My Mozambique trip has ended. I thought to review some things and clear up some confusions that a certain travel guide, Lonely Planet, gave some of my fellow travellers regarding price.
R250 bus ticket from Midrand to Maputo
Maputo:
BEST place to stay is The Base Backpackers - the nicest people, friendly helpful and you meet very nice people there (a few of whom travelled with me all the way to Vilanculo)
Dorm price: 350 Mt (divide it by four to get rands). Only 6 beds per dorm.
600 Mt in total to get to chappas leaving spot (chappas are mini bus taxis), ad then chappa to Tofo.
Tofo:
Fatima's nest is way over priced and over-rated. And the dorms are dark. Dorm price 500 Mt. Camping is supposedly 150 Mt but on arrival my friends from Maputo found it to be 350 Mt.
For dorms rather go to John's Spot. A small place, lovely bright airy rooms with only 4 beds to a dorm, as opposed to Fatima's with 16.
30 Mt chappa to Inhambane 915Mt for person, 15 Mt for bag)
Inhambane:
Pencao Pechica (Hotel Pechica). 400 My a dorm. Decent. There is another backpackers that charges 350 Mt. I had walked all the way to Pencao and it was hot and I was only staying on night and it was very close to the ferry that we had to take to get to Maxixe to get to Vilanculo.
Ferry to Maxixe: 10 Mt. Chappa to Vilanculo including bag: 250 Mt. But other people got them down to 225 Mt
Vilanculo:
For dorms take Zombie Bananas. 50 Mt more expensive than Vilanculo backpackers but it is worth if for the light open rooms and nice setting. Vilanculo bpackers is well old, dark and in the middle of nowhere. So dorms at Cucumbers 400 Mt.
For camping go to Josef e Tina. Next door to Cucumbers, it is 150 Mt including breakfast (a breadroll, jam, butter, coffee and tea.
Beira bus (for Chimoio we get off at Inchope junction) heading to Chimoio. Leaves at 4am. Costs 450 Mt (100 Mt more if you dot want to sit with you bag on your lap, or between your legs etc). About 40 Mt from Inchope to Chimoio.
Chimoio:
Pink Papaya dorms are 400 Mt. I dodnt stay there, they were fully booked. I stayed at Hotel Madrinhia, 250 Mt a night for a room. HORRIBLE ablution at back of shabeen so noisey until after 12 midnight. But an experience none-the-less and cheap for one night stay.
Bus to Tete: 300 Mt leaving at 4am
Didnt stay in Tete. Went straight through to Zobue, the border to Malawi. That chappa ride cost me, 100 Mt for person, 50 Mt for bag.
NOTE: all buses leave from a place in the city called Mercado Municipal.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Laurentina, mosquito nets and fishing
Ola, boa a tarde amigos and amigas. Esta bom ou Mocambique.
I am half way through my trip in Mozambique. I will give you a brief breakdowm of how long the trip has taken me:
- about 20 hours of travelling from Midrand in Gauteng to Maputo in Mozambique
- I spent 2 days in Maputo. A busy city, diry unfortunately, but fun none-the-less
- 8 hours chappa ride (a chappa is a taxi, a minibus taxi) to Inhambane (but we could take it all the way to Tofo as well so I went there and spent a day there
- 30 min ride from Tofo to Imbambane, where I spent the afternoon and early morning there.
- a 4 hr chappa ride from Inhambane to Vilanculo, where I currently am.
This is what lies ahead:
1. 7/8/9 hours ride from Vilanculos to Chimoio, on the Beira bus. I will get off at the Inchope intersection and take a chappa to Chimoio.
2. From Chimoio, well, I am not 100% sure how long it will take me to Tete, maybe the same time as Inhambane to Vilanculo. Maybe more...
3. Then from Tete to the Malawian border (closest to Blantyre) is 7 hrs. There I will stay at the border towm, or if I can get to Blantyre, then there, I will stay the night and continue to Lilongwe.
If I leave on Monday, travel for the day, spend a day in Either Chimoio or Tete and travel on alternative days, I should have another 5 days of travelling. SO will get to Lilongwe this coming Friday or Saturday.
Now that these technicalities are taken care of, lets get down to some juicey tales.
