"You can have this one if you want, it's pretty big." She slides a black bag over to my feet and I regard it silently. I have been scouring the web and sending emails requesting advice on what exactly to bring to Africa. I'm looking for the essential list. Although I've been before, there are striking differences here. I'm traveling with 2 children, we're going to be staying for what seems like a long time (although, as with most school years, it's certain to fly by once it gets going) and I'll be working.
I've got the medical items down and the personal items but what will the boys do to entertain themselves? We've never had a huge supply of toys but playing outside is really big. Do we try to bring basketballs, bikes...? There will be virtually no mail service (so I'm told) which makes me feel even more cut off...no surprise packages, no Internet mail orders, no Hey-I-forgot-to-pack-the-____ -Could-you-send-it-out?
Then there are teaching supplies. What exactly do I need? want? What will be available? I like to pride myself on traveling light yet always being prepared. It is becoming a bit difficult to do both simultaneously. I'm looking for the secret list that will tell me, if you just be sure to pack these things, you'll have everything you need.
I have actually found quite a few lists. But they seem to be lacking in some fundamental way. They don't get to the heart of who you really are...as a traveller, as a person, as an artist. Then there's the person you want to be; this is the trap of bringing things because, while you haven't actually painted in more than 5 years, you want to and being in Africa, you just might find the time to. I'm trying to avoid this trap. I know the thing I will miss most is the kitchen drawer, the one that holds all the odds and ends, the possibilities for projects, the inspiration for creativity, the answers to those late night puzzles.
I eye the bag on the floor, the one she has slid across to me, with rollers on the bottom- a good feature for someone whose hands are perpetually full, juggling children and keys, bags and coffee.
"You can have this one if you want." I'm struck by the enormity of my task, the impossibility. I'm bound to miss some things. "It's pretty big." Not if you're trying to fit your whole life in there, I think.
