Rainy Days

As I walked out of my apartment this morning, I was greeted with pouring rain. Thankfully I was armed with my umbrella but the torrential downpour and rivers forming in the street indicated that it wasn't going to be sufficient. Many thoughts went through my head. My first instinct was to turn around, go back upstairs, crawl into bed and wait for the rain to subside. I even put down my bags and contemplated how I could achieve that fanciful idea. I then snapped out of it and realized I am no longer in Africa. I would have to suck it up and face the rain. My boss wouldn't really understand why I was late to work only due to rain. All of a sudden a flash back of my work in Congo came flooding back in.

Due to the poor infrastructure and transportation system in Congo, people don’t go to work during the rain or do anything for that matter. Schools aren't in session. The market is empty. Life stops. It is just an understanding that rain = no movement. At the time, it was quite frustrating. Those of us who grew up in cultures and countries where you go to work regardless of the weather, this African concept was hard to grasp. You put on your shoes, grab your umbrella and face the rain. It is as simple as that. I must admit that I wasn't very gracious to my African colleagues when it rained. My staff would show up several hours late and it felt as though people used the rain as an excuse to get out of work.

One of my most embarrassing and regretful moments in Congo took place as a result of the rain. Where I was working, my staff was notorious for being late even on a good, sunny day. I was under a significant amount of pressure with a lot of work to do. The two ladies reporting directly under me were late one rainy morning. Out of complete frustration, I lashed out. I questioned them why they weren't on time. I challenged the fact that it wasn't raining that hard. I completely lost my cool.

One lady was pregnant and told me that she was experiencing morning sickness all the way to the office. I didn't even listen to her. Back then, I blamed it on my mediocre French skills but now I think that I was probably wrapped up in my tirade I didn't bother listening. The other lady was late for some other reason that I can’t remember. Her performance was low, she had a major attitude problem and I took this silly incident as my opportunity to unleash my frustration. I upset her so greatly that she came to me a few hours later and asked for the rest of the day off. The following day, she told me that she wanted to resign. In the end she didn't resign but I realized just how far I had gone with my reaction.

It is really interesting how life sometimes comes back full circle. This morning I grudgingly put on my shoes, grabbed my umbrella and sucked it up. I stepped out of my apartment door into a massive puddle. I resented the fact that I had to get the train instead of owning a car that would keep me dry. No one took pity on me as a pedestrian – they flew through the puddles splashing me and cut me off at the cross walk. All the while one word ran through my head: “touché.”

I finally arrived at the office, wet. It took several hours for my jeans and shoes to dry out. And while it was doing so, I frequently went back and forth to this reflection. Unfortunately I can’t go back and change that interaction where I completely lost it but now, two years later, I am all in favor of the idea that we shouldn't come to work if it is raining.

Feeding Strangers

“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” 

― J.R.R. Tolkien

There is something that I have learned in my short 27years of life and that is the unexpected is usually more fun, and if not more fun, definitely memorable which is then special. Over the last few years I have been a bit more daring trying to create distinct memories, like the time I ate ox testicles in Kenya. I didn't do it because I really wanted to eat testicles. I tried it for the sake of a shared experience with my friends, one that no one else can share. At the time I wasn't sure if it was worth it purely for the sake of an experience but now I will never forget the time I ate ox balls in Nairobi. 

About a month ago, my workplace asked if anyone was willing to host some visitors at their homes for dinner. Since I am quite new, I was guaranteed to not know anyone. Despite that fact, I agreed. Why not? It's one night of cooking a little extra food, barrow my sister's hostess hat and meet some (hopefully) cool new people. Regardless, I didn't know what to expect. All I knew were their names and where they lived. 

In addition to creating cool memories, I also saw it as a chance to give back. I have traveled in many different countries and the hospitality I received made all the difference on many occasions changing my opinion of a certain culture or time in space. I have been fed anything from rice and beans, fish heads, a glass full of pure honey and other unrecognizable substances. 

