It’s hard to remember now, being at an age when debris was novel and brought the potential for treasure. The right sticks put together could create the most intriguing spaces, the nearby park now was covered in tree-branch confetti; it was a wonderland.
Finally, some clay piñatas and fruit for stuffing them. Kids used to break clay piñatas and throw themselves to get the fruit, that was our 80’s candy. The best fruits of the season were mandarins, green sugar cane and small jicamas (a delicious white root that is juicy and tastes delicious with lime and salt). You could end up with your knees all scratched from the clay, but that wasn’t a reason to hold yourself back.
In the distance I could hear the faint sounds of a brook. And amongst the trickle of water there were birds that sang. As we walked deeper into the forest the light from the road began to disappear and the trees grew even taller. So tall in fact that I felt dizzy looking up at them and I completely forgot why we were here as I tried to find my balance.
On my last night in India, I went dancing kizomba. I told the Indian kizomba dance teacher that I was leaving tomorrow, going to Angola. I thought he would be excited to know that I was going to the birthplace of kizomba, the dance he was teaching.
“Angola. What’s that?”
My husband shared my little project with the RCMP gift shop manager and he asked if he could make some orders. This snowballed into a new line of products for my small business. I decided to launch a Kickstarter for an entire book series and custom belongings.