I heard, a couple of days ago, of the death of an old friend, Josy Tencent.
Back in the 1990s, she initiated and organised the Beijing town poetry reading series Noise for Beginners, which is still going strong, although rather obviously in very different hands. It was there that I, and many other locals, first read poetry to a public audience. It was there that I first met many poets, some of whom became lifelong friends. She created a living community of poets.
Josy felt it was important to help those less fortunate. She spent many years supporting and organising funds for a group of people in Moscow, whom she visited more than once. When I met her in Beijing, she sometimes darted off to talk a beggar she didn’t recognise: she wanted to ensure that anyone who was forced to beg should be immediately put in contact with the appropriate charities and support services. If need be, she’d hook them all up together herself.
I know she was once an art buyer, although I don’t know the detail, and I didn’t meet her until after she’d left that profession. All the same, her knowledge and background meant I valued her commentary on my photography as well as my poetry. Ironically, despite this, despite being a keen photographer, I never took a photo of her. I found the unattributed image you see here on her faceboot profile.
There is something of a belief that when two Brits really know each other well, they constantly insult each other. Josy was one of the few people with whom I did that. Every time we had a conversation, every few months or so, the happy flow and insults would fly. Indeed, if the pixie botherers are somehow right after all and she’s reading this despite being dead, I want to assure her that, no matter what we said to each other many times, I will not dance on her grave—no one will tell me where it is.
She loved to travel, and told some glorious tales of her misadventures. When I last spoke to her a few weeks ago, she mentioned again her desire to visit us in Luxembourg. Regretably, she was never able to do so.
She suffered from ill health in her old age, but took that in her stride. Although, unsurprisingly, when in pain she could be rather grumpy, most of the time she was her usual joyous self. I hope, if I reach that stage of life, I can be as happy and good company as she was.
I’m going to miss the old girl.