stories, from africa: Behind the Scenes of an Adventure- Week 1

What I wrote about the first week- but not really what I wanted to say. Maybe the next few days will have me feeling more in my skin.

“USA? For the baby?” the directress had stopped by my classroom for the final checkout visit. A cursory glance to make sure all was cleaned, covered and put away. A bit of small talk thrown in as a way of saying goodbye. It was the last day of school, traditionally a time when families hover attending assemblies and saying goodbye to others. Teachers are busy turning in materials and checking off items on their closing list. “Abidjan, “ I told her. “Abidjan all the way.” She looked past me and offered a smile. “It will be a different kind of life.” Her words sounded solemn and more than a little prophetic.

Our trip from Kinshasa was smoother than I could have hoped. Despite our billion kilos of luggage the extra fees were actually less than I imagined. A few little stumbles in the Abidjan airport, but that, also, was far easier than I dared to dream. We’d made it with our 19 pieces of luggage and some extra cash on hand. Christian met us with a small truck and two guys who took over the problem of the bags. Easiest move ever. So far.

It’s become apparent in these 5 days that I am an American in Abidjan- as if I could be anything else. I’m trying not to apologize for it. It does leave me pondering what’s important, what’s necessary and how my growing up affects my expectations (get rid of the expectations, I know, for a happier life.)

The neighborhood was pleasant, not sterile as I’d feared. Children skipped along the dirt roads, goats wandered in small packs and the smells of good food wafted on the wind. The building we stopped in front of was under construction. Major construction to my eyes. Just a few weeks in Christian’s eyes. I was thinking 6 months to a year. We made it up the first 3 floors to a small studio where we placed the bags. Our apartment was on the 4^th floor and in need of some work. The hallway floor was still covered in dirt- tiles came a few days later. Inside, the apartment offered 3 rooms, a kitchen and 2 tiny unfinished baths in that odd Abidjan style of shower, sink and toilet all in one space with no division so that the shower water drenches the entire bathroom with every bathing. My American self felt the walls closing in. So little space for the 4 of us- but still possible. For me the real problem was lack of air.

I`m not sure this qualifies as a window.
Slick spot on the wall never seems to dry

There are two windows, a window-in-waiting and something else that probably falls in the window family, though doesn’t exactly merit the full title of window. Though the kitchen had no counters or cupboards, it was large enough for all of our newly bought, miniature appliances- refrigerator, stove and washer. While there wasn’t initially hook-up for a washer, the plumber quickly declared that no problem. “We can just break the wall and put the hose in here,” he indicated. Which he did. Unfortunately, the electricity voltage wasn’t actually strong enough to run the washer.

A Window-in-Waiting

Each day has met us with a different kind of challenge, leaving me with much to consider. I wake, not unpleasantly, to the sound of roosters crowing and goats bleating. I spent Day 1 getting used to the noise of sledgehammers on cement, attacking the constant stream of dirt tracked in from the unfinished hallway stairs and staring out the window at my neighbors.

Question for reflection: Is it ok to want something clean, finished and fairly tranquil or should I just be happy to have a roof over my head?

Life is lived out of buckets- My downstairs neighbor has the
luxury of lines to hang her clothes out in the sun- when it`s
not raining. My clothes will end up taking days to dry.

Days 2 and 3 left our apartment in the dark. At first it was just us, with the rest of the building still in power. Later in the evening, the whole block went out for a few hours. Facing an afternoon in the dark with not much to do, I decided to tackle the clothes, which were in danger of building up. I spent more time staring out the window at my neighbors, getting to know their routines. An inventory of what we’ve managed to amass says volumes about the different backgrounds Christian and I come from. We don’t have hot water, but we do have a TV and 2 air conditioners (still in the box. I am doubtful the current will ever be able to support them and would personally be quite content without them.) Renting an apartment means we need to furnish everything, including the stove and refrigerator (check) and the hot water heater (the response I got when I mentioned this seemed to indicate it was not really important.)

Question for reflection: Is it ok to want hot water or should I just be happy to have running water from a faucet inside?

The blue bowl just inside the door is full of
water- for drinking, for washing

Days 2 and 3 also brought small floods to our new space. Despite being on the 4^th floor and having only 2 ½ -ish windows, the rain managed to leak in pretty good. We’d been somewhat prepared for this however and the things that did get wet quickly dried out (unlike the clothes I’d washed which were still wet 3 days later. Finally I moved them to a room with a window and directed a fan at them.) We went into town in the morning and found that most of the shops along the main road had flooded. It was a tropical-living parody of a North Eastern snowstorm. People were everywhere shoveling, scooping and sweeping out mud. The street was lined with piles of ruined goods. Stores were closed and everyone was soaking wet. No question for reflection here. Obviously our little flood was nothing in comparison to what others had lost. Someone came later with a caulking gun- problem fixed. As I watch the rain falling in dribs and drabs and downpours throughout the day, I can’t help but think of the shops, market stalls and small houses that continue to flood.

