Sitting Still

Expat life demands exploration. Not knowing how long we'll live in a place forces us to recognize the impermanence of this chapter in our lives. Although the end of our stay is vague and for most of the time unknown, one feels one has to take advantage of just being here. So, in theory, every long weekend should have a plan to do something new.

In Zimbabwe, one has a mental list of must-sees: Kariba Lake, Eastern Highlands, Great Zimbabwe ruins, Mana Pools, Victoria Falls, Hwange, Matopos. The list expands, getting more specific the longer one stays: tiger fishing on the Zambezi, rafting in Nyanga, camping in Chiredzi, horseback riding in Mavuradonha.

And then sometimes plans fall through. C'est la vie. We find ourselves home in Harare for days, no school, no activities, and suddenly, it is a different kind of holiday.

Once I let go of the sense of failure (there are only so many long weekends!), I can relax, sit still, read a book, or do something special with the kids, or go out to dinner with my husband.

As much as I cherish our trips together, they are stressful: planning, packing, paying...the dangerous roads, the remoteness of Africa with your kids. It's work. And sometimes the family just needs down time.

learning a new song

watching a movie and playing games on the iPad

reading a book

playing guitar with Miles

O Beautiful for Spacious Skies Everywhere

Mom wrote me on Inauguration Day, saying how patriotic she felt. I know what she means. I was listening to the news this morning, President Obama's speech, and all the nationalistic songs. It made me feel hopeful. It made me feel excited about the future of America and the world. I was singing "O Beautiful" as I made my lunch, and I was choking myself up! O Beautiful, the World! O Beautiful, Zimbabwe! O Beautiful, four more years of Barack Hussein Obama! O Beautiful, Americans who voted for him.

Because so much of my life, I have not felt proud or hopeful. Sure, there is a lot to be proud of, but living abroad, talking with people from different countries that experienced policies of American leaders in not nice ways, I have felt ashamed. And if I'm honest with myself, it bothered me. I was not a flag-waving American, hand over heart, pledging allegiance with a tear in my eye. I did not feel happy. I felt cynical. I wanted to love where I come from, who my people are, who I am - but the face of America did not represent me or things I believe.

But now? Did you know that healthcare reform passed? Did you hear the President speak with conviction on reducing gun violence? Just yesterday, did the leader of my country say that climate change is a real threat and that the US needs to take the lead in developing clean energy?

But we have always understood that when times change, so must we; that fidelity to our founding principles requires new responses to new challenges; that preserving our individual freedoms ultimately requires collective action.

He is preaching to the choir! Hello, community organizer, my brother! My fellow citizen!

They say expressing gratitude is good for your health and everyone else's, so I'm going to not be critical right now. I'm just going to soak this up and feel grateful. It's a pleasure.

Friends in Foreign Lands

New Year's Eve I found myself, legs draped over a case of beer, in the back-back of a bullet-proof SUV with another American mom on our way to a party. Country music came from an iPhone of a Texan marine sitting in the middle with our husbands. Somehow the American-ness of the talk, the sense of humor, the music, the behavior was surprising. Why? It dawned on me that I hardly ever hang out with groups of Americans. [Granted, the crew we were with have big personalities. American Mom J is brilliant and boisterous. She and the Texan were first on the dance floor, and I promise you, I have never in my life seen a man dance the way he did to "I'm Sexy and I Know It." Must have practiced in front of a mirror for months. I just stood there frozen, peeking through my fingers and giggling.]

Living like we do, here and there, for a few years at a time, we make friends from different places - a lot of them expats, too. This has always been a perk of our transient life, the downside being that we have to say good-bye. It can, in some ways, hinder the development of a friendship (the end will come so why invest too much), but it can just as easily intensify it (no strings attached, no predetermined assumptions about each other to get around). Curiosity about each other is deep - not only is this a unique person like anyone - but they are literally foreign, a totally different upbringing in a totally different environment. What was that like? And amidst that weirdness, finding common interests seems all the more special.

David and I were thinking about the friends we've had since we started this life together. I'm talking about the ones we were close to, the ones we went out with on the weekends, had over for the afternoons into evenings and all nighters for the family. The ones we traveled with, listened to and comforted in hard times, and confided in. They are from England, Belgium, The Netherlands, Austria, Zimbabwe, Germany, Palestine, Jordan, Denmark, Canada, Portugal, Ireland, India, Serbia, Italy, France, South Africa and yes, America.

Some of them are here now, but most of them are far away in other countries, and it will take a lot of luck and money to see each other again. But it's not impossible - take Clem, for example, an Italian who worked with David in Kosovo and Afghanistan has overlapped with us in Jordan and Zimbabwe. Reunions, as always are special - I just spent time with Austrian friend from Zim, Bettina, who had relocated to South Africa. For my 40th, we saw English friends from Jordan, Ben and Caroline, in Oman. Good, special times!

