I’ve never written on a napkin before. So, because I am sitting in Starbucks and wanting to save the battery on my laptop I will sketch out this entry on the brown napkins that are “Made from 100% recycled fibers with at least 40% post-consumer material in a bleach free process” – Whatever all that means.
I was taught in high school that introductions should catch attention, embody the main subject of what is to follow, yet withhold most of the story. Otherwise the reader could just be content with your opening ideas and not wait for everything else you have to say. So, keeping this in mind, for today’s reflection’s I’ll just start out nice and softly and then ease into what has been hanging heavily on my consciousness for the past two weeks now; all in the aforementioned style I’ve so graciously learned from my omniscient AP English teachers. Are you ready?
I was exiled from Africa, given the boot from the program, and I might not ever be able to return to that place I have grown to love over the past two months.
The details are too innumerable, the experience was once in a lifetime, and the whirlwind that swept me up for a crazy ride back over the Atlantic Ocean devastated me. Unfortunately, I do not have enough napkins to provide you with everything you are going to want to know, so please do not act like an only-child-spoiled-brat-who-won’t-be-getting-her-way. And yes I did consciously decide to make the “brat” a “her” because my experiences have convinced me that they are the worse of the two in the greater intensity of brat-like behavior. I digress. Ten of the fourteen students in the inaugural IWU Zambia Study Abroad Program went to a particular establishment, namely the Diva Nite Club, one Friday night, danced, caroused, mingled, left, were confronted by administrating officials representing both World Hope International and IWU, waited for over a week and a half to learn what would happen as a result of the fateful evening’s events, heard arrangements had been made for an early exodus back to the States, made the puddle-jump, and now are working out all the details of what is still to come now that they are back in the States. On top of all this, two of the ten who were ordered home contracted Malaria, holding them back several more days and postponing their glorious return to the homeland until they were well enough to fly the thirty-three hours from Livingstone to Johannesburg, to Dakar, to D.C., and arriving in Indy. What a wonderful life!
Just know that this IS based on the real event, the life and times of Yours Truly, and I now have another great story to include in my biography once I’m famous. E-mail me and I’ll send you a personal, authentic Starbucks napkin, including my authentic signature and a one line personal message for only a small fee. PayPal may be accepted. For any questions, contact my consultant Mr. Paul Barlow of Global Wealth Management, Naples, Florida.
Have fun filling in the details on your own, and please feel free to do so, even wildly creatively if you would like. It is no longer my story to tell. Own it yourself. Make it yours. What happened? If you would like to, post a comment to this blog, with your own details. How would you tell the story? What would YOU say happened to make this story grow? Would you claim that Zimbabwe’s hackjob of a president invaded the Southern Province of Zambia and we were forced to leave regardless of the incident that Friday night? Or, did other more unimaginably scandalous events take place that then merited the exile? Is it all a misunderstanding? Though we students might have made a mistake in judgment (maybe), were there other factors on the part of the irrational administration that complicated the matter? Fill me in! I want to know what YOUR version is.*
How did I do Mr. Lakes? Did I get your attention? Did I “leave some to the imagination”?
*The employment of italics indicates parts of this blog that were not in the original manuscript on coffee shop recycled napkins. Rather, they were added during the final editing process as a curious after thought by Y. Truly.