Memories

Renzo found and scanned these pictures and posted them on facebook. I just had to put them here as well :-).

This picture was taken on United Nations Day at ICS (International Community School of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia). At this school United Nations Day was celebrated with a parade of flags of all the countries that had students in the school, followed by presentations from several countries. This particular year, my mom decided to steal the show with us kids. I was at that odd awkward age where it's only just acceptabel to stand on stage and sing, it verged on being painful!
We sang "twee emmertjes water halen", that's what I remember for sure! Funny thing is, we hardly spoke dutch at all at home, and didn't sing much dutch either. We might just have learned that dutch song especially for that occasion!
A couple of years later, back at the school after three years in the States, I was the flag bearer for the dutch flag. There's a picture of that somewhere!


This other picture is much older. I was showing it to Marinda and only then realized that my parents were much younger than I am now when this picture was taken. In their early thirties perhaps? Strange to think of them off discovering the world with four kids in tow, while I sit here, ensconced behind my computer, limiting my travels around the world to reading peoples blogs!

I think we look pretty good though!

Blogging

- oops! my knowledge of dutch is lacking. the word I use in the post below does not mean what i made it out to mean, but I decided to leave it as is anyway!-

Instead of blogging I've been doing more chatting on facebook, catching up with old friends. I'm rude, I just up and ask people what they've been doing and what choices have they made. It's so interesting to see how peoples lives have turned out! I'd love to do some kind of project, get everybody to tell their life story so we can see what we've all become.

I'm not going to the reunion, and I've reconciled to that fact I think. Part of me was terrified of going as well. Because although I have wonderful memories, it's not like going back in time and reliving it all! People change, I've changed. And seeing everybody could also turn out to be painful in a way.

And another reason is the fact that I'm "lichtgeraakt". Lichtgeraakt literally means lightly touched, or impressionable perhaps? I had this feeling that if I did go back I would end up with a huge crush on somebody. Because that's what I did back then, develop huge crushes and date a lot! And I loved it :-). So going back to familiar people would probably bring back familiar feelings....
Have to smile at myself. Here I am, a 37 year old married woman, talking about crushes. It's my inner 18 year old putting in an appearance.

I have noticed though, that people tend te revert to old behavior when put into "old" circumstances. When I go visit my parents I'm a bit of a different person than when I'm here at home. Herman used to regress when we visited his parents, drove me nuts! Until I figured out I was doing it as well ;-). Just today I was talking to a 62 year old friend about this. Even at her age, family habits die hard.
A reunion might just be a feeding ground for regression as well. Though ideally, it could also be a place to see the person you once were, be the person you are now, and a place to treasure memories and build new ones.

Now I wish I was going anyway!

Younger me

Growing up

I grew up, at least partly, in a relatively strict christian setting. The kind of setting where dancing is a sin, and drinking.... don't even think about it! Sex before marriage, big issue, smoking... up there with drinking. Maybe you know the kind of setting I mean!
That's why it was funny for me to see an old friend drop by my blog and then scarper off as fast as her mouse could take her. Because in the last week I have blogged about naked men and beer. That must have gotten some eyebrows raised!
But I also know what it's like to see the complete opposite. People getting falling down drunk, lots of sleeping around, smoking... no drugs though as far as I can remember.
I think I've found the balance somewhere halfway. Although some would think there's no halfway about it. I'm just a prude according to some standards!
I have a drink now and then, but have never been drunk. I love to dance, but am incapable of doing it. I have christian and non christian friends who smoke but almost choked on my own first and last cigarette. And as for sex... well I have two kids, so I must be doing something sometimes, right?
I just realized that I can add blogging about sex to the things I've written about this week. Now I've pretty much guaranteed some people won't be reading this blog!

Guardians

When I went to school at RVA I needed to have guardians who lived in the country. My parents lived in Ethiopia, and the school was in Kenya. I had the great luck of having the Ondeng family become my guardians. A beautiful, warm, friendly, welcoming, musical, humorous, fantastic Kenyan family with whom I shared some of the happiest most carefree moments in my life! After my initial trepidation (because I didn't know them at all)they became a home away from home, a place of fun and relaxation and acceptance.
I'm getting lyrical, aren't I! But I think Lise would agree that I'm not exaggerating. Oh my, the laughs we had with them! And the hugs! Now I love my hubby, really truly, but nothing can beat an Ondeng hug!! When Herman and I went to Kenya in 1994, we were hosted by the Ondengs. We were greeted at the airport by Mr Ondeng senior. He turned to Herman and said "thank you for bringing my daughter back home".

