birds

I'm consolidating my life list--birds that i have seen in various places. I also overhead some people complaining about dating. Oddly enough, the way my brain works (a bit like a ping pong ball) weaver birds came to mind.

There are many species of weaver bird; i'm still checking which one i saw in Cameroon. They build purse-shaped nests out of plant material, usually strips of palm fronds. The palm trees around the country were often spindly-looking--not the lush images you see in tropical beach photos of Hawaii or touristic posters. The birds nearly kill trees by stripping off all the leaf material.

Then they load up the nearly-empty fronds with the hanging nests. It can look a bit decorative, especially on non-palm trees. If you have ever seen a pomegranate tree in winter with the ripe red fruit hanging on the bare branches, you've seen a similar silhouette. The main difference is that weaver bird nests are grey-ish instead of a vivid red, and a cacophony follows wherever they go.

Male weaver birds are the ones who weave the nests.

Somehow they convince a female weaver bird to come check out the nest they have built. My understanding is that she does her best to destroy the thing. If she is unsuccessful, they live happily ever after (until the breeding season is over). If she does destroy the nest, the poor bloke has lost his chance with her and must start over to try and woo another.

Sometimes, despite the male's best architectural designs and the female's careful choosing, the nests do end up on the ground. Maybe a human decided to chop down that bamboo stick. Maybe there is a particularly bad storm and the nest is blown away. Maybe a snake or another predator gets to the nest. No way the birds could have predicted that; they did their best with the knowledge they had.

I wonder how eagles and Canada geese choose each other? Mating for life, their choice is of greater significance than that of serially monogamous birds yet i've never heard of them testing a nest first.

garments

There are clothes in my closet that i do not wear.

I suppose that is true for many people.

What i am getting used to again is that i'm not wearing them NOT because they don't fit or because they are out of style, but mostly because they are for (very) warm weather and it is currently cold. Sometimes i do wonder if i'll ever wear them again--my favorite sundresses from Cameroon, for example. They are comfortable and they are blue, two qualities most of my favorite clothes share, however they are not the most fashionable garments around. I'm not particularly trendy and i don't choose my clothes because they are (or are not) fashionable, but now that i'm around a full-length mirror i have realized that these dresses aren't...flattering...particularly. They are very simple, very loose, shifts. The prints are bold and bright. They are perfect for the tropics where air movement is essential in the humid heat and the bright blue fabric contrasted nicely with iron-rich dirt and green plants. I'm not so sure i have the requisite confidence to wear them in hip, sexy Southern California.

Meanwhile, they hang in my closet taking up space. Should i give them away? i wonder. Would that benefit anyone: would anyone wear them? Should i cut them up for a quilt? Should i have left them in Cameroon? I can't undo that decision--and i miss some of the clothes i did leave there! I can't find things just like them because they're three years old.

Clothing choices here *are* plentiful, and i can find anything in my size. Clothes shopping here is easier than going to Mokolo, the imported-used-clothing market in Yaounde. Very nice things from Korea, Germany and other countries were available there, but if you saw a skirt or shoes you liked and they weren't in your size, too bad. No other choices. Here, there are changing rooms so that you can try things on instead of giving it your best guess. Here, you can say "I'm just looking" and the salespeople believe you. Here, other than sales (where the crowds freak me out) anytime is pretty much as good as the next for someone who is not a fashionista. There were definitely better times to go to Mokolo: right after a shipment there were more options but prices were relatively high. Right before a shipment there were fewer choices but more bargains. It's been quite a jolt to go from paying about $2 for something to paying much, much more here!

I think i'll let the dresses hang for a little longer, at least until it is feasibly warm enough to wear them again. And if i don't wear them then...well, i have five months to get used to the idea of letting go.

my mother found my blog

Actually, i told her about it. We were talking about the various merits and demerits of blogs, & i mentioned that i had started one and gave her the url.

She questioned if perhaps i was being a bit harsh. About what? i asked--about the idle loafers in front of bars (see "culture is how you look"). Perhaps they work at night, she said.

Okay, maybe. Maybe they work at night. That doesn't change the fact that during the day they loafed at bars and made nasty comments to women walking by. If you've read any of the #1 Ladies' Detective Agency books, think of the young men who work at the garage and add some R-rated material.

