Ubuntu

“Being in a foreign country means walking a tightrope high above the ground without the net afforded a person by the country where he has his family, colleagues, and friends, and where he can easily say what he has to say in a language he has known from childhood.” –Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

How amazingly true. He said it so beautifully. I love him.

I was moving at what felt like 80 miles an hour and then someone slammed on the brakes and now I’m moving at 5 miles an hour. But my head is still somewhere around 40, so I think a lot in my spare time.

I’ve arrived at my new home and began work. Or, should I say, began showing up at work. This week, I seem to be waiting for everyone to return from somewhere else. Once this whole thing kicks into gear, I think I will be pretty busy.
The assessment of Jirapa’s water supply and sanitation methods will be quite a lot of work in itself. I look forward to it.
My day is broken into three parts: first, I go for tea every morning at the tea stand around 7 am (or earlier, this is my favorite thing each day), where I read and chat with the locals; second, I go to the District Assembly around 9, greet everyone, ask who needs my help, then its off to the hospital to help there, then home for lunch; last, prepare food for the day and visit with neighbors, bath and go to bed to read or write or draw or whatever. This leaves a lot of extra time for thinking, trust me. I love my little home and today I bought paintbrushes and rollers (thank God, I thought I’d have to brush the entire place) and tomorrow I will begin painting!!

Ubuntu…

My friend Harry, who I met by happy co-incidence, in Las Vegas oddly enough, sent me a wonderful message the other day. It was the word Ubuntu, which means "humanity toward others", "we are people because of other people", or "I am who I am because of who we all are," The interesting thing is that there was a torn sheet of paper, taped to my wall containing this word when I arrived at my home. I love how life flows together. Not a word could mean more to me than this one right now. I am who I am because of all of you! This word originates from South Africa, as does my friend Harry. Thank you Harry for another happy co-incidence.

Eulalia…

My sixteen year-old neighbor has lived through a horrible experience. She became pregnant around 14 and had an illegal abortion, which consisted of someone being paid to shove sticks inside her womb, killing the fetus. This resulted in extreme internal damage, fissures, and ended in her uterus rotting, leaving Eulalia septic and near death. So, with no other choice, she had a total hysterectomy and can no longer have children. In Ghana, this means she will end up a prostitute or go to school, which can be very expensive.

So, my dilemma, she knocks on my door, actually bangs on my door several times early yesterday morning and when I answer, gives me a terrible sob story about needing money to buy paper and pens and a compass for a math project.

I tell her I don’t have the money, which was true actually, and asked what she would do if I didn’t live here. She began to tell me that the previous volunteer would give her money and I stopped her and asked the question again. She said she would ask her parents and that she had and there was no money. So I asked her to think of a way to earn the money. She just stared at me. I said, Eulalia, think think think, and pointed to my head about what your talents are and how you can earn this money.

Now, here’s the other side to this coin. I was just like her. As a teenager, I’d sneak into the house with two boxes of new shoes, after my mom went to sleep and then not have enough to pay my car insurance. It did not stop there and in fact, I misspent money just before coming to Ghana. I don’t want to enable this girl. My intention is to build her up. I know I’m capable of it. To show her a picture of herself that is beautiful, intelligent, capable, talented. Though I am still learning to correctly budget, which is hard no matter how small or great your salary is, I certainly know how to make money. I’ve been working a long time and am so grateful for it.
So, I closed the door and felt a pain in my chest and thought of myself at her age and felt so confused. I’m glad I didn’t have enough to give her because the choice was made for me. There is so much more to do here that water sanitation.

Ramblings from the night…

I fall in love with nearly every writer whose work I indulge myself with. It never fails, male or female, living or dead, I connect so deeply with their work, their characters, so often while reading, I’ll pause and reread the author’s note or stare at their picture. I’m constantly wondering what has brought them to the point where they had no choice but to place their words on paper, for all of the world to see.
I fell in love with a writer just before coming to Africa. After a series of chance meetings, he entered my life at such a time when connection was the last thing I expected, yet there it was, in all its ferociousness. Yet, in the end, we both chose something else. Me, Africa and him, well, I’m not exactly sure what he’s chosen.
This has all been rolling around in my head, so I’ve forced myself out of bed to type it out, in case I cannot recall it in the morning. Though, I suppose once I wake and reread it, it may not actually be the sound reasoning I’d imagined it to be and quite possibly something I’d never wish to share with anyone.
None the less, here it is, my late night wonderings about love and life. I wonder if all this time to think will result in clarity or sanity. I suppose time will tell.
I’ve just begun reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being, by Milan Kunderas. I believe he is to blame for my mind set this evening.