life is like a box of chocolates

simply having a wonderful christmas time! my precious friend debbie sent me an email with that sentiment. of course it only warms one with christmas cheer if you sing it in an oh-so paul mccartney sort of way. as it is, i did have a simply wonderful christmas. may family was here with me! in africa! you must not have heard me. let me repeat myself.

my family came to uganda... it was fantastic. simply.

anecdote #1: here we go a cantata-ing
can-ta-ta (noun) a medium-length narrative or descriptive piece of music with vocal solos and usually a chorus and orchestra.

the christmas cantata in kampala was a 'must see' as we were told. and so we went to see it. and it really was lovely! beautifully descriptive music and expert vocal soloing and choral accompaniment. it was the most christmasy i'd felt the whole season. until some ridiculous woman got up and gave some shpeel about blessings and i threw up in my mouth a little. but the highlights for me would include the little hip hop dancers who did back flips off the stage and especially all the songs about snow. and white christmases. context people. context.

anecdote #2: candy and cocktails. i think those were their names...
my parents, being the beautifully generous people they are, had a christmas surprise in store for us all when they took the fam to spend christmas day and then some in a many-starred hotel in downtown kampala. hot showers. clean sheets. laundry service. food coming out your ears. i could not have imagined a more perfect christmas gift. and in the spirit of festive moods and foods, we went for christmas dinner in the hotel restaurant where we proceeded to stuff ourselves like a christmas turkey.

and then the entertainment appeared. for the next three nights, at every meal, deuce bigalow and his two lovely chinese entertainers would take the stage singing classic covers such as 'we've only just begun,' 'easy (like sunday morning),' and 'hips don't lie.' each night their shorts got a little shorter and by saturday they were in fishnets. merry christmas to all. and to all a good night...

anecdote #3: mzungu, mukono, matooke, matatu
annie: yeah, i really don't like matooke. it's just mushy banana.
family member 1: i'll take some matooke, waiter.
family member 2: i would too please.
annie: hmm...

one of the best aspects of my family as travelers is that we're all willing to try everything at least once. even if told not to. within the first two days the fam had been exposed to much of what life here is about. being shouted at. mzungu! mzungu! (white person! white person!). riding a matatu (a 15 passenger van used as a taxi that seats 23). eating matooke (mashed up unripe matooke bananas. see above dialogue). and walking the hot dusty hill from campus into mukono town (grocery shopping. pineapple purchasing. occasional obama debates). mother, father, sister, and sister all tried it. even if just for once.

and now they're not here any more. and i think i didn't realize how special it was to have them here until they weren't. bouncing on the hotel bed. sitting in traffic for two hours. making dinner. none of those things are quite as doable when you're doing them alone. especially the bed jumping. you just look crazy.

and now as the new year approaches i think even more often about them. last night my boss and his wife had me and phil up to their house for dinner. after delicious indian food and hot cookie pie we sat in the living room and i spilled all the contents of my head all over their coffee table. do you two feel like you're the people you thought you'd be when you were younger? do you think the values that define your personal economic lifestyle also define your integrity? what should my mind be most preoccupied with? part of me thinks i hit a wall of micah and joellen withdrawals and word vomited all over them for lack of a more familiar place to spew them. but they proved to be patient and wise and just what i needed in that moment.

poor phil sat quiet on the couch while i bogarted the conversation.

but i think what was most significant about the whole ordeal was the realization of where my mind has wandered. i don't know what it is i want. do i want to live in a place that makes me laugh? do i want to have a career i can be blushingly proud of? do i want to be not only family but also neighbors? i don't know! i just don't know much any more.

a sweet friend of mine sent me some fun mail several weeks ago. in it, she included chocolate kisses for the office staff. i hid a handful away in my desk drawer before putting the bag out on the conference table. don't judge me. now every once and while, i get an overwhelming email or i read a bbc report or hear a story or remember a nightmare and, before it has time to get me down or get me scared, i open up my desk drawer, peel back the foil paper and put a kiss in my mouth. sometimes i close my eyes. sometimes i wipe away tears. but i always feel better. the chocolate always melts. and if i ever feel like i know nothing else in the world, i do know this. the chocolate always melts. and there are so many chocolate kisses in my life. family. friends. sunny weather. low cost of living. organic vegetables. and unfortunately, many more. because as mark always says, the greatest burden for the american young person is the stress of choices. and so, even for all of those chocolates in my life, i'll stick with the ones in my desk drawer. the simple ones.

because sometimes you just need a kiss on the mouth.