What made me think of them was the fact that I got in touch with two of the family members through facebook yesterday. Finding the "i want to be your friend message" in my mail box gave me goosebumps all over and brought a huge smile to my face. Makes me wonder how you can get out of touch with people when there are such good memories!
Ah, well, now I will just bask in the knowledge that they are only a mouse click away, and start enjoying their company all over again!

Clarinet

Just when I was feeling inspired to post a picture of myself playing clarinet, Dori did it for me! (yes, yes, that's me on the right, with the wonderful pants. Don't you love them?).
I was inspired by her post of herself in all her "saxy" glory.
So yes, I did play the clarinet. For a grand total of three years. Three very enjoyable years! When I first went to join band I wanted to play the flute. So elegant and lovely and ladylike. But, much to my dismay, the band teacher bluntly told me he had more than enough flutes. So I had to pick something else. I thought the sax was much to huge and masculine and then opted for the smaller clarinet. It was not a choice made by my passion for the instrument, that's for sure!
I then spent the next couple of weeks painfully practicing in a little room by myself until I got caught up with the musical level of the band after which I was finally allowed to join them.
When I was in RVA, band practice was during the lunch hour. So I have no memory at all of long leisurely lunches on the grassy fields. I always ran to the head of the lunch line, gobbled my meal and then sprinted up the many many steps to the band room. I'm guessing that that did wonders for my breathing technique.
One magical time, I was even allowed to direct the band. Oh wow! When we had our concert, I lost my timing and somebody had to wave their trumpet at me to get me back on track.....

Since living in Holland I have made several different efforts to start playing again. The efforts usually last about.... say.... two weeks. I never got back in a band, there's a whole different band culture here, and lessons are just terribly expensive. I still have my clarinet though, up in the attic. It has survived numerous moves. The case is covered with stickers which hold special memories.
Though I think that one of these days, I will have to give it away to somebody who will actually play the thing!
Nostalgia can only go so far.

Anne of Green Gables

Who among you has not read Anne of Green Gables??? Do you dare speak up??
I LOVE the Anne series. I just found out I can order more books by Lucy Maud Montgomery through an internet book site here in Holland. And two of the books I want only cost 5 euros each! Even my stingy soul will allow me to spend that. I will most definately buy those as a birthday treat to myself. Something to look forward to :-)
I must thank Anne Stoner for introducing me to Anne of Green Gables. She did it with a certain mysticism which practically guaranteed I would love the books. I have them upstairs in my bookcase, almost read into tatters. I think it's been a year since I read them. About time to get them out again!
I saw that they were first published in 1908. Hard to believe that they're still alive and kicking and now available on DVD. That is something I refuse to do. Watching them on DVD is like a sacriledge to my youthful imagination. I prefer trying to grab the poignancy of first reading them.....


(Okay, okay, I'm a little weird!!)

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Ballerina

When I was small, I had high hopes of becoming a ballerina. When I was a teen I listenened to Abba's Dancing Queen and imagined myself stealing the show at the disco. Listening to that song still makes me feel nostalgic and wistful. Maybe that's why I like it so much when I see Marinda dance! I get to dance vicariously through her. I may have a tendency to do that every now and again :-)
So here's a picture of me as a small ballerina. As far as I can remember this was the Christmas after I had whooping cough. My knobby knees are proof of that fact. Often, after I ate, I would cough and then everything would come up again. I remember vividly getting ice cream once (which was a rarity in Ethiopia!) and then throwing it all up again. Oh, I just cried and cried at the loss of that ice cream. But I am digressing most horribly....
So that Christmas I got this ballerina outfit and felt proud and pretty as a picture. About two years later I got a jeans skirt and jacket which I wore constantly because it made me feel like stewardess. That was my highest ambition at that time! I'm sure there's a picture of me with that skirt and top somewhere, but I havn't found it yet.
For now, you will have to make do with this one. (please note the socks and sandals!!)

