Our day was going well, some more students had arrived (it seems the first week is a bit like that) but those of us who have been present were starting to feel the routine. The class had just left for PE and as Justin came in he asked if I’d heard anything.
“Anything like what,” I asked. He made a booming sound. This morning there had been several. I had also heard something like that yesterday afternoon. I’d asked Gloria what she thought (ever smiling Gloria, nanny #2) and she’d told me it was training. No, I had not heard “training” any of the time I’d been here. I did not believe Gloria. I explained all this to Justin and he agreed. They don’t do that kind of training at the camp.
“See that black car. That’s Kabila’s car. When you see that car, if something is going on they send it to pick her up.” President Kabila’s daughter is in third grade (no pressure on the new third grade teacher from Atlanta.) There were three or four people standing around the car on their cell phones. Justin went off to find out what was going on.
I never did find out. The day continued to pass. I resumed teaching, feeling like I was waiting for the early snow dismissal we used to get in RV. Eventually the car left, I’m not sure if the daughter was even actually picked up or if they were all just on alert. I’m just happy to be in on the system. There are so many little things that could really mean something, if you only knew what you were looking at.
That was Wednesday and I haven’t heard any ’training’ since then. I have become increasingly upset, however, by my isolation. A radio would do a lot to ease that sense of being secluded, though I wonder how much ’news’ would accurately flow. I’m realizing that is less the point for me, being an information hound- I‘m a former NPR junkie and this would definitely be withdrawal. It‘s been 22 days with no news.
The other thing I’ve really got to do is just go out. I realized that I have some fear surrounding this issue. I blame it on the kids but I’m not sure if that’s entirely true, although it would be a heck of a lot easier to take a walk up the street alone. The boys can be surprisingly well behaved at times (its just a matter of which times?) These last few days the helplessness and lack of independence have really got to me. I just want to jump in the car and go to the store (I’m sure I could reference this to an earlier post, I knew it was coming.)
I did take a step to remedy the situation today however and feel ever better for it. I navigated the Western Union on my own- sounds simple? I was dropped off in front of a store with a sign that said Western Union. Inside however, there was no service for that. I was directed down, not several doors but to the next shopping plaza. (I asked 2 people to get this information and I’m pretty sure one of them said it was clearly marked. I was slightly distracted by his gun lying on the floor behind him though and perhaps he said something else entirely.) In the adjacent shopping plaza there was no sign for Western Union but a bank with 2 doors. I asked again (third person) and somehow still managed to choose the wrong door.( I don’t think my French is really that bad, I just didn’t follow the directions and assumed both doors went into the same place.) I ended up inside an office building and asked again. Next door, ok. I went. It is here that I finally found clearly marked W.U signs along with a million people standing in a long line and all of the waiting chairs full. I notice the waiting chairs always seem to be full and can’t really tell if they are waiting to conduct business or just, well, waiting. SO, I ask again (person number 5, I believe.) He is happy to help and I join the smallest line (no line actually. I am the only one on it. Does one person make a line?) My transaction passes well (and quick!) and I sail out into the sunny morning.
I’m ready to go walking. I did try especially hard to pay attention today because really, I want to be driving. I think maybe this is how it feels to be such a stranger. But then……
We’re in the grocery store browsing through the mayonnaise. She mentions to me that she really likes the mayo with olives. Its really good. “Oh, is that what you got?” We all received a gift basket in our apartments and I assumed they were basically the same. I did not have olive mayonnaise. I’m having a hard time making decisions about the rice (placed right below the mayonnaise, of course) and she is gone. It was a passing comment really but I’m intrigued. I look at the mayo. One says ’citron’ interesting but I don’t think so. The others say, …ouefs… I guess the picture does show them to be a little dark, not green exactly but a brownish color. The eggs here are brown. I just look after her. Olive mayonnaise? Maybe that’s how it feels to be such a stranger. I guess there are degrees.
The rest of the trip is fine, I almost buy a newspaper but it’s really impossible to buy anything from the ‘tour’ bus. I had really been hoping to travel this morning in a smaller car. Somehow it didn’t workout. Systems. I’m hopeful for next week. For now, I guess I’ll just have to settle for being creative and making up my own news.
Maybe Kabila just got the word on the olive mayo…..needed a jar himself.
