Having been in my village for six
weeks straight, I am definitely ready to not be here. I don’t want to feel like
that- it implies this life is a temporary one, that can be escaped from when
I’m ready to press “pause.” For everyone around me, this is life. There is no
pause button. Life here isn’t so, so difficult but there are certainly
discomforts to which I’m not sure I would ever grow accustomed.
In town this
week, I’m looking forward to eating whichever fruits and vegetables I choose
(within reason: we’re still in Zambia), being able to contact my friends and
family at any hour of the day, not having the wrong amount of sunlight to
charge my devices, not having to fix my bicycle, and sleeping well because NO MICE. They have been rustling around in my thatch roof for nights on end, keeping me from getting any worthwhile sleep. Plus, eating through my vegetables, toiletries, papers, and leaving messes for me to clean up. I think they are purposefully knocking down spice bottles off my shelf to try and wake me up. One even decided to enter my bed and woke me up while it was sitting on my pillow, even though my mosquito net was tucked in.
Are all these complaints things to which I would adjust if I didn’t have
the memory and option of living without them? I think of a Scottish couple that
runs a bible school in my neighboring district. They have lived in Zambia for
thirteen years and have Scottish blankets and Scottish coffee mugs at their
school.
I don’t think we ever forget the comforts of home. If someone from here
were to be transplaced, I imagine they would miss the pleasures of bathing in
the river, calling out to friends in the next village, or the smell of cassava
drying in the sun. Home is not only a time and a place but a set of things that
make up our culture.
Work here is also challenging, to
be constantly trying to engage people, wrangle people, and converse with
people. Maybe especially as a self-identified introvert (currently in reform),
I need a few days with permission to not be actively working with people or
struggling to communicate. I don’t feel like I need a break from work though.
In contrast, I feel like I’m not doing nearly enough in my village. It’s the
everyday hassles of life in a rural village from which I could use a temporary
reprieve.
31 October 2017
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