A Million Feelings, A Thousand Thoughts, A Hundred Memories, One Person: Grandma Barrett

Grandma Barrett was most often found in the kitchen wearing an apron, humming to herself, making something delicious. As soon as we planned a visit she’d start baking our favourite treats and stocking the freezer, even if it was months in advance. The baking frenzy wouldn’t stop once we arrived. No matter how much she had already prepared, there was always an excuse to make more. I sometimes felt like a door-to-door salesman as we would deliver goodies to all the neighbours in the complex, and often drive further so as not to miss anyone who might need the encouragement of an edible hug. Grandma undoubtedly had the gift of hospitality, rarely making a meal for her and grandpa alone. Her family was never limited to those related by blood, but included anyone who needed a family. She expressed her affection and deep care for those around her through the tangible gift of cinnamon rolls, popcorn gumdrop cake, and jam jams, but it was clear to anyone who knew her for any amount of time, that her unwavering support was much stronger, her uncompromising generosity of spirit was much greater, and her love ran much deeper than any amount of time in the kitchen could ever express.

First comes shopping, then comes packing, then comes...flying back to Dakar

You may be familiar with the famous quote, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” You may not be so familiar with the saying, “A journey of 6, 637 km begins with a single shopping trip.” When I touch down in Toronto after having been overseas for a year, my return ‘journey’ begins almost immediately. With the knowledge that I will be leaving the country again in a few months, I am constantly on the lookout for items from Canada that will make my time in Dakar feel more like home. I start a list even before I leave Senegal, but the list grows exponentially when I’m back on home turf.

I’m sure I drive my friends and family nuts when we are grocery shopping, making a quick stop at Walmart, or even spending the day at St. Jacob’s market, because I am constantly talking about how much more convenient this Ikea cheese grater will be than the one I have in Dakar. Or, how nicely these candles will pack because they are in tins instead of glass. Or even when I ask, “Can you help me carry my 8 cake mixes?” I am like a squirrel greedily stockpiling for the winter all...summer...long. I know I drive my parents crazy, because they are not shy to offer their comments. “Do you REALLY need that charcoal grill?” “Are you sure you’ll have enough space for those bedside lamps?” And I, being the master justifier that I am, manage to come up with an acceptable excuse for each item, including the magic milk straws, and 2 kg  (4+ pounds) of candy. (It’s for the kids!!!)

My list often includes items such as Bath and Body Works hand soaps, sauce mixes, ziplock bags, Crystal Light drink mixes, certain spices, peanut butter, instant oatmeal, molasses (to make brown sugar which is not readily available in Dakar), craisins, sunscreen, bug spray, etc. The first few years living in Dakar I devoted 3 kg (6+ pounds) to Starbucks coffee each trip. However, in recent years two or three stores have opened in the city, that offer a wide variety of North American products. I definitely pay more here (approximately $ 8.00 CAD for a medium jar of peanut butter) but can save the weight for other necessities, and of course some luxuries, that are still not available locally.

This year I have moved to a new apartment on campus to be closer to the girls dorm where I provide coverage on the dorm parents’ night off. Being the nester that I am, this move created an additional category of purchasing and packing needs. Among the housewares were three canvas pictures, 4 varieties of material for throw cushions, the aforementioned lamps and candles, placemats, and a shower curtain.

I build my cache all summer, filling tote boxes to overflowing and the night before I leave for the airport, my friend Laura, packer extraordinaire, comes and magically makes everything fit into two hockey bags, one carry-on roller board suitcase, and one backpack.

The packing process itself begins a day or two before Laura comes. I take everything out of it’s packaging and consolidate it into ziplock bags. This makes things less bulky, but is especially important in the eventuality that the luggage is left out on the tarmac in the rain. The ONE time I packed myself (an unexpected trip) I arrived back in Dakar with soggy ramen noodles stuck to everything else in my bags. Yuck!

Just before Laura arrives I take over the living room of my parents’ house and lay everything out according to its category; clothing, food, housewares, technology, teaching ‘stuff’, and ‘stuff’ for other people. There is inevitably a pile for other people because friends who stayed in Senegal for the summer, or over the holidays will ask for a few items. Knowing the joy that a box of Kraft Dinner, a pound of Tim Horton’s coffee, or a bottle of a favourite salad dressing can bring, it’s impossible to say no. It’s a two-way street and I have also been on the receiving end of treasures from the homeland.

Once Laura arrives we start with my favourite part of the packing process; sealing the bags of clothes. We pull out the vacuum and watch a pile of t-shirts, dresses, and shorts magically reduced to half its size. We take turns using the vacuum so that we can both experience the excitement, while the other person attentively waits to pounce with the seal and cap.

Once the clothes are packed in their vacuum bags, everything else is carefully added, insulating my wardrobe. The final step is the weighing with my handy luggage scale. This is often the most entertaining part of the evening as we endeavor to hold a 25 kg (50 pound) hockey bag off the floor long enough to get a consistent weight reading. We have tried standing on a chair, we take turns, we laugh at ourselves, and there are high-fives when we are within an acceptable range, ESPECIALLY if it’s the first attempt.

