I feel like every day there’s someone new living here, or just passing through. I’m told I have another grandmother who’s been on an extended trip to the Gambia but will be coming home soon. People tell me this like I’m supposed to care.
I don’t understand all these attachments I’m supposed to have for people I don’t know. I come home from two days out of town and everyone tells me how much they missed me. I repeat in kind, but my heart’s not in it. When I bike 30k to town to visit the post office and Internet, everyone asks me why I forgot to visit so and so? Funny thing really - I didn’t forget!
The constant social interaction is far and above the most difficult part for me. I don’t mind the living conditions, the food’s miserable but there’s an upside to that, and lousy transportation means I’m getting in better shape, etc… but damn these people talk a lot. I’ve taken to getting up earlier than I ever have in my life just to get a morning walk in before the rest of the world is walking around trying to greet me.
Someone came to visit the compound last night and stayed the night. This morning he sort of chastised me for going to bed early instead of getting to know him. I wanted to say I had no interest in “getting to know” him. He was nice though, so I just explained that after I’ve helped with the dinner dishes that becomes my private time. It’s a totally foreign concept, but no one challenged me on it.
Note: Business hours for me usually end around 9 or 9:30, when I go into my hut and close the door. Everyone else hangs out and talks for another two hours, but I require my private time. Fortunately this is something my family seems to accept, it's the random visitors who hassle me.
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