Once upon a time

Once upon a time the dutch christian television network (there is only one) placed an ad, saying they were looking for new faces for their television programs.
With fear and trepidation, sweaty hands and pounding heart, I wrote an application letter. A couple of weeks later, I got a reply. I was selected to do a screen test! Oh glory!!
With even sweatier hands and a heart that was ready to thump right out of my chest, I went and showed off my prowess as the most friendly, charismatic and erudite presentor ever. Unfortunately the network did not feel the same and I was turned down.
And so my dream came to an end. But, to prove it actually DID happen, here in the picture you can see me in action during my screen test. Ummmm.... I am the one in the yellow shirt with the short hair :-)

Reunion

A RVA classmate of mine, Melanie, has taken initiative to get some ideas up and running for a 20 year high school reunion. Needless to say, I would LOVE to go!
I lived in Louisiana for three years when I was a teen, and I went to school in Ethiopia and Kenya with a lot of americans so I have a "thing" for the States. The last time I was there was just before I got married. I went back to Carville, Louisiana, with a film crew making a documentary about leprosy. I went to my old school and saw one of my favorite teachers, and I visited with Sharons parents. (I can't remember seeing you, Sharon, were you at college then?). I loved walking through the huge, huge stores. It's a thing of mine. I love going grocery shopping in different countries and looking at all the different foods and spices on offer. Fig newtons for example, cannot be bought here. Icing can only be found in some stores, maple syrup is a rarity, butter flavored popcorn salt.... I have yet to find it. I've read about toothpastes in all kinds of flavors.... not here! We stick to pepperminty flavors or disgusting herbal concoctions that make your gums shrivel. What about the coffee flavors that I read about. My word, I'd love to get a hold of some of those!
So that's at least one thing that I would like to do if I make it to the States. That and drool and drool and drool some more in a bookstore filled with ENGLISH books. Oh my lordy, I think I will feel that I have died and gone to my own personal little heaven.
Besides the sordid materialistic side of me, the personal empathetic part of me (which exists... sometimes...) would also really really like to meet up with old friends, play catch-up and see if my memories correspond with theirs. Because I have noticed that memories can get really distorted through time. And besides that, it makes me feel whole to meet people who knew me back when, as I don't often run into old classmates here in Holland. (that may sound kind of pathetic but I don't mean it to be).
So here's to next year summer, somewhere in the States, visiting with old friends, and enjoying a wonderfully unique break!!

Pregnant

These pictures of me were taken when I was pregnant with Marinda. We lived in a huge old house which belonged to the hospital that Herman worked in. The hospital's photographer lived there as well and he jumped at the opportunity to photograph a pregnant woman. Actually he wanted me to do them nude, but that wasn't something that I wanted to do! The bit of body that's showing in the pictures is enough I think!
It was a huge shock when I turned out pregnant, because it wasn't something we were planning on and we weren't married yet. And I was only 20 years old at the time. But the whole walking around with a big belly was kind of fun. I used to wear funky overalls, people would stand up in the bus to give me their seat, and total strangers would start a conversation. I was studying at the time, art therapy, and had to work hard to pass the year. The first couple of months of the pregnancy I felt so ill that I threw up everywhere and was exhausted all the time. Then I entered the "blooming" fase (during which we got married) , and I finished the school year half hoping that I would be able to make it to my third year as well. It turned out that I didn't go back to school until about 8 years later. I enjoyed every minute of it when I did!
These pictures turned out to be my one and only shot at modelling. I, like many many girls before and after me, had always dreamt of being a model. Well, these are the results!