With email, Facebook, blogs and Skype, it's actually possible to keep in touch. So this is to you, friends! We love and miss you, and feel very lucky to have gotten to know you. As always, hoping our paths cross again...xo

Here are some of you...

Holly in Sudan

Ben and Caroline with Emily, Oliver and Alex in Jordan

Bettina with Noah in Zim

Clem, Seb and Olivier in Zim

Chuck, Andrea, Olga and Jovan in Zim

David with Ammar in Jordan

Melissa and Mike in Zim at the traditional handing over of the BBQ/braai to our guests

Jim, Jesse and Maaike in Sierra Leone

Great going away party: me with Joanna, Falastin and Andrea in Jordan

Caroline with Jonathan in Zim

Sheryl in Zim

Katrien with Tarek in Sudan

Cape Town

A romantic get-away - that's what it was.

Cape Town was wonderful, but more than that, it was a whopping five days and four nights, just David and I. Being without the children made me giddy. Have they been that big of a burden? The travel was absurdly easy. No checked luggage. No keeping the kids quiet and safely nearby, off the floors, and out of strangers' way.

Just before landing, we flew over high mountains. I just wasn't expecting it, and then there was the city and the ocean.

A little about Cape Town - it's parked tightly between the Atlantic Ocean and steep Table Mountain at the north end of a hilly peninsula that runs north-south. At the south end is the Cape of Good Hope National Park (penguins, baboons), and along the coastal roads on the east and west sides, there are fishing villages and small touristy towns. Everything was closer together than we expected. It's extremely picturesque - waves crashing against dark, craggy cliffs, narrow beaches, fishing piers. In Kalk Bay, the houses cling to the mountainside and overlook the Indian Ocean - their beach access are cobblestone stair alleys.

view from Cape of Good Hope north on Atlantic side 

We stayed in Muizenberg, 5 minutes north of Kalk, where locals get their beach time, mainly to surf. Surfers ranged from grandparents to elementary school kids, all wearing black wet suits. I've never seen so many surfers.


Our first day, we drove to the Cape, hiked along the cliffs in the sun and strong wind, then ate at a restaurant in Kalk that sits on the rocks so close to the water's edge that spray from the waves crashes on the windows. There's a train that runs right on the beach all the way to the city and east to the wine country. It's so civilized!

see train tracks on beach...view driving south from Kalk Bay

Next day we went to the Stellenbosch wine country and joined a group for the Bike-n-Wine tour, then in the afternoon drove to Franschhoek, another winery village in the mountains. We had our best dinner of the trip at the intimate Terroir restaurant in Kleine Zalze estate that evening.

We drove into the city the next day and booked a hotel there for the night, as it was New Year's Eve and we didn't want to bother with driving back. The Waterfront area where we spent the day had plenty of tourists, but there was never congestion in an unpleasant way. Restaurants were setting up for parties. Sidewalk performers entertained the crowds. There was so much for kids to do there, as well: a big (safe looking) ferris wheel, an aquarium, movie theaters, kiddie amusement parks, boat tours...it was a surprisingly family friendly downtown scene.

Waterfront musicians

I didn't know what to expect with the old colonial hotel, Mt. Nelson, but we started the night off there, having drinks and a light dinner on the veranda. I had the impression that a certain set made a ritual of spending their NYE at the Mt. Nelson - men wearing tuxes shook hands like they hadn't seen each other for a long time. Women wore elegant dresses, and there were teenagers and some children all dressed up.

Being without kids, we thought we'd try more of the nightlife scene on Long Street, so we walked down from the Mt. Nelson. Once we got down to Long, the crowds flowed into the street. It was a younger scene with waiting lines at the clubs. We hung out in a rooftop bar with good music until the Kaapse Klopse mardi gras type parade started.

A word about security - we were cautious, but I felt safe. There were police in florescent bibs every block, but they were just there - not bossing or moving anyone.

We ended up at a party under a big circus tent at the Artscape Theater - the theme appeared to be nautical magic. It was exactly the scene I would have enjoyed 15 years ago...though the DJ was a bit too original. Apparently, women redefining their hairline by shaving up from the forehead (a la Queen Elizabeth) is in style, in addition to the mo-hawk. We old fogies, celebrating David's 40th this time, made it to midnight (then promptly got a cab back to the hotel).

Next morning we watched para-gliders jumping off Signal Hill, drifting like giant windblown seedpods on the updraft from the sea. We met friends for another great meal and wine on the Waterfront and did some shopping before heading back to Kalk and Muizenberg.

