All posts tagged: expat

on the patiences

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Question: if good things come to those who wait, does patience come as well? A new variety of patience has made itself known during the process of Growing Up. It’s distinct from Waiting Patience, as in waiting in line, waiting for dessert, waiting for a promotion, or waiting for things to come together. I call it Watching Patience, and it’s much messier and more confusing, although possibly more rewarding. It’s the patience that accompanies growth and change when they take months, years, even decades. Waiting Patience has a discernible end; Watching Patience discerns little in advance, only you imagine you’ll recognize the fruits of the process when you see them. The most striking difference between these two Patiences is the way they proceed. With Waiting Patience, you can break down the steps and be confident in your progress. Each bite of vegetables brings me closer to dessert… each step forward brings me closer to completing a marathon… each course brings me closer to a degree, and so on. But Watching Patience requires a near-impossible level …

on kenya (ii)

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Headed down into the Great Rift Valley, the view is hard to grasp; it’s the kind of view that tells stories upon stories, but above all the story of your own smallness. Because in all your perfection, you’re nothing compared to its vastness. I love those kinds of views–they are both astonishing and soothing, and they give explicit directive not to take life so seriously, considering the long view of things. We entered the valley at Hell’s Gate, rumbling through shrubby plains lined by enormous, wind-blown cliffs. The animals of my childhood storybooks traipsed about, and I pointed in glee again and again. Below, bottom right, there is a small brown bump headed over that low fold in the landscape. It could be anything; it is a warthog (my very first). Hell’s Gate is nothing if not hike-worthy, and we headed into The Gorge, led by a young Maasai tour guide named Richard who was lovely, and patient, and a fantastic contrast to the weathered surroundings in his bright red cloth. we made it all the way to The …

on kenya (i)

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On Mt. Kenya, more specifically; 3 hours north of Nairobi, many miles into the sky. It was surreal, full of contradictions, and the absolute opposite of dusty, red, sweltering Bamako. It was cold, and foggy, and drizzly, and lush, beautiful, and green. We were lost among the trees, and it was wonderful. There were horses grazing freely, along with cows, dogs, and elephants… There were wildflowers blooming through the mist… And constant conversation between remarkable people at this conference among the clouds. There was zebra print and muesli, and crackling fires for the chilly evenings. There was Tusker beer and old stone hideouts waiting for visitors. There were grand verandas, courgette soup for 40, and elephant skulls guarding doorways. There were wet treks to meetings, and steaming hot chocolate, and the best breakfast for miles… And stunning views of mountaintops shrouded in clouds, tucked behind layers upon layers of leaves. Castle Forest Lodge Mt. Kenya, Kenya castleforestlodge.com

on lately

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Rounds (and rounds) of pizzas … Seed deliveries to far-off villages with names like Sanambele, Tiakadougou-Dialakoro, and Sanankoro-Djitoumou. We have cats and data, and data and cats; trainings, plantings, hard work, and lots of hope in bare fields, and sometimes in bare feet.

before the rains

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Lately, the chickens hang upside-down clucking into a suffocating wind. Cattle mutiny on the bridges. Rams roll through town, bound at hoof and horn like criminals. Wild dogs run backwards through the streets, chasing little boys, tails first. Curtains of dust hang heavy, draping leaves and eyelids and veiling moon from sun. Heads sit low under trees swollen with ripe fruit. They swarmed like bees–have you seen bees swarm on honeycomb? They swarmed– ripping down the side of the road. Pressing forward, closer, filling every gap with fingers and eyes: tonight, they burned a thief. Photo of Bamako’s 3rd bridge over the Niger River, at dusk.