Wednesday, 30
in October tourists are coming back (from covid 19 planet). that is what they say. everybody will be at the beach to seize them. "your House of Culture is nice, but, sorry, all we need is a chance to travel. then, we can make a lot of money and after, we are able to build our Mom a proper house in Gambia". even at the art space - i've had two conversations with artists yet (everything went slow due to the lockdown) - again, i had to emphasize that i am based here in the Gambia and it is about Gambia. because, they also were talking about connections to overseas - that is all what they need. of course, i have connections to where i am coming from, but i get depressed when it is only about this. meanwhile i gasp out internally: you don't see me as human being, who is here sitting in front of you, in body and soul. but you vision yourself already travelling. i am just an organ you are going through to reach for your next destination.

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i've learned not to force things. before, i tried to convey my point of view how things should be and look like. as a matter of fact, i was punished with incomprehension. when i collected pieces of paper and other waste on the compound to put it into a garbage bag, everybody was looking at me as a lunatic. nobody is so stupid as to get their fingers dirty in front of others. only if there is a contract and you can be sure to get paid. but sometimes i forced: come on, lets do this or that. with long faces people then helped me, but mostly the result was as ambiguous as the doing itself. so now, hey, i tell myself, just keep cool. everything will come out fine and then i am fine. yeah, i see women in the morning cleaning and preparing breakfast, going to the market and after preparing lunch. in my eyes they are somehow condemned to do so in order to be accepted within the community. men say that them they are hustling and pay fish money. helping each other doesn't come to their mind. they don't see when a woman needs help. or maybe they see it and think that when she is so stupid doing it, let her do it. sometimes i also fall into this role of the woman. though, the more i do the less the others do and as response they just watch me doing. that hurts and you get sad and then you stop doing in favour of others. you only do what you want to do. when i want to cook lunch for them, then i really want to do so - no force, but my own decision.


Monday, 28
a discovery: always, when i moved to different places or when i travelled, i believed i would become another person. though, i have to realise that I've stayed the same for as long as I can think and remember.


Friday, 25
you don't know how much i enjoyed spending time at my laptop the days before yesterday. reading and writing, just diving into the virtual and forgetting about the oppressiveness of the physical world. editing. we went to the Art Space yesterday, where we found everything fine - no further mould growth. i attached a notice at the window to tell people who might be interested to communicate with us that we don't have regular opening hours at the moment, but that we will be open on request, whenever convenient for everybody. today, i have to do housework, as it rained again heavily last night and everything is dirty. sometimes i wish we had employees who cook, clean, shop and look after the garden - as Flora Goforth.


Wednesday, 23

CHRIS: I've lost it lately--this sense of reality in my particular world. We don't all live in the same world, you know, Mrs Goforth, oh, we all see the same things--sea, sun, sky, human faces and inhuman faces, but--they're different in here! [Touches his forehead.] And one person's sense of reality can be another person's sense of--Well, of madness!--Chaos!-And, and-
MRS GOFORTH: Go on--I'm still with you.
CHRIS: And when one person's sense of reality, or loss of sense of reality, disturbs another one's sense of reality--I know how mixed up this-
MRS GOFORTH: Not a bit, clear as a bell, so keep on, y'haven't lost my attention.
CHRIS: Being able to talk--wonderful!--When one person's sense of reality seems too-disturbingly different from another person's, uh-
MRS GOFORTH: Sense of reality--Continue.
CHRIS: Well, he's--avoided! Not welcome! It's--that simple.... And--yesterday in Naples, I suddenly realized that I was in that situation. [Turns to the booming sea and says 'Boom'.] I found out that I was now a--leper!
MRS GOFORTH: Leopard?
CHRIS: leper!--boom! [She ignores the 'boom'.] Yes, you see, they hang labels, tags of false identification, on people that disturb their own sense of reality too much
(...)
MRS GOFORTH: Oh, sometimes I don't have lunch, either.
CHRIS: You're not on a healthful regime. You know, the spirit has to live in the body and so you have to keep the body in a state of repair because it's the home of the--spirit....
MRS GOFORTH: --Hmmm. Are you talking about your spirit and body or mine?
CHRIS: Yours.
MRS GOFORTH: One long ago meeting between us, and you expect me to believe you care more about my spirit and body than your own? Mr Flanders?
CHRIS: Mrs Goforth, some people, some people, most of them, get panicky when they're not cared for by somebody, but I get panicky when I have no one to care for.
MRS GOFORTH: Oh, you seem to be setting yourself up as a--as a saint of some kind....
CHRIS: All I said is I need somebody to care for. I don't say that-[He has finished his coffee and crosses to the warmer for more.] I'm playing the truth game with you. Caring for somebody gives me the sense of being-sheltered, protected-
MRS GOFORTH: 'Sheltered, protected' from what?
CHRIS [standing above her]: --Unreality!

