#Im already exhausted going into the office three days a week like truly

[keepingthepeaceinouterspace]

.

[please-buckme]

The View From The Fire Escape. (3/3)

Bucky Barnes x gn!reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, fluff

A/n: WOW, keeping this gn!reader was so hard, especially when he talks to his therapist! :/ I hope you guys enjoyed it and I’d love your feed back on it! I also wrote this with a headache, so if it sucks im so sorry. Love you guys <3 thank you for the support.

Part 1 // Part 2

The days dragged on, your body aching from head to toe. Mostly from your job, you’d been working doubles to avoid any sort of interaction with Bucky. Only your lower back was sore from the ‘incident’, physically. Mentally you were hurt and confused.

Hurt because you didn’t understand. Why would he do such a thing? If there was something wrong, why didn’t he tell you before it got too far? And if he didn’t want you in that way, why lead you on like a fool? Some many questions ran through your mind that you wanted answers to. The problem was, you were sort of scared of Bucky now.

And you were confused because he never really made an effort to apologize. He said it on his way out of your apartment, but since then.. nothing. No call or a text, even though a text would’ve set you off; how cowardly. You find yourself daydreaming of him coming to your door, getting on his knees and begging for forgiveness. He hadn’t though. He smiles at you through his window kind of like he’s asking you to come to the fire escape, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

You liked Bucky, you really did. After it happened, though, you realized you knew nothing about him. Sure, you know little things like his favorite beer and how self conscious he is sometimes, or how he changes the subject when you two start reminiscing on old times. The only thing you knew about his past is, he was a momma's boy, outgoing and he loved his best friend; he talked about him all the time.

That was it though. You felt like an open book to him and got nothing in return. You still didn’t know what happened to his arm; he wasn’t just born with a freaking metal arm. And you still had no idea why he lashed out at you.

The more you thought about it, though, the less you wanted to speak or even seen him again. You just wanted to become strangers to each other again, as if you aren’t already.

//

“Tell me what happened.” Bucky’s therapist was calm, even with all the tension coming from Bucky.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Then why are you here?” She raised an eyebrow in question.

“Because I have to be.” He answered bluntly.

“Is it the nightmares?” She asked with a sigh, getting tired of the game they play every time he has a session; it’s like pulling teeth trying to get him to talk.

“Not really. I mean, they’re part of it but no.”

His therapist leans in slowly, worry spreading across her face, “Tell me what’s going on, Bucky.”

Bucky groans, “I think- I think I’m falling for someone.” He readjusts, now feeling exposed and a little vulnerable.

“That’s good, isn't it?”

“It was.. until I fucked it all up.” He runs both hands through his hair. “That’s all I’m good at, fucking up every good thing that comes my way.”

“Breathe and tell me what happened.” She clicks her pen and settles into her chair as she waits for Bucky to speak.

“The notebook? Come on, I’m cooperating.”

“I’m just going to write down their name and anything that may come off alarming. It’s your first relationship since the 1940’s and since being the Winter Soldier. I’m hoping what you’re going to tell me isn’t as bad as I think it is.” She sighs again, flipping open the notebook now. “Did you hurt them?”

“No.. well-“

“Well?” She asks. Bucky hears her breath hitch and he hates it. She knows he’s a killer. She knows he can kill someone with his bare hands and not even flinch, because he has. He isn’t that guy anymore, though and he wants to prove it. Has to prove it. If not to her or y/n then to himself.

“We were.. ya know, well not exactly. I mean we were about to and I might have, accidentally, lashed out. It’s all a blur now. All I know is, one minute they were there on top of me and then on the floor. I guess I have a trigger when someone holds me down.”

“So you had a panic attack?” She’s now writing.

“Yeah..”

“And then what happened?”

“Could you stop writing, please. I can hear the scribbling as if you’re etching something into my skull. It’s very annoying.”

“Stay on topic. What’d you do after saying them on the floor?”

“I left, okay? I apologized and I left.” He stands from his seated position and paces the floors of her office.

“When did all this happen?”

“Two weeks ago today.” He runs his hands over his face in frustration and exhaustion. Since that day the nightmares were on overdrive. As if his mind stores special, horrible memories just to torcher him.

He sees y/n time to time through their windows but that’s it. No more friendly chats to help him through his darkest nights. No more y/n and that heavenly smile even on a long day's night.

Everything is just as it was before. Just Bucky and his thoughts, a dangerous combination. His eyes well up with tears, the feeling of loneliness taking over his entire body.

