I can't think of anything to blog
about. That probably means I shouldn't...
but I am doing it anyway, aren't I?
I know most of the people who read
my ramblings on here and I can attest that they are intelligent, involved, and
very busy individuals who really don't have time to read an entry with no
point...
but you are reading it anyway,
aren't you?
How about I just tell you a short story?
I had a substitute driver a few weeks ago. He dropped me at the house and waited outside while I went in to do something. Lunch was ready, so I asked our cook, Henry, to make a plate for the driver and take it down. As I was preparing to leave, Henry rushed back into the kitchen, excitement in his voice and tears in his eyes.
"Madam!" he exclaimed, "I know your driver! We grew up together back in our country! I know all his family. We were best friends!"
How about I just tell you a short story?
I had a substitute driver a few weeks ago. He dropped me at the house and waited outside while I went in to do something. Lunch was ready, so I asked our cook, Henry, to make a plate for the driver and take it down. As I was preparing to leave, Henry rushed back into the kitchen, excitement in his voice and tears in his eyes.
"Madam!" he exclaimed, "I know your driver! We grew up together back in our country! I know all his family. We were best friends!"
He proceeded to tell me the story.
When I went downstairs, the driver, with the same tears and excitement,
told me the same story.
They were children together in a
nearby country. They grew up together as close friends. Then came
the war. They were separated from one another and from many of their
other kindred friends. They hadn't seen or heard from each other in about 14
years. Unbeknownst to each other, they both came to Conakry and have been here for a few years. It wasn't
until that day as Henry went downstairs to hand lunch to a driver that their
eyes met.
The moment they saw each other they
ran and hugged and cried. I had gone back inside to give them time to
talk. They went through name after name of all their friends that the war
separated them from to see what they could learn. Some had died. Some had
not.
Internet-bred and facebook-saavy, I
found all this shocking. If I wanted to...and I don't...I could track
down everyone I've been to school with since I was in Kindergarten. It
would not be very difficult to find out where they are and what their life is
like. Information age, baby! You can find anyone on the internet.
That's convenient.
But it also steals the thrill I saw
in the two of them that day. They didn't even know of the other had survived the war. It took a chance (as if there were such a thing) encounter. And that day, what was their moment, their experience, became one of my favorite moments, my favorite experiences in Guinea.
...so far.
...so far.
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