Memories

Before you get discouraged by seeing so many words, let me just explain why I put this up here. In 1999 I was surfing the RVA site (the boarding school I went to when I was 16/17) and came upon this column, written by one of my teachers. Only to discover that it was me he was referring to in one of his anecdotes! I smiled, laughed, wiped away a sentimental tear and felt so darn good to be remembered! So I thought I'd let you enjoy as well, and maybe get a feel for what my life in boarding school was like every now and again. (and if you want to have a peek at the couple in question check out this previous post)

On Campus
with Tim Bannister

The February '99 Edition

The idea of romance at RVA sometimes sounds like a contradiction in terms, despite the relationships here that persist and become marriages (Hi, Miriches and Pumpellys). However, at the Rift these days Valentine's Day is brightened by the efforts of the sophomore classes. In addition to selling all those flattering valentines and balloons, they sell long-stem roses (delivered with a smile to your increasingly significant other), and singing telegrams. When was the last time you had "Blue Moon" sung to you and had flowers delivered to your dorm room? It's a pretty romantic day, even by RVA standards. Why, just the other day, Cupid himself graced the stage of Centennial Hall (the offspring of Jubilee Hall, in case you're wondering), and shot his little arrows straight into the heart of an unsuspecting staff member (well, okay, it was a student masquerading as a staffie, and well, maybe Cupid was a student, too, but the idea was there, and where there's a will, there's a way, which is more-or-less how romances survive here, anyhow). Ah, love - Kijabe style.

My favorite RVA love story involves the lower verandah of Kiambogo, scene of countless Late Studie romances. For those who remember, the room next to the Staff Lounge, facing downhill, used to be a photocopy room. It also had a typewriter for staff use, and the typewriter was on a desk directly in front of the window. It was relaxing to sit there and type. There was a great view of the valley from that window, and (most importantly) a view of the lower Kiambogo verandah. When this story happened, there were no security lights on the lower verandah, so it was strictly (ho-ho-ho) off-limits to couples during late Studie.

One evening, I went to type up a test, and entered through the upper door of the staffroom. As you may remember, Kenya's fluorescent lights sometimes take five or ten seconds to come on. When they did, I was standing about a foot from THE window. Sitting on the window sill was one of RVA's hottest couples (and in case they are reading this, I remember who you are, W and M... and I may yet turn you in). and they looked like one body unit. She noticed me first, after about five seconds, but he was a tad slow to respond (to me, at least). He didn't actually react until she was well into the only syllable she could scream, "MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!" Heaven knows what he thought she was trying to communicate... When he did notice me, he literally lifted off the window sill (what glutes!) and the two of them landed, still entwined, on the verandah. For the remainder of the term, she couldn't look at me without blushing. He wisely didn't even try to make eye contact. Pity they split up. They made a handsome couple. I hope I didn't discourage them.

One thing that has always interested me is the creative effort made to circumvent the couples rules without necessarily breaking them.

Like the Grade Nine couple from the Class of '91 who hired a fellow student to "chaperone" them, so they technically weren't alone as a couple (verdict - they got shut down, repeatedly). Or the groups of couples who make sure there are large (and even) numbers together at all times, so they aren't alone as couples. Not that they communicate and socialize all that much as a group, what with other distractions (verdict - shut down only if there is a staff member athletic enough to be jogging around the field). Or the station kids who don't have to be in at any particular time, so are able to visit through the Kedong windows (verdict - frequently successful, but they may have to bribe the night guards). I have often wondered why so few RVA students become lawyers, considering their creative approach to law.

Another thing that occasionally brightens the romantic mood around here is when staffies fall in love. Forgive me for this, Liz (Winterberg, in case anyone is unaware), but the RVA world needs to know how much fun it was to watch you and the Gentleman-Known-As-Scott stroll around the campus arm in arm, oblivious to the rest of the world. Or how you completely dismissed the idea of a third term research paper because you didn't feel like marking one that year. Or how all of us, posing as surrogate parents, checked this guy out pretty carefully before we put our stamp of approval on this engagement. Wish we could have been there for the big day.

Such is life. Romance, like dinosaurs, will always find a way (sorry, Mr. Chrichton). And in a place with such beautiful sunsets, and a vista of two dormant but simmering volcanoes (now, ain't that a metaphor?), romance occasionally struggles to the surface and brings a little joy and zest into the lives of us all. Happy Valentines's Day, all you wonderful alumni. Hope your life has its share of romance. Thanks for all the emails last week. Bye-bye

Interview with my dad

When I was in fourth or fifth grade the teacher had a habit of inviting parents to the class so that we could interview them. We then had to write down the interview. This is what I wrote when my dad came.

