Thursday, February 09, 2006

Thursday Night Rant

I think something in the universe must have aligned yesterday and today that has made all of my frustrations and resentments for Chimoio come to surface. I just had a major breakdown with Rico and cried till snot ran down my face. The whole crisis ended up with me blubbering, "I can't stand it here anymore!" and crying on the bed for an hour.

I am seeing red. I hate this place and I am sick of the people I live with. Chimoio is depressing. The people here are depressing and boring and petty. In 9 months I have honestly not met a single local person I'd want to consider being friends with. The person here I have the best relationship with is our night guard Zeca, who barely speaks Portuguese and answers everything with an animated but blindly subservient, "Sim patrão, sim patrão, obrigado, obrigado." Yes, Boss. Thank you. You ask Zeca to unload a truck-full of bricks and he says thank you. Zeca is charismatic and charming, but I hate the relationship we all have with him. The sad part is that try as we might to change things, it's of no use. Zeca will always do whatever we tell him to and thank us in the process. We will always be the latest incarnation of the colonial assholes that ran this place for 500 years before they were chased out in 1975.

My housemates are driving me insane. I want them to shut up and go away. I can't stand to look at them or hear them speak. I'm at this level right now. It's all quite immature.

Rico, as always, is unbelievably patient. I'm aware of what a bitch I must be to be around right now, and it makes me feel even worse. I feel like I have no control over this rage and frustration I feel. I try and think about being non-judgemental, breathing, letting go of things that don't matter, trying to determine if the problem is my environment or if it's me.

Some days I have no doubt it's the environment. Nobody can stand Chimoio. We all deal with this hellhole in our own special ways. One of my housemates drinks and takes pills to zone out of life. Another is a workaholic and won't shut her mouth. She talks and talks and talks and carries both sides of the conversation out loud by herself. Another housemate gets angry and does things like slam doors, or he overeats to smother his anger. I think Rico deals by being unnecessarily patient, borderline ignoring the situation until he explodes. I become compulsively organized with my things. My closet is full of perfectly folded clothes, organized by color and style. My creams are all organized by tube size. My books are in alphabetical order. My computer files and directories make perfect organized sense. These are the things I can control in my life at the moment. The problem is that I get stressed and try and make my housemates be neat and clean as well. Obviously being bossy and compuslive only makes the discomfort I feel that much worse.

Other days...well, other days I have no doubt the problem is me. Today is one of them.

I want to go to Maputo this Sunday and never come back to Chimoio.

3 comments:

sara said...

First, i'm sorry you're so frustrated! But I completely understand why. Hopefully you'll feel much better when you get into a living environment that's more conducive to feeling content and fulfilled.
I also think it's really interesting, how people cope with situations that are extreme or stressful or negative, in some way. I always had to be completely organized, too -- I would compulsively throw things away that seemed like "clutter." Or have to check three times to make sure my door was locked. And my "tough" environment was nowhere near what you're dealing with!
Good luck & hang in there!

Anonymous said...

goodness. i leave for a bit and i come back to this?!!! good luck ali, it sounds shitty. maybe you can do some art, you know paint, or make beads! not to say that your blog isn't a work of art as well.

Anonymous said...

Olá, Ali.... post com boas vibrações. Vc viu "The constant gardener" do Fernando Meireles? Se sim, o que achou? Se não, vc precisa assistir.
Mais boas vibrações,
Isabela