Poem on a Wednesday

Listen

with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridge to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water looking out
in different directions

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
in a culture up to its chin in shame
living in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank you

over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the back door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks that use us we are saying thank you
with the crooks in office with the rich and fashionable
unchanged we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us like the earth
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

By W.S. Merwin

Life in Libreville II

Poofy—our neighbor Rodika’s white cat—knows who robbed us in the wee hours of Friday morning. I know this, because Rodika, told me last night, while we both stood on the small landing between our two doors, watching Poofy pace quick circles around us and between our legs.

“Why not you go and wake Brett,” she said sternly to him, rolling the ‘r’ in my name. She turned and crouched down, making rapid pawing motions at my door in a decent impression of what Poofy actually does. “Wake up Brett, wake up.” She stopped and straightened up. “He knows who it was, but I do not know how to make him tell.” She shrugged.

“Hm,” I said, nudging him with my toe. Poofy can be quite the magnificent bastard, pooping on our balcony all the time, urinating in the hall, and mewling loudly outside our windows, but this one really took the cake.

Instead of finding out about the burglary from Poofy ahead of time, I found out the next morning. It was 6:40, and I was having some trouble getting out of bed.

“Brett,” Angela called from the living room, “Can you come look at the fridge please?” There was something unusual in her voice, and asking me to come look at our refrigerator seemed a strange request. I was unhappily thinking big brown jumping tarantula.

“Am I going to need my glasses for this,” I yelled back as I kicked off the covers.

“Can you just come here please!” Something was definitely different. When I walked out of the bedroom, through the hallway, and into our living room, I saw what it was. Angela was standing by the refrigerator, her hair still wet from the shower, and at her feet was the chain and padlock from our iron grate. The lock had been cut. The curtains were open, which we were careful to always keep closed at night, and the sliding glass door was open about a foot. There were pry bar marks on it.

“We got broken into last night,” Angela said, tears welling up in her eyes.

It was a strange feeling. Someone had been in our house the night before, doing basically whatever they wanted. I turned around and looked at the room behind me in a new light. What was different? What had they taken? I had taken the computer into the bedroom with me, and Angela went to check on our ipods. They were both there. The only thing missing was a little bit of money from a make-up bag that had been pulled out of a drawer.

Now I don’t want this blog to turn into an episode of Touched by an Angel, but I will point out these few facts. About twenty feet in front of the glass door is our dining room table. On the table, I had left 25,000 CFA, which is the approximate equivalent of 50.00 US Dollars. The money was untouched, left in the same neat stack I had piled it into the night before. I would say the thief had left the money, because it was petty cash, and they wanted the big score, except that they had gladly taken the money in the make-up bag, which I believe was only around forty dollars. And they had taken nothing else. In fact, it looked as though the intruder had not been in the apartment for longer than five minutes, and had never made it past the dining room table.

Maybe someone woke up (Our Guard, for instance? Anyone?), and spooked the thief. Maybe Angela and I made a noise. But nothing like that bothered the fellow(s) who had carried a ladder over to our wall to climb over, then carried the ladder to our porch, climbed up, cut the lock on our iron grate, pried open the glass door, and slipped into our silent living room. Whatever happened, he walked right back out, leaving a stack of bills neatly piled on the table.It’s strange, I’ve heard that sometimes after people get robbed, or had their homes broken into, they have a hard time getting to sleep for a while. Last night, I slept pretty heavy.

The mean streets of Libreville

Not the best guards. (Poofy, and his un-named sister.)

Christmas, Paper, and Fireworks

First things first - Christmas! Although Brett does not have many things to say about Christmas I have a lot! - but will be brief for blogging purposes. Mom, Dad, and Larisa flew into Libreville the first day of Christmas Break and were able to spend all but a couple days of our 3 week break with us. It was great to take them around our little area in Libreville and then spend time in Bongolo.

Larisa was able to do her Cross Cultural Nursing Practicum at the Bongolo hospital which included many adventures and things she never would have seen at a hospital in the states. Dad was able to get quite a bit of work done on the building project he is managing on the Bongolo Hospital campus and Brett was able to relax, write, and work some with my Dad on the building project. Mom and I were living the Little House on the Prarie life cooking meals, washing dishes by hand, drying the clothes on the line in the attic, and of course a lot of talking. It was great to spend so much time hanging out with family all break and in the evenings at Bongolo! ( 4 months is a long time!) We were also fortunate enough to have a good phone line over break so we could call our family in Michigan and Seattle to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and catch up with them as well! God Bless us Everyone!:) - Tiny Tim

Brett and I also celebrated our Paper Anniversary over break. The big 1 year:)





The truth is we spent part of the day on a mini tour of the hydroelectric plant that supplies electricity to the hospital compound. We could think of nothing more romantic OR everyone was going and it sounded fun! Either way we had a great time in Bongolo!

