Green Green
Green Green is a reminder that each moment gifted, is an eternity of longing.
The Dervish called out of the blue. Well, more like out of the grey. Which is all one can see on the horizon. A skyful of grey and a narrow band of green in as many shades of green as you can imagine. The Zulu Kingdom has every shade of green you’ve seen and all the greens you can only ever see here. The current billet is somewhat rural, north of the city and slightly inland. The entire landscape initially looks like a swathe of forest green but seen under the mizzle grey of soft, steady and seemingly unending spring rains, the subtle and less subtle differences emerge. It helps no end, to have the time available to sit and stare out at this vista of greens.
Soon enough the sage green starts to show itself, washed clean by the drip-drip from the larger trees. Then you notice the fern greens which kinda makes sense given the proliferation of ferns in the still largely untouched forests. In patches there’s apple green, which oddly enough are not apples but small fields of spinach. Then there’s cabbage green although I’m sure there’s a far more eloquent if not confusing name for their specific shade of green. A stand of lemon trees show off the almost lime green of their new leaves. There’s the jade green of the curry leaf trees (no, I’ve no idea of their official name) left to run wild. The clumps of banana plants add their bright green to the picture. Their new leaves almost seafoam green under the by now battleship grey sky. It’s time to retreat from under the dark green mango tree to a human made shelter as the mizzle picks up to a light shower.
I settle in on the dog couch on the small stoep and after the silence of taking in the surroundings, the Dervish says: I’m green with envy.
We share a chuckle at the dad joke but she’s not done. Envy Green, is that an official shade of green?
The dogs are not happy with my colonisation of their couch and try to eat the phone. Channelling my inner rabid coloniser, I shoo them away, pulling up a cardboard box to make a flimsy border between the dogs and myself. I exhale and settle down to continue the call — this time, pulling up a chair to rest my feet on. A farm in Africa (with apologies to Isak Dinesen) comes to my innocent, victimised colonisers mind. I share as much with the Dervish and this elicits a sad chuckle.
We meander briefly (but still too long for my liking) into the unsurprising turn of events at the HQ of the Fourth Reich over at 1600 Pennsylvania and what this means for everyone not white, straight and male (or adjacent to this false apex) type. There’s nothing new in our conversation that’s not been present in human history since the dark ages. Might be why it’s referred to as the dark ages — when the balance of civilisation (and power) was violently shifted towards the pale male and centred there with some trickle down to all who accept and obey such an arrangement.
I’ve missed these reminders of how we did not end up here but have been headed here for most of modern civilization. Also, I’m green with envy at the ease with which you move between spaces. I had a sense you might be close by; come visit. It’s been too long, says the Dervish.
I commit to a visit and we close off the shortest call we’ve ever had.
Green with envy is a reminder that each moment gifted, is an eternity of longing.
© Jesh Baker for Oppi Stoep 2024, All Rights Reserved
