Half Days (and Somalia)

Z has a half day today, an almost vacation.  Half learning, half play.  Half discipline, half indulgence.  She will make it through several hours of kindergarten, before returning to her patch of dirt in the yard, to sift for worms and un-plant scattered seeds.  

The afternoon stretches before us, half foggy half warm.  I will scatter sugar over caffeine and stir, as my mind creates a list of things to do:

Wonder  if anyone is opening schools in Somalia.

Sit, overwhelmed by the fact that only 25% of Somali women are literate.

Discover no new foreign efforts at education since 2002.

Roll the word Mogadishu around in my mouth for a few minutes.

Consider learning Somali or Arabic.

Settle on French. Starting tomorrow.

Read article on International Coast Guard idea to handle piracy issues.

Wonder how that can possibly solve the problem in the long term. Read more. Feel disheartened, disenfranchised, hopeless as history repeats herself and we are told to “steer clear.”

Order a copy of Dead Aid: Why Aid Is Not Working and How There Is a Better Way for Africa.

Feel frustrated as I am told that my learning Somali or sending devalued dollars can do nothing.  

Pray as we make cheesy quesadillas and guacamole in anticipation of the folding point of our whole day.