under pressure...then "getting a grip"

I feel like I’m on a timeline. Are people are going to die on my watch? Of course they are, that’s ‘life.’ What’s the difference if they die on mine or anyone else’s? They are still dead. A new reality.

As tears well up in my eyes I look around my kitchen and see familiar faces. Faces of friends and family that rely on me for love, support, friendship, a laugh, a hug- not for survival. Not for food. Not for a net to keep mosquitoes away because of fear of malaria. The faces I see in my head when I’m supposed to be writing a proposal, facilitating a meeting, encouraging home base care workers- these faces might come with familiar smiles but their words are those of immediacy- of need, a need I haven’t come in contact with until now. I want to be rational, be a facilitator instead of a leader of a group, capacity building and sustainability are at the forefront always or whatever ‘work’ I do will fail. This is fine, I see the bigger picture but my constant question is: how do I convey this “bigger picture” through language and cultural barriers when people living with HIV/AIDS need food to take their ARVs? The big picture, the long-term goals- for some there is no long term. There is tomorrow; maybe.

Maybe not though- maybe there is a certain amount of egocentricity (not sure if that’s the word I want to use…) looming over me. These problems existed before I got here, they will continue when I leave- it’s not up to me to feed everyone and support every project….or is it? This is the struggle, the pull. The balance I can’t seem to find- what is my responsibility? To be like a parent? Parents always know what’s best- they have learned the lessons their kids will encounter, but the kids have to learn them on their own. You can only take them so far. So do I hold the bigger picture secret maneuvering through this process without expressing what I “know” and in the end they will figure it out? They look to me for answers, answers I don’t have. I couldn’t possibly have. I’m supposed to have the right questions though. I want to ask the right questions to pull the answers out of them; they know what’s best for them and their community. I’m an outsider- posing as the savior they have dubbed me: “Nana Sarah, we call you the mother of the solution to our problems” -Markus wrote that in my birthday card. [insert four letter swear word of your liking].

Surely there is a country song about ups and downs, highs and lows, how everything changes from one moment to the next. The unpredictability of it all is supposed to be the fun part right? That’s life….just heard from a friend- she writes “remember that life is much too important to be taken so seriously” I know she is right….but what does that even mean, really mean? The fact that I’m trying to figure out what it means negates my understanding of it. I’m supposed to laugh and go outside and look at the sky or something. And not think. But I’ll do that another day, now I’m just going to write. BUT I’m thankful for the reminder- it does not go unnoticed.

Another reminder- we are doing a job that has no rule book. The only way to succeed is to mess up. Maybe that is the same with every job but, well, I’m overwhelmed.

Amanda calls- I cry my face off- she compassionately says “get a grip.” Ok :) Sure, consider me gripped. Really, 24 hours later I’ve overcome another day. A lot of the pressure I’m feeling is self-imposed. Saying “no” and “we are partners” and “things take time” are the keys to navigating this ride successfully. In the midst of being stressed out, overwhelmed, feeling like I’ve screwed up big time I am greeted by acquaintances on the main road. These acquaintances soon become friends when they invite me for lunch and we eat off the same plate in the open market. We laugh about the mess I’ve made, share a glass of water among 4, plan to have a beer at 5 when we ‘knock off.’ And life goes on.