rambling, nuff said

Call it what you will - Friday, vendredi, ajumaa, or if you’re Australian, likely a heavy drinkin bloke, and so inclined, POETS-day (Piss Off Early Tomorrow’s Saturday) - the general t.g.i.f.afternoon sense of unbridled, unencumbered, damn satisfying freedom is a universal one. (On a side note, if you happen to conflate all of your known languages on a regular basis, rest assured you’re not alone.)

A long week, I guess more tiring than tumultuous in hindsight. (And electrifying! No, literally. Don’t worry, I’m ok. A little shaken up though.) Sometimes things aren’t as uncomplicated as we want to tell other people they are. Sometimes you feel very comfortable in your own skin (again, literally), but things happen that really knock your self-confidence down a notch. I’ve begun Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer, which is not as gripping as I had imagined, but for what it's worth, a really eloquent inquiry into the nature of human isolation, and pilgrimage, and well truthfully, God. And the humbling effect on the man out of his element, in the arms of unbroken landscapes. (I sure miss the old Mass North Shore and the South Shore! the unassuming façades of the New England coast.) I found this quote by Thoreau from Walden especially moving:

No man ever followed his genius till it misled him. Though the result were bodily weakness, yet perhaps no one can say that the consequences were to be regretted … The greatest gains and values are farthest from being appreciated. We can easily come to doubt if they exist. We soon forget them. They are the highest reality … The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat as intangible and indescribable as the tints of morning or evening. It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched.

(by the way, Blogger operates differently on Macs, and for some reason, I cannot italicize anything. I will try to get on a different computer and fix that. my apologies, of course you probably don't mind)

I suppose a part of what he’s saying is, at the end of the day we sometimes just cannot name the things we’re seeking, nor the things we’ve found. A couple months ago a friend gave me a collection of writings by R. W. Emerson, all in a similar vein. In light of everything at the time, it might have been the most thoughtful present I have ever received (and if you ever read this, that is true, and thank you). I think like man’s relationship to the land and to people, these ideas fade and reappear and morph with age. Sometimes we hunger for the salty, muddy earth more than at other times.

I’m so ready for the next leg of work here, which entails moving out to the regional bases. I should be spending a good amount of time (well, the remainder of my trip … if all goes as planned) in each of 5 regional offices: Matam in the sahelian north; Tambacounda the biggest, barest region of Senegal; Kolda in the “Haute Casamance”; humid and green and coastal Ziguinchor in the “Basse Casamance”; and finally, old landlocked Kaolack not far outside of homebase (not necessarily in that order). I'm aching to make it out to Mali too ... if possible. Thiès is really lovely, but I get this ambiguous feeling here that makes me restless. Maybe it’s events, maybe it's just because I know I’ll be on the move soon.

[A pizza and a bottle or two of red wine later - shared with Cameroonian and Benenois bioengineers and enjoyed all around - what you are reading tonight is, of course, a running document!]

So where was I? Retreating into the great emptiness of l’Afrique d’Ouest? Soon, insh’Allah. I will try add more to this post over the weekend, I suppose it's got a sort of weak, lack of focus.