So, here is my caveat: all of this is my opinion. The contents are merely my observations and i'm not trying to be objective. Perhaps i'll begin using my historiography training in a few months to write more well-rounded, objective, positive observations but i'm not trying to convey any other than what comes to mind at the moment, because that's what processing is.

A man i respect greatly read all of my newsletters. He also got my quasi bi-weekly updates. He said, when i got home, that he often wondered what was really going on in my life, and what i wasn't saying. He wondered if my newsletters were censored.

Censoring is a difficult word to weigh as it carries highly negative connotations. There were newsletter readers and they were not oppressive, but i did feel a burden to give an overall positive impression with each communiqué. Was that censorship? I don't think so. I still feel a burden to give good impressions--isn't that what humans usually want to do? And the readers checked spelling and layout, too; it wasn't only linguistic content that they checked, and i found that very helpful.

So. There is Truth. It has many sides. I don't claim to know all of them and have a whole picture, but my bits ought to count, too.

gardening

Good plants, like clover, come out easily. As a leguminous plant, clover is good for the soil and a good pasture plant, even if it is often considered a weed in rose beds or lawns.

More insidious plants are nigh impossible to completely remove. I'm gardening for a lady at my church who is going blind. Her yard must have been beautiful once, but as she has reduced mobility and vision, she hasn't been able to keep up. We're going to make it blossom again but first i have to get rid of the choking things: an ivy that's ripping apart the fence. A morning glory vine that's taking over three back yards. Creeping grass. And then a nasty fern thing with thorns, red berries, and root suckers all over the place.

I always found plant rate of growth amazing in the tropics. If you cut a stick off a tree and put it in the ground, in rainy season, it will sprout a new plant. People are constantly cutting the grass, cleaning plants out of gutters, and clearing the ground in front of their houses. The trick is, it isn't only good plants that grow at that rate: unwanted vines climb up corn stalks and drag them to the ground. On the other hand, many Cameroonians i met knew the nutritional and medicinal value of plants that, to the uninitiated, look like mere weeds. They weren't cultivated, but they were plucked for use where they did sprout up. Like a spinach-like plant--it had purple flowers and grew in the lawn. I found out you can eat it. Steamed, it was very tasty.

ignorance is not bliss, but i am tempted to be an ostrich

Here is a little advert: I enjoying listening to NPR. I listen to it on 89.9 and hear well-written news items, thoughtful non-gratuitous human interest, Which Way LA, and very interesting music.

I heard on the news that England was considering a ban on the creation human-animal hybrid cells. In fact, it was news to me that ban--legal or personally internalized from ethics--doesn't exist right now. One of the arguments AGAINST the ban was that England, who leads (i guess) in cloning research as with Dolly the Sheep, would fall behind places like Singapore and China...

...who allow such hybrid research.

My mind is boggled.

I cannot imagine nor fathom the decrepit state of ethical reasoning that demands the right to do research like this. "Let's do something horribly wrong because it might give us a chance to defend ourselves against other things that aren't right with the universe. And by the way, we'll make lots of money and keep a healthy science research economy here."

As if everyone would benefit from medicines derived from hybrid cell research--i bet it's very costly.

As if money was the end that justified all means.

Slightly offsetting that nasty shock is the news that Japan's parliament is considering a bill to ban human cloning, and also to ban hybrid human-animal cell research. It's a very short news blurb but here it is for reference: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/713606.stm. If you follow such news, you probably already know more than that. If you don't...well, sorry to put a damper on your day.

lessons

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. (Paul, Romans 8:18)

This coming from a man who was shipwrecked, hungry, cold, sleepless, nearly killed by stoning, chased from town to town, beaten several times, and experienced a mid-life crisis/change of status i never will. If i feel like i haven't gotten anywhere, i wonder how Paul felt when he realized his goals had been off-target? No wonder he breaks out in praise of God's grace in his writing.

I need to suffer more graciously--to not discount whatever i'm going through, it isn't fun or easy--but to see it as an opportunity to improve my responses to situations not of my choosing. Life is an opportunity to become more Christlike. If even Jesus had to suffer to learn obedience, i certainly will need more than few bumps in the road.

