On Blogging
Just so "my readers" know, I write these blogs not as someone who has something more important to say than the general population. I'm rather a private journalist, a tourist writing home, a girl on an adventure. My hope is that these reflectings are read like a newspaper or periodical of interest- fascinating one's imagination with yet un-travelled horizons.
I am doing some work that needs to be done here in Saharan Africa, just like you're doing wherever you are. Suddenly since I am in Niger, sanitizing my water bottles and all the novelties of daily living becomes an item to write about. Admittedly, that is one of the reasons I came!-for the buzz that I get from variety (the spice of life). But it is just as interesting as you boiling baby bottles or picking up your kids or searching for the root of a problem at a meeting, or working for the best of your clients at work. I just consider myself lucky to get to be doing the daily stuff in a setting that gives me some thrills, and quenches (and whets) some appetite I have.
The funny thing is, I could have written a blog for the last 5 years with stories one might gasp at and think, oh how noble, or what suffering she encounters, how important the work! But it was happening in our own back yard, where we are often numbed to the art and earnestness of life, by quotidian realities.
Here, I encounter the same things we all do—resistance to change, lazy motivation, "murphy's law" at every turn, daily routine that becomes normal and then annoying, and also brilliant ideas, generous collaboration, and things that actually work! I surmise that, the world over, our lives are all baffling and beautiful, and very often, that in the very same moment.
Besides being an outlet of reflection for my own soul, I hope this "journal" (French for "newspaper") can be an uplift to those who read.
A lifting of the eyes, to notice surroundings, piquing curiosity of the Divine
A lift of the heart, to take courage for living
A lift of the hand, in partnership with others
And a lift of the spirit, to ponder all these things like treasures in the heart.
Hee Haw
No wonder donkeys are the butt (or should I say ass?) of many jokes. They are such laughable creatures! The little buggers are cute inspite of themselves. They have a bulgy mouse-brown body, perky ears, cow-ish tail, and a dark grey cross that saddles their behind and back.
They are a dime a dozen in these parts, but there remains a lot I don't know about them, such as where do they originate from? I am pretty sure that the desert is not their birth place. I also have not figured out why the heck they make the sound they do. I was marvelling at the ridiculousness of the donkey music the other day and finally lighted on a way to describe it.
Let's go down to the market place just down the hill from our house on a Friday afternoon where the place is swarming with people and animals and honking motorbikes and dust. Grab your stick and let's kidnap all the tail-swishing meter-high brownish-gray beasts of burden who are parked by the bridge. Try to be casual as we carole them all out of town and discreetly onto one block on 5th Ave in New York City. Now block off the street and let them start their braying and hgeee-haawing.
"You're crazy!", you might object. But seriously, other than the lack of carbon emissions and upper class passengers, probably no one would notice a difference because the Nigerién donkey chorus would just sound like a regular traffic jam. And just as loud, just as stubborn and a lot more funny!
They are a dime a dozen in these parts, but there remains a lot I don't know about them, such as where do they originate from? I am pretty sure that the desert is not their birth place. I also have not figured out why the heck they make the sound they do. I was marvelling at the ridiculousness of the donkey music the other day and finally lighted on a way to describe it.
Let's go down to the market place just down the hill from our house on a Friday afternoon where the place is swarming with people and animals and honking motorbikes and dust. Grab your stick and let's kidnap all the tail-swishing meter-high brownish-gray beasts of burden who are parked by the bridge. Try to be casual as we carole them all out of town and discreetly onto one block on 5th Ave in New York City. Now block off the street and let them start their braying and hgeee-haawing.
"You're crazy!", you might object. But seriously, other than the lack of carbon emissions and upper class passengers, probably no one would notice a difference because the Nigerién donkey chorus would just sound like a regular traffic jam. And just as loud, just as stubborn and a lot more funny!
Hebdomadaire Two
(other things I do each week)
Floss.
Okay, I'm lazy.
