Facing the Dreaded Task

Well, today I had a lovely breakfast with a friend from long ago. It was delightful to catch up. I don't think I'd seen Lorinda since we had dinner at their house shortly after Colin was born. He was born in 1993. Yikes! Really? Allow me to recommend having breakfast with an old friend. It was a pleasure.

After breakfast I had a list of errands to face. These days I'm chauffeured around by my mom or dad. Still not allowed to drive, you see, and they are SO graciously helping me accomplish my do-list before departure next Tuesday.

But guess what the first errand of the day was. According to my own instructions, it was "Buy a new bathing suit." Noooooooooo!

Buying a new bathing suit is not a task that faint hearted women should face. Men are TOTALLY different. I know this because I have 4 of them in my life and they couldn't care less what they swim in. They swim in the shorts they have on, their boxers, torn and faded board shorts from a hundred years ago, or, most favorite of all, nothing. Left to their own devices, they would definitely swim in nothing. Dorks.

(Maybe I'm just jealous.)

Here's the thing: I bought a new suit today and it was pretty much a painless event. I was SHOCKED.

Was it painless because I just look so great in a swimsuit? Oh, no. Nothing could be further from the truth. I look, pretty much, DREADFUL in a bathing suit. Especially today. Due to having 2 types of skin cancer cells removed from my face a couple of years ago, I've kept my body out of the sun so my legs are white, white, white. And soft. Yes. I'd love to be able to blame it on having exercise severely restricted for the past four weeks since surgery but, really, they were soft going in. My doctor told me very sternly that my abdominal muscles were on vacation for 6 weeks after the event but the real truth is that they've ALWAYS been on vacation. So, there you go. Whatever! I'll try to be better. Tomorrow, maybe. Or some time. Right now I still have 2 weeks of vacation time left.

Anyway, I took 5 suits into the changing room, narrowed it down to 2 and then bought one. It was a close call between the final 2 but I decided that the one wasn't $40 cuter than the other. Best stick to the less expensive one. And I don't really know why it was painless today. I just looked at myself and said, "Yea, fine. This is cute. Great. Done!"

Here's what I think... I'm 48 and I know a thing or two. I know I'm not the sum total of my parts or the presentation of same. I know life is good and precious and terribly, terribly fragile. I know that I sat with a girlfriend today and we talked about things that matter to us. My spirit and soul were filled by our conversation. Our meeting came in a string of days of beautiful visits with other precious women in my life; women who hold me in their hearts and allow me to be myself there.

My conclusion is this... Meaningful connections restore proper perspective. With heart all full, I understand what it really means to feel fabulous.

Bless you, ladies. You know who you are.

Little Rays of Hope

Mr. Ndetu is our night guard. I like him a whole lot.

I like him a whole lot and wish, for his sake, that he had a better job than guarding our house at night.

That's how security works in many parts of Africa. There is no 911 or 999 to call and security is the responsibility of the private citizen. We hire Mr. Ndetu. He arrives on his bicycle to our house at about 5:30 p.m. and he leaves again next morning some time between 5:30 and 6:00 a.m.

During the hours between, he hangs out. He visits with Byron if Byron is puttering in the veggie garden or in the work-shop. He helps us feed the dogs and rabbits and is generally a pleasant, if very subtle, presence. He brings his pack dinner and every night, before I go to bed, I make him a thermos of chai. I'm sure he dozes off from time to time. He also tells the dogs to stop harassing hedgehogs.

Ndetu takes his work seriously. When Byron and the kids were away and I was home alone, I got a bad flu that knocked me out. He knew I was sick and so he didn't leave in the morning till he saw that I was up, even though that was about 3 hours later than when he would have normally headed for home.

"Just wanted to know that you were alright," he told me.

Ndetu's daughter just passed her exams and has been admitted to secondary school. Surprised, he went to see her teachers. A pass is, truly, no small accomplishment and her teachers shocked him further with the news that she passed easily. She's a strong student. He just didn't know it.

Secondary school will cost him. There are all manner of hidden fees that seem small to us, but are overwhelming to a family like Ndetu's.

Byron asked Ndetu if he wanted this for his daughter. We know that Ndetu's own father did not sent him to school because someone needed to herd the cattle. He has told Byron that, sadly, herding didn't take him very far in life. The cows are gone now and here he is, staying up all night to make a living.

"I'm a good worker, " he said.

"People like me. I could have a much better job in life if I could read and write. Yes, I want this for her."

Together, they worked out a way to make it happen.

"You're giving your daughter what your father couldn't give you," Byron told him.

"You're a good dad."

So much struggle in Africa.

One young girl I know is taking a step forward.

Little rays of hope for tomorrow.

Africa is Good for Me

I'm back home after my medical-run to the big, bad city of Nairobi.

As the shuttle chugged through the traffic-choked streets, I found myself thinking about how much I don't like that town. But I had a little change of heart once I was on foot. Walking along the busy streets, I greeted street vendors and chatted with ladies running fruit stands. I noticed how pretty the trees looked in their blossomy veils, and how white the clouds were against the bright blue sky.

Yea, I think Africa is better when you're out of the car.

The lady at Nairobi Hospital (where both Trevor and Heather were born) who did the mammogram said something very interesting during our time together. The fibroid and cyst concerns that I have experienced in the past were not present.

"Those issues will have cleared up because you've moved back to Africa," she said.

I must have looked at her a little quizzically because she elaborated.

"You'll have left a lot of stress behind in the West. The stress and pace there make people eat chocolate and drink coffee to cope. Here, the stress and chocolates are less and so you've cleared up."

She's right, you know. It's not that life is easy in Africa. It is challenging in many ways on many levels and the issues that weigh upon this continent are huge, gnarly and complicated. But we don't keep a manic schedule and we eat simpler, cleaner, fresher foods.

I'm happy about that.

Photo by Jesse Borden

Long Day's Journey...

Today I catch the bus at 8am and travel 5 hours to Nairobi, Kenya. I will cross a border, spend hours on the road, be away from my family for 2 days and sleep in a foreign country just so I can have a normal check-up with the OB/Gyn. Brother!

I'll be back on Tuesday night. I'm mostly concerned about getting to the hospital in time today for a mammogram and then from my appointment tomorrow to the bus in time to get home (and the fact that I don't see how lunch will fit into tomorrow's schedule. You know how I get when I don't eat--Grumpola! I need to go pack snacks.)

On a happier note, Heather was at a costume party this last weekend and my singing in the car on Friday night inspired her :-)

Here's Pipi...