I need to write about the last few days while we are here. I think once we are a thousand miles away, this time will seem a thousand days away. It has been very intense. I am feeling crabby and irritable and it is showing. Even escapes to the park do little to dampen the fires that spring between us, myself and the children, the children amongst themselves. I would almost be content to pass my days reading, and actually have read several interesting novels. But I feel I should be doing something. I'm just not sure what it is.
The children seem more physical lately, and fighting incessantly. Perhaps I am just more sensitive to the insults. Or maybe it is easier to say goodbye when you are mad, as was pointed out by an observant someone.
Last night we went to the fair and had a chance to truly enjoy ourselves. For awhile, the fighting subsided and the children were running hand in hand from one thrilling ride to the next. I wondered only briefly at our strange customs of building these metal machines whose only purpose is to scare and entertain. Because our lives are not scary enough? We do not live with daily fear of sickness or death. We live in pursuit of fun and happiness. For once, I was not feeling guilt about this but enjoying the luxury for what it was. A simple time with all of us together. A perfectly fine way to say farewell....for now.
31.7.08
27.7.08
A quest for light
I am trying to purchase the last minute items for the trip. We are standing in an un-named department store and Mohamed is wheeling the cart up and down the aisle behind me. I'm contemplating flashlights and trying to keep an eye on him all the while feeling as if I just can't think, I can't make a decision. It's a flashlight. Apparently I can think because I am suddenly plagued with a storm of questions. I realize how much I don't really know.
I frame it in issues:
There is the budget issue, which narrows things...somewhat. There are quite a variety of flashlights available for under $20. There is an issue of space and weight. I'm looking for a compact light that will last (did I mention the issue that one of the boys might get a hold of it one day and wear it out entirely...) So I don't really want a battery operated one and the rechargeable is soo big. There's a shaker one that strikes me as completely unreliable. And I begin to ponder what, exactly do I need the flashlight for?
Will I be trying to read by flashlight? Dress by it? Will we be eating meals in the dark? I can depend on the power going out frequently but when does the sun go down? Surely, it is not like a northeast winter with our 4:00 nights. Being fairly close to the equator, can I expect 12-hour days? This is the kind of detail I want to know, sunrise and sunset, temperature highs and lows for each month, rainfall intensity (I guess we won't really be able to 'make a run for it' as we'll be walking to school everyday. I have got the impression it is a bit of a way. I can't even begin to contemplate the variables associated with umbrellas- size, sharpness of tip point, wind speed and durability, one for each or just one for all......?)
I'm used to thinking of a flashlight for outside, tromping through the grass and trees, maybe even for protection (big is good when camping outdoors.) But my whole idea is changing, my whole world and I suddenly feel completely unprepared.
In this new world, a flashlight is no longer a temporary device to walk me through a midnight trip to the bathroom or shed just enough light to gather children and blankets to settle in for a stormy night at home. Its become more of a necessary tool for everyday use, or, certainly, weekly. The problem is I'm just not sure what to expect and I want to know exactly. I lose a sense of adventure for a minute, there in the store with Mohamed wheeling away and other shoppers contemplating fishing poles. It is obvious they know what they're in for. The more I think about it, the more I wonder why no one bothered with the details on this one. Maybe it is included with the house (like the iron.)
I am flooded again. Should everyone have their own? Will I be able to charge it? Should I go for LED and batteries? Will there even be batteries? Too many questions, too few answers. I look longingly at the nine-hour camping candles.
I am rescued by my friend who spots an economical, electrically rechargable, lightweight illumination device. Saved.
Now that this crisis has been averted, I can go back to being adventurous and composed.
I frame it in issues:
There is the budget issue, which narrows things...somewhat. There are quite a variety of flashlights available for under $20. There is an issue of space and weight. I'm looking for a compact light that will last (did I mention the issue that one of the boys might get a hold of it one day and wear it out entirely...) So I don't really want a battery operated one and the rechargeable is soo big. There's a shaker one that strikes me as completely unreliable. And I begin to ponder what, exactly do I need the flashlight for?
Will I be trying to read by flashlight? Dress by it? Will we be eating meals in the dark? I can depend on the power going out frequently but when does the sun go down? Surely, it is not like a northeast winter with our 4:00 nights. Being fairly close to the equator, can I expect 12-hour days? This is the kind of detail I want to know, sunrise and sunset, temperature highs and lows for each month, rainfall intensity (I guess we won't really be able to 'make a run for it' as we'll be walking to school everyday. I have got the impression it is a bit of a way. I can't even begin to contemplate the variables associated with umbrellas- size, sharpness of tip point, wind speed and durability, one for each or just one for all......?)
I'm used to thinking of a flashlight for outside, tromping through the grass and trees, maybe even for protection (big is good when camping outdoors.) But my whole idea is changing, my whole world and I suddenly feel completely unprepared.
