arriving in this space

rriving in this space There is this new hugde space with incredible views. In our absence a few acres of lanterna growth – the last usurious outgrowth into which one could not step in, has been removed with its roots and a pepper garden with amranth and pumkins has been layed out. The earth is so lash there. In the midth of this new incredible beautiful landscaps with rocks and sourrounded at the bounderis by large evergreen rainforest trees stand the new round shaped mud hut. What a special energy to sit in such a building. Soon we smoke it out and inaugrate it. Just now the doors get painted in sandlewood colour. We still have to make the bambo bed to sleep on and Varun promised to come next week to do a dry toilette nearby In our times with rulers like Trumph, haters oft he wild, beautiful mother earth, humilating any feminine thinking, we do the opposite. That gives a inner fullfilment, the feeling working far off in the jungle not to be swooned or falling in a stuper by the agressive happenings on this globe. Workers here are a massiv problem. Again a suiced in the family of workers. A young good looking healthy man drank poision. It most beb y now the 10th suicede we whitness since we are here. Mostly young man. Maybe the family pressure, the old system of patriarchy expecting the male to go out and fetch the money in India is massiv. In the land, as a farmer the hard work people do is amaszing. Just weh ad brought down massiv dryed up trees -one fell on the house last year – and there is no crane or ladder 3 men did it with ropes and climing up – quite a spectacle to watch. It seems tob e in thei DNA. Work always gets delayed. And still the way the earn is nowhere the same as the can earn on the building site in towns where they than have to live in slums. The slums in India are growing, while the rich are growing masiv with their wealth. Everywhere Modi builds roads, everywhere tourists. We went with so many groups over the last years down to the falls – that is now called pepper falls and over run by jeeps bringing down tourist. The litter and garbish, the noise down there – I just heard horror storries. This ist he other side of tourism in India. I have taken the small 4 year old boy, son of our new cook Selvi, a few days to kindergarden ajusted to a katholic school run by nuns. I taught them some songs. 1 km walk from the gate of Base. The mountain, as is it is floating away into the vast ocean oft he sky, nothing seems tob e off importance and still each little flower seems tob e of importance. I read my first hudge novel translated into english from Kanaada. That was something entererly diffrent from stories in the western world. Importance was given tot he nature and people are seen as one with their surrunding. Their daily life earing, their eating their erotic drive their ailings all blends into the forests that surounded them in far off hills in the end of 18 century. The mad man is not so mad anymore, he seemed just out oft he novel. No more music floats into our space. Maybe the speakers are broken. It is very quite, only birds. Selvi and her mother in law are running in the moment Base kitchen. Like in many cases in the poor society. But they look up to us as boss, as leaders to tell them what to do. Selfiniciation is not known to them.they feel we are the owners of unbelievable wealth, and dont see our imense struggle.