Lilliput

“[…] when I awakened, it was just day-light. I attempted to rise, but was not able to stir: for, as I happened to lie on my back, I found my arms and legs were strongly fastened on each side to the ground; and my hair, which was long and thick, tied down in the same manner. I likewise felt several slender ligatures across my body, from my arm-pits to my thighs. I could only look upwards” (12)

Gulliver’s Travels Jonathan Swift

So here I sit, mumbling and bumbling and stumbling through a week and a half of memories and my fingers feel like they’ve been bound by a thousand Lilliputians. How can they type when such ties hold them down? Each past minute is like a tiny string, and I can’t decide whether I want to sever them all in a jerk of the wrist, or to patiently untie the knots of seconds.

To begin, there has been change, and there has been more than change. After ten weeks of growing accustomed, developing routine, marking maps, and stretching my arms just a little bit father than their wingspan in an attempt to get a hold on things, I find that the world has transformed around me. I spent the entirety of last week holed up in my room, reading books and counting calendar blocks, and when Friday arrived, it was like emerging from a cocoon.

Around five pm, as the sun started to dip, the Kansas kids and our crew strolled to RiverWalk to catch the opening showing of The Dark Knight. I was eager to see the film, but could hardly pay attention because I was waiting for something more exciting. At 7:40, twenty minutes before the credits began to roll, I got a call from the OIEP office, and I ran out of the theatre. A cab took me back to UB, where I met Charity and our driver, and we proceeded to the airport. At 9:30 pm, one hour after his scheduled flight arrival (who knew that an additional sixty minutes could feel so interminable?) Daniel appeared.

What happens when you stop missing? It is a curious moment, that split second of change, that shift from the future to the present. In a furious tidal sweep, every ounce of missingness whooshes out of you, the empty spaces simultaneously filling with elation and wonder because perhaps you can never really get over the marvel of absence and presence and just exactly what the difference is between the two. I won’t elaborate further, except to say that reunions can be completely surreal and incredibly glorious for a million reasons and also a million and one.

Also on the subject of glorious reunions, our dearest, globetrotting Sebastian followed with an arrival on Sunday. Aside from a little mishap with his bags (they didn’t quite make it from Addis Ababa to Joburg – instead they were mysteriously and temporarily diverted to Lagos) he arrived whole and sound and with sound (an extra appendage otherwise known as a djembe). He and Daniel are now situated in different suites in the same building in the graduate complex, just a few steps away from my own 417 F. For those of you who know these boys, you understand intuitively what their presence means. For those of you who don’t, I can only list the words luck, adventure, green, laughter, beats, gatherings, magic, reclining chairs, streets, worn shoes, and hot sauce, and hope that you will someday understand. I feel four times taller and ten heads shorter and if I smile too much well it’s a little problem I just have to deal with.

What else? Memories are bouncing around and colliding with fact and it doesn’t help that my eyes are drooping and that recording feels futile because more minutes keeps piling up. To bar Overwhelmed from entering my head (an unwelcome guest), I proceed with snippets.

The Campus: An entirely different creature. Overnight, it morphed from a sleepy ghost town into a bustling crazy hub of chatting, laughing, staring, dancing students. It is entirely confusing and overwhelming and humbling and exciting and reassuring and terrifying and everything all at once, and it has been a true shock to the system to witness so much activity again. I hadn’t quite realized just how tame life had grown until I found myself once again mixed in with the swagger of youth and the heightened tension of social pressures and that high flying, nausea inducing first day of kindergarten feeling. I feel out of place more than ever, but I’m glad that things are finally picking up.

Abode: The suite feel suddenly empty and quiet all of a sudden, now that Abby, Jen, and Mma Dioka are gone (the former two headed to the States and Korea, respectively, and the latter headed back to her village home.) Neo is still around, and I’m finally conscious of just how much I’ve grown to appreciate her company. She’s a familiar and reliable friend and housemate, and I’m glad that she’s staying put. I, however, uprooted a little bit, and move across the kitchen into a room opposite my old one. It looks exactly the same, except the window faces into a barren little trash strewn courtyard instead of out to the main walkway. I chose it for privacy but I now have to be a little bit more wary of sneaky intruders since it’s a less visible entrance. But hey, you weigh your options.

International Student Orientation: I never expected it, but as of late, I’ve been hearing more German than Setswana. There are about 30 international exchange students here this semester, and the majority of them are German or Norwegian. There are also a few kids from the Netherlands, a few more from the States, one boy from Mexico, and a bunch of older graduate students from Lesotho, Zimbabwe, and Swaziland. Everyone that I’ve met has struck me as really laid back and interesting in both background and academic interests, and I am incredibly relieved to have such a good group to begin things with. We had a two day orientation program (basically an exact replica of my internship orientation), and while most things were a bit repetitive to me, it was good to sit through it if just to chat with everyone now and then. The orientation speeches were very frustrating in some ways because I felt like the advisors and volunteers really weren’t being clear about a lot of things, and I had to keep biting my tongue when the urge struck to clarify or elaborate.

