It has been about three weeks since I got back to the United States and I wanted to write a final entry to tie everything up in a neat bow. If only it were that simple. First there were three weeks of pure joy as my husband and I traveled around the country. We did a complete circuit of Gabon, starting in the NW corner at the capitol, riding the train all the way east to near the border with Congo and then working our way back west and south. We saw national parks, elephants, train life, distinct ecosystems, all in one relatively wealthy African country. The story that sticks out in my mind of traveling with Owen happened near the end of our journey. I think it vividly illustrates what kind of country Gabon is, as well as the haphazard way in which we tend to travel.
We were in Port Gentil, an oil man's center of commerce on the Atlantic coast, about in the middle of the Gabonese coastline. Did I mention that we took a decomissioned Russian freighter ship stuffed with goats for a Muslim festival overnight to get there? Because we did. Our goal for one day was to walk to a local beach area, lie in the sand, and maybe eat some fresh-caught fish. According to our faulty guidebook map, it was only 4km to the beach so being the intrepid, and somewhat homeless, travelers that we are, we decided to walk. After about an hour and a half, the beach did not seem any closer and there was only one main road in the countryside so it was not as though we could be lost. Finally I approached two middle age men and asked for directions. They laughed uproariously when I told them we were trying to walk to the beach, as it was actually 18km from the center of town, not 4km. After talking a bit, they offered to have us jump in the back of their pick-up truck because they were on their way to the beach town as well. We drove all the way with them, stopping for a roadside beer and talking about all aspects of Gabonese culture and landscape. It turned out that they were friends with the village chief of the beach town, so we had to meet with him, give him some wine (you always have to give the chief some alcohol), and take pictures. Then they directed us to a restaurant with just caught grilled fish. SO good. Then we had to drink some local spirits with them and the chief, go for a walk on the beach where the village was bringing in the tuna catch for the day, and try to find vin de palme.
When we got back to Port Gentil, one of the men insisted on drinking more beers with us and eating brochettes of grilled meat for several more hours. He was extremely affronted when we tried to pay for the meal and instead urged us to buy more beers on his tab. It was a totally beautiful, funny, local, delicious, warm day and illustrative of how kind and protective and proud the Gabonese people tend to be.
Unfortunately, we had to leave our equitorial paradise for full-on Chicago winter. It has been a difficult transition back in many ways. I liked my work a great deal at Hopital Albert Schweitzer and felt useful and appreciated. Now, I am back to the lowest position on the totem pole of medical student where I get to do fairly little. And it is so cold! I am trying to be positive about the last six months of medical school and make the most of my time here in Chicago, but it is hard. Lambarene and Gabon in general, have taken a piece of my heart and I am already plotting my return for the earliest possible moment.
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