Things are working out pretty good for us. We’re slowly but surely making our way back to Gambia. Everything else was cool over at Mac’s Refuge. We had that amazing breakfast of pancakes, etc, and headed out yesterday without a hitch.

One thing that’s kinda bugging me though. We we’re talking last night about our parents and how their foibles become ours. Both Tim and Joe seemed really, I don’t know how to put it, knowledgeable about those things. Somehow it felt like I wasn’t, but in another way I was. I’m not sure how to explain it, but it worried me some. My family is close in many ways but we’re distant compared to some families I know. Tim made the point that maybe if as a teenager he’d gotten along really well with his parents he wouldn’t have felt it so necessary to understand them so much when he got older. Other than a honestly brief period from the time when I was 13 to 14 or so I think I had a very good and fairly open relationship with my parents. They didn’t know everything I did, but after a specific incident where they busted me, I felt like I wasn’t particularly hiding anything from them. Nothing serious at least; because they were so understanding. Besides the fact that I’m sure they definitely weren’t angels when they were teenagers either. Joe’s parents are divorced, which I’d think by its very nature would expose truths; both flaws and virtues, of any individual. Sop why does it worry me that Tim and Joe might understand their parents better than I do mine. Families are all different and for the most part I’d honestly say I do understand my folks. But there are a few things I just don’t know. And is there any more value in say knowing exactly how my parents felt when they first met, or in knowing intrinsically how much they love me. Why didn’t I care enough to learn both? Should I have? Am I missing some vital part of their lives? My parents raised me and my sister well, both I don’t necessarily understand the reasoning behind the hows and why of their parenting style. Should I know if my mom read every childcare book on the market before my sister was born? Would that make me love them more? Probably not. Would it make me understand them better? Maybe. I don’t think I’m missing anything, but it worries me that I could be. Would our relationship be better? That night while talking I felt like tim and Joe didn’t understand me; like I’d somehow missed the boat by not questioning everything my parents ever did. Not that they were saying I was uncaring or anything, or that it was something I actually needed to do, but it felt like they were pitying me, like I’d missed out on some higher level of maturity with my parents. I know they weren’t really doing that at all, I’m sure I was just projecting my insecurity with the matter and reading subtext drawn from my troubled conscience into their words. But it felt bad all the same. Have I missed something? Should I be embarrassed about this? My parents are good people, pretty normal people, like me. Yes we have quirks, but I don’t think any of us are the kind of people others might label as ‘a character’. We’re easy-going, and maybe that’s why we never had this potentially important bonding time... I guess I need to think about this more. Gotta go for now.

After reading this last entry again it occurs to me that I really don’t feel like I don’t know my parents. But more that what I do know isn’t something I’m used to vocalizing. I feel like I do know my parents, and that they know me, but our understanding of each other doesn’t come from some serious or drawn out discussion, it comes from having lived and loved openly with each other throughout our relationship. So no, I don’t know every detail of my parents lives. I don’t know the whys and hows driving the way they raised me. But I still know them through action, through emotion, through the simple everyday respect we showed each other.

Would I be better off if I knew their innermost desires? Should I know if they feel contented with their lives on a whole? If they feel they’ve achieved their goals? Maybe. But I don’t feel like I’ve missed some vital stage of becoming an adult. I know what’s most important to know about my parents; how we feel about each other. Are we all best friends, no. But we are family, and that’s a pretty good thing.

Back to the real world now, we caught the 4 pm bus into Bamako and made it in 10 hours without incident. I slept most of the way and after arriving at 2:30 am we decided to head out and find a hotel. We’re not staying at the Peace Corps Stagé houses anymore; we want hotels. We caught a cab and started heading over to the Catholic Mission, but didn’t get very far before we were stopped by some cops. They were looking for any excuse to bust us, and I’m sure get some bribe money but we triumphantly produced our tourists VISAs which we’d gone to so much trouble to get and made our way into the night. Its good that those stupid VISAs have finally paid off, it was hassle enough to get them in the first place.

The Catholic Mission was closed so we had to go to another more expensive hotel. Although none of us really wanted to pay for a room starting at 3 in the morning we really didn’t have any choice unless we wanted to stay up drinking or something. And hey, we all did get a chance to get a few decent hours of sleep in. This morning we moved over to the cheaper Catholic Mission hotel, which is very conviently located right downtown. I kind of wish it wasn’t taking so long to get home, but at least we’re moving. Tomorrow afternoon we catch a flight to Dakar, and the next day we travel overland back to Gambia. It’ll be nice to finally have a rest and be able to stop moving.