Maybe i should start fasting regularly. If i can go through a day without eating and remain pleasant, without grumpiness or complaining, that training may help me go through days like yesterday without feeling self-pity, too.

fulfillment

Today was a bad day. The sun was shining brightly, the sky was clear and blue, it was warm enough that i could wear clothes that didn't go to my ankles...but i'm sure glad the day is over.

First bad thing: Overslept, so breakfast was in car instead of at kitchen table studying, putting me behind schedule with that classwork. Need to not oversleep even if sick.

Second bad thing: Dropped the back of a new earring while trying to put it in while driving to work. Note to self: stop doing two things at once while driving stick!

Third bad thing: I like my office job most times--but today was phone calls, phone calls, and more phone calls. I hate telephones (see entry #3). On top of that, i hate how receptionists change from a cheery welcoming tone to drab "go away and stop bothering me because you are worthless" voices when they discover that rather than a cash-bringing customer, you are a cash-taking vendor. I'm still human, and i'm bringing something they do need.

Fourth bad thing: I didn't get through half as much studying at lunch as i wanted to and i'm overall discouraged on that. Once Thursday is over the dice will be cast. Until then i'm stewing and studying.

Obvious* good thing: Found back of earring.

Fifth bad thing: On one of my calls, a man answered the phone as if i was his wife, because he thought it was his wife calling. Now, i would only do that if i had caller ID and KNEW it was my spouse; and even then, what if he (in my case) had lent his phone to someone? That's happened to friends of mine.This might have been a good amusing thing if phones didn't already make me nervous: it was terribly embarrassing. I'm not sure why--i don't know the man, he doesn't know me--but since i hate phones already, i really didn't want to pick up the handle and make another call after that!

Sixth bad thing: I parked under a tree. Birds were making a nest in the tree.

Seventh and worst bad thing: Yesterday i got an email from my alma matter. Today i read it. It had a link to the newly-launched newsletter of the history department. Do you know how many people in my class or younger now have prestigious PhD's and teaching positions at national recognized universities and measurable career milestones? And here i am, loathing history studies, applying to graduate school in a completely different field with slim hopes of getting in, rejected in a previous attempt at graduate school (for history, so maybe that wasn't so bad although still wince-worthy), having very little direction (because i'm pointing in several at once), and on my third career change.

People have told me: hey, you have had interesting experiences. Yes. That's true. But they don't get me anywhere. They don't add up to anything. I'd be happy if i was 90 years old and people said: "Hey, you've had interesting experiences!". Right now, at 28, i need a resumé instead of a conglomeration of miscellaneous adventures. I think i've found what i want to do until i retire (and probably after that too), but i'm not sure my curricula vitae hasn't messed up my chances of getting to do it.

I didn't have bad days like this in Cameroon. I had direction. I had purpose. I had sunshine all year 'round.

But i don't want to be teaching history to impressionable young people and i'm not yet qualified to teach anything else.

I believe that God is good all the time. I believe that despite my free will, His sovereignty means that wherever i am, that is His best for me at the moment. But i can't help feeling that His best right now is to teach me a lesson, only i can't figure out what that lesson is.

Sigh.

*I know my life relatively isn't that bad at all. I have food to eat, tidy clothes to wear, shelter, a relatively warm bed, clean water to drink, a pet, friends, family, freedom of worship, freedom to vote, lots of education, some sort of employment, and access to masses of information in my language. Add to that that i'm female and still have all the above, since most of the world's women do not. I'm not sure i agree with that psychology scale of needs though: right now i'm in desperate need of fulfillment and i'd go hungry, petless, cold, bed-less and clad in rags to have it.

precipitation

It is drizzling here tonight.

There is an African proverb that i love:

Let your love be like the misty rain: coming softly, but flooding the river.

But i only experienced misty clouds, not misty rains, in Africa. Rains were usually tempestuous, temperamental downpours that you could hear coming for kilometers, thanks to corrugated metal roofs. Sometimes that advance warning was enough time to bolt for home before getting soaked (and having one's laptop and grading get soaked). Sometimes you were too far from home, and could feel your shoulders instinctively droop in the hopelessness of staying dry. I like playing in the rain, but not with my computer, work clothes, and books!

I miss the rains in Africa (yes, like the song). :-) But because i am tired, if i finish this entry now it will be more melancholy than it ought to be. I will wait until tomorrow.

