Africa - 1, but James on Comeback

[Note: This was written last night. It's meant as an example of the difficulties of living in a foreign place. Today was a wonderful day, so don't feel the need to respond with sympathy and encouragement and all that. This is not a cry for help. However, care packages are generally accepted and can be addressed to me at the Invisible Children headquarters. They should include, among other things, peanut butter, large volumes of honey, chai latte mix (the 'just add water' kind), thoughtful books, and funny movies. Not movies you think are funny, but ones that I do. Thank you.]

Today Africa wins. Like the kid in high school that you avoid at lunch, Africa wins. Like the dare that you just can't do, Africa wins. Like the conversation that you just can't start, Africa wins.

And She wasn't especially mean today, except for the bacteria that She planted in my stomach and the food that She denied me. Her sun beat on me, Her poverty stretched my weak legs, Her demands cowered me today.

But that is just Her. She is abrasive and quick-tempered. She is needy and demanding. She is only as proud as any other people. Which means, of course, that She is proud.

But perhaps most of all she wins today because, to me, Africa is foreign. Even kindnesses are lost in the faded transliterations of common words. Questions go unanswered, demands sit staring on the table, eyes meet mine with no intention, no hope, of understanding. All day.

Even when at day's end I am lost in my on inadequacy She makes no apologies, no attempts at reconciliation. She just goes on being Africa.

So goodnight Africa. I'll see you in the morning.