Nothing really much happened in Maputo. Oh wait! I caught the ferry to Catembe (there are many rivers to cross in Mozambique), with a Canadian lady, Chris and we walked on the beach, drank coffee and ended up at the market where we ate feijoadas (beans) and rice. Divine. And drank one of Mozambiques famous beers, Laurentina (it is so great having this beer as a reference point. Observe: Ola, tudo bem - how are you - chamo-me Lauren - my name is Lauren. And then there follows the person trying to pronounce my name. Or sometimes there follows a blank stare. And then I say, or if I have the bottle I show, like the beer but without "tina"). The young woman, Locai, who owned the shop loved the fact that we were eating at her shop. Exchanged numbers with us and made plans to meet us in Maputo the next day. She met us the next day, ate something with us. She spoke very little English, we spoke some portuguese (Chris was good at it)
Some piece of artwork in the streets of Maputo
Tofo was relaxing, if way over priced as it is a very touristy area. Good sea swimming, good sea walks.
Inhambane (pronounced n-yam-ban-e)was delightful. Not a huge amount to do if you need a lot of stimulation but it is a wonderfully calming place to live and that night we were there, I drink 2M beer (pronounced dosh-em) while sitting on the wall as the sun set behind us.
A young boy outside the old mosque in Inhambane
So I feel it impotant to talk a little bit about beer. I dont like beer generally. Yes if it is boiling hot and the beer is icey cold, it is fantastic. To have a sit or three. But there is something about beer in Mozambique. It just slides down your gullet so well. And it is icey and it is homid here and often the glasses are also chilled well and well, it is just good.
So Inhambane is the place to retire in, I have decided.
The ride from Inhambane consided of a ferry to Maxixe (pronounced masheesh) and a heated debate with a chappa driver about how much he was going to charge us from Maxixe to Vilanculo. in Maputo I met a lady from Finland and we travelled to Tofo and then Inhambane and then Vilanculo together. In the chappa to Vilanculo we were so bored we ate pretty much the whole time.
In Mozambique, tangerines (naartjies), bananas, roasted peanuts, roasted cashews, pau (pronounced pauing, the staple bread of Moz) and boiled eggs can be found EVERYWHERE. I have over indulged on cashews and peanuts.
And now Vilanculo.
This morning I went for a walk/run on the beach. In this escapae, I found fishermen, and fishermen's friends and sisters and brothers, all pulling a rope out of the sea. This is how it went. they'd grab te rope and walk slowly up the beach, pulling the rope behind them. When a person got to the top they'd drop the rope and go to the front and start pulling again. I walked/ran passed them. Then decided to return to my backpackers. but then on the spur of the moment I asked the fisher people if I can help pull. Oh my word, maybe an hour and a half later we finished. I was shuffled from the rope-out-pulling, to the boat where I had to wind the rope onto the floor, back to pulling the last of the net out. I was given 6 fish as a thank you. Bless them. The one lady wound them onto a piece of reed anad I carried my fish home.
on the way, I bumped into 3 artists who asked if tey could buy my fish. I "sold" 3 of the fish for 10 Metecaish and a coconut. On my way from them I found a stall selling naartjies and I used my 10 Mt to buy 5 of them. And then armed with fish, naartjies and conocut I went to Josef and Tina camping, where Hanna (Finland) and Miles and Jess (Uk and USA) were camping, and the owners there quickly braai-ed the fish and we ate some pau, fish, tangerines, cononut and paw-paw.
I think I might go fishing again tomorrow. If my hands are usable tomorrow - the rope was wet, rough and covered in sand.
I wont lie, the sight of the fish flapping there was a bit disturbing... especially one type of fish that was quite beautiful to watch as they swam (I secrectly released on back into the surf). I thanked their souls for giving themselves to be eaten.
Oh yea, mosquito nets... I always have such issues with them!! The first night with a mosquito net (provided by the backpackers) saw me wake up twisted in it. The second night it kept on slipping off the bed post and covering my face in bustly smelling net. I swore.. I once almost fell off my bed trying to sort it. Here, in Vilanculos, the nets are beautiful to sleep under.
The view from my bed, on the floor, through my mozzie net, to the other beds
Ate logo (see you later)
I am half way through my trip in Mozambique. I will give you a brief breakdowm of how long the trip has taken me:
- about 20 hours of travelling from Midrand in Gauteng to Maputo in Mozambique
- I spent 2 days in Maputo. A busy city, diry unfortunately, but fun none-the-less
- 8 hours chappa ride (a chappa is a taxi, a minibus taxi) to Inhambane (but we could take it all the way to Tofo as well so I went there and spent a day there
- 30 min ride from Tofo to Imbambane, where I spent the afternoon and early morning there.
