How I took Sabbatical Leave (from Blogging)

It occurred to me of late...rather for a while but I finally got around to formalizing this occurrence...that I've been a poor blogger for quite some time. Senior year of college has been quite the experience. The fall semester finished out well and I moved out of my apartment and into an intentional community house for the spring semester.

I went to New York for Christmas and to Atlanta and Passion 2010 for New Years. I've lived through two major record breaking snowstorms which brought me endless delight watching the huge white flakes pile up and my hours in the classroom plummet thanks to delays and snow days. I planned an intercollegiate peace fellowship conference, I'm preparing to academically publish and I've become more involved in my school and faith communities. I'm a biker chick, a fairly decent cook, an up-and-coming sociologist peacebuilder and a stronger coffee addict than ever.

Now, seven weeks left in my spring semester until the biggest day of my life thus far...college graduation. My mom is coming from Sudan, my grandparents from New York and my aunt and uncle from East Virginia. And then, summer in DC to finish up a final three classes and an internship in the city. Come August, we'll see where this blogger ends up, hopefully in deepest darkest blog inspiring Africa...or Europe because a mean dark espresso can be found there.

Until then, I'm on academic sabbatical, fitting it all those details and classes, and papers, and exams. We'll see how much blogging can happen between now and grad. You'll hear about grad. For sure.

How Global Nomads Lack Social Capital

I was sitting in small group today for one of my classes.

This in an unremarkable statement. I sit in a lot of small groups...uh...three small groups...and pairs for international relations...and we pair for methods too...(I'm a loner for the methods project...but actually, that was unintended). It's rather amazing as my school is so small, my department even smaller, and my classes smaller still, I have the same partner in two classes. I have no idea what this says about my uni or my education, except we form lots of social capital.

Oh yes...sitting in small group. This is indeed unremarkable except we were pondering the challenges of social capital. I wondered (as I often wonder), how easy is to mobilize global nomads? We're a social group with generally shared values and norms. We have massive social networks, right? If we are a social group, then what are our natural resources, infrastructures, human and social capitals? I have no idea but yet we are a culture, a group of people holding to the common understanding that we are abnormally normal and better off for it.

I decided that we don't really have a defined identity; we know who we're not, but we don't really know what we are aside from the self-imposed term "global nomad." We self-identify with other groups with more concrete values...Aussi, footie player, uni grad, family-person, Asian/African/male/female. Global nomad?
That's just too hard to explain so we marginalize that side of ourselves. It's impossible to kill it but what are you supposed to do when so many other social groups can't relate to that part of you? And so we live our lives, form our social networks but are largely unaware of the nomadic culture we've formed and even less aware of our social capital resources.

And it all started while sitting in small group with a Kenya, a Syrian, and an Indiana Mennonite...

How to Deal with Fall (Autumn)

There are some of us...who never have to deal with the four seasons. Four seasons to me growing up, was a pizza which our family liked because everyone got what they wanted. However, in this place called the Northern Hemisphere, the weather includes more then simply the rainy season and the sunny season.

Thus far, my thoughts on autumn are inconclusive. I don't quite know what I think but I don't like whatever it is. I'm used to continuous life; sunshine, grass, palm trees, colors and shades of life always sharing their joy with me. Flowers never die. The swimming pool is always welcome and the grass always needs cutting. Yes this sounds like an idealist seeing the world through rose-colored lenses but for years, this is my sense of reality; continuous sunshine.

Dropping back to United States in winter wasn't a problem. It was just an alternate reality. Spring was exciting, even magical as I saw the reality I know come back to me. Summer was a healing balm to my very soul. Now we have fall (autumn). I'm not sure what I think about that. Granted the sun still shines for the most part. Granted the leaves changing their colors is extraordinary, another alternate reality. But...I find myself grieving. There's a sense of finality about seasons. It's sad. Other's see the beautiful colors of fall. For me, it's like seeing everything I know and love...the trees, the warm weather, the weekend biking...die. I liked winter because of that foreign element, but I don't like getting there.

Right now, people around me hear my whinging about fall as I layer on more clothes then normal people consider normal. Perhaps fall will redeem itself as time progresses but as the chipper girl from Southern Africa...I may just whinge through it and on till next spring.

How to Know When a Place is Home

As the end of my third week of my last year in uni draws to a close, I contemplate, have I even done anything interesting? Tragically, I concluded that I haven't. Interesting and I have parted in such different directions that domestic-ed Americana thinks it has a shot at me. Perhaps I exaggerate (or do I?) but I acutely feel that life has become a pursuit of the minute and I lose track of the bigger and finer things of life. Why just today, I was enjoying a spin around Hburg on my bike...delighting in the sunshine...and whinging internally that I never got out on my bike because I have so much homework...and then I realized...I had actually taken a two hour ride the day before.

When you realize time is passing quickly, you realize you're beginning to feel at home. When faces you'd know vaguely before smile at you, you realize you're beginning to feel at home. When you know where to find the freshest fruit, when certain roads are busy, and especially once you've mastered the dress code...you realize that you're beginning to make a foreign environment your home. It's a universal truth that you don't have to love any one place as soon as you move there or for the following months. You don't have to be eternal committed to a place to make it "home." You just have to create a few routines, make a few friends and solemnly promise yourself you're going to try and not make an idiot of yourself learning local customs.

