A Slow Revival
For the past two months I've been running around trying to get my life into an order I can live with. Its involved long queues. Long queues at schools, hospitals, law offices, embassies, travel agencies, forex bureaus, airports and banks. You name the line and my footprints are there. Feeling is actually only now returning to my feet. By tomorrow, the swelling might have even gone down.
You'd think, at the end of that I'd have a nice reward waiting for me. A triple chocolate sundae with choclate sauce, chocolate sprinkles....you get the point. For one girl, ok fine, one young woman to do what I did was/is amazing. So amazing I'll even admit without anyone needing to resort to torture that I wanted my whole clan at the airport when I was leaving. Traditional dress, maybe millet and eshabwe even though I don't eat millet and eshabwe. Crying babies, smelly people. an overfull suitcase. Some singing, alot of dancing.
What I got instead was me waving to my mother before she drove off into the sunrise becuase it was 4 freakin 30 am. Then I had to fidget my huge suitcase into the airport and get it checked in, thanking the Lord when I wasn't overweight and then I was alone.
But I'm not complaining. I saw the young adults who were travelling with their parents and then I was grateful to the higher power that my mother couldn't be bothered to torment me anymore. Who wants to starts university by first being thoroughly embarrsed in front of...... well everyone.
......"Junior, hurry up!"... "Anna, stop pulling up your jeans. You're the one who insisted on low cut jeans. Look at her daddy, Mbu she wanted to look cool. Mbu skinny jeans. On those legs, ha!.... Leave them!"
That mortification might have killed me. No, literally. After a lifetime as a klutz, I can only take so much more embarrassement before I will keel over and die.
...And then I was here, in Port Elizabeth. This place is amzing once you get over the fact of thugs, racisms and SIDA. I can picture myself doing lots of studying on the beach. Yeah, plenty of studying. My cousin (so I didn't really travel alone) thinks we should set up a boda boda service. This is based on the fact that in three weeks she has walked more than she usually walks in a year. Our legs are beginning to have a distinct resemblance to Serena Williams'.
....I miss UG. I miss Record TV and making fun of brides on the I do show. And I miss bodas and matatus. i do not miss the dust. i can actually breathe here. thats nice. I miss rolexes. I miss the stench of Katwe. I miss Entebbe like a fat kid on a diet would miss cake. I am ready to come home but I don't get to. Not until december.
I'll have to drown my sorrows at McDonalds. gain an extra kilo. or ten.
c'est l a vie
For the past two months I've been running around trying to get my life into an order I can live with. Its involved long queues. Long queues at schools, hospitals, law offices, embassies, travel agencies, forex bureaus, airports and banks. You name the line and my footprints are there. Feeling is actually only now returning to my feet. By tomorrow, the swelling might have even gone down.
You'd think, at the end of that I'd have a nice reward waiting for me. A triple chocolate sundae with choclate sauce, chocolate sprinkles....you get the point. For one girl, ok fine, one young woman to do what I did was/is amazing. So amazing I'll even admit without anyone needing to resort to torture that I wanted my whole clan at the airport when I was leaving. Traditional dress, maybe millet and eshabwe even though I don't eat millet and eshabwe. Crying babies, smelly people. an overfull suitcase. Some singing, alot of dancing.
What I got instead was me waving to my mother before she drove off into the sunrise becuase it was 4 freakin 30 am. Then I had to fidget my huge suitcase into the airport and get it checked in, thanking the Lord when I wasn't overweight and then I was alone.
But I'm not complaining. I saw the young adults who were travelling with their parents and then I was grateful to the higher power that my mother couldn't be bothered to torment me anymore. Who wants to starts university by first being thoroughly embarrsed in front of...... well everyone.
......"Junior, hurry up!"... "Anna, stop pulling up your jeans. You're the one who insisted on low cut jeans. Look at her daddy, Mbu she wanted to look cool. Mbu skinny jeans. On those legs, ha!.... Leave them!"
That mortification might have killed me. No, literally. After a lifetime as a klutz, I can only take so much more embarrassement before I will keel over and die.
...And then I was here, in Port Elizabeth. This place is amzing once you get over the fact of thugs, racisms and SIDA. I can picture myself doing lots of studying on the beach. Yeah, plenty of studying. My cousin (so I didn't really travel alone) thinks we should set up a boda boda service. This is based on the fact that in three weeks she has walked more than she usually walks in a year. Our legs are beginning to have a distinct resemblance to Serena Williams'.
....I miss UG. I miss Record TV and making fun of brides on the I do show. And I miss bodas and matatus. i do not miss the dust. i can actually breathe here. thats nice. I miss rolexes. I miss the stench of Katwe. I miss Entebbe like a fat kid on a diet would miss cake. I am ready to come home but I don't get to. Not until december.
I'll have to drown my sorrows at McDonalds. gain an extra kilo. or ten.
c'est l a vie
2 comments
About time you showed back here..i was gettin my whip ready..enjoy PE..
REPLYfinally you show! if you see your face on a milk carton, please ignore. its all good now.
REPLYTake a moment, close your eyes and let it sink in; queues or not, you.are.in.amazingly beautiful.PORT ELIZABETH.
good to hear from you and wishing you all the best.
Josh, do you sleep at all these days?
hi! thanks for commenting. I'm always open to new ideas. I can't wait to hear yours.