- a 4 hr chappa ride from Inhambane to Vilanculo, where I currently am.
This is what lies ahead:
1. 7/8/9 hours ride from Vilanculos to Chimoio, on the Beira bus. I will get off at the Inchope intersection and take a chappa to Chimoio.
2. From Chimoio, well, I am not 100% sure how long it will take me to Tete, maybe the same time as Inhambane to Vilanculo. Maybe more...
3. Then from Tete to the Malawian border (closest to Blantyre) is 7 hrs. There I will stay at the border towm, or if I can get to Blantyre, then there, I will stay the night and continue to Lilongwe.
If I leave on Monday, travel for the day, spend a day in Either Chimoio or Tete and travel on alternative days, I should have another 5 days of travelling. SO will get to Lilongwe this coming Friday or Saturday.
Now that these technicalities are taken care of, lets get down to some juicey tales.
Nothing really much happened in Maputo. Oh wait! I caught the ferry to Catembe (there are many rivers to cross in Mozambique), with a Canadian lady, Chris and we walked on the beach, drank coffee and ended up at the market where we ate feijoadas (beans) and rice. Divine. And drank one of Mozambiques famous beers, Laurentina (it is so great having this beer as a reference point. Observe: Ola, tudo bem - how are you - chamo-me Lauren - my name is Lauren. And then there follows the person trying to pronounce my name. Or sometimes there follows a blank stare. And then I say, or if I have the bottle I show, like the beer but without "tina"). The young woman, Locai, who owned the shop loved the fact that we were eating at her shop. Exchanged numbers with us and made plans to meet us in Maputo the next day. She met us the next day, ate something with us. She spoke very little English, we spoke some portuguese (Chris was good at it)
Some piece of artwork in the streets of Maputo
Tofo was relaxing, if way over priced as it is a very touristy area. Good sea swimming, good sea walks.
Inhambane (pronounced n-yam-ban-e)was delightful. Not a huge amount to do if you need a lot of stimulation but it is a wonderfully calming place to live and that night we were there, I drink 2M beer (pronounced dosh-em) while sitting on the wall as the sun set behind us.
A young boy outside the old mosque in Inhambane
So I feel it impotant to talk a little bit about beer. I dont like beer generally. Yes if it is boiling hot and the beer is icey cold, it is fantastic. To have a sit or three. But there is something about beer in Mozambique. It just slides down your gullet so well. And it is icey and it is homid here and often the glasses are also chilled well and well, it is just good.
So Inhambane is the place to retire in, I have decided.
The ride from Inhambane consided of a ferry to Maxixe (pronounced masheesh) and a heated debate with a chappa driver about how much he was going to charge us from Maxixe to Vilanculo. in Maputo I met a lady from Finland and we travelled to Tofo and then Inhambane and then Vilanculo together. In the chappa to Vilanculo we were so bored we ate pretty much the whole time.
In Mozambique, tangerines (naartjies), bananas, roasted peanuts, roasted cashews, pau (pronounced pauing, the staple bread of Moz) and boiled eggs can be found EVERYWHERE. I have over indulged on cashews and peanuts.
And now Vilanculo.
This morning I went for a walk/run on the beach. In this escapae, I found fishermen, and fishermen's friends and sisters and brothers, all pulling a rope out of the sea. This is how it went. they'd grab te rope and walk slowly up the beach, pulling the rope behind them. When a person got to the top they'd drop the rope and go to the front and start pulling again. I walked/ran passed them. Then decided to return to my backpackers. but then on the spur of the moment I asked the fisher people if I can help pull. Oh my word, maybe an hour and a half later we finished. I was shuffled from the rope-out-pulling, to the boat where I had to wind the rope onto the floor, back to pulling the last of the net out. I was given 6 fish as a thank you. Bless them. The one lady wound them onto a piece of reed anad I carried my fish home.
on the way, I bumped into 3 artists who asked if tey could buy my fish. I "sold" 3 of the fish for 10 Metecaish and a coconut. On my way from them I found a stall selling naartjies and I used my 10 Mt to buy 5 of them. And then armed with fish, naartjies and conocut I went to Josef and Tina camping, where Hanna (Finland) and Miles and Jess (Uk and USA) were camping, and the owners there quickly braai-ed the fish and we ate some pau, fish, tangerines, cononut and paw-paw.