“Earth to Bucky?” The therapist shouts, snapping her fingers.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you’d seen this person since that day.” She reiterated.

“Oh.. uh, no. I mean, yes. I see them but we haven’t spoken.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“I’m scared. I don’t want them to look at me like I’m a monster. I’m not who I used to be I- I’m good now. I just want them to see that.” A tear threatens to fall before he wipes it away on the back of his gloved hand. “I want to be a good person.”

The woman sighs and stands from her chair. She walks over to Bucky, tapping him on the shoulder until he turns around.

“If you really like this person, talk to them. It’s the only way to get through this. If they really like you, they’ll be patient and understanding. You’ll never know how they truly feel until you talk to them face-to-face. Our times up. Go.”

//

It was Thursday and it just so happens to be your first day off in two weeks. You’d plan to do nothing but sleep and watch awful rom coms in between the sleeping portion of the day. It was around 5pm. The sun was setting and you were on rom com number three; ‘Definitely, maybe’. You were close to tears when the doorbell rang. “Who is it?” You holler from the couch.

“It’s.. uh, it’s me, Bucky.” He could hear your heart pounding in your chest. This was a mistake. You were already frightened and you hadn’t even opened the door yet.

“Oh, I don’t think-“

“You don’t have to let me in,” he assured you. “Just.. listen or don’t. It’s totally up to you.” He waited for a response, but when you said nothing he took that as a ‘I’m listening’ and continued, “I fucked up, y/n. I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I can’t take back what I did, but I swear to god if I could I would. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me for the rest of your life, but you gotta know something. I really like you. I’m over the moon for you. I can’t stop thinking about you and your beautiful smile or how gentle and patient you are with people and not just me.

“You’ve never asked me about my past or where I come from. You’ve always liked me for me, who I am right now. I’ll never find anyone who sees me for me the way you do and I’ll do anything. Anything. To get your trust back. Just give me another chance, please.”

You stared at the door, speechless. The desperation in his voice is tearing you apart. He hadn’t explained what actually happened, but you know in time he will. There were many things you needed to talk about, but for right now all you wanted was him.

He stood at your door leaning his forehead against it in defeat. He knows you're still there but couldn’t be sure if you were actually listening or if you were still nervous with his presents in your doorway. He bit his lip as he waited for any sort of movement or noise, other than your heart beat.

He sighs in defeat, “okay, I’ll go.”

“Bucky wait..” you say, seeing him halfway down the hall. “I hear what you’re saying and you’re right, I do like you for who you are. But I need to know about your past and why in the world you have a metal arm.” You huff out a laugh, “You can’t hide who you were just because you’re ashamed. I want to be your rock, I want to be the person you come to after every nightmare. I want all of you, including your past.”

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” Bucky’s inches away from you now, taking your right hand into his metal one. “I want you to be my future and if that means showing you my past, so be it.”

You smile up at him and let out a sigh of relief, “god, I missed you.”

Bucky kisses you gently, running his flesh hand through your hair. “I missed you too.” He said, never leaving your lips. “I was also the Winter Soldier.”

“WHAT?”

Fin

//

Masterlist

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[suqarshaxx]

a shaxx mini story cause i’m love h*rny

red text = shaxx talking :>

— exhaustion

“i understand zavala, and i’ll follow your orders but i seriously think we need to think of taking a stealthier approach. send me and two other highly skilled stealth guardians and we’ll get it done.” zavala looked at you like you were stupid. “i’m not sending only three guardians in with no true insight of the ship layout. i’ll bring up your idea with the vanguard but that could take more weeks. we have no idea what we’re up against and i want to know before i go sending three of my most skilled guardians into a blind zone.” *sigh* you’re too tired for this. “you have a point sir. i’ll let you get back to your work.” you left zavala’s office with your head up...until you heard the office doors close. “finally” you sigh, letting your head fall. see, life has gotten a lot more frustrating and exhausting. since cayde died you’ve been incredibly lonely. it was hard accepting he was really gone.

you picked up other activities to get away from it. crucible was the one to take up most of your time, and, it was a positive. you were becoming closer to shaxx and it had probably been the first week in awhile you hadn’t felt completely lonely. he was great at distracting you from what happened. as you were making your way up the stairs you stopped by banshee’s setup to talk for a bit. unluckily, a lot of guardians were also there so that meant no banshee time. but, its not the end of the world. you kept walking and gave master rahool a polite greeting as you past by. you start making your way towards shaxx when you see he was talking to another guardian. by the looks of shaxx’s body language, he seemed to be trying to explain something to the young one. you respect shaxx and his students so you just stood off to the side waiting.

