Five-Minute Post

The most insiginifanct things come to mind when forced to post in five minutes or less - but at any rate, here goes -

Other than my two near-nervous breakdowns, which occurred before Christmas, one of my only other emotional experiences here in CV was the other day when, while attempting to read in the teachers' lounge over the incessant noise coming from the brand new television set we have (no money for books, but money for televisions and satellite service from Europe), a U2 concert came on. It was not just any concert mind you, but my favorite concert - the U2 performance at the castle outside of Dublin from the earlier part of this decade. It is really the band in its prime.

When I heard the song 'Walk On' I shook a bit in my boots. Goosebumps. I wanted to be far away. Maybe somewhere where the streets have no name. Wait, that's here. Okay, maybe somewhere else where the streets have no name.

Until then, 'Walk On' - even though I know it aches...and you feel you can't go on.

Three-Minute Post

Just finished shaping young minds - an 8 a.m. class, which always sounds terrible, but always goes quite well. I have three more classes today, all after 2 p.m. In the meantime, I am here at my sanctuary, the Internet Cafe, catching up on emails. I really enjoy teaching 10th graders - but 8th graders on the other hand? A special calling indeed. I more cope with the 8th graders - though they can at times be very sweet - but it is fun to discuss ideas, which one is somewhat able to do with a 10th grade English class. Even a 10th grade English class with students who speak a different native tongue.

90 Second Post

My grandfather is in the hospital. Prayers if you're the type. Also struck by some recent, extremely unexpected deaths of men in the prime of their lives at my home church in Nashville. Life is here and now - not somewhere in the future.

Good to realize that today.

Another Five-Minute Post

Ah, the urgency of the five-minute post. Nothing like five minutes left to get the creative juices flowing - or to say something really mundane.

My life has become a series of small tasks - each day composed of such deep thoughts as, 'Where can I go to find a tomato?' Great poetry is bourne from such ruminations.

Speaking of poetry, anyone want to send me a book of Borges poems, with the English translations on the opposing pages? He is one of my favorite poets, but I haven't read anything by him in a very long time. One of my favorite lines of any poem, ever, is when Borges is looking through his apartment at 'things' - all of which must have meant something at some time, though their significance often escapes him. He encounters a pressed leaf in an old book and says, at least in the English translation,

'Monument to an afternoon, undoubtedly unforgettable, now forgotten.'

That is genius.

As for me, where to find that damn tomato?

With love and prayers for your journey.

Cameron

Five Minutes

What can you write in five minutes as the timer winds down at the Internet Cafe? Not much. Or everything. The power of words lies in the fact that one can say so much by saying so little. Not that such will be the case here. But really - that's true. It is why I have always liked spare, sparse writing, rather than overwraught prose where we get three pages discussing how a shrub looks. 'If you see an adjective, kill it,' as Hemmingway said. What an amazing statement. Did you catch that? Amazing statement. Bad joke.

Despite the breeziness of this post, I had one of my yearly 'dark nights of the soul' last night. Much to say about that, but I will just say that there are times when I am overcome by an intense sadness that I have learned to deal with over the years. Such an event used to plunge me into weeks or - dare I say - months of darkness. I now let it wash over me in a couple of days.

I only fear the writing has suffered.

I don't feel I have written anything of merit in two years. When the demons leave, sometimes the angels do, too.

Cultural Disconnect

You know you're in another culture when ...

Every single student in your classroom says that it's a good thing that many Cape Verdean girls in their early teens are pregnant.

To Say This

Forgive the long absence - living in a developing country certainly makes life less episodic. In the first-world, I live and die by computer pixels rather living and dying by something much more flesh-and-blood, something much more tangible. I say that not to make myself sound noble. How I would love to be whiling away the hours in London right now and writing in some cafe, rather than worried about the things I worry about here. How I would love a hot shower and a French film rather than unintellibalbe shouting in the dirt streets outside my window while flushing the toilet with a bucket of water. But life continues to go here - dare I say it is getting easier? I am feeling better most of the time - not at this very moment, but most of the time, which is a real blessing. Prayers are still appreciated, but I am hopeful that all of my problems can be traced back to the anti-malarials. I hope so.

I am also having less pain in the classroom - yesterday, I dismissed a class early, but by in large, the kids seem to both like me while remaining slightly afraid of me. I feel the same - I too like myself and am also slightly frightened. I cannot blame them. I am still not sure what my Peace Corps future holds, but we had a retreat last week with all the Peace Corps teachers which was energizing and mostly fun. If we could have one of those every few months, I might feel better about my time here. Oh, and if I could escape to the States or Europe every few months as well.

One can dream.

Speaking of which, I am planning on visiting Vanessa in England in April. Hoping to head up to a couple places I have never been, including York, which is supposedly one of the most haunted cities in the world. My interest in piqued.