I Don't Trail

There is a phrase you hear a lot in expat life and that is trailing spouse. The trailing spouse is the person who followed the person whose job required him or her to move to a new place. I am a trailing spouse because we came here for Mr. Deep's job. 

But I don't feel like a trailer. 

I know that some people struggle with their role as a trailing spouse. Hopefully this post doesn't make it sound like I am minimizing their challenges. I subscribe to the walk a mile (or a kilometre) in my shoes mentality. I have no way to know what circumstances led other people to end up trailing or whether or not they wanted to trail in the first place. I only know my situation and I will describe it so you can understand it. There are circumstances which have led to my acceptance and love for my role as the spouse who came here with someone who had a job. 

First, I was part of the decision. Not just the decision to move to South Africa but the decision made years and years ago that we would be mobile and willing to move for a job opportunity. Mr. Deep and I knew that the company he worked for in the U.S.A. was global and that one of the best ways to move up the ladder was to accept an overseas assignment. Mr. Deep was asked on several occasions if he would be open to moving to another country. We discussed it and for both of us our answer was a resounding yes. 

A few relocation opportunities came Mr. Deep's way over the years but nothing ever came to fruition. Meanwhile, I was working. I had a good job. I was well respected, I liked the organization I worked for. I made good money. But I also felt trapped. I had worked for the same company for nearly 20 years. I was very busy with work, business travel and such and I felt like my life was passing me by. I was constantly in a rush at both work and at home. I thought about other types of work that I could do but I was too scared to do something that would cause me to earn less money.  I saw no way out other than having someone take me away and give me an excuse to start over. And then Mr. Deep told me he had a job opportunity in South Africa.

I have written before about that conversation but what I may have left out is that I told Mr. Deep (and I'm pretty sure my teeth were gritted at the time and I may have even poked him repeatedly in the chest with my index finger while speaking) "whatever you need to do to make this happen, you do it. I want to move to South Africa." I realize this makes me sound like a combination of Claire Underwood and Veruca Salt. But the way I saw it, Mr. Deep was giving me the chance to have a whole new life and I desperately wanted it. 

It wasn't about not wanting to work anymore because at the time of this conversation I didn't even know that wouldn't be able to work in South Africa. But I was attracted to the idea of living somewhere else, filling my days in new ways, meeting new people, trying new food and living in a different house. I wanted to push the reset button on my life.

The other thing that makes my situation different from others is that we don't have any kids. And let's all be honest: EVERYTHING in life is easier when you don't have kids. Except when you're old and you die and no one notices for days. But that's a blog post for another time. In our new life in South Africa I don't have to worry about whether any kids are happy or adjusting and I don't have to worry about finding schools and all of that. Of course I care about Mr. Deep's happiness but I don't care about it any more or any less than I ever have no matter where we have lived. It's the same as it ever was. And I believe Mr. Deep is pretty happy. 

Sure, I miss earning my own money. No wait, I miss having my own money, I don't necessarily miss the part where you have to go and earn it.  But Mr. Deep has never once made me feel like a lesser part of our relationship. He makes no comments when I spend money, he doesn't come home from work and ask in a sarcastic manner what I did all day. He doesn't roll his eyes when he comes home and I am in my grubby gym clothes sporting obviously newly polished nails. You might think well good he shouldn't act in a disparaging manner but I can't say that I would be so kind to the non-worker. In fact I know I would not be. There was a point in our lives when Mr. Deep didn't work and I did spend plenty of time eye rolling and worse.

Yes, there are things that I gave up in order to move here. We both did. I was the one who gave up my job but we both have friends and family who we miss seeing and spending time with. But as the "spouse who came along for the ride" I have gained so much more than I have lost. Having said all this when Mr. Deep tells me it is time to move away from here he will have to drag me kicking and screaming. 

"Maybe it's true that we don't know what we have until we lose it. But it's also true that we don't know what we're missing until we find it." - unknown.

I've Got Issues

When I first began writing this blog I planned to write about two main topics, our new life in South Africa and my dramatically changed life due to no longer working.

Since then pretty much every post has been about our lives and experiences in South Africa. I only mention my not working here and there. There's a reason for this. It's amazing not to work. Sorry but it's true. I have drafted many posts that remain unpublished about my non working life and it always comes out sounding like bragging. It would be like if I wrote a post about how I never have to clean my own house. No one wants to hear it. People do not want to sit in a cubicle at work and read a blog post about how great it is not to be working. So I have avoided the topic.

But now that I've broached the subject, I want to focus on something that I've learned about myself during this time of not working. When I worked, as outlined in this post, I blamed most of my problems in life on my job. If I was short with my husband it was because I was stressed out at work, if I didn't make it to the gym it's because I was too busy at work, if I declined a social invitation it was because I was too tired from work. You get the idea.

Now there is no work but yet most of my problems are still with me  (except my hair has grown back so that's a good thing.) Yes work exacerbated certain traits or behaviors but my issues remain.  One of the things that I have realized about myself is that I am often annoyed. I'm not angry - there is a difference. But I am easily annoyed.

