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March 31, 2006
One Reason
I am often asked why I left South Africa twenty years ago. There are many reasons. I accidentally found one of the reasons (in the form of a journal entry) while looking through my filing cabinet of old notes this morning:
At first I thought it was a joke.
I mean, why would anyone arrest me? As far as I could remember I had not mugged, robbed or embezzled anyone.
It happened during basic training in the South African army. I knew trouble was brewing the instant I saw the regimental policeman approaching my tent.
"Who is Romain?" he said in a thick South African accent.
I looked around my tent. There was nobody else but me.
"I guess that would be me," I said.
"Come with me," he said.
"Why?" I asked. "I need to get ready for inspection. I'm going to get into trouble if I'm not ready"
"You're already in trouble," he said taking my arm, not so gently.
He escorted me to the little brick building at the entrance to 4th Field regiment.
The little brick building we all feared with our lives.
The little brick building where soldiers who got into trouble were dealt with.
I honestly did not know what I had done wrong. Let me rephrase that. I honestly did not know what I had done wrong that anybody knew about.
I wasn't a saint, but I could not think of anything I had done in recent memory that was an arrestable offence.
I ran through a list of possible scenarios as the little Gestapo wanna-be pushed me into the charge office.
I kept going through possible reasons for my arrest.
To be honest, I did forge a signature a few months before to get a weekend pass.
But everyone did that.
I did take some extra potatoes when nobody was looking at dinner one night.
But everyone did that.
I did fantasize about the sergeant major's daughter
But everyone did that.
I did badmouth the South Africa government's apartheid laws.
Hmm. Not everyone did that.
The door opened and in stepped the Commandant.
I stood up.
"Sit down and shut up," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder as he pushed me back onto the seat.
The man had strong hands. His thumb and forefinger grabbed the muscles in my shoulder and gripped them like a vice.
I grimaced.
"You sometimes collect blankets and food for the black kids in town," he said.
"Yes, sir. I'm hoping to help start a…"
"Why?"
"Because they are poor and it's cold, sir. Some of them don't have shoes."
"There are a lot of white kids without shoes, mampara." (Idiot.) Charity starts at home."
"These kids are very poor Commandant and…"
"You bladdy Englishman don't realize that those kids don't feel the cold man. They have leather feet. They are Africans."
I said nothing.
"The problem is, you see, is that you have been giving them stolen property."
"I'm not sure…"
"What do you mean you're not sure? It has been brought to my attention that old South African Army issue blankets have been given to these people."
"Yes, sir, they have."
""Why?"
"Because someone told me they were being thrown away," I said. "They are worn out and…"
The Commandant glared at me.
"Get out of here," he said. "I've got a bladdy camp to run."
The commandant turned to the regimental policeman who had brought me in.
"Stuur hom terug, man. (Send him back, man.) Kaffir boetie," he mumbled under his breath. (A derogatory term for black lover.)
"Don't let me catch you giving away army property again," he said.
"Yes, Colonel," I replied, pocketing a handful of mint candy that was in the bowl alongside where I was sitting.
Later that day, I gave the candy to a group of appreciative African kids who were huddled around the camp's gate, draped in old South African Army blankets.
Posted by trevor at 07:07 AM | Comments (3)
March 30, 2006
A Little Chat
Today I had an imaginary talk with Storm the studio cat:
"Hey Storm."
"Hey."
"Ummm, you're sitting on my canvas."
"Yeah, I know."
"You're kinda stopping me from painting."
"Yeah, I know."
"You're hampering progress."
"Yeah, I know."
"Why?"
"Because I'm helping you."
"How are you helping me, Storm?"
"I'm helping you procrastinate."
"What do you mean?"
"Well you've been staring at this blank canvas
for like an hour, so I thought I get in your way
and give you a real excuse for not paining."
"You're smart, Storm."
"Yeah, I know."
Posted by trevor at 09:06 AM | Comments (1)
March 28, 2006
No Words
I have just returned back from the most incredible and unforgettable trip to New Zealand. Jetlag has robbed me of words but a picture tells a thousand stories.