I think I might go fishing again tomorrow. If my hands are usable tomorrow - the rope was wet, rough and covered in sand.
I wont lie, the sight of the fish flapping there was a bit disturbing... especially one type of fish that was quite beautiful to watch as they swam (I secrectly released on back into the surf). I thanked their souls for giving themselves to be eaten.
Oh yea, mosquito nets... I always have such issues with them!! The first night with a mosquito net (provided by the backpackers) saw me wake up twisted in it. The second night it kept on slipping off the bed post and covering my face in bustly smelling net. I swore.. I once almost fell off my bed trying to sort it. Here, in Vilanculos, the nets are beautiful to sleep under.
The view from my bed, on the floor, through my mozzie net, to the other beds
Ate logo (see you later)
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
You are as strong as your strongest part
The Farewell
"...And facing the people he said:
People of Orphalese, the wind bids me leave you. les hasty am I than the wind, but I must go.
We wanderers, ever seeking the way, begin no day where we ended another day; and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us.
Even as the earth sleeps we travel.
We are the seeds of the tenacious plant, and it is in our ripeness and our fullness of heart that we are given to the wind and are scattered...
... if aught I have said is truth, then truth shall reveal itself in a clearer voice, and in words more kin to you thoughts...
...You have been told that, even like a chain, you are only as strong as your weakest link. But this is but half the truth. You are also as strong as your strongest link.
To measure you by your smallest deed is to reckon the power of the ocean by the frailty of its foam. To judge you by your failures is to cast blame upon the seasons for their inconsistency.
...even like asn ocean, you cannot hasten your tides. And like the seasons you are also. And though in your winter you deny your spring, Yet spring reposing within you, smiles in her drowsiness and is not offended.
I speak only to you in words of which you yourself know in thought. And what is word knowledge but a shadow of wordless knowledge?
..whenever you pass by a field where you have laid your ancestors look well thereupon, and you shall see yourselves and your children dancing hand in hand. Verily you often make merry without knowing.
...For this I bless you most:
You give much and know not what you give as all.
Verily the kindness that gazes upon itself in a mirror turns to stone. And a good deed that calls itself by tender names becomes the parent to a curse.
...it is with this belief and this knowledge that I say, You are not enclosed in your bodies, nor confines to houses or fields. That which is you dwells above the mountains and roves with the wind.
It is not a thing that crawls into the sun for warmth or digs holes into the darkness for safety, But a thing free, a spirit that envelopes the earth and moves in the ether.
It this be vague words, then seek not to clear them. Vague and nebulous is the beginning of all things, but not their end... Life, and all that lives, is conceived in the mist and not in the crystal.
And who knows but a crystal is mist in decay?
...That which seems most feeble and bewildered in you is the strongest and most determined. Is it not your breath that has erected and hardened the structure of your bones?
...Could you but see the tides of the breath you would cease to see all else...
But you do not see, nor do you hear, and it is well.
the veil that clouds your eyes shall be lifted by the hand that wove it, And the clay that fills your ears shall be pierces by those fingers that kneaded it.
And you shall see.
And you shall hear.
Yet you shall not deplore having known blindness, nor regret having been deaf.
For in that day you shall know the hidden purpose in all things, And you shall bless darkness as you would bless light.
{Quietly my captain waits, has waited, until I am ready to leave now}
A little while, a moment of rest upon the wind, and another woman shall bear me
~excerps from The Prophet by Kalil Gibran
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Columbian Hypnosis
Eventually proof that the reading club does in fact happen at the Irene Library every Thursday and a demonstration of what Columbian Hypnosis looks like:
*please excuse my voice at the beginning, one of the littlest participants wanted to know when the ice cream was coming!
On Saturday the 18th I leave. Yesterday was my "farewell" and I am overwhelmed by the love and blessings of safe travels that I received.
Also, I want to wish my friend Levanya well in her new job and relocation to Cape Town!
And so, if I do not write again before I leave then everyone, just know, on the night of the 18th I shan't be lonely. On the contrary, I will be at a artsy jazz evening at an old converted train station in Maputo!
*please excuse my voice at the beginning, one of the littlest participants wanted to know when the ice cream was coming!
On Saturday the 18th I leave. Yesterday was my "farewell" and I am overwhelmed by the love and blessings of safe travels that I received.
