Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Why must every day be such a freaking struggle? Oh, listen to me whine. It should be hard to let myself get away with that kind of self-indulgent whining here, when every day on the streets I pass begging children and disabled people sleeping on mats. But oh, I can always find something to complain about.
What gets me down here are very similar to the things that get me down at home. Feeling unproductive; feeling like a failure as a person; impatience with myself and others; exhaustion. I’m trying to remember that if I were home, I would probably feel frustrated and down about the same amount of time.
Argh! I get so irritated though. I get irritated when I have to wait a half hour before a taxi passes that isn’t already crammed full of people. I get irritated by my lack of independence, by the fact that here even if I want to make copies someone takes my document and copies it for me. Inside I’m screaming Let me make my own copies! as if it really mattered. I get irritated at certain male acquaintances who call me three times a week, insist that I come with them to visit their nieces, and never let me walk alone anywhere. I get irritated because the keyboards here are slow. I get irritated in general with the pace of life here, with not being able to write up my notes at night because it’s dark, with traffic jams that last three hours.
Enough of this! Suffice it to say that I have enough petty frustrations to surmise that God is trying to teach me something.
I have also been hanging on to a line I got from some poem, Rumi maybe? “God’s joy flows from unmarked box to unmarked box.” I’ve been trying to rejoice. For instance, I had some really good coffee (not even instant) at the mall yesterday (as I type that though, I remember how much the mall depressed me in general, how most malls depress me – you see why I am practically insane most of the time?)
But rejoicing: I'm wearing jeans today for the first time in a month! And I’m rejoicing when little kids run up to me shouting “Mzungu! Mzungu!” and when the boda-boda drivers laugh with surprise when I talk to them in Luganda. I'm rejoicing because I can see so many stars here and because Ugandans have a different set of exclamations than Americans. (Yesterday I learned the phrase "monkey tricks" - like, when a guy or girl is playing mindgames with a member of the opposite sex.
Well, I'm out of time so I'll end on a happy note however it may feel a bit forced. Excelsior!
What gets me down here are very similar to the things that get me down at home. Feeling unproductive; feeling like a failure as a person; impatience with myself and others; exhaustion. I’m trying to remember that if I were home, I would probably feel frustrated and down about the same amount of time.
Argh! I get so irritated though. I get irritated when I have to wait a half hour before a taxi passes that isn’t already crammed full of people. I get irritated by my lack of independence, by the fact that here even if I want to make copies someone takes my document and copies it for me. Inside I’m screaming Let me make my own copies! as if it really mattered. I get irritated at certain male acquaintances who call me three times a week, insist that I come with them to visit their nieces, and never let me walk alone anywhere. I get irritated because the keyboards here are slow. I get irritated in general with the pace of life here, with not being able to write up my notes at night because it’s dark, with traffic jams that last three hours.
Enough of this! Suffice it to say that I have enough petty frustrations to surmise that God is trying to teach me something.
I have also been hanging on to a line I got from some poem, Rumi maybe? “God’s joy flows from unmarked box to unmarked box.” I’ve been trying to rejoice. For instance, I had some really good coffee (not even instant) at the mall yesterday (as I type that though, I remember how much the mall depressed me in general, how most malls depress me – you see why I am practically insane most of the time?)
But rejoicing: I'm wearing jeans today for the first time in a month! And I’m rejoicing when little kids run up to me shouting “Mzungu! Mzungu!” and when the boda-boda drivers laugh with surprise when I talk to them in Luganda. I'm rejoicing because I can see so many stars here and because Ugandans have a different set of exclamations than Americans. (Yesterday I learned the phrase "monkey tricks" - like, when a guy or girl is playing mindgames with a member of the opposite sex.
Well, I'm out of time so I'll end on a happy note however it may feel a bit forced. Excelsior!
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