Every once in a while..no that's a lie, every week I swear that I will give up. I am not very patient with people and often struggle to work with large teams i. e. more than 3. I like having clear lines of communication. I assume that if I communicate something to someone, they should respond appropriately. Furthermore, if we are in a team, working on something that we have been planning for multiple weeks, if I send a message to the team, I think it's not unusual to expect a response. Speak! Whether you can or cannot make it to the event, whether you understood or did not understand my communication, whether you agree, or not, with my suggestion, speak! And then there's this nonsense where people expect me to call them about every single detail.
Naively, when I started out on these teams, I called everyone all the time to inform them about everything. I though that it was not fair to expect them to simply show up in response to a text or email message. I thought, "what if they don't have credit or internet and cannot respond? What do I assume then?" So, I sent a text saying that I would call and, then I followed the text with a call. After several attempts of scheduling, planning and plotting, I stopped calling. Now I just send blind mass messages and sometimes almost end them with "respond at will...if you dare!" I have learnt to expect the worst and always plan for that. I have learnt that low expectations are too high. The best thing to do is to have no expectations at all. That way, if no one shows up, if no one picks my calls, if no one responds to my messages, my heart won't hurt that little bit that it used to.
You see, I take rejection very personally. Even though I know that the teams I work in are not targeting me, it still feels that way. I am very suspicious of the fact that when I send a text to the whatsapp group, I literally hear crickets chirping [whatsapp needs a cricket emoticon]. However, when anyone else says something, there's a buzz of activity, like people were holding their breath, waiting for the wave of Clara to pass. I take it very personally because I like to talk about things that matter. I hate those generic forwarded messages that people try to fill my inbox with. But people seem to love this useless fluff and look the other way when I ask for accountability about the money that we had agreed we would spend on a particular project. So, every week, I threaten Walker and tell him that I will leave these people. I shout about how I do not need them. I declare my independence from their opinions [or, more accurately, the lack thereof]. But then I find myself silently sniffing away stubborn tears. My heart insists on feeling pain. My head insists on imagining scenarios of people whispering about how strange and out of place I am.
I am not the fun one. I do not enjoy meeting for drink ups on Friday night. Alcohol tires me, which is why I try to drink it only when I am at home and know that my bed is a few feet away. Small talk infuriates me. It's like a small stone grinding away at the centre of my brain. Celebrities [local or international] and their, usually, fabricated lives bore me. I see no value [zero, nil] in discussing their drama. When hosting a party, I tend to be the one picking stuff up, making sure cups and plates are filled, checking on the loos and fixing the glitches. I am not the vibrant flower or the star of the show. Perhaps people think I am boring and, thus, my conversation, text or otherwise, isn't worth their time.
Thankfully, God knew that I had made my sworn declarations again last night. Today, we went to the AGM of FOCUS, a ministry that I used to work for. They are like my extended family. I would go as far as saying that I credit the development of my faith in God to my interactions with them. They taught me that it's about what I believe, not how I feel. [When I had to cut them off the wedding guest list in favour of "big people", I died a little, but that's a whole other matter. They were very forgiving and have adopted Walker as one of their own.] We sat together for the entire day deliberating over how to make the best of the resources we have and serve God as best as we can.
Every time we meet I am humbled by the humility of these gentle souls. Some of them are part of that core group that were responsible for the growth of the church in Uganda in the 70s and 80s. Fountains of wisdom, literally, that's what they are. I have spent hours listening to their adventures and drawing from their experiences. Sadly, we had a huge split in our idea of modus operandi a few years ago, that bruised many of these gentle souls. I had given up then, as I always do. I was so disappointed that I pledged to stay away. I don't remember how I got back [I suspect it had something to do with Audrey's persistent calls], but I am glad I did. Today was a reconciliation of some sort. My family decided to set aside their personal agenda and pursue a single goal, as one unit.
I'm sure these men and women have seen and been disappointed by the worst of them. Anyone who lived through the Ugandan 70s and 80s and still has hope in the salvation of humanity should be celebrated. I realise now that I can't give up.
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