valley's fill first

There comes a time in every one of my world travel/treks that i fall into a funk.  I usually slip into the muck about three weeks into my stay.  The last time i experienced this was Nov. 2002; i had been in India/Bangladesh for three weeks.  That time, i'd say, was pretty legitimate: i had just gotten over a food poisoning incident in which i threw-up everything but my toenails, the safety of the health fair that i was teaching at had been threatened by some anti-women-education guys, and bomb dogs were routinely sniffing out our lecture tent.  This time, i was just really bored, very alone and extremely hungry.  (Nothing too life threatening, unless the food issue continued, but i do know where the market is.)  Both times though, my perception of the world around me was skewed.  I was so introspective that i trampled the flowers in front of me, not even knowing to look up and notice them.  Both times, it took two things to wake me up.  In Bangladesh, i was standing next to one of the coordinators of the program and he handed me his cell and said, "It's your parents."  I don't remember what they said but i remember them praying with me and once again i had peace.  I know i sobbed like a baby while they were talking to me but after they hung up i felt in touch with life again.  I had a family and they loved me.  Soon after that, i went for a walk that took me and some others to another booth at the health fair.  This booth was run by a group of girls whose faces were badly disfigured because someone at some point in their lives had purposely thrown acid in their faces.  They were there to raise awareness and support.  All of them had already undergone at least one, if not several surgeries to help bring their faces back to some sense of normalcy.   Each girl had been through an untold about of pain and agony and were still able to smile, no matter how crooked that smile might be.  Within minutes after meeting them, hugs were exchanged.  My reason for tears was null and void.  The Funk of 2002 was officially over.  

 

My African funk started a few days ago.  I was getting no where with my English classes, (which i'll tell you about at a later date) they were still struggling to even remember the letters in the alphabet and i realized there was no way we could go on with pronouns or sentence structure, communicating was (and is still) a continuous struggle, the food wasn't cutting the hunger pangs (i was even eating okra), and it had been brought to my attention that i wasn't allowed outside the gate without an escort.  (Up until now i thought i had someone with me because i didn't know where i was going, but now that i had my bearings i figured it was all right to navigate alone, not so.)

 

We were a sad bunch at breakfast that morning (the morning the funk arrived).  Mama Gloria found out the night before that one of her brothers had died.  I was wallowing in homesickness.  Clemencia was itching her head continuously, claiming an allergy to mafura (a local fruit), and groaning about it.  Phineas was sulking for some reason, probably because i had just called him out on his B.O., (i know i'm not the best smelling flower in the garden but even the natives knew when Phineas was coming).  And Victor?  Victor was humming a meloncholy tune for some song that he was obsessed over.  (If you want to see passion when it comes to music, watch Victor.  Bach and Handel have nothing on this guy.  He can't compose or play the piano to save his life but he loves music.  There are two ways to get this guy excited, give him some new clothes or another song, and he is on top of the roof.)  We truly looked pathetic that morning and if i hadn't been drowning in self-pity i would seen a bit more humor in it.  Mama Gloria was the only one with a reason to be sad, the rest of us were just mourners for our own funerals.  

 

By the next day, everyone else was a bit more alive.  I was still in the dumps.  I lived there till yesterday. 

 

Yesterday started out as usual.  I got up, checked for messages on clemencia's email, had breakfast, and taught the english class.  When class was over at noon, i knew i had at least an hour before lunch so I took a walk without telling anyone.  Clemencia saw me leave but i thought i would be back in time for lunch.  They served lunch early since they were going to town and i missed it.  (Vital info i should have asked before my independant excursion.)  I returned as they were pulling the gate open and driving the car out.  I grabbed my bag and ran.  I missed lunch; i wasn't going to miss town.  Clemencia was on the hunt to get her some of her vaccines taken care of, to help in the process of getting her green card since she is hoping to meet her husband in the states shortly after i leave here in April.  We drove back and forth between two different clinics four times.  After the 4th trip to clinic #1 we got the desired vaccine on ice and headed to clinic #2 for the last time.  While waiting in the car, I asked why someone didn't just use the phone to call the two clinics earlier, to save time and gas.  I was told this is how things are done in Mozambique.  (Clearly, this is not a culture of efficiency nor convenience.  Which is an interesting fact to note since i witnessed as least three beggars hanging out on various street corners talking on cell phones.  Clearly, they are not completely poverty striken either, because if i were in their shoes my celly would probably be the first thing to go.)  After the shot was administered we headed off to the market.  I'm not particularly fond of the market; its smelly, dirty, and crowded but it's also a chance to brush shoulders with the natives and feel a little African.  Until, that is, they start laughing at you because you are carrying a bag of beans on your head like they do.  I was still hungry and the laughter didn't fill me, felt more like taunting really.  We finished our market business and headed to the main part of the city in search for books in English for this poor undercommunicated soul.  The bookstore was closed.  As we drove closer to the beachfront we passed "Nando's".  My friend, Erin, whose parents live in South Africa, told me about the restaurant.  She said that before i left Africa i had to eat there.  For the first time that day i came alive.  It was something i recognized, not to mention it had been 9 1/2 hours since my last meal.  I convinced them to stop the car and let me run in to get something.  (Erin, maybe it helped that i was starving and since it was in portuguese i don't know what i ordered, but it was the best tasting food i'd had since getting here.)  With some food in my belly, my day started to take a serious turn for the better.  Shortly after that, we stopped by a supermarket (a place to buy things that can't be bought at the non-super-market, like beans in a can)  While inside, gazing at all the glorious food, Clemencia walks over to me, hands me her cell phone and says, "it's choo muhter."  It wasn't my mother, it was my grandma, which was just as comforting.  That phone call (which included some mini hi's and i love you's from my younger sisters and a promise to write from the older of my two brothers -ahem!) was the first of two ingredients that were going to catalyst me out of the funk.  The others were watching me so i didn't sob like a baby this time but the call reconnected me with life outside myself.  Something about, "Hang in there", and "You'll be home before you know it" made me realize that my i wasn't here permanently, that this was once again an adventure and not a prison term.  For the first time since getting here i could actually see this place for what it was and is, no longer what i had perceived it as.  I was once again reminded that i had a family who loved me.  When we got back to the school, Clemencia uploaded our messages and i had two; a hilarious one from my sister, Becky, and one from my buddy, Dan.  Dan had included a quote from Albert Einstein, which, if it wasn't quite so long i would consider tatooing it on my body (i said 'consider', mom, i'm not saying 'definately would').  I'm not giving Mr. Einstein lip-service when i say that man was truly a genius.  That was the second ingredient.  God knew what i needed and sent it to me once again.  The Funk of Africa 2006 was over.  Its a little early in this venture to declare i won't need any more pick-me-ups between here and April but i'm seeing this place in a different light, and sometimes a different light is all you need.

 

"A human being is a part of the whole, called by us "Universe," a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty. Nobody is able to achieve this completely, but the striving for such achievement is in itself a part of the liberation and a foundation for inner security."  Albert Einstein. -Jessy, you're way ahead of the rest of us in escaping from this delusion. Now go hug Shoda for me.

 

 

And i gave Shoda a hug.