Out of Africa

Adventures in Africa may have to become Adventures in America.

I had to leave Tanzania and my sweet husband (temporarily) due to low cash reserves. Now I am trying to find a job, either in the U.S. or in Africa. Job hunting is never easy, but in this economy it is particularly brutal. My friends and family members have been wonderfully encouraging, and mom and dad are allowing me to shack up with them at the homestead in eastern Nebraska until the storm passes.

I am keeping myself busy with some online editing jobs and by helping out at a friend's orchard. I stay connected with friends through the Internet and I am focusing on staying healthy by breathing deeply, eating fruits and veggies and going for long walks. Sometimes I drink wine, though. Heck, there isn't much else to do in eastern Nebraska. I also am working my way through Chekhov's plays, something I never could find the time to do before my current state of semi-employedness. The Half-Price Bookstore and the public library are my go-to places when I need escapism, on the cheap.

I also amuse myself by counting Obama bumper stickers in Omaha. So far, I have found three. The other day a redneck managed to call Obama a socialist, communist and fascist in the same sentence. I silently debated whether to give him a primer on the difference between those schools of political thought, but then decided it wouldn't make a bit of difference in that man's sad world. And yes, ignorance is sad.

I try not to sink into a funk, but there are days when I wish I had never left my job in Chicago. At these moments, I have to remind myself of all the wonderful experiences I had in Tanzania -- experiences that never would have happened if I hadn't left my old life. This new life is just a temporary existence, I repeat to myself.

And, I know all about the odds of survival for a long-distance relationship. (Dr. Phil says they never work out, but I never liked him anyway.) Ombeni and I are determined to make it work. I spoke with him on the phone the other day and he said, "Be patient. We will be OK." I miss my husband, who was my husband for only a month before I had to leave Tanzania.

I can't whine, though -- at least not excessively. There are people who have lost their homes because they could no longer pay their mortgages. There are people out there with serious diseases who don't have health insurance. There are women being abused by men.

I am strong. I survived six months in a house in Tanzania with intermittent water and electricity and sucessfully dodged malaria and dola dola buses. The lousy job market will not defeat me. Living with my parents might, though.

So, what now? I will keep looking and writing and moving forward, or at least trying not to fall back too far.