On New Beginnings

So as I engage my nowadays dwindling capacity to write, I am reminded of the meaning of human existence—and before you think I am about to bore you with some classic mid-life crisis litanies, hear me out for a second. I promise it will be worth it.

So my sojourn—I like to call it that—my MA in German Studies at the University of Arizona, has come to an end. I am, on so many levels, grateful for the opportunities accorded to me by simply being in this program. The streets I strode and the lecture halls I sat in for hours deliberating on whether I was enough will dearly be missed.

On a weekly basis, I would wake up around 6–7 a.m., catch up with friends—especially those in Kenya—because of the time difference, and prepare some Kenyan tea (it has to be Kenyan), a testimony of my desperate attempts to grasp onto my roots, which lately have been fading into a silent echo. (pauses to let that sink in)

Yes, I have been in the USA for two years now and have never gone back home—nay, never had the chance to go home. So I attempt, with the slightest motivation possible, to hold on to the little reminders of a peaceful, silent, no-need-to-perform sense of home. After packing my Tea into a to-go mug (With the UA logo in it and thanks to Tony for this gift) I also pack my lunch and head off to school in my bike.

I love changing my workstations from time to time. For this last semester, I was primarily rooted at the Weaver Science Library for two reasons: I get a picturesque view of the Tucsonian mountains and, sometimes, whenever my eyes drift, I catch a glimpse of an airplane and immediately check the flight info on FlightRadar. Who is this arriving from Houston on this early morning? Such inquiries would then lead me off to spin a little before some emails from my department start streaming in: We congratulate… for passing their comps… REMEMBER TO SIGN UP for this and that… NEW PUBLICATION ALERT!! A litany of emails for sure—a testament to grad school.

But then I remember I have to print some course material for my German 101 course at 11 a.m. So again, at 10:30, I rush to the department, print and cut out the “creative” exercises, and hope that this approach today will be exhilarating for the students. After class, I go back to the department, say hi, and proceed to the microwave section to heat my lunch. Then I dash out to, again, have a view of the Tucsonian mountains. Oh, and this time, watch as the frats happily enjoy the sun. As I sip on my coffee, I think, They must have a good life.

Oh, it is almost time for my own course, and this time, we are dealing with the pretty heavy topic of Nietzsche and how human beings perceive morality. I hardly know what he is talking about as I finish up reading the assigned material, but I tell myself, I have two or three points I understood—and that makes all the difference, no?

I meet with my fellow graduate students—each burning with their own ambitions and desires, battling their own struggles in ways best known to them—but as we assemble in the Seminarraum, each appears to be thrilled to talk about “what caught their attention.” It is now 6:00 p.m. and Tucson is glowing in the twilight sun. After some small chit-chats with fellow colleagues, each one departs to a destination suited to them. I prefer going to the Weaver Library again—but this time, solely to prepare for my lesson tomorrow and catch a glimpse of the sunset over the southern part of Tucson. This time, I am directly facing the airport, and my escapades lead me to find out who is arriving from God knows where.

Once my PowerPoint slides are complete, I ride my bike back home to prepare dinner, watch an episode or two—although nowadays I lack the patience to watch and wait. Then I read a few articles or assigned materials, then go to bed and do the same for five days a week, fall and spring semesters, for two years.

But now, all that has changed. It has been a month since I graduated, and while I am having lots of free time, I am also bracing for the next big assignment (I prefer to call it that)—and this will be revealed in due course. I am excited about it, but still nervous about the possibilities, if any, of it “working out.” I realize that I have grown into an overly pessimistic person. Nothing thrills me so much nowadays. With all that is going on, I just don’t find so much joy—but it is the human instinct to want to hope for better. And as I prepare myself for this next step, I am hoping or perhaps praying for grace, love, intentionality—and a return. A return to some of the basic forms of pleasure. And as a famous YouTuber (I think he is famous) once said, I “hope to gently stumble into life’s surprises.”