Also, I want to wish my friend Levanya well in her new job and relocation to Cape Town!
And so, if I do not write again before I leave then everyone, just know, on the night of the 18th I shan't be lonely. On the contrary, I will be at a artsy jazz evening at an old converted train station in Maputo!
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Parkour and ballet?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iAPSZquqOKs
I missed the photo shoot unfortunately... but I wanna dooooo parkour ;) Hmmmm, I wonder how this can be fitted into my interest in urban dancing and urban youth culture? It is after-all urban running!
The music does it for me!
I missed the photo shoot unfortunately... but I wanna dooooo parkour ;) Hmmmm, I wonder how this can be fitted into my interest in urban dancing and urban youth culture? It is after-all urban running!
The music does it for me!
Saturday, June 4, 2011
The final count-down. And feminism...
Dear all followers of my African Walkabout
In approximately 10 days I will be leaving for my trip. As a precursor to my trip, I went to an African week celebration where we were treated to performances of Ndebele dances, Ghanaian drumming, Shangaan dancing and praise and performance poetry. As part of the evening, we we asked to dress up. I swathed myself in scarves and painted my face in a Nigerian inspired pattern.
To the left, me, to the right, my inspiration (ref: superstock.com). I am however, uncertain about from which group of people this face painting originates. But for the sake of learning something new, I will talk about face painting on women (there is face painting for men as well !).
On the other hand, face painting may also be done to show the happiness of giving birth to a child. Here is a paradox. If no sex = purity then by deduction, sex = impurity. But! Children = happiness. Therefore, how can something that is happily wanted come out of something that it impure? So goes my above statement, purity should be replaced with innocence.
On a whole though, face painting for the Efik women was (and still is?) a way to outwardly express their femininity. These women embraced their womanhood. Something I often think is missing from many women's construction of selves today... For our Selves are constructed, no matter how authentic we claim to be. I am not negating the possibility that there are people, women, who have worked on themselves for years and have reached a higher plane of consciousness and no longer feel the need to subsctibe to lables (no matter how positive - e.g. carer - or negative - e.g. people pleaser). And it is not that bad a thing to subscribe to identities - for me I like to think I subscribe to the identity of writer, dancer/bgirl/ballerina, hippie, environmental vegetarian etc etc. I suppose if these identities constrain you then these labels might not be such a great idea to subscribe to them...
Why is it I wonder that women try so hard to be like men, but if men try to embrace their feminine aspects, they are seen as being soft? South African men are hyper-masculinised - being fed images on Steers adverts that construct a man to be a "proper man" if he shouts Huha!, watches rugby and eats "real 100% beef patties with MORE BEEF". Alas, the beef industry is the worst culprit in accelerating the demise of the environmental situation of the world. And "proper men" fight. Just watch an army movie and the idealisation of belonging to a brotherhood.
Neither do I believe the answer is radical feminism. All this is doing is changing the person who is being hated on. Neither is the position of women being improved if all they are doing is becoming like a man, by fitting into the patriarchal constructs in the working and living world. The position of women is neither further improved if there is pressure to simultaneous be a good mother and a good businesswoman. If a woman chooses to work, she is suppressing her biological clock. If she has children and works, she is abandoning her role. If she has children and chooses (here I must emphasise choose and not forced to out of belief that this is her "true" role) to stay at home, then she has no ambition, she has chosen the easy way out (as to some peoples belief that popping out kids is the easy way out of doing something with you life). As a psychologist said on Talk Radio 702 a few months back, there is nothing wrong with stay-at-home moms. But if this prevents you from doing anything on your own, then this is a problem.
Hating all men is not a solution either. We must all remember that sometimes men are just as much victims of the circumstances in which they find themselves. This is not an excuse for abuse or mistreatment by men of other people. That men are also victims can help us to understand the complexity that is male-female relationships. And women are not helpless passive pawns in the construction of and path that their lives take. Women can be and are often active agents in positioning themselves in situation in order to get the most out of it. Women are not the weak victims that politics, books, novels, fairy tales, the media, songs etc portray them to be. I think we need to start chaging the stories that we feed our children. No matter how pretty the stories are. The world is not made up of weak princesses just waiting to be saved by the handsome prince.
