Trifecta: Week Sixty-Nine
The Week’s Trifecta Challenge is to use the word Infect meaning :-
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to contaminate with a disease-producing substance or agent (as bacteria)
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to communicate a pathogen or a disease to
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of a pathogenic organism : to invade (an individual or organ) usually by penetration
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of a computer virus : to become transmitted and copied to (as a computer)
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contaminate, corrupt ‘inflated writing that infects such stories’
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to work upon or seize upon so to induce sympathy, belief, or support ‘trying to infect their salespeople with their enthusiasm.
in 33- 333 words …
I am on holiday in Brazil; don’t you know 😉 and 33 words will be my limit …
‘It did not take long for the Papaya to infect me and become part of my daily diet her in Rio. After only imported tasteless apples and soggy bananas in UK for weeks’.
100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups – Week 81
The unseasonable weather meant that we had to think carefully how we spent our holiday.Whether or not we need protection from the blazing sun or torrential rain. Raincoats or suntan lotion? In severe conditions we might need to stop what we are doing. In Rio de Janerio at this time people do just this, sensible Brazilians unlike foolish tourists remain out of the sun when it is high and hot and when it rains street life stops.
It seems inappropriate to put a humourous spin on this situation when people died yesterday in a landslide caused by a heavy rainstorm not so far from Rio.
Weekly Photo Challenge … Lunch
As I prepare for the Weekly Photo Challenge, I reflect back to our first day here in the casa da minha filha e filho-de-lei, Babilonia, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. It is Sunday, we arrived the previous evening when we had a happy and tearful reunion after a tumultuous journey over the last year.
And now Sunday morning we slip easily into a pleasant routine; with a tinge of Christmas, Easter, Mother’s Day, high days and holiday. Days that I had previously endured with a empty heart.
Now my heart is full to busting our at our first so called ‘breakfast.’ This is not an unfamiliar situation as mealtimes in our family home and abroad are considered a ceremony; the quality and quantity of the content is not so important; it is the ritual of sitting down that is fairly common.
Also it not important that sitting down is done at a regular time. So while it is a ‘meal’ it may not be at the traditional time and therefore the usual titles like breakfast , lunch, tea and dinner need not apply.
So back at the table our first meal together for more than a year. Except of course our ‘other’ meal alternative enjoyed with gusto on Skype at 4 hours apart; eating meals in a surreal mirror like image.
Now accumulating all the other missed ‘meals’ was some sparkling as you see and with punctuated with gifts from previous celebrations.
Followed by a tea making ceremony diligently practiced with new blends from our favourite supplier in UK. However, the Brazilian influences make the procedure problematic for instance the water temperature is more difficult to judge. So this delicate operation and deviation from subject as regards lunch can be discussed more fully with another prompt!
However the hunger pangs gave rise to yet another ritual or meal; call it as you will. This time it included a walk which is often a perfect prerequisite for a meal.
While the the previous meal had joined all meals around 10 am and included Brazilian Bubbles, smoked salmon, scrambled eggs, tofu, it resembled if in need of a name ‘brunch’
So the next meal came long after lunch and a little before English tea.
So I suggest that this meal without a name consisting of putanesca (cod balls),pastei/pasteis (fried pastry), pastei de camarão (fried shrimp pastries) caldinho de feijão (bean stew) Bohomia beer and jiló frito (fried jiló) is more representative of a snack!
So I have a dilemma there is no lunch !!
Today I learned that I grumble to much …
Today I learned that while I enjoy and take for granted reliable internet and WiFi connection in UK, here in Rio de Janeiro in particular Babilonia it is not so reliable. Then, while I was thrashing about and grumbling about the inconvenience caused and outspoken about my camera as I hung out of the bedroom window in an endeavour to speed up the ‘drop box’ procedure.
I was gently reminded that last year we had to take a precarious bike ride to Rio city centre to find WiFi. So we had already come along way from when I was only making a weekly post. Even with the inconvenience I will be able to post daily I hope.
However, I did notice and found rather more alarming that I while I am spending time either taking photos, grumbling about the problems or indeed just planning the daily posts I am missing life
For instance this morning while I ‘faffed’, the family watched an aptly named charm of hummingbirds in this tree that grows in a little space near the ‘outer’ door of my daughter’s home. Not so charming for me it seems.
I am wondering what these trees are called and hoping that while I can share daily some thoughts and an image or two. I will be forgiven for not dwelling too much on the detail. I will not I hope be ready to grumble about the rather insignificant failures of my otherwise very comfortable and beautiful holiday home.
Silent Sunday
Saturday … before I go one more thing
Since my daughter has been living in Brazil and it is becoming her home. I have thought long and hard as to how I should best address this. The findings after such thinking sessions could fill a book. The mind rather than cooled and refreshed is fast and furious. So thinking is best left undone.
And doing is best; so as I depart on my journey to Brazil, I will share this thought and action with you.