Day 4 brought a small ray of hope as we went to look at a nearby soccer camp and also see an apartment that Christian had wanted to take initially. The camp was glorious and the apartment was palatial, especially with our new eyes. Both were just around the corner from where we are now. We ended the day with a vision for the future. Question for reflection: How much patience should we have and where and how can we get some more?

Day 5 finds us pretty stressed again as a family. We’re having trouble being nice to each other and finding comfort in one another’s presence.We’re barely talking. It is too easy to let our frustrations, fears and insecurities out on each other. I battle with separating my situation from my self-image. I am not the sum of my surroundings, though it is easy for me to get caught up in the downward spiral. I remember my aunt remodeling her home- and she was certain to end up with something far more beautiful than we can anticipate here- alluding to a feeling like this. Moving is stressful, home remodeling is stressful, having a baby is stressful and doing it all on a shoestring is definitely more than challenging. Finding out our new limits- stressful. (I can light the stove though it generally involves a bit of cursing and crying, haven’t yet attempted the oven- but I’m a baker!!! The stove is known to emit screeching sounds and flare up unexpectedly high. It’s incredibly hard to regulate and as often as I manage to get it lit, I end up turning it off again in my effort to reduce the flame. Ugh. Christian’s reassurance that the screeching is just the pressure of the gas is hardy reassuring at all.)

The question for reflectioncould be about cooking with gas versus the health hazards of using charcoal but really it’s a feeing of inadequacy because I can’t do things indepednently to take care of my family. It’s also a question of turning to the activities I find calming only to be assaulted with problem after problem. Nothing is comforting. Everything feels like a chore.

Living out of our suitcases- which weren’t packed in anticipation of needing any sort of organization- has me constantly turning in circles trying to find one item or another. All of my sensory issues are flaring as we cram into these 2 rooms (I’ve declared one off limits as the walls continue to be moist and it hosts a queasy, moldy smell. It can’t be good for anyone.) Question for reflection: Is it ok to wish we could be facing this adversary with more positive attitudes or should I just be happy that we are all together? Is it only the privileged who can have these sensory issues- too much noise, too much clutter, agitation from crowded situations?

Bonus Question- is it a morbid sign that everything seems to be going wrong all at once? Day 5 also finds the l, k and j buttons on my computer not working. I’ve had to cut and paste every time I want to use one of those letters in a word. I’d thought perhaps to let it all go until I got to the cyber café to fix it, but there were too many and it proved distracting. Turns out “l” is much more popular than the other letters. Also turns out the keyboard at the cyber café was way more complicated (in order to make it French, the letters don’t always match what’s on the keys. It requires a secret knowledge of code breaking to use correctly. I’d forgotten this feature of public computers in French speaking Africa.)

Day 5 ends with me wondering what will become of us, vowing to be nicer tomorrow, be more positive, speak kinder words and look for the rainbow. I’m still happy to be in Abidjan, assuming it will get better and only halfway wondering if we’re going to make it.

Day 6 finds us doing much better as a family. We’ve gotten used to the camp like nature of our new digs and are finding the rhythm. The clothes were moved to the roof for drying. Mohamed brought them down at the end of the day and folded them. He’s been pitching in with the endless sweeping as well. Our two tiny bathrooms are each 99% finished and fairly useable. The electrcity has been “reinforced” and is now strong enough to run the washing machine and the iron. I’ve mastered lighting the stove and vow to get the hang of the oven next week. Christian will offer dance classes at a gym just up the road in town starting in July and I have an interview on Monday. The boys start soccer camp on Monday, too, and so they have something to look forward to.

One Full Week-

Our Sunday morning began tranquil. Last Sunday morning we were in the Kinshasa dark loading our billion bags into the waiting bus. This week we are listening to the few churches surrounding us. For the most part so far, the music I’ve heard coming from there has been mosty choral. Just when I was thinking Ivory Coast had nothing on the Congolese churches, the djembes came out and I spent my breakfast listening to a pleasant rhythm. A small parade passed by the windows complete with brass sounding band. Later on, we walked down to a small market in the neighborhood for some tomatoes and local honey. Upon our return I made a tasty yogurt-avocado-banana-honey-smoothie. All of this was followed by a visit to a friend who was leaving for her vacation. En fin, feeling like I have the answer to most of my questions and life is good again. Whew, what a week. Happy that I can sheepishly look back and wonder what all the fuss was about anyway.
Views from my window