After two weeks of agonizing on what to serve, I finally pulled it together and made it happen. Now with food allergies, preferences and cultural taste buds in the mix, making  a meal isn't an easy feat despite how glamorous my sister makes it look. I suppose there is beauty in inviting someone over unexpectedly, you don't have time to worry about all of those silly things.

The day finally arrived and we met. They were a bit older than I was expecting, but nonetheless kind and interesting. They had some pretty cool stories and life experiences. We shared an evening together and if I hadn't agreed, would have missed out. My memory of that evening would have been jumbled together with the others just like it spent on the sofa watching a movie. Perhaps it is a bit selfish of me using other people to make my life more memorable but they were sincerely grateful and adamantly said so. 

Now I have this memory of that one evening we hosted two strangers in our home. We laughed. We talked. We ate. I stressed out about what to cook. We shared and now hopefully both of our lives are richer for it.

Despite all of that, it proved to me once again that life is meant for memory making, if only every day was filled with a memorable moment we could carry in our bank for ever. I need to be careful though, Gab is going to get ahold of this blog post and remind me I need to make memories by doing something not within my semi-comfort zone such as feeding strangers but rather something like climbing a tree in underwear or watching Si-Fi in animal suits while eating cheese naan (which I have already done).

##Happy (Smiley Face)

Happiness seems to be a buzz word lately. It's as if there has been a new awakening among people, happy or not, for a renewed effort to be happy -- sort of that it's a new or forgotten concept and that happiness is almost a fad, which is quite unfortunate if that is the case. Perhaps it is just me whose lived under a giant, disconnected rock called Africa for the last 3+ years, I was quite ignorant to people's state of happiness or even more so their unhappiness. It is easy to be blind to the ebbs and flows of a society when you are not an active participant. I have found this to be the case on many topics not just this one.

In recent months I have become increasingly aware of the happiness revival: 'Happy' by Pharrell Williams sweeping the nation and the world, #100daysofhappiness, a plethora of smiley faces and more discussions among friends and colleagues about this thing called happy(ness). Don't get me wrong, happiness is a beautiful thing; however, isn't this a deeper reflection of our own unhappiness as a society that we now are hashtagging, creating visual and audible cues that 'oh, I should be happy' questioning as if life was supposed to be anything different?

I mentioned in my last blog post that I would be giving up my SMART phone. In my first few months back in the United States I was quite dependent on it. After living for several years within a 5mile radius, I had lost my sense of direction which was very frustrating. Constantly moving from couch to couch, city to city, my SMART phone allowed me to navigate my way but also stay connected at all times to my significant other while doing international long distance.

Once we were reunited, we agreed for many reasons to get ride of the SMART phone. Neither one of us had used such a device for several years, if ever, and having a high-tech gadget seemed like a luxury not a necessity. We were also forced to start consolidating our lives, including finances, and having a SMART phone just doesn't work in our budget at the moment. We also became quite aware how society was choosing for us how we should live -- through an app. We decided to become resistant instead of transformative.

I must admit, it was harder than I expected. I kept prolonging the day that I would give it up. Gabs starting making fun of me, annoyingly asking if I was courageous enough to live without it. We went to AT&T to ask about a new sim card for a 'normal' phone. The guy eager to help rushed to the back, switched my number to a 'regular' sim and came back saying my micro-sim was no longer in use. I think my jaw hit the floor. I was a bit in shock. I wasn't ready to give it up that day but no choice now, all sorted with a smile.

As difficult as it was initially to give it up, it has been surprisingly easy to live without it. Our lives are a bit more inconvenient per other people's standards but it has increased our #happiness. It has forced us to communicate more in terms of planning routes, discovering new places because we get lost or start up random conversations with strangers because we aren't plugged into a device allowing us to passive-aggressively ignore the world. We also spend more time together because now connecting to the other world means intentionally getting on a computer, which most of the time I can't be bothered with outside of 8am-4pm Monday-Friday.

