Retrospective at the Ripe Old Age of 38...
Hello, my name is (still) David Bonnardeaux. I am (still) married to Jillian Frumkin Bonnardeaux. I am (still) trailing my lovely wife as she rockets up the Foreign Service ladder to some day becoming the US Ambassador to... Liechtenstein... perhaps. And I am (not still...) 38 years of age.
And I have a confession to make: it has been 6 years and 5 months since my last installment. And that one was a paltry five-liner to boot. I am ashamed. Aghast. Annoyed. Appalled. Aroused... Ok, ok, I am not the last one (at the moment...); just ran out of adjectives that began with A to describe how bad I am feeling for having allowed so much time to pass since my last Trials and Tribulations installment. Not that I have witnessed a single person/friend clamor at my feet begging me to write a new installment...
So much has happened since then I don't know where to start?
I have a grey hair on my chest?... [no, no. Can't start with THAT - that's worthy of the grand finale...]
I almost scored three hat-tricks in the space of two weeks playing football with the Tiger Team (US Consulate team) in Saigon? [Nah... too 'tooting my own horn'...]
We met Mother Mary and Father Joseph, parents of Baby Jesus here in Zimbabwe... they are black, not to mention alive and well and living in Guruve, Mashonaland North. Oh, and Jesus is also black, 22yrs old and female...but she was in Harare. Shopping... [NOW that is a good teaser yes, but that brings us almost to the present. Will keep that one on tap for now]
I guess I could start with the fact that we have TWO CHILDREN NOW! Yes, a sizable occasion in our lives since the 8th of June, 2007 (when I wrote about Ghana's new cedi currency coming out). Yes, a good start. But if I were to go through the last 6 years and 5 months in chronological order here I might never publish this post... So I will just bounce back and forth, in true rambling fashion. Welcome back, my incessant stream of consciousness....
Even though our first-born was born in Washington DC, we wanted him to have a connection to what should have been his true birthplace: Ghana. And so we searched high and low for a Ghanaian name beginning with L. Why L you ask? Well, it was a nod to Jillian's recently deceased grandfather Leonard. But bizarrely a lot of the names in Ghana begin with K: Kofi, Kwame, Kojo, Kobena, Koku, Kwaku, Kwabena, Kwesi. And all the suggestions we got for L names were primarily of a biblical nature:, Lazarus, Luke, Linus, Levi or were just bizarro e.g. Laurencia. So we asked the village elders (of the town we were working with to build a kindergarten) about traditional names, or even natural elements i.e. trees, rivers, etc. Once we got through the biblical names again, we moved to nature; one amongst them all shone brighter than the rest... for it was the Ewe word for star: LENOVO! Suffice to say we decided against calling our child the equivalent of 'IBM Thinkpad' or 'Macbook'... we then moved onto place names. We opted against the name of the town we had great ties with given it didn't start with L (not to mention that a child by the name of Agbenoxoe Bonnardeaux would probably be the butt of every joke from now into perpetuity) but we did decide upon the place name of a cluster of towns in the foothills on the border with Togo: Liati, that literally means in Ewe 'Boy Who Climbs Trees'. It is also often used as an Ewe proverb meaning 'If you find a good tree in life, people will support you in climbing it.' SOLD!
Fast forward 5 years and I wonder if we shouldn't have called our son 'Boy With iPad Attached to Hands' or perhaps 'Boy Who Throws Stones at Windows'... that's unfair actually, he only did that once... Ah, parenthood.
The past few years I have caught myself chatting to friends about the most mundane and inane things revolving around children: 'Ah yes, grapes and blueberries DO make for nasty diaper changes'. 'Where CAN I find a fish costume for a 2.5yr old?' 'Does your child also forget to unfurl his willy causing him to pee all over himself and the toilet seat? I know! Ha, ha, ha! Oh, such darlings!! ha.' 'Oh, we let them eat all types of nuts. No allergies there thankfully. Oh, as to the choking hazard? Ach, this way they will learn for next time!' 'What IS your child's head circumference? Oh, my that MUST be way up in the 75th percentile!'
It's almost as bad as golf humor... 'oh, I've hit more trees than fairways! Ho, ho ho!' 'Oh did that bunker just move because I swear my chip shot was dead center with the pin.' Ah, its as if when one sets foot on a golf course you have to lose all sense of fashion AND humor (and in my case, any eye-hand coordination I can muster).
