November 18, 2012

• Bottom Line

  This wasn’t how this time was supposed to be. I was supposed to leave everything and be in the middle of nowhere for a month. I’ve been planning for months, I’ve had the idea for years. It is hard to get away.

  But I find myself standing on the side of the road again, waiting for a bus or Kombe to take me to the International school. I am wearing my hand washed clothes, but I still haven’t managed to make them smell good. (Marlene can stand next to me and wash clothes, and hers will smell good and mine still smell just a little bit…off).

  The family has been more than perfect. And they are better off than I thought—thank goodness we have running water and electricity. The other things don’t really matter if you have that. And having a mom who cooks and cleans and ‘moms’ you—well, it makes anyone feel rich. And the view…wow.

  

  The romantic part of the idea was removed when I realized I would have to come back into town every day to teach English. And back to my apartment at least once a week to arrange things for people, and get supplies. I forgot how many SUPPLIES you need to teach so many different kinds of classes for so many different children. And the trash dump Living Stones on the weekend, and singing in a wedding, and birthday parties…it is always something.

  Now it is the thought of all the things I need to get done before I return to the United States. Pressing on me. I am constantly making lists. How is this living in the middle of nowhere? So as a project in itself, I failed miserably. But as living life—it has been a pretty fantastic couple of weeks. And if the goal was to learn, I succeeded. The lessons just looked a little different than I thought.

  I have lived much simpler this month. No makeup or jewelry. The same five outfits. Only. One pair of sandals. Always. I wash my own clothes by hand. I use only public transportation. I have limited access to slow internet. Can I do it? Yes.

  Can I dress up and put on lipstick and straighten my hair every day?  Yes. I have done that too. And ridden in fancy cars and yachts and eaten at the nicest places. Contrast: July in Hong Kong, October in rural Brazil. Both are me.

  

  Bottom line is this: the thing about being poor is, everything takes extra grace. But the amazing thing about it is that the grace you need is always there—the exact amount you need. I guess that is what makes us all equal in all of the inequalities: the grace we need is always there.

   

  • 12:19 pm
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