This is turning out to be one of the least hectic year ends since I've started teaching- and that's not necessarily a good thing. The end of the school year is always filled with goodbyes, but even more so in international schools. Students are leaving, teachers are leaving, some for good- most for vacation- and either way the arrival of summer comes on a wind that whisks us all away from each other and into separate lives. While the alternate lives we live may be temporary, they do exist and most of the faculty, student body and parent population straddles two worlds of one kind or another. Which is all the more reason saying goodbye is important.
The end of the year should be a time filled with rituals of community, fun and celebration. It's important to take this time to celebrate our year together, confirm our friendships and assure each other that, no matter where that wind of summer lands us, there will be people across the globe keeping us in mind, wishing us well and waiting for a reunion.
It's an eerily quiet time. I've been trying to listen but there is only silence so far. Like much else in Abidjan, it seems the school year is just going to slowly wind down and fade away until one day we realize we just don't need to get up and go to that building anymore. Oh yeah, we'll think, it's over now. No celebrations, no goodbye hugs, no appreciations or wacky last moments together. If I hadn't already spent a year in Abidjan, it would be a lot more depressing. (I stole a glance over to the TASOK page and saw all the cool end of year things I am missing right now still going on- DEAR picnics, wacky-wet-n-wild summer fun, author's celebration, art and talent show......)
I've been trying to put my finger on exactly why the city does not speak to me- my dissatisfaction extends beyond the school and out into the everyday environment (many people love it hear and so it is obviously a personal thing...) I am definitely learning a lot about what I want in a school community (and that I no longer want to be at the mercy of others to create this for me.) And I am remembering my forest, mountain roots. I miss green spaces to just be in and, honestly, I guess I miss the freedom having a car would bring.
Taxis are too expensive as a mode of transport out into the peaceful places I am craving. And once I do get there, getting back is a real consideration. And then there is the baggage. Lunch, diapers, change of clothes. Juggling the girl and the bags and the weight of it all in case we need to walk, along with the heat and the sun----or the rain, oh yeah, I need to pack an umbrella. Suddenly, despite being a dirt patch, my yard looks green enough.Spending a day in nature is not the effortless thing I want it to be.
There is something about the constant building everywhere that affects me profoundly. My perspective changes frequently so that I feel as if I am looking down on this corner of the planet and it is hurting. All this cement, covering up soil, reducing the pathways where water might fall, be absorbed and nourish the land. I notice forest-y green patches along highways and send a little prayer that whoever is planning will leave that spot alone. Let it stay green, I whisper. And then I send out appreciations for the trees and the tall grasses and the wild beauty of the space.
The construction has begun again just near our house. What used to be a field bordering the lagoon, complete with palm tree silhouettes just after sunset, has now become row after row of cement walls. Ugly. Ugly everywhere, though somehow when I first visited Abidjan, I thought it was green here. Healthy. I've come to a new conclusion and I've also noticed an effect on my spirit.
A friend posted this link on her FB page with a paragraph somewhere in the middle that seemed to sum up everything I have been feeling:
That is because, in fact, the world presented to us as normal and acceptable is anything but. It is a monstrosity. Ours is a planet in pain. If you need me to convince you of that, if you are unaware of the destruction of forests, oceans, wetlands, cultures, soil, health, beauty, dignity, and spirit that underlies the System we live in, then I have nothing to say to you. I only am speaking to you if you do believe that there is something deeply wrong with the way we are living on this planet.
There is something wrong with the way we are living on and treating this planet. It leaves me feeling as though I want to find a little village somewhere and dig in deep. Withdraw from all these "new developments" that are really only sending us further back in consciousness.
Withdrawing isn't really the answer. In this city of mediocre, average, striving to be like all the others, I am getting lost. Every time I find something that lights me up, it disappears as soon as I discover it. My dance troupe, my capoeira class, collaboration with the girls' school, the boys' orphanage, and the botanical gardens- all come and gone in a flash. Shutting down before they ever really got started.
I've been trying to listen lately, really listen- to myself, the universe, whatever it is that will help me get back on the path. Because this stop over in Abidjan seems like the long cut to where ever it is I was going. Trying to get back to the creative life, the community life, the place where people see each other and always remember to say goodbye. Kende malamu- go well, remember? Go well, my friend, on your journey and be well. Treat the world well and come back so that we may share our stories.
I am not sure what this summer holds for me- another series of goodbyes for certain, but also some new beginnings. Perhaps a much needed shift in perspective as well.
