Shopping at the Friend Mart

Gathering the needed supplies from foreign shelves, one discovers you are fresh out of friends. Time to find some:

Two different expat events this weekend afford the opportunity to shop around. From the vantage point of being new, you have no idea the history in the room and it's like crunching through new snow. Your brain whirls and clicks, trying to place this new face with a favorite familiar personality, beginning to zone in on who you feel an affinity with. There's a wonderful mix of kids of all sizes and co-parenting going on, long timers and those who are counting the minutes. Good food, good libations.

There is an expat ritual: the instant networking of geography, and who you know in common from other posts. Playing this part of the game is like a litmus test for your own legitimacy. Satisfied that you have some information to build opinions on, you chat at home about the hits and misses. And all the while you realize, people are doing the same window shopping of you.

Empty Nest

The youngest is leaving this new African nest. In the belly of a 747, but really, on his own wings-- which he's been testing for quite a while now.

I watched him gravitate with ease towards a gaggle of village kids yesterday and negotiate a transportation glitch at night and I've heard the stories of Nile River rapids and bungie jumps and crawling through Egyptian catacombs on his own. I believe he has caught up with his inner wisdom and I am pleased for him. What is a beginning for him is supposed to be an ending for us. Except I know parenting follows the curve of a 3D spiral, not just a circle. So I am not so sad.

I'll just feel a chill without his warm feathers around me.

Bird in a cage

Ah, yes. Back to security bars on the windows; encased by high walls and a 24 hour guard. A safe spot to incubate in for 24 hours and then to peel away at the layers, one at a time. Our house is beautiful, and friendly, and open. The garden is manicured to within an inch of its life...literally. I noticed a lovely clump of flowering shrub the first day and watched the gardener prune off all the foliage and flowers the next morning, down to 4 " of twigs. Moses is his name and he is happy to know I am Christian. Could be because the cook is Muslim, although her name is Christine, which I find ironic.

I am amazed at all that is available here; trying to find the Africa I resonate with, the one I feel "prepared" to live in. My skill set has no need here in the capital city. All the items I brought to be treasures are available here. Makes me feel a bit in a time warp, like the thrice lived in Africa is old world. I can walk to a South African version of K Mart from my house. Electricity seems to be prevalent in this upscale quartier (where government officials live). Restaurants are plentiful and varied. Crazy drivers are about the only recognizable part of the scene.

But I will travel to the north this next week and then discover what Uganda is really like. Meanwhile, it is a very pleasant entry. And my life is remarkable in that I have no I.D. badge defining me and I do not possess a working timepiece...so the days are wonderfully languid and controled by me, not by a to do list. I love it.