1995 called, they want harrison ford back

1. the grasshoppers are leaving

2. immigration around here is like playing 'king's quest.' yes you may have your passport back but first, you must go to the bank in kampala, retrieve a receipt and bring it back to me in 24 hours! tomorrow i will send you for a basket of golden apples!

3. students are leaving in 2 weeks

4. as it turns out, you don't cry water. you actually cry a complex chemical makeup of protein hormones and a natural painkiller (who knew??). in addition, tears come from your eyes.

5. i'm out of coffee grounds

6. i fell in a hole. it left a scar on my foot

7. i miss nachos now. it's happening again!

8. my family will be here on the 17th... MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

9. new addition to my life's 'to do' list: see the northern lights

10. remember that time carissa had mono and i made her take 3 benedryll to sleep and then asked her to cut my hair? yeah... i do.

11. manchester united is number 3. behind chelsea and liverpool (??). but who cares. bama is UNDEFEATED!

12. yes nicole i did steal your mint oreo and no, i'm not sorry!

13. there is a spider the size of a 4 year old child in my dorm bathroom. he's been there for four days, not moving, in the same spot. we decided that he was dead. then we poked him and he ran up the wall. only a very specific kind of evil has that sort of patience.

14. it stopped raining

15. i've been eating samosas like my life depends on it

16. sophie doesn't swear

17. yesterday in staff meeting we scheduled our way through june. my weekends are planned. i know when i'm flying out. weird.

18. did anyone notice how it's december?

19. sometimes when i forget what it felt like to drive my car with the windows down, i listen to counting crows

20. people are shouting in the office right now and it's giving me a headache

21. mountain dew just came to east africa. UGANDA HAS NEVER BEEN MORE EXCITED!! do the dew...

22. i ate pizza by lake victoria last week. it was delicious and beautiful

23. there are few things i genuinely take very seriously. strawberry scented softlips chapstick is one of them

should i have gotten a business degree...

i think i figured out this week why i love wild places. the colorado rocky mountains. the sipi falls of uganda. i always seem to be drawn to these sorts of powerful places. and i think i can say why. landscapes like these move entirely independently of me. the wind in the trees, the rush of waterfalls and rivers, the speed of a storm coming over the mountains. the force of nature in wild places, big, strong, untouched places, moves and breathes with speed i could never catch. i could never control. it makes my finger tips tingle! it makes me want to curl up in its shadow and be small. be unseen in the presence of something so untamed. it makes me want to be a bit more invisible. which is unexpected considering my preoccupation with the conundrum of anonymity.

i've never quite sorted out what would be worse: going out in a blaze of glory while leaving a world of possibility behind, or dying alone where no one knows you are. there are days when my worst fear is being unimportant to any other life. those are the days i feel paralyzed by insignificance. but then there are days, more frequent it seems when surrounded by east africa, that i find peace and rare and precious rest in the prospect of being still and small. walking through life quietly. i don't want to be a big deal. i want to own a used bookstore.

and i'll tell you, there is no more powerful feeling of anonymity in the world than your five-foot five-inch self standing in the spray of a 175 foot waterfall.

there are lovely landscapes here. and this is a lovely home. and the weather around here has been really lovely too these days! it feels like fall all over the place. which is odd considering uganda doesn't really have a fall. or any variation of seasons to be honest. but for whatever reason, it's been breezy and cool. this has been nothing more than a nice change for pace for me these days. but... i remember when fall weather was a lot more than that.

