Rain

My body is sticky. Yes, still sticky. Up until five minutes ago, it was a “three” shower day. A shower in cold water. No hot water for us in this season. No sir.

The sky has been looking heavy for hours. I thought it was maybe just smog. Finally, it broke and relief has come at last.

When the rain comes it washes away the stink of the city. It beats the garbage into submission and then sends it down river. In this place I’m keenly aware of the abuse we as people have heaped on this earth that God took such delight in creating. Here, not many think of how their choices affect others or nature. When it rains people run for cover, so the streets are empty. It gives nature a chance to breathe a bit without the interference of mankind. When the thunder bellows from the heavens it sends me a message that we are so much more fragile than we like to pretend. We can’t even stand to get a little wet.

I’m  sad when I hear that it’s dying down. I like it in full force. I want more time with it. I don’t want it to go away so quickly. Stay a little longer and make deeper trenches of mud. Eat away another layer of concrete that was built over a baobab forest.

At least keep it up until I get myself a cup of tea and can sit out under the shelter of my verandah and watch you fall.

Click here to see rain at the phare:) Rain at the Phare

Sticky

It is so sticky here that laying in bed feels like you’ve smeared yourself with jam and then layed down on a felt surface. Having any skin to skin contact is repulsive and annoying…immediatly. Even when its my sticky little baby boy. The humidty makes hair grow fast. Facial hair and leg hair at warp speed. Really almost no reason to pluck or shave.
People are lazy (including myself) because all the life is sucked out, including mental energy. That is why I’m ending this post now. Too t.i.r.e.d.

In search of paradise

I’m a discontented person. I’ve struggled with it all my life. The grass has ALWAYS been greener on the other side in my life and no matter how lush my garden actually is, it’s never quite the paradise that I long for.

We live in a beautiful spot. Its beautiful for Senegal and in the rainy season its just plain beautiful all around. From my hut (one that my husband built for me) on my roof (which I have to climb up to on a long, metal ladder) I can see a green mountain with a lighthouse on top and a clear, blue ocean below. I sometimes think “What the heck? How did I get to live here anyway”. But then, there are the ‘down’ sides that trash up my vision.

Our house is located in the middle of a traning center. A very busy training center. Its lined with windows, so literally I can see whatever is going on at all times from any corner in my house. That also means that everyone outside can see into my house. I often hide in dark corners, or crawl under my windows when I don’t want to be seen. At night, after I’ve gotten out of the shower, I turn off all the lights, run into my room, make sure that the fan is not blowing open my curtains before I get dressed and turn the lights back on. We live in a fish bowl.

It’s a toss up when is the busiest time. During the week we have full time workers that wander around to and fro. If I want to go outside for some fresh air, I have to take into account that I will be out there at least 20 min. saying good morning to everyone. Sometimes this is ok. But everyday? Its not the people. I really like them. Its just…hard to be that social everyday.

Weekends are different. Most of the workers are gone, but that is when we get our heavy conference traffic. Which means strangers out my front door. At least with them I don’t feel obligated to greet every single one. So what do I do? I stay in my house. Do you feel my pain?

So, when I got back I decided that this was the LAST year I wanted to live on the property. I determined that as I homemaker I would be much more focused on my kids and husband if my day wasn’t flittered away with a billion small conversations with various peeps. My husband and I decided we would start to ‘look’ for another place. Just look, mind you. Just to see our options.

Today we looked. And we looked. And we drove. And we saw. My how we saw.

Out of millions of homes stacked on top of each other, only ONE neighborhood had any sort of yards to speak of. Yards are very important to us. Is it a value that we will have to sacrifice for privacy? Most of the homes we drove by were HUGE and probably way out of our price range and the ones that looked like we could afford them were even more public than my own house. Yes, I suppose that IS possible.

As we drove on the to property we passed the four or  five groups of men sitting in various seating circles in ‘our’ front yard. We waved and I sighed. What is it that I want? And is it too much to ask? I’m not whining, I’m really asking. Maybe that doesn’t exist in this life that God’s called me to right now. Maybe privacy has to be redefined. Inner privacy?

We drove into our parking spot in the back, and I noticed today there was no one on the back side of the house. It was like we actually do have a backyard. We have amazing plants here. Birds by the bizillion. And of course we do have that view of the ocean.

So why is up there?

How come my long post is not part of all my other posts???

This wacky word press.

What happened to my LAST POST???

