shouldn't I write about in favour of my own state of mind? I've been waiting for our welderman since Monday morning. I am like paralyzed, have depression and almost nothing else can I do but wait. Because the railing is essential for the party on Friday. When Alieu was here last week, Tuesday, to pick up the massive railing, and after I had given him enough money for the new one, he promised me that when he passed our modest gate with his big 4wheel drive, he would definitely next Monday come to install the railing. He even suggested to come on Saturday, but then it occurred to him that it was Christmas and none of his employees would be there. I asked again if I should remind him of this on Sunday. And he answered very clearly, no, I don't need that - YOU HAVE WAITED LONG ENOUGH. Pleased with this insight, I could now approach and spend the Christmas days with peace of mind. But unfortunately, when I wanted to enquire about his popping up around on Monday morning at 10 a.m., I got no answer. I tried to reach him again during the day and finally at eight in the evening he called that he had had an emergency - something with gas - I couldn't understand it properly due to the poor sound quality, but accepted in the hope that if I stayed friendly, he would come the next day. I asked him to come in the morning, but when I had to call again to see if he was coming, he was somewhere in Sanyang and said he had to go to Fandema. I was put on the back of his list with my request. He would try to come after that, and if not he would call and we talk then about Wednesday. But he didn't call. Unfortunately, I even gave in, I had told him I had to leave on Wednesday and would do it early so that he could come afterwards. But when I thought about it later, why should I stress myself because he can't keep his appointments? So I said that I would not leave the house until the railing was installed. This morning we called him on Ous' cell phone because he didn't answer my calls last night, and he promptly answered it. He still has to go somewhere and then to me. I made it clear to him that I was already feeling sick because of his behavior. He promised to be there in an hour or two and now it's already three hours. I feel disrespected and very disappointed... now that I've finished this text he is at the gate.
Saturday, 25
Yes, after that lazy day yesterday, I even had time to browse my Kindle library. I felt like reading the Tennessee Williams memoir and was immediately drawn to it. I have now reached 86% of the book. I also try to read his plays and his prose. It was the time when his friend Frankie died of lung cancer and he fell into depression. Certainly in connection with medication and other drugs with which he could always keep himself on the same level. My father once said when he was old aready that our family is prone to depression. A taboo that one doesn't like to talk about. I am amazed at the life Tennessee Williams led, how he plunged himself into life. A life that was constantly under attack. He was a tightrope walker who didn't look into the abyss because he wanted to stay alive and reach the other side. When I started reading yesterday, and I looked back at my own life I somehow regretted that I had been able only vaguely express my life artistically. None of my works has ever been as exposed to the public and criticism as his was. Sure, no comparison, and yet when I read it, I sometimes compare or put myself in the place of him, which is inevitable with his style, at least for me. He was challenged always, for plays, films, meetings, whatever. People in whose lives he played an important role, often women, invited him, called him and loved him. His affairs sparked the fire and inspiration to write. I ran away from fame and glamor. I was afraid to respect my own talent and pursue it. As soon as I had this feeling of being on my side, breathing in the sweetness of the muse, the resistance around me was greatest. My closest friends and family were so demanding of my skills that I couldn't hold out. I started feeling lonly. Something was missing that gave me the power to believe in myself. As a result, I withdrew into meditation to start something that I thought ingratiated me instead of enhancing my work. I went into the security of a relatively bourgeois life with a thin, though solid ground under my feet. However, this always made my artistic activity seem of marginal importance.
Friday, 24
Today I'll let go. No exercises in the morning, no sweeping - let's see what the day brings. Yesterday was so hectic that I almost wanted to give up. And then, for once, a completely clear day, the sun burned relentlessly. The days before it had always been cloudy. In fact, I hadn't been sure if I could fill the water tank. The car made again halfway. Marrouns was the first stop on my list. I found a low-priced olive oil there that I like. Before it is no longer available, I would buy a bottle in advance, I thought. But of course, already gone. Last Sunday there were still a few bottles on the shelf. Why didn't I buy two at once. Basically, I'm not someone who likes to hoard. It had smelled strange and when I drove past the Village I hesitated whether I should turn there to the garage, but then decided to stick to my plan. In the supermarket parking lot, I opened the hood and saw that oil had splashed over the engine again. What other to do than driving straight to the garage. Nobody there, everyone at a naming ceremony, as the only person on the property, a young woman, told me. I called Mansu and really, he suggested to come to the garage - he was not far, he said. And, he was there in a few minutes. He discovered a small hole in the pipe that led from the oil tank to the gearbox. The tank was bone dry. He cut the pipe there where the hole had been and fixed it. After he drove to the nearest store to buy oil, and the damage was repaired. I've been with him since I've lived in Gambia and I swear by him. Next on my list was the kitchen shop on Kairaba Ave. I needed Italian coffee machines. But I had made an agreement with Lukas to meet. We hadn't seen each other for a while and he'll be flying back in a few days. I found him a little unnerved at the Choosan beach in Senegambia. By the way, a nice new restaurant. He didn't know if he could do a PCR test over the holidays. I myself was nervous because time was running out. Ous was already on the ferry and we had agreed that I would pick him up somewhere. After getting the expresso machines, I ended up at Timbooktoo to pick up my ordered book African Artists from 1882 > now. In the well-chilled café upstairs on the first floor, I was finally able to take a breather. Ous had arrived in Banjul and we arranged to meet at Turntable. Anything else would have been pointless because of the heavy traffic. At walking pace I then reached Brusubi, where I did more of the shopping. Yes, the party - I already mentioned the grill - makes me uneasy. Hopefully everything will work out and I can satisfy the invited guests. When we finally got to the house, I saw that the light on the porch was broken. It's starting well, I thought to myself. But it was only a temporary contact problem. Next week Alieu is coming with his boys to install the railings. Without it, it would be too dangerous to climb the roof terrace. He had been here last week, but the railing was too big and heavy and we opted for a lighter version.
