More news from September and this time from my world of art, with my painting, ‘Tuti Island’ appearing in the Menduina Schneider 6th Salon of Painting.
It’s wonderfully inspiring to exhibit alongside such a diverse range of international artists, and this piece, from my hand-painted mosaic collection, holds significance since it tells the personal story of a turtle I once met while living in the Sudan.
To listen to the story, click here for the you tube video. Read on for the extended version:
Happy Reading!
Tuti Island
In the shade of a steel truss bridge she stands,
On a not-so-deserted strip of sand,
Red fiery sun akin to warm Sudanese smiles,
At this place of confluence of the Blue and White Nile,
Behind her, Khartoum, a tale of two rivers,
And bustling streets, but her gaze drifts and lingers,
As young lads fish a turtle to torment,
She walks over to barter with intent.
Downriver she finds a secluded spot,
A safe place where the turtle won’t be recaught,
The turtle looks on at the water with longing,
But ‘Khawaja’, ‘foreigner’, the boys are calling.
In the mid-day sun, she heads further downstream,
Past crocodile watchers, asleep, so it seems,
Nervous, she casts an eye on the water,
Boys still following, unfazed by danger.
Her basket rustling, she heads for home,
Across the White Nile bridge to Omdurman.
Her sink becomes a makeshift pond,
For a turtle, of which she grows so fond.
When its skin begins to flake and dry,
She rubs fish oil into its leathery hide,
Days pass and still no-where to go,
With a turtle who needs a river for home.
Bemused smiles from friends sipping mint tea,
To see a turtle burrowing beneath her knees,
After call for prayer customary tales are whispered,
Of friends and neighbours disappeared,
Her heart aches for Aameira, never to return,
Brother and child left with hearts that burn,
Tears shed for the sorrow caused by those holding sway,
With check points and rifles never far away.
A maze of souks with brightly coloured tobes,
Great bowls of coffee beans, dates, cinnamon and cloves,
Shared trays of fuul beans laden with chilli and salt,
A taste for this staple, she has got.
Then finally news of a place,
A stretch of river where the turtle will be safe,
Basket full they leave the bustling streets,
Untempered by the stifling heat.
A boat ride to Tuti island she lands,
At the shore she gazes at the turtle, her friend.
Before releasing it to swim to its hearts content,
She’s taken aback by her own gushing sentiment,
And the turtle catches her by surprise,
Ducking under her skirt, reluctant to break ties,
Until finally it swims away,
And she stands alone, feeling emotions sway.
Time to leave this fertile shore, she knows,
But falters when a trail of bubbles show,
It couldn’t be… but then a head poked out,
This was a friendship she could not doubt.
It’s okay to go, she gently said,
Unmoved, the turtle raised its head,
The woman smiled and gently sighed,
In return, the turtle blinked its eyes.
When finally they parted ways,
She wiped away a tear that strayed,
Thoughts of women declaring with knowing smiles,
‘Nothing washes tired skin better than the Nile,’
