consequently

After what seemed like hours of my mom showing me how to do it just right, I’ve given up completely. I’ve stopped tucking in the sheet on my bed. Consequences? Once in a while in the middle of the night I have to wake up and straighten it out.

I’ve stopped plotting out exactly how long it takes me to get from my house to work, my house to church, my house to your house. Consequences? I show up late and I show up early.

I no longer follow social guidelines on when it is or is not appropriate to fall asleep. If I am sleepy, I will lay down on your living room floor and snooze. Consequences? There may be drool on your carpet.

I don’t attempt to fill the silences that periodically come when two people who don’t know each other very well attempt to create small talk. Consequences? The other person may feel awkward.

I [usually] don’t laugh at jokes that aren’t funny. I used to feel an obligation to give a slight ha ha. Consequences? Dead silence after the joke and perhaps a dip in the jokester’s ego?

I don’t believe that colors match or don’t match anymore. I haven’t thought about clashing or matching since 2009. Consequences? None that I know of.

These are consequences I don’t regret. There are other consequences to all this too. My time is saved. My energy is well-spent instead of squandered. I allow myself to feel comfortable instead of ill at ease. What has kept me from doing all this long ago?

and that’s why you always leave a note

Monday morning I woke up at 6:20am and kept asking myself, “Can this be right?” My mind was having trouble wrapping around the idea that I was supposed to be getting out of bed and it was dark outside. Those two things happening. At the same time. Ever so slowly we arrived there, my mind and I. And we went to work.

After finding a horrible, ugly spider in the basement shower drain of the second house I cleaned that morning, I decided something has to change. It may involve conquering my fear of spiders or it may involve giving up cleaning altogether. I’m not sure which is the more realistic plan. As I ponder this, I ask myself, “Am I on Dirty Jobs?” because it feels like it.

That nasty episode was forgotten, however, as I rode with my parents and sisters to Nebraska City. I really love this tradition which involves whispering at the Whispering Wall, playing on a kids merry-go-round, walking around the outside of a huge old house I wish I owned, and lamenting over the fact that they don’t use that sweet old machine to sort apples anymore.

We were piling into the car to go home when we heard the crunch of aluminum. Across the parking lot an elderly lady in a purple velvet jumpsuit was getting out of her car, the left front of which was crumpled against a jeep which had been pushed up onto the curb. Dad crossed the lot to comfort the distraught woman. The rest of us watched and guessed what could have possibly happened to make this woman hit a unmoving car that was parked in the lot. After the owner of the jeep arrived, Dad got back in the car and said, “Well, people, that’s why you don’t drive with your windows down.” Which I thought was an odd conclusion to draw. I thought it would be more along the lines of “Well, people, that’s why you don’t drive in parking lots.” or something along those lines. It made more sense when I found out what happened. A wasp had flown into the open window of the lady’s car and being deathly afraid of wasps, she panicked. I feel for her. I am, you may recall, deathly afraid of spiders. I just hope one never flies into my open window.

vacay

This family vacation has been just what is should be. It’s been the perfect mix of the outdoor and the indoor.

Hikes and walks through mountains and along the lake. There is nothing, nothing, more beautifully satisfying than a mountain stream. Yes it is freezing beyond belief. That didn’t stop us from venturing in though. I couldn’t help thinking, this is how all sources of water were meant to be. All I have to compare it to is the Missouri River. Let’s think of more pleasant things.Completion of a 2000 piece puzzle. A huge accomplishment really. Especially considering that Anna “the Puzzler” Tschetter was on the case. When she’s focused, it’s an accomplishment for the rest of us to make any progress of our own. I was glad when the final pieces found their places especially since I knew that meant the end of certain family members calling out “bingo bango” every time they made a piece fit.

