Zambia 3, Emily –1

“It’s not even that I was ‘not stressing the small stuff’ or was being more mature, I’m just defeated. Zambia has defeated me.” KC commenting on the three hours she spent waiting for transport to leave in the afternoon, the half hour ride, —which deserves its own paragraph entirely— the hour she spent at her house trying to break in since she forgot her key, and the return travel to Serenje where she was forced to spend the night.

It’s not just KC it’s me too. Actually at least one day a week it’s everyone I know. I have begun to prefer that it come on a rainy day so then I don’t necessarily have to impose my seething demeanor upon an unsuspecting villager—although sometimes it can be quite cathartic. Some of us have hypothesized that, like your bladder, patience is a strength that is finite. You can tone your biceps and make them stronger but you can’t hold “it” all the time and expect to not be wearing depends when you’re 40. I don’t want to believe that my patience is like my 15 minutes of fame (which I’m saving for my hang gliding around the world in 40 days). I anticipate one day that I will get married and have kids, I feel like I might need as much as I can get to do that without going to prison.
So I’m hoping that it is finite on a daily basis. Everyday you get ten bars and maybe if you have a good provider you get roll over. Maybe the problem here is that you run down everyday, ring up overage charges, and end up flipping out at the end of the month. I still have about 16 months to come up with a conclusion. If you wait patiently and read diligently you can add it to your personal “Secrets of Life Manual.”