Wednesday, 22
Catch 22 - i tell you but time is running like a space ship. On the whole, I didn't do bad in keeping my word for a daily entry. Only this month was just fragmentary and completely incomplete, and perhaps the last few months have not been so regular either. I haven't given my diary a thought in the last few weeks, but I hope it comes back. It is as if other demands are making me forget the need to think. Holding track of what's coming next. I try to keep my mood up. Sometimes the body feels heavy and the mind cannot escape gravity. It can also be the dust, the wind, which makes me wander around the horizon to come across an image or an inspiration, but can never fully grasp them.
Tuesday, 14
Paul Eliasberg - Moonlight over the sea, 1960, etching, 19x24.9cm
Tuesday, 7
Of course today like every working day a lot of noise and dust. I will not repeat this always, but for today I still need it. I tell you not just because I am in a partnership I let myself degrade to a house wife. No man ever can do that to me. I don't lose my selfrespect anymore because I am woman. When he is sitting there talking to a friend on phone and tells him he is struggling whilst I am cleaning in front of his eyes I cannot take him serious - how - struggling?
Monday, 6
you don't believe it. it is not an official holiday, but the sand miners make on. Thank you for that giving me a peaceful day.
Sunday, 5
Now I was hoping today is Sunday and we would have peace. No, one of the excavators has been running the engine for more than an hour by now, always accelerating in between. Hum, hum, hum. Hum, hum, hum. I actually feel stressed and my heartbeat is increasing alarmingly. Or is it the blood pressure that is rising. In any case, I notice that I am feeling uncomfortable and have headache. The people from the container, who we call animals, are also back again. Not a Sunday as I had hoped for. I took the photo yesterday when I finally dared to go out again in the afternoon to go for a walk with the dogs.
Not to mention the shame inflicted on nature. I learned that there was enough sand in Gambia, but inland. And that would mean higher costs. Because of these costs, because of this greediness, the landscape is defaced. The sea level rises every year in The Gambia and most of the beaches are left with just narrow strips. The dunes from Sanyang to Batakunku prevented the sea from encroaching. That is definitely over now. The sea will move about 200 meters further - I guess. The narrow strip of dune that has been left will not hold back the sea for long.
Saturday, 4
Today election day. No trucks, no disturbance at all. Even a sweet breeze coming from the sea.
i didn't think that could be possible any more.
Friday, 3
I could get upset about the situation any day now, but it doesn't make any sense do I tell myself repeatedly. Nevertheless, I am a person where the sense of smell plays a decisive role, and I am wondering where the unpleasant smell that has been arising since a while is coming from. And then I think these people who have placed their container there and take money from the truck drivers, where do they do their business? In plain language, where do they pee and shit?
Thursday, 2
Run away from the noise, go to town. Buying a gorgeous red grill called Americana - for something I'll reveal later. Unfortunately, our television set, which is less than four years old, is completely broken, confirms the second technician. So I have to go for another TV. Heard about Netflix to be able to watch whatever movie I wanted, and for that, our TV in-house engineer said we needed a smart TV. Let's see we'll look for it another day. In the evening, the conference at the HfbK Hamburg invites to a discussion with Olu Oluguibe about the importance of monuments in public space. I later discover another conversation on fb that is taking place in Miami. The Swiss curator Hans Ulrich Obrist, whom I have known since I spent a year in Paris at the Cité Internationale in 1992. They also talk about public art and a lot more.
Manuel Mathieu and Edwidge Danticat
Conference: Counter-Monuments and Para-Monuments (Day 1)
Wednesday, 1
Goodbye Romance
It's almost unbearable with the trucks that pass by early in the morning. Heartbreaking, where before the silence and the chirping of birds delighted our existence, we can now hear the coarse sound of roaring machines. While we were able to take a leisurely walk to the beach in ten minutes and let our gaze wander over the waves, we are now unable to access the sea by foot. Unless we tackle a hike or drive to the nearest beach. Fortunately we are not a lodge or any other business that requires quiet and cleanliness. That would be the end. But a house of culture has to be able to cope with it, as it has the function of integrating cultures and sand mining is just part of human culture. No houses could be built without the sand. This house was also built with sand. It is also part of our culture to disturb and destroy nature for this very reason. Just as the dunes are now disappearing and in their place seemingly uncultivated land emerges, sometimes with stagnant water when digging down to sea level. Even if I am close to desperation, there is still no reason to give up. So we stay in dust and noise and try to ignore the vulgar reality with beautiful music. Dusting daily is now a chore that I'll get used to. It's not good for things because the fine dust tries to get into every tiny gap, like the keyboards of our computers, but well, that's the passage of time. Who knows, maybe at some point we will say goodbye to sacred technology. And death inevitably remains a part of nature. In the broadest sense, technology also belongs to nature if everything that exists in the universe is assigned to nature. And so I come to the conclusion that I am ultimately saying goodbye to the romance that has always irritated me. I mean the romantic gaze in search for beauty. The sunset would be classic, for example. Because it's immanent distortion of perception arises from the fact that the mind is overwhelmed and numbed by the senses, which can ultimately lead to making people submissive.
Art Space Work of the Month
Hajo Bötel (*1947) - Blue, 1972, silkscreen, 53.4x73.7 cm