he notices you and quickly dismisses the other guardian. you start walking over towards him while shaking your head and smiling. “shaxx you didn’t have to send that guardian off i was fine wai-“ shaxx cut you off swiftly. “guardian? what are you doing here?” his voice sounding concerned. “what are you talking about?” i wanted to see you, and what bounties you’re offering.” your look went from happy to puzzled very quickly. “y/n...” shaxx lightly grabs your arm to pull you off to the side. “how long has it been?” this is starting to get odd. “shaxx what are you talking about?” what’s his deal? “have you seen your eyes y/n? they’re hollow black. you can tell you haven’t been sleeping. so, how long has it been since you actually slept?” you sigh. someone had to say something. someone always, has to say something. “shaxx, im alright. ikora asked me to help out with some extra paperwork a few days ago and it was a lot so i just stayed up for a couple of days and haven’t had the option to rest yet. it’s only my third day and trust me i plan on sleeping tonight.” you said with a faint smile. “you haven’t spoken to her in weeks. you even told me that.” now it’s awkward. shaxx crossed his arms, “you can’t lie to me about this. now please, let me take you home so you can rest.” his voice was so sad and soft. “the last thing i’d need is for you to get hurt in crucible fights because you cant stand up right.” he lightly said under his breath. as much as you hated it, he was right. what good are you to anyone if you can barely function? “okay, i promise i’ll rest but don’t feel the need to walk me home. i know i’m a bit wobbly but if you have work to do, i’m not gonna keep you from it. i can still walk myself home.” “not a chance, i wanna make sure you actually fall asleep.” you could tell he really cared about you. “just give me a few moments to gather my things.”

the walk was very silent but wasn’t ever awkward. the exhaustion was always with you but knowing you grew closer and closer to a bed made that tired feeling way worse. as you and shaxx were walking you held hands. sorta-ish? you held onto two of his fingers. the index and middle one. shaxx didn’t seem to mind it and neither did you so no one said anything about it.

as the two of you approached your home you started getting tense. sure everyone could tell you weren’t sleeping but no one knew you weren’t even staying in your own home. those damn memories of cayde flood your head every time you’re inside. truthfully, it was scary. never knowing if it’s going to be a happy memory or him taking his final breaths terrifies you. obviously to the point where you can’t even sleep in your own home. shaxx could tell you were tense considering once you got closer and closer, you didn’t realize but you were tightly gripping his fingers now. “guardian? are you alright?” you couldn’t shift your gaze from the home but still replied. “yes i’m alright, thank you for bringing me home.” a minute of silence passed before you broke it and looked over at shaxx. “if you’d like you can come in, grab a drink rest for a few minutes and then get back to the crucible.” “ah i finally get to see how one of my best players lives?” you know he said that with a smirk across his face. you couldn’t help but chuckle a bit.

you two entered your house and you offered to make some tea, which shaxx politely declined. he wanted the tea but you could tell he wanted you to rest more. “is there anything i can do to make you more comfortable? you’ve seemed very tense since we’ve got here.” should you tell him? should you not tell him? you’ve always kept to yourself but it’s like be makes it impossible for you not to share. he feels like the only one you don’t have to lie to. “shaxx, i have to be honest. the last time i slept was here, and the last time i’ve been here was almost a month ago.” you couldn’t directly look him in the eyes but could feel him looking down at you. “why didn’t you say anything sooner?” pride i guess... “i’m not sure, i thought maybe i could handle myself but i just ended up running away from it.” a singular sigh left shaxx’s mouth. “alright then, come on.” you were confused. “what do you mean? come where?” “your mattress y/n. you obviously are having trouble sleeping because of your nightmares, and i’m sure not having someone here either to comfort you isn’t helpful. so i’ll stay with you for the rest of the day that way if you do have a nightmare, you have someone to help you.” wow.. “shaxx, that’s incredibly nice and i truly appreciate it but i couldn’t ask you to do that. you still have the crucible to run and bounties to sell and guardians to teach and-“ shaxx cut you off before you continued to ramble on. “it’s alright, ive already worked things out to take the rest of the day off. the crucible can wait guardian, you can’t.” “are you sure?” “i’m positive, now! you must go rest!” he said in his “crucible” voice. you couldn’t help but giggle. as different as it was, shaxx did make you feel less lonely. maybe it’s time to accept that while cayde might be gone physically, it doesn’t mean you have to stop cherishing him through memories. maybe it’s a new path forward. “thank you shaxx, i greatly appreciate it.” you gave him a hug and asked if he needed anything else before going to bed. he simply shook his head and made a resting gesture. you smiled and went to your bedroom. you couldn’t deny that you felt very nervous but you just trusted your gut that if anything happened shaxx would be there, and hopefully, he’d still be there when you awoke.

