Recipe for a Meltdown

Thursday, May 3

Mix together:

3 nights poor sleep above 7,000’ elevation

2 nights staying up late preparing to teach

0 showers since leaving the U.S.

5 days of no exercise

15 runny-nosed, coughing, fly-pestered 5 year olds

1 chilly evening in a concrete building

1 bunk bed with hard mattress and fleas

3 meals totaling less than 1,000 calories

1 upset belly

1 toilet that isn’t clean and doesn’t flush

Combine relentlessly. Eliminate any sense of control of one’s environment or situation.

Once weepy and clock strikes eight, plug in LL2H (Life Line to Home, aka “power converter”); because your Mac power plug is heavy and pulls the converter from the wall, prop a board against it so you can work on your computer while it charges. Begin to feel claustrophobic for lack of Internet.

Spend 10 minutes attempting to quiet anxious mind.

Listen for a loud “pop.” Sniff the air for burning electrical-type stuff. Listen for crackling noises. In one continuous, very swift motion, yank power cord from computer, leap from bed, tear aside board, wrench smoking LL2H from wall. While staring helplessly at sizzling LL2H, disregard flickering lights and ensuing loss of power. Do not look out the window; when you look out the window anyway, pay no attention to the fact that all of the other edifices within view still have power.

Use remaining text messages to whine to loved ones.

To remove yourself from your discomfort, arbitrarily begin reading It’s Not Okay with Me, by Janine Maxwell, about the millions of orphans—“street children”—as young as toddlers—in Africa. [Her experience in Kenya {about the size of Oklahoma,  Kansas, Nebraska combined}, revolves around those who live in protective little pods “inside” piles of garbage; whose parents are dead from AIDs; who are victim to sexual and physical brutality in the name of survival; who are thrown into juvenile prisons for crimes such as stealing food only to be further abused and raped by corrupt prison officials; and who inhale soda-bottle cocktails of gasoline and paint thinner to relieve them of their reality.]

Have a real sense of who these children are after having feed more than 500 street people—many children—the day before. Have a real sense of how close in proximity they are to you (not “half way around the world”) at this very moment.

Scratch flea bites.

Feel grateful to have enough experience with “complete comfort” to feel inconvenienced by itchy flea bites.

Heaps of gratitude to everyone who tolerated my self-pity party that night and for the many offers to send my items from my "Wish I'd Brought List." :) I'll survive. Between time, cost, and corruption, I'd never see anything mailed here, but deeply appreciate people wanting to send me a hug in the form of Clorox Wipes or bug spray!