a little milk

So many of you who actually read this with some diligence and attention have asked me about my new blog site name - as opposed to the very original jaclyn714barnhart name. Allow me to explain.

1. Here in Rwanda, as I would imagine elsewhere in the developing world, milk is common enough, but anything other than whole milk is a rare commodity. While some of you out there enjoy this almost straight-from-the-animal fluid, I am not among you. I prefer skim milk. In truth, I am not much of a milk fan - I was allergic to milk when I was born. But in Rwanda, there are various things with milk in them that I thoroughly enjoy, such as African tea: tea (generally Rwandan black tea) milk, ginger, perhaps a bit of nutmeg, and a lot of deliciousness. So I have been consuming a ton of whole milk in my tea and coffee, not to the pleasure of my stomach of waistline.

2. This second reason requires a bit of foundation. On one of my favorite television shows, there is a memorable conversation between a main character and her current boyfriend. They come from different cultures - she is American; he is Russian. She has just discovered that her bestfriend has been diagnosed with cancer, and he, trying to be empathetic, says his friend died of cancer. Obviously, he comes off like an insensitive jerk. They argue until they realize they are simply suffering from a communication barrier due to a cultural misunderstanding. She then says, "I guess I just need to take my relationship with a little milk," meaning sometimes you need something to soften the blows; otherwise the harshness and bitterness of it all may be a little too much.

Such an idea seemed very fitting for me (and for everyone). Life is hard. Sometimes at the end of the day, you feel tired and defeated and wonder why we're here and what your struggles are worth. You need a little milk to temper it all and let you know you can and it's worth it. So two questions - what's your milk, and what's its origin?

Milk can have a number of consistencies - from very light to heavy. For me, milk can be both an activity that makes me feel most like myself or an idea to fully support, regardless of the idealist nature of it. For example, in Rwanda some of the things that have highlighed my time here are milk things:

- attending the Rwanda Film Festival
- salsa dancing at Pasadena
- discovering that I deemed valuable at UOB, regardless of what I view my niche to be

The Rwanda Film Festival featured a number of engaging, provocative documentaries in a number of languages about a variety of topics. Often the filmmaker was present to answer questions afterwards. Those of you who know me well know I have no qualms about attending movies alone - and so I did. I resolutely wanted to watch these movies with or without company and had a great time alone. One of the films was about albinism in East Africa - What is albinism? How do others perceive albinos and their condition? Do albinos consider themselves disadvantaged or disabled? What do they consider their identity? It was fascinating. I met the filmmaker and bought the dvd - awesome souvenir.

Since I discovered Pasadena, I have made a deliberate effort to go salsa dancing every week. I have established myself there as a "really good dancer" regardless of my muzungu appearance. I dance as much as possible and love every minute of it, completely unaware of the damage I am doing to my feet. Not expecting such dance opportunities here (and packing under tight restrictions), I did not bring my dance shoes to Africa but was forced to buy some cheap though surprisingly cute shoes when the chance arose. They are not ideal by any means, but they are shoes. I can dance in them. Side note on shoe shopping here: Shoes are not available row after row. While the store may have a rather wide selection of models, they only have a few sizes available in each model. You may want a smaller size, but too bad. That's all they have.

At Pasadena, there is a small dance floor in the middle of a bar/restaurant which is illuminated with a few spotlights. Everyone in the restaurant sits around with their chairs directed toward the dance floor to watch the dancing. Ordinarily, I would be far too nervous to dance under these conditions, but I hadn't danced in over a month. And again, those of you who know me at all know that dancing is milk to me. A light milk, but milk in any form can impart significant changes on one's life. Dancing here is remarkable to me because I let go of my worries about what others may think of my dancing and of my technique to an extent - and simply have fun. I hope this continues upon my return. Of course I have my favorite partners - Crazy Jimmy from Congo and Cesar from Venezuela. Not only are they good leaders with awesome moves, but they also want you to have fun and are really into whatever they are doing.

Like a Barnhart, I enjoy being busy and knowing that what I am doing has a meaningful purpose. Therefore, I am happiest at UOB when I know this is the case. Regardless of whether what I am doing seems earth-shattering to me, I have realized the work I am doing is very meaningful to others at UOB who sincerely appreciate my efforts. That is perhaps cream.

But all these thoughts about my sources of milk got me thinking about hope in general? I would generally consider myself an optimist for better or worse. I was talking to Cesar, another optimist, the other night about the state of affairs in the world. We both decided that we prefer to be optimists, though much of the time we cannot account for why we are such. Why do I have hope? Perhaps it's only because I cannot imagine living without it. Life must have milk. Why question its bountiful production?