Never too late

Interesting... in cleaning out my Yahoo inbox, I ran across this blurb that was supposed to become a blog entry at some point but never did. Until now, I guess.

In general, I have the impression that I know myself fairly well, and that I am an active participant in my life’s activities and not only a passive recipient of other people’s decisions and interpretations.

However, I do have a pretty selective memory. When I think back on my experiences in other countries, for example (I guess they are starting to pile up), I tend to remember most vividly the really intriguing people I met, the hospitality that was shown to me, the fascinating new language and culture that I experienced, and then, as an afterthought…I suppose there were a lot of challenging aspects as well.

But when I look back on my travel journals and the series of e-mails that I sent to friends and family, or when I put on my “come on, let’s be really honest” memory enhancer cap, I realize that the challenges were never just afterthoughts. They were right there in the middle of things all the time, bobbing and smoking and aching and emitting all sorts of warning signals and annoying fart-like sounds. My experiences were all the more fascinating and intriguing because I had aligned myself with the powerless, or because my halting Oshivambo or Arabic or Kiswahili produced more laughter than results, or because there was a war brewing a few kilometers away over the border.

And then there was the loneliness. Despite being stuffed with delicious hummus and oshifima and sauerbraten, despite being invited into people’s kitchens and hearts, despite living and working and going to church and whatnot, I never quite got rid of that feeling of being an outsider. And I suppose it might be a little unhealthy if I did.