seek and find

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

The Things That Put Fear in Me Are Intricate Parts of a Whole

23 June 2009

After a tumultuous trip to Kita, tumultuous yet productive and reassuring, I
returned to Mourgoula.

Tuesday. I forgot my headlamp in Kita. Both of them, actually. I gave my flashlight to Wurdia months ago. Last night was moonless and filled with bugs and tales of giant doglike creatures and snakes that roam the forest. Warring and attacking people…

It is very hot today; I slept until 830am and with good dreams and am happy.


(later that day)

Now I don’t feel much of anything.
Hmmm. I do like my new pen. I do hate the slew of roach nests I found near my front door. I do feel as though my paranoia radar is at full capacity. I do feel as though I could lie around, inside, all day and not mind a bit.

(later, still)

X days left in West Africa… and I don’t know how to feel about it. I’m in village but I don’t feel very present – I feel like really and truly getting into bikini shape rather than sitting with women and talking and misunderstanding and being laughed at.

There, that. That sort of thing is what makes the guilt almost too much to bear. What am I doing a) thinking about something so trivial as a bikini, b) killing myself over thinking about the triviality of a bikini when I’m 24 and in love and missing leisure and finally c) I wish I wasn’t always misunderstood, misunderstanding and the butt of a joke I can’t even understand.

Maybe I’ll hand out photographs. Always fun at first, then quickly regretted. I’ll wait for Safiatu to arrive for that.
Her sister had a miscarriage, in Bambara her “stomach ran out of her house.” She is with her sister in Kita; the bills are horrendous; the sister is alive but very sick. Obviously the baby was lost and sadly the husband didn’t even go with her in the “ambulance”
Tomorrow I’ll go to a field and work; in the afternoon I’ll do my routine and feel (falsely) accomplished.
Thursday I’ll go to Sirakoro and I’ll call home and Ryan and be happy and in love while perched on a rock in a field looking at mountains dreaming of mountains.

WHY DO I SIT AND WRITE WHEN I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY? Sorry, guys. I should have quit while ahead.


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