Postpartum Blues

Woke up to the sounds of drumming early this morning. It’s Eid al-Adha today, or the Feast of Sacrifice, when every one feasts on a butchered lamb (or goat). Actually, Eid al-Adha is an important religious holiday celebrated by Muslims worldwide to commemorate the willing of Ibrahim to sacrifice his son Ismail as an act of obedience to God, before God intervened to provide him with a sheep to sacrifice instead. Went to bed last night still unsure if the Day of Sacrifice was to be today or Monday...something about the head Imam deciding after a careful analysis of the moon. Anyways, the early morning sounds of drums mixed in with off-key fanfare music clued us in that the moon must have been just at the right place and that today would be a rather sad day for a lot of sheep.

I expected it to be a difficult week this week. It usually is, after a holiday, and the degree of bad-ness of the week usually correlates with the degree of fun-ness of the holiday. For me, its been a week of increased impatience with the lopsidedness of the world and society in which I find myself, and of a heightened cynicism towards the future of this temporary world and society. Although I’ve sensed this increased impatience and cynicism creep up on me ever since our making the decision to end our stay here at the end of this school year, the sense of disillusionment and vulnerability felt by me as well as by Madeleine has never been as strong as it has been this week.

I can’t really pinpoint what brought me into this deep slump. Could have been the frantic week at school with all the typical and exhausting starting-gate protocols of a new quarter beginning, pushing teachers to get their report cards out on time, processing the shipment of supplies that just came in and finding out that some of our stuff is gone missing...and not having any recourse to find the ‘stolen’ stuff. Perhaps it was getting used to the inconvenience of living here that got to me, the incessant heat, the dead slow internet, the limited food products, the lack of social outlets, and the constant and rampant begging on the streets and incessant soliciting of money by police who will think up of every imaginable reason for separating you from your money by discreetly transferring your money from your pocket to their pocket. (e.i - the above photo could have cost me a hefty fine had I not just walked away from the commotion of me taking the picture). Or perhaps it was getting used to the decrepit environment that surrounds us every second of our lives here, the garbage strewn everywhere and the potholed roads being driven on by dilapidated vehicles spewing lung numbing exhaust. Or maybe it could be that bizarre incident with Madeleine, when she was awakened last Monday in our bedroom by a black man rummaging through her drawer....yeah right, every white woman’s dream...a black man in her bedroom rummaging through her underwear. Not quite. I’ll let Madeleine go into details in one of her blogs. (Now how's that for one heck of a feature blog trailer that will get you to read her blog...!).

In any case, in the end, on Saturday, both Madeleine and I were pretty down, not out, but just down. So we walked to the pool, swam, laid around, and both decided to get a grip. We either continue wobbling in our third world defecation, or we shake it off, and choose to appreciate, even savor every moment of the rest of our time here in this unique place. Savor on!