Today: The canyon winds are blowing. The sky is clear; the air is dry. Despite last night's rain, i need to water the plants in pots on the porch.

Back to about Cameroon: Even under an umbrella or overhang people got wet, because the water ran ankle-deep on the ground, and came down so hard it splashed up waist-high. Walls there are spattered with orange about one meter up--hence why it's aesthetically smart to have mud-brick houses, or paint the plaster a nice terracotta color: the splashes blend in. A good half of the rains were thunderstorms: the lightning was amazing, spidering horizontally across the sky or staking the ground. I liked it when the power was knocked out (for a short while) and you could sit in awe of the power of the storm outside. The thunder drowned out the sound of everything else (even the raindrops on roofs) and made me think of some Psalms where God's voice is described as thunder: mighty, awe-striking, and not to be taken lightly.

culture is how you look

In Cameroon a modest woman, national or foreigner, doesn't boldly look unfamiliar men in the eye. To do so, at least in the city, invites more lewd comments than usual from the idle loafers in front of the road-side shops and bars, who spend their time playing checkers, discussing sports, & checking out girls.

In Cameroon, the route to school did not have a sidewalk, only a wide shoulder. It was paved but uneven, with all sorts of interesting bits of things on the road. Chickens and dogs crossed at leisure, and either began browsing (the chickens) or flopped down for a nap (the dogs).

Because of all this going on, and because i have a tendency to trip over nothing as it is, i usually kept my eyes down as i walked to school. Sometimes this was embarrassing, as when i would pass someone i knew well. They would catch my arm, i would look up startled, and then we would laugh and greet each other. Overall, i developed a tendency to either look down as i walked, or if i held my head high, look straight ahead and make little eye contact with men.

I come back to the States and discover i'm doing the same thing. I pass a kindly-looking older gentleman on the street walking to a mailbox, and i don't acknowledge him. I'm at Starbucks reading, look up for a breath, notice a man just walked in, and look away hoping he didn't notice what i just risked. Even at church, i avoided eye contact with men.

This poses several problems!

For one thing, i think Dallas Willard is right on target in Restoration of the Heart when he says the two ways humans hurt each other are through attack and withdrawal. He writes that drivers where he grew up used to acknowledge each other with a friendly fingers-off-the-steering-wheel wave, even to people they did not know. It was a simple, polite acknowledgment of the other's existence and human dignity. We don't really do that anymore in the general public.

I think our society (and world in general, it's not a particularly American flaw) suffers from both attack and withdrawal. I'm not talking about how personal/family relations are messed up here, but regarding strangers. People don't smile, wave, or even make eye contact. I feel like i've failed to be Christ-like when i don't. It feels almost as bad as when i do look up to smile and acknowledge passers-by, but they are looking down or straight ahead: ouch, rejection!

The other problem is that, ahem, i want to appear open and friendly. I want to meet new people and make new friends, men and women, and maybe have a few coffee dates with interesting guys. That isn't going to happen if i don't appear friendly!

So, i'm practicing. When at a stop light, sometimes i'll look over and acknowledge the other drivers. Instead of looking away, which might (or might not) be taken as a huff, i'm trying to smile. I know, no sane, sober man is going to roll down his window and ask for my number, but it's practice for when smiling does count.

2007

My supervisor in Cameroon had a fantastic tradition of asking people where they had been in the past year. She'd usually ask at your birthday: what were you doing or where were you last year? I started asking myself those reflective questions at other milestones, like Christmas and New Year's Eve.

I can't remember what i did for New Year last year, which bothers me, and i have no immediate resource to check. I have a journal entry for 23 December 2005--while in Maroua, describing the trip and jotting down notes of what i needed to write from the past few days (which i didn't do, oops). The next entry is 15 January 2006, after going to Kribi with friends for a quick weekend away after the first week of the semester.

2005-2006 was a very different holiday season--traveling and away for Christmas, friends out of town when i was back--i wish i had written down more. One day just blends in to the next when they're spent in similar ways. Perhaps i could try capturing bits of it now before even more memories fade, and i could ask a few friends with whom i know i spent it.

This New Year was fun, although it was also very different. I didn't write down a letter to read in September, and we didn't have a reflection time before midnight. Kind of missed that. It's interesting how a similar setting throws into sharp relief what isn't the same.