Rather than read along with my old book club, I read about another kind of missionary. Roger Youmans, who is a missionary doctor, wrote an autobiography (When Bull Elephants Fight) about his many years working in Kinshasa and other areas of Congo. It was a detailed account and gave some amazing insight on how things have (or haven't really) changed since the early 70's when he was here. Even he, as a doctor, sometimes wondered exactly what he was doing here.
I've also spent some time reading other blogs. I like to find some written by others living in Africa and there are plenty. But the latest one I read was written by a fellow teacher here who has just had a baby in the U.S. I wondered what made her blog different than mine (for clearly it was) and came to a few realizations.
- Its o.k that my blog is different than most others I've read. I guess it is a true reflection of me and that's really all it should be. (It took me awhile to arrive at this conclusion, but once here, I am solidly here.)
- Pictures definately add to the blog. There's definately more reading involved here and photos could break that up. I remember intially hoping to tell this story through images. Just as I recommitted myself to posting more, I woke up to the realities of actually trying to do that. Nevertheless, I have some photos saved and an approaching storm I'm dying to share. Nabih seems committed to this as well because during our trip today (yes, I drove the boys to get Mohamed's hair cut) Nabih stole the camera and began shooting all kinds of photos from the back seat windows- a post unto itself.
- Finally, I realized it has something to do with audience. Clearly, she was writing with an audience in mind. With a specific purpose of updating her family and friends about how life and pregnancy in Congo was faring. It has taken me some time to consider my audience (I can no longer truly say I am writing solely about teaching as I've talked very little about my classroom or other challenges related to teaching here.) I intended to write in essay- like form about the issues as they caught my eye, and I think I have done that. I've written about things that I've been compelled to write about, things that linger in my mind and haunt my dreams. I guess I'm not always clear as I could be and hardly ever straightforward, but there's no way around it. Hard as I try to write something simple, I get bogged down in the hazy mist of my perception. I can see too many sides at once.
And, while I'm not really sure if anyone is actually reading, or who, it's not really my motivation (though I have wondered how to get more notice in the blogging world...) It ends up like my painting, sitting on the floor of my bedroom, where I glance at it in passing, wondering briefly where the future will bring it. The purpose is in the process, the final result simply a pleasant extra.
