My Uncle Jerry had a curse a mile long, I wish someone had written it down, he’d eventually end it with, ‘Ye serpent ye!’ It was an especially creative curse. Filled with lots of bad stuff it was. I felt sorry for the person on the receiving end and wondered if the recipient thought of the curse when some bad things happened. I woulda. It was a hell of a curse.

Whenever I heard the song, Nell Flaherty’s Drake, I simply thought of it as the ‘curse song.’ I’m not sure any of the older people in my family who introduced us to our Irish musical heritage knew the underlying meaning of the song. It is a fabulous curse song, though. I, for one, would hate to be the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty’s Drake:

May his spade never dig, may his sow never pig
May each hair in his wig be well trashed with the flail
My his door never latch, may his roof have no thatch
May his turkeys not hatch, may the rats eat his meal
May every old fairy from Cork to Dun Laoghaire
Dip him snug and airy in river or lake
That the eel and the trout they may dine on the snout
Of the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty’s drake

May his pig never grunt, may his cat never hunt
May a ghost ever haunt him the dead of the night
May his hens never lay, may his horse never neigh
May his coat fly away like an old paper kite
That the flies and the fleas may the wretch ever tease
May the piercin’ March breeze make him shiver and shake
May a lump of the stick raise the bumps fast and quick
On the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty’s drake

But, with the help of the modern technology and searchable information, I have discovered the song is coded reference of a rebellion against the British in Dublin in the very early 1800s. The rebellion failed and the leader, Robert Emmet, was captured and hanged (also, drawn and quartered, very nasty way to die) for high treason. The ‘drake’ represents Emmet. Nell Flaherty represents his beloved, Sarah Curran. I guess we know who the monster is.

While stumbling around finding information about the song, I came across a website called The Word on the Street which contains a bunch of ‘broadsides’ from Scotland. Very interesting stuff indeed. The original poem about Nell Flaherty’s Drake contains even more curses than the song, and the song has a lot of cursing.

Then there is the auctioning of Mary Mackintosh. Quite the story. Water cooler conversations back in older times must have a been rather lively what with all the hangings and body snatchings and such.

When we last left our favorite nutty South African loon, she seemed okay. Not nutty at all but a rather studious and reserved older woman who appeared pleasant enough. GFVicki was somewhat taken aback by the fact that her neighbor simply brought FL to the door to introduce her, but perhaps that’s what they do in South Africa, it is a pretty laid back place, after all.

We found out that FL has no way of getting around except to walk. She carries a folding stool everywhere she goes for resting along the way. We also gathered that she charms people into giving her rides here and there. Apparently this is what happened with neighbor, Mr. M. She met him at the grocery store and he ended up giving her a ride.

Upon leaving that very first visit, GFVicki loaned FL a couple books and just asked in passing how she came to be staying with the people down the hill. FL said, “Well, that’s a story for another day.” Ok. Not a problem, right? Sometimes stories can be complex. She left. And she forgot her folding stool (I wish it wasn’t called a ’stool’ I think I’ll call it a seat. Ok that doesn’t sound much better).

In between the first and second FL appearance , we were visited by Manuel, the baboon. The next day we’re driving into town and see FL outside the home where she’s staying, we ask how she’s doing and she says it was a horrible day. Something terrible happened but that’s a story for another day and she wouldn’t go into the details but just to know it was a horrible, scary thing that happened and luckily someone helped her.

SECOND RED FLAG flown —–> In my book of red flags, when you’ve just met someone and they start going on and on about how horrible their experiences are, that’s weird. One must be cautious about such people.

GFVicki told her she left her stool. She said she desperately needed it and would come get it tomorrow.

The next day FL comes a-knocking on the door around 10am. GFVicki tells the baboon tale, FL is all interested and amazed etc. She then asks if she could use the internet and phone. She in the office for a while when we hear her getting a bit irritated and vocal to whoever is on the other end. After a bit of a heated conversation, she walks into the living room, completely exasperated and asks why can’t anyone just answer a simple question these days? Ok, well, I’m on vacay so I dunno.

Then, she suggests calling Baboon Matters about our baboon incident. FL gets on the phone with Dave, the Baboon Matters guy, and tells him the horrible, horrible incident about the baboon getting in the house and how this is important and blah blah. Like she’s the president of baboon incidents in South Africa, or sumthin’. Alright, whatever.

THIRD RED FLAG flown —–> She’s a busybody.

She asks what our plans are for the day. We tell her we’re taking the train – maybe into Cape Town. She goes into a diatribe about how horrid the train is, how nasty and stinky and hot and nasty and stinky and horrid the train is – like riding the subway in New York. Sounds like an adventure to us. Oh no, she gasps, it’s the absolute worst thing you could ever do in your life. Absolute. Worst. Ok, FL, so I gather you don’t like the train.

