A Work Of Art

Time and space in another world - a world so modern, fast and shiny - have caught me up again and sent me flying forward. I have been swept out of this spring and summer's sulking limbo, readjusting to life in the US. In the autumn I got a job; then I got a phone; and then I got so much more: car tune-ups, dry-cleaning, monthly bills, gym sessions, new works clothes, rush hours, happy hours, a medical plan, a dental plan and a 401k (okay, come the new year). I am here again, finally. But as something new, something more complete. I have far greater perspective - as if the lens that once perceived the world has been adjusted into place, having always been askance.

Today I attended a memorial service for my former mentor, an extraordinary man swiftly and heartbreakingly taken by pancreatic cancer. At the service I saw many former colleges among the hundreds paying their respects to a great, but humble man who undoubtedly impacted thier lives as positively as he did mine.

Thus is the time for reflection.

I speak with Ester and my African children as often as I can still, still looking out for their well-being despite the obstacles between us: their lingering in undeveloped, inefficient Africa and me moving at the speed of light some 13,000 miles away. Might as well be another planet, I tell people. Ester is still managing the snack shop, although it's not doing as well as I would like, but more importantly, the kids are happy and grateful. I can hear them shrieking and laughing in the background whenever I call, and see in my mind their bouncing off the bunk beds, running barefoot on the concrete floor, Rachel and Peanut ganging up on Richard in play fight while Sylvia smiles watching, B2 reads and Agnes cooks on the charcoal stove.

I have been told by Ester and the the hospital that was treating Richard that his health has improved, but he is still not quite well. The hospital has said they could do no more for him, so I ensured that he was taken to another reputable orthopedic surgeon in Kampala. After checking him, the new doctor says that Richard just needs some medication to dry up the leg and special bandaging, a treatment course that should just take a few weeks. So we will find out shortly if he will finally be healed, but I reamain cautiously optimistic, this is Africa, I tell myself and others.

So they - the kids and Ester - are there, and I am here, and God only knows when our lives will collide in person again, and God only knows if things will work out with the project as I envisioned, and God only knows if I will ever become accustomed to straddling the vast divide between our two staggeringly different worlds. But like most significant things in life, there is no clear end; new situations and new people and new emotions surface and fall with the passage of time; we collect; we throw away; we rearrange; we hold onto what is most dear and continue like an artist molding our own works of art.