Saturday, June 27, 2009

away through the lens of another telescope

There's only a few short weeks remaining here in Zambia - a little over a month and a half. In my short time here I've been unable to truly understand why I'm here or what sorts of impacts are possible - organizational, personal, or otherwise. Original objectives rapidly burned to ash upon facing the friction of my entry into Ndola - and now, despite multiple multi hour honest efforts at reflection and planning, I am still, for the most part, really unsure what is happening. It's hard to get clear expectations in the open - hour long conversations may coax some ambiguous phrases out, statements which are rich in uncertainty and can't be cleared up with any manner of ease. However, certain parties are more than happy to, without being in want for their idiosyncratic disdain, remind me what is not in line with enigmatic expectations in a split second statement. Lethal and cunning. Trial and error? Guess and check? Pull my hair out in frustration and start over? Read the writing on the walls and provide a much needed spell check along with a realignment of false, and entirely rote based, grammatical concepts? Or perhaps put the chalk and brush away and instead opt to sit silent? Hit the eject button and cut my losses? Maybe there isn't a parachute.

Much to my anguish and regret the clock tauntingly ticks perpetually - the hour glass was tipped upon the final decent into Lilongwe. Complexity is inherent in everyday interactions. The winds of change blow slowly in concrete "prisons" and slums alike. Deception flourishes in hearts and minds resulting in growing disdain and confusion.

- Many weeks have elapsed
- Can impact be achieved in the remaining time?
- no clear programme is in place despite earnest efforts
- where to go next?

Bob Dylan:
Now the bricks lay on Grand Street
Where the neon madmen climb.
They all fall there so perfectly,
It all seems so well timed.
An' here I sit so patiently
Waiting to find out what price
You have to pay to get out of
Going through all these things twice.
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end,
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again.

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