Coming back seems to take a while emotionally. We miss the slowness and the simplicity of things - not rushing off to finish self-inflicted chores and not having so much visual and social stimulation all the time.
Something that's been simmering in my mind is how relative, and somewhat arbitrary, our perceptions and value systems really are. As a superficial example; a slight heatwave is hitting Stellenbosch and people are positively uncomfortable, both the lucky ones in their airconditioned cars and those taking the taxi or train to work. Everyone seems to be complaining. But in Malawi and Mozambique the heat was so intense that I have been feeling pretty cold back home, especially at night. Now I just miss tropical storms.
Of course we'll adapt to the local categories, just as we will once more take for granted the language, logic and common sense of the culture that now seems so bizarre to us.
Since we have been back we've heard a lot of talk about global matters and it falls quite strangely on the ear. What is Boris Johnson up to, or what is the state of vaccinations in Europe? Should we be testing our oxygen levels? These are questions that seem so totally foreign and irrelevant to me now, although they probably aren't.
But it does seem that everyone here agrees that the acquisition of information is naturally beneficial. Stats, new research and headlines become casual conversation and direct and order our lives. Knowing things, however irrelevant, makes one somehow superior. But now that we've been away I ask myself what kind of knowledge is truly beneficial? Most people in Stellenbosch don't seem to have the basic diplomatic skills to manage nuanced extended family relations, like most people in Africa do. Ask anyone here about the conflict and animosity, not to mention the lawsuits, in their families and they will have loads of stories to tell. People here are real clever when it comes to certain things, but pretty incompetent in others.
Another thing I'm struggling to adapt to is that life here is ordered according to highly sophisticated systems. Food, health, travel, education, exercise and even recreation fits into delineated time frames. Their success is dependent on everyone else accepting and upholding the time limitations and other unwritten codes that these systems require. This level of order makes us feel safe and in charge and is of course benificial in many ways. But if there is a road closure or an accident (not to mention a global pandemic) the meticulously staggered programmes we create for ourselves are disrupted. We feel angry, frustrated and out of control. In the month since we've been back I can feel myself getting increasingly stressed out and quickly upset by contingencies.
On our trip this was very different. People we met and talked to generally navigate the world not through systems, but in very organic and human-centered ways, giving attention to whatever requires your time at that given moment. In Bukoba in Uganda for instance, it wasn't difficult to find an open print shop at 9pm on a Sunday night. Most small businesses and services stayed open until late, their hours being dictated not by rules, but by the weather, by life and religion and family, all in an organic dance of adaptability. We saw kids in school uniform walk home from school at 18h at night, border post officials taking a relaxing two hour lunch together and people sheltering-in-place when a thunderstorm hits. It seems frustrating and disorganised to outsiders, but I found it liberating to be in a world where real things and actual needs dictate day-to-day life, rather than systems of imagined needs, wants and pressures.
Of course we humans love using logic as an excuse for defending our own value-making systems. For me, as an example, there is universal logic in maintaining an atmosphere of hushed silence when being out in the bush, camping or hiking. Many others, we noticed, find it equally valuable to have that nice foot-tapping-vibe that music provides when being out in nature. Which is more logical?
As another example, we once gave someone a lift, offered him a sip of water from one of our bottles, and when he finished, he popped the plastic bottle out the window of our car. I was appaled. Was it logical for me to be upset - probably not. Do I deserve the moral high ground? I don't think so.
Traveling is great because it makes you flesh out the logic of what you value and why. In Zambia, sitting down with the female members of your family and crooning to your cousin's baby might be valued more highly than sitting in an office being financially and otherwise independent. Here being financially independent seems like the only worthwhile life goal. There it seems like a pretty sad and unsuccessful life. It is good to wonder about these things every now and then. Most of them are pretty relative.
Thankfully August and I aren't experiencing the same intense reverse culture shock as with our previous homecomings (my Uganda trip in 2013, August's cycling trip in 2011). Coming back then was quite lonely. Now we share all our memories and challenges with our best friend, and that makes all the difference.
Here's to living more freely, more wisely and more generously. And good luck with the heat wave this weekend.
Thanks for reading.
Ydi