I will never buy friends and I am already sixty-two. But what made me curious was Flora Goforth. I googled the name awaiting a celebrity. Not at all, but a figure invented by the author himself from the play he mentioned after in brackets. Becoming more exited i searched for the play though no kindle edition seems to exist. Eventually, I found a pdf, which I downloaded at once. Yeah, me too, i sometimes feel like her - Flora Goforth.


Monday, 21
Patheh was here yesterday. Accompanied by a tall man, he seemed to be busy on his way for a new borehole in Tanjir - just making a short stop at my site. Both wearing masks this time. The tall man had this kind of device, with which you can prove if there is electricity or not, in one of his hands. To look more busy even (my interpretation). The sun was shining and water coming. After removing the makeshift concrete slab, the tall man opened the pipe's connection to evaluate the pressure. He mumbled the water was flowing fine. I saw it myself though. Then we went up to the tank to see there. I pointed out to the fact that the water poured in very slowly. Then, like always, Patheh explained Alpha's (the constructor) mistake. That he had placed the borehole wrongly and against his advice (Patheh's) to place it near to the tank. Thus the pump has to be very powerful to pump the water along the house and finally on top of the roof. On my doubts concerning the actual pump, Patheh repeated several times that this new pump is very strong. And, to strengthen his positive attitude towards the actual pump, he added: since he was here last time people have called him frequently. That time, half year ago, he had bought around ten pumps of the same type like mine. And they all got the same problems. So, there must to be something wrong with that one. Again, I suggested mending that former stronger one. He had a very open ear, when I told him about my electrician, who had said to me he could pick the pump and try to fix it - it could be a minor problem. Replying on this he asked, if I knew someone who could do it. At that moment I realised that he didn't know anything about mending pumps. Anyway, he offered to exchange the actual one with the former, when I was not happy with how things were. Of course I declined. I didn't want to get back the broken one. Hence, I finally arrived where I had started. Nothing changed. I have no choice but to hope that we won't have any complications in the near and distant future.







Tuesday, 15
bad news again. today, at the art space i saw my arrival2 picture spoilt by mould. i replaced it with Avendre/Recycling singles.


Sunday, 13
the pump - a long story. but to make it short, the man, Patheh (that's how i saved his name in my contacts), who made the borehole and provided all the pumps, exchanged the pump. half year ago, when i bought the last pump from him, he told me that i would have one year guarantee. when i called him last week, because our pump didn't work he showed up with a new pump the following day telling me: now the guarantee is finished. firstly, he didn't install the pump properly, so i had to call my house plumber to fix. then i realised that the new pump is very weak. it pumps in a day what the other did in 10 minutes. now i try to get back my former pump, but Patheh seems running away although it could be only a minor thing bringing back the pump to its former state and returning it to me. hey, i am vex.





Friday, 11
eventually, i unframed 49 days (before - after) against my first intention to throw it. i just couldn't.
by the way, we hanged arrival2 at the art space a while ago...








Wednesday, 9
we are haunted by bad luck. first of all our beautiful roof turned out leaking. for sure, we have to make changes i don't even want to think about. probably the best and the most expensive would be an all-covering roof over the terrace. then, a window fell out due to the mud bricks getting soft because of heavy rainfall. finally, since yesterday, our water pump, which we bought in March and on which we got a one-year warranty, has stopped working. the man, who sold the pump and installed it as well, is not available at the moment. i tell you, life is not easy, but it goes on anyway.












Tuesday, 1
September is here and lockdown in The Gambia till the 16th.