i remember when breezes and bundling up made me think of leaves and pumpkins. which made me think of fireplaces and hot chocolate. which made me think of christmas trees, cooked turkeys and the gospel of luke. which made me think of no school for weeks! because i used to schedule my life by the seasons. i used to map out my days by holiday vacations. and if i try really hard, i can remember why. i can remember how three weeks at home in a christmas sweater could justify months at a school desk. i can remember how the three months between school years was actually what life was. september to may were just obstacles. obstacles in the way of what was actually important. ant hills and butterfly wings. ice cream trucks and bathing suits, sprinklers and bike rides, marigolds and fireworks. all the rest of it was just traffic lights.

but then traffic stopped. and now i'm in a world where there are no seasons. i don't spend my mondays waiting for friday. i don't wait at the window listening for the ice cream man. i don't spend my mornings and my lunch hours watching the clock. well... not always. my days aren't determined by the coming holiday. i don't get to count down to kid things anymore. my calendar is marked with pay days and paying debts. i still look forward to good things. to my family coming to africa (eek!). to the sundays i spend eating brunch with amos. to the days i finish a book and get to pick up an new one. but what kid measures their days by dog-eared pages in a novel?

i guess i'm not a kid.

but i guess i can try. i can eat ice cream. i can run through a sprinkler. i can be small. i can be still. i can be a bit more invisible. in the corner of my used bookstore.

theme songs for the road

i've always been really good at losing things. i've lost homework, car keys, the left shoe from a pair of red flats. i've always been waiting to grow out of it. surely someday i'll be organized enough to keep a pair of shoes together! but i guess i'm still waiting. since being here i've lost a cell phone, a pillow case, 5,000 shillings, and about 9 pounds. maybe i could have anticipated losing those things. but what i never did anticipate was feeling lost.

i've amassed alot of road maps in my time. moving state to state. driving place to place. florida. illinois. oklahoma. tennesse and everything in between. all of the above and maybe more are in folds and wrinkles in the back seat of my car. i've used them all. i've read them in the rain. i've held them open over the stearing wheel. i've torn them in the open-window wind. they have gotten me from place to place to place and back again. little red and blue lines telling which way to turn and what to stay away from. this being the case, there can't possibly be any man out there more suited for me than mister rand mcnally. my knight's armor shines with tail lights and turn signals and he saves his damsel from culdesacs and cops with bad attitudes.

road maps are great. but i have to ask, where are the maps for getting around life? what about those potholes and police officers? rand darling, how could you have failed me?

i feel like i've gotten lost somehow. or at least i've gotten stuck. i'm sitting at the most unexpected intersection of all. there are no red lights here. nothing has stopped me. instead, i've come to a crossroads of all green lights, all go signs, all endless options. where do you want to go? what do you want to do? who do you want to be? go. Go. GO!

but maybe i don't want to go any further. maybe i'm too tired to turn the engine over. maybe i'm done starting again. maybe dave matthews said it best when he said, 'turns out it's not where but who you're with that really matters.' in which case... where don't i go?

more green lights. more people in more places. all of us dissolving like sugar cubes in warm water. slowly separating away in this direction and that, sweetening our surroundings but doing it with one less grain of sugar at our side. sugar cubes. how despairing. wouldn't we rather be like licorice? all twisted together, all sweet and all insoluble.

insoluble. maybe that's what i want my super power to be.

in the mean time i'll just cut all my hair off and get a pedicure...