—————————

ok hi so uhh a/n i did NOT expect to write this long and much so yeah! i hope you enjoy and this is my first time *publicly* writing and posting a fic so i hope you enjoy :>

[acemeaskipper]

okay this is so much longer than I thought it’d be, but okay. i started thinking of this au where instead of joining red dwarf to get back to earth, Lister joins to get away from earth and all the bad memories there. He works a little harder, understands Rimmer a bit more, and unfortunately, doesn’t have Frankenstein.

and this is a little fic about Lister’s first day on red dwarf and his meeting with Rimmer. It’s lowkey shippy, but only a little. Yeah, enjoy.

A star exploded the day Lister left earth. The supernova had reflected multicoloured on the inside walls of Red Dwarf, nearly blinding him.

He wasn’t sure if it was a sign of some sort, but regardless, it had been an interesting way to start his new job. More interesting than his room at least.

It was both bigger and smaller than he thought it’d be, and painfully plain. If only they were allowed to paint the walls, or get a nice rug or carpet, Lister mused, then it may look a little less like a sci-fi hell. Oh well, he was sure if he covered the walls in enough photos and posters it could look a little bit more like home. It wasn’t as if he was going to be here long anyway, he could handle a boring room.

He tightened his grip on his suitcase, shifted the strap of his backpack a little then walked in.

“Hello, Dave. You like the room?”

“Agh!”

Lister jumped and spun around to the source of the voice. The face of a tired-looking man on a screen. Ah, right. The AI, Holly. He briefly wondered why they had decided to make their AI look so exhausted, but shrugged the thought away. People were weird, what the hell.

“Uh, hi. Holly, righ’?”

“That’s right, my dude. So?”

“It’s alrigh’,” Lister shrugged, “I guess.”

“Bit boring, ain’t it?” Holly agreed.

“Yeah, it is. Is it at least warm?”

“Sometimes.”

“Great, great…”

“Oh, and heads up, your roommate is coming soon. Good luck.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“Don’t mention it,” Holly nodded, “Catch you later, dude.”

“Yeah…”

Holly disappeared, and Dave couldn’t help but snicker. Dude? They hadn’t mentioned that about Holly in the leaflet. Maybe it was intentional, a strange surprise for new workers. He supposed that was one way to prepare people for the weirdness of space, having the AI who looked like a middle-aged man going around say ‘dude’.

He shook his head and moved closer to the bunk beds, looking them over.

It was honestly hard to tell which one was already occupied, both beds were both neat, tidy and lacking in any personality whatsoever. There was one colourful timetable stuck on the wall next to the bottom bunk, however, and Lister concluded it was probably taken.

It seemed strange how bare the walls were, though. No pictures of family or friends, no posters, no nothing. Had this person only just moved in too? No, he knew for a fact this person had already been here a year or two at least. And gone through six roommates in the span of three months. A slightly daunting fact, but hopefully, the number would stay at six.

He slung his bags onto the top bunk, decided to unpack them later… maybe. The week was young after all, he’d have plenty of time to do that later.

Lister sat down on one of the chairs in the room and took a deep breath. Hardly nothing had happened, and already he was exhausted. His eyes ached, his limbs felt heavy, and he let out a yawn. A nap would be nice… but snoring probably wasn’t the best way to introduce yourself to your new roommate, so Lister held off.

He ran his fingers over his hair and tried to think of something to keep himself away. Maybe he should go back to dreadlocks, he thought, that’d been fun back when he was a teen. But. But he didn’t have anyone to help him with them anymore.

He’d left them all behind, just like they had left him.

Of course, he was alive when they had left, and they were all just bones now. So maybe it wasn’t a fair comparison… Lister hoped his friend Camille would remember to put flowers on all the graves every month, just like he’d asked. They probably wouldn’t, always too caught up in the drama that was their Casablanca-love affair to think of much else, but he could hope.

Lister sighed and slouched in his chair. Nah, his hair was fine as it was. Loose and tied back. He looked fine. Fine.

Then, the door opened.

The person on the other side didn’t walk in immediately, too busy snapping at someone Lister couldn’t see, to notice the door had opened.

