Giza

"She's out on the highway She's got a homemade sign it says Go ahead try to figure out What my future looks like I don't want to live my life like a story Always thinkin I could've been something Don't run along side and control me Just film away and let me be At ease I, I feel fine I'll go on, I move on There's something so divided Don't worry about me I'll be fine Don't live your life for me or for anyone Live your life as if you're one Live your life as if you're one And find quiet, it's awful quiet " -Tegan and Sara

November 9, 2009

My loneliness led me into the trap that is Giza. I love my villagers but in many ways they are a poor replacement for who I used to be. I used to be the oldest sibling of a big American family with amazing parents. Beautiful is a word that often gets thrown in with my name. "Beautiful Brie", people don't care if it is factual as long as they like the alliteration. I have been teaching William English and even he has picked up putting the two words together, although to be fair Juster has always done it, so he probably just picked it up from her. We have a sad conversation though (in Swahili, his english sucks), "What will happen when you leave?" He asks. "Someone else will come." I say. "But they will not be you." "No, they won't be." I agree. "What am I supposed to do?" "The same thing you always did." I answer. "Africa will call you back." He confidently says. "I know." I say equally as confidently. (I think Africa has it's own way of making phone calls to those who feel it within themselves.) "But you cannot leave, because we love you." "I know." I say (I can't say anything else.) But I wonder if Peace Corps really brings cultures together or rips them apart. I wonder about who I used to be, who I will never be again. I remember the beautiful, charismatic, funny, elite group of six people that somehow I got randomly added to. That I get the privilege to call my family, how I have no idea, but I got extremely lucky. I remember that I used to have best friends I spoke English with. I used to look forward to the acadamy awards and a hot shower. For the last decade, I used to have some sort of boyfriend. I used to think I was scholarly, I loved Art History and Shakespeare. I used to be a Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority sister and wear black high heels and red lipstick, I used to revise grants to provide aid to Sudan, I drove a car, I drank wine, I used to sit in Powell's Books and dream about all the places I might go... I used to have a million terms to define myself. I am not sure that there are any anymore.

I thought I liked the company of myself, which I guess I have grown tired of- turns out I am no as cool/interesting/fun as I thought. That is where Kimulimuli comes in and I get a bit insane believing that he is fluent in both Kiswahili and English (which funnily enough he sort of is). In Tanzania, he is my family and like all animals he loves me unconditionally. I guess that is why I fell for Giza. I needed to feel a bit more love in my life.

I was visiting my Bibi (grandmother) whose cat has just had kittens. "Five!" I exclaimed. "Yes, but that one will die." She said matter of factly pointing to the little mostly black one with one orange toe and and orange stripe down her nose. "Why?" I asked looking at the healthy kitten. She looked at me like this was a stupid question, "Because everybody knows that black cats are inhabited by witches." Oh yeah, right. I forgot. I beg her to keep the little black one for me, but first Mzee Ngoda must come and do some sort of exorcism on it, so we are sure that it is safe. (Now that she lives with my I am not sure that the exorcism was entirely effective...) But she is allowed to go live with me. If there is an animal more pathetic than Kimulimuli, it has to be Giza. Unlike Muli, she is beautiful, but she drives us both crazy. She is too eager, constantly meowing, and much to both Muli and my dismay is afraid of thunderstorms. She takes turns following one of us around like we are both gods. Muli has zero patience for her and as I trip over her for the 28th time that day I have minimal patience. But some how as I cuddle her and she mews so pathetically, I love her. My Buddhist principle reminds me you must have the darkness to have the light. Kimulimuli literally means firefly, but also to light up or illuminate. Giza means darkness, obscurity or gloom. Now I am stuck with them- my African cat family. At least Kimulimuli earns his keep with his exceptional hunting skills. We shall see if Giz ever amounts to anything besides being small and obsessed with me. Muli and Giz try to make me feel less alone, but what can you really expect from two scrawny African cats?