An afternoon spent cycling through the pine woods. (Cycling sounds so much better than “riding bikes.”) The ride didn’t pass without incident. Maria and I were speeding down a hill when we heard Rachel cry out behind us. After speeding back up the hill we discovered she had taken a tumble. She handled her bruises and scrapes with valor as I checked for signs of concussion. True, I’m not sure what the patient’s eyes are supposed to look like as they follow my finger back and forth but I declared her concussion-free regardless.

Completed two books and counting. The Hunger Games really should have been undertaken with more caution. It caused two nights in which sleep was pushed off until 1 and 2am because my lack of discipline in putting an interesting book down. The Education of a WASP was only slightly less gripping and much more substantive.

My nose has been pink and raw from the sandpaper kleenexes I’ve been using instead of pink and cold from the mountain air like it should be. Regardless of the ongoing discussion whether the malady is due to allergies or simply a common cold, the pile of crumpled tissues is threatening to take over my space. I only hope to give myself enough space in the coming weeks so that my immune system doesn’t shut down the next time I stop going full speed.

colorado

I find myself asking what if questions a lot.  Not the crazy what if questions like “What if I die tomorrow” or “What if I lost my job” or “What if all my hair falls out.”  (Although I am seriously wondering about that last one).  It’s more like “What would it be like if I worked here?” or “What would it be like to live here?” which is the question I always ask myself when traveling.  I’ve got cities around the globe pegged.

Places I’d love to live: Bougouni, Chicago, British Columbia.
Places I’d maybe like to live: Brazil, Dallas, Southern France.
Places I’d live only out of necessity: Moscow, Lisbon, Oklahoma City.
Places I would never live under any circumstances ever: Paris, Philadelphia, anywhere west of Lincoln in Nebraska.

Unknown: Colorado.

I’ve always had a special place in my heart for Colorado.  So many happy memories are there.  Family vacations take place in CO and it is where my favorite cousin lives.  There was that one college choir tour in Colorado that was questionable.  It’s hard to say because there were positives and negatives. Positive: exploring a giant mansion in the dark. Negative: getting locked in a church baptistry.

Despite the memories, I’m not sure Colorado is my place.

While spending the last few days in Colorado, I tried to imagine what it would be like to live here over and over.  However, no matter what situation I put myself in, I just don’t fit.

I’m not someone who could be a The North Face model on any given day.  I don’t get high regularly.  I don’t prove my connectedness to nature by wearing tie dye skirts and scorning anyone who doesn’t love chipmunks.  [stereotypes and extremes, I know] I don’t enjoy skiing and can’t make myself pay more than $15 for sunglasses. True, there are mountains. And it’s Tim Tebow’s new home and if living here somehow guaranteed hanging out with him, that might sway me.  As it is, I’m not sure that Tebow and the mountains are enough to lure me into making my home here.

It’s the only place to find antler chandeliers.  And that I can never completely forgive.

I do love the mountains though.

worldpain

I observed this today.

Happy childhoods = disillusioned lives.

I am not completely sure this is true. (This is a new thing for me – spouting out half-baked ideas. It’s generally frowned upon I know but I’ve come to terms with the fact that I don’t have everything figured out so the rest of the world might as well comes to terms with that too). Just in case the above equation doesn’t make sense to you, let me explain.

If you grow up and neither of your parents die young or they aren’t too mean to you and you live in a nice house and none of the kids you know really bully you and you get good grades and go to the college that you applied for and don’t think much about it if possible employers don’t call you back because you got that other job that you applied for which you wanted more anyway…if that all happened to you, you probably had a happy childhood. Then, if suddenly something (or a lot of things) start going wrong when you are 23, what are you supposed to do with that? For absolutely no apparent reason your happy childhood seems to fail you. Not only that, but everyone you’ve ever looked up to fails you too. Why? Because they failed to prepare you for how to deal with all of this bad stuff happening. I mean, at least they could’ve warned you or something. So there you have it. You are disillusioned.

Let me introduce you to a word that is like disillusionment on steroids: weltschmerz. First, let’s work on pronunciation. Do not say welt (as in the result of a stray golf ball). Say velt (as in belt with a v). Once you pronounce the w correctly, I know you will flourish the e in schmerz appropriately.