In this new world, a flashlight is no longer a temporary device to walk me through a midnight trip to the bathroom or shed just enough light to gather children and blankets to settle in for a stormy night at home. Its become more of a necessary tool for everyday use, or, certainly, weekly. The problem is I'm just not sure what to expect and I want to know exactly. I lose a sense of adventure for a minute, there in the store with Mohamed wheeling away and other shoppers contemplating fishing poles. It is obvious they know what they're in for. The more I think about it, the more I wonder why no one bothered with the details on this one. Maybe it is included with the house (like the iron.)
I am flooded again. Should everyone have their own? Will I be able to charge it? Should I go for LED and batteries? Will there even be batteries? Too many questions, too few answers. I look longingly at the nine-hour camping candles.
I am rescued by my friend who spots an economical, electrically rechargable, lightweight illumination device. Saved.
Now that this crisis has been averted, I can go back to being adventurous and composed.
20.7.08
on a shoestring
It is definitely getting closer and I am definitely getting a little nervous. I've repacked each bag at least twice, trying to be more practical each time. It is my goal to stay within weight limits and have only one extra bag. I keep finding things I want to bring. So much for the hundred thing challenge. I have actually discarded a lot through my repacking rituals.
Right now I'm grappling with the bike issue. I really want to take Mohamed's bike. It is small enough to consider and reliable for hours of entertainment. He loves his bike. I do not want to be trying to purchase a bike in my first month there.
It shouldn't be an issue, except I'm trying to get to Congo on a shoestring. (After all, why should this part of my life be any different than the rest of it?) Somehow I missed the incredible visa fees and so am running very close to low right now. Maybe we'll make it. Getting reimbursed isn't much help if you haven't got it in the first place.
I've done this before, travel to Africa on a shoestring. I remember we went to a doundoumba, a large celebration with drumming and dancing. Kakilambe showed up, the traditional African bogeyman. Only when he shows up, it is on large, towering stilts. He is covered in long, flowing raffia and a dark mask. Somehow, he is able to dance and drum from up high on his perch and is truly a terrifying spectacle. He began to follow me around the crowd. I had a very distinct feeling of being in a spotlight. The field was too barren, he was too high and my skin was too white. Nowhere to go. He wanted money, a gift, a small sacrifice. Only I had nothing to give. For a moment I felt completely desperate; he was going to follow me around all night, demanding the riches he knew I must have. He did eventually move on to someone else, but for those moments, I felt completely exposed.
My trip went something like that. I had used every penny I had just to get there, maybe I had some in reserve for bottled drinking water (ahh, Coyah.) But there is no way to convince people in such a country that you have come all the way from America and have nothing to spend. It is quite rude actually, not to give small sacrifices to those around you. I suppose it is a bit like tipping the service industry here. It becomes a small way to show you are pleased.
It was impossible to talk about how hard it was to find the money for such a long voyage across the ocean. Hard work? Difficult times? In America? Surely, you jest.
Which is how I ended up, days later, holding a tiny African queen. She was a little beauty whose young parents were encouraging me, yes, take her to America with you. I was quite shocked. I could only smile politely and decline. It is not so simple really.
In my youth, I became easily frustrated by this argument, remembering my two little ones and how much I struggled to provide something like a home and a life for them. Yet, here I was, halfway around the world by a stroke of luck. There was no way to explain the contradiction. People are starving everywhere.
It's been a long seven years since my last journey. I have definitely become something of a different person. But I'm still traveling to Africa on a shoestring. There are things to remember here.
Right now I'm grappling with the bike issue. I really want to take Mohamed's bike. It is small enough to consider and reliable for hours of entertainment. He loves his bike. I do not want to be trying to purchase a bike in my first month there.
It shouldn't be an issue, except I'm trying to get to Congo on a shoestring. (After all, why should this part of my life be any different than the rest of it?) Somehow I missed the incredible visa fees and so am running very close to low right now. Maybe we'll make it. Getting reimbursed isn't much help if you haven't got it in the first place.
I've done this before, travel to Africa on a shoestring. I remember we went to a doundoumba, a large celebration with drumming and dancing. Kakilambe showed up, the traditional African bogeyman. Only when he shows up, it is on large, towering stilts. He is covered in long, flowing raffia and a dark mask. Somehow, he is able to dance and drum from up high on his perch and is truly a terrifying spectacle. He began to follow me around the crowd. I had a very distinct feeling of being in a spotlight. The field was too barren, he was too high and my skin was too white. Nowhere to go. He wanted money, a gift, a small sacrifice. Only I had nothing to give. For a moment I felt completely desperate; he was going to follow me around all night, demanding the riches he knew I must have. He did eventually move on to someone else, but for those moments, I felt completely exposed.
