These days things move smoothly in the quiet of the hours. I spend my time getting to know people, talking as much as possible, working on a radio show program and preparing ideas for classes. Its not the most exhilarating experience, I know, but its still an experience. What can I say?
I cook, I clean, I wake up, I shower (sometimes) I look at my garden while drinking my hot tea in the morning and think about what I want to plant when I get my hands on my seeds, then dream about abundant plants sprouting near my house at night. I like green.
I have a puppy! She’s beautiful and huge and an absolute terror right now to my lack of interior decorations. Thank god for cement floors and OLD used clothing or I may have considered myself insane to go through this again. She’s possibly a German shepherd mix although the little weasel of a man trying to sell her to me for WAY to much money said she was a better breed than that. To me she looks a little like an elk hound but that’s what wishful thinking will do to you. She does, however, have the black and tan on the face of a German shepherd, although no black on her sides, finished with a black tail with a tan strip underlying. Little white booties and a little patch of a white crest on her chest compliments her whole look. I named her Cleo, after the clever Cleopatra, hoping the name will imbibe some of the attributes. So far the stubbornness is the only one apparent. But shes just so dang cute and is already proving herself a devoted companion in her own puppy ways.
I am feeling much more myself these days than I have in the past month as my life settles in and the rocks are pulled from my path. (There are always more rocks). I found myself today wishing for an old green sweater in the chill of the morning. It was my favorite sweater I wore all the time at home when it was cold. The mossy green combined with the warmth of the yarn made it golden in my eyes. I just find it funny that I think should think now of possessions I have left at home when I cant summon to memory more than 5 total. I feel more enticed by my surroundings too. Moving her was very strange; to feel the separation from your home again in a country where I have felt at home in so many places. For a week or so I felt like an observer only, observing myself dwindling through the day, the assistance of the videos pilfered from another volunteer and that helped my day move a little bit different. I forced myself to go into town every day at least once if not twice to meet or talk with someone in an effort of strengthening a relationship and was rewarded with two people asking me for money and two people with whom I am now on a touching basis. (Remember from many blogs ago that touching is an act of comfort and friendship among women in Malagasy communities.(Just in case that comment caused an arch in one or more eyebrows.)) I do find my creative inspiration coming along on its own terms also as I find myself thinking of stories already begun and stories still unwritten in physical form. When I am quiet enough to hear my muse speak again, then I know I am alright.
Afternoons usually find me lying in the sunlight reading a book. Because of this daily habit I have once again resumed my habits of chewing through books in mere days (at most). In the last week alone I finished Moretta, Dragonlady of Pern, by Anne McCaffrey, Their Eyes Were Watching God, by Zora Neale Hurston ( phenomenal book!!!!) and Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulemia, by Marya Hornbacher. A strange mix to be sure but since most of our reading materials come by whatever we can get our hands on you cant afford to be in anyway picky. Their eyes was an absolutely wonderful book and after reading it (took a little longer as it is written in the dialect of old south) it is easy to see why it has reached so much acclaim in so many circles. I wish it had been picked out to be read in my women’s studies class back in college (not that I went to that class but three times due to the dronamatic tones of the professor) so I at least would have had the exposure to it. Wasted is also an amazing reflection of the self. No, I was obviously never bulimic or anorexic but the reflection of struggle and mental wavering of growing up in an emotionally imbalanced household most people, including myself, can connect with and I found myself nodding my head and recognizing so many of the self realizations and self destructive tendencies she tried to follow in her quest to reach unattainably set standards. How many of us know this truth and refuse to see it? It was a wonderful book. This week I have started The No 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, by Alexander McCall Smith which is already proving to be quite captivating although I am forcing myself to read only a chunk a night in fear that I will eat the book and find myself with an empty plate all too soon. There is a sadness when a good book ends, like saying goodbye to a close friend with who you have shared the secret of the mind. There’s also the intense need for the satisfaction of discovering the secrets within the pages. it’s a difficult game to play but ultimately one queen will be forced to surrender.
This morning is very cold. It is a morning for warm pancakes and steaming syrup, or eggs and toast, or hot oatmeal with goodies. I had hot tea, but it was a delicious hot tea made from olive leaves and accented with a type of sweetened condensed milk and sugar. it’s a deliciously sweet and not so nutritious breakfast, but when your daily life forces you outside in the cold you do what you can to accommodate. Already this morning I have washed dishes, considered the absence of my favorite sweater from home, made and drank a cup of tea, wrote this blog, changed the sheets on my bed (puppy accident which will hopefully never be repeated), stretched out my legs from yesterdays exercise video and listened to at least eight tracks of classical music. Once finished with all this I will go into town and get eggs (hopefully) and a small wheel of cheese that will last me two days, three at most. I will consider dinner but defer it until later when I am more informed of my interests for the day. I will walk around my community waiting to be called a vazah so that I can introduce myself as the new teacher here and will smile and greet every person my eyes connect with. I will feel a wave of loneliness as I move through the streets, aware that there are more eyes recording my actions than I care to count and will feel the need to find a family in this new place. I will sweep my house 3-4 times, finish another three lesson plans before my brain burns out but I will feel a small sense of accomplishment in writing out Malagasy and English script for my radio show( 11 weeks, 2x a week, 22 lessons) , lose a few more games of minesweeper advanced but remind myself that in the last 4,000 games I have won one, then watch the day dwindle until around 4 when I begin preparing dinner to eat around 5 and have myself washed and in warm clothes for bed around 630. In bed physically but not asleep I will stay awake until around 8 or so then succumb to the sleep that is so badly needed. Thankfully this routine will go through overhaul once the school year gets closer and begins. But as for now I am subsisting. Happy, and still feeling like I am on the right track Ill go to sleep knowing that when I wake up tomorrow I will do it all again.
