friendship

my house sits on the north shore of lake kivu, and it is a peaceful place. at night the wind cools things down and makes the surf crash against the rocks. the water is inky black and full of secrets in those middle hours. my door to the patio is always an open invitation to the breeze, and i feel like i'm sleeping on a beach.

our movement around goma is restricted to certain areas during certain hours, and we are driven everywhere. as a result, i spend a lot of time at the house, trying to read or write or take a siesta, which is always interrupted by the cat, who is no longer a kitten. she wants food or love. or both.


splash is turning into a fine specimen of felis domesticus. every evening we sit on the boat dock, her and i, watching the sunset. she laps up cream from her saucer, and i sip on my whiskey. i’m no snob, though, and i drink it straight, out of a coffee mug that has a picture of a rooster and says top o’ the mornin coffee.

it's hard to believe how fast time goes. i think about my first 3 months in congo and take another sip. vacuum packed always fresh.

the sun is falling off the edge of the world. its whiskey-gold rays are slanting and striking the emerald green water. the lake is peaceful. it smells lightly of the fish i never can catch. small ripples disturb the smoky-mirrored surface. in the faintest of breezes, it gently laps at the shore; though still quieter than a cat with her cream.

oblique angles of sunshine, invisible above the water, have turned into rust-colored shafts below; illuminating schools of sambaza fishes swimming in formation. time is slowed. this part of the early evening is delayed; decelerated. it's like the afternoon was pushed off a bridge with a bungy cord around its ankles. this is the bottom stretchy part; still falling, but slowing, stretching, spinning.


splash sits patiently, waiting as i fish. nothing ever seems to bite, and it’s nice to know someone just wants to be with you, with no expectations. she's too smart to be waiting for an early dinner, after sitting next to me for far too many nights of catching nothing. she knows that i will feed her leftovers from supper anyway.

she loves chicken, hamburgers, and french fries. in the morning, she stealthily leaps onto the table to sneak a few bites of my oatmeal or toast if i turn away for too long. but her favorite is tuna fish packed in sunflower oil. i think it's because it gives her coat a brilliant, lustrous, pantene pro-v shine.


meow! "let me on your lap!" she jumps up and kneads at my shirt and shorts with those razor sharp claws, her tiny motor purring away. every now and then a claw digs into flesh. a look of profound satisfaction washes across her tiny face as those sleepy yellow eyes grow heavier and heavier. i wish other women were so easily satisfied. i try to get her to just lay down, but she's not ready. you can never rush a woman when she's getting ready.

our relationship is so simple. it’s honest. i don't know why honesty in relationships is so hard. it's not that the person opposite yourself is or has ever been deliberately lying. it's just the fact that they won't ever really tell you what's on their mind....and i suck at jedi mind tricks.

we dance around each other, and it's just an ongoing stalemate; interrupted by the occasional radio silence-induced ceasefires.

admittedly, my experience with romantic involvements is limited mostly to the needy and insecure, or the once-in-a-lifetime sweethearts who turn out to be complete psychopaths.

oh well. no rush. it is nice to have someone to share things with, but i have more fulfillment from doing something in my life that i think really matters. something long searched for but previously unrealized.....like running after a rainbow when you were young, as it mysteriously recedes from you at the same rate....

now, for the first time in my life, i seem to be gaining.