Tomorrow is another day

A lazy day here is different from one at home. Because you have the sense that whatever you did or didn’t do, it was enough. It was enough to just live, to feel the sweat sticking the clothes to your body and feel the heat of the sun envelope you like a fire does burning embers. It was enough to step outside and leisurely make your way down the dirt road to greet the neighbors, to buy a yam and some oranges. Of course you may have slept too much and missed out on a more interesting excursion, but there’s always tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day, as they say. Another chance to muster the energy to go farther or to live a little more vivaciously.

I think I work too hard at trying to understand this place and these people, to narrow them down into a multi-colored cube that perfectly fits together and carries a message for me. In a way I guess I am studying them for answers, because I feel like a lot of the time, they are closer to knowing, even without knowing it, the secret to happiness. For many it is about surviving, just making it through until dusk falls, when they can finally rest and thank God that it looks like, in fact, there will be a tomorrow. I have noticed that they don’t resist what comes along. They don’t beat themselves up for not accomplishing enough or worry about manipulating their futures. When there is less to choose from, you tend to accept what you have and agonize no further.

Becky jokes that in her next life, she’ll be born “aburochiray”, overseas. If she hears African voices telling the mother to push it out, she’ll stay inside. But if she hears sweet white voices encouraging her that “ohhh you’re almost there, push!” then she will pop right out.

I wonder if that means she does think about another world that is possible for her, beyond the one in which she’s been struggling. From the attention I receive almost every minute I’m walking around town, I know it is a common dream to actually experience the luscious and bountiful lands abroad, rather than pine after them through a TV screen. For the majority, though, that would only happen if they were given a free ride, i.e. won the heart of an obruni.

Though it may seem sad, this is the truth: we are where we are for a reason, and we can never deny our roots. But how is it fair that I am able to move back and forth somewhat freely between their world and mine, yet they are so stuck? Maybe this wouldn’t bother me if I believed more strongly in reincarnation, to the point where I was fully satisfied because I would know there is always a Round Two (or 2,000) and we are all just taking turns, trading places. Though it is not part of their religion, people here definitely seem to have faith in this. Perhaps this is why they are so unbelievably hospitable.

In fact, just this morning I was lugging my computer to work so that afterward I could write home and say I wanted to come back early (life at Becky’s has been tough and my friends have been too busy) but kindness intervened. I butted into a conversation with the nurses and asked how much a single room costs near the hospital. Immediately they were all offering up their homes. One even told me I could stay with her sister who is a very quiet single woman living alone in a clean, safe neighborhood by the ocean, and proceeded to drive me there to see it! The sister is called Essie and doesn’t speak much English, but her place is extremely nice and she even has a washing machine! Her neighbor is a pastor so he would watch over us and probably not turn out to be that creepy (unless god really wants to ruin any hope of making me at all Christian). I can stay as long or as little as I want, and it’s only a short ride away from work and the university!

So, I guess this means there is probably something amazing in store, if I would only have the patience. And fortunately, these wonderful co-workers of mine have made that easier for me. Now I just have to tell Becky and the family that I won’t be coming home to eat banku every night... But I think she would agree it is best for all our interactions to be positive, rather than wearing, and more important that I am happy everyday, rather than just toughing it out.

There were a lot of signs today that I should change my attitude and be more open to change. On my way out of the house this morning, I took a copy of The Alchemist to give to Charity, the girl down the street, but I caught a ride before I reached her, so I ended up reading it until I reached my stop. Its message is that of most every good book-- something along the lines of believing in fate, destiny, realizing our personal potential, and trusting in a higher power or universal force to rescue you when you are about to give up. It reminded me that "the darkest hour of night comes just before the dawn", and that I should look for signs of hope in the right direction. And as it turned out, my day definitely took an unexpected turn! 


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