Kwach Yambo's Last Journey in Gaia

1. At 4:30 AM on 25 July 2015, I so cheerfully and optimistically posted this tweet "#ObamaInKenya: Me & Mine (Wife, Daughter), the boys being out n about, toasted #AirForceOne's landing in #Nairobi w/ a glass of wine. Cheers". Not long after, I tweeted: "We're v. pleased about it. The boys too. No reason to feel otherwise, or hide the fact!"

Little did I know that, even as I celebrated, things had already gone horribly, horribly wrong for my family. Kwach died that night in a terrible car accident in Thika, but the news did not reach us until just before noon on July 25th. 

I posted these tweets on July 26th to document the horror:

1. "1. #Kwach, 1 of the boys, isn't ever coming home. He died in a car accident in #Thika abt six hrs after #Auma entered #TheBeast"

   "It's hard. We're feeling the pain right now. For #Kwach. For us. With the extended family. His friends. His siblings' friends"  t eve

We've been mourning. A collective sort of mourning inside Kwach's amazing network and circles of durable friendships. Friends I personally didn't even know, and couldn't have imagined, he had. More friends than I ever had, 

Now, as we prepare to bury Kwach the networker this Saturday (8th August), I/we share with all those who knew and cherished him, and who remember him and who will miss him just as fondly as we do and will, this text: Kwach's Funeral and Burial Programme


You may also wish to read: Kwach Yambo ~ A Father's Tribute

Blue Marble Gaia

Here's my toast
To Blue Marble
Gaia.

Upside-down upside.
As seen.
Aboard Apollo
17,
Moonward. 

That
December 7,
1972.

++++++++

Here: Click


_____________________________________________________
Reference: 
http://www.ehartwell.com/InfoDabble/Apollo_17:_The_Blue_Marble

October Rain in Gaia

["My mother is a fish" ~ J. Steinbeck]

Cold wind plows the ether, and plows there, gathering clouds in uneven, woebegone thotes.

Still, a felt frontal temp 'trop'.

Imagine, then, in that troopin townward, a bloody nuclear 'winder' and else that, let us further imagine, goes with it. How cataclysmic it would have been back in the day; how, lest we forget what ain't there (really) to remember, it would in its fullness, in a refreshed nightmare scenario, p.

And still, an October rain.
A passionate embrace of liquid presence like no other we want to remember just now.

And then.

This passion which is like no other.
This presence which is like no other.

We don't want to remember any another just now.

To c any another.

And we don't want to remember the 'trout' except by a flick --
of the imagination.

Flickerer's closer to his mother than she, she, thinks.









Redone (some): October 25-26, 2018