I have tried to refine my thoughts ( in light of the aforementioned dilemma) when learning about my daughter’s new home and its culture. One way is to look at its feminine and female aspects. So when I look at things such as poetry I can narrow the scope. I write a little, but like a lot of things I do it rather badly, so I prefer to look to the experts.
One such expert is Cecilia Meireles; my daughter and I get much pleasure from reading her works. Me, in translation and my daughter is usually the provider of the translation.
During this time you might have noticed I have taken up printmaking. It has become a joy and I am an expert in the minor field of printmaking with erasers. My daughter who recently sent me this poem, has not yet learned this skill yet and uses these rather clumsy uppercase prints (as I do at times).
Although these are not aesthetically pleasing yet; it is something I plan to work on in the coming weeks when I return from Brazil and the above mentioned ‘thinking’ sessions become too hard to bare.
So watch this space or not, if you prefer the finer arts … and the experts!
Trifextra: Week Fifty-Nine
This weekend we’ are required to write exactly 33 words inspired by the following photo.
The little boy seemingly perturbed by the increasing mist; leapt the glassy puddles to where his mother stood. The girl stooped to search for the coin she’d seen glinting in the half light.
Friday’s Library Snapshot … Robinson Crusoe
Here at the Special Collections we have a collection of a little under 2000 editions and retellings of Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe. Some dating back the middle 18th century. It is being added to, catalogued, well cared for and frequently referred to. However it is a poor relation to some of the other collections that are perhaps more academically or widely promoted.
So today I celebrate the life and surprising adventures of Robinson Crusoe, of York, a mariner : who lived for 28 years alone on an uninhabited island, off the coast of America, near the mouth of the great river of Oroonoque. He was the only survivor when his ship was wrecked on the rugged coast; he tells how he was strangely rescued by pirates.
Images from
The life and adventures of Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe, now first correctly reprinted from the original edition of 1719 with introduction by William Lee and illustrations by Ernest Griset (c1800)
Robinson Crusoe in words of one syllable by Mary Godolphin (1868)
The life and strange surprising adventures of Robinson Crusoe of York Mariner written by Daniel Defoe, illustrations by E. McKnight Kauffer; text edited by Kathleen Campbell. (1929)
It has not gone unnoticed that there are some illustrators mentioned that deserve more than a name … E McKnight Kauffer is known for his posters for Shell and the London Underground, I have yet to discover the illustrator for Mary Godolphin’s edition. Ernest Grisit was a French children’s illustrator highly regarded by Walter Crane. So I am not without research material for the next few weeks.
Alphabe Thursday … Q is for o que dizer and other questions.
On Saturday I go to Brazil as if you didn’t know. I often wonder how this all happened. I was just a mum doing as mums do in my neighbourhood; not to far away, so I could attend to my child’s needs. I had no great ambition to travel the world. Although our annual holidays had become a little more adventurous since the children had grown up and we had a little more money and time to ourselves.
Now I find myself with a child and her ‘other’ family in Brazil and destined to stay for a while. I have become an international commuter … with delight. I would not change a thing except I do have one slight regret. While I am a champion of dead languages; I am a failure as regards modern tongues. So when I travel I become a gibbering idiot; my daughter and I have to change roles. It is me who retorts like a dripping tap ‘ What is that?’ ‘Why is this?’ ‘How far is it?’ ‘Are we there yet?’
que, qual, o que, quem
Wednesday’s Wise Woman … Meena Keshwar Kamal
Meena Keshwar Kamal (1956-1987) in 1977 while student at Kabal University, Meena founded the Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan. (RAWA) It was formed to promote the equality and education of women and girls and give a voice to the deprived and silenced women of Afghanistan. Women and girls had no human rights. They were discouraged from going to school and to find employment. All homes where females lived had the the windows blackened. While outside women were expected to be completely covered by a burqa with only a small opening to see through and to breath. If she became unwell she could not see a male doctor and therefore go without medical care and medicine. Already her basic human rights are being refused.
Afghani women could not wear fashionable shoes or brightly coloured nail varnish. They were not able to perform or listen to music, watch the television, go to the cinema or even laugh. Any violations of these so called laws were harshly punished. The situation got worse when the Taliban took power and any ‘action’ of women was cruelly and quickly ‘outlawed’.
Even though the Taliban is no longer in power the present government has done little to protect women and girls. Girls have been able to return to school but their schools have been systematically burned down by marauding Taliban.
Back in the 1970s although the women were not so badly treated they still did not have equal opportunities to men. The RAWA went some way to address this; by helping women in Afghanistan and Pakistan; the organisation provided a good education for girls and women.
Meena was in no doubt that her life and those she helped were at risk of their life.
Meena was assassinated in 1987, it is told by the Afghan Intelligence Service (KHAD) However even after her death the work of the RAWA continues in secret.
In Afghanistan there are many secret schools and orphanages in the homes of the RAWA members; teachers, doctors and nurses put their lives at risk working for the betterment of Afghan women and girls.
Coat Hanger Doll's House 