Thoughts about Home
Thoughts about Home
I’m in the car with my gringa dreaming of going home to a fish dinner when she abruptly pulls off the paved road onto gravel. oh geesh what now?
I give her that look. (you know I’m really hungry and could we just go home look) Out the window is a campfire, with 5 boys sitting around it. I stay in the car because I am not especially fond of campfires especially with 5 teenagers.
Minutes later she comes back and as always gently pulls me out of the car into her arms. no matter how bad the next few moments might get this second is heaven.
up we go the to the fire and the boys all pull out their cameras to get my picture, but wait first, they pull out their own dogs. I must say they were quite crude leashes made from chain and ropes but once again proof that Islamic people, at least many do really like dogs. The dogs told me that they do not know what the leashes are for or how to use them so they often get yanked around without reason.
We recommend CAPITOL VET in Muscat only due to their good customer service. They will bring the paper to the Muscat airport and leave it with the correct customs vet for you. I don’t know any other vet in Muscat Oman who provides this service included.
I had two conversations with the U.S.D.A export gatekeepers at the main office in the U.S today. They now have the export agricultural paper online which can be downloaded then taken to your local vet. This still requires that your pet have all the necessary rabie shots and that you get this stamped by the vet. This export paper to Oman needs to be acquired at the latest date before leaving as it is only vailid inside of OMan for 7 days.
The custom’s agent in Oman will want the pink carbon copy and the original.I’m hoping they will update the system so that the wasteful carbon copy is eliminated.
thoughts from my dairy. . . I come to Oman to “teach” or to cover the sand over my eyes so I cannot see the the eyes that I could not help, the men that I cannot stop, the wars and fighting that escalate. Guatemala, Iraq, DRC. a child recalling the memories of family, a bullet in his head, her head, the rapes, the beating, the disappeared. I thought I could change you, one or two. Show you, tell you and you would certainly do something different… But you didn’t know the little girl, she gave me her kitten. Did she know she would die? Did you sigh for her? Did you put down your cup of cafe and cry for her? Teach me you, how can I reach you? Have you seen so many, learnt so much you are finished? Oman cover me with your sands, let me see the heavens through your skies. let me think here, forget or remember? Thank God for Elliot here! Woof Woof
In one week the Olympic Trials begin in Eugene Oregon. Lots of interesting things happen during the summer in Eugene Oregon. July it’s the country fair which was begun by Ken Kesey and his family.
Ken Kesey, in case you missed it wrote, “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” a great American Novel which shook a lot of people up. Honesty always does. Well here I am with a memory of a great man who was not afraid to take risks and write about them. In honor of Ken Kesey, check out prozac photos
She shaved me. Brutal. I can feel the air on my skin and for a dog this is a strange and odd sensation. I was so mad but then we went outside from this barber and it began to rain. It tickled my skin and I wanted to run run run. Since we had come on a bicycle I had a great ride back home with the ginga. Well I am a little embarrassed to really show my skin online to strangers being the modest Guatemalan – American – Oman dog that I am. If you have photos of your dog send them to me and I can post them!
If you are interested in international work in media – photography visit the gringa’s website here http://www.borkgrenphoto.net
Just smell this air. I can smell memories. The lives that were here, the dreams and the children running through the village. It is still here. Well the smell is at least. These “ruins” are where the grandmothers and grandfathers lived. Today they have moved to modern homes with washing machines. No more public chats around the waterhole.
Nomads, goats, camels, rusty old pieces of cloth, a few donkey feet laying around but all is good. All these old houses have been replaced by oil money and 13 bedroom houses today. I run run run through these old walled villages and nothing stops me but a smell now and then that seeps into my deepest soul. I love running through the smells, the texture of rocks mud and straw that binds these old homes together.
Also check out this photography site for photojournalism, weddings and Photographer workshops http://www.BorkgrenPhoto.net
Making a New Friend isn’t always so easy= but never give up.