A tall, skinny white guy with pale skin, and light brown curls that had been clearly forced into a flat and dull style. Every inch of his body screamed ‘tense’ as he barked insults, face going ever so slightly red.

Ah, what luck.

Lister stood up and waited until the yelling had stopped to speak.

“You’re Howie’s brother, aren’t you?”

The guy’s snapped in Lister’s direction, and Lister had the urge to apologise and slowly back away.

“’Howie’? The man repeated.

Yep, that was definitely him, Lister knew. He’d only met one other person before with such an obnoxiously posh voice, which he had been told was common on that planet.

“Sorry, Howard,” Lister apologised, “You’re Arnold Rimmer, right?”

Rimmer frowned even more.

“Yes, I am.”

Lister walked towards him, and with a big smile, held out his hand.

“I’m David Lister.”

“Oh.”

Rimmer’s frown dropped into something less ‘I will fucking kill you’ and more ‘ew, there’s a dead bug in my drink’. He did shake Lister’s hand at least.

“Howard’s told us about you,” Rimmer continued, “Poor little orphan boy from earth somehow manages to get into Io’s Space Corps training program on a scholarship, truly a success story for the ages.”

Lister twisted his lip but said nothing. Howard had warned him that his little brother could put a lemon to shame with how bitter he was, but Lister had been hoping Rimmer wouldn’t be this bad from the get-go.

“Doesn’t really mean anything though,” Lister shrugged, “Now tha’ I’m here, as a third blood technician.”

Was it too much to ask that he was at least made a second technician with all his qualifications? Maybe he was just being prideful, but he’d thought he enough skills to be more than a vending machine fixer.

But at that, Rimmer pulled himself to stand straighter and smiled. He looked a lot better now, Lister mused. Almost handsome.

“Third technician, aye? Well, don’t you worry, miladdo-”

“Mi-whatto?”

“-you’re in good hands with me.”

“Huh?”

“If you’re a third technician and my roommate, you’re likely to be working the Z Shift with me, as your immediate superior officer,” Rimmer explained.

Lister gave what he hoped looked like a real smile.

“Great.”

“Still though, I don’t see why on Io you would leave the Space Corps,” Rimmer mused.

“Because it’s filled with pompous, trust-fund pricks who like to spend their evenings bragging about how big their guns are.”

Also, it was a lot of work. A lot of hard work. A month in and Lister had already been ready to drop. He wasn’t too surprised when a drunk Howard had blabbed about the high suicide rate there.

Rimmer let out a sharp laugh at that, then quickly shut his mouth and blinked. He almost looked surprised. But he quickly shook his head and moved on.

“Yes, but it’s the Space Corps! It’s where you go if you want a career in space!”

“I don’t want a career; I just want to get away from Earth.”

Earth was a place were babies were abandoned under pub tables, were parents disappeared and left you a crying kid, and grans died just when you needed them most. Where people broke your heart and laughed, where people called you stupid and said you’d never amount to anything, so suck it up, buttercup.

Rimmer pursed his lips.

“I supposed I could understand wanting to get away from that horrid little planet, but really… giving up a job on the Space Corps for this?”

Lister shrugged.

“I just want to get some cash, find a nice planet with a nice beach, then settle down. Maybe open a farm, get a cat, sheep, horses, then spend the rest of my days doing whatever the hell I want.”

Rimmer didn’t seem to get it.

“But you could have been an officer! Howard said so, and he’s not one to give out praise like that.”

“Why’d you want to be an officer? They’re all smegheads, I mean, just look at your brothers.”

That earned another out of Rimmer, one that wasn’t as sharp and lasted a little longer. There, that was better, Lister grinned. Not the prettiest laugh ever, but he didn’t sound half bad.

“Fair point,” Rimmer said.

And before he could continue with ‘but still’, Lister began speaking again.

“The though’ of ending up like Howard could put anyone off wanting to be an officer, honestly.”

“Really? You didn’t like him? He seemed awfully fond of you…”

“Hid it,” Lister shrugged, “He was my tutor and said he’d help me get here, so couldn’t bitch about him too much. Wanted to though, I never had any free time thanks to ‘im. Almost every night I had to drag him out of the bar and to ‘is room.”

“What?!” Rimmer exclaimed.

“Yeah, don’t think he had any friends, so he’d bribe me into fetching ‘im. Used to buy cigarettes off me too. Dunno why he wouldn’ jus’ buy them himself, a lot of other officers smoked too…”

Slowly, a giant (slightly mad-looking) smile grew on Rimmer’s face.

“Really? He told mother he had a ton of friends.”

