I may have used this title in a blog before, but that would just prove that Nietzsche is right.
I’m back on the farm in Zimbabwe.
Surprised?
Me too. I mean, I left here in July, thinking I’d shut the door for good. I tied everything into a neat.little.bow – said goodbye to everyone, wrote cards, and gave gifts, forgetting no one. I even wrote a goodbye elegy to Zimbabwe and the farm on my blog! For me, that was a more proper final goodbye than I’d ever given a place, so I obviously didn’t expect to be back.
But last month, my old boss contacted me to see if I would return for a few months. He hadn’t been able to find a replacement teacher for me, and he was beginning to worry about the education of his son. So, I agreed to return here and continue working with Christoph until just before Christmas, buying him some extra time to find my replacement. (Just throwing it out there – if anyone wants to replace me, please get in touch with yours truly.)
I arrived Sunday. Drove the same route from Harare to the farm that I’ve driven dozens of times. Came to the same cottage that I’ve lived in for the past year. Cuddled the cats, who have been waiting for me for over two months. (Just throwing it out there – if anyone wants two lovely kitties, please get in touch with yours truly.) And slipped back into a rhythm that I know ever so well.
It all began again so automatically and comfortably that it was strange. Strange being back in a place I’d never expected to see again. Strange being back in a place that hadn’t really changed. It was as though time hadn’t progressed here in this untouched, unmapped land. Had I really been away? Had I really traveled to Ecuador, New Brunswick, Botswana, and Namibia? Or had I just dreamed it all?
What I do know is that, since I’m here, I’ve decided to be here fully. This mindset was influenced by a recent conversation with Daniel, the cook. He was talking earnestly with me about his struggle to get up for work every day. He works 7 days a week, 18-hour days – no joke. Sweating in that hot kitchen, running around like a chicken with his head cut off, trying to please his finicky masters. He told me that if it weren’t for his children, he wouldn’t do this job a day longer. And yet, he is planning on having more children. In Africa, children are like a retirement fund – and you have to diversify your resources, because you never know how many children will reach adulthood. Daniel is obviously stuck in that quintessentially African cycle of poverty.
I’ve heard this story before, of course. But at this particular time – on my first week back to work, feeling a bit sorry for this bout of eternal recurrence – it hit me with force and meaning. It reminded me how incredibly lucky I am to have this job opportunity. To be able to work and travel with this family, and to be making good money that I can put away for the future. Actually, to be able to work at all, when and where I want. And to be able to travel – to Ecuador, Namibia, or wherever else I want. Frankly, I am lucky to be educated, with a Canadian passport.
With my head sufficiently shaken, I decided to fully appreciate every aspect of my current job and life. Perhaps I didn’t successfully do that the last time, and this is why I’m here again. What say you, Nietzsche?
P.S. We’re off to London on Wednesday for a few weeks. How’s that for eternal recurrence?
Zavtrak - Keep doing what you’re doing Brittany 🙂