an object in motion

The first of Newton's laws may be a tad more transcendent than he had intended. Anytime I travel, it seems to stir up more wanderlust.

I recently got back from visiting old friends for the holidays. I've spent the past four Christmases with them, and one of the things I always look forward to is the way they've been able to preserve memories from our time in Senegal so well. I don't know if it's just when I'm there, but the nostalgia is downright tangible.

The inherent problem with this nostalgia is that dredging up all those memories of adventure and internationality bring on an ache for movement and change. Every time I had to re-explain what it is I'm doing in Knoxville and what my plans are for next year/the future, I become less and less excited about the prospect of putting down roots here. Being with those people and completely cut off from my community in Knoxville gave me the freedom to dream about infinite possible alternative futures, set in exotic locales and punctuated by transience.

But those longings dissipated just as quickly as they came on as soon as I rolled back into Knoxville. What had felt like a jail cell slowly closing became a warm blanket enfolding me. But still, in the back of my mind, there's a slight itch in my feet.

Wanderlust, inspired by travel.

Permanence, inspired by stability.

 
 

bookends

On the occasion of more than 40% (soon to be 100%) of my immediate family being on the same continent again after 2 years, I nostalgically began rifling through old photos from high school and Senegal. I had the privilege of being the official unofficial cameraman/paparazzi for the last couple years of high school, and being an self-diagnosed hoarder, still have 6gb (3,791 files) worth of photos from junior and senior years stashed in a musty corner of my hard drive. It got me wondering what the oldest photo in those archives would be, so I did a little digging and thought I would share my findings.

Date: 9-8-2004 3:52:55PM
Shutter: 1/125 sec
Aperture: F2.8
Description: Local shop (or "boutique") owner, Tapha, hands me a small, buttered loaf commonly referred to as "pain beurre", as he covers his face with scrap paper so I can't steal his soul. Dude laughs in the background.

So for those of you unfamiliar with the daily life of an MK (missionary's kid) high schooler in Dakar, Senegal: this was a pretty common scene. We'd get out of school at 3, then just hang out for an hour or two, play soccer, sit in the air conditioned computer lab, cause mischief, etc. Tapha's boutique was the closest source of quazi-nourishment, a quarter mile down the road, and thus received the patronage of parched and hungry toubab (white folk) teenagers who had a hankering for
1. Coke (real Coke, made with cane sugar in glass bottles): 500 CFA - $1
2. Fanta Cocktail (a delicious version they don't supply here in the States, complete with unidentifiable "floaty bits"): 500 CFA - $1
3. Pain beurre (a small loaf of brioche, smeared with a hefty serving of butter): 200 CFA - $0.40
4. Something else. Tapha supplied a smattering of other goods, occasionally including ice cream products, and very occasionally including American brand soft drinks, but I didn't often find the need to purchase tomato paste or individual cigarettes at 3:52:55 PM on most days.

The covering of the face would, I assume, relate to an Animistic belief that when you are photographed, a part of your soul is stored in the image. I would also assume that it was being done in jest on Tapha's part, as the dude in the background is greatly amused, and because Tapha is a staunch Muslim, complete with daily prayer and a handful of wives.

In contrast, here's the most recent image on my hard drive, creating photographic bookends of sorts. Neat-o!

Date: 6-4-2011 2:11:52 PM
Shutter: 1/250 sec
Aperture: F6.3
Description: At Beardsley's Farm Fest, Brian gives me the 'ole thumbs ups, as he and Jarius carry a cooler for the Cruze Farm girls, in hopes that their chivalry will result in free ice cream. It did.