Lister wondered if he should mention it. On the one hand, it could lead to Rimmer freaking out (Howard had mentioned that Rimmer was a bit… neurotic), but on the other… it didn’t seem right not to mention it.

“Must be invisible then, ‘cause he was always alone when he went out… he told me a lot about you when he was drunk. The things him and the other two used to do to you.”

The smile dropped off Rimmer’s face.

“Oh.”

Lister risked it and gave Rimmer a pat on the arm. Rimmer looked at it like it was a radioactive butterfly; strange and possibly dangerous.

“Pretty shit childhood, huh?” Lister said. Rimmer stayed silent. “Mine was pretty fucked up too, so we match.”

Lister gave him a smile, then turned around to climb up onto his bunk bed.

Rimmer seemingly forgot to act like a human being for a few seconds, staring blankly into space while stood completely still. He shook it off a second later.

“No shoes on the bed,” he snapped.

“My feet aren’t on the bed though,” Lister pointed out.

Rimmer’s face went a little red.

“I- just take them off!”

“Okay, okay! They’re off!”

Lister kicked them off, leaving them to fall down loudly in a muddy pile next to the ladder. Rimmer frowned and glared at the shoes.

“And now you’ve made a mess, wonderful.”

“You better get used to tha’, I’m a bit of a slob,” Lister chuckled, “Oh, and I snore too. Sorry. I do have a sleep cpap machine, but it got broke on the way here. They said I’ll have to wait a day or two for a new one.”

“So, I’m not getting any sleep either, splendid.”

“I can’ help it.”

“Why don’t they put people like you in a room of your own? Or at least with other snoring smegheads,” Rimmer muttered.

“Because tha’d be smart,” Lister snorted.

Rimmer looked a little happier. Right, compliments were the way to go if he wanted to survive this job. Lister could handle that; he could be a good suck-up if the situation called for it.

“Sounds like they could do with someone like you as an officer,” Lister said, “Might come up with some actual smart ideas.”

Rimmer lit up like the supernova and Lister’s heart fluttered a little.

Oh.

Handsome. Rimmer could be very handsome, it seemed. That was nice. Lister sent him back a lazy grin, revelling in the soft pink that settled on Rimmer’s cheeks. It’d been a while since he’d dated a man, Lister noted, maybe it was time to try again.

“I-I-,” Rimmer began. But then he stopped and shook his head. “Are you sure you’re even old enough to be here?”

Lister rolled his eyes.

“Course I am, man. Not like I could really trick anyone into thinkin’ I’m older than I am with this face, can I?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Rimmer agreed.

Lister wondered why Rimmer would care about his age- oh.

Rimmer coughed and looked away.

“Well, um, have you been given a tour of the ship yet?”

He had.

“No.”

Rimmer turned back around and smirked a little.

“Come on then, get your boots back on and I’ll show you around.”

“Oh, thanks, man.”

Lister grinned and hoped down. As he put his boots on, he could feel Rimmer’s eyes on him. Yes, he decided, as he tied on his already tied laces for a few seconds later, this could be fun.

[hoorayfornicepeople-blog]

February 26, 2018

Where to begin? Probably with a deep breath. Two months from today, I will be on a plane back to the States, which means I have reached the half way point. Time certainly doesn’t slow down. Today I went to the immigration office in Kampala to swap my tourist visa out for a student visa, symbolic of some sort of greater permanence, of this becoming a kind of home and less of a quick stop along the way.

This week is probably also the busiest week of the semester so far (or so it feels). Last week was spring break, which I spent on my rural homestay, with a family in Soroti, in the Serere district of Northern Uganda. We left last Friday on the 16th and returned just last night (Sunday). The week left me with an awful lot to process through, which made jumping into this busy week quite challenging. Today, I struggled to balance the need to prioritize processing, with some of the pressing academic tasks that needed to be done. This has been a consistent thread this semester, but it felt particularly heightened today. I spent the week totally unplugged from technology and the rest of the world and reentry last night brought me 169 new emails and zero desire to read any of them. The emotional energy required to talk with people and explain my week to them proved difficult to find. Many of you have already responded to my inability to explain with understanding and grace.