From the dictionary:

Weltschmerz |ˈvɛltˌ sh mɛɐ̯rts|
noun
a feeling of melancholy and world-weariness.
ORIGIN German, from Welt ‘world’ + Schmerz ‘pain.’

I just cancelled a flight I had booked to Florida. Florida, that far-off state that was annoying even from a distance because of swamps, mosquitoes, and the Hurricanes. Then I went there and it became even more annoying because of how each blade of grass at Disney is the same length. Then I went there again and none of that mattered because suddenly I had friends there. I even found myself wanting to be there with them. In Florida. Where bugs grow large and are never killed off by frost. And I was going to learn all this great stuff that would maybe help my friends in Mali. And now? Now my flight is cancelled.

Weltschmerz. It’s such a great word they didn’t bother to translate it. There’s nothing to translate it to. There isn’t an English equivalent that captures what this word captures. And it captures a lot – basically my life right now. I mean, my happy childhood has translated into a happy adulthood: job, bills paid, time to spend with good friends. But some of that world-weariness is wearing on me. Sometimes all I can do is sit in my open window and cry.

And yet in the midst of that God allows me to have fun with friends, laugh at jokes, feel high-spirited, enjoy beautiful weather, and learn from worthwhile conversations. I have to ask myself, was I ever promised more than that anyway?

hello, i’m frank

I consider myself a very frank person.

That isn’t true.  I mean, I do consider myself to be frank but in reality I’m not that frank.  Sometimes I wish I was as frank as I think I am.

The biggest thing getting in the way of my frankness?  Other people’s feelings.  It’s the reason I can’t tell people that they’re fun-suckers or need more mousse or that I don’t trust them because they told that one thing to that one person that once.

The other thing getting in the way is that I don’t want people to think badly of me.  Which I want you to know I consider a serious flaw.

So from now on I am going to be frank without crushing anyone’s feelings.  I figure it’s better to get it out there in the open immediately.  Why not from the first moment of the relationship?  You never know where a friendship will go and honesty is the best policy they say.

Hello, my name is Rebecca.  I’ve never tried very hard at anything because most things come too easy for me.  As a result, all my effort is mediocre.

I can do it for other people I know too.

Hello, my name is __.  I think about my split ends more than the economic crisis.

Hello, my name is __.  I try to get people’s attention by wearing short skirts and accusing them of hating me when they don’t call back.

Hello, my name is __.  I love my mom more than my fiancée.

Hello, my name is __.  I do my best to make other people feel inferior so that they won’t notice my insecurity.

This would all be easier if someone would just start a custom-made t-shirt business where you write your flaws confessions frankness on a t-shirt so you can skip saying it out loud.  Then even strangers can appreciate how honest you are.  Someone better jump on that idea quick.  It’s hot.

life in omaha

Life in Omaha is quiet. There are no donkeys braying. Cars only honk once in a while. You can’t hear people talking outside your house.

Life in Omaha is busy. People walk fast. Cars drive fast. Food comes fast and goes fast.

Life in Omaha is empty. There just aren’t a lot of people around. No one jostles you as you try to get through the crowd. There is no crowd.

Life in Omaha is comfortable. Sitting on my couch in the air conditioning with a wide array of food and drink choices should I become either hungry or thirsty.

Life in Omaha is familiar. There aren’t a lot of possibilities of what could be going on in a given situation. I usually can figure it out pretty easily.

Life in Omaha is my life. This one is hard for me to remember. Sometimes I wake up from my daydreaming and realize that I’m here and Mali is very far away. My body is finally realizing that it is in Omaha and not Bougouni. I wonder how long it will take my mind to do the same. Often what I’m seeing and doing here is disconnected from what my mind is seeing and doing – it is busily processing Mali thoughts and memories.