Cape Town would be a great place to meet family and friends again. As much as we enjoyed our romantic get-away, it would be fun to go back with the kids.

(Alas, out little snappy camera was stolen from the suitcase, likely in notorious Jo'burg, so no photos except what we took with our phones.)

Vic Falls Adventure Zone

When I went to Victoria Falls last month, there were moments when I was really shocked - from my own actions, from the situation, and from things happening around me. It was different from my usual holiday.

For starters, it was the kids and I and David's sister Tracy and her son Zavion. It was the first time we ever traveled (without David), and we were on a week-long adventure. I'd been hoping for a road trip around Zim since we arrived, and this should have been the moment, but we chickened out at the last minute and flew to avoid the perils of the road.

...not that I like flying. Air Zimbabwe does not inspire feelings of confidence. Yes, irreligious as I am, I was praying as the plane skidded across the atmosphere, clinging to my children while trying not to alarm them.

But that's not exactly different from other trips.



We stayed in the guest cottage of Tracy's old friend Brent who has lived in Victoria Falls most of his life. He owns and operates Adventure Zone, a small company that arranges activities for visitors to VF who need something to do after they've seen the falls. There are game drives, some nice restaurants and shopping, and then there are the more adventurous activities.

Last year when I went to Vic Falls for the first time, I looked down into the gorge and saw people tiny as ants at the bottom, walking on the boulders in the spray of the falls and rafting on the river. It was beautiful. I was bummed. Woe is me - stuck up here with my two kids. I never get to do anything fun anymore... So this time I had to go. It's one of the main activities of Adventure Zone, and Tracy offered to watch the kids.

But then I was scared. I'm a mother. What if something happened to me down there? It has class 5 rapids. We are in rural Africa. I kept thinking of all the stories of what can happen in white water. Horrible stories. Brent assured me it was safe, but I was starting to dread it.

Yet early one morning I found myself hiking down a very sketchy trail/ladder - a true precipice, carved into the side of a cliff face that dropped steeply to distant boulders and a raging river. We were going to go down 20 rapids, all class 4 or 5 rapids. Besides the guide, only one of the 7 kids in my raft had experience paddling. They were pumped up - you've got to experience life! Woohoo! Any time we had a choice of the class 4 or 5 route, they chose the class 5. God, did I feel (and act) my age.

I'm the one clutching the white paddle back by the guide's left knee.

Monstrous water consumes us.

I had been told to expect getting thrown at some point - which was good. I was prepared. While some did pop out more than once (happily? ignorantly?), I only fell out when the whole raft flipped. I had been advised to take a big breath of air when my head came up because of the waves and the not knowing when one would breathe again. That was also good advice. I never let go of the "oh shit" rope. I was under the raft, then got out from it, then maneuvered my way around the raft so I wouldn't get squashed between it and the rock wall we slammed into. The current was really strong. But I was seriously never letting go, and I was first to get back in the raft. I wasn't afraid of the crocs - apparently only babies survive the falls so at that point on the Zambezi they're not yet big enough to pose a threat. That said, we did see a sizable adolescent sunbathing on an island about half way through our trip. No. I was counting down the rapids (i.e. I have survived 7 rapids, only 13 more to go). They had names like Highway to Hell, the Terminator, and my favorite: Gnashing Jaws of Death, but I was also simultaneously wanting the biggest waves because they were incredibly exciting...and man, the relief getting through it!

Since Tracy had already been rafting on the Zambezi, she wanted to do the Swing, which is a lot like Bungee Jumping (something I've never been interested in doing), except instead of diving off a bridge, you jump off a cliff. Imagine a tightrope reaching across a canyon with a cable tied to the middle. The other end of the cable they fasten to a person in a harness...or in this case two people because she talked me into jumping tandem with her.

While we were waiting in the office for the truck to take us to the cliff's edge, I checked my email and discovered that Christina, our childhood neighbor and a best friend of my sister's had died of a heart attack, at 35, leaving 5 daughters and a husband. It was horrible shocking news. What could I do? At first I had this urge to do this crazy jump for Christina as if I were dedicating it to her, being brave for her, grabbing life with both hands for her... I'm not sure. But then I started to wonder if I was fated to learn about this just before jumping in order to stop myself from jumping. Was this a sign? I could have a heart attack. Why risk it? I decided not to do it. I was going to take photos and stay with the kids while Tracy jumped. On the way, Eliza encouraged me - you should do it, Mom! What does a 4-year-old know? Who cares? I decided to do it. Once in a lifetime chance.

