Being an adventurer is not for the faint of heart. It
requires you to have courage and strength and forever see the positive in
whatever life throws at you. The fact is, that’s not really me. While I certainly
aspire to all of those things, and maybe sometimes romantically imagine myself
that way, I haven’t quite truly developed those qualities yet, not deep inside
where they have roots.
I realized this as we were riding around town completing a
few errands. I’d been feeling discouraged about the school situation for the
boys (definitely not one of the perks of the contract it turns out,) a few
other standards of living I haven’t quite figured out how to make happen yet and
our financial situation in general. We passed two old women sitting, sleeping
really, by the roadside. They had their blankets spread out and their beggar
bowls nearby. I reflected for a moment that my life was in a tad better shape
than theirs. I hadn’t it made it to the roadside yet.
We stopped at a clinic to pay off a small debt. I seem to
have developed a penchant for dancing with death and after only 3 months here
have faced my second malaria attack. I had a 40° fever on and off for a week.
When Doliprane no longer seemed to be having any effect, I finally made my way
out to the clinic. For reasons long and short, good and bad, real and
ridiculous, I found myself without the money to pay for any treatment, not even
the fever reducing perfusion I was seeking (I’d already started quinine for the
malaria.) The doctor offered to let me pay half and scolded me for being in
such a situation in the first place. She was absolutely right. Being without
insurance or cash for medical care in Africa can quickly turn deadly. I was
extremely grateful and somewhat stunned by her offer. So, as soon as I found the means, I was off
to repay the debt. On our taxi ride home, we passed a naked man sitting in the
middle of the road. Another moment of reflection. “At least I haven’t reached
that point,” I said to myself, trying somehow to see the positive. I realized
it didn’t say much about my current state if I was comparing myself to old
beggar women and naked men in the road.
I have recognized that poverty is the real spirit breaker.
It’s easy to be positive and see the sunshine everywhere when you can afford
the comforts that everyone else has. Once things get tight, discouragement and
negativity start to kick in. So many aid organizations talk about Africans
living on less than a dollar a day and you wonder how they can possibly do
it. It’s meal by meal and lots of
walking. It involves bartering with neighbors, making small exchanges and
taking on debt. The juggling game that those living in poverty anywhere quickly
learn how to play. The ultimate in Wimpy…. “I’ll
gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today.”
This recent bout of discouragement found me longing for
comforts from another world. Things I hadn’t really thought of or missed in
years. A diner. A breakfast diner to be exact. I’ve been dreaming of scrambled
eggs and pancakes with orange juice and a cup of diner coffee- the endless
cup. I want to buy a loaf of bread that
comes in a bag and has 50 slices at least (and then I realize it’s not fresh
bread and I’m probably better off with these tiny loaves that need to be
replaced almost daily.) I want to buy fruit out of season and most of all I
want New York cheddar cheese- sharp. Extra sharp.
I want the comfort of knowing there is an emergency room,
open and obligated to take me in any time of the day or night. And I want free
schools. I’m not sure if this means I am ready to make a return trip. As much
as this latest illness has worn me out, made me feel like quitting and going
home, I still couldn’t figure out where that would be. And obviously, we’re not
in any position to move anytime soon.
So, on with the adventure. The boys have been handling
things amazingly. There are always lessons to be learned. Mohamed has finally
developed some money management skills and begun to look at and compare prices.
With Christian away, he’s taken over some of the household responsibilities and
he chooses to take on a lot of the baby care duties as well. We’re developing
our ability to have patience and be happy with less. And Nabih, our favorite
food connoisseur, has taken to praising even the simplest of meals and
continues to eat with gusto no matter often we have rice or rice or more rice. I guess we’re still hanging in. I’ve been thinking
of October as month when things should start to improve and I keep reminding
myself we’re in it for only a year. Then we can start that grand search again
where the world’s the limit…. or maybe we’ll have already found ourselves well
down another path by that time. For now, just trying to get to October.
