Notes From Above-ground

"Push your old numbers, and let your house ring
Until I wake your ghost" Kristin Hersh, "Your Ghost"

In this exquisite suburbia called V&G Subdivision where I spent part of my joyous childhood and all of my reckless youth, one constant fixture in the neighborhood was Mano Steve, the friendly mailman.

In bustling Santan Street, across rows of familiar houses, heaps of dog-shit, rowdy cats engaging in carnal pleasure, and neighbors in serious discussion of masiao results, Mano Steve would linger at our gate for small talk and a glass of water. Even if there was no letter to deliver, he would drop by.

His famous greeting was “Nobody cares.” That was his punchline each time there was no letter to hand over. Hell, he said it all the time to me, almost crushing my romanticism. He’s long retired and I don’t know the current mailman. The ones delivering various bills have various faces and they’re always on a rush.

Well, Mano Steve, somebody bothers to care. Got this email from my loyal roommate at Ipil. Before those spies browse through my mails, let me just make their lives sweeter by spilling the beans, “ighuwad it monggo,” so to speak:

Got back from a four-day hike in Elgon, one of the highest mountains in East Africa last Sunday. It was tedious, adventurous (especially with the rainy season!!) and brilliant! My goodness! to describe beauty is ineffable! Was lost for words. There were a lot of times I was awed and mesmerized on what was surrounding me, moments I wish I could be immortal to experience these little wonders.

Unlike my Brit friends who had the Union Jack with them, didn't have anything with me (pen or paper) to prove I was conquering the top for you. You were in my heart as I was ascending. I was climbing Elgon for my friend who is a true heroine.

love you lots,
me xx

Thanks for the heartfelt tribute, Turabsoy. It’s all engraved here in my promiscuous heart. Next time, you don’t need to punish yourself that hard. Just send me a postcard from Costa Rica.