Mothers' Day morning and I realize that I am grateful to be a mother. Grateful because of who I have become thanks to having children. I certainly remember when my Nadine was born. I never knew that I could have feelings of love so deep in me that they would rock me to my very core. Having a child did that to me. Then there was Patrick, a son to complete our family. Again my love just grew even more…what, I thought to myself, I can have room for two in my heart? Yes and then love grew stronger. I understood why when I was a kid and asked my Mom : who do you love best, is it me ? I love all of 7 of you equally. She would always give the same answer, to me and to my siblings. Now I understand why when you bring children in the world, you bring love to your world and there is no end to that.
The next thought that came to me was that it surely would be nice to go have Mother’s Day brunch at Ricky’s Restaurant in Coquitlam Mall. Raymond and I found this little, unassuming diner last year and the food is terrific! What I would give to be there right now, I sighed. There is nowhere in Conakry where we can eat a nice breakfast, you know the cheese omelets-toast- hash browns-sausages and bacon kind of breakfast. Sigh again ! So I decided to stop the self-pity and whining and whip up a cheese omelet while Raymond was washing dishes (he is the live dishwasher). It was the best alternative to brunch at Rickys’ and actually was a pretty nice way to start my Sunday.
Conakry is in between seasons right now. The hot dry season with the harmattan cycle has been interspersed with a few downpours. Yes! We have had 3 rainstorms in the last 2 weeks…beautiful, heaven sent rain! Rain cleans the air and leaves it with that fresh ozone smell and the dust settles, the trees are greener and the clouds disperse to show the blue sky again. Rain is really a magic ingredient in Mother Earth’s bosom. The mango trees are abundant with fruit, and so much that it looks like the branches will snap at any moment. Gorgeous, red, yellow, orange fruit rich with flavour, drop from the trees in our school yard. Merchants stack small pyramids of mangoes along the roads and the fruits look like little soldiers lined up in their sunshine-colored coats. People here call these first rains the mango rains and understandably so.
I am also in between in my work place since my teaching assignment is to teach Middle School. That is a tough place to be for me. These kids have so much energy that if I could bottle their energy, I would become an instant millionaire. The peaks in teen hormones are visible when I hear the giggling spasms from around the building, the incessant chatter and the running from one place to another. The boys’ feet are bigger than the rest of their bodies and their clumsiness knocks over anything or anyone that happens to be in the way. Should I mention body odor too? Whew!! My middle age body tires by noon and the hot flashes increase as my patience decreases. Menopausal woman teaching Middle School: how intense can that be!
I am at the in between stage of my life and realize that I do not have the motivation, patience and energy I had when I was a sweet, young thing of a teacher. Gone are the days when I would sign up for night courses in order to learn how to use my new sewing toy, a serger. That was after a full day of teaching, doing homework with my kids, do the supper then bed routine and then race off to East Vancouver, an hour’s drive away! Was I crazy? No, I was young and energetic!
Living in Guinee now for 9 months, Raymond and I have met many interesting expats. We have met people working for big oil companies and embassies, who have drivers, a huge villa with cooks, gardeners and guards, generous expense accounts, bonus vacations and a generous hardship post salary. On the other hand we have met modern day missionaries, single women and families who have come to Guinee sponsored by churches back in the US or Canada. They live with little or no electricity or air condition, at times, no running water, no refrigerators and live as simply as they can. One has a solar panel system that runs her small fridge and she loves the way it works. We admire them.
On the other hand, we have a modest apartment with handed down furniture and bare walls. We have electricity 24/7 (albeit several outages every evening…), running water, a balcony and a spacious dwelling. It is comfortable and modest. I would not be able to live like my Guinean neighbours in shanty dwellings and yet my conscience would bother me if I lived in luxury. We have found a middle ground that suits us. We both love our shower and our coffee in the morning and would not be happy campers without a few basics, so our lifestyle here is in between rich and poor.
I phoned maman in Winnipeg on Mother’s Day and woke her up. The call woke up my papa also and he had to immediately get up, take his shower and get dressed. He is at this stage of his illness where he perseverates on certain routines, has to do what he needs to do and then he can settle somewhat and becomes calmer. Maman and I talk about everything and nothing. I complain about my tough life in Africa, how difficult it is, though as I write this I don’t know exactly what is difficult. Then my attention turns to her as she whispers that papa is in the shower. We can talk, really talk now that he is not within earshot. I listen while she tells me just a few things about her life and relates her daily life living with my father. I tell her that she is brave, heroic and strong. I admire her faith, acceptance and deep inner strength. She says: “He’s finished his shower now. I’ll have to go. He needs me now.” After we say good-bye, my mom’s presence is still with me. My mom’s acceptance of her life stays with me. If she can accept her present situation then I certainly can accept my life here. Even if my life in Guinee is tough and I dearly miss my Canadian lifestyle, my life is easy compared to the challenging life my maman has. My maman has accepted her situation and her life is much more difficult than mine. I CHOSE to come and live in Africa. I made the decision a year ago to come to Conakry, Guinee, West Africa. She did not choose to live with a husband with Alzheimers.