Fireworks were a big part of our New Years Eve celebration. We flew back to Libreville on New Years Day and spent New Years Eve with friends in town. Since November we have been hearing firecrackers popping all around our apartment, and New Years Eve was no exception. They were going off in the street and then on the tin roof of the house we were in. People were actually throwing them over the wall which of course prompted our host to throw his stash into the street as well. It was a loud night but quite entertaining! The night ended with our own fireworks show of fireworks I don't think are legal to sell in the states.
A belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all!

Brett checking out the rainforest. I was not with him on that hike!


We saw Jakes picture on someones desk in the eye clinic on our tour of the hospital!
- Angela

Life in Libreville, A Brief Re-Hashing

The school’s director is in Bangkok for a recruitment fair, and he made a last minute decision to stay for an extra few days, because apparently he couldn’t generate much interest from teachers looking for new jobs in exotic locales. The substitute the school had hired to fill in couldn’t stay additional days, and so I had to give up doing E.S.L. for the afternoon, and teach Jr. High Science.

I have to tell you that I am not much of a science guy. In high school, my experiments often did not work, my glass tube would not bend when heated, and I don’t like wearing goggles unless I’m machine gunning from the back of a World War II airplane. I do, however, try to be a team player, so at 1:00, I headed up to the third floor.

“Ok,” I said scanning the notes that had been left for me, while the class sat quietly, with the occasional titter. “Ok…” There were two sets of instructions, both in equally terrible hand-writing, and with conflicting instructions. I saw that the old sub was supposed to have started Unit Seven, but for some reason she had gone AWOL, and started making up her own lesson plans, lingering on Six, and adding a test, from what I could tell. She had crossed out the original lesson plans I was supposed to have started, and switched them with her old ones.

“Everyone turn to page 156,” I said, opening the teacher’s manual. More giggles ensued, and I said, “Funny funny today,” right as I opened up to Unit Seven, and two pictures, side by side: The Male and Female Reproductive organs, in all their terrible glory. I froze. Carefully I turned the page. “The Menstrual Cycle,” in bold letters at the top of the page. I tried not to react, and with my head down, I glanced up, and the class exploded with laughter. I was unprepared for this situation. “Stop,” I snapped, “Everyone quiet down.”

The reason for the old sub’s lesson plan insubordination was abundantly clear. She had been a coward, although a resourceful one. She had doctored the lesson plans so I had no idea what I was walking into. All I had seen on the plans were phrases like, “Class may work on science fair projects,” “Worksheets 51-54,” “Class reads aloud 7.1.” Nothing along the lines of, “You’re the new sex-ed teacher, don’t be too surprised.” Let me also add that the class is comprised of eight, seventh and eighth grade girls, and one seventh grade boy. Not in this lifetime, mon amie. Not in any.

“Ok,” I repeated for the third or fourth time. “Let’s be mature about this. I want you to read 7.1 silently, and then I have some worksheets for you to do.” I paused, and then added, “And if you have any questions, talk to your parents tonight when you get home, or ask Dr. Moras when he gets backs.” More giggles started to bubble up, and I held up one hand.

“But Mr. Strickland,” one of them whined, “That’s almost ten pages.”

“It’s won’t take you that long,” I told her, “Anyway, a lot of it is diagrams and pictures.” I winced as the class, once more, began laughing uncontrollably.

I don’t have much to say about Christmas Break, and the month or so we haven’t updated. We had a fantastic time, and did a lot of new things, and on December 30^th, Angela and I broke the first year of marriage barrier. Also, two days ago I saw (and poked multiple times) an eel trapped in a tidepool, and a dead African Boomslang, which was very cool.

Here are a few pictures from break. Enjoy.

This is a church we went to down in Bongolo. After church, the first people stop and greet whoever is coming out, and once you get greeted, you join the line and greet those behind you. Pretty soon the line becomes a circle (A circle of life, dare I say?), with everyone clapping and greeting people. It was fun to be included in.

Angela and I, nominees for biggest Dorks of 2007.