September 1 2012
Week two of our new African adventure and the humidity is
killing me! I thought Conakry was humid…this beats it! The Gambia with its
proximity to the beach is absolutely breath taking the ocean is splendid with
huge waves and golden sand. Every time we go for walks on the beach, I remind
myself that this is one of the important deciding factors we accepted to come
to teach at BAES in the Gambia. The natural beauty of this place is stunning:
there are exotic birds everywhere and butterflies of all kinds. Nevertheless,
in all its natural beauty, it is humid and hot beyond belief….how humid is it?
In my classroom, when I slip on my eyeglasses, they fog up, the posters I put
on the wall fall off and the calendar pages curl up. It is extremely humid. I
will live through it and apparently this weather will end in October sometime.
Bring on October!
 |
Lost in the corn field on the school campus.
.....that's right we have an actual corn field on the school grounds! |
My new surroundings are beautiful but I am having difficulty
sleeping. I worry about my new Math program that I have to teach, worry about
the 9 year old rambunctious boys and at night I hear noises. I worry that I
still have hot flashes that keep me awake at night and that I have not slept 8
uninterrupted hours since July. The noises at night keep me awake…like… the old
donkey in the empty lot beside our home that brays loudly and the ugly buzzards
that walk on the roof and the small exotic birds that crash in our bedroom
windows in the early hours of the morning. Then there are the creaking noises…you
know those noises that make you think that someone is breaking into your
house…those noises that are unfamiliar and have no regular pattern to
them…those noises. I am laying awake
thinking someone is breaking into our house. Nothing makes sense at 4 in the
morning and the noises seem amplified. Someone is breaking into our house….now
I am sure of it!
We have a guard at our house, inside the protected walls of
our 2 floor house. 24 hours, a young guy sits in this tiny cabin with no door,
listening to his radio. I think what a boring job! But that is his job…security
position for the director and his wife. These guys are very polite, never ask
for anything…quite the opposite…they tell us that we should ask them for any
help that we need, whether it is to move boxes, wash the car or trim the bushes
in our tiny yard…that is the nature of their job. It takes some getting used to
having 24 hour surveillance. These same guys are the security guards at school,
working on a rotating basis from home to
school. These guys have families and a monthly salary of $150.
Yesterday I found out that they were huddled together in a
corner of the school grounds having a discussion to figure out when they would
eat. They had not been paid since June and they were trying to figure out this
dilemma. I was appalled, trying to wrap my brains around this notion of having
no food. It is such a basic need for human beings that it blows me away when I
find out that the people I see and greet every morning since my arrival are
debating whether they will find something to eat. It does not make any sense,
it does not make any sense.
So in my state of sleeplessness, during those moments of
tossing and turning, the idea of these 10 maintenance people not eating kept me
awake. The idea of not having anything
to eat would not let go of me. How could they be quietly talking about what
they would eat next? Could I help them I wondered. I can’t feed 10 people. How
stupid of me. Why would I want to make food for these 10 nice people that are struggling
at the moment? What else could I make to feed 10 people? I wish I could make a
meat dish because as they are going about their day, cutting down fallen
branches, sweeping the walkways, washing the classrooms, they are sweating just
as I am. They don’t worry about a Math program they have to teach or the
misbehaving boys that will arrive at my classroom door. They worry about eating
or whether they will be able to feed their families soon. Pay day will be at
the end of the week, and meanwhile they are not eating. It does not make any
sense, it does not make any sense.
So at 4:30 in the morning, I decide to pass to action still
debating whether my idea of making food is silly or not, to get out of bed and
prepare something to eat for the maintenance people. I decide to make soup, the
best soup that I can possibly make with all the fresh vegetables that I have in
my fridge. Tears roll down my face as I chop up the onions. Tears of hurt and
compassion and of lack of justice for all people, but onion tears too, just
plain old onion tears. I let the soup simmer while I write this blog. I reflect
back on the obsession that woke me up earlier, the obsession that someone was
breaking into my house. Now I know what was breaking in, it was not someone
trying to do me harm but someone giving me an important message. Someone was
breaking into my heart to coach me to think outside of myself. Someone was
breaking into my heart to remind me to pass to action no matter what the old
silly voices of ego were saying. Someone was breaking into my heart to ……….make
soup and help a few people today.