This is my country. This is where I'm supposed to belong. Even though my classmates look like me and speak with a similar accent, I'm still a global nomad who's picked Hburg as my foreign assignment. Like adapting to any new country, I've got though the hardest months and the humiliation of looking like a clueless idiot over and over again (and had to shudder past the hippy-eque dress code, just wasn't feeling it). This is the part where I start to enjoy my new posting. It might never be home, but like any foreign culture, it can feel almost like home...

How to Survive Your Last First Day of School

The first week of university is quite standard globally. We all encounter very similar sentiments. We all lose our nerve and question our constant inclination towards stupid decisions. Even though this is my last first-day-of-school, this was also my first day of school. I was taught at home...and then I had that stint with online uni....so I never formally showed up for a first day of school anywhere. (I'm a global nomad. Of course it doesn't make sense.) Because this is so novel, I will document my first week for future reference and to compare against other uni systems.

1) I panicked. One must always panic because...well I panicked because I'm taking 18 credit hours, ie. full time plus some. I've never taken seven classes before. Previously the most I ever did was six but this time I have math comp so I have extra reason to whinge endlessly. Nonetheless, like any former Zimbabwean resident you think to yourself..."gotta make a plan."

2) I panicked encore. I'm living in an apartment with two girls I knew as acquaintances before. I thought it would be great because they're social butterflies and I'm an academic hermit who needs physiologic help. Still, when you're family drives away headed back to Sudan and you're standing in the middle of Southern Virginia with your mountain of stuff...obviously...you really panic...and then you have a meltdown...and then...well...you suck it up and tell yourself like any true Zimbabwean..."I'm goin' to make a plan."

3) You panic still again. This time you get your course syllabus and you're shocked your profs have the audacity to think you've got thousands of hours to devote to their class alone. You quickly realize, you're going to have no life. It's a horrible feeling but still again, like any person who ever tolerated the Robert Mugabe regime, you remind yourself..."I need to make a plan."

4) You panic a final time. You realize, this is the last time you'll ever be a student. Sure post-grad is always an option but...if this is your last first-day-of-school...that means you're old! You think of all you've done, and all you haven't done. Your panic melts into melancholy and you remember those hideous clothes you wore in middle school (at least I do) and the boys you crushed as a high school fresher (gosh I was an idiot). You sigh and think of the good days and realize just how much a global nomad you are because you're still uttering comments such as..."I'll just make a plan..."

How I Got Back to Uni (Final Edition)

I made a decision towards the beginning of the summer. A commitment. A choice. A willful obligation though I shuddered and whinged internally. I am going to make it through uni.

This was not at all an easy decision. Obviously, living in Southern Virginia with a slew of white people between the ages of 18 and 22 committed to recycling and late night dumpster diving, is hardly my first choice. Like any true global nomad, I have no idea where I want to be...but it has to be...outrageous...in a bizarre global nomad sense. I need to live a life sustaining pleasant personal diversions and dangerously exciting vacations. It's simply part of being a global nomad...it's hard to explain it any other way.

Today I moved into my dorm, bidding farewell to my wonderful summer and committing myself to social death. I contemplated the significance of facing my fears and coming back to uni. It's a lot like moving to a new country so I should be able to handle it better but it's still difficult. These people look like me, they have the same mother-tongue as me and they eat the same food and celebrate the same holidays...but it's not easy.

For me, finishing uni is a commitment to making good choices. It means overcoming homesickness for my family who currently live in Sudan who can't make it back for my graduation. It means learning to make the most of the moment while realizing that I did pick the school for the academics and that comes first. It means putting things in boxes and removing other things from mental boxes as it relates to my global nomadic understandings of life. It means learning when to speak up and when to silently affect change in my own way. There are always lessons to learn.

This is my final year of undergrad. I've only got a year left. I've no idea where I'll be this time next year; terrifying...thrilling...I need coffee to help me calm down. So...here's to the future! School has come back around.

How to Attend a Demolition Derby

Welcome to the County Fair!

Just when you think you've defined "Americana." As if that was even possible in such a big country. Being in America affords many interesting, interesting experiences and the demolition derby is surely one of the most interesting of the many interesting American experiences.

1) You must expect to be deaf. The demolition derby is rough on the ears. You will lose you hearing and you will wish you lost your hearing to your favorite band's concert, not because eight cars were raving in the mud. At the beginning, the sound will give you a migraine but towards the end when there are only a few left battling it out, it's bearable.

2) You must sit back in the bleachers. The cars are lined up in a mud pit and after the crowd countdown, they attack each other. I questioned the mud before I realized the velocity would have otherwise been dangerous to these remarkable pieces of car-art. The mud goes flying.

 3) You must realize, it's entertainment. Basically, it's a bunch of gloriously painted old cars smashing each other up until one is left standing. We start with little trucks, then bigger trucks, then little cars, bigger cars, and finally, the giant clunkers which are all solid mental and fail to dent. These cars are then refirbished and they do it again, and again....and again...

It's a priceless experience. You'll realize how wonderfully diverse this country is. It's just....awesome.