I wish I could play a game of chess. That is the amount of time I feel these days.
I cook, I clean, I wake up, I shower (sometimes) I look at my garden while drinking my hot tea in the morning and think about what I want to plant when I get my hands on my seeds, then dream about abundant plants sprouting near my house at night. I like green.
I have a puppy! She’s beautiful and huge and an absolute terror right now to my lack of interior decorations. Thank god for cement floors and OLD used clothing or I may have considered myself insane to go through this again. She’s possibly a German shepherd mix although the little weasel of a man trying to sell her to me for WAY to much money said she was a better breed than that. To me she looks a little like an elk hound but that’s what wishful thinking will do to you. She does, however, have the black and tan on the face of a German shepherd, although no black on her sides, finished with a black tail with a tan strip underlying. Little white booties and a little patch of a white crest on her chest compliments her whole look. I named her Cleo, after the clever Cleopatra, hoping the name will imbibe some of the attributes. So far the stubbornness is the only one apparent. But shes just so dang cute and is already proving herself a devoted companion in her own puppy ways.
I am feeling much more myself these days than I have in the past month as my life settles in and the rocks are pulled from my path. (There are always more rocks). I found myself today wishing for an old green sweater in the chill of the morning. It was my favorite sweater I wore all the time at home when it was cold. The mossy green combined with the warmth of the yarn made it golden in my eyes. I just find it funny that I think should think now of possessions I have left at home when I cant summon to memory more than 5 total. I feel more enticed by my surroundings too. Moving her was very strange; to feel the separation from your home again in a country where I have felt at home in so many places. For a week or so I felt like an observer only, observing myself dwindling through the day, the assistance of the videos pilfered from another volunteer and that helped my day move a little bit different. I forced myself to go into town every day at least once if not twice to meet or talk with someone in an effort of strengthening a relationship and was rewarded with two people asking me for money and two people with whom I am now on a touching basis. (Remember from many blogs ago that touching is an act of comfort and friendship among women in Malagasy communities.(Just in case that comment caused an arch in one or more eyebrows.)) I do find my creative inspiration coming along on its own terms also as I find myself thinking of stories already begun and stories still unwritten in physical form. When I am quiet enough to hear my muse speak again, then I know I am alright.
Afternoons usually find me lying in the sunlight reading a book. Because of this daily habit I have once again resumed my habits of chewing through books in mere days (at most). In the last week alone I finished Moretta, Dragonlady of Pern, by Anne McCaffrey, Their Eyes Were Watching God, by Zora Neale Hurston ( phenomenal book!!!!) and Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulemia, by Marya Hornbacher. A strange mix to be sure but since most of our reading materials come by whatever we can get our hands on you cant afford to be in anyway picky. Their eyes was an absolutely wonderful book and after reading it (took a little longer as it is written in the dialect of old south) it is easy to see why it has reached so much acclaim in so many circles. I wish it had been picked out to be read in my women’s studies class back in college (not that I went to that class but three times due to the dronamatic tones of the professor) so I at least would have had the exposure to it. Wasted is also an amazing reflection of the self. No, I was obviously never bulimic or anorexic but the reflection of struggle and mental wavering of growing up in an emotionally imbalanced household most people, including myself, can connect with and I found myself nodding my head and recognizing so many of the self realizations and self destructive tendencies she tried to follow in her quest to reach unattainably set standards. How many of us know this truth and refuse to see it? It was a wonderful book. This week I have started The No 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, by Alexander McCall Smith which is already proving to be quite captivating although I am forcing myself to read only a chunk a night in fear that I will eat the book and find myself with an empty plate all too soon. There is a sadness when a good book ends, like saying goodbye to a close friend with who you have shared the secret of the mind. There’s also the intense need for the satisfaction of discovering the secrets within the pages. it’s a difficult game to play but ultimately one queen will be forced to surrender.
This morning is very cold. It is a morning for warm pancakes and steaming syrup, or eggs and toast, or hot oatmeal with goodies. I had hot tea, but it was a delicious hot tea made from olive leaves and accented with a type of sweetened condensed milk and sugar. it’s a deliciously sweet and not so nutritious breakfast, but when your daily life forces you outside in the cold you do what you can to accommodate. Already this morning I have washed dishes, considered the absence of my favorite sweater from home, made and drank a cup of tea, wrote this blog, changed the sheets on my bed (puppy accident which will hopefully never be repeated), stretched out my legs from yesterdays exercise video and listened to at least eight tracks of classical music. Once finished with all this I will go into town and get eggs (hopefully) and a small wheel of cheese that will last me two days, three at most. I will consider dinner but defer it until later when I am more informed of my interests for the day. I will walk around my community waiting to be called a vazah so that I can introduce myself as the new teacher here and will smile and greet every person my eyes connect with. I will feel a wave of loneliness as I move through the streets, aware that there are more eyes recording my actions than I care to count and will feel the need to find a family in this new place. I will sweep my house 3-4 times, finish another three lesson plans before my brain burns out but I will feel a small sense of accomplishment in writing out Malagasy and English script for my radio show( 11 weeks, 2x a week, 22 lessons) , lose a few more games of minesweeper advanced but remind myself that in the last 4,000 games I have won one, then watch the day dwindle until around 4 when I begin preparing dinner to eat around 5 and have myself washed and in warm clothes for bed around 630. In bed physically but not asleep I will stay awake until around 8 or so then succumb to the sleep that is so badly needed. Thankfully this routine will go through overhaul once the school year gets closer and begins. But as for now I am subsisting. Happy, and still feeling like I am on the right track Ill go to sleep knowing that when I wake up tomorrow I will do it all again.
I wish I could play a game of chess. That is the amount of time I feel these days.
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