Queen Mother’s Birthday

…why do I care? I don’t, sentimentally, everyone loves birthdays, but I don’t even know Queen Mum’s name. Attending the Queen’s Birthday Party at the British Embassy is something to do, something that keeps life exciting. While I sit around on my wireless internet and dream of what to do this weekend, exciting poignant stories to put on my blog, to make myself seem worthy of doing something overseas, I can hardly justify a purpose in why its worth my working here. Yeah I might have more patience than most to produce maps-GALORE, but don't know much how to help the crippled dude who sleeps on asphalt right outside my compound, and waits for who knows what tomorrow. I look for excitement, who am I gonna meet, what connection will I make at the next party, what will I do next?? ….i wonder what that dude looks for…a cigarette or two to mix up the day? Wonder why he sleeps on the asphalt rather than under the beautiful budding tree a few feet safely off the road? Is he taking a chance at getting hit? What about Gabriel, the 5 year security guard who makes sure American diplomats are safe and secure while he stays up all night and gets paid a minimal salary, dreaming how wonderful it might be to practically apply his engineering degree. Not here, not yet… the few development projects prefer international graduates, because the Congolese schools aren’t much good. Well he’s certainly no dumber than me, just a victim of longitude and latitude it seems. And what am I to do; to work my hardest, to tell his plight, to be thankful, and to help where I can. Is giving 50 cents to or ignoring a begging woman the best decision in the midst of society that looks at donation as deliverance…whats best in the short and long term? For me to discuss problems of the Congo over an expensive, suitable lunch, with some of the best minds in the world, or to go low-budget and fork out my money and let the chips fall? It’s a crazy world…wonder what the guidebooks say?