The Odd-ball: It is hard to describe exactly, but having been here for a while already, I find myself feeling like a bit of an outsider amongst the other international kids. I keep trying to offer some helpful hints about night life and grocery shopping, etc. but I fear that I’ll end up sounding like a know it all if I blab too much. I think it all really boils down to the fact that people are adventurous and want to discover things on their own and in their own time, so I have to learn to wait for help requested. Additionally, while I’m grateful for the other student’s fresh enthusiasm, there are some instances where, again, I find myself biting my tongue. It took me two months to even begin to come to terms with the frustration I feel in regards to the bureaucracy and inefficiencies here, and it is a little hard for me to try to explain these feelings in a sentence or two when asked about the summer. How can I explain working at Kamogelo? The standard answer to “how was it” would be “great – tiring and hard, but great,” and yet that doesn’t touch on anything real at all. I know that everyone will quickly come around to things on their own (a few days of registration horrors has already started the chatter) but it’s a little uncomfortable for me nonetheless. It’s the great waiting game for the conclusions to start rolling through.

Kgale hill: we climbed it. It took about an hour and a half to get to the top, which seems like nothing in exchange for the view it provided. The entirety of Gaborone was visible below us, and glazed with the glow of the setting sun, it lay looking prettier than it’s ever seemed up close. Height is good for perspective, and it was nice to zoom out for an hour or so.

Monday: Seb and Daniel came with Abby and I to Kamogelo for a last official day of classes. It was really surreal to finally be able to point out in person all of the daily landmarks, and to share my thoughts real time with them rather than via email or skype. The kids fell in love with both of them immediately, and we had a really good time just playing hand games and singing songs. However, without a doubt, the crowning moment of the visit was our gathering in the Dining Hall. Seb had brought his drum and Daniel had his harmonica, and with those two simple instruments they sparked a whirlwind of tiny feet stomping and wild laughter. I have never seen children more fascinated by sound, and the hip shaking and pelvic thrusting that accompanied the wide-eyed wonder was a comical treat. It all depends on our class scheduling, but we’re hoping to go back to Kamogelo at least once a week to continue helping out and making happiness.

Registration: _________. that is almost all I have to say about it. almost. I once again marvel at the fact that UB functions at all, because based on all indicators, it shouldn’t. Course registration here is all done by hand, and this is of course contingent upon your ability to get a hold of a course calendar, schedule, list, and timetable (rare and valuable commodities.) Some things I have learned in the process:
1. Even if a class is listed as available for this semester, it may not be. You will not find this out until you attempt to register and are denied a few days later.
2. The lines to register with your Faculty can snake through campus and last for hours.
3. Wait.
4. If there is no explanation for things, there is no explanation for things.
5. If your registration paper work has passed through less than fifty hands, it is not done moving.
6. If classes start on Monday and you’ve been trying to register for a week but things are still not complete and it doesn’t look like they will be any time soon, you are part of the majority.
7. Trust the process. What process? Trust that there is a process.

Out with the old, in with the new: It hasn’t fully sunk in yet that Jen, Julio, Abby, Rajiv, and Pratik are really gone. I got carried away with Orientation things just as their departure dates were nearing, and so the goodbyes felt more clumsy and stilted and rushed than I would have liked. We have spent so much time together and been through so much (a ton of communal processing has been essential to functioning here) and I know that when the space of the absence finally solidifies, I’ll really miss them a lot. I know it sounds cliché, but being here together was a unique and incredible opportunity for us all to form some quality friendships. Our studies and interests are so varied, and only a few of us had any knowledge of the others existence before this summer, so I can’t help but assume that we otherwise would never have been introduced. It’s funny how sometimes you have to travel around the world to meet your next-door neighbors. I look forward to more good times at Penn.

Writing: it was strange to be away for so long. My head felt clogged and time seemed to stop when my fingers weren’t hitting the keys daily. I’m glad that it has become such a comforting habit to discharge my thoughts each night, but I worry that things will only get busier with the start of classes. I’m trying to hold firm in my resolve to document, especially because it seems more important now than ever.

Jam Session: Wednesday night, after ret urning from a game of Quizzo at Bull and Bush, Seb, Daniel and I stumbled upon a spontaneous German party in Daniel’s suite. Pat, his older hippy throwback social worker Texan roommate, was present with a guitar, and one thing leading to another, we ended up circled around the strummer and the drummer, joined occasionally by melodies from Daniel’s heavy breathing harmonica. A few hours of eyes closed chair swaying, punctuated by loud German conversation, and we were all feeling that feeling of feeling. It was like someone had sprinkled magic dust around the perimeter of our clustered chairs and if we weren’t there, we weren’t anywhere – which is to say, we’re in Botswana.

I’ve written now for pages and I don’t feel like I’ve scratched the surface of things (sorry, it’s an itch that is too big), but I also think I should give it a rest. I’m shaking things up and sipping them slowly and I still can’t decide whether I’ve perfected the recipe of my thoughts. More later when the ratios are right.