Tonight, in an attempt to sort through the emails remaining unread from last night, I read the notes from the first La Vida training, which happened last week while I was away. (Update in case I haven’t told you— headed to the Adirondack’s to Sherpa in August!!) Per usual with God’s timing, the “devo thought” from the training was so poignant and relevant to my inner dialogue that I could have cried. It was taken from Elton Trueblood:

“The man who supposes that he has no time to pray or to reflect, because of social tasks which are urgent and numerous, will soon find that he has become fundamentally unproductive, because he will have separated his life from his roots….A man has made a step toward a genuine maturity when he realizes that, though he ought to perform kind and just acts, the greatest gift he can give others consist in being a radiant and encouraging person. What we are is more significant in the long run, than what we do. It is impossible for a man to give what he does not have.”

Yesterday, Will had reminded me to give myself permission to prioritize my mental, emotional, spiritual health/need for processing and reflection, even if that meant temporarily setting aside an assignment or other academic task. You know me enough to know that this advice is a tough pill for me to swallow, even though I know it’s true. Today, it was abundantly clear to me that lack of processing, even briefly, was leaving me “fundamentally unproductive,” no matter how much I tried to discipline myself. And so here I am, engaging in one of the most cathartic exercises I’ve ever known, writing. As usual, I am grateful for your willingness to sit patiently and listen while I attempt to sort through the richness of this experience and put it into words.

Spring Break 2k18… last year during spring break there was a giant blizzard. This year, in Sortoti, the average weekly temperature was somewhere around 100 degrees (not even hyperbolizing here). I went into the week expecting I would sleep in a hut, slaughter a chicken, carry water on my head, and milk a cow. I did none of the above. There’s a lesson on perception and expectations in there. When I was dropped off on Saturday, my host mama matter-of-factly informed me— “This week, it will be too hot for activities, but we will prepare food, eat, and sit.” That turned out to be an incredibly accurate synopsis of the week. In addition to the heat, we are currently on the tail end of dry season, which contributed to the lack of activity, since my host parents primarily farm. The third and final factor that shaped the level of activity of the week was that both of my host parents are in their 70s,  incredibly strong and fit, but still doing less physically demanding work at this stage of life.

However, here are some things that I did get to do:

Bucket bathed… a lot

Drank 4,000 Nalgenes a day (don’t worry Mom, I stayed hydrated)

Rested

Star gazed

Ate food

Went to church

Visited the village center

Learned to remove the internal organs of a chicken prior to cooking it

Washed dishes

Did laundry

Drank tea

Swept and mopped the house

Learned to cook a lot of things in the outdoor kitchen— posho, lots of different kinds of potatoes, soup, greens, millet/potato/sorghum bread…

Constructed an underground oven and cooked sweet potatoes in it

Rested

Read 600+ pages (spread between three books)

Sat in silence

Listened to the radio

Beat, winnowed, and separated millet

Rested

Ate more food

Visited the neighbors

Sewed pillowcases

Shelled G-nuts

Picked, cut, and ate jackfruit

Spent too much time in the pit latrine after eating jackfruit

Watched thunderstorms from the porch (It rained four nights in a row. Before leaving for the week, Eddie told us the mzungus always bring the rain to Soroti. I thought it was a crazy superstition, but it turned out to be absolutely right.)

Drank more tea

Rested

Picked and ate fresh oranges

My mama’s favorite phrase was “you go rest now,” since my room was like an oven during the day, this usually meant finding the shadiest spot and reading my book or journaling, rather than taking a nap. In combination with the amount of time I already spent sitting in silence with my host parents, or by myself in between other activities, this was wild. Before leaving, I asked people to pray for my ability to be present. God responded by providing opportunities to be present in excess. Retrospectively, the time that I had this week to reflect, contemplate, learn, and rest was truly valuable, but my impatience made it difficult to recognize in the moment. I experienced a week of simplicity, with little urgency. A culture not enslaved to clock time or schedules, but guided by the needs of the present moment, subsistence, and the daily rhythm of the earth. It was simultaneously one of the most challenging, defining, and enriching (still convincing myself of the last part) parts of the week.

The week included some of my most challenging experiences in communicating cross-culturally– navigating difficult conversations, pushing myself not to be dismissive of a differences of opinion rooted in cultural conditioning, doing my best to practice humility and openness, and learning that I have an accent that is at times hard to understand. This is something I still need to unpack, but you can ask me about it if you’re curious.

Much of what I learned this week came through lots of observation and listening. I learned a lot about the historical and current politics of Northern Uganda and it’s rocky relationship with President Museveni, who punishes the region by withholding government resources or using discriminatory policies, because of the imbalance of power based in tribal/ethnic divisions. I learned about theology, community, he education system, marriage, death, parenting, family, environment, land and agriculture, politics, and history all as they’re shaped by the culture and context of Northern Uganda. Detailing each of these would  take an incredible number of words.

