This week marked my first month in Dar. Fittingly, in many ways, it was the most 'normal' feeling week I've had since arriving. I cooked dinners, washed my floors and even had my first house guests. I went to the movies and at long last, bought myself a fan that I haven't turned off since assembling.
But as weeks go, it was not an easy one.
In as much as my life is filled with fun and games, there are times when living on the other side of the world from everything that is familiar can be overwhelming. Sometimes all I want is a glass of malbec, a familiar face and one of those silky soft polyester blankets from Costco. Other times its to be able to ask for a latte that is made with 2% milk, extra-hot, in a re-useable cup without eliciting a vacant stare.
But most of all, in the moments when I succumb to the 'what am I doing here?' thoughts, I just want to understand. Anything. It is easy to take for granted the number of assumptions that you make just to get through an ordinary day.
For example, if you go for a run in the morning, most of us would assume that you could then shower, get dressed and go to work. However, if you are running in Dar (and you are me), you can certainly get your heart rate up, have a shower and eat some breakfast, but if you think you are going to wear a particular pre-selected outfit to work, you are wrong. Despite bathing and conducting my morning routine in a towel, I found myself standing on my bed, in front of my air conditioner spewing recycled air at me full blast, desperately trying to tug my dress over my hips. Why couldn't I do it? Well I'm sure that eating a lifetime's worth of naan over the last 4 months hasn't helped. But the primary reason was that I was still sweating profusely! In the end, not only was I late for work, I had to wear the equivalent of a moo moo!
I understand, this is a relatively small thing. But most of the things that I do fit into that category: get to work, meet some friends, buy some food. Without a handle on the language or culture that I live one, each has its attendant challenges and sometimes it can be exhausting. Preparing for house guests on Friday night I went to the grocery shop down the street for me. It is unlike any other grocery store I've ever been in. First, there is approximately one staff person for each customer that is in the store. This means that as you decide whether you want mango, passion fruit or 'secrets of the valley' juice, (yes, Ceres actually has named a juice that), at least one pair of eyes is following your every move. If you are bold enough to make a selection and put it in your basket, heaven forbid if you walk halfway down the aisle and decide that it is really a passion fruit kind of week. Why? Because the hands of that enterprising employee have already brought forward the next juice carton to preserve the uniformity of the row and presumably maintain the fragile equilibrium of the grocery store. Where can you put the mango juice now? The eyes will be able to tell if you put the unwanted mango juice at the front of the passion fruit row. Can you live with the passion fruit? Should you just buy both now? And so it goes... In the end, I managed to buy snacks and drinks but forgot cups. So the people I'm trying to convince to befriend me had to drink out of jars.
Contrast that with spending my Saturday on the beach playing a series of ridiculous and alcohol fulled games as part of an extremely well executed 'expat olympics'. At 3 in the morning I found myself in the Indian Ocean, dancing as the tide rolled back in, the faces of my newest friends illuminated by starlight. Its moments like those that make the possibilities of the world feel endless, home seem a bit closer and anxiety fraught visits to the grocery store worth the frustration.
But as weeks go, it was not an easy one.
In as much as my life is filled with fun and games, there are times when living on the other side of the world from everything that is familiar can be overwhelming. Sometimes all I want is a glass of malbec, a familiar face and one of those silky soft polyester blankets from Costco. Other times its to be able to ask for a latte that is made with 2% milk, extra-hot, in a re-useable cup without eliciting a vacant stare.
But most of all, in the moments when I succumb to the 'what am I doing here?' thoughts, I just want to understand. Anything. It is easy to take for granted the number of assumptions that you make just to get through an ordinary day.
For example, if you go for a run in the morning, most of us would assume that you could then shower, get dressed and go to work. However, if you are running in Dar (and you are me), you can certainly get your heart rate up, have a shower and eat some breakfast, but if you think you are going to wear a particular pre-selected outfit to work, you are wrong. Despite bathing and conducting my morning routine in a towel, I found myself standing on my bed, in front of my air conditioner spewing recycled air at me full blast, desperately trying to tug my dress over my hips. Why couldn't I do it? Well I'm sure that eating a lifetime's worth of naan over the last 4 months hasn't helped. But the primary reason was that I was still sweating profusely! In the end, not only was I late for work, I had to wear the equivalent of a moo moo!
I understand, this is a relatively small thing. But most of the things that I do fit into that category: get to work, meet some friends, buy some food. Without a handle on the language or culture that I live one, each has its attendant challenges and sometimes it can be exhausting. Preparing for house guests on Friday night I went to the grocery shop down the street for me. It is unlike any other grocery store I've ever been in. First, there is approximately one staff person for each customer that is in the store. This means that as you decide whether you want mango, passion fruit or 'secrets of the valley' juice, (yes, Ceres actually has named a juice that), at least one pair of eyes is following your every move. If you are bold enough to make a selection and put it in your basket, heaven forbid if you walk halfway down the aisle and decide that it is really a passion fruit kind of week. Why? Because the hands of that enterprising employee have already brought forward the next juice carton to preserve the uniformity of the row and presumably maintain the fragile equilibrium of the grocery store. Where can you put the mango juice now? The eyes will be able to tell if you put the unwanted mango juice at the front of the passion fruit row. Can you live with the passion fruit? Should you just buy both now? And so it goes... In the end, I managed to buy snacks and drinks but forgot cups. So the people I'm trying to convince to befriend me had to drink out of jars.
Contrast that with spending my Saturday on the beach playing a series of ridiculous and alcohol fulled games as part of an extremely well executed 'expat olympics'. At 3 in the morning I found myself in the Indian Ocean, dancing as the tide rolled back in, the faces of my newest friends illuminated by starlight. Its moments like those that make the possibilities of the world feel endless, home seem a bit closer and anxiety fraught visits to the grocery store worth the frustration.
2 comments:
This is so well written!
Oh my God, Chioma - I laughed so hard at the grocery store thing - it doesn't matter what country you're in - there's always a sales associate trying to "help" you!!! It seems like you're having a good time - we miss you!
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