Ok, so I know the power goes off like every other minute, but I specifically remember writing a long..VERY LONG post about “Finding Paradise” and I even pushed the publish button!

WHERE THE HECK IS IT???

Why don’t my beans get soft?

I have lots of questions. I’m a question asker. Since I’ve been back in Senegal that is all I’ve done is ask questions:

“What, am I CRAZY?”
“Is it possible to NOT have the power go off every time I write an email?”
“Why do my children leave their stuff in MY room and not in their own?”

My question for today is

“Why dont’ my black beans get soft??” I have tried the “fast method” and then the “not so fast method” and even the ‘SLOW soak method” and they still are hard and not at all tasty!! What am I doing wrong??? What secret must be unearthed for me to have tender black beans?

I’m happy to be back in Senegal. Somedays. I had a rough re-entry around the fourth day I got back. Lots of crying and some borderline crazy behavior.

I’m on the mend, though. Much of it is due to feeling better. Some of it is due to acceptance. Parts of it is because the memories of the amazing summer I had are starting to fade just a little. I don’t get the soccer ball sized lump in my throat everytime I envsion my families faces. Uh oh, I lied. Here comes a tear. Drat!

Too much social

Am I really saying that out loud? Yes. After a whole day of speaking french and getting corrected every five seconds, I can say with vigor…I’ve had too much social for one day.

When it rains it pours and that has been the case this week for me and my kids and friends. It seems like every person we know in this country has stopped by to visit. In the midst of the visiting there is the everyday visiting, drop ins, things that need to be taken care of for people. Its really exhausting.

I really love friends. I really love relationships. But I can get peopled to death very easily. After a certain point I literally cannot continue talking. My mind goes blank. I stare at people blankly and I start yawnig incessantly. I”m sure it makes the person I’m talking to feel real good. I want to give it my all, my best shot, because I want them to feel important. Its not on purpose, I just shut down.

Here especially, I have this overwhelming desire to keep friends that I have made, so I will be super sociable at any cost to earn their love. This is neither right or healthy. Jesus is supposed to fill me and I know that this desire I have to be filled by others is dangerous. It’s not healthy because once the social time is gone, I often fall headlong into despair. Weird, I know.

My french friend, we’ll call her “Belle”, came over today after she had already canceled because her daughter was sick. When she canceled I had this open window to make another engagement for later. When she showed up, however, after she had called and canceled I almost wanted cry. Not because I didn’t want to see her, but because I wanted to give her my full attention but I was SO TIRED. In the end she stayed for only an hour and I was able to give it a good 50%.

So after all this, I must pull up the old bootstraps and paste a smile on my face for another hour or so, because we’re off to a birthday party. We’re looking at about 30%.

Am I crazy or do I just have a lot to say?

I’m already spending too much time on this thing. Trying to figure out this gadget and that gadget. I quit my other blog for lots of reasons, but mainly it was eating up time I didn’t feel like I had. Now, as I look back, I think that was true, but also, I’ve been in a deep dry valley for several months and I think me letting go of my blog was just the beginning of letting go of lots of things. Not all good, mind you. I started shedding the good with the bad and it left me a bit lonely of spirit.

I’ve never given up on the idea that I would one day start a fresh, and I’ve had moments when I thought “OHH, I’ve got to share this on a blog”. However, I’ve come to a new place in my blog life and that is to have very low expectations of myself (not needing to write one everyday), others (not required to read or comment), and of the whole blog industry. Its a strange thing getting your feelings and thoughts out there for the world to read, and I’m not sure why we are compelled to do it. I think it’s because we fear death ( I don’t really, but I like this line from “Moonstruck”. It really went “Why do men cheat?”"I think its because they fear death”). Thats why we write blogs.

I talked to my dad who keeps a faithful blog and has for several years. He told me he writes what he thinks about and then leaves it at that. He’s not turned off by the lack o comments. He just has something to say. I told him and my mom I wanted a place that I could just write about what I was thinking about. Several times when I come out of my Bible Study I’m BURSTING with wanting to share. This is a place to do that.
Also, I”m living a crazy, cool cross cultural life. I’m a mom in a third world country. I’m making friends with koreans, french, senegalese, english..people from all over the globe. It feels good to say it out loud, as it were. Its along the idea that saying a prayer out loud is almost more effective. Almost as if your not the only who saw, smelled, heard, experienced that thing.

So, I guess I’m back. At least for this entry.