Posted by trevor at 05:08 PM | Comments (3)
March 27, 2006
March 27th
Posted by trevor at 10:02 AM | Comments (1)
March 24, 2006
March 24th
Posted by trevor at 05:06 PM | Comments (0)
March 22, 2006
March 22nd
Posted by trevor at 02:38 PM | Comments (2)
March 20, 2006
March 20th
Posted by trevor at 10:47 AM | Comments (3)
March 17, 2006
March 17th
Posted by trevor at 12:37 PM | Comments (3)
March 15, 2006
March 15th
http://www.trevorromain.com/media/soundtrack.php
Posted by trevor at 04:09 PM | Comments (1)
March 14, 2006
March 14th
Posted by trevor at 04:23 PM | Comments (1)
March 12, 2006
Children Of The Dawn
The sun rises in Morgan Bay and pulls with it the deepest blue sky imaginable. There is a long dirt road under the sky that winds its way through the lush green foliage and abruptly ends where the horizon meets the sea. Embracing the loose end of this road is a village called Morgan Bay.
The beach is one of the most beautiful in South Africa. The cliffs and pounding breakers leave you breathless.
The lagoon is calm and quiet reflecting the rich rolling hills that surround it. Morgan Bay is absolute paradise.
Paradise for everyone who visits the bay and for the folks who own homes, hotels and real estate there. But not for the local Xhosa children.
The children live with their families in a dilapidated 'location' overlooking Morgan Bay. (Location is a word used by the old South African government for the place black workers in most towns were forced to live in.) Today - in the Morgan Bay 'location' - there is still no indoor plumbing and no hot water. Actually there is no water inside at all because the faucets are outside the houses.
Most of the inhabitants of Morgan Bay’s 'location' work for the small hotels and guesthouses in the area. The children who live there walk at least three miles a day to get to school. Most of them have no shoes.
Although they live in one of the most beautiful valleys along the breathtaking Wild Coast, the children here have tattered and torn clothes. They have no televisions. No video games. No books. No Ipods. And no money. All they have are friends, family and their dreams.
I always marvel at how happy and hopeful these children seem to be despite their circumstances. How they get by with so very little. How polite and friendly they are. How they can entertain themselves with wire and wooden cotton spools. How they seem to have so much hope when all I can see is despair.
I can't imagine living without my cell phone, let alone having no toilet, no electricity and no running water in my house.
Every time I feel hard done by I think of the amazing children of Morgan Bay.
It makes me realize how extremely lucky and fortunate I am.
Bless the children of Morgan Bay. May the dawning of the second decade of the new South Africa - and the echo of Nelson Mandela's dreams - bring them hope for the future.
(I took the pictures above at a daycare center created by the wonderful folks at the Morgan Bay hotel for the kids of their employees who live in the location.)
Posted by trevor at 02:52 PM | Comments (0)
I will be in and around New Zealand until March the 26th. There will be new entries posted while I'm away (and defying gravity) so please stay tuned. Feel free to leave a comment and I will post those when I get back.
Posted by trevor at 12:09 PM | Comments (1)
March 09, 2006
Right In Front Of Me
I spent some time at a coffee shop this morning. I will certainly do myself a disservice (and lose credibility as a starving artist in the art community) if I mention the name of the coffee shop, but it starts with an s and ends with an s and has a tar and a buck in the middle somewhere.)
The coffee was expensive.
The muffin was expensive.
The clothing worn by the majority of coffee sippers was expensive.
The cars outside the coffee shop were expensive.
The lawyer who was talking to me was expensive.
The petrol used to drive over to the coffee shop was expensive.
The funny thing was that the best part of my coffee shop experience this morning was absolutely FREE.
Yup, The most exhilarating, satisfying, aahhh-producing, heart rate elevating, euphoric, satisfying and certainly the most memorable part of my visit to the coffee shop cost me nothing. Nada. Not a peanut.
Yes, the best part of my day was sketching while waiting for my appointment to arrive.
I drew the sketch (above) with my favorite old fountain pen and I actually used a water-filled paintbrush using Earl Grey tea - yes tea - instead of water to wash around the edges of the sketches.
Yet again I learn that some of the most pleasurable and satisfying things in life are free and just waiting to be enjoyed.
