Cottage Industry

Now that I think about it, this innocuous little pink and green cottage is where some of the worst times of my life took place. And I've had some really horrible times over the past decade, you best believe.

But for purposes of this blogpost, let's start with the Holiday Season, 2007. I'd been in Gulu, Uganda for about 7 months at that point, except for the time I spent back in the US when my sister Julie died. The only thing that saved my own life that Christmas was the fact that I was completely numb. Shock and extended trauma can be a blessing sometimes, I guess. When I remember opening the last box Julie ever sent me on the day after Christmas, and DIDN'T completely lose my damn mind, I can only conclude that my nerve-endings were completely blunted, by a mixture of cheap Ugandan banana gin and grief.

And then there was the New Year's Eve generator explosion while I was in that cottage, on that compound, by myself--except for the guard who was a former child soldier for the Lord's Resistance Army. If you asked me today to go spend three weeks on a lonely acre with him, I'd cuss you out. But I did it back then, because I honestly felt like I had nothing left to lose.

And then a few hours after the generator was mended, I battled a huge-assed moth that kept dive-bombing while I cowered under a mosquito net. I think my time in Gulu made me a bit less afraid of all creatures that creep, crawl, and flutter--but not much. I had to battle the damn things on a daily basis, so after a while you tend to develop a bit more nerve.

In fact, I stopped being afraid of a lot of things during my time in Northern Uganda.

I left Gulu in February 2008 with mixed feelings...grateful to be heading back to "civilization," but sad to be leaving the kind of work I'd come to love. And the solitude and quiet of that cozy little cottage was actually quite restful in hindsight. Lonely more often than not, granted, but that kind of quiet nothingness forces you to either go crazy or work through some thangs.

And now three years later, I'm spending another quiet New Year's Eve, alone. But hey, at least there ain't no ex child soldiers around! And for some reason, I feel like I'm breaking the holiday curse that began in this little pink and green cottage three years ago. On New Year's Eve 2008, I was too stunned to care what the future brought. Twelve months later, the numbness had worn off, and while I've never told anybody, I was so depressed, in so much pain, I wasn't sure I wanted to see what 2009 would bring.

I spent last New Year's Eve watching my beloved Twilight Zone Marathon in Brooklyn, after spending a wonderful evening with my sister friend Marcy. As I've recently explained, this was just a few days after my Christmas Day brush with terrorism at Detroit Metro Airport. I was probably still a bit dazed, but for all the right reasons. I was alive, and I was in my homeland, and I'd consumed several corned beef sandwiches by then, and was really content with my life. It didn't matter that for one mo' 'gin, I still wasn't going to be kissing a man, my man, at midnight.

And now, here I am winding up another holiday season. I spent a really marvelous Christmas Eve dinner with my "Cousin George," his wife Carole and their family and friends. Christmas Day was spent with my buddy Monique and her next door neighbor, Rev. Phyllis, an American married to a Kenyan man, and who knows how to burn in the kitchen! I'm talking turkey and dressing, mac and cheese, candied real live "AMERICAN" sweet potatoes, the whole nine yards. We even sang Christmas carols, and I remembered most of the words to "The Little Drummer Boy," which really impressed the crowd.

At present, I'm lounging on my couch in suburban Nairobi, hoping I can stay awake long enough to experience Midnight at the Oasis, 2011. Still alone, still not entirely certain about what the future will bring. Will I usher in 2o12 on American soil? Will I be a 50-year-old newlywed? Will I be alive and healthy, employed and overjoyed, or poor in pocket and spirit?

Will I be able to completely close the door on the cottage industry of focusing on what I don't have, or will I find a way to be perpetually grateful for what is????