December, 2002
As dictated by
habit (enough time has not elapsed to call it “tradition”), I reach not for the
pen, but for the keyboard, and in so doing, bring the year to a close with a
synopsis of those events that moved our lives in 2002.
The year was
started with a brief visit to London in January, where, without the rest of the
family, I shrugged my everyday
responsibilities and recharged my batteries by visiting favoured places and old
friends.
To end Cord’s
sojourn at NATO Defense College, the whole family met in Italy in February
and visited Rome, Naples and Capri.
The weather was spring-like, and we had a mostly relaxing, mentally and
physically edifying vacation. We attended Cord's graduation ceremony, took long
strolls and hikes. On Capri Island, an enchantingly picturesque and citrus tree
covered rock outcropping an hour's sail south of Naples, we visited Capri and
Anacapri.
In the latter village, reached by foot up the Phoenician Steps or
by a narrow, winding cliff-hugging road (no, we did not climb the 500+ steps,
but opted for the bus), we visited the former home of the Swedish physician Axel
Munthe, Villa San Michele, which inspired a book by him of the same name. To
paraphrase Munthe: ...the body requires little room, the mind plentiful... and
both are gratified at San Michele. An air of sublime serenity and peace hung
over the place and one could not suppress the feeling of having come
home.
Back in Capri, we took the "wrong" direction along a cliff-side path,
aided by a map that later revealed itself as hopelessly not to scale. What
started innocuously enough with a descent, passing exquisite villas and a
magnificent vantage point from which splendid rock formations were visible just
off shore, soon took on a more sinister character. The path abruptly ascended
and we were forced to scale over 300 steps and at least the same number of
metres, often with nothing more than a calf-high embankment separating us from a
plunge to the rocky depths. Fellow ramblers on the path, coming towards us the
opposite way, looked at us admiringly (incredulously?) and annoyingly and
unnecessarily informed us that we really ought to be going DOWN and not UP the
path. There might have been no cause for alarm had Kyra not been somewhat
capricious when it came to walking and had we not also been desperately watching
the clock and hoping against hope to return to port before the last sailing to
the mainland. Mercifully, we did catch the funicular down to the port in
time.
In March, we finally achieved a long-contemplated goal and visited the
Baltic Island of Usedom. Three of us fell ill and so it was not much of a
vacation, though the former imperial “bath” towns, some still in the process of
painstaking restoration, are architecturally superb. We did however manage a
couple of leisurely bike rides along the 40 km long sea-front promenade before
the 'flu did the rest.
In April, after
months of planning and preparation, I carried out my first workshop for
expatriating foreign service children and youth for the German Foreign Office
entitled SMOOTH Moves (S-Self-confidence M-Motivation O- Organisation O-
Orientation T- Tolerance H- Home ). I drew a lot of inspiration from Canadian
and US military and civilian programs, as well as my own experience. The Foreign
Office has confirmed 2 more workshops in 2003, for expatriating and repatriating
youth, respectively, and I hope the response will be equally positive.
In May, I visited
Moscow for a pre-move “reconnoitre”. It was rather daunting to discover that the
Embassy compound, with only other Embassy staff for neighbours was indeed what I
had feared it would be: provincial Germany in microcosm - yikes!! Members of
staff confirmed that a number of people who might never have left Germany
otherwise had come to Moscow for that very reason - it possible to live on the
compound with the absolute minimum of contact with the host country – bussing to
the German school, on-site restaurant and catering, well appointed sports
facilities and 365 day/year German bread delivery. I was saddened to observe
that some spouses hold immutable prejudices against Russians, do not speak
the language ( even after up to 4 years!!!!), are therefore very dependent on
others, going out to shop only in convoys, etc. I didn’t miss some looks of
mortification called forth by my travelling on public transport or the
suggestion that I might work - not to mention that of sending my children to a
Russian school!!! On the other hand, living off the compound with a non-Embassy
friend, I had overwhelmingly positive experiences and felt very much at home in
Moscow. On returning to Berlin, I had already changed my mindset to the extent
that I didn't even feel particularly as if I had come "home". Strange,
eh?
The undisputed highlight of the year was our trip to Ghana in the summer
for my grandmother’s 92nd birthday celebration and a family reunion.
Grandmother has 11 children, 42 grandchildren and about 100 great grandchildren
on 3 continents, and so as you can imagine, it was a moving and momentous
event. Everyone who was physically
able attended the 4-day long celebration, which involved copious amounts of food and
festivities, music and merriment and, in the final analysis, virtually the whole
township of Abetifi, where she lives.
Abetifi, the “highest habitable point” in Ghana, as the sign reads
(perhaps highest inhabited point would be more appropriate), is a quiet, lush
green municipality which rests atop the Kwahu mountain-range in central southern
Ghana. Swiss missionaries settled there over 125 years ago, and the Presbyterian
Church, built of stone hewn from local manganese-rich quarries and standing
symbolically at the highest point in town (and consequently in Ghana), bears
witness to that bygone era.
Of course, the
celebrations also entailed an enormous amount of organisational talent. The
whole clan was garbed in the same festive white fabric with a black geometric
pattern – it was left to each individual’s fantasy to determine which style to
wear. Cousins, aunts and uncles last seen anywhere from 2 to over 25 years ago
were warmly embraced and a lot of catching up was done. My parents housed an
additional 16 people (only their children, grandchildren, in-laws and
hangers-on) for over 2 weeks, but
with a military-style mealtime regime and a motley mixture of English, French
and German, we all got along fantastically.
