An Introduction to Mortality

The African dust stirred up by my hop across the ocean is beginning to settle. What was once so unfamiliar is swiftly becoming the familiar. Yesterday I noticed that my office was finally air conditioned to a habitable temperature. Walking over to the thermostat, I was surprised to find that the office was still being cooled to 28°C as it always was…and then I realized that it was me, I was finally acclimatizing to the heat. I feel only vaguely aware of a metamorphosis I'm going through. It’s becoming more difficult to pinpoint the things which once seemed so foreign, now they are camouflaged in the normal activities of life. Only the major differences continue to be noticeable and the sore thumb is security - the continuous attention and caution demanded from me when I travel around the city. A once-peaceful Dar is currently being plagued with a wave of drive-by muggings. Masaki, where my office is located, is being targeted. I remember reading an online article, similar to the one above, a few weeks before leaving Canada.  It seemed so distant then.  On my first day of work last month, a lady was robbed right in front of my office.  Even some of my new expat friends have been the victims of violent robberies. It’s a strange feeling, that these stories are now so close. It’s strange that the danger is real. Strange to be afraid on the streets. Are those the innocent looks of curiosity…or the glares of a predator? Strange thoughts. I don’t like them. My fears often involve the unknown…so I try to shed some light on this monster.  I deconstruct and analyze. The first peculiar thing I realize is that other pertinent dangers rarely enter my thoughts. A serious traffic accident seems a likely candidate…or what about contracting Malaria…or some other disease. So why do only the muggings cloud my mental space? Somehow an intentional human attacker seems much more hideous to me than an accident or a parasite. Perhaps because of the value I place in being able to trust people? Perhaps I’m experiencing a tragic reaction to the theft of that comfort. I have, after all, been grieving the loss of the cozy feeling of safety. But grieving is different from fearing. Why the fear? Ironically, what has helped ease my anxiety is to recognize that muggings, like the other dangers, are largely outside of my control (of course there are some preventative measures that can and should be taken). Some people might think that this realization would make things worse. But there are countless events in life outside of my control. Apparently, I am a mere mortal. The only way forward in these circumstances is to accept that "if it’s gonna happen…then it’s gonna happen." It doesn't sound very insightful, but it illuminates the fact that worrying doesn't actually affect the outcome. And so I remind myself, "if it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen...worrying is counter productive." And I repeat the phrase until I accept my place in the world.  Until I accept that I actually don't have control. And it's refreshing to be relieved of the responsibility of worrying.