We drop FL off at her place and Dave of Baboon Matters is waiting. FL and GFVicki get out of the car to talk to Dave. That’s when I make the declaration, “That woman is trouble.”  I got out of the car to move up to the front seat and FL shouts to me in a sarcastic tone, “Elizabeth, I hope you like the train. Make sure you get a seat by the window!” I shout back saying I’m sure the train will be perfectly acceptable to us, we’ll be OK.

THIRD RED FLAG flown —–> She’s a persistent, pain in the ass

Part 3: The Tale of Woe

This past weekend was full of activity. It was, as they might say, abuzz. Thing were abuzzing. We actually got out of the house and, like the party animals we are, stayed out way late (you know, midnight – yeah hardcore!) on both Friday and Saturday.

Friday we stepped out to our favorite tapas restaurant with GFEdna for eats and drinks and dancing to the cumbia band playing that night. Admittedly, I don’t know how to dance, I don’t think I’m a particularly good dancer but because I’m particularly good at making a fool of myself – I dance. I do like to dance and really, who cares as long as you’re having fun, yes?

GFEdna is originally from El Salvador. She asks us, ‘When are yeuuu going to veeseet my cown-tree?” Because we have told her we would really like to veeseet her cown-tree. So, the plans have been started. We can stay with her mother or sister in San Salvador, we will take a side trip to Guatamala, eat lots of pupusas and dance, dance, dance. Edna is teaching us all the curse words – she is a big party in a little package.

It was Spanish food and Mexican music on Friday, then Saturday we went to the opening of an exhibition for Nigerian born multi-media artist, Folasayo Dele-ogunrinde. The exhibition was coordinated by ARTreach, a non-profit arts organization started by my BFFTerri. The queen and I both volunteer for ARTreach. I do their website and marketing. It makes me feel like I’m contributing to the greater good and not just sucking up air and using precious resources without reciprocity.

photo courtesy of Sandy Buller

It was a fun evening. The basic theme throughout Folasayo’s visual and spoken word art is that women have to put up with a lot of crap from men. I recently found an essay written a few years ago by a man who wonders why the artist is so angry at men. Personally, I don’t think she’s angry at men, I do think anytime a woman doesn’t exalt men to the pedestal they believe they’re entitled to, they think they’re hated. Criticizing men = You hate all men. Men do bad shit. Not all men do bad shit. But the men who do bad shit, that shit is really bad. She’s basically pointing that out.

Keeping women from voting and going to school is a patriarchal form of oppression. It’s hard to give men a glowing review when they feel the need to treat women like so much livestock. It’s hard to give men a glowing review when they get pissed off that Apple took away their I-Boob app but they don’t get pissed off about rape.

I thought the most compelling piece of the night was her short film titled, The Hunt. It’s brilliantly creepy – really well done. Not a video to view at work or with small children around.

Yesterday, I did some sidewalk chalk drawing. There are photos, I’ll post when I get them.  BFFTerri bought kids sidewalk chalk, lots of colors – all the same intensity – day-glo bright.  Let me just say, I woulda eaten a can of Spam if it meant I could get a contrasting color.

During our visit to South Africa, in between the beautiful scenery and baboon break-in, a side drama started to unfold. It began with a knock on the door. That’s when neighbor Mr. M brought her to visit. The queen dubbed her ‘Fruit Loops’ and GFVicki is keeping us entertained with official Fruit Loop updates since our departure.

I do not want to reveal her real name for fear she may Google it and find this little tale. Not that it would be a big deal, I suppose, her being half way around the world and all. Still, she is called Fruit Loops for a reason and fruit loopy people are known to do fruit loopy things. But I’ll give you a hint – her name is similar to Joann except replace the ‘Jo’ with -

then add ‘Ann’ to it and you get Fruit Loops’ real name. Lest you think she actually looks like the actor above (women are actors so just get over it), then you think wrong. No, she looks more like older Mary Tyler Moore meets Emily Dickinson at an LL Bean conference where everyone wears big glasses from the 80s -

We had only been in Simon’s Town for two days when Mr. M came knocking on the door to introduce Fruit Loops to “another American in town” – GFVicki. Because she is a gracious person, GFVicki invites FL in for a little chat where we hear about how she is in South Africa because she used to live in Switzerland but because visa rules are changing there she had to leave until she gets the proper documents in order. In retrospect, I’m guessing the Swiss kicked her out and filed her status under ‘Nuttiest Fruit Cake Americans In Swiss History.’

Yet, at the time of her first visit, she seemed like a congenial older woman, claimed she was in SA to do research on African penguins, was staying with a family around the corner in a room they usually rent but the people who live there won’t let her use the phone or internet and… FIRST RED FLAG flown —–> she has no money.

Gotta go. More later.

…are very patient. It’s like mousetrap for the 21st century.