Posts by Category: Life

May I have a word please? Helga on inspiration

 

Having been afforded the opportunity to be the first Guest Blogger on chandalalaland I thought it best to start by introducing myself.

My name is Helga Geerhart and I have known Chanda for 3 years.  I am a part time accountant and store assistant and a full time mum.

I love period dramas, have a knack for Dimsum and I’m a Chelsea fan.

My passions include music and literature and I’m generally a happy go-lucky person (most dates).

To kick things off I have decided to write about something I have been dealing with lately, that is,  where to find my inspiration.

So who is your inspiration?

My ten year old son took part in a school book project a year ago where the children were asked to identify and write about who or what inspired them.

Rape is NOT funny

The dust has settled over the university campuses in Halifax and British Columbia but the rage within me still pulsates.

Losing a friend

I’ve dealt with death many times in my life.  I’ve written post about it before.  From a very young age I’ve had close friends and family members pass and I guess I’ve been able to somehow deal with it and move on.  Till now.

Love

It’s the 40^th year of my parent’s marriage.  When I think about this great milestone it almost brings tears to my eyes mostly because I’m not there to celebrate with them.  I cannot begin to express the admiration and immense love I have for them.  They are the greatest examples of love and respect and best expressions of the vows: for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.

Ignorance is not bliss

“There’s no health, without mental health”.   It’s this singular reason why I’ve been wanting to write a post about mental health (awareness) for a while now.  On Feb 12, Bell will have their ‘Let’s Talk’ Campaign, which encourages consumers to talk about mental illness and while I definitely support this initiative, I think mental health awareness should be carried out everyday.

An Ode to my Dad

I haven’t forgotten, Dad, about our long silent trips to school on the dusty road to Masaiti.

 

I haven’t forgotten about how the car would break down and you would recruit the locals to help change the tire. I would be embarrassed, but it would also make me giggle because it was typical you.

Entering the world of Mum

It doesn’t take getting pregnant for me to appreciate my mum.  I always have, often quietly, thinking about how she put up with me, let alone my two older siblings.

Superwoman

She looks like me.

She’s young and she’s old.

She’s short and she’s tall.

Her skin is soft, sometimes wrinkled, and sometimes not.

 

Her eyes are dark hazel like the smooth mocha chino that she likes to  drink,

And that I steal sips from.