Correspondence
Sunday mornings are blessedly quiet here and I make sure I never miss that time. I borrow the guitar and pull out my hymnal from my home congregation and follow my nose and the Spirit through scripture and song. Even just the silence and the morning breeze are a welcome correspondence with God. Weekends are also a time to catch up on letters, emails, blogs, news if the internet connection serves us.
Play
My legs tell me that I just need to break out in a run sometimes! So I channel this urge in various disguises:
running to catch a Frisbee
flying a kite
dancing
jumping rope at sundown
doing Tai Bo/aerobics at sun-up
declining a ride in the vehicle and walking back
Teach a little English class
As word of it has spread by mouth, there's lots of interest (it probably has nothing to do with the fact that we're the 2 single women on the expat team), but it's a handful that actually show up regularly. This has been fun to work with my English-speaking team-mate on a few creative lessons that we teach to whomever and whatever level comes. It's held in the late evening, midweek, after a full day's work. Nevertheless, as P and I lock up the office and trudge home together we often grin when we realize that we were energized by the little 'reunion'.
Floss.
Okay, I'm lazy.
Correspondence
Sunday mornings are blessedly quiet here and I make sure I never miss that time. I borrow the guitar and pull out my hymnal from my home congregation and follow my nose and the Spirit through scripture and song. Even just the silence and the morning breeze are a welcome correspondence with God. Weekends are also a time to catch up on letters, emails, blogs, news if the internet connection serves us.
Play
My legs tell me that I just need to break out in a run sometimes! So I channel this urge in various disguises:
running to catch a Frisbee
flying a kite
dancing
jumping rope at sundown
doing Tai Bo/aerobics at sun-up
declining a ride in the vehicle and walking back
Teach a little English class
As word of it has spread by mouth, there's lots of interest (it probably has nothing to do with the fact that we're the 2 single women on the expat team), but it's a handful that actually show up regularly. This has been fun to work with my English-speaking team-mate on a few creative lessons that we teach to whomever and whatever level comes. It's held in the late evening, midweek, after a full day's work. Nevertheless, as P and I lock up the office and trudge home together we often grin when we realize that we were energized by the little 'reunion'.
Le Souvenir
Voilà. Il et arrivé le moment pour ecrire un blog en français. Pardonez-moi de vous derranger, mes amis qui ne parlent pas le français. Peut-etre vous pencerez que 'Ooh la la! Elle parle bien le français!' mais, mes amis qui parlent le français peuvent voire bien mon vrai niveau de comprehension. ça va.
Aujourd'hui c'est le samedi, ça vous dire que un bon changement de routine. Chaque weekend, idealement j'ai le liberté pour faire tous le chose je voudrais faire pendant la semaine, mais je fais pas, à cause de le charge de travaille et le fatigue- chose comment lire, etudier, ecrire, jouer, cuisinir, lire, etc. Cependant, le moment de liberté arrive...et je relaxe, et je pert le motivation. Quelque choses ne changent pas, ne'st pas?
Je voudrais donner un grand remerci à mes colleagues et camarades ici aux Niger parce-que je sais bien que c'est pas facile pour ecouter a quelqu'un qui parle pas bien ton lingue. Il prend de patience et energie et temps. Néanmoins, personne m'a traité mal. Dans le moment de frustration, c'est le rire que nous aide. Comment un colleague gentil m'a dit, "ça c'est ton souvenir du Niger". Bien sure.
Aujourd'hui c'est le samedi, ça vous dire que un bon changement de routine. Chaque weekend, idealement j'ai le liberté pour faire tous le chose je voudrais faire pendant la semaine, mais je fais pas, à cause de le charge de travaille et le fatigue- chose comment lire, etudier, ecrire, jouer, cuisinir, lire, etc. Cependant, le moment de liberté arrive...et je relaxe, et je pert le motivation. Quelque choses ne changent pas, ne'st pas?
