Simplicity and Adventure

It's been almost three years and there are still some mornings I wake up and wish I was in Mozambique. Today was one of those mornings. Maybe it was due to the "post-season depression" as my mom calls it, but I woke up this morning unsettled, longing for the life I once had. So my sister doesn't freak out, let me clarify- I don't want to move back to Africa; I don't think I'm supposed to. But that doesn't mean there aren't days when I physically ache with longing to be back there.

Some days it feels like that year was a long, Leonardo DiCaprio-inspired dream. My reality in California makes my reality from Mozambique seem utterly bizarre. These worlds are so radically different, so drastically far from each other that it seems almost impossible for them to exist simultaneously.

Last night I watched Brad choose Emily on The Bachelor. Yes, I did. Save your judgment for someone who cares. And I drove home pondering the fact that their "fairy tale proposal" in South Africa took place not too far from the village of Shiparango, not too far from the streets of Maputo. And I was baffled. My brain contorted trying to hold these two realities in my mind at once. It doesn't make sense. Shows like The Bachelor epitomize so much of our culture that is silly and inane and really doesn't make much sense at all. I feel a bit like Nick Carraway from The Great Gatsby as he watches society- "I was within and without. Simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life." Don't be impressed that I'm quoting Gatsby- I just finished teaching the novel to my junior classes.

I am "enchanted" by shows like The Bachelor but also "repelled" by them when I consider the the villagers of Shiparango struggling against malaria and AIDS and poverty. I am "within" and very much a part of the typical "Southern California culture" but also "without", feeling terribly out of place here at other times.

So whether it was the "post-season blues" or watching silly American television, I woke up missing Africa. I looked at my cat sharing my bed and wished it was Gizmo, my neighbor's gargantuan Rhodesian Ridgeback whom I occasionally let share my pillow. Don't tell Dotty.

I looked at my closet overflowing with color-coordinated shirts and skirts and slacks and shoes, and missed my simple wicker drawers, containing just a few necessary outfits. I went a year without drying my hair, without trying to impress others by my outward appearance and I realized today how much I miss that.

I miss not caring. I miss the freedom from comparison that is so prevalent in our society. I mean seriously- how can anyone compete with Barbie doll Emily? So instead of competing today, I pulled my hair up in a wet bun, slipped on an outfit I used to teach in while in Mozambique, and pedaled my bike to school. As I rode, crossing my fingers that my skirt wouldn't get caught in the chain, I thought about life in Maputo.

I passed by seven people on my way to school. Seven. Three were waiting for a bus and four were mowing lawns outside of Cerritos Auto Square. (sidenote- My mom never let us watch The Simpsons growing up, but when she was at work, we'd watch it with my dad. I love this show. And they really do their homework. Check out this list of "must-see attractions" in Southern California)

I smiled at the gardeners at Cerritos Auto Square and wished there were more people to see. Walking home from school in Mozambique each day, I must have passed hundreds of faces. Hundreds. I had to maneuver through a sea of bodies; guards lazily swinging their guns, women selling colorful vegetables, kids playing soccer, old men playing chess, and street venders trying to follow me home.

On today's uneventful ride to school, I envisioned those walks home from the Christian Academy of Mozambique and realized there are two main things I miss about my life in Mozambique: simplicity and adventure.

Seemingly contradictory, I've found them to be actually intertwined and typical ingredients of everyday life in Mozambique. Every day was simple. But every day was also an adventure. I had no car and it wasn't safe to go out after dark so my schedule was simple. Walking home took about 45 minutes so before the sun sunk behind the sea, I had time to run up to the mango vender on the corner or to the market down the street to get a coke and a chocolate bar and then I'd go for a quick jog with Gizmo before I was confined to our house. With a spotty Internet connection and one TV station in English, my nights were spent reading, cooking, and lesson planning. I miss this simplicity. I miss a life free from thousands of distractions screaming for my attention. Life was quieter. Life was simpler.

Although the weekdays were similar in routine, they also held the promise of adventure and randomness. Oh how I miss the randomness. Maybe a three-legged dog would chase Gizmo and me during our run; or a bunch of cockroaches would scatter from under a pile of potatoes as I sorted through them looking for dinner at the vegetable vender on the corner; or a homeless man would try to follow me home so I'd have to pick up my skirt and sprint. Life was simple but life was different every day. I never knew what to expect on my walks home and I miss that. I miss the unexpected.

Life is different every day here too. I mean, last year I did get stopped by the cops and searched for drugs on my ride home. Oh and I did get hit by a car but I didn't even get a scratch and that only happened once. Most days here aren't very blog-worthy. Every day in Mozambique was blog-worthy because every day was random. Every day I was learning. Every day was an adventure.

One of my biggest fears is that I'll never recover who I was in Mozambique- that swimming in Southern Californian culture, I'll never find the me who doesn't compare herself to others, the me who lives simply and lives a daily life of adventure. I don't think it's impossible to find simplicity and adventure in Southern California. However, they must be sought after. If I go with the flow and don't pursue them intentionally, I'll zoom right past the simplicity and never find the adventure. I'll get sucked into the vortex of Facebook and reality TV and People magazines; the land of malls and traffic jams and me-first mentalities and I'll forget what I was searching for in the first place.

This morning was a wake up call. This morning was the beginning of a journey for me- a journey to find that girl again; a journey to find simplicity and adventure around every corner. I don't know exactly how I'll do it but I have found this to be true:

Simplicity is found in a hammock with a book.

So is adventure.

Simplicity is found in walking or biking instead of driving.

So is adventure.

Simplicity is found in being the hands and feet of Christ.

So is adventure.