32 degrees C inside, the desk is burning hot,
only ice on my foot keeps the pain away, the
building is heating up - an Apocalypse without
violence, just a quiet insistence on heat as my
African colleagues do not have a problem with
this, they love it and wonder why perspiration
runs down my face, I'm as red as a char
Then a feeling of camaraderie hits me, we in
the trenches fighting against the incompetents
who run the building, excited I spray water all
over, to suffer as a group creates a bond and
I'm glad to be here - to rest my foot on frozen
water bottles, some administrate & I translate
letters to the President, it's so good to feel
This unity, seeing how the challenges reveal
character; I failed by giving in to despair and
could only improve after eating a mountain of
chocolate, salty popcorn and crisps; so let it
be known my character has been revealed
as being dismal until food in overpowering
quantities have been consumed, I shudder
To admit I'm a glutton - though my colleagues
know it already with me munching continuously
as if my life depended on it…
[6 January 2015]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
we all try to fill a bottomless pit it various ways before I eat a bite I like to think of all the cooperation it took to get that morsel in my hand starting from Sun, dirt, water, farmers, harvesters, sellers, manufactures, bakers, delivery, stocking, selling, preparing at home, sharing, consuming, returning to earth... it puts spirituality and gratitude into food and eating for me