When am I going to stop being totally surprised each time I discover that what I want is right in front of me, not somewhere else?
Posted by trevor at 04:30 PM | Comments (3)
March 06, 2006
Striking The Right Chord
I was sitting and playing my guitar this morning. I hit one of the strings and the ensuing note struck a chord deep inside me. It was an interesting trigger. In a nanosecond the sound took me back in time to where that chord first embedded itself in my soul.
It's incredible how fast it happened. One minute I was sitting in my studio with my guitar and the next second I was a boy of nine or ten sitting in my bed in the middle of the night.
I'm not sure what woke me up, but I felt a little insecure in the dark and went to my parent's room to see if they were awake.
I sometimes felt scared at night and I would stand by their door just to hear them breath. The steady sound of their slow deep-sleep breathing soothed me.
That night, as I approached my parent's room, I noticed that my dad's studio light was on.
I tiptoed up the stairs and peeked into the studio door.
Only his desk lamp was on and the room was bathed in a warm light.
My dad was hunched over his drawing board with his elbows on the board and his face resting in his hands.
I didn't want to disturb him, so I just stood and watched.
It was only minutes, but it felt like hours.
His radio was on softly. The Mama's and the Papa's were singing California Dreamin'.
I have always loved the opening chord from that song.
Finally I cleared my throat.
My dad looked up.
"Oh, hi Trev," he said, extending his arms toward me. "How's it going my boy?"
"You okay?" I asked, as he wrapped his arms around me.
"Rough day. Lot on my mind."
I knew that we were struggling financially and my dad was desperately trying to make a living as an artist. It really hurt him that he could not support us like he wanted to.
"Is it money?" I asked.
"Among other things," he said. "You couldn't sleep either, huh?"
"Yeah," I said, snuggling into his chest.
I felt safe and secure wrapped in his arms.
"Can I help?" I asked, leaning back and looking into his kind but tired eyes.
I was saving for my very first guitar and had a jar full of money.
I would happily have given him every cent.
" Yeah you can help," he said, softly.
"How?" I asked.
"C'mere and hold me." He said, putting his arms around me again.
"Just hold me. That will really help."
He was crying.
I held my dad for the longest time.
Posted by trevor at 07:02 PM | Comments (2)
Another Spin
I am so chuffed because I have been invited to take another spin around the globe this year.
I will be visiting Wellington, New Zealand next week to speak at Blog Hui, New Zealand's first international blog conference. My host, Lynsey Gedye, has really organized a great, groundbreaking event and I'm honored to be a part of it. I will also be teaching a writer's workshop, meeting great people, looking at sheep and hopefully watching a game of rugby while I am there.
If you live in New Zealand or just want to quit your job, drain your bank account and jump on a plane to Wellington to attend the conference or the workshop, please visit www.bloghui.org for details.
Posted by trevor at 09:41 AM | Comments (0)
March 02, 2006
Action
I shot a television commercial years ago in a stunningly beautiful, but poor, rural area in South Africa.
There was a group of little African kids who followed us around as we filmed. They must have been around six or seven years old.
Sometimes the crew got irritated with the kids and chased them off. I didn't mind the kids at all. I was actually inspired by their awe and interest.
One young boy named Tuli was particularly fascinated with the process. He was very interested in what we were doing. Although he couldn't speak English he indicated that he wanted to look through the camera. I loved his enthusiasm and let him stand on an apple crate to look through the lens.
This became a ritual. After setting up each shot, I would let him look through the lens. Then he'd step down and look at me.
"Action?" he would say.
"Action," I would reply nodding, and he would giggle heartily.
Other than "hello boss", "action" was the only English words he knew.
Tuli approved every single shot for me. (His approval must have helped because we garnered numerous awards for the commercial.)
We shot one particular scene on the banks of a mountain stream and I slipped on some moss-covered rocks and fell into the shallow water. I got completely drenched and banged up my arm. In the process I hit my watch on a rock.
The first person to give me a hand was Tuli. He and his little group of buddies eagerly helped me up.
I discovered later that my watch had stopped working.
A the end of the day we wrapped the shoot and I took off my broken watch. I was about to toss in the trash when one of the African crew members said, "Don't throw your watch away. Give it to one of the little kids. Those guys can't afford watches."