Yes, I have taken up golf again. Not out of a burning desire to become the next Phil Mickelson or Seve Ballesteros or Tiger Woods but rather because it's so damn cheap here in Zimbabwe it would be a crime NOT to take advantage of the many golf courses around Harare. 3 months of unlimited golf costs about as much as one round of golf at a course in UK, Spain or US! And I have the added bonus of potentially killing all sorts of interesting and exotic waterfowl and little antelope with my errant tee shots and topped pitching wedges... And where else can you tee off just on the other side of the fence from a fully naked very well-endowed woman washing herself in the local stream early in the morning??! Or be searching for a wild approach shot in the deep rough only to come up face to face with a crocodile! Or be having a beer at the end of the round at the clubhouse and see a very very archaic Russian helicopter flanked by old Huey helicopters fly right overhead at less than 100m altitude ferrying ailing President Robert Mugabe to his State House across the street?!
Did you know there is a ban on helicopters flying in and around Saigon's airspace? Its been in place since the Vietnam War, or as the Vietnamese call it, the American War! Strange thing then to see a brand new 68-storey skyscraper go up during our two years there, equipped with a helipad on the 52nd floor! The Bitexco Tower....designed by... an Ecuadorian architect. Who would have thought?! And designed to resemble a lotus flower... very beautiful but still only 30% full. Probably the only place in Saigon that is not swarming with people.
We loved our two years in Saigon but with over 11 million people in the metropolitan area of Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) you just cannot go anywhere without having your personal space invaded. And the traffic... unbelievable. And the language? Unintelligible... well at least for me. I was up in the Central Highlands working with the ethnic Kho minority group on a payment for ecosystem services project and popped into a traditional food house (for want of a better word, as it definitely could not be categorized as a restaurant!). After some obscure foodstuff (for want of a better word as what was served to us could not really be categorized as food...) and too many customary Heinekens I went to say goodbye to the two gentlemen that sat next to us all through lunch. I was surprised to see their shocked and angry faces after I had said 'goodbye gentlemen' or xin chào các anh. But in fact, according to my colleagues, i had actually said xin chào cāc anh (looks the same right?! Except the tone on the cac was oh too subtly different for me) and therefore said "goodbye penises"!
Its amazing how one day we were in a sleepy, leafy neighborhood in Arlington, Virginia comparing Liati's head circumference with all the other wee ones on the street...(just keeping up with the Joneses) and suddenly the next I was drinking moonshine and eating mystery meats up in the Dateh forested mountains by candlelight singing songs with my new local friends K'breo, K'dung, Thinh and Nam; falling asleep in my hammock on a ridge with the clouds rolling through; waking up early to record gibbon calls. The world is truly a handkerchief... oh, no, that's a spanish saying - el mundo es un pañuelo. Doesn't translate very well into english... never mind.
But I managed to get out of the Central Highlands, and Vietnam, alive. And we chose to move to a more sedate location. A location that doesn't have oppressive heat and humidity all year round. A location where you can hear yourself think, hear the crickets at night. A location that doesn't have over 11 million mopeds/scooters on the streets at any given time. A location that has a semblance of seasons. Zimbabwe. Harare, Zimbabwe to be exact. Quite a difference from the hustle and bustle of Saigon... night and day one might say. Chalk and cheese. But Zimbabwe has so much to offer even in the face of mighty economic, political and developmental challenges. And that is where we met Mother Mary and Father Joseph, parents of 'The Second Jesus' of Guruve...... [to be continued]
And I have a confession to make: it has been 6 years and 5 months since my last installment. And that one was a paltry five-liner to boot. I am ashamed. Aghast. Annoyed. Appalled. Aroused... Ok, ok, I am not the last one (at the moment...); just ran out of adjectives that began with A to describe how bad I am feeling for having allowed so much time to pass since my last Trials and Tribulations installment. Not that I have witnessed a single person/friend clamor at my feet begging me to write a new installment...
So much has happened since then I don't know where to start?
I have a grey hair on my chest?... [no, no. Can't start with THAT - that's worthy of the grand finale...]
I almost scored three hat-tricks in the space of two weeks playing football with the Tiger Team (US Consulate team) in Saigon? [Nah... too 'tooting my own horn'...]
We met Mother Mary and Father Joseph, parents of Baby Jesus here in Zimbabwe... they are black, not to mention alive and well and living in Guruve, Mashonaland North. Oh, and Jesus is also black, 22yrs old and female...but she was in Harare. Shopping... [NOW that is a good teaser yes, but that brings us almost to the present. Will keep that one on tap for now]I guess I could start with the fact that we have TWO CHILDREN NOW! Yes, a sizable occasion in our lives since the 8th of June, 2007 (when I wrote about Ghana's new cedi currency coming out). Yes, a good start. But if I were to go through the last 6 years and 5 months in chronological order here I might never publish this post... So I will just bounce back and forth, in true rambling fashion. Welcome back, my incessant stream of consciousness....