In the draft version of this post I listed an entire paragraph of things that annoy me. But when Mr. Deep, my editor, read it he said it sounded like venting. So I will only list five things that annoy me here. If you wish to have the full and original list just let me know and I will send to you. 

I'm annoyed when people are late. I'm annoyed when I'm late. I'm annoyed by dogs that bark constantly. I'm annoyed when Mr. Deep cooks food and uses way more plates, pots, pans and utensils than necessary and then leaves all of the above for me to clean up. And, I'm annoyed by people who are rude to waitstaff. 

Living in South Africa makes me more aware of my annoyance problem as I am aware that most of the things that I let annoy me are ridiculous. While I am muttering under my breath about how stupid I think those baby on board signs that people hang on their car windows are, other people, who have real problems, such as no money and no food seem to be genuinely not annoyed and jolly. How do they do it? 

I asked Charles about it because I know, as a car guard, people are rude to him all the time. And if someone is rude to me I find it (you guessed it) annoying. He said that rudeness doesn't bother him. I pushed him on it because how can it not be annoying (and painful) when people treat you poorly and talk down to you when you are just trying to eek out a living and survive? He told me that once he said good morning to a guy and the man replied "F%&# you." I'm sorry what? I would be so annoyed. No, I'd be furious. I would probably reply "F%&# you too." As an aside I would make a horrible car guard. Charles said when people are rude to him he says, "thank you God. I see you." What does that even mean? How does that work? I have a lot to learn.

Toyless

I am going to start this post off by reminding you, just in case you've forgotten, that I know nothing about children. All that I do know comes from two sources. First, once I was a child (although admittedly that was a very long time ago.) Second, I have been volunteering at the Diepsloot Combined School and working with students in grades three and four for over a year. 

Recently, I went over to Gift's house to spend a few hours with Gift and Beatrice. Gift's nephew (his brother's son), a five year old boy named Wayne, was there.  

I couldn't help but notice a few things about Wayne and the situation that were so different than other families with children that I have visited and observed. 

First, Wayne doesn't have any toys. There was a rubber ball outside that I assume is his but that is all.

Second, Wayne was not the center of attention. The adults talked and did their thing and Wayne was just....well he was just there. He was not neglected. He was not running out into traffic or putting a plastic bag over his head but no one really talked to him, played with him or was too concerned with him. When Beatrice made him a snack he went a got a small chair (so he may not have toys but he does have his own small chair) and sat quietly at the table and ate.  When she walked to the shop he went along with her. When we went outside, he came with us. 

Third, Wayne did not whine, complain, cry or fuss. He was perfectly behaved. 

Fourth, Wayne was put to work. When the adults drank tea, each of them, one by one as they finished, summoned Wayne to collect the empty mug and put it in the sink. And he did it.

Like so many things that I see in South Africa, I really don't know what to make of this. It was so different than my other experiences of being around people and their children. Usually, children are constantly interrupting adults who are trying to have an adult conversation. Adults will say things to children like, "I am talking to Mrs. Deep right now Myrtle, please wait a moment and then I'll get you a sippy cup of juice." And then the mother will turn back to the other adult and say, "I'm sorry about how Myrtle is acting. She missed her nap today." 

Often when you are visiting a home with children in it, a child will come up to you and push a toy into your face in an effort to get you to play. There is also normally some amount of crying, whining or even a full on melt down. And usually when you are in a house where kids live, toys are strewn about everywhere. 

On the one hand my reaction to Wayne's situations is this. Oh my God this child has no toys. Isn't play an important part of child development? Won't he be behind with his motor and other skills when he gets to school? Is his childhood completely joyless? 

But then there is a part of me that I thinks this. Many kids have tons of toys. They have so many toys that they don't even know what they have. Are kids with toys smarter, happier, better adjusted or on a path to a brighter future? Did Albert Einstein have any toys as a kid? Did Nelson Mandela? I read Long Walk to Freedom and I don't recall toys being mentioned. Most of our grandparents and great grandparents probably had very few if any toys. Many kids today, in my opinion, are spending their childhoods being entertained every minute either by someone or something. Is that really the best way to grow up?  

Of course it important for children (and adults) to know that they are loved and it is important that they are cared for properly. But how much attention is the right amount?  Is it better to be showered with attention as a young person? Or, do you end up feeling less entitled and less frustrated by what life throws at you if you grow up the way that Wayne is? Isn't one of the hardest parts of being an adult that people rarely fuss over you? Adults don't spend time telling other adults how smart, cute or funny they are. Yes, at work someone may say, "great job in the meeting today." Or one adult may say to another, "have you been working out? Your butt is looking very firm and high." But accolades and adoration are rare once you become an adult. 

I don't know the answers to these questions. And I try hard not to judge. I don't judge the parents who smother their children with attention, toys and bounce houses (that's not true I draw the line at bounce houses but only because I am repeatedly traumatized by their very existence.) And I don't judge Wayne's family either. But last week I did take Beatrice and Wayne to to the zoo just in case joy and play are an essential part of childhood. 

