There is a hole. There is something that was a part of me before that I left and is now unfulfilled. It's a hole that's teased when we walk along the ocean or go snorkeling in the reefs. I think I know what's missing but I don't know why. At home- the green mountains, the Appalachian Trail, the coast of Maine, the view over Lake Champlain, the woods- the big, big woods. I knew where to go and what to expect. Therefore, I think I could deposit parts of me in these places. I could leave some of me there, knowing the place would remain and I would return.
But maybe it's largely the separation that has created this hole I now feel – separation in two ways. First, being gone makes me feel the tug. I feel like I'm always slightly pulled, reminded, begged not to forget. There's a small ribbon attached to me and attached to the top of Mt. Chocorua, suspended over the Atlantic. The distance makes me think about the years, thoughts, and physical energy I put into these natural, spirit provoking places. These places are my familiar and I do know them. I do love them.
Second, in Zanzibar, most all seems one to me. Probably because of lack of time, thought and physical energy spent here. But there is less definition here. Often, rules don't apply (at least the ones I know) and things chaotically flow as one. Cars, people, mopeds and bikes all move as one. Families live among each other, together, and continuously move around. People are always cooking, buying, walking. There is less separation between survival, society and nature. This is not to say that every practice is rhythmic and good. During any day, I have to think I am filling this neglected hole as I go and as I do one thing and another. I don't seem to have time to go sit on a secluded coast (at least, it wont be secluded. I wont be alone). I can't designate a day to hike a mountain or to swim and sit by the water. It's go time all the time in Zanzibar.
But maybe people know how to step out of it and I don't. Maybe people who grow up here don't think nature is something you think separately about or designate certain time for. Maybe deep breaths happen frequently, spread throughout the day instead of segregated in chunks of time. And maybe more nature is recognized in people – family, friends and strangers.
To be honest, I miss the chunks of time I spend with wilderness. I miss quiet walks in the woods. I miss knowing what I will likely see and what I may expect. I like feeling a sensation of comfort. I haven't felt that in a while. I miss Pennsylvania, New Hampshire and Vermont – even Washington State and Idaho.
But I think I miss this largely because I’m in Zanzibar and I don't yet live like a Zanzibarian.
It's wild that one place can be so close to another in the world and yet function so differently.
It's wild that my home life isn't stopping – all things in Vermont, etc are continuing as they were before I left.
It's wild that I live in a city where religion is nearly uniform and government is seriously “unfair.”
It's wild that there are lizards everywhere – every house, every restaurant.
It's wild that I get woken up by Muslim prayers through the speakers and loud invasive crows from India.
The past few days have been harder – move along, move along. I suppose learning how to fill this hole here is my new goal.
Hi Lily,
ReplyDeleteSounds fascinating....I remember Hannah talking about feeling so OBVIOUS when she was in Rwanda. It was a very similar experience you are having. I like reading what you are thinking about and experiencing,makes me appreciate all that we have here, both good and bad. Looking forward to your next post.....
Bonnie
Wow. Those photos... so obviously NOT in the U.S.
ReplyDeleteIt's interesting what we miss, isn't it?
Can't wait to hear what a Zanzibarian birthday celebration is like :)
Dear Lily,
ReplyDeleteYour mom sent me the email you sent your family / friends for your birthday. I do not know if she forwarded the reply I sent her to you.
I felt a hole similar to yours, I guess, when I was in Buenos Aires. I imagine ti is even greater for you, because India has very few open, quiet places compared to the U.S. Yet the thing I missed the most in BA was the stars. That used to be my connection to the universe when I was in Bangalore, and even more so when I was in Oberlin. In BA, you very rarely see the stars. Sometimes I would go to the parks late at night, and try to see them, but they weren't really there at all.
And in Oberlin I felt a different kind of hole - more of the way people just approached each other, were with each other all the time. I guess you have somewhat of the opposite in Zanzibar. When we first got to BA, and when we first got to Oberlin, we were told that acclimatizing to a foreign country happens in stages. First, you are excited, and overwhelmed, and overstimulated, and cannot really think to miss anything. Then, you begin to miss things, and feel out of place. Then, you learn to make peace with the things you miss, and find new things to occupy their place, and learn to "go with the flow", more or less. The same process happens again when you return to your country. It can take different amounts of time for different people. But I guess you have already been told all this by your study abroad program.
Reading your post was a very beautiful experience for me, and reminded me of many things that I felt and thought as a foreign student, first in the U.S., and then in Argentina. I know you will find your equilibrium, and that hole, though it will never completely be filled, will cease to be a constant ache, and instead become a point where you begin your journey. I think that by writing this post, you have already begun it.
Love,
Sanjana.