The most shocking thing since giving up the SMART phone is realizing how reliant the rest of the world is on it. We have become quite sensitive now to people on their SMART phones and how they interact with the world. It is very sad to see a group of friends 'eating' dinner together at a restaurant while all are spending their time together in cyber space. It is even sadder to see parents automatically handing off tablets, ipads and phones to their children in periods of stillness teaching them that they also need to be connected to something outside of their physical sphere. Living as a pedestrian with 80% of drivers on their phone, I have been nearly road kill on a weekly basis. And all of this has just been a sad mirroring of what my own life was just a few months ago.

What is the long-term key to your happiness?

Happiness is an everyday thing lasting longer than 100 days or the life of someone else's 4:08minute music video. I have learned that a life of simplicity and balance is when I have true happiness. My happy place lies in quality, genuine relationships. It is also the silent moments not filled with noise: music, beeps, buzzes or alerts.

Happiness -- it's in everyday, all around you.

Side-Walker

My American life now is very different than what I thought it would be. When I made the decision to return to the U.S. after almost four years living overseas, I knew it wasn't going to be easy. I didn't contemplate how exactly it wasn't going to be easy and the details of all of that. I just knew.

A month after settling into life in Baltimore, I find myself being a bit of an odd ball. I can be an American because, well, I am white; and not that non-white people aren't American, they are, there's just not as much speculation living in a U.S. metropolitan city that I would be from Thailand, India or Switzerland. I am most definitely an American based on my level of student loan debt but not many people see that. Many people have commented on my accent: some say I am a Nuw Yawka, another guessed eastern European and others just don't know. When I tell people I don't have a car, they look at me with pity like I have lost something more important than a limb and almost apologize for how challenging my life must be.

I have become a side-walker - literally and metaphorically. I have seen and continue to see into the lives of other people from the periphery, trying to take the good and bad all for personal growth and good use.

In the last month, I have walked several miles to the grocery store and back, home from work, to the coffee shop, taking a stroll or just meeting people for dinner. I am a pedestrian. I have realized that life is a lot more vulnerable when you are not a car owner. I am subject to it all: beggars, weather, dogs and drivers on their cell phones swerving to miss hitting me while I cross the street when it's my turn signaled by that little man in the box who turned from red to white.

It looks safe and warm inside those cars. It looks comfortable, convenient. It is much faster than whatever means of transportation I am taking whether it be a bus, metro, light rail or my own two feet. While living in the U.S., I have never known life without a vehicle, until now. But I have learned more about Joe Smith walking down the street talking on his phone in much higher decibels than necessary speaking of taking a relationship to the next level or Jim Bob on the train calling his Mama about how maaaddd he be at Susie. Thus far I have fought the urge to buy ear buds in an effort to tune my and the rest of the world out in an effort to experience the world for what it is, despite unpleasantries.

Aside from the literal side-walking activities I have done of late, I find that my greatest challenge is in my mind - daily walking on all sides of my education, life experience and spiritual upbringing. I am a hodgepodge. I am becoming more and more resistant to norms. Perhaps I live in one of the most dangerous cities in the world because I am used to living in adventure. My refrigerator only contains food for this week because my British partner has taught me other people live with one the size of a shoe box and survive. In a month, I am abandoning my smart phone for a Haitian Chinese Nokia. My apartment is full of African art. I am strange, or so the world around me and the voices of my past experience at battle with each other tell me.

I am trying to embrace my place in my strange-ness. I notice that it challenges people, even makes them uncomfortable. When I tell someone I am walking a mile home, they get a sense of obligation to drive me verbalizing that it is too far to walk. Or when I offer to pay for dinner, I get a sense of surprise and shock that people still do that. The man asking for food outside the grocery store who I gave bananas too, he was taken-aback that anyone would actually fulfill his request.

I have American blood in my veins, Jesus in my heart, British in my vocabulary, second-hand store on my person and the desire to live simply from the poor in Africa.

This is me.