My trip went something like that. I had used every penny I had just to get there, maybe I had some in reserve for bottled drinking water (ahh, Coyah.) But there is no way to convince people in such a country that you have come all the way from America and have nothing to spend. It is quite rude actually, not to give small sacrifices to those around you. I suppose it is a bit like tipping the service industry here. It becomes a small way to show you are pleased.
It was impossible to talk about how hard it was to find the money for such a long voyage across the ocean. Hard work? Difficult times? In America? Surely, you jest.
Which is how I ended up, days later, holding a tiny African queen. She was a little beauty whose young parents were encouraging me, yes, take her to America with you. I was quite shocked. I could only smile politely and decline. It is not so simple really.
In my youth, I became easily frustrated by this argument, remembering my two little ones and how much I struggled to provide something like a home and a life for them. Yet, here I was, halfway around the world by a stroke of luck. There was no way to explain the contradiction. People are starving everywhere.
It's been a long seven years since my last journey. I have definitely become something of a different person. But I'm still traveling to Africa on a shoestring. There are things to remember here.
11.7.08
Kindergarten Congo
When I was in college I used to pass the last weeks of the semester by counting only the days of class left. A class meeting on Tuesday and Thursday with 3 weeks left would really only have 6 days. Six days is a lot easier to manage mentally then 3 weeks. College flew by in this way.
It is exactly what I'm trying not to do now. Old habits surface easily however and I occasionally find myself in a Sunday dance class thinking: Only 3 more Sundays. I don't want to think this way, I don't want to rush the time by. As if we're ever really in control of such a thing. I think we must be though because time itself is so illusory. I can will the time to pass at a reasonable rate if I just remember to enjoy every minute and take my time.
I am actually enjoying my summer and, scientifically speaking, there are really too many variables to determine a true cause. I always vote for plenty of sunshine first. Vitamin D to the rescue. But I am not blind to the tremendous relief associated with not going to school everyday. I can see how great the negative energy was there and the real effect it had on my psyche, my ability to handle the everyday ups and downs of having 5 children. It is so much easier to manage now. Summer is a wonderful thing.
I am starting to get just slightly nervous about traveling. Pele has begun to speak of Kindergarten Congo, though he remains several years away from school. He says quite firmly that he wants to go to "my Congo." Sure, I tell him, we're going to your Congo but not until August. He's very funny that way.
I can tell Mohamed is more like me and starting to get a bit anxious. What is it really going to be like? I have this sense that there will be no privacy and all of our meltdowns (Pele is getting really great at meltdowns) will be witnessed by all. Though it is a fact of childhood, I am mortified by this.
It all comes down to control. And that is why I reply that my stay in Congo is 10 months. It seems an easier time frame to manage. It will be difficult to be somewhere that I am unfamiliar with. I suppose that will take some time to develop. No more running off to the store if I need something, or even if I don't. A bit less autonomy I think and that is never good for an independent person like me. (Or maybe it is good for humility. Perhaps it will help me to understand what has been going on in my house this past year.)
Step by step we're on our way. And I can get excited about teaching again, even if I'm enjoying my time off.
It is exactly what I'm trying not to do now. Old habits surface easily however and I occasionally find myself in a Sunday dance class thinking: Only 3 more Sundays. I don't want to think this way, I don't want to rush the time by. As if we're ever really in control of such a thing. I think we must be though because time itself is so illusory. I can will the time to pass at a reasonable rate if I just remember to enjoy every minute and take my time.
I am actually enjoying my summer and, scientifically speaking, there are really too many variables to determine a true cause. I always vote for plenty of sunshine first. Vitamin D to the rescue. But I am not blind to the tremendous relief associated with not going to school everyday. I can see how great the negative energy was there and the real effect it had on my psyche, my ability to handle the everyday ups and downs of having 5 children. It is so much easier to manage now. Summer is a wonderful thing.
I am starting to get just slightly nervous about traveling. Pele has begun to speak of Kindergarten Congo, though he remains several years away from school. He says quite firmly that he wants to go to "my Congo." Sure, I tell him, we're going to your Congo but not until August. He's very funny that way.
I can tell Mohamed is more like me and starting to get a bit anxious. What is it really going to be like? I have this sense that there will be no privacy and all of our meltdowns (Pele is getting really great at meltdowns) will be witnessed by all. Though it is a fact of childhood, I am mortified by this.
It all comes down to control. And that is why I reply that my stay in Congo is 10 months. It seems an easier time frame to manage. It will be difficult to be somewhere that I am unfamiliar with. I suppose that will take some time to develop. No more running off to the store if I need something, or even if I don't. A bit less autonomy I think and that is never good for an independent person like me. (Or maybe it is good for humility. Perhaps it will help me to understand what has been going on in my house this past year.)
Step by step we're on our way. And I can get excited about teaching again, even if I'm enjoying my time off.
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