I must write! A lo largo de un día, como hoy, domingo, paso horas pensando en las cosas que podría escribir en este blog, pero al fin no les escribo porque ¡hay tan mucho que escribir! Sería imposible escribirlo todo.
Je ne sais pas pourquoi mais au tours d’un jour tel qu’aujourd’hui je passes d’heures entière à penser à ce que je pourrais écrire ici au blog, mais je finis toujours par rien écrire, puisque il serait impossible de l’écrire tout.
Non lo capisco per niente pero tutti i giorni, come questo – è domenica – passo un ora all’altra pensanda a le cose che potrei scrivere in questo blog ma alla fine non ne scrivo niento perchè tutto mi viene troppo, mi sembra una cosa così dificile da fare che non la faccio. Pero qui scrivero qualcosa per mettervi al corrente della mia vita.
I do not understand it. The three paragraphs above all discuss the same thing, though the one in Italian expands upon the first two. I often feel overwhelmed by all of the things that happen to me, not because they are bad, on the contrary they feel my life with happiness. But because I feel the need to write them all this is impossible. Nonetheless, through writing at least I allow some of my memories to come back to life.
Today was a most wonderful day! I realized how blessed I am – again, but I was also convicted of how I take so much for granted. I spoke to my grandmother this afternoon, while I was alone at home. My mother has left to the coast for work and my brother, as per his habit since I got here from Princeton, is out on the weekends. In any case, my grandmother in Bulgaria lamented how none of us, neither me nor my brother, had even made a mention of the clothes they sent us via my mother who was in Bulgaria. I apologized and she accepted it saying “it’s ok this is just a critique from one friend (comrade) to another (how would you translate “drugarska kritika”?).
I feel this post must come to an end. But yes, I am grateful. For my family, for my ability to run to move as I did when I ran home this late afternoon from the cathedral, through town, through Windhoek West up the hill, past the open space set aside for our park – in Dorado Park (my “suburb” – but its just a stones through away from the city, so not a suburb in the American sense) and down the hill to my street. No I am going to give you my street name, next thing I know you’ll be stalking me psycho (actually if you are reading this you could only be a friend, because I give this address to friends only.)
I am applying for the Fulbright grant, at long last. I need to write a personal statement, but write now I am torn between two different directions. One will be to speak about AIDS and prisoners and how I want to do research that will contribute to our knowledge about people on the margins who are effectively “invisible”, João Biehl put in “Will To Live: AIDS and the Politics of Survival”. The other approach would be write about malaria and how it represents a problem that has to be approached from multiple aspects – population genetics of the parasite and people, statistical inquiries into indicators of disease and survival, medical diagnostics and diagnoses and of anthropological (sociological) aspects. But I do not yet have any experience with malaria in any way, while my job at the ministry of health last year brought me close to the problem of the marginalization of the prisons. But actually, I do have an experience with malaria! The two malaria professors at the University of Namibia! They both took me out to lunch on separate occasions.
The first time, the molecular biologist I spoke too (Professsor A) wanted me to volunteer in his group for his lab projects. This would have entailed doing Western blots and other lab procedures that take eons to do, such as knock out as well purification of certain plant matter in search of antimalarial activity. I turned him down because I am really more interested in the anthropological side and the very reason I am here in Namibia after Princeton is because I want to explore ways of research outside of the lab. Alright, he understood. So when Professor B (his name actually starts with B as well!) came and asked me if I would be willing to help him and A write a
review article about the anthropological aspects of malaria, for a pioneering Namibian academic journal, I was excited. But I soon realized I would need formal recognition – as member of their research group – for me to publish anything with them. When I asked them to give me formal status and a transport stipend (the cost of traveling to the University of Namibia each day from my house should be covered by them, since they approached me and I am volunteering, for Pete’s sake! – Do I know a Pete? Peter yeah, but no Pete, anyway). So Professor B said he would contact the head of the research group and he would come back to me. He never did, in spite of my calls.
I was then close to doing cool research on the primary literature – and looking at collected data from the ministry of health – for a malaria review article, but it feel through. Had I had my masters in epidemiology already, things would have been different, perhaps? So that is what I will write about for my Fulbright!
Dinner is ready! I baked rice with ground beef, carrots, peas and onions! I wanted to make really Bulgarian and ended up with something generic. Except there is 4ybritsa (Chubritsa) our signature Bulgarian spice in it.
I have switched off the oven, but I am not hungry. I had tarator (look it up) – a great Bulgarian dish – earlier and I feel somewhat full. Need to sleep!
Oh as for my GRE general test ! Maximum ponage, ETS will scarcely believe they were whopped by a test taker in Namibia! Perhaps both us whopped ETS’s ass, myself and this other young lady who took the test with me, it was just us too. She works for an American study abroad program that brings students to do a semester abroad in Namibia doing different social science research projects. I met three participating students – all lovely young ladies, Ruth-Anne Dohner, Jasmine and Jessica (do I remember their last names, no, but I pray they are doing well!). I may write to them soon.
Goodridance GRE, yes it is true what they say “third time’s a charm.”
P.S. I miss a lot of you my friends, at this moment, I am thinking of Christian Milan, Kate Poole (2D – co op people) and my wife Amanda Howard who more than three years ago proposed to me “ Do you want to have a facebook marriage?” after I remarked that so many of our peers at Princeton had hitched on the internet. Of course, I accepted to be her lawfully wedded wyfie.
I miss making bread – which I did not do much of at the co- op, except in the last few weeks of my life as student at Princeton. I made it about twice or three times and it was great!
Also, as for my aim to make Sunday a busy – normal weekday – where I am ultra productive: fail. This will not work, even if I do keep the Sabbath Friday- Saturday, in my own Jesus is my lover kind of way.