October 29, 1980

An interview with Mr. Dad

Mr. Dad is a physiotherapist. He works at A.L.E.R.T. He exercises with his patients. He goes on field trips to villages to prevent leprosy. He has one son and three daughters. His first name is Wim. His wifes name is Mariet. He likes his job a lot. His favorite food is from Holland. His favorite colors are pink and purple. He liked Norway the best of all the countries he went to. He went to seven countries in Europe. The disease of leprosy is not harmful. His favorite fruit is mango. His favorite sports are soccer and tennis. His least favorite sport is mountaineering. I am his oldest daughter.

I read a couple of the other interviews I wrote back then and to my surprise I am in contact with most of the people whose parents I wrote about! And all of that thanks to Facebook.
Reading through my little book and the pleasure it gives me is one of the reasons I save school stuff for my kids. I want them to be able to hold on to something that they made when they were small.

A little pang

I went to the library today with Tristan. He is not usually a reader, but has to do a book report for school, so what better opportunity? While in the library I gently tried to steer him towards the Chronicles of Narnia. He didn't go for it. And that gave me a pang. I've given up getting Marinda interested in the books I used to read (and sometimes still do). Like the Chronicles of Narnia, Anne of Green Gables and Little House on the Prarie. I know it's utterly impossible to get Tristan interested in Anne or Little House, but maybe, just maybe he would be interested in the Narnia books? Helaas, helaas as they say here (it means unfortunately, unfortunately) I couldn't tempt him enough. Instead he went for a book about two kids and a german shepherd dog who get into exciting adventures with diamond thieves.
It gives me pang because there's not much of my youth that I can share with my kids and books have been such an important part of it. A lot of my memories include loving books, and books influencing the way I think and feel. The books I mentioned above are an integral part of me growing up and have helped form my character. Writing it down like that makes it almost sound ridiculous. Oh well....
I'm consoling myself that sometimes, in a hopefully far future, I may have grandchildren that I'll be able to pass my book loves on to!

RVA

I went to boarding school in Kenya for two years. Two great years, I might add! Today I discovered a video on youtube about that school, RVA. Made me get all sentimental. I showed my daughter. She was inclined to want to go there as well. Didn't surprise me, she'd probably do great! It's always strange to realize how differently I grew up compared to my kids, and it regularly gives me a jolt to see how life is so different now.
Watch the video and maybe see what I mean. Some of you will recognize this, others definately won't, but the video represents an important formative part of my life!

http://nl.youtube.com/watch?v=dHYmr3_qU5Y

(I'm afraid you're going to have to cut and paste because I can't seem to figure out how to get a link in here! Tomorrow I'll ask Marinda to give me a hand.)

More memories

During my rummage through my box of memories I didn't only find my diary, but I found some lose pictures as well. What to think of a picture of my classmates from 3rd grade? I will scan it and post it on facebook to show to those classmates who can also be found on there. Looking through my box brought the hugest grin to my face. I stood there in my uncomfortable attic, next to the dryer which isn't working yet, hunched over this box in the most unhandy way, but I couldn't have cared less. It was great to feel the past re-live, also in the context of just having been back to Ethiopia. Makes things that much more real. I even found an entry in one of the diaries about an old boyfriend of mine and why we had broken up. Funny thing is that we saw eachother for a short while in Ethiopia and I could hardly remember anything about him. Reading the entry brought some of the memories back. And to my astonishment, I discovered that my memory had failed me in some details! I guess time distorts memories more than I'd like to think it does. And writing things down really does help to remind you! I hope this blog will have the same function for me a couple of years from now.

Flashback

Looking through my box of memories last night, I ran into the following entry in a diary I had to keep when I was 9. I will copy it here, including all the errors.

January 4, 1980



Dear Diary,



Today I will tell you about the most fun things that happend during these two weeks. On Christmas night we had a guest. We ate sweet-bread an raisen-bread for supper. For desert we ate strawberries-with-cream. Later I begged and begged to open our presents. My mom said okay. I got about seven presents with lots of candy. Later I read my book called Treasure in the fog. I went to bed a little later then 9:00. On wednesday it was my brothers birthday. On tuesday my brother had fallen into a box and had hurt his wrists. On Wednesday we found out that they were broken. I went to the hospital with my brother for his cast. His birthday party was no fun. That night we had guests for supper. Then at 12:00 we had to give eachother kisses but insted of kissing my sister I bit her. We went to bed at 12:30. One night (I don't rembrer what date) my Mom, Dad, my sister and I went to eat at koceb. Later we went to seey hiyenas. We saw one. On Tuesday we went to Awasa. We stayed in a little house. We swam in a little pool and had loads of boring fun.



