156 Weeks (or 3 years)

One of our first pics in 2013, after moving to the DRCApparently, 156 is the magic number. That is the number of weeks that have passed since we have begun to call this place home.  (For the less dramatic, you could call it three years but it just doesn’t sound as long.)  This occurred to me while driving through town this week.  We were weaving our way through a sea of cars when two cops on a motorcycle pulled up next to us.  Trying their luck, they pulled on the door handle only to find it locked.  I smiled as they went on their way, looking for an easier target.It was at that moment that I realized how comfortable I was despite the circumstances.  It occurred to me that the traffic, and the equally treacherous traffic police, was not the only thing that I have become accustomed to navigating.  Just a few minutes before, I had been negotiating a price on some construction work in French.  Moments later I fought off a crowd of young men who demanded, although playfully, payment for guarding my parked car.  They laughed as I spoke my broken Swahili to them and they disbursed.  Going on, I get called boss, chief, “patron,” bwana, and many other forms of the word.  Today, I simply respond to people instead of telling them that I’m no boss as I used to.  It’s easier that way.I suppose that is the whole entire reason that we want to adapt in…
Source: 156 Weeks (or 3 years) from Fothergill – Africa

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