.now/&then

Sometimes I feel like Tchad was a dream.  Or a nightmare.  Or a an intricate, laughing, crying mix of both. 

Still, I am just this morning stopping to register the fact that I am literally on the other side of the world.  I am geographically, spiritually, emotionally, physically in a completely different place than I was a month ago.

A month ago....

I was walking barefoot down muddy sandy village paths, tangling my toes in shattered millet stalks and nudging croaking frogs from beneath my feet. 

now....

I am crunching through crispy, crystalline snow with 2 layers of wools socks and XtraTufs or snow boots, kicking clods of frozen snow and gingerly picking my way through the ice covering the porch and driveway.

A month ago.....

I got woken up at 5:30 am to screeching rooster calls, chased hoppety raggedy anne sheep out of the cook shed, threw sticks at mangy duck families trying to steal the peanuts drying in the sun, and watched goats meander through the compound.

now.....

I stand outside on the log front porch, cup of steaming coffee in my hands, watching a moose and her calf kicking up snow and dancing in and out of the spruce trees.  I look to the left and see an eagle, perched on the top of a tree, his nest an intricate sprawl of woven sticks, half-way down the tree.  I can hear magpies and watch the birds that I don't know the name of flitting in skittishly to peck at bread crumbs and bits of salmon. 

A month ago....

I was queen of pediatrics, comfortable and competent, making my way down the line of quinine drips, adjusting and assessing, writing prescriptions, making things happen, giving good care, presenting lectures and communicating in French.  I was creating the hospital paperwork system, wrapping up my Community Health Worker training program, starting a new parasite prevention program with Mebendazole prescription slips for the community, and interviewing leading government officials about women's rights.

now....

I am broke, I am jobless, no one knows me, and I know no one.  I am starting over at the bottom, all my "accomplishments" pressed into a few lines I printed out on nice paper and slid carefully into a black presentation folder.  I clutch this folder and push it forward, pick me, pick me - I'll do a good job for you, I'm a hard worker,  I'm a team player, I'm....... desperate.

A month ago.....

I was eating rice and alum sauce with my fingers, sitting cross-legged on the mat and laughing with my family, for desert crunching handfuls of freshly roasted peanuts between our palms, the skin sliding off and and wafting to the ground like clay-red fairy dust.  I was dreaming of sorbet and dark chocolate and real creamy milk and butter....just a taste of butter.  I was craving potatoes and apples, crisp fresh perfect apples, and planning to eat berries every day. 

now....

Food has become food again, grazing through the cupboard, toasting a slice of bread, slathering it with butter without registering the deep appreciation I thought I would have.  I'm making lentil soup bursting with bright beautiful organic vegetables, forgetting to marvel at the color, the texture, the vibrancy, the fact that I can cook on a stove and put something in the oven.  Now, I'm taking food for granted, forgetting its a miracle, forgetting to savor it, forgetting I had dreamed of it for over a year. 

A month ago.....

I was sleeping outside every night under the stars, perfectly comfortable on my little back packing mattress that was always deflated by morning.  I was trying to soak in the brightness, the clarity, the wisdom of those stars.  I didn't have a sleeping bag, a blanket, only sometimes covering up with a light faded paisley blue tapestry when I woke up at 3 am to the novel and welcome sensation of being cold.  I woke up every morning to the sun on my face and a pack of children screaming and sweeping and beating drums.

Now....

I am sleeping on a cozy comfy queen sized bed, burrowed under a down comforter, soft pink sheets, and a wool blanket if I get colder.  I look up and see rough wooden rafters, peeking my toes out of this sprawling mass of comfort.  I wake up to....darkness, or grey morning light, the window between me and the gradual mild purple orange of the dawning sunrise.  The stars here are just as bright but I have to bundle up to see them, pulling on layers of hoodies and flannel, looking at the end like a clunky overstuffed giant as I stumble onto the porch in the morning, blowing white morning breath from my shivering lips towards the light creeping over the mountains.

A month ago....

I was wearing light flowing cotton skirts, pants full of holes and tears, tank tops and flip flops, scrubs and a stethoscope.  I didn't wear makeup and my face was tan and vibrant and I saw tone creeping into my arms from a long year hauling water from the well for dishes, horse, and bucket showers.

Now.....

I am wearing stacks of layers, taking Vit. D instead of sunshine, and have yet to sink into a fashionable mode of winter attire.  My tan has faded, I am shudderingly white, and I've lost my edge.  In so many ways.  I no longer look and smell like I stumbled out of the Sahel, I look....normal, kind of pasty, the wildness is gone and the make-up is on.  I'm scouring my scanty wardrobe for things that look professional, looked through the Salvation army for black pants, worrying if my boots are nice enough for an interview....wishing I hadn't so zealously thrown out most of my possessions before going to Tchad.

A month ago.....

I was surrounded by friends and people that loved and respected me.  I was enjoying relationships cultivated by a year of sharing intense experiences.  I was swimming in the rice fields with Bronwyn and getting perpetually lost of the motorcycle with Carlie.  I was hugging those girls goodbye the day I left, all of us crying, waving and waving and waving as the plane took off, some of the dearest people in the world to me fading to tiny little toy soldiers, still in Tchad, still surviving, still changing lives.  How could I have just left them? 

Now....

I am lonely.  I'm reminding myself to be brave.  To take risks.  To join things.  To try.  I am overjoyed at the fact that I have found a friend in my neighbor, even though she is moving.

A month ago.....

I was putting NGTs into tiny broken babies, tucking them between Danae's hot water bottles, telling them to know, just know, that someone loved them.  I was squeezing colostrum out of stubborn nipples, trying to keep from screaming at obtuse husbands that refused to let their aging wives have contraception, even though their life was at risk, and breaking down regularly as child after child that I knew or worked with died. 

Now....

It seems like that barely happened.  It seems like I barely cared that much.  It seems like I don't know that person anymore.  Even there faces are fading, the ones I swore I would carry with me always.  The ones I swore that would always be remembered.  The ones I promised as their heart slowed under my hands that I would never forget.  Now, I am forgetting. 

Then and now

Then and now

Now and then

Now and then

And that

is all I have to say

about

that. 


****note: "a month ago" is not quite literal.  think more " a month and a half ago" - but i didn't say that cuz it kinda messes up the literary "flow"