MIA
October 27, 2006
Sorry, I’ve been MIA lately.
When we went home, many people told me how much they liked the blog. I was told many times that I should keep it up. What do I do? I come home and pretty much stop writing altogether.
It’s not that I haven’t wanted to. Things just always seem to get in the way. Work is very challenging this year. That, coupled with the fact that our home internet works intermittently at best, has made life very busy indeed.
Even our home life is affected. We spend all day every day with each other. Sure, occasionally one of the three of us can slip out for some time alone, but mostly we are together. I know this sounds great on the surface, and it has been. It’s just that I long for somewhere else to go. The people I hang out with are not necessarily the ones I would choose to hang out with at that moment. It’s not like I can breeze down to the corner for a slice, or call an old friend to make a date, or wander off to some bar I’ve never been in before. My options are more limited than that.
There are times when life here is exactly what I need. Other times it’s a prison. I’m not sure I can ever explain the oddities of being completely cut off like this. There is no easy way out of this place. If there were an emergency at home, it would take at least a week to get there. On the one hand, I love that. While I am sure that I will meet many people who have traveled to Mali; I will meet very few who have been to Sadiola. Life here is peaceful and beautiful. On the other hand, that shit sucks! We’ve been to the quarry how many times? I don’t want to go to the quarry; I want to go to the Tieton! I want to hang around the campfire and jaw jack with people that know me. It’s completely different from hanging out in a club with people I know.
We participate; we sign up for every event. If there’s a party at the club, we’re there. It’s good to get out and do that. It is a completely safe environment. I know that wherever he is, Zachary is being taken care of. I know that if I leave my sunglasses at the club, they’ll be there when I come back for them a week later. For a family, these parties rock; Carrie and I can hang out and visit. Hell, we can even dance every now and then. There really is no place else to go.
The village is fun, but it’s a drive. It’s also a little ways out of our comfort zone. There is no way to blend in the village; we stick out. It’s not just an appearance thing; we’re the teachers. You know, the teachers; the ones who teach English in the village, the ones who eat at Togola’s! Toubab!
The communication issue is always prevalent as well. Many folks speak a weird bastardization of Bambara and French. They rattle off in a language that I can’t understand at all and then suddenly they pop up with a French word. I always try to follow them after that, but they drop off into this weird tongue that I can’t grasp. I have never been very good at learning languages. It requires way too much concentration. It’s difficult for me to focus that long. Eventually I just get tired and I want to speak English. I know that’s wrong and I have tried to repent…
Teaching English in the village is good for that. It’s great when I realize that I have to communicate with these folks so that they can understand what I want and I actually have to figure out how to say it in French. I can do it! I have a decent French vocabulary. Now, keep in mind that my accent sucks. This works in my favor when I don’t really know what I’m talking about. I can always pretend that I was actually saying that, but they didn’t understand me because my accent sucks. It has nothing to do with the fact that I didn’t actually say what I thought I said!
MJR
Sorry, I’ve been MIA lately.
When we went home, many people told me how much they liked the blog. I was told many times that I should keep it up. What do I do? I come home and pretty much stop writing altogether.
It’s not that I haven’t wanted to. Things just always seem to get in the way. Work is very challenging this year. That, coupled with the fact that our home internet works intermittently at best, has made life very busy indeed.
Even our home life is affected. We spend all day every day with each other. Sure, occasionally one of the three of us can slip out for some time alone, but mostly we are together. I know this sounds great on the surface, and it has been. It’s just that I long for somewhere else to go. The people I hang out with are not necessarily the ones I would choose to hang out with at that moment. It’s not like I can breeze down to the corner for a slice, or call an old friend to make a date, or wander off to some bar I’ve never been in before. My options are more limited than that.
There are times when life here is exactly what I need. Other times it’s a prison. I’m not sure I can ever explain the oddities of being completely cut off like this. There is no easy way out of this place. If there were an emergency at home, it would take at least a week to get there. On the one hand, I love that. While I am sure that I will meet many people who have traveled to Mali; I will meet very few who have been to Sadiola. Life here is peaceful and beautiful. On the other hand, that shit sucks! We’ve been to the quarry how many times? I don’t want to go to the quarry; I want to go to the Tieton! I want to hang around the campfire and jaw jack with people that know me. It’s completely different from hanging out in a club with people I know.
We participate; we sign up for every event. If there’s a party at the club, we’re there. It’s good to get out and do that. It is a completely safe environment. I know that wherever he is, Zachary is being taken care of. I know that if I leave my sunglasses at the club, they’ll be there when I come back for them a week later. For a family, these parties rock; Carrie and I can hang out and visit. Hell, we can even dance every now and then. There really is no place else to go.
The village is fun, but it’s a drive. It’s also a little ways out of our comfort zone. There is no way to blend in the village; we stick out. It’s not just an appearance thing; we’re the teachers. You know, the teachers; the ones who teach English in the village, the ones who eat at Togola’s! Toubab!
The communication issue is always prevalent as well. Many folks speak a weird bastardization of Bambara and French. They rattle off in a language that I can’t understand at all and then suddenly they pop up with a French word. I always try to follow them after that, but they drop off into this weird tongue that I can’t grasp. I have never been very good at learning languages. It requires way too much concentration. It’s difficult for me to focus that long. Eventually I just get tired and I want to speak English. I know that’s wrong and I have tried to repent…
Teaching English in the village is good for that. It’s great when I realize that I have to communicate with these folks so that they can understand what I want and I actually have to figure out how to say it in French. I can do it! I have a decent French vocabulary. Now, keep in mind that my accent sucks. This works in my favor when I don’t really know what I’m talking about. I can always pretend that I was actually saying that, but they didn’t understand me because my accent sucks. It has nothing to do with the fact that I didn’t actually say what I thought I said!
MJR
posted by Bronx to Timbuktu at 9:20 PM
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