Où la route mène.

Elle aura mené Ous au Manitoba il y aura 3 ans à la fin du mois de juillet. Débarqué ici avec un sac de voyage dans lequel se trouvait des souliers superbes pour une reine (moi), quelques petits bijoux, des tissus. Mais le meilleur cadeau c'était lui. Nous nous sommes installés sur une rue qui portait le nom d'été et avons entamé notre vie à deux avec vigueur et passion. Monsieur est très débrouillard, il a déniché un boulot tout de suite, mais ne s'est jamais arrêté là. "Si on n'avance pas, on recule".

Il a trouvé autre chose, ailleurs, puis a fait des études et obtenu un poste dans le domaine de la santé. L'an dernier il a voulu retourner à ses premiers amours: la médecine.Et maintenant, afin de poursuivre ce but, il commence des études en sciences infirmières. Cependant, pour ce faire, et bien réussir, nous allons devoir reprendre notre vie de nomades....

Depuis janvier, nous sommes dans les boîtes et les cartons. Nous trions, je garde ceci, il jette cela. Je redécouvre d'anciennes phots, incroyables que mes si grands enfants eussent été si petits, qu'ils aient portés ces habits minuscules... Ne seraient-ce de tous ces souvenirs, nous aurions terminé depuis longtemps. Samedi matin, nous avons loué un camion et irons entreposer nos bagages jusqu'à l'heure de déménagement. La semaine prochaine, la pancarte "À vendre" sera posée devant la maison.

Dans 3 semaines nous partons à l'aventure!

I'm not buying anymore household appliances.

Everytime I do, I end up moving.

I remember the first washer and dryer we bought, when the kids were babies. So exciting, a new washing machine, that rinced out diapers twice! Wow! Two years later we sold the house, moved and ended up with a pair of much older washer and dryer... mmfft. A few years after that, when they gave up on us and died, we bought new ones, and lo and behold, moved a few months later, leaving behind our recent acquisitions. Bought another house later, and a wonderful, super-duper stove, then I ended up divorcing and he got the house and stove.

Two years ago, Ous and I bought a great front load washer. (New husband, new appliances, what the heck...) I had been wanting one for years, ( a front-loader) and the old thing I had in the basement seemd almost pre-historic. I jokingly told him (the husband)that each time I had bought a household appliance in the past I had ended up moving and leaving it behind. Well, 2 months later, we decided to pack up our stuff and move.... We did end up taking the washer along, for the ride. It didn't fit through the basement door, but somehow we managed to get it down there anyway.

Now we are moving again. Hey turns out, maybe I am the Nomad in this story. The appliances are all staying here. We'll find a nice appartment there. Then we will search high and low for appliances, and a house. Then we will buy the appliances, move them into the house and hopefully stay puy for at least 4 years.

At least, today, as we speak, that is the plan.

I was a mail order bride.

Going through episodes quickly. He came here. He left. I went there a few years later. I came back here. I went back there. I came back here (almost didn't). Changed my whole life around, became Muslim, tried to learn a new language.

One day I got a letter in the mail. Or rather, a parcel. A beautiful delicate statue of an african woman, pouring water over her head. And with it the letter. Professing his undying love, that had never been mentionned before. Wanting to spend the rest of his life with me. My mariage proposal came from across the sea, via Canada Post. I like to say I was a mail-order bride.

He was working oout in the jungle, no internet for email, no telephone number for me to call back, and I think he didn't even have an address at the time. Not locally anyway. So I had to phone his family in Dakar to ask them to tell him, next time they were able to contact him, to give me a call. He called on a Sunday morning in June, to wish me happy birthday. I wished him happy birthday too, since we are only a couple of days apart. Then I said: tell your dad to slaughter a lamb, I accept. Took him a few minutes to comprehend what I was saying: telephone lines from Guinnea Bissau are not the greatest. Then I think the surprise and happiness got the better of him, and he was speechless for a few moments. And before our time ran out on his calling card, he promised to call again next Sunday so that we could start planning the wedding.

Thank God for the Post Office, who sent me the best husband ever.

I married a Nomad.

Didn't find out he was a nomad until recently, although the clues were there.

We met when he was travelling to Canada and came to visit a friend in Winnipeg in 2002. He returned fome after almost a year of travelling, and eventhough "home" was the capital city of his country, he worked a few hours away and came home on week-ends. Then he found a better job, but it was still a few hours away from home, in the other direction, And a couple more years down the road, he still lived in his country's capital city, but worked in a different country.

When I decided that I wanted to visit to travel the world, or at least visit some far away land, mutual friends of ours reminded me that I did know someone at the other end of the world, and this someone would be happy to be my guide in his homeland. So I got in touch with this man that I had met 3 years previously and he siad his family would be happy to welcome me in their home. Off I went. (Ok so maybe I also have nomad blood in my veins.)

This blog will tell the story of a man called... Ous, and a woman called Ni. Odds of them ever meeting were tiny to say the least. Odds of them ending up together, even less.

So my friends, stay tuned as I hope to make you smile with our stories, where we were, where we are now, and where we are headed in the very near future.