in the yard. The bench off the harbour. I think in all the places I've
lived, I've always found places where I could go to think, to read, to
study, to hide, to just be by myself. There were always parks around,
beautiful shady trees, and just somewhere not too far away to sit and
usually let my brain give a stern talking to my heart. I was having
one of those days and really needed a breather. Unfortunately, I don't
really have somewhere to go. The only space I can really control here
is within the walls of my house and once I leave anything could
happen. Sometimes I walk to a neighbourhood down the street from my
place where there is an amazing line of jasmine trees. I'm tempted to
stop every time I pass these trees, but I doubt the guard would let me
loiter outside someone's private property. I jog occasionally, though
I'm still undecided whether it's a worthwhile pastime. The first time
I went for a run, I felt inspired to run everywhere. People still
stare, but the stares don't really penetrate and if anyone says
anything, you don't really hear. One person I mentioned this to said
that it's probably weirder to see a foreigner walking because no one
will believe that you don't have a vehicle, but when you're running,
people assume that you've decided to run. On the down side, sharing
space with speeding cars is dangerous. I've been a little nervous
walking around recently given the number of pedestrians that have
died. But back to the point, is having a place for myself that
important to me? These days, I seem to think it is.
This got me thinking about what do I need (even if they are actually
wants)? There was an exercise that I remember doing in pre-departure
training about our bottom lines – things that we could not give up. On
the projects and trips I've been on before, living out of my backpack
for a few months was acceptable. I mentioned before how I live
relatively well here. My flat could be more warm and inviting, but I'm
not complaining because I am really fortunate to have hot water and a
shower. Nevertheless, when I visit the houses of other expats working
here, it is unbelievable how you could have everything you could want
at home. I spent one beautiful Saturday afternoon just outside of
Lusaka sitting on a veranda, sipping a mint julep, looking out onto an
open field and giant sky. It is like 1 ply vs. 2 ply toilet paper.
Sometimes to save money we buy 1 ply, but why put up with falling
apart toilet paper when you can pay for 2-ply that works better for
the bottom line ;) It's a balance or so I used to think. I'm afraid
I'm crossing the line into buying things that make me happier even
though I don't really need it. It's not entirely clear to me why I
don't want to cross that imaginary line, but I'm sure it's related to
some deluded idea I have that by giving up the comforts of the Western
world, I will somehow be making the world a fairer place. Yup, I am
deluded.
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