There are a few random updates, endings to stories once began and long ago noticed. There is a certain clarity and satisfaction that comes from random updates, from being able to look upon someone's experience as a series of events, each piece providing a bigger piece to the puzzle and illuminating a sense of logic and purpose to what, at the time, may feel random and disjointed.
The trick, of course, is maintaining patience and perseverance when regarding our own lives. It's so much easier to see a plan as someone else's life unfolds. So here is what I have witnessed:
Remember this guy, who travelled all the way to our quaint little CIAD in search of true love only to be shunned by his desired and taken in by some random family in the neighborhood? It wasn't too long ago that I caught a glimpse of him, straight from a Grimm's fairy tale of friendly ogres and gentle giants. It was a silhouette I saw of him walking down the dirt road, hoisting a propane tank (those cursed propane tanks!) over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes walking alongside a woman who barely reached his shoulders. There was a sense of chivalry to the image. A gentleness and sweet exchange hovered in the air above them. Apparently he'd persevered and found someone who appreciated his spirit. I guess he has settled in with her and the two make a delightful pair. I still don't know what he "does," as in what permits him to fly off in search of a new life and make his home in a quiet little village just north of Abidjan center, but he has found a bit of paradise for the moment it seems.
There is the story of the towel people and somewhere along the way we've become acquainted. This is in the broadest sense of the word. I don't know his name or anything about him, nor he of me. But we've become accustomed to greeting each other with a neighbourly good morning- or good evening- and a sincere wish for a 'bonne journey.' I can't be sure how it happened, a meeting of the eyes I suppose, as most human contact can be reduced to this. What is the underlying connection that causes it to expand? At times, even if he is sitting at the hair salon just out of sight, he will call out to me and wish me a good evening, or a welcome home. I wonder often at what causes two humans to progress through the stages of noticing each other, to making a connection and then to committing- even if it is as simple as saying hello. On other mornings, I wonder even more. Now that school is back in session and I am leaving hom earlier, I see him outside sweeping- honestly a bit of a rarity among African men. The morning sweeping routine is often reserved for women unless it is in front of a shop or cabine- and I am overcome for a moment wanting to find out the details. Yes, I want an interview. I imagine all the questions I would pose, an amateur anthropologist studying the human quirks in my neighborhood. Does he live alone (I know he does not as I have occasionally witnessed the towel woman) and is he an early riser? Obviously, but what is it that propels him outside to in the wee hours to perfom this chore? These questions are still a mystery even as we have taken a step or two across the bridge of complete strangerhood.
There is another neighborhood acquaintance whose mystery has been unravelled. I still see him occasionally, a Frenchman who lives in the neighborhood. We most often cross paths as I am returning home and he as well, though from within the cartier. I remember wondering where he could be going- or coming from- deep within the neighborhood. A recent visit from a friend seems to have unveilled the mystery. Just a short walk away is the ferry to Marcory. I had thought this ferry was only available from M'Pouto by the Sol Beni side of the lagoon. Turns out there is a hidden little port right here in our neighborhood. I have yet to take this voyage but my friend, and friends of hers, took it several times. I imagine this is where the Frenchman is off to every morning and where he returns from in the evening. He must work somewhere in Marcory or Zone 4 and travels back forth avoiding high traffic by way of the lagoon. It seems like an enchanting commute.
The stories of my African neighborhood....not so different from yours, hey?
.
