South African Braai in the Bronx

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

This Saturday, I made my way from Williamsburg to the North Bronx for an event hosted on the occasion of the B. Pule Leinaeng library in Bloemfontein, South Africa. The event was held at Lyle's childhood home and it was great to see some of his earlier work that is on display in various rooms. This was the 10th Anniversary of the Library and they featured a story teller, spoken word artist and two drummers.

After a brief welcome message, the event commenced with a sort of meet and greet where guests were encouraged to speak to someone they don't know, asking what his/her association with the organization, as well as their knowledge of South Africa.

I spoke to a woman who was the former dean of Bronx Community College. She had been to Africa over 11 times and I spoke about my trip last year to Ghana and my involvement since. Neither of us had a direct connection to South Africa.

Homemade ginger juice was served chilled with ice, and it left a tingling warm sensation at the back of my throat.

During my way to explore and find a bathroom, I took a few pictures of Lyle's work.

Dinner was served buffet style and tables of people were called in by number. I tried a South African bean dish which was delicious along with potato salad, corn bread, and fried fish. Dessert was both chocolate and vanilla cake.

Vanilla.

The piece above was made by Lyle while in Grad school.

Yellow.

Good times were had by all, I felt welcomed and comfortable and am sure that the benefit was worthwhile in financial/educational support of the library. To learn more about B. Pule Leinaeng, please watch Twelve Disciples of Nelson Mandela, a film by Thomas Allen Harris.

More soon!
xo
-- Posted from my iPhone
Http://www.katyhamer.com

»»  read more

Really muggy day.

He is such a great story teller. I've enjoyed all of Mr. Dobie's books, and all of the books which those led me to.

Talk and Silence
"Blessed are those who have nothing to say an cannot be persuaded to say it."
Among cow people, some - as among all people - had nothing to say but said it anyhow. Some who had something to say said it in few words. Others didn't say anything whether they had it or not. Many wanted company.

As a girl at Rancho Seco in Nueces County in the '70's, my mother knew a rancher named Kellet who at times so craved company that he would ride out to the road from San Antonio to Corpus, which passed only a few miles from his ranch, and wait until somebody came along. It might be a freighter. He'd hold him up, prevail on him to turn off and go to the ranch, where his team would have plentyof feed and he would have a regular preacher's supper and a clean bed to sleep in. Kellet had a way of getting people to talk. He liked talk. He wanted to know what was going on beyond the country.

He was the opposite of the two line riders, or at least one of them, who rode in Montana before barbed wire kept cattle in pastures. One summer evening after supper while they were sitting outside the cabin a bellowing came over the air. One said, "Bull." The other said, "Sounds like an old steer to me." Not another word on the subject or any other subject was spoken before the two went to bed.

The next morning the man who had spoken first the evening before brought in the saddle horses, roped out his personal mount and pack horse, and began rolling up his bed roll and putting his clothes in a sack.

"Riding?" the other questioned.
"Yes, too much argument."
Cow People, J. Frank Dobie

»»  read more