These are just some (deep) thoughts that have come out of researching the role of face painting in a Nigerian woman's life. That womanhood is outwardly expressed and celebrated on a woman's face and body shows how beautiful, dominant and strong femininity is in the world today.
In approximately 10 days I will be leaving for my trip. As a precursor to my trip, I went to an African week celebration where we were treated to performances of Ndebele dances, Ghanaian drumming, Shangaan dancing and praise and performance poetry. As part of the evening, we we asked to dress up. I swathed myself in scarves and painted my face in a Nigerian inspired pattern.
To the left, me, to the right, my inspiration (ref: superstock.com). I am however, uncertain about from which group of people this face painting originates. But for the sake of learning something new, I will talk about face painting on women (there is face painting for men as well !).~
Among the Efik tribe in Southeastern Nigeria face painting can be a sybol of love or purity. In the later case, young women paint their faces as a symbol of a rite of passage, an entry into womanhood. And in most cases it is presumed that the young girl is pure (i.e she has not yet had sex. Although I have issues with the word pure being used - why is it that when a woman has had sex she is considered un-pure...? This is why we have so many issues in the world today where it comes to sexuality and sensuality. I don't believe to have sex is to sully yourself. Maybe if people replaced the word purity with the word innocence that would be a better r epresentation- because when you are a child, you are still innocent, and generally - but not always I understand - children have not had sex and are therefore innocent to all the emotions that comes with such encounters).On the other hand, face painting may also be done to show the happiness of giving birth to a child. Here is a paradox. If no sex = purity then by deduction, sex = impurity. But! Children = happiness. Therefore, how can something that is happily wanted come out of something that it impure? So goes my above statement, purity should be replaced with innocence.
On a whole though, face painting for the Efik women was (and still is?) a way to outwardly express their femininity. These women embraced their womanhood. Something I often think is missing from many women's construction of selves today... For our Selves are constructed, no matter how authentic we claim to be. I am not negating the possibility that there are people, women, who have worked on themselves for years and have reached a higher plane of consciousness and no longer feel the need to subsctibe to lables (no matter how positive - e.g. carer - or negative - e.g. people pleaser). And it is not that bad a thing to subscribe to identities - for me I like to think I subscribe to the identity of writer, dancer/bgirl/ballerina, hippie, environmental vegetarian etc etc. I suppose if these identities constrain you then these labels might not be such a great idea to subscribe to them...
Why is it I wonder that women try so hard to be like men, but if men try to embrace their feminine aspects, they are seen as being soft? South African men are hyper-masculinised - being fed images on Steers adverts that construct a man to be a "proper man" if he shouts Huha!, watches rugby and eats "real 100% beef patties with MORE BEEF". Alas, the beef industry is the worst culprit in accelerating the demise of the environmental situation of the world. And "proper men" fight. Just watch an army movie and the idealisation of belonging to a brotherhood.
Neither do I believe the answer is radical feminism. All this is doing is changing the person who is being hated on. Neither is the position of women being improved if all they are doing is becoming like a man, by fitting into the patriarchal constructs in the working and living world. The position of women is neither further improved if there is pressure to simultaneous be a good mother and a good businesswoman. If a woman chooses to work, she is suppressing her biological clock. If she has children and works, she is abandoning her role. If she has children and chooses (here I must emphasise choose and not forced to out of belief that this is her "true" role) to stay at home, then she has no ambition, she has chosen the easy way out (as to some peoples belief that popping out kids is the easy way out of doing something with you life). As a psychologist said on Talk Radio 702 a few months back, there is nothing wrong with stay-at-home moms. But if this prevents you from doing anything on your own, then this is a problem.
Hating all men is not a solution either. We must all remember that sometimes men are just as much victims of the circumstances in which they find themselves. This is not an excuse for abuse or mistreatment by men of other people. That men are also victims can help us to understand the complexity that is male-female relationships. And women are not helpless passive pawns in the construction of and path that their lives take. Women can be and are often active agents in positioning themselves in situation in order to get the most out of it. Women are not the weak victims that politics, books, novels, fairy tales, the media, songs etc portray them to be. I think we need to start chaging the stories that we feed our children. No matter how pretty the stories are. The world is not made up of weak princesses just waiting to be saved by the handsome prince.
These are just some (deep) thoughts that have come out of researching the role of face painting in a Nigerian woman's life. That womanhood is outwardly expressed and celebrated on a woman's face and body shows how beautiful, dominant and strong femininity is in the world today.
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