Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Irrawaddy Dreams....
My heart hurts for the people of Burma .... Cyclone Nargis that devastated most of lower Burma and the Irrawaddy delta, May 3rd. will effect their lives for years to come if not for ever. The unfolding tragedy and unjust treatment of the people by the inapt military junta continues to dumbfound me.
I look back on my trip there in January -February 2004 with quiet memories.
Memories of the beautiful faces, their Faith constant in everything they thing they do. Their long history of oppression the hardships they have endured.
Rudyard Kipling's poem:
Mandalay
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat -- jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,
An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot:
Bloomin' idol made o'mud...
Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd..
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!
On the road to Mandalay . . .
When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "Kulla-lo-lo!"
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my cheek
We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak.
Elephints a-pilin' teak
In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!
On the road to Mandalay . . .
But that's all shove be'ind me -- long ago an' fur away,
An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;
An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells:
"If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else."
No! you won't 'eed nothin' else
But them spicy garlic smells,
An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells;
On the road to Mandalay...
I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand?
Beefy face an' grubby 'and...
Law! wot do they understand?
I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
On the road to Mandalay...
Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,
Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst;
For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be..
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea;
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay,
With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
Friday, May 2, 2008
My Neighbors are back.
The same pair of Yellow Crowned Night Herons come back every year to make their nest in the oak... two trees down from the gallery here on Church Street.
They arrived last week on Tuesday and have been busy rebuilding their nest.
I showed the pair to , Robin & Jim Roberts a couple visiting here in Charleston, sailing their way up the coast. Here are some good close up photos they sent me of the nesting pair.
It is so wonderful to live in such a beautiful place and to surrounded by all the Natural History. A constant conformation of how what I do parallels what I see....Mark Catesby painted them while he was here in the Carolina Lowcountry the early 1700’s. ....Audubon's incredible image of the Yellow Crowned Night Herons and the detail or graphics of the feathers really is a great image.
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