It was bound to happen. Time and place and lack of commitment. I was reading some posts from earlier in the whole Congo-Kinshasa adventure and find the recent ones to be lacking. There's been a change. Actually, there's been quite a few changes. I've lost some friends- a common theme in this transient kind of lifestyle. But along with them I've lost some connections. My friend from the small Italian aid agency left last year and I haven't been out to a village in at least two years. I read the descriptions of those experiences and realize how much I am really missing here.
I've stopped going to Stand Proud, reasons unknown (or maybe slightly known perhaps) another source of joy and sunshine (albeit mixed in with occasional self-doubt and confusion of purpose) lost by the wayside. And my one good neighbor who witnessed my ups and downs with the casual comfort of a kindred spirit, offering just the right amount of encouragement and distraction.....moved on and off, "gone forever" as the phrase here goes, though we maintain a virtual connection. Message via satellite is no real substitute for a warm cup of tea and welcome smile.
While my phone is quieter, missing the frequent and familiar beep of an incoming sms that lets you know someone out there is thinking of you - wants to communicate---(we used to joke about getting a window put in between our two apartments so we could just talk through the wall,) my other electronics hum with use. The computer is in near constant use as I try to infuse myself with news of the world and friends of old. The new kindle is just buzzing with anticipation about the sheer volume of books available at the click of my (ever ready) mouse.
I spend a lot of time gazing out my window, listening to the human sounds of ordinary life sprinkled with an animal sonata...chirping crickets, bird songs and bullish sounding frogs. Not much has changed in that regard.
I feel as if I've entered into some kind of waiting game. It's the critical third year when things are no longer novel (I read the descriptions of luxury houses with something of a smirk.....opulence no longer astounds me, sadly.) Soldiers with guns? Street children? Beggars in the road? I know so many of them by sight now and they know me. Nothing personal passes between us, but we move in and out of each others world as though we've always been there and yet, never really have or will.
It's getting harder to write. I feel as if I've been stripped to my bare bones. I've been worn down by the daily routines of living. Rather than seeing things to be done, I can see only insurmountable obstacles and cold status quos. The recent student demonstrations at UNIKIN remind me change is possible (perhaps,) but it's not really my fight to begin with. I'm just waiting to witness the outcomes.