"But it's broken," I replied. "
"That's okay," he said.
"But what’s the use of having a watch if you can't tell the time?" I asked.
The crewmember chuckled. "We Africans don't use watches to tell the time anyway. We rely on nature. We use the roosters to wake us up in the morning and a grumbling tummy tells us when it’s time to eat. The watch for him will be a huge status symbol."
I still wasn't sure why someone would like a broken watch, but I took the man's advice and gave the watch to Tuli.
You should have seen the look on his face. It was priceless.
All the other kids rushed around him and ooohed and aaahed at his new watch. I cannot tell you how full my heart felt at that moment. (Even thinking about now it fills me with emotion.)
We shot for the next few days and every day Tuli arrived proudly wearing his watch.
I realized later it wasn't the watch that was important, but the fact that I acknowledged the existence of an enthusiastic little boy instead of chasing him away like the other crewmembers did.
I went back to the region a few years later to shoot a sequel to the commercial and lo and behold who should appear but an older and wiser Tuli. He wasn't wearing his watch, but he hugged me with such exuberance when he saw me. Again he followed the crew and approved every shot before we began filming. (This time, jokingly, I asked him if he thought the lighting was good and the framing of the shot was okay. He nodded vigorously every time.)
He came back the second morning of the shoot and approached me carrying a cloth in his hand. He unwrapped the cloth and in it was the watch I had given him almost three years before.
He look up at me and grinned.
I smiled back, patting him on the shoulder.
I keep that moment in a special place in my heart. The exchange is one of my favorite memories of all time.
"Yabonga baas, (thank you, boss), " he said, wrapping the watch carefully back into the cloth.
He put the cloth gently back into his pocket and smiled.
"Action?" he said, pointing to the scene we were about to shoot.
"Action," I nodded, and we walked toward the camera together.
Posted by trevor at 02:18 PM | Comments (2)
March 01, 2006
You Will Fly
There is a little boy I know who shares my family tree. A sweet and charming kid whose life is like a hurricane in a jar.
All this little boy wants to do is play and imagine and laugh and wake up feeling safe and secure every morning.
All he wants is to be is a normal little boy who does not have to hide under his bed when his evening prayers are disrupted by a minor war ricocheting down the hallway outside his room.
All he wants to do is go to bed without having to cover his ears.
All he wants to know is if the "all clear" really means "all clear" or will the promises and tears he continually overhears prove hollow yet again and he will have to brace himself for another onslaught.
Distance and circumstances do not allow me to comfort this precious little boy in the flesh - which I would give anything to do - so I instead I wrote a song for him and for anyone else who is going trough a tough time right now.
YOU WILL FLY
When you need to fly
But you’ve lost your wings
When the road takes a turn
Through unfamiliar things
When all of your hopes
Shatter just like a glass
Slipping out of your hands
Take a moment to breath in
Another day will soon begin
It’ll take a little time
So put your hand in mine
It’s OK if you need to cry
We’ll share a tear & brave the pain together
Some things happen for a reason
Others simply happen and
We never find the reason why
But have faith… (that) in time, you will fly
When the puzzle’s so hard
It just hurts your brain
When you can’t feel the strength
Running through your own veins
When somebody’s shaken
Your snow globe world
‘Till you’re upside down
Wait till all the snowflakes fall
You will rise above it all
It’ll take a little time
So put your hand in mine
It’s OK if you need to cry
We’ll share a tear & brave the pain together
Some things happen for a reason
Others simply happen and
We never find the reason why
But have faith… (‘cause) in time, you will fly
My friends Carl Thiel and Lisa Tingle helped me with the song. Carl wrote and produced the music. (Which I think is incredible) It was sung by the amazing Rachel Loy. Thank you guys for helping me to embrace those "in need of comfort" with this powerful piece of music.
Listen to the song: http://www.trevorromain.com/media/music.php
The song is the theme song from my latest animated video "Taking The Duh Out Of Divorce." Available now.
"One Of A Kind" An album of songs from our video series (including this song) will be available in a couple of weeks. Watch this space for details.
Posted by trevor at 04:05 PM | Comments (4)