Rain, rain, and more rain. Rain in my yard, rain in my house, rain in my clothes, and under my skin. February in Lala land is a time to reflect upon the abstract facets of life. Those that live inside the mind and are the only dry survivor in this world of wet. Write songs, read books, carve wood, and fend off imposhi. Imposhi are ants that swarm, eating everything in their path before passing on without a trace, covering the earth for less than a day before they themselves are swallowed into the great equatorial horizon. The ways to stop them are few: lines of cornmeal and/or ash and burning anything and everything. Unfortunately the rainy season makes the latter option near impossible to accomplish and in this corner of the world, ants move when the forest's table is set and the bounty of month long rain is on the plate. My host family used every option available to save ourselves and the livestock that forms a village bank account. Before my very eyes, a safe and pensive distance from the stings and bites, the reddish tide of ants turned aside, unable to cope with an unexplained line of cornmeal. They say it's old magic, I say thanks.
Life indoors also allows for plenty of chess, when the opponents are available. When they didn't find me I went and made a place to find them. Changilo Basic School now runs the meanest game around at weekly meetings of the Changilo Chess Club. Chess is considered part of elementary curriculum in several nations around the world due to its ability to expand the players' critical thinking capacity through regular play. I can tell you that after a few rough sessions, once the club really got into the swing of things, I stopped being able to win games and I take that to be a very good indicator of success.
The rain isn't all that bad after all and they say that it's going to end pretty soon. The bees are swarming, the fish are growing, and what few workshops don't get rained out, people really seem to enjoy. I even managed to get Changilo beekeeping off the ground with the help of a very dedicated local farmer. I still can't wait until I can get around again without arriving soaked and/or covered in mud, but before that day comes I will do what I can in the beautiful place I've come to call home.
Rain, rain, and more rain. Rain in my yard, rain in my house, rain in my clothes, and under my skin. February in Lala land is a time to reflect upon the abstract facets of life. Those that live inside the mind and are the only dry survivor in this world of wet. Write songs, read books, carve wood, and fend off imposhi. Imposhi are ants that swarm, eating everything in their path before passing on without a trace, covering the earth for less than a day before they themselves are swallowed into the great equatorial horizon. The ways to stop them are few: lines of cornmeal and/or ash and burning anything and everything. Unfortunately the rainy season makes the latter option near impossible to accomplish and in this corner of the world, ants move when the forest's table is set and the bounty of month long rain is on the plate. My host family used every option available to save ourselves and the livestock that forms a village bank account. Before my very eyes, a safe and pensive distance from the stings and bites, the reddish tide of ants turned aside, unable to cope with an unexplained line of cornmeal. They say it's old magic, I say thanks.
Life indoors also allows for plenty of chess, when the opponents are available. When they didn't find me I went and made a place to find them. Changilo Basic School now runs the meanest game around at weekly meetings of the Changilo Chess Club. Chess is considered part of elementary curriculum in several nations around the world due to its ability to expand the players' critical thinking capacity through regular play. I can tell you that after a few rough sessions, once the club really got into the swing of things, I stopped being able to win games and I take that to be a very good indicator of success.
The rain isn't all that bad after all and they say that it's going to end pretty soon. The bees are swarming, the fish are growing, and what few workshops don't get rained out, people really seem to enjoy. I even managed to get Changilo beekeeping off the ground with the help of a very dedicated local farmer. I still can't wait until I can get around again without arriving soaked and/or covered in mud, but before that day comes I will do what I can in the beautiful place I've come to call home.
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