A black friend

It is the first of May and six more weeks will be spend in Mexico but often the mind wanders to the time that is to come.
That will be spend first in the USA and after in Europe.
Again a time of living in rooms of family, friends and hotels.
Moving all the time, crossing borders, visiting buildings, entering houses, sleeping beds.

Never has there a been a situation that was felt forever.
To come to a place, to settle in knowing that moving will never be necessary ever again.
To plant a tree to see it grow the rest of the life.
To be there to see the shadow of that tree become so big that the own grave eventually will fit.

But the thirst for new experiences and impressions, the need for the consciousness to enlarge, the urgency to fuel the process of completeness, it all results in buying a new plane ticket.

The time before to go soon returns though to get all attention again.
It is too precious to spend daydreaming of the days to come.
Right here are plenty of trees planted by others that inspire no matter how big their shadows.

Like the African American, now settled in La Paz, Mexico, who is met almost daily in Café Exquisito where we use the internet and phone.
After the first conversation, in which some jokes were cracked, he said:
"You are funny for a white man".
A remark that has several dimensions.
We may wonder what happens if the white man says to the African American:
"You are funny for a black man".
Somehow that doesn't sound right.
But the new friend, whose roots are in Africa that were cut off cruelly for white man's interests and gains, can say such a thing and it is experienced as a huge compliment.
Like being selected for the basket ball team.

Yesterday the white man confirmed his basket ball skills.
Entering Café Exquisito, the African American was already pounding the keys of the board sending his messages god knows to where.
And about what.
As opening line this was chosen:
"How are you today, my friend?"
He is of course not really a friend but it sounds truly nice in the concept we have developed and draped around us.
He replied with his sonore, bariton-like but certainly beautiful voice:
"Faaaaantasticccc… And how about yourself?"
To remain in his high esteem an answer had to be thought off and quickly as for that, to remain in the favour and flavour.
"Look, my friend… I can't help it but if you feel fantastic, and I can see you speak the truth, I feel therefore fantastic as well".
His loud laugh filled the space because obviously we were a little bit brothers more than before.
But the best laugh was when leaving.
He said:
"Now you take care of yourself".
And the reply was:
"Forever".
He looked in the eyes of the white man and there was this slightly too long moment in which obviously deeper thinking took place but then he bursted out laughing.
And that is a sweet and beautiful memory.
Forgetting flying in six weeks.




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