missing neighbors

Last night i realized something else that i miss very much. Not fufu and njama njama--i can make a meal that passably resembles that here. Not the heat or plenteous sunshine, although i do miss those too. No, i miss the community.

Granted, it can be aggravating to live and work with the same people, but the community wasn't that tiny: a good hundred people or more. I did hang out with people with whom i did not work directly. Besides that, i was teaching: a most lone ranger sort of career even if one is on a team.

Several hours a week (if not per day) were spent talking about life, politics, history, and our work with a colleague as we sat at our adjacent desks and watched the students walk past our window. I'd exchange waves with people as we passed going to or from the neighborhood. I spent several evenings a week hanging out or grading papers with another colleague, and we ate dinner together several nights a week too (I'd prepare mine and climb up two flights of stairs to eat with her and her housemate). I had tea or just a nice chat with someone in the office, and could pop by on weekends to say hello. Those were friends for two years or even for only one, but the amount of hours we spent together is much more than what i spend with friends here, which is probably why friendships deepen[ed] so much faster overseas.

That doesn't happen here. I do not work with people, i work alone. I do not live with colleagues. My friends do not live upstairs or across the street. I could make friends with the people across the street, i suppose, and i should be more friendly than exchanging mere salutations, but there is also something to be said for the deep bond of a faith community and a shared goal (which most of my neighbors do not have as of yet, and they're hardly home too).

I miss that. I've realized that you can't really return to a place; i've moved enough to know that through experience. It wouldn't be the same if i went back to where i was: many people, including my best friends, are no longer there. One does make new friends and it doesn't take as long, but it is always changing. And in that same token, i was fooling myself to think i really could come back here and feel like i belonged. Who was it that said "You cannot step into the same river twice"? (Ah, Heraclitus. Next question: where did i hear that!?)

I even miss the shallow things, like greeting the elderly lady who sat and knitted in the sunshine outside her house at the foot of the road, and the little kids that would run up to greet any adult who passed.

Ah, it's hard. A new circle will be built, but it does take a dismayingly long time.

time for some good things

The other day i caught myself singing a song:

Sachez que l'Eternel est Dieu, Il est le Roi, Il est bon...Il nous a donné la vie: Il est bon; Il nous a donné Son Fils: Il est bon. Il nous a donné sa joie: Il est bon.

It's a song that was sung at church and sometimes at school where i was. The basic translation is "Know that the Lord is God, He is the King, He is good...He's given us eternal life: he is good; He's given to us his Son, He is good; He's given to us his joy: He is good." The melody is cheerful and celebratory, and it's a call-response song, meaning that the song leader usually would put in the "He's given to us _____" bit and the congregation would respond: He is good.

Sometimes people here complain about how some songs are repetitive (or how the song is simple and we sing it through four times). I must admit, i do often see their point.

It never bothered me to sing call-response songs for an hour, though, even though they are by nature repetitive and change but only a little. Maybe it's because it's more like a meditative (and cheerful) chant, and an elaboration of a theme. I like meditating on God's goodness through that song, thinking of all the good things he has given as i sing.

going out for coffee

I didn't realize i needed to unwind from the past two years until just before i began this blog. Since nothing much has struck me lately, this may be coming to an end although there are cultural differences that still stand out.

For example:
I just got home from coffee with a friend. I probably shouldn't give that big green logo as much business as i do (although my usual is merely a tall decaf, nothing froofy) but i am as happy as a clam to have a relatively inexpensive place to go, the independent vehicular means to get myself there, the freedom to stay out as late as i like without a safety-curfew (or carjackings) to worry about...i do appreciate this very much.

Two cheers for America. It's far from perfect but it does have many good points.

I felt the earth move

Why do these things always happen while i am home alone?

It serves me right. If i had been in bed and asleep like a sane person i wouldn't have felt it at all. At least i had the handy dandy United States Geological Survey website to check: that way i knew it really was an earthquake and not someone trying to break into the house. It was very mild, merely rattling desk implements and my nerves.

I used to check the USGS website frequently when i was in Cameroon. My family and many friends live in earthquake prone areas, and i'd check every time a tremor was mentioned in their vicinities to see if it really was near them or not. I checked once because several of us felt something like an earthquake, but no earthquake showed up nearby. It might have been the large one in eastern Congo, but i doubt we would have felt it from so far way.

And now, i am near them.

new shoes!

A long time ago i read a short story by Ray Bradbury entitled The Sound of Summer Running. In it he extols the delightful feeling of new sneakers and how they can make a person feel exuberantly ready to run.

Although i do enjoy the springiness of new shoes, i don't particularly like running. I like gamboling, frisking around like a puppy after Frisbees i rarely catch. In Cameroon i walked several miles several times a week with a friend or two, and sometimes we'd run up the hills to get them over sooner. I'd bolt if it was raining and i was unprepared to be soaked. But in general, i haven't run much in recent history.

So, coming back without a lot of luggage room, my sneakers didn't make the cut. They had been dyed a dusty orange from walking & jogging on a orange dirt road for two years, the tread was nearly worn, and besides, they'd been to all kinds of agricultural land and through all kinds of...stuff. Not exactly the thing to make customs agents happy.

I didn't buy a new pair as soon as i got back. I have 'nice' shoes for work where sneakers are unacceptable. I don't run; it's too cold (to me) to hike right now; i'm happy walking in my sturdy sandals. I've gotten back into a walking routine, slowly--it's less fun alone, most of the time, although i do enjoy the quasi-solitude and quietness. Sometimes i walk with a friend--but it's a little creepy at night, even with a friend and a stick. Last night i felt like breaking into a run, but i didn't--it's hard to run holding a stick--and i was wearing sandals. I trip just walking when wearing my sandals; sometimes i trip while barefoot; and i had just had a painful reminder of my klutziness:

Last week i exuberantly broke into a run, randomly, while fetching something from my car. Alas, i was wearing loose flats. One slid off mid-stride, i tripped over it, and in painful slow motion crashed and skidded to my hands and knees. Jeans sure do come in handy in times like that! I have a huge bruise on one knee (why only one i don't know since they both hurt).

I decided it was time to invest in a pair of good sneakers.

So, today on the way to work i trotted down to my favorite out-doorsie store. A nice lady asked me about my plans for my sneakers, made recommendations, measured my feet, and brought out four varieties. I happily tried them on, walked up and down a ramp, skipped around a little bit...15, maybe 20 minutes later, i was the happy owner of a new pair of sneakers. Yay! Effortless, painless, and now i have happy feet. Tomorrow i am going to run.

(Until i find out i need my inhaler. That is harder to get here.)