Tree Trimming

Most days living as an American abroad are much like living as an American at home.  Running errands, cooking dinner, spending time with friends.  Most days are unremarkable.  Then there are days when you notice something and it sticks in your mind.

This morning I welcomed the head embassy gardener, A., and one of his colleagues into our yard to look at the trees.  I love the trees in our yard but half a dozen of them have sagging limbs hanging over our roof.  A. was quite concerned that the trees would start dropping their branches when the rains start in October.  He frowned and confided, “I’m afraid the roof is made of asbestos, so we don’t want anything to damage it.”  I returned a sarcastic “great!” and we shared a little chuckle.  Ah, the joys of living in an old house.

We continued around to the back of the house where I pointed out some more branches that should come down.  Now, these were not in-danger-of-causing-us-cancer branches, but they were dropping too many little yellow flowers into the pool.  Those branches have been the constant enemy of our terrific gardener Chrispin (or just Chris).  A. agreed that those too should go.

Within minutes I had convinced the guard to let the tree trimming crew into the yard – Chris would supervise their work.  A. gave them a speech about the US government worrying about their safety and how they should always wear their harnesses when climbing up the trees.  He also told them that if they died on the job, he would come back and kill them himself.  More chuckles all around.

Once the trimmers set about their work, A. and I started talking.  It came up in conversation that I teach history.  He told me that he was never very good in history but still remembers quite a bit of what they learned in school.  He said that when he was growing up the Zambian education system was very focused on America and Europe.  He smiled sadly as he remembered knowing more about Detroit than he did about Lusaka.  He memorized the population, the climate, and the history of a city that few Americans even think about these days.

His colleague then said that she is always surprised and a little offended when Americans give her background information on an event from American history.  With a wide-eyed laugh she said “I learned all of that in secondary school!”.  I tried to make her feel better by admitting that Americans probably do that because they figure other people know as little about our history as we do theirs.  She nodded as if she thought I could be on to something.

Then A. asked us if we had heard President Obama