My Own Backyard

I always like to think that I’m my mother’s son – she and I have similar tastes in just about everything. We like a tidy living space, organized shelves and drawers, a clean bathroom, and an orderly spice rack. We share a disdain for chaos and clutter and many of our conversations always seem to turn to those areas that we notice that need.. well, help. Whether it be a restaurant or a familiars house, we knowingly chatter about how we just don’t understand how people let things go.  It takes so little time to wipe down a counter or to hang up some clothes in the closet. We’re never wicked, but we do have an overflowing cup of incredulity at times.

So, knowing this little bit about my type-A personality, what I am about to say is a bit of a confession.  Thankfully, I live in Juba, a place that very few have heard about let alone visit.  In this anonymity, I have allowed myself a bit of clutter and dirt.  It still gets under my skin a bit and I get that slimy feeling all over my body, but quite honestly I’ve learned to live with it and ignore it.

As a case in point, I took a look outside my current residence, and couldn’t help but notice just how depressingly junky things have gotten.  Now, certainly, I’m not entirely to blame – the razor wire is there for a purpose and my company is temporarily storing multiple generators on our compound (until our permanent office structure is complete), but I can be blamed for leaving my knickers hanging on the razorwire.  All in all, this scene is very little different from the backyards of houses that my mother and I might titter on about.

Just do me the favor, dear reader, and don’t tell her I’m OK with this.  I still have a reputation to maintain, at least to her eyes!