We spent the time
before and after the celebration traveling the coastal areas, visiting several ancient fortresses,
built centuries ago by European (Portuguese (anno 1492), Danish, Dutch, German
and British) colonists, colourful markets and art and craft galleries and
evaluating various beach resorts. We visited a maternal aunt, who having taken a
sabbatical year from her teaching job in Minnesota to complete her Ph.D., was
fulfilling her traditional duty as queen-mother of Swedru quite regally. We also
visited a village on stilts, aptly named Nzulezu (on the water). Nestled in 3
metres of cola-brown water (due to volcanic mineral salts) the village of 500
souls is accessible only by a 30 to 60 minute-long canoe ride (depending on the
season (dry or rainy) and the depth of the lagoon) through protected mangrove
and crocodile inhabited wetlands. Everything there is done on the water, whether
it be daily ablutions or laundry, and it was fascinating to see children, as
young as 5 or 6, setting out serenely and confidently for untold adventures in
hand-crafted dug-outs. The spartan but spotless 2-room guest house boasted
overnight stays by visitors from as far afield as Australia and South Africa.
One episode,
among many, stands out from our 4 week sojourn. It was the arrival on my
parents’ doorstep of our former gardener,
who claimed he was alerted to our presence in Ghana by a friend, who had
perchance espied Cord. Nothing so special about that? And where and when did
this chum catch a glimpse of Cord? Through the windows of the vehicle in which
we (10 or 12 of us) were travelling, as it made its way through Nsawam, a large
transit town about 45 minutes north of Accra. Still not impressed? How about
this: the last time this fellow laid eyes on Cord was about 13 years ago, and
anyone who knows Cord also knows that he has changed a lot in those 13 years. At
the time Cord was spotted as we drove through Nsawam, we were listening to a
hilarious radio program – the moderator reeled off various aphorisms and adages
to accompany his pronouncements, among which was “the probability of your being
watched is directly proportional to the stupidity of your actions” - just
another reminder of how circumspect one must be with one’s actions in
Ghana……
Personal effects
boxed and banished to temporary storage, I arrived in Moscow with the children
on August 19th to a light drizzle and a tremendously warm and friendly
reception. Though it is often the families that follow the assignee, I thought a little added adjustment time
to the new situation would do the children good and so we three did the
groundbreaking. Our first days were overshadowed by a thick cloud of smoke, the
smell of which I mistook for
illegal garbage disposal until I had listened to the news. Essence de
campement was all the rage –everyone’s “hot”, albeit involuntary, new
fragrance – the stench of the smouldering peat bogs in the region surrounding
Moscow was that intense and overwhelming. It was like inhaling campfire smoke
from close quarters 24 hours a day.
Cord arrived to
take up his position as head of the Press Section at the Embassy on September
19th. Prior to arrival, he had for 5 months been seconded to a Berlin
think tank, producing as a result a dilatory J 18-page paper on Germany’s future defense
and security strategy, that received positive reviews from his peers. After a
period of readjustment to his present work schedule (the last 4 years were
apparently something of a sinecure), Cord is rather pleased with his new duties,
even if he was confronted with the tragic hostage crisis almost immediately (we
were nowhere near the theatre when it was commandeered) and spent many hours in
the area during and afterwards. It is so pathetic that so many of those inside
had to perish because of the mysterious gas used. Pitifully bad planning or bad
luck?
We were housed for 7 weeks in temporary accommodation until the
beginning of October, but have now
settled in our final apartment, which has more the feel of a house. It seems as
if I have been in Moscow for AGES - and that, in a positive sense. We have a
housekeeper who is wonderful with Kyra and quite versatile otherwise (gives
massages, Kyra dance and language lessons, sews). Kyra is like a fish in water
and has already started speaking
Russian. Jared was initially
bedazzled by all of the CDs and DVDs that one can get on the cheap here and
immediately started a collection. He is still grappling with self-discipline
(the challenges of puberty!), but has made a lot of progress attending an
excellent Russian school. Tuition
is in Russian, but the transition has been made easier for him by providing him
with English textbooks and allowing him to write some of his papers in English.
He was recently selected by a jury to play at a concert to mark the school’s
10th anniversary at Moscow’s Bolshoi Theatre on December
21st ! He will play a
Mozart piano sonatina. Credit for that primarily goes to the outstanding tuition
he received from a Russian instructress in Berlin. He intends to send her the
ticket stubs. We are, of course, immensely proud.
I started working
at a weekly English-language newspaper here – The Moscow Tribune – in
early October. Trust me, karma chameleon. As a copy editor, I proofread wire
service reports, stylistically edit our reporter's work and then write headlines
and visually edit the final pages on screen before they are photographed for
printing. It is fascinating learning first hand how a
newspaper "goes to
bed". In October, I was interviewed for a Russian "society" paper which has just
appeared on the newsstands. It was a fascinating and enlightening discourse, and
I enjoyed it thoroughly. The story certainly shows me in a very flattering
light!
Otherwise, I give
English lessons and take some courses (Russian language and art history, and
Japanese flower crafting), so I cannot be accused of succumbing to
boredom!
We will celebrate
Christmas and end the year in Moscow. The rest of the family will go through the
whole thing twice, as Russians celebrate Christmas on Jan. 7th . I
will be in London- same procedure as every year. We are already looking forward
to new and exciting adventures in the coming year.
Warmest regards
of the season and good cheer!
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