We have nearly perfected the process. Over the years Laura and I have partnered, often with a few other friends, for this travel day-eve tradition a total of 8 times and each time I declare, “The next one will be better!” By this I mean, I won’t have so much stuff to fit in, or I’ll be more prepared before you get here next time, or I won’t make you pack a comforter and garbage can again. I am proud to announce that we broke all previous records this past Christmas packing EVERYTHING that had been purchased and piled, AND the whole process was completed in under an hour, AND everything was within the weight limit, AND it all arrived in Dakar with no damaged items or any other issues. The August packing nights are a bit trickier because I have had longer to accumulate stuff. Very important, very necessary, very essential stuff!

Every time I travel back to Dakar I pray that my luggage will pass the weight restrictions, and that everything will arrive, and that it will arrive in good condition. I bring an extra shopping bag with me to the airport in case I have to take something out of my luggage because it is overweight. However, there is always a text or an e-mail sent once I’m through security to report that everything was checked-in, even if the bags were a kilo or two overweight.

The ‘journey’ back to Dakar is definitely more complicated than my typical habit of throwing clothes into a suitcase an hour before I leave for the airport in the past. I’m sure that other travelers could accomplish the same end goals with fewer lists, a reduced amount of shopping trips, a less elaborate packing night tradition, and all on a much shorter timeline, but this is the process that works for me and gets me successfully from point YYZ to point DKR. I especially love Laura’s first question when I get home; “When is packing night?” because it’s a simple tradition (or not-so-simple depending on who you ask) that makes the leaving a little more bearable. 

Packing night August 2012:

**All of the items mentioned in this post have actually been purchase, packed, and transported to Senegal in my luggage, including the grill.

478 Days Later, but Who's Counting?

I’m big on countdowns; at least I used to be. Birthdays, vacations, big purchases, have all been eagerly anticipated with mental marks on the master ‘life schedule’. These days life is so busy that it’s hardly worth it to start crossing off the days because they pass in a blur before you even have a chance to refer to a calendar and do the necessary countdown calculations.

The busyness of this past school year was even more extreme than usual [excuses for prolonged blogging absence to follow]: In addition to my regular teaching load and extra-curricular responsibilities, the school is going through an accreditation process, which resulted in many extra hours of less-than-stimulating meetings and the preparation of uninspired reports. You may be sensing my lack of enthusiasm, however being the mature and professional individual that I am, I also recognize the necessity of the process.

I also picked up two sections of a history course on my schedule to cover for a colleague who was on leave for the year. The course was fun. Who am I kidding, I’m a history nerd, I loved it! The students may not share my enthusiasm, but I think that they each left with an entertaining memory or two. If you grew up in church you may be familiar with the timeless adage, “Jesus is always the answer” which can be interpreted both literally and figuratively. Well, in Miss Black’s Western Civilization class this year, the adage became, “ ‘Enlightenment ideas’ is always the answer. ” I like to think that the kids walked away with a better understanding and deeper interest in European history. Every once in a while I’ll get a Facebook message about a connection they’ve made between the course material and their everyday lives, Bastille Day July 14, for example. It gives me a warm tingly feeling and I’ll be honest, it makes my day.

Needless to say, I was ready for summer vacation fairly soon after the conclusion of the countdown to Spring Break and the break itself. The subsequent countdown to Freedom Friday (the last day of school) was, as always, bittersweet. Impending goodbyes to graduates, departing colleagues, and in my case, two of my roommates who are also close friends, make it challenging to truly celebrate the end of the year. As difficult as the dichotomy between anticipation and dread can be, it slowed me down enough to be sensitive to the memorable moments in which I found myself. It also provided me insight into the tension of endless goodbyes and transitions that my missionary kids/third culture kids experience as commonplace, just another part of their reality.

Once I have navigated the goodbyes, the year-end procedures, and the packing, I am able to decompress watching movies on the eight-hour flight, and breathe a grateful sigh of relief once I have landed in Canada.  Incidentally, my favourite parts of the trip home are buying a coffee and magazine in the New York airport while I wait for my connection to Toronto AND more sentimentally, when the Canadian customs officer says, “Welcome Home Miss Black”.

The nine-week summer countdown seems like a lot when I arrive, but more often than not it’s fully scheduled before I even touch down. Then there are the shorter countdowns within the grand summer countdown to catching up with friends and family, day-trips to my favourite local spots, road trips, and visiting my home away-from-home-away-from-home, Newfoundland. This year there is also the added excitement of a family vacation to Alaska!

Though the countdown exists involuntarily somewhere in the back of my mind, I have given up ‘conscious countdowns’ cold turkey! As much as I like the thrill of anticipation, it seems that there’s enough to enjoy in the present without having to rush the future. Besides, who needs the hassle of all that countdown math?