I also learned about some of the most prominent poverty related issues Ugandans are experiencing, particularly related to education and medical care. Serere is and has been one of the most impoverished areas of Uganda. However, hear me on this. When you close your eyes and picture poverty in Africa, that image in your mind is not a universal representation. I learned that about myself and my own preconceptions this week for sure. I wrestled (and still am, present tense) with the task of attempting to define and understand poverty and all that is wrapped up in that. In the West, one might look at my host parents and consider them poor. But they do not struggle to put food on the table, they sustain themselves through the land they own and the food they grow. They understand conservation, care for what they own, and work very hard. If measured, their land and animals could translate to monetary value that would increase their material wealth significantly. At the same time, in the village this week, I observed acute poverty that has been unmatched by anything in the previous two months. All the while, I was reading “The White Man’s Burden,” a convicting critique by a former World Bank economist of Western involvement in the developing world, particularly through aid, military and political interference, and all forms of residual neocolonialism. I don’t think I will ever stop grappling with the irreparable damage we have done in our pursuits of materialism and power, and our misuse of resources and privilege. This paragraph is insufficient to express my questions and tangled thought processes about this particular topic, but for now, it’s what I’m capable of writing.

By the end of the week, I had more questions than answers. Honestly, what else is new. On Friday morning, we were picked up and drove to Kapchowra, about an hour away, where we spent the weekend. On Friday night, we spent time in intentional debrief, which was helpful, but in many ways only began to scratch the surface of our 25 different experiences. Saturday, we had a day of emotional (but definitely not physical) rest. After a lovely breakfast, we hiked Mount Elgon, an extinct volcano and home to the famous Sipi Falls, one of Uganda’s bigger tourist spots. The ten mile hike was exhausting, but refreshing and breathtaking. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.

We had a quick thirty minute respite after the hike before we began a “coffee tour.” Kapchowra is the OG home of the Arabica coffee bean, discovered long ago by a lucky farmer who just wanted to find out why his goats were getting hyper after eating the leaves of some tree with redish colored berries. On the tour, we got to learn about and help with the process of making coffee, from picking beans  to pouring a steaming cup and everything in between. Definitely a highlight for me, even if it was a horribly touristy activity. Shown in the photo below is me shelling coffee beans. Not pictured was the slap happy, caffeine induced state my roommates witnessed me in after the effects of having more coffee than I’ve had in two months kicked in. Let’s say I was laughing at everything and didn’t get the most sleep I’ve ever gotten, but it was quite worth it.

On Sunday morning, we hiked to the top of the little hill above the guest house for a small worship service before our departure. I was asked to give a brief testimony about what God has been teaching me in this first half of the semester (in 5-10 minutes??). I spoke about patience. presence, and newness, the ways that He has been revealing my restlessness to me, but it felt next to impossible to come up with some concise summary of the work He has done in me in the past two months (and is surely continuing to do). Thanks for sticking with me and reading this long post to the end. If it feels open ended, that’s because my thoughts are open ended in so many ways right now. I don’t want to settle for a pretty packaged or over-simplified version of the week. In some areas, I settled for brevity in this post, because I don’t want to risk sounding like I have the answers.  I know the week was hard; I know the week was valuable. I know it left me with even more to ponder than I already had, which I didn’t know was possible. As I talk with you individually in the coming weeks, don’t be afraid to ask me questions, because they will help me in my pondering, but know that I am unresolved and still figuring out how to understand.

A brief post-script. Some people (not necessarily any of you) have made comments to my USP friends and I that come with a perceived bravery or accomplishment in what we did last week. “You lived in a rural village in Africa?! That must have been so hard, you are so brave!” or something of the sort. All I will say is that I am not brave. My attitude at points during the week was not even in the ballpark of praiseworthy. This whole thing is as far from being about me as possible. I felt like an outsider this week, even though I was being welcomed into a community. Don’t hear me being dismissive of your encouragement. But I challenge all of you to not let your perceptions of African poverty to shape your visions of my experience. I think these kinds of comments, while well intentioned, are rooted in subconscious (read: often distorted) pictures of the reality of a place like this. I hope that as I communicate to you, the things I say will never glorify or manipulate the things I am experiencing as a result of my own pride and desire for affirmation. Please call me out if you ever see or hear this in my words. Thanks again for being in my corner.

All my love,

Abs

Spring Break February 26, 2018 Where to begin? Probably with a deep breath. Two months from today, I will be on a plane back to the States, which means I have reached the half way point.