Plastic bags: an addiction - end of wk 2...

FRESH BAGS USED = 1. Yay!

...and it was 1 because:

I went to Sainsburys PREPARED i tell you, PREPARED - Big white plastic bag from my cupboard & everything - told the woman @ the till that i came with my own bag (and she smiled at me like i was some cute baby learning to walk). So there I was happily packing stuff into my bag AND THEN she goes & puts the chicken in A FRESH BAG. GRRRR....

...and that's how i ended up with 1.

...oh and the big white plastic bag snapped on the way home so i had to hold it like a sack... not pretty

task: buy one of those durable shopping bags made out of cloth. see? now ain't i clever?

Me? A feminist?

Oh thank you!, thank you!, thank you! - no one's ever called me a feminist before! (sniffle, sniffle) - someone please pass the tissue - thank you so much.

(looking down - wringing my fingers)
I've always felt I was a feminist but i was too scared to tell anyone - not even my best friend, Georgina. Been keeping it to myself all these years - heavy burden to bear. I went to the pastor once... to confess... & he told me: Do 10 Hail Marys, 10 Our Fathers & 10 sit ups and you'll be just fine. I said: Oh thank you, preacher, I mean, pastor! Thank you! God Bless You! And he said: What do you mean, God? I AM God. And I said: OK. I'll leave you to it, then. and made my exit walking slooowly backwards.

So how did you know i was a feminist anyway? I thought i hid it quite well. I mean, my hair's not short, I wear sacks of make-up, wear stilettos with heels taller than a palm tree, I luuurve cooking & i have a gazillion bras.

What? You could smell I was a feminist? How the f**k does a feminist smell? Like what? - like a woman.


You're funny.

Plastic bags: an addiction - end of wk 1...

FRESH BAGS USED = 3.   Why?: 'cos:

(a) i wasn't planning to shop that day, but found myself going into a supermarket

(b) when i did have a re-used plastic bag with me, wasn't enough as i bought more stuff than i expected

...BUT 3 fresh bags in a week ain't bad! - just need to be more 'on it'.

So i went to one fruit & veg stall, bought myself a whole bunch of bananas - asked the guy to put it in my duffle bag - he said 'no, i'll put in the plastic bag first' - i said 'no, just put it in my bag, please' - he said 'ok, love, whatever floats your boat'. hmmm...

Am I evil???

i live on a major road - opposite a bus stop - and every so often, you get a swarm of ticket collectors & police-folk there checking for fare dodgers.

Confession: I like seeing people get caught.


Is that really bad (of me)?


And since we're at it... i like seeing people miss the bus too.(bad girl, ebele, bad girl)


i hardly ever run for the bus (or the train for that matter) 'cos i know there'll be someone on it, just as evil as me, smiling & rubbing their hands with glee, waving from the back of the bus, going WO-HA-HAAAA.

...so i just don't bother ...unless i'm AAABSOLUTELY sure i'm gonna make it (but that would involve me doing some juju to project myself into the future to check if my ample-African-woman run for the bus would prove fruitful or not... and, frankly, that's just too much work. I only do juju on special occasions... like if i wanna break someone's balls...or catch a thief ...or get a really cheap ticket to New York - Richard Branson, you are feeling veeeery sleepy... ).

Random thought...

I like it when it's raining/snowing and I'm inside. I can see it but it can't touch me....unless I open the window and hear/feel the brunt of its personality, unless I stick my hand, my face, my tongue out and tell it to claim me.

Once, a snowflake dropped on my pillow. The window wasn't open. I watched it die and turn into a raindrop - the quickest transformation I'd ever seen - a caterpillar in a hurry to transform. I wept for it - my tears became part of it. Am I a raindrop - part of a multitude of lost souls that can't remember who they are? I want to know who I am in my entirety. Am I the sun's daughter? Did I scorch my tongue with her solar rhythm? Does the sun see my strength even when I am bat-blind to it. Does a shadow stroke my womb lovingly? Is my grandmum right here, right now, peering over my shoulder, telling me to just get on with it.

I watched a film the other day - called Pitch Black - about these vampires that only come out when there's an eclipse. They were invisible to the human eye - only one man could see them. Do I wanna be that man? Or would I rather not know and fumble around as I go?

I don't want a car, don't want a mortgage, clothes make my spirit gag and food makes me happy. I hug as much as I can & tell people how lovely they are - because they are. I want him to be happy - I really do - even if it's not with me - he was a troubled soul who I feel was born at the wrong time - if he doesn't realise this, he'll spend the rest of his life trying to understand himself.

just writing...

Plastic bags: an addiction...

My kitchen cupboard's full of plastic shopping bags like i'm some kind of squirrel. I'm improving - there was a time when the hoarding got so bad, the bags were leaking out the other end of the cupboard. But now, i sometimes walk with the cupboard ones when i'm out shopping - when i remember to. I do feel a bit funny when i say 'no, thank you' to a till attendant and whip out my Morrison's bag in a Sainsbury's store, but oh well.

I'm doing well'ish, but i could do better. So, for the next 4 wks, i'm gonna try to:

- listen more often to the ones in the cupboard that are crying out to be re-used - remember to stuff a couple of them in my duffel bag, building up to the degree to which i make sure my keys are in my bag

- make a note of the bags i could have freshly-acquired from one shop or the other...... but didn't! Yey! And when the person at the till offers one, I'll just say 'no thank you 'COS, TA-NAAAAAA, HERE'S ONE I MADE EARLIER!!!'


Is my quest anything to do with global warming, almost-full-to-the-brim land-fill sites, the fact that plastic bags degrade @ a snail's pace? Yes. And no. I'm worried 'bout the environment & the role I play in it. But I also know my level of plastic bag usage is a brainless habit that I want to (and can) nip in the bud.

So there. Let's see how the nxt 4 wks go.

I 'heart' mangoes...

...so I think it's only fitting (lest the gods strike me down) that my first post should be about the succulent fruit!

Me & mangoes? - we go back a long, long way. I believe when I die, they will die with me. Period.

Nigeria. 1981. I was 7 yrs old. Just arrived from England. Everything fascinated me. From the lizards that would nod a 'howdy do' as they passed me by - to the cockroaches who were really black butterflies. And I watched goats bleat 7 times before pushing beauty-full small dark balls of shit out their butts - and watched the way these dark pellets would cascade to the ground and settle in a unique constellation.

I can't remember exactly when I met my 1st mango but I can imagine I was probably going about my business (as most Little Miss 7 yr olds do) - and the mango came bouncing along saying 'eat me' and I said 'are you sure?' and it said 'Mm-hmm'. So I did.

And the sun shone through my little belly for the rest of the day.

That night, like most nights, when there was yet another sudden electricity cut and my grandmother felt her way around for the kerosene lamp, I told her not to worry tonight, and patted my glowing belly.



Hey, if you've got nothing better to do, check out my mango shrine. (no kidding. I do have a mango shrine.)