Testament

The end of the third week of May saw an invitation for a field mission: an extended monitoring and evaluation effort in a yellow zone - my first ever.

Did I want to go?

In the Trenches

There are some things I would like to explain.  But rarely get the chance to.  In person, I usually can't find the words, or am interrupted, or really don't care enough to argue about it - since a lot of our beliefs are subconsciously planted early and drive our attitudes and behaviours, and hearing from someone who confidently shares an opinion contrary to yours makes your homunculus metaphorically dig trenches and open fire.

I know because sometimes I'm in the trenches.

These blogposts are the peace accords: they make sense to the sovereign me, and help me come to terms with the crazies armed with uninformed opinions on the other end.

Fidelius

My best conversations are when my partners have no other choice, nowhere to hide.

This sounds frightening; baring your soul always is.  Which is why we choose to be in large parties rather rather than quiet with each other, why we choose alcohol and smoke rather than a bright dinner table, why we'd rather flirt with love than commit to it. 

Or maybe I'm defending my own introverted agenda. 

Herd Life

After a month of fighting a near-deadly peanut butter craving, I finally gave in on Friday.  As I'm about as impulsive as a slug, this mainly involved mental capitulation to my inner Pandora.  I would buy peanut butter that very day, go home, and then decide whether I wanted to eat it defiantly in front of Butters or hide in my room like any self-respecting addict.

Herd Life - Appendix A

The concert, involving songs in English, French, and Swahili, started out well enough.  Though no lyrics were projected (the powerpoint seemed to alternate between the theme – Genesis 17:1 – and fleeting images of cats bearing what had to be a subliminal message), I could keep up because the worship seemed to involve a lot of frenzied repetition.  Then we heard a short sermon regarding a verse in Zechariah that said we were the prunelle of God's eye.  I assumed it meant apple, but I'd never heard that word before – maybe it meant iris.  So while the pastor revelled in trilling that word over and over again, I was stuck on the image of someone poking God in the eye because I was half deaf from the concert anyway. 

The Nerve

Today, I'm going to rant.

I know - you're thinking, But you're normally so very sweet!

Well.  Hell hath no fury like a scornful woman.  Or something.

During the retreat in Bujumbura, I learned about the incidence of sexually transmitted points in school.  This refers to the increasing of a grade in exchange for sexual favours.  While I don't deny that this can and does happen elsewhere, I have experienced a singular shift in values here and I don't quite know how to put it into words. 

Life, the Universe, and Everything

A chubby, short old man ran after me on the way home after church to say I was pretty and ask if I was married.

This is my life.

I realise that I look old for my age and that I should not have 5-star standards.  However, if he is shorter than me and in possession of more than one chin and more grey hair than black, the only thing he has that I want is confidence.

BFG asked why I hadn't gotten married in the month he and his wife had been away.  I could choose, he said, between having babies and getting married - but I had to get on it right away.

I happily surveyed my (very) extended family from behind a mound of store-bought Indian food and and reflected that it was a good thing all these people had clearance to joke about my life; it would be a waste to have to upend my plate over his head.

This is my very small universe.