the importance of being self-reliant
Not so long ago, on my very first day in a new land - when I was still maintaining this blog - my landlord told me about the tumbu: the African blowfly species that laid their eggs in wet clothing -- which, in a successful human infestation, could cause huge maggot-filled boils to develop on one's skin. The only way to kill its eggs and larvae, he said, was through putting your clothes through extreme heat - through a dryer or through ironing them. But, really, using a dryer in Lilongwe? Really, what did I think I was? A United Nations employee? Close, but no cigar. Eventually, short of being cheap enough not to pay $14 per load for hotel-dried laundry, I wasn't willing to take that chance.
That was the day I learned how to iron my clothes, and learned how to iron them well.
I brought that example up because becoming an "adult" has been an interesting transition. I am paying rent, cooking for myself, running a household and dedicated to making sure that I can pick up the essentials of taking care of myself before going back to school. Yet, I can't quite erase the thought that I could've traveled a little more, maybe had a little more freedom, if I took a different path, but I've got to work with my lease in life.
As the three-month mark for living in a new land, so to speak, hit, my chronic case of wanderlust are starting to coming back. Slowly and insidiously at first, they're permeating my daytime thoughts. It doesn't help that I work with international data; being surrounded by Thai and Nigerien names only makes me want to see the places I read about for myself - even if I know they're conflict-ridden and with US State Department warnings. The latest dream I had was of going back to Asia, of jumping on a plane to go home, and backpacking between Bangkok and Chennai. But, as the morning light hit and the figments of my imagination faded with the darkness, I knew that I wouldn't have that chance to leave for a while. College was a godsend, with the term after a eleven-week period and the possibility of travel always there. I know I can't take advantage of that freedom now.
I'm sure this is happening to a lot of people - grappling with the lustings of an old life, while (mostly) abandoning an old life for a new. There's no question that I love what I do now, that I wouldn't trade what I've learned in the last three months for the world. I'm slowly learning to weave quips of logistics, vaccines and whatnot into my daily conversations, sometimes to hilarious results. But, at the same time, being in a place for (nearly) a term of school with no chance of leaving or seeing something else - for me, that's an odd thought to consider.