Again, I was in shock as they led me to the edge and hooked me to this cable that was literally pulling us down over the edge. It was not as fun as I'd hoped, but it was still exhilarating to have done it. We free fell FOREVER (or 80 meters) before we started to swing out over the gorge. At one point while we were free falling, I started screaming even louder and peddling my feet as if running in air could get it over with faster. Now I know how I would fall from a building if it ever happened...twisting and struggling against gravity like a maniac.

So. Done.

We had gone to the falls, and we went on a beautiful day trip to Chobe National Park in Botswana just over the border which was amazing. It had been a spectacular week, but there was this niggling boat trip we'd been trying to do since our first night there, and by our last night, we were all determined it was going to happen. Brent had a pontoon, but it was stuck up on the river bank due to the low water. I was imagining some other boat pulling it out with a winch or something. But when we arrived, there were about 15 men using logs to just pick it up out of the mud. It took a good long while. My job was keeping the kids away from the water (crocs).

Wart hog ignores "Beware of Crocodiles" sign.

loading cargo

Brent with his daughter

Zavi, Miles and Brent's son

With chairs, chips, drink, women and children loaded on to the boat - we were ready. We didn't have much time before the sun set, but we still managed to see hippos, birds, crocodiles and elephants. It was as we were getting a closer look at a couple of eles that we got stuck on a sandbar. Now that wouldn't have worried me much if I hadn't seen the panic in our host's eyes. It was getting dark. He knew he was going to have to get in the water to push the boat off the bar, and he was worried about the crocs. Once at the exact spot where we'd started our journey, a croc had bitten the end off his kayak. He had been able to paddle fast enough to get to shore - all his limbs in tact, but it has made him a bit more wary of the river's dangers. 

There wasn't much we could do but keep the kids calm and move them into a corner of the boat to shift the weight off the sand bar...while enjoying our drinks and the sunset. It was a relief when we were free and floating and Brent was safely back in the boat, but then the motor wouldn't start. Again, it wouldn't have mattered that much, but we were drifting down river towards the falls. I'm sure that if the motors hadn't started we would have been able to beach ourselves somewhere before reaching the top of one of the largest falls in the world, but one couldn't exactly relax. When the motor finally started, we were all in agreement - ready to head back to the boathouse! That's when it started lightening. We're OK in a metal boat, right? And finally, in the twilight with the boathouse in sight and the storm still in the distance, giving us a great show, Brent's nephew says - look a croc and points down at our feet. I laugh and don't even look, the way you do when you're sure someone's kidding. Tracy looked down and screamed - just under our rail between the pontoon blades, a croc thrashed then swam in front of the boat.

Next morning, on the way to the airport, Brent took us to see his elephants. All of us had an easy ride around the park. It was just what the kids were wanting to do, and it was a perfect way to end our trip. Just standing next to elephants with my kids, feeling the strength of its trunk and sensing its enormous weight...again, it was excitement tinged with a wee bit of anxiety. For a woman newly 40, the trip was an adventure unlike any I've had for a while. It was a good taste, but I'm fine with getting back to the every day adventures of dealing with a couple of wild kids.

Me and Eliza on our way to the airport, Vic Falls style.

April and May Flew

Just three more weeks until we leave for the States, 9 more days of school, and 9 days total til Karol and Jason arrive. Whew, time has flown and continues to fly by. So much going on these days.

Here are photos from April that may or may not have been in the other blog:



In addition to getting ready for visitors and the 7 weeks we'll be traveling around seeing friends and family back in the States, I have been preoccupied with closing up my first year as Vice-Chair of the Parent Teacher Organization at HIS and planning for the next year as Chair. Taking on this role last year was not something I did lightly, but it has been more work and more of a learning and growing experience than I could have imagined. I expect next year to be even more challenging. It's weird having a mildly political position in which there was no election and to feel so vulnerable to disappointing many, while at the same time knowing I will be held responsible for a lot and have some influence as a parent representative. Hope I can do some good and not offend too many people!

At the same time, my two consultancy experiences remind me that I need and should do paid, professional work. Ah, finding the work/life balance - I'll spare you. Bottom line: ideal scenario for now is part-time paid employment that is challenging, provides opportunities for me to learn about and support Zimbabwe, and generates some income.

So with an August job search on the horizon, I have been taking steps to build an incredible PTO team, the likes of which have never been seen! To delegate...that is the goal! Advice?

Mom's Month

Mom and I spent many months  preparing for her to come to Zimbabwe. Now she's already back in the U.S., and I see I'll be on a trans-Atlantic flight in just a month myself.

It really was something different having her here. I have had few opportunities to share my life abroad with friends and family back home, and it is always such a trippy, amazing time - to bridge the old world with the new. Home and history meets the unknown world in which I live. Some of the best times were just talking over a glass of wine by the fire after the kids were asleep.

Nothing beats having your loving mom to spend time with your kids.