Two weeks till schools pile full with kids who might write a paper titled, What I Did Last Summer. Get your road trip on and enjoy the ride! How to save a little and have more fun on your road … Continue reading
I’m on my third day of malarial treatment, so I am feeling the full effects of life in northeastern Ghana. It is hard living in the developing world. I knew that the moment the airplane door hatch opened as the … Continue reading
Day 2, Arrival in Kenya I fell asleep within a half hour after getting here after lunch. Our two year old crawled into his bed at 5 pm. Our six year old crawled into her bed at 6. My husband fell … Continue reading
Walking past a primary school in a mountain town of northeast Kenya, I saw dozens of children rushing to the wire fence. What were they looking at? Mzungus! White people. We garner more excited interest than Queen Elizabeth when we saw her only … Continue reading
I can walk down the street entirely disinteresting and anonymous, in Canada. In Kenya, I ken be the highlight of some kid’s day. I was eager for a walk, so we travelled past the girls’ school, my girls begging me, please don’t go shake hands. Because I can see that our kids’ saturation point of being laughed at has been reached, I followed my children away from the crowd.
I can be satisfied with my three bedroom, two car garage home, two vehicles, full pantry and annual vacation, with enough left over for the occasional non-fat latte or night out. In Kenya, I ken give thanks for my daily bread (chai and a loaf of white), roaring fire with cache of hard-earned firewood, and my family’s health today.
I can be thankful for a tax funded safety net of social services, employment insurance and privately funded food banks. Or I ken see my little children beg, if you would be of assistance, to give me some money.
I ken drink sugary, whole milk chai every morning, sip soda every afternoon, and nibble on lollipops, but still be undernourished and underweight. Or, I can consume high fat fast food, nibble on cheese and crackers, potatoe chips, and frappucinnos, and have no reason for being undernourished yet overweight.
I ken get no reliable internet service. I can get reliable service, just not Telus-friendly service.
The sky’s the limit in what I can access at my local library. I ken get dusty, broken bound classics at the Kapsowar library. (Why there are books about cross country skiing and low-fat cooking on these shelves, I will never understand).
I can get occasional quality products from a dollar store…you would think so too if you ken get less-than dollar store quality combs, plastic sieves, caps and machetes at the Kapsowar market as your only option.
I can’t forget what I look like in the mirror, how stylish I might be dressed, or whether I’m Shape’s ideal size. I ken be thankful that my six skirts still sit on my waist and that I’m not thinking about coordinating, just glad that my tummy’s full and there’s food in the refrigerator for tomorrow.
I can get a 9-5 job with a half hour lunch break. Or I ken show up at 10:30 and take a two hour lunch break…okay, I’m not actually complaining, because I’m paying so little for outstanding help that it seems unreasonably unfair. Still, just saying, I can’t keep no job in Canada with those hours.
I can expect that I’ll have a visit within fifteen minutes of an agreed appointment. Or I ken expect to wait for hours. Jim, in his conscientious approach, insisted on being at a three o’clock appointment one day–I told him we should not waste time. It’s what I do, he insisted. Okey dokey, I acquiesed. Sure enough, the old African adage came true: North Americans have the watch, but Africans have the time!
I can turn up the furnace. Or, I ken gather the firewood and light the fire.
I can throw the laundry in the front load washer. Or, I ken throw the mound in to the bathtub and rub a dub scrub.
I can watch netflix. Or, I ken catch up on the classics: Dicken’s David Copperfield, Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, and Austen’s Emma.
I ken be simply content with less, thankful for my daily bread, and my little family. Or I can think I should be more, have more, live more, strive more.
I hope I ken bring home Kenya’s contentment, and can live it out in Canada.
I am tired. Each evening the symphony of insects eases me into slumber, and each morning the tropical vegetation awakens my senses. As soon as I walk through the station compound, though, I feel I have entered an altered universe. I don’t know how … Continue reading
If I could explain to you what the colour blue looked like if you were blind, when the calm shade was not in your visual repetoire, how would I do it? If you’ve never been to the developing world, and … Continue reading
We drove to the middle of nowhere. We’ve been to Africa. It’s not in the middle of nowhere; there are more people than square feet. Where we drove, one can get lost. And no one would be around to know where you might have gone. It feels like a million miles from everywhere–though a grocery store is only an hour away.
Though the teenager was thrilled by this expedition, the younger three wondered when the pain of the drive would end. A couple hours winding British Columbia mountain roads — for what?
When we’d finally get to the turnoff that would tell us that the road was not safe, no longer in use, we turned right and drove up it…
Good thing we have 4 WD–this ain’t no Sunday drive. Oh wait, it’s Sunday.
The couple hundred feet drops as we switchback along — tumbling rocky mountains and an occasional deer nipping a bush greet us.
The only sign of civilization at the top: an outhouse telling us to “Beware of possible wasp nests! Please latch outhouse door, wind gusts will rip unlatched door off its hinges”.
More than two hours driving, we were ready to rock this mountain (well, two of us were).
Until the first few steps revealed we’d either gained weight on our trip up or oxygen saturation was lower.
She’d not be the only one saying “help me”.
It was clear quickly that we weren’t zipping up those footpath switchbacks in the tour books suggestion of an hour. Every half dozen steps up, we stopped for oxygen.
And selfies that resemble satisfaction.
What motivated us to keep going? This…
But there were more than a few expressions of this…
…from everyone under forty one.
This guy would be the primary role of picnic caregiver, two backpacks. He didn’t complain. Checking our pulses at 150 bpm, out of breath, he knew we couldn’t do it. A good mile of switchbacks UP the mountain–he was the only one trained for this. Imagine that the book says this is an “easy” hike.
The flat trails were met with cheers of relief.
Opposite our trail was the notorious Jumbo Mountain. Locals are resisting the creation of a new ski resort in our quieter mountain community. Someone has cleared patches of mountain for some reason.
Something I’ve not seen before: new coniferous trees muddied in parts. They might appeared burned on one side, or perhaps an animal has rubbed against it, but I see some type of sap or mud gumming up the needles. This area is so dry there could easily be forest fires — just fifteen minutes away from our home, fire has ripped down the mountain putting the residents on evacuation warning.
We entered a woodland thick with mosquitos.
Good thing we brought the Africa Deet. So clear was the water, I’m sure it would be drinkable.
What are these flowers? We’re only weeks away from the abundant blooming of mountain meadows, but so many hikes, so little time, we’ll likely not find our way back here this summer.
Our most optimistic and hearty child has had quite enough of the bugs and the ‘walk’.
Six years old, like daddy like son, he’s accomplished quite a feat. Driving home, my husband naps before his night shift and I take that 4WD off because I’m swinging along these mountain roads like a kid on a playground. We stop to take a dip at the Kaslo beach and collapse in front of the lakeside café for a well-earned burger and fries.
Van Gogh said, “If you truly love Nature, you will find beauty everywhere”. But I’d rather find it on a mountain.
A new term I’ve discovered, not yet in my English dictionary. Land and infatuation…”Landfatuation”: the description of awe, wonder and anticipation at a piece of raw land and all that it can become. Directly ahead of me is a young … Continue reading
I bought a tent. My Pinterest board, titled “Things I will probably never do, but will pin anyway”, must now be renamed “Camping”. A six man tent, equivalent in cost to a night in a fancy four star suite, … Continue reading