Your friend,



Elise

Mixed feelings

One of the things that has really struck me this trip is how our different personalities and circumstances influence the way we experience this trip. By we I mean my little family unit, but also my roots; brother and sisters and parents. Each person carries with them their own history, expectations, feelings, hopes and dreams and that leads to totally different experiences. What I perceive as a wonderful time may be really miserable to someone else. The way you wake up in the morning inflluences your mood obviously, but also the way you look at your past, at who you are as a person. We all carry our bagage with us and it influences us in so many ways! I know I'm stating the obvious, but somehow being here has made me so much more aware of it.

Maybe I'm so much more conscious of it because I feel that we have all shared the same experiences in the past. And to a certain degree that is true of course. We all grew up here, at least partly. The other day we discovered that we all lived here for a different amount of years! That is one difference, our ages are another, and our family positions. I think what I need to realize from this is that each person is unique. My past is mine, not someone elses. My experiences here and now are unique to me, I can't generalize them and simply assume that others are having the same good time as I am. This counts for all experiences, not only this one. It's important to be respectful of each persons "eigenheid" (dutch word meaning that which belongs to a person, that which makes a person unique). That way I can be sure that I can be open for how others experience things and that I will not let my own judgement cloud how I react to others.

Home sweet Home?

It's only been one evening here in Addis and it feels almost like I've never left. So it also doesn't feel very emotional, just welcoming and comfortable and homey! Those feelings are obviously also emotions but not the ones I expected. I though I would be crying on every street corner while memories hit me right and left. But I actually didn't remember anything much until we were almost home. And things have really really changed. That was to be expected, obviously, after 18 years! Things have shrunk most awefully. What I thought of as miles of space has turned into meters somehow. Does the world shrink when you get older or something?

I walked around the compound with Herman, showed him all the corners, but the kids were too zonked after not sleeping all night in the airplane. I'm sure more memories will come as I wander around here.

I love where we're staying here the feel of this house, the space in it and around it! It's wonderful to smell the eucalyptus and the occasional diesel fumes mixed with a bit of poop. Very ethiopian!

I'm really looking forward to the rest of the time here and am secretly hoping that I will get hit by some stronger emotions some time soon!

Leprosy

When I was fourteen and living in Louisiana, I was diagnosed with leprosy. By accident actually. I had had a white patch on my knee for a while and just for the heck of it my dad decided to give it a sensitivity test. Leprosy attacks nerves, making them less sensitive. Well, the joke was on me because that test turned into a number of tests, including several skin biopsies. And finally the diagnosis that I was indeed practically the only young white girl on the planet to have leprosy. Believe me, it's pretty unique! A total of two, no three, documentaries about leprosy have been made with my story playing a roll in them. That part of it has been fun! When I was 18 I travelled to Nepal for a documentary there, and when I was 20 I went back to the States (where I was originally diagnosed) for a documentary there. Not bad!
It was stressful having leprosy in the States though. I had many worried moments because there was such a taboe around it. My best friend at that time knew about it, also because her father was our doctor and worked in the same leprosy hospital as my dad did at that time. I had panicked moments when I had bandages from the skin biopsies and was worried people would ask what that was for. I couldn't lie, I really couldn't! So I just prayed and prayed nobody would ask. Nobody did either!
I think that was the biggest problem. Not the leprosy itself but the tremendous amount of ignorance that surrounds it. And the total panic that americans can get into sometime. Yes, I am discriminating, but really the reactions to us living and working at the leprosy hospital were just aweful in their stupidity. It even went so far that some of the nuns working in the hospital felt that I should be exempt from swimming in the swimming pool. (the chances of catching leprosy like that are totally nihil). So I spent the month september not swimming and telling people that I prefered reading instead. A vague untruth that I only just managed to tell.
All in all it's a strange time to look back on.