Even though our first-born was born in Washington DC, we wanted him to have a connection to what should have been his true birthplace: Ghana. And so we searched high and low for a Ghanaian name beginning with L. Why L you ask? Well, it was a nod to Jillian's recently deceased grandfather Leonard. But bizarrely a lot of the names in Ghana begin with K: Kofi, Kwame, Kojo, Kobena, Koku, Kwaku, Kwabena, Kwesi. And all the suggestions we got for L names were primarily of a biblical nature:, Lazarus, Luke, Linus, Levi or were just bizarro e.g. Laurencia. So we asked the village elders (of the town we were working with to build a kindergarten) about traditional names, or even natural elements i.e. trees, rivers, etc. Once we got through the biblical names again, we moved to nature; one amongst them all shone brighter than the rest... for it was the Ewe word for star: LENOVO! Suffice to say we decided against calling our child the equivalent of 'IBM Thinkpad' or 'Macbook'... we then moved onto place names. We opted against the name of the town we had great ties with given it didn't start with L (not to mention that a child by the name of Agbenoxoe Bonnardeaux would probably be the butt of every joke from now into perpetuity) but we did decide upon the place name of a cluster of towns in the foothills on the border with Togo: Liati, that literally means in Ewe 'Boy Who Climbs Trees'. It is also often used as an Ewe proverb meaning 'If you find a good tree in life, people will support you in climbing it.' SOLD!
 |
| Liati visiting Liati Wote, Volta Region of Ghana |
Fast forward 5 years and I wonder if we shouldn't have called our son 'Boy With iPad Attached to Hands' or perhaps 'Boy Who Throws Stones at Windows'... that's unfair actually, he only did that once... Ah, parenthood.
The past few years I have caught myself chatting to friends about the most mundane and inane things revolving around children: 'Ah yes, grapes and blueberries DO make for nasty diaper changes'. 'Where CAN I find a fish costume for a 2.5yr old?' 'Does your child also forget to unfurl his willy causing him to pee all over himself and the toilet seat? I know! Ha, ha, ha! Oh, such darlings!! ha.' 'Oh, we let them eat all types of nuts. No allergies there thankfully. Oh, as to the choking hazard? Ach, this way they will learn for next time!' 'What IS your child's head circumference? Oh, my that MUST be way up in the 75th percentile!'
It's almost as bad as golf humor... 'oh, I've hit more trees than fairways! Ho, ho ho!' 'Oh did that bunker just move because I swear my chip shot was dead center with the pin.' Ah, its as if when one sets foot on a golf course you have to lose all sense of fashion AND humor (and in my case, any eye-hand coordination I can muster).
Yes, I have taken up golf again. Not out of a burning desire to become the next Phil Mickelson or Seve Ballesteros or Tiger Woods but rather because it's so damn cheap here in Zimbabwe it would be a crime NOT to take advantage of the many golf courses around Harare. 3 months of unlimited golf costs about as much as one round of golf at a course in UK, Spain or US! And I have the added bonus of potentially killing all sorts of interesting and exotic waterfowl and little antelope with my errant tee shots and topped pitching wedges... And where else can you tee off just on the other side of the fence from a fully naked very well-endowed woman washing herself in the local stream early in the morning??! Or be searching for a wild approach shot in the deep rough only to come up face to face with a crocodile! Or be having a beer at the end of the round at the clubhouse and see a very very archaic Russian helicopter flanked by old Huey helicopters fly right overhead at less than 100m altitude ferrying ailing President Robert Mugabe to his State House across the street?!Did you know there is a ban on helicopters flying in and around Saigon's airspace? Its been in place since the Vietnam War, or as the Vietnamese call it, the American War! Strange thing then to see a brand new 68-storey skyscraper go up during our two years there, equipped with a helipad on the 52nd floor! The Bitexco Tower....designed by... an Ecuadorian architect. Who would have thought?! And designed to resemble a lotus flower... very beautiful but still only 30% full. Probably the only place in Saigon that is not swarming with people.
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| Lunch and dessert.... |
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| Grilling up some wild fish and frogs... |
Its amazing how one day we were in a sleepy, leafy neighborhood in Arlington, Virginia comparing Liati's head circumference with all the other wee ones on the street...(just keeping up with the Joneses) and suddenly the next I was drinking moonshine and eating mystery meats up in the Dateh forested mountains by candlelight singing songs with my new local friends K'breo, K'dung, Thinh and Nam; falling asleep in my hammock on a ridge with the clouds rolling through; waking up early to record gibbon calls. The world is truly a handkerchief... oh, no, that's a spanish saying - el mundo es un pañuelo. Doesn't translate very well into english... never mind.
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