winterlife

Life is different now...

So, I’m sitting in a worn out old couch, in a basement appartment; yellow walls, a map of Africa, the only thing on the wall, a kidogo (small) tv that doesn’t work, the doormat gathered in a lump in from of the door to hopefully prevent mice from finding their way in. I like it though. The other girls doing the dishes in the tiny kitchen with a gas stove, about 4 plates, 3 cups, 2 forks, and if you are lucky, a knife might popp up. Lucy, Emily and Staiz just left after eating dinner with us and drinking tea.

I honestly don’t really know what to write this time. This week has somehow been the longest in my life ever. Adapting to kenyan culture again has been hard. I’ve never felt so white in my whole life. Every day I feel excluded in some way, and during the same day I’m smiling thinking that this is an experience I won’t forget. But, hey one thing I know, it takes time to grow roots, it takes time getting to know people, and man you feel vulnerable. Stripped from everything you are, no family, friends, things… I’m just me, I cant prove anything, they dont know who I am at home, who I am with my friends. It’s not just a vacation, this is everyday life. Guess this is what it feels like to move to a different country. Hey, you’ve gotta invest, it won’t feel like home by just klapping your hands.

Coming back has been hard, cause I wasn’t prepared for it to be hard. And the adventurer in me isn’t just satisfied with doing everything we did last time. I constantly feel this urge to challenge myself, and I just have to experience new things, meet new people. And some days are just flat out boring and normal.

So, guess that’s the situation report from Kenya. Being an international social worker isn’t all that glorious. Sometimes it’s sitting listening to coldplay on a mac with three other white chics. That’s monday evening. Tuesday might be another story though. You never know. It might be a wild hunt in the kitchen for Nelson, the mouse that is living under my couch, it might be practicing swahili with the shop keeper, might be walking around the compound getting a hug from a random guy called Ben that thinks you look smart. And when it’s time to og to bed I crawl under my mosquito nett listening to a disturbing mix of prayers called out from the mosque and the excited churchgoers that have an allnight prayer session.

Tilbake...

Nå sitter jeg å prøver å jobbe mens,

En liten gutt akkurat har fått en trombone fra en dame som donerte den fra Norge,

jeg KAN IKKE høre meg selv tenke!

Jeg sitter på en stål stol som bulker opp hver gang jeg bevger meg litt...

Jeg kan ikke puste fordi det er så mye støv i luften...

Men, ellers har jeg det fint:)

Sommeren passerer sånn den gjør i Norge med leierer, hjemmebesøk, bading og div aktiviteter som inneholder solen, uteliv, friluft og det vakkre norge. Og, jeg er takknemlig. Men, tross det behaglige livet her hjemme, flakser tankene til de jeg tilbrakte så mange månder, dager og timer med.. Og jeg må innrømme at det felles noen tårer av savn... for gode og vonde ting. Tårer for de der ute som ikke har noen ting. Jeg lurer på om de vil klare seg, om de har mat, sko.. om de får gå på skole, om de er trygge. Og jeg gledegruer meg til å dra tilbake. I mellomtiden ser jeg på disse bildene, og prøver å være der jeg er. Leve med alle inntrykk og opplevelser som livet har å by på. Leve med det som har skjedd, det som kommer til å skje, og det som skjer akkurat nå, her jeg er med meg selv og dagene som går...

There Is So Much More

: Brett Dennen

When I heard the news, my heart fell on the floor

I was on a plane, on my way to Baltimore

In these troubled times it’s hard enough as is

My soul has known a better life than this

I wondered how so many could be in so much pain

While others don’t seem to feel a thing

And then I curse my whiteness and I get so damn depressed

In a world of suffering why should I be so blessed

I heard about a woman who lives in Colorado

She built a monument of sorrow behind her garage door

Where every day she prays for all whom are born

And all who souls are passed on

Sometimes my trouble gets so thick

I can’t see how I’m gonna get through it

But then I would rather be stuck up in a tree

Then be tied to it

I don’t feel comfortable with the way that my clothes fit

I can’t get used to my body’s limits

I got some fancy shoes to try and kick away these blues

They cost a lot of money, but they aren’t worth a thing

I want to free my feet from the broken glass and concrete

I need to get out of this city

Lay upon the ground stare a whole in the sky

Wondering where I go when I die

When I die

Second thoughts...

Okay, so I'm back in Norway for the time being, and several questions arise the moment of my landing:

How can everything be so extremely organized?

Where are all the people?

Why do people only sit inside their houses?

Why are people so extremely occupied with what color they are gonna paint their bedroom and if it will match the curtains? 

Why do people call 5 cars on the road a traffic jam?

Why do we let the water run when we are not using it?

Where did all the dust go?

Why do we even have to wash our clothes when they cant possibly get dirty here?

Why is our lake flooding when there is a drought on the other side of the world?

Do we really need these big houses?

When will I ever have time to wear all the clothes in my closet?

What sticks on a sticky fly paper?

My time in Kenya is running out. For weeks now I’ve not aloud myself to think about it, afraid that I wont be able to enjoy the last weeks... but, truth is, only a few days left at work. Hard to leave something that you feel you’ve just started, or leave stuff you dont know if anybody else will finish. Leave projects I believe in and long to continue doing. Leave the life I’ve been living here.

How are we humans suppose to handle being able to fly half way across the world, live in a totally different country, and culture, and then suddenly fly back and keep on going. Ain’t gonna happen... we change. Experiences affect us. We mold.. leave something here, something else there. Gather something over there, pick up something else right here. Its like these new images, new feelings, new faces are stuck on me. I feel like a sticky paper that is suppose to kill flies, everything is just sticking lately. Maybe cause I know its gonna end. Like I wanna hold on to it, cause I dont know if I’ll ever experience it again.

But, its like this with all things in life. The days and hours pass... and some sticks, some doesn’t, and we forget.. we can’t possibly remember everything.

But, right now, I want to remember it all. Be able to feel everything I’ve been feeling here. All at once.

But, I wont, I have to be satisfied with experiencing in the moment. No matter how much I remember, how many pictures I take, how many wooden elephants I bring home, I have to let it go and move on. Some faces I will remember, some conversations, some incidents. I wish I could carry them all. Luckily our braincapacity is somewhat big enough to remember, to choose what we want to bring with us in the days to come. Luckily, we are not rocks, but formable, changeable, and I know that what I’ve experienced here has changed me, and somehow then, I don’t need to struggle to remember, or force to fit it in my suitcase back home. The changes are here to stay and will always remind me of what I’ve seen, what I’ve felt, what I’ve been able to be a part of, music I’ve heard, dancemoves I’ve seen, foods I’ve tasted, work I’ve done, and Places and People I’ve come to Love...