Tomorrow is my fifth day back in Omaha. I’ll continue doing what I do. I think about Mali. I sleep as much as possible. And I begin to pick up my life again.

ne koro muso

Sarah and I with some of Bougouni in the background.  That day we spent about four hours talking on that hill.  She’s a really good listener.  There’s some other stuff about her that I bet you didn’t know.  Like did you know she sneezes really loudly?  Or that she makes herself laugh a lot?  She also really likes to hang out in the far left lane on the interstate.  She has a really cute gap in her teeth.  She likes big jewelry and knows how to accessorize.  She has good taste in movies especially the classics.  She’s super organized but has learned to live with some mess and she makes delicious party food.  She really loves our family and loves to spend time with her sisters.  She’ll also hate that I’m writing this post because she doesn’t like to draw attention to herself.  But if I don’t do it, who will?  Wherever we went in Bougouni I introduced her as ne koro muso.  “My big sister.”  She’s always been my big sister and she always will be but I’m so happy that she’s also my best friend and has given me room to grow and be myself.  It means so much to me that she came to Mali!

from bougouni to paris

In Paris, finding myself with some unexpected down time and thinking about Mali.  My eyes are seeing the Eiffel Tour and the Arc de Triomphe and the Louvre but my mind is seeing this:And this: And this: To further prove my distractedness, I must share that so far the only Paris souvenir I’ve bought is this: The True Taste of Mali It was a chance find at a bookstore we were passing and it put me on cloud 9 until we walked a few more blocks and realized that we were lost. Getting lost was worth it though.  I had to look at every page to make sure it wasn’t a fake Mali recipe book and although I have no idea if the to and tigue digue na and nomi will turn out the way Tanti Marthe makes them, they were all in there and that’s good enough for me.

I’ve been able to enjoy the beauty and perfection of Paris but when there’s nothing spectacular to look at, my thoughts begin to wander. I start thinking about Bougouni – conversations I’ve had and people I’ve left. The concrete and metal here are in sharp contrast to the dirt and straw there. I think back to when I was at the airport in Bamako. There’s something monumental about stepping onto the Paris-bound airplane in the Bamako airport. The aircraft door closes behind you and when it does you know it’s sealing off more than just outside air pressure. It’s like a barrier between you and everyone you’ve already started to miss.

However, in order to check the drama and not start crying, I had better write down a few things that I neglected to tell during my last weeks in Mali. Life went on like normal after we arrived home from Nossombougou. People started showing up though: First my boss came in order to teach the American students and wrap up the trip for them. Second my sister came! She wanted to know what was behind all my talk about Mali and I hope she wasn’t disappointed. She got a taste for greeting and rice with sauce and walking to the market. She rode a moto and slept under a mosquito net and enjoyed the rain even more than I did. I’m so thankful that she was able to experience a little bit of Malian culture!

The other thing we spent our time doing was saying goodbye. Gèdèon graduated from IBR and it was a day of celebration followed by some sadness as all the IBR students dispersed for the summer vacation. They’ll be back in October to continue learning. Then of course we had our own goodbyes to say as we prepared to leave ourselves.

Some of my Malian friends said that we might not see each other again until chez Matigi which means “at the home of the Lord.” It’s not a grammatically correct term since it’s mixing French and Bambara but I keep rolling it over and over in my head. That brings me a lot of hope but I also don’t completely believe that the next time I see them will be there. I know God holds the future and I want to trust Him with it. But as far as I can plan, I would see my friends in Mali again.

last day

It’s my last day in Bougouni and I only have a minute to update. Even though I haven’t posted here in a while I’ve been thinking about posting which is almost the same thing.  I don’t really believe that.  I also don’t believe all of this:

- that time can go by so quickly

- that my sister is here in the flesh!

- that I will be home on June 30th

- that I have to say goodbye again

I can only say that I can try to post again once I am stateside again.  There’s a lot that has gone unrecorded that may never be recorded but I think that’s ok.  K’an sooni. (see you soon!)