You might wonder what a child would miss the most living in a country far from the one they had always known. Some people might think it was TV or toy stores, but for me it was swimming. I grew up in the water; it had always been my passion. I can still remember the endless summers spent at the lake in the ice cold waters of Northern Canada. You can still go to that little red cabin and find a small square of wood, the words it once contained completely faded with age. It is a granny award given to my grandmother for jumping in the lake, clothes and all, to rescue me because I was turning purple and refusing to come out. If I'm being totally honest, I'll tell you that I'm still a little resentful of that plaque. I really don't think I needed rescuing.
So when I was eight and living in the mountains of Southern Tanzania, you can imagine the delight I felt when someone told someone else who told our family that a cement plant outside the city had a pool we could swim in. It had been a long time since we had been anywhere near water and this was like a dream come true.
On a warm sunny day, we loaded up in a van, a bunch of excited expatriates and missionary kids and headed out in search of our oasis in the desert (okay, so we weren't in a desert, but it sounds poetic and I'm the writer, so lets just pretend). The drive took way longer than any of us had anticipated and before long the groans of "Are we there yet?" could be heard filling the noisy car. There were no backseat DVDs to alleviate the great torture of sitting still for extended periods of time in that day. My poor parents; I'm not sure how they survived.
Finally, when adult minds were nearing the breaking point, we spotted the concrete blocks surrounding the quiet compound. We had arrived.
Now you must remember for a moment that I come from a world of excess. In my world there is money left over for the great necessities of life such as backyard pools, or for those of us who were so underprivileged, inexpensive public pools. In my mind, I was picturing the crystal clear, blue-green waters of a beautifully tiled pool. Maybe there'd be some lounge chairs around the edge where we could work on our skin cancer when the water got too boring. If you never knew this before, let me fill you in on something I discovered a long time ago: expectations usually lead to disappointment.
The giant concrete hole we found was indeed filled with water, but pool would probably be a far too generous word to describe it. The water was murky and we couldn't see much farther than six inches below the surface. There was no grass around the outside, only hard packed dirt and shrubs. No padded recliners. But there were frogs. Lots of them. Big and green and swimming gleefully in our cistern.
But we were young and it wasn't going to be that easy to crush our resilient spirits. We had come a long way to swim and that was what we were going to do.
"You go first," my eager friends egged me closer to the edge. I was known for my bravery back then and I wasn't about to let them down. When I had found a spot that looked relatively frog free, I dove valiantly, head first into the unknown depths. The water was warmer than I expected and when my head surfaced halfway across the pool, I gave my friends the biggest, most genuine smile my little heart could muster. "It's perfect," I shouted, content as only one that age could be.
They jumped in after me and a race to the shallow end ensued. Of course, I had the head start, so I was the first to discover an even bigger surprise waiting on the pool floor. When my feet touched bottom, a two inch layer of slimy mush squeezed between my toes and slowly began to float to the surface. The frogs didn't look so bad in comparison after all.
I don't remember much else from that day except for the fact that we swam until we were forced to leave, our feet never touching the bottom.
If I didn't already know everything there is to know, I could probably learn a little something from this brief memory my brain has clung to for all these years. You can't always blame your unhappiness on the unfairness of life. If the world gives you algae and amphibians, keep your feet up and don't swim near the edges.
