Africa

Once upon a time an innocent (relatively), young (even more relative) Irish country lad came to Kenyan. After an initial period of being pointed at and called 'Muzungu'-White man, he came to be commonly known as Mr Mike. Mr Mike busied himself with all manner of IT related projects and enjoyed many highs, with only the odd "What the hell am I doing here!" moments.

Things happened in Africa that could never have been predicted. Who could have foreseen defeat at the feet of a 14 old girls soccer team; Or our intrepid volunteer being consulted on the design of a chain cutting machine, or helping out by drawing yellow arrows on the ground.

For you see, Africa is not predictable. Any given Tuesday you may be met by a picket line at work or armed policemen at the gate. A simple act of kindness from your neighbor can bring the realization that you are a valued part of the community. Implementing new payroll processes can mean that you, unintentionally, cause a family to go hungry. Saying that some historians surmise that Buddha and Jesus could have been one and the same, can lead to a sustained campaign by a colleague to save your soul from dark forces. We eventually agreed that everybody’s God is different, but in truth He is just the same.

He missed his Ma of course, and all his friends and family. He missed having a washing machine and the taste of a frothy pint of Guinness. He was poor by Western standards but well to do by third world ones. The lack of the merciless commercial onslaught he got at home meant that he, with time, forgot about all the new fangled accoutrements that would make his life easier and more modern. He never walked with his hands in his pockets, as it was just too damned hot. He sometimes walked hand in hand with male colleagues around Bombolulu cause that's just the way it is here. (But in truth it will always be a cultural adjustment beyond his comfort zone).

Side by side he worked with his African counterparts. Proud to call them friends. The Trocaire box pictures of his youth seem misplaced in memory. Come and see for yoursells. Mr. Mike ain't no preacher. That Muzungu doesn't have the answers.

He only has a vague idea as to what he'd do next year; but that's alright. When the time comes the decision will get made, and he’ll make the most of that decision till the next decision needs to be made.

I guess I’ll live happily ever after. That’s the plan anyways.

M.