the hills, with the leeches, the winding mountain pathways, the house that is half an hour's from the office where the school bus takes us and all of the circus kids to training.
So much to write about. Yesterday we were moved to Godawari, away from this office, away from NGOs, UN road-hog vehicles, pollution and the honks, away from money, away away. Up there, children come up to you, not to ask for money but out of sheer curiosity, and they giggle to each other and then run back to their parents, who are nearby, farming, cooking, washing, smiling.
A few days ago, we had a volunteer induction, and we were told that if we keep a personal blog, and if we write anything about the Esther Benjamin Trust in it, then we have to show it to the head of the organisation for approval before posting. On the same day, I found out lots of dubious things about the organisation, things I would love to write about, but which wouldn't go down so well. It has been almost impossible to write blogs since then. I'm still trying to decide whether to tell them anything about this blog, whether they'll find out anyway, I guess I need more time to know them better and see just how they'd react if I started talking about military connections and other such scary things
Thoughts, reports and images from a rather strange existence. I'll be mixing fresh entries with words found in piles of old visual art diaries. I'm still not sure if this was a good idea, putting up all of this stuff. Times long past intermingled with times just flown. The old entries were penned in my slow left-handed scrawl, the new entries hammered out by ten fingers. Does this affect the style and content?
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