Wayne at the zoo. And while he doesn't look particularly thrilled in this photo, trust me, he had fun. 

The Last of Zambia

This will be my last post about our recent trip to Botswana and Zambia. I had so many photos and stories and it took me a while to sort through it all. Hopefully I didn't bore you. Now, it's just a few more memories and some photos that I never shared before I leave this topic.

On our last morning in Zambia, Mr. Deep tried again to catch a tiger fish. He was not successful, but the guide he was with did catch one so at least I can share a photo with you.

Mr. Deep did have some great last wildlife sightings while he was out for that final fishing trip.

On our last night in Zambia during our final boat ride on the Zambezi, there was a special surprise. When we rounded a bend at sunset there was a bar set up (always a happy surprise to see) and the staff were all there to welcome us and offer us a happy hour by sunset. It was so pretty and I took a ton of photos of the same scene but played around with different camera settings. 

And here is one last photo from Zambia. The Birdman and me looking happy and relaxed. Until next time Zambia. 

Oh The Stories We Could Tell

"Talking to myself again wondering if this traveling is good. Is there something better doing we'd be doing if we could? But oh the stories we could tell."

 - Everly Brothers

These are the song lyrics I chose to quote in my high school yearbook. They appear under my photo. At the time, I credited the lyrics to Tom Petty because I had no idea that he didn't write the song. But in fairness to me I graduated high school before the Internet was invented so how was I supposed to know it was actually the Everly Brothers?

While we were in Zambia we had the unique opportunity to hear two tall tales. In the evening, after the afternoon activity and before dinner, there was a campfire at each of the Wilderness Safari Camps. After a few visits to the campfire, Mr. Deep and I noticed that we seemed to be the only guests enjoying it. This was understandable when we were the only guests at Jacana but a little strange when we arrived at Toka Leya. Maybe none of the other guests knew there was a campfire? Or maybe they just didn't care? But at Toka Leyo Mr. Deep and I were the lone regulars at the campfire or, as it's referred to when you are out in the African wilderness, bush TV.

On our second to last night at Toka Leya, Mr. Deep and I were sitting (alone of course) around the bush TV when one of the managers of Toka Leya came down to talk with us. Maybe he was intrigued and wanted to meet the couple who actually sat around the campfire? The manager's name was Stephen which you will remember is also Mr. Deep's name. We ended up chatting with Stephen for a while and that's when he told us these two stories. 

A very cool fire pit. I mean bush TV. 

Stephen and Stephen 

The first story was told to Stephen when he was young by a friend of his father. The friend had been working far away from his village making and selling charcoal. As an aside when we were out driving with Godfrey we had seen men on bikes with baskets full of charcoal so going to the forest and making charcoal to sell is a thing.  

While making charcoal the man began to feel ill. He realized based on his symptoms that he had malaria and so he decided to try to make the long walk back to his village before the illness worsened. It was a long walk of about seven hours. After about three hours of walking the man spotted a herd of elephants along the path. He was nervous because elephants can be unpredictable. Also by this time he was feeling very sick and weak and although he cannot be sure what happened next he thinks he fainted from his illness. 

When the man woke up he was confused and unsure where we was. He was no longer on the path and instead was lying the shade of a large tree. He also could not find the bag he had been carrying. After a few minutes of searching for his bag he finally spotted it way up high hanging from a tree branch. The bag was hanging too high for the man to reach.

The man continued on his journey home. When he arrived he was very sick. He finally began to recover he told his family the story about what had happened to him on the path. The man said that as the herd of elephants was the last thing he remembered seeing, that he believed that while he was passed out that an elephant picked him up and carried him under the tree setting him down in the shade. He also believed that an elephant had hung his bag high in the tree to keep it safe. The man's family was skeptical of this story but when he was strong enough they accompanied him to the tree and saw his bag hanging higher than a man would be capable of placing it. It was then that they began to believe the man's story. In order to retrieve the bag, someone had to climb up the tree and cut down the branch from which the bag hung. 

The second story was about Moto Moto. You may recognize this name as the name of the hippo in the movie Madagascar. I didn't because I haven't seen a Disney movie since the 70's. Anyway, Moto Moto as he came to be known (he was named by guests at Toka Leya) was a young male hippo living near Toka Leya but struggling to survive. Male hippos can be very cruel to each other and the staff working at the lodge often noticed Moto Moto had scars and cuts caused by fighting with the other male hippos. 

Moto Moto was very smart though. He began to notice that the other male hippos were afraid of humans and would not venture near the lodge and so he carved out a territory for himself and made the beach on the banks of the Zambezi next to the lodge his home. He often slept underneath the Toka Leya lodge deck. Under the deck was a perfect hippo home because hippos have very sensitive skin and cannot stay out in the hot daytime sun for too long. After about four years of living at the lodge Moto Moto was big and strong and he reentered the hippo pod as a dominant male. Sometimes the Toka Leya staff still spot Moto Moto out swimming and walking with his pod. 

Mr. Deep snapped some photos of hippos out of the water. A very rare thing to see! Could one of these guys be
Moto Moto?