Living overseas has a peculiar way of making one know who they are, and who they aren't. This is the eighth time in the past six years I've spent more than a month abroad; the longest period being nine months in Thailand and the shortest a month in Turkey and Cyprus. Yet, with more than two years of experience abroad, struggles with cultural difference and periods of intense homesickness continue to wash over me in unpredictable waves. Though few and far between were my entries, I find it paradoxically comforting and disconcerting to read old journals from in-between times in Tennessee. There were periods, typically upon re-entry, that everything about "home" was glorified--the weather, food, coffee shops and bars, access to the outdoors and various hobbies, and most of all, familiar people doing familiar things, especially family. As I read past the initial months in the journal, the sinking feeling of wistfulness and ancy yearnings for the uniqueness and erratic dealings of life beyond my own culture are apparent in my writing. Unfortunately, I haven't found that perfect place in the world where I and everyone else are happy all the time.
I'm learning various disciplines at the moment. Many virtues become important when you're tossed headlong into another society. I think its because the abstractions are all that's left to hold onto. Currently, patience and perseverance top the list. Time doesn't operate the same way here. Everything moves according to events, not the clock. So, as we plan out our workday, I have to account for the many teas I'll drink and the social aspect of completing projects and buying parts. With Western deadlines, this can be incredibly stressful.
Perseverance comes with both language and work. I run around town for lots of parts; explaining issues I don't know much about, mainly electrical and mechanical, in a language I don't know very well. Its been a long while since I've been this exhausted, almost to the point of sickness. My body feels chewed up, mashed and beaten by the machines. It feels like betrayal to work this hard, this many hours, and still see the enormous labor necessary to get over the first year "hump", which actually feels like the highest mountain in the whole damn world, only without the splendor. Last night I was driving to a business meeting and tears came to my eyes as I thought of finishing this year's harvest and milling. I've never worked through anything near as difficult as the things Natalie and I have faced since last December. Afghanistan, two months "homeless" at home, and now Iraq (actually Kurdistan, but most are unaware).
For Natalie, I know for certain the greatest difficulty has not been the difference in gender roles, finding the right job, or even physical security; it has been the distance, the isolation from family and friends, missing out on key events. But not only for the important happenings, also and especially she has craved being with them for the day-in and day-out experience of life as a unit. They are a tight bunch, and indeed, I am a lucky man to be part of their lovely crew.
For us, it has been challenging to face the changes, pressures, and questions that arise from living here. In our first 18 months of marriage, we've had to discuss everything from our deepest insecurities, which penetrate many layers of identity, to the concept of death as it applies to each of us. All of these intense topics have tested us, and so far, they have only caused our love to grow. We are learning the art of quarreling and pushing through challenging circumstances. It is only an art because we are committed to winning as a couple both in arguing and facing the trials around us. Every day, my heart grows fonder, not in spite of the disagreements and demanding externalities, but because of them. I suppose this isn't very logical, but what does make sense is clinging to one another as the storm rages on.
For me, I have certainly missed my family, my close friends, and especially spending time with all of my little nephews and new niece. I miss Sunday lunch at my grandparents, and heading to the river with my dad and brothers for the afternoon. I miss visiting my sister's farm. Work has consumed me to the point that it rules many of my thoughts, even my dreams at night. It may be because I'm working mostly in areas I would consider myself quite weak, in a stupendously hard place to do any sort of work. But, it's also likely I'm afraid of the responsibilities and look for a way to justify the freedom of doing something easy. Indeed, it is enticing to give up, to quit. Maybe I could work at a coffee shop and spend my free time committed to hobbies, hunting and fishing, outdoors, small scale farming, and doing the many things I'm unable to do here. It may be that one day this will happen (aside from working at a coffee shop), and I hope it does. But for now, I press on in hope that what we do here could change a city, a region, or even the world in some small way.
