It brings me back to days in the park when my oldest were little. There was a sweet empty playground within walking distance and we spent hours of every afternoon there. I remember thinking at the time that this is what life was really about. While it's good for my soul, I am beginning to think it's not so good for my writing.
I've begun using my (slightly ancient and outmodeled) phone to record messages to myself. Thoughts I want to follow up on. There's only one memo left and it has to do with my Monday meetings at school. School seems so far away on these 2 week vacation periods. I really appreciate this system of having dependable and frequent breaks from working. I thought it would be a great time to catch up on writing and making art but I am too busy trying to elicit little baby coos and silver laughter.
Sometimes I actually do stuff, like go to a dance class or a concert, but mostly I don't. My dance class has great drumming but I've resigned myself to the fact that it's not going to make me a better dancer. It's a beginner class and the energy level completely depends on which Ivorian students are in attendance. Dancing in the US with such talented and accomplished performers has really spoiled me. I want the best in it's purest form and the watered down version we get in class is slightly frustrating. The 3 or 4 other paying students are all older than me, frequently dance off time and are new to dance. But I don't want to complain. I really think dancing again has been the main reason I have made it through these last few weeks in a fairly stable frame of mind. No tears threatening my daily commute.
I'm still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life here in Abidjan and hoping the right situation will present itself. The boys are having up and down moments at school, which I am trying to take in with the right balance of concern and confidence.
In the absence of anything profound to share, here's a bulleted list of random observations (the bulleted list, a favorite fallback....)
- Ivory Coast does offer free schooling, but the teachers are frequently on strike. When school is in session, the day isn't long enough for the students to get quality learning accomplished and they have far too much time on their hands to try and fill in with meaningful activity. I can attest to this by the amount of time neighbrhood children spend at my house and the hours they come and go. Free education sounds good and fair- and is necessary- but shouldn't come at the cost of quality.
- Abidjan seems to have a plethora of freeness however, and the mosquito net people have passed by my house. They are from the national office of something and their job is hand out free, treated nets to families. A commendable operation. Someone at my door informed me recently that someone else would be coming to take a short survey and hand out tickets. I guess I then take the tickets somewhere to get my free nets. Great. With only a few short months to go, I am crossing my fingers that we will be able to celebrate Mbalia's first year of life- malaria free.
- I recently watched Timbuktu at the French Institute - Abidjan's version of the Halle d Gombe (how I love that place.) The Ivory Coast version is, predictably, filled with more grandeur and pomp than Kin. The indoor ampitheater seating holds about 600. The film itself was quietly touching and stayed with me for days. I've come to appreciate cinema as art again and this story was masterful. Highly recommended if viewing is an option for you.
- I went back to the Institute for a free concert, courtesy of the French embassy. (Concert by invitation only and our school was handing out tickets.) It was a Ugandan kora player, Joel Sebunjo. This clipped interview is both interesting and not at the same time. His background is fascinating however, and I wasn't wrong in thinking the kora is mainly a West African instrument and he was unusual being a player from Uganda. Ironically, the boys most enjoyed the traps player- I guess for them the kora is old school and the traps are exotic. That's what I get for raising them in Africa.
- I guess I can't have a bulletted list without a taxi story. In an effort to make 5 things, I'll include my ride home last night, which was kind of creepy. After my dance class, I've taken to scribbling some notes in my book- simple stick figure sketches of the movements and name/origin of the dance. I can usually accomplish this in the taxi on the way home and the passing streetlights offer enough to see by. The taxi driver startled me after 10 minutes of silence by wondering aloud if I could see well enough to write. His French was super fast and all smashed together. I am getting better at deciphering this but sometimes I still wonder if what I think I am hearing is actually what is being said. He followed the predictable taxi line of conversation (You're not French are you? How long have you been in Abidjan...etc, etc.) which can feel invading, interesting or annoying depending on the driver. He moved quickly from Akwaaba (welcome) to are you married? Haha. Actually, it got creepy before that because somewhere in between I think he actually said, I am very effective in bed. His exact words, Je suis tres efficace....kind of went over my head and so he felt a need to add au lit. I congratulated him for his skills and hoped the ride would be over soon. He suggested we exchange contacts (no thank you) and at his insistence (about exchanging contacts and his skills in the bedroom) I assured him he would meet some available woman soon. Surely. He told me he didn't want an Ivorian woman because they were too interested in money (ahh, but lucky you - you have a job, I told him at the same time wondering why he thought European or American women weren't interested in money? How did we ever get that rap?) I tried to keep the conversation light while at the same time realizing how very wrong it could all go. My first very yucky ride in an otherwise pleasant city.