Je voudrais donner un grand remerci à mes colleagues et camarades ici aux Niger parce-que je sais bien que c'est pas facile pour ecouter a quelqu'un qui parle pas bien ton lingue. Il prend de patience et energie et temps. Néanmoins, personne m'a traité mal. Dans le moment de frustration, c'est le rire que nous aide. Comment un colleague gentil m'a dit, "ça c'est ton souvenir du Niger". Bien sure.
oh yeah. about the tired part (addendum to "Sick and Tired").
I know that I am normal because I got tired. On Wednesday I was exhausted to the point of tears.
Tired:
from not being understood
from not understanding
from not being informed
and tired from continuously trying to frame the right questions to get the information
This kind of vulnerability is like the exposure of one's neck and head on a freezing day- you can lose a lot of heat. Graciously a teammate "offered me her scarf" to conserve the energy and at my point of brief tears took me into her office, and let me warm up and spill my thoughts in my mother tongue.
On Friday it was to the point of laughter. At the end of 5 days of full-press French, a 2-hour meeting in French, then a 2-hour video conference translated into fast French, then I got home 9:30pm and heard the TV announcer chattering away in French as if that was acceptable (how dare she!)...and I blurted, " Can everybody just STOP SPEAKING FRENCH! It was a good laugh.
I know that I am normal because I got tired. On Wednesday I was exhausted to the point of tears.
Tired:
from not being understood
from not understanding
from not being informed
and tired from continuously trying to frame the right questions to get the information
This kind of vulnerability is like the exposure of one's neck and head on a freezing day- you can lose a lot of heat. Graciously a teammate "offered me her scarf" to conserve the energy and at my point of brief tears took me into her office, and let me warm up and spill my thoughts in my mother tongue.
On Friday it was to the point of laughter. At the end of 5 days of full-press French, a 2-hour meeting in French, then a 2-hour video conference translated into fast French, then I got home 9:30pm and heard the TV announcer chattering away in French as if that was acceptable (how dare she!)...and I blurted, " Can everybody just STOP SPEAKING FRENCH! It was a good laugh.
Global "Warming"
If this battered term could invoke images of a global-good-mood, that is how I would describe my world the day the news about our next president was wiggled to the farthest reaches of radio and satellite waves.
I think we've taken an important step and not a single person whom I have met since leaving my home country would disagree. I got hugs and cheers and text messages and laughter and claims of familial relations to the new leader! Experiencing this moment in history as an expatriate has been very enriching and has afforded conversations I would never otherwise have. Yahoo for this kind of warming!
I think we've taken an important step and not a single person whom I have met since leaving my home country would disagree. I got hugs and cheers and text messages and laughter and claims of familial relations to the new leader! Experiencing this moment in history as an expatriate has been very enriching and has afforded conversations I would never otherwise have. Yahoo for this kind of warming!
Sick and Tired
It's confirmed: I'm normal. Tuesday I got sick and Wednesday I got tired.
Retrospectively, it is good sometimes for a nurse to get sick so s/he knows how it feels, why a child cries with a fever, or gets fussy and doesn't eat. And why a person seeks caring attention when things aren't well. Every day I throw terms around like nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, fevers in the night and lack of appetite without a blink of an eye. Now I can enjoy a fresh reminder that it's not fun and that it's worth throwing those terms around with a hefty measure of compassion.
It's also a great booster for gratefulness- for health and the miracle of our bodies and the One who gave them to us.
Retrospectively, it is good sometimes for a nurse to get sick so s/he knows how it feels, why a child cries with a fever, or gets fussy and doesn't eat. And why a person seeks caring attention when things aren't well. Every day I throw terms around like nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, fevers in the night and lack of appetite without a blink of an eye. Now I can enjoy a fresh reminder that it's not fun and that it's worth throwing those terms around with a hefty measure of compassion.
It's also a great booster for gratefulness- for health and the miracle of our bodies and the One who gave them to us.
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