jim
Tragedy
10 years ago
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
This blog, that blog, moving on
This blog will live on, and I'll update it with memories and things if and when they come up. I'll try to put some pictures here soon, too. But for now, I'll be returning to the other blog: http://naivejim.blogspot.com. Thanks for reading. Really, thank you.
jim
jim
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Home
I'm home.
If I was a better blogger, I might have posted this much sooner. Unfortunately, I've put this off a little bit in order to adjust. I could probably have written something when I got off the plane, but I was tired. I think I have an excuse. But, had I blogged sooner, it would have looked something like this:
"I'm home. I bought cheese for mom and spilled coffee on the flight attendant. Now I'm going to bed."
All of that is true. I am home. I bought cheese for mom, smoked gouda, the best $15 hunk of cheese I've ever purchase. I did spill coffee on the flight attendant but that, I think, was her fault and I did apologize. And then I did go to bed.
To add a few more boring details: Both of my bags arrived safely in Detroit, where I checked them through, but one of them didn't make it to Grand Rapids. It came later that night and they sent it right to my house.
The first place I went when I got home was Panera Bread with my family. Dad was in St. Louis, so he couldn't join us. But I had long wanted a good sandwich, and Panera Bread delivered.
Sometime right before I landed in Amsterdam, McCain conceded the election and Obama won. And from that point until yesterday, I didn't stop hearing about it. Come to think of it, from the time I arrived in Dar Es Salaam, everyone was talking about it. When people found out I was American, they demanded to know why I wasn't in the United States, voting for Barack Obama. Wote Watanzania wametaka Barack Obama. My cab driver told me that he thought Kenya, and maybe Tanzania, too, would go crazy if Barack Obama won. He told me they wouldn't work for a week, and would just party. As far as I know, he's probably right.
The first question most people ask is "How was Africa?" And, God bless 'em, this is a terribly frustrating thing to answer. Because I can't really summarize or put it into words yet. How were the last three months of your life? You have to think about it, right?. This was not a weekend trip, it was three months of life. You can tell the people who've been there, because they ask specific questions. "What was something tough you experienced?" "Where were some of the places you went?" "What were the people like?" "What was the weirdest thing you ate?" Those are questions I can answer. If you ask, "How was Africa," I'll either give an equally brief answer ("Good.") or stammer and tell you awkwardly that I don't know yet. I don't have my impressions all formed yet. This is the kind of thing that doesn't make a whole lot of sense for a while.
Someone asked me in church today "is your heart there?" and I told her it wasn't. I've been expecting people to ask me if I'm going to drop everything and move there, and "Is your heart there" sounded an awful lot like, "Are you going to drop everything and move there?" She told me her experience must have been opposite because as soon as she was there, her heart was there, too. I loved being in Africa, but I'm glad to be home. I'm still at the stage where I'm soaking up home, reconnecting with everyone I haven't seen, enjoying brushing my teeth with tap water, and hiking in the woods without thinking about puff adders. So, my heart is pretty firmly planted here. For now. Which is not to say my heart isn't a little bit "there" too. And maybe someday I'll drop everything and move there. But for now, lots of people are going to get vague answers from me.
But ANYWAY.
I'm home and adjusting. I still wake up at 4 am for no good reason, and I'm still learning how, even in the span of three months, the world has moved on without me. And all of the pictures, the good pictures, are up on Facebook.
As for today... Today I watched football and it was glorious, even though it was the Lions.
jim
If I was a better blogger, I might have posted this much sooner. Unfortunately, I've put this off a little bit in order to adjust. I could probably have written something when I got off the plane, but I was tired. I think I have an excuse. But, had I blogged sooner, it would have looked something like this:
"I'm home. I bought cheese for mom and spilled coffee on the flight attendant. Now I'm going to bed."
All of that is true. I am home. I bought cheese for mom, smoked gouda, the best $15 hunk of cheese I've ever purchase. I did spill coffee on the flight attendant but that, I think, was her fault and I did apologize. And then I did go to bed.
To add a few more boring details: Both of my bags arrived safely in Detroit, where I checked them through, but one of them didn't make it to Grand Rapids. It came later that night and they sent it right to my house.
