There are moments of
doubt. Moments when I'm loathe to roll out of bed..
Then I think of the
people I've met, the experiences I've had, and the possibilities that
lay before me... And I wonder how it took me so long to attempt this.
Saturday wasn't one
of those moments [of doubt]. Though, I knew something was wrong the
instant I awoke at 5:29am, seconds before my alarm could sound.
Promptness on my part carries with it a definite sense of foreboding.
If I'm early, packed and ready to go, it means something is going to
throw a wrench in my day.
This wrench
manifested in the form of a missing combi. Unbeknownst to me, it
hadn't had enough passengers to make the ride home to the village the
night before, and was postponed for two days—pay day is the last
day of the month, and the demand for transport lessens as people run
out of cash.
When I moved to
Africa, asking people for rides was difficult for me. We don't
frequently hitch rides with strangers in America. Especially women.
We're forewarned against the practice from birth. Now.. I'll pester
anyone in sight if I need to be somewhere.
I had to be in
Rundu. It was required. For my sanity. A farewell party for group 36
volunteers closing out their service in Namibia. You never know what
shenanigans will arise. Or what will, inevitably, be broken [or the
mysterious manner in which they are broken].. Or who you might meet.
It worked. Forty
minutes later we were on the road. I had cajoled a Bulgarian
construction worker, who had otherwise planned to sleep that morning,
into driving me, and other stranded villagers, to the Red Line so we
could hike north.
I made it with time
to spare. We had a house for the night... A little privacy is always
a plus—where we can be loud and boisterous without
being completely on display. Just a little break from being
representatives of the States.
Between
conversations, I fed myself fistfuls of couscous and apple cake in the kitchen (in
my party dress, but not quite breaking a previously stated
resolution). And eventually the excited and, frankly, loud
conversations died down... After the few who wanted to go out dancing
had abandoned us, and I'd taken a power nap and consumed 16 ounces of
coffee—I got my second wind. We lowered the lights, relaxed on the
couches, were serenaded by a few of the musically inclined—even if
we couldn't remember all the words.
At some point I made
a new friend—a nomad and a writer—who tells [bad] jokes on
request, and can speak with an easy earnestness that makes you forget
you've only been acquainted for a couple hours. I only felt a minor
twinge of guilt that we kept others up by talking.
And I felt no guilt
for waylaying him the next day on the premise of repairing his guitar
case. The bottom panel had been completely ripped open on one side,
and I did have my sewing kit.. But I also just wanted a few more
hours. Even if he had a long hike ahead of him, and should have
started out at dawn. I didn't let him out of my clutches until
noon..
Moments, and people,
like this... They disrupt your [occasionally low] expectations and
add the colour to your experiences and memories. See you in Malawi, maybe. See you in Israel, definitely.
Now playing (on repeat):
1 Album | 14 songs | 60 minutes, 37 seconds
Disclosure | Settle