when my khaki pants used to fit

i moved to africa in the month of july
i was eating bowls of rice by 7:00 am
and got used to it real quick

rice and beans
water to drink
lunch at 2 pm

i started walking to get around town
my shoes got covered in red dirt
my thighs got a good work out

up the hill
down the hill
back and forth through town

i do my laundry on the weekends
scrubbing by hand in a bucket
hanging them out to dry

pull and stretch
wring them out again
leave them on the line

i used to be meticulous about style
before i left home in july
that was when my khaki pants still fit

stone soup and other recipes

i found ants in my sugar bowl and a gecko in my t-shirt. i swept them both away and went about my business. i'm not often thrown by the little african quirks of the day around here. i eat rice three times a day, go without dairy, do my laundry in a bucket, and wake up the next day and do it all again. no big thing. but today i had a craving. today i looked at the clock, saw that it was nearly one, and had a vision. i saw a sandwich. i saw a sandwich of honey wheat whole grain bread. it was spread with trader joe's red pepper humus and stacked with green peppers, alfalfa sprouts, tomato, snow peas and avocado. it sat on a little ceramic plate with a cold clausen pickle next to it and a tall glass of 2% milk. when i woke from my vision i was sitting in the office with a bread roll and an empty coffee mug. i was real sad.

question: how does someone keep eating rice and pumpkin over and over everyday without their taste buds and tummy atrophying?
answer: because on certain mondays in october, they get a letter in the mail full of love and fruit snacks that taste like heaven going down and make all the rest of it worth swallowing.

i'm a lucky girl. with love and fruit snacks and sleep overs and skype dates and good morning coffee and even better emails that together make all the rest of it worth swallowing.

yum yum.

i hoped it would be easy to build

if you were the kind of person who wore a seat belt, you wouldn't be living in Africa in the first place.

deborah scroggins said that in her book 'emma's war.' when i first read it, i laughed. i laughed like a person who feels like they have a right to laugh at that. yeah, i know what you mean. and then i re-read the quote. i read how it began:

for whites, it's part of the mind-set: if you were the kind of person who wore a seat belt, you wouldn't be living in Africa in the first place.

for whites. which i am. and no, i don't wear my seat belt. but maybe i should. and tell me, what about Africa makes it more necessary to wear a seat belt than the next place? if a car crashes on a dirt road it would kill me just as surely as on a paved one. a gun would go off just as well in a banana field as it would in an unlit parking lot. and do just as much damage. the moon over me is the same moon over you. even though i could swear it's 10 times bigger here. but it's not. it's the same moon. in the same sky. over the same planet. all 6,602,224,175 of us are standing on the same round planet. it's not so big after all. we're not so different. people are people wherever you go. for better or worse, we all have failings. but bigger than all of it, we also all have feats.

the mountain we scaled in colorado. the piano we learned to master. the foreign language we fluently speak. the sport we dominate. the paintbrush between our fingers. our voice that gets a standing ovation. or maybe it's the courage to paint our toenails pink. the decision to shave our head. the joke that made our boss laugh. for some of us, it's feat enough that we got out of bed this morning.

today i wore navy pants with a black shirt. maybe that's the kind of person it takes to live in Africa. a person who puts on whatever's clean. or maybe that's just what it takes to make it through the day sometimes, wherever you are. mismatched clothes. spilled coffee. unexplainable headaches. the smell of honeysuckle outside your window. all those human things. all those people things. they happen to all people. in all places. which Africa is. just another place. where i live. where i work. and as it turns out, it's chock full of people i love.

i just realized i don't know where to go with this now. most of my entries these days have had a common thread. life. living it. this time i tried to think of something funny to write. like the dragon fly that floated into the office and spent all afternoon on the picture of my parents. or the day that i was greeted with, good morning, ann. you look exhausted. even wearing yellow. good times. but i think i'll just tell those stories later. today i'd rather tell this story:

little girl: the shop across the street is where my uncle sells. we sell from shops here.
marsha: i see! and what's that big pile?
little girl: that's where they make bricks. we make our own bricks here.
marsha: i know. i like that they're working by lamp light.
little girl: yes. we use paraffin here.
marsha: look! look at the stars. aren't they beautiful?!
little girl: yes. we have stars here. do they have stars in your world?

we have stars. we have stripes. we have banks and buses and brick layers. we have what they have. we even have seat belts. and some of us even wear them.