The first place I went when I got home was Panera Bread with my family. Dad was in St. Louis, so he couldn't join us. But I had long wanted a good sandwich, and Panera Bread delivered.
Sometime right before I landed in Amsterdam, McCain conceded the election and Obama won. And from that point until yesterday, I didn't stop hearing about it. Come to think of it, from the time I arrived in Dar Es Salaam, everyone was talking about it. When people found out I was American, they demanded to know why I wasn't in the United States, voting for Barack Obama. Wote Watanzania wametaka Barack Obama. My cab driver told me that he thought Kenya, and maybe Tanzania, too, would go crazy if Barack Obama won. He told me they wouldn't work for a week, and would just party. As far as I know, he's probably right.
The first question most people ask is "How was Africa?" And, God bless 'em, this is a terribly frustrating thing to answer. Because I can't really summarize or put it into words yet. How were the last three months of your life? You have to think about it, right?. This was not a weekend trip, it was three months of life. You can tell the people who've been there, because they ask specific questions. "What was something tough you experienced?" "Where were some of the places you went?" "What were the people like?" "What was the weirdest thing you ate?" Those are questions I can answer. If you ask, "How was Africa," I'll either give an equally brief answer ("Good.") or stammer and tell you awkwardly that I don't know yet. I don't have my impressions all formed yet. This is the kind of thing that doesn't make a whole lot of sense for a while.
Someone asked me in church today "is your heart there?" and I told her it wasn't. I've been expecting people to ask me if I'm going to drop everything and move there, and "Is your heart there" sounded an awful lot like, "Are you going to drop everything and move there?" She told me her experience must have been opposite because as soon as she was there, her heart was there, too. I loved being in Africa, but I'm glad to be home. I'm still at the stage where I'm soaking up home, reconnecting with everyone I haven't seen, enjoying brushing my teeth with tap water, and hiking in the woods without thinking about puff adders. So, my heart is pretty firmly planted here. For now. Which is not to say my heart isn't a little bit "there" too. And maybe someday I'll drop everything and move there. But for now, lots of people are going to get vague answers from me.
But ANYWAY.
I'm home and adjusting. I still wake up at 4 am for no good reason, and I'm still learning how, even in the span of three months, the world has moved on without me. And all of the pictures, the good pictures, are up on Facebook.
As for today... Today I watched football and it was glorious, even though it was the Lions.
jim
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
And now for my final thought...
I’ve never been good at summarizing. Which is pretty strange because I’ve read lots and lots of summaries (most often in textbooks to probe for buzzwords and easy answers before tests when I haven’t read the chapter). And so here I am, on my last day in Africa, waiting to go to the airport, and I really haven’t got a way to sum this all up.
Maybe it’s because where I am doesn’t feel like Africa. It feels like Florida. It feels like Generic Vacation Spot. I'm at SeaCliff, some expensive hotel that some foreigners built here so other foreigners can visit Tanzania and not have it feel so… foreign. They have a foreign supermarket where you can buy Oreos and Dr Pepper (which I just did, without hesitation.) You can eat at restaurants and sip lattes in coffee shops that feel just like the ones back home, and visit a book store to browse the same selection of books you’d see at a Borders or Barnes and Noble, and buy educational crap for your kids at one of those “Learning is FUN” type places that seem to be in every mall in the USA. But, I have already ranted about all of this before. I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t like places like this – it’s a nice and necessary step toward my own culture. And I’m sitting here anyway, so who am I to judge? It’s just not a place where I’ll say, “Yeah, this is what I’ll remember about Africa.”
This is the point of the post where, if I were in some pleasant, nostalgic writing mood, I’d break into some poetic essay on how serene the landscape is and how God must have surely saved His best ideas when he crafted Tanzania’s mountains and filled its pristine lakes, and how breathtakingly deep and full the night sky is, and how the church choirs sound like the choicest angels plucked from Heaven’s School of Music. All of those things struck me and you kind of need to come here and see them. Or hear them.
And if I had the time, I’d take a moment to summarize all the stuff I did or, if I were to rephrase it with modesty, the stuff “God did through me.” I readily admit that he had a role in everything that happened to, with, from, over, under, around, inside, or despite me while I’ve been here. The truth is, most of my impressions came not from the perspective of a giver or a doer or even a servant, but of a wide-eyed guy who just wanted to see how this part of the world works, one that hoped to be an instrument and did his best not to get in the way. I have had a wonderful time and I have no intention of downplaying it with sarcasm or cynicism. I love Africa and I would love to come back and maybe someday I will.
For now, though, I miss my home and my family and friends*, and in a few hours I’m going to get on a plane and go home and see them and shower them with hugs and lavish African gifts upon them. I am thinking more about there than I am about here. I have been on the road almost constantly for the last 35 days, and I’m almost back to my own bed, to my own home. I can tell you about what I will miss when I begin to miss it. Trust me, it will sound better then. It will be more poetic.
So I will conclude with the one nugget of information that seems to stand out more than any other right now, and that is this: If you go to Africa, and you ride the bus, and if the bus makes a bathroom stop, please please please watch your step.
See you soon.
jim
*Note: Not all friends will be lavished with gifts. Offer restricted to those who made specific requests. Must have replied by 31 Oct 2008. Must be 18 or older, excepting those warranted by executor of offer or by tribal council. Offer not valid in Puerto Rico or New Jersey.
Maybe it’s because where I am doesn’t feel like Africa. It feels like Florida. It feels like Generic Vacation Spot. I'm at SeaCliff, some expensive hotel that some foreigners built here so other foreigners can visit Tanzania and not have it feel so… foreign. They have a foreign supermarket where you can buy Oreos and Dr Pepper (which I just did, without hesitation.) You can eat at restaurants and sip lattes in coffee shops that feel just like the ones back home, and visit a book store to browse the same selection of books you’d see at a Borders or Barnes and Noble, and buy educational crap for your kids at one of those “Learning is FUN” type places that seem to be in every mall in the USA. But, I have already ranted about all of this before. I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t like places like this – it’s a nice and necessary step toward my own culture. And I’m sitting here anyway, so who am I to judge? It’s just not a place where I’ll say, “Yeah, this is what I’ll remember about Africa.”
This is the point of the post where, if I were in some pleasant, nostalgic writing mood, I’d break into some poetic essay on how serene the landscape is and how God must have surely saved His best ideas when he crafted Tanzania’s mountains and filled its pristine lakes, and how breathtakingly deep and full the night sky is, and how the church choirs sound like the choicest angels plucked from Heaven’s School of Music. All of those things struck me and you kind of need to come here and see them. Or hear them.
And if I had the time, I’d take a moment to summarize all the stuff I did or, if I were to rephrase it with modesty, the stuff “God did through me.” I readily admit that he had a role in everything that happened to, with, from, over, under, around, inside, or despite me while I’ve been here. The truth is, most of my impressions came not from the perspective of a giver or a doer or even a servant, but of a wide-eyed guy who just wanted to see how this part of the world works, one that hoped to be an instrument and did his best not to get in the way. I have had a wonderful time and I have no intention of downplaying it with sarcasm or cynicism. I love Africa and I would love to come back and maybe someday I will.
For now, though, I miss my home and my family and friends*, and in a few hours I’m going to get on a plane and go home and see them and shower them with hugs and lavish African gifts upon them. I am thinking more about there than I am about here. I have been on the road almost constantly for the last 35 days, and I’m almost back to my own bed, to my own home. I can tell you about what I will miss when I begin to miss it. Trust me, it will sound better then. It will be more poetic.
So I will conclude with the one nugget of information that seems to stand out more than any other right now, and that is this: If you go to Africa, and you ride the bus, and if the bus makes a bathroom stop, please please please watch your step.
See you soon.
jim
*Note: Not all friends will be lavished with gifts. Offer restricted to those who made specific requests. Must have replied by 31 Oct 2008. Must be 18 or older, excepting those warranted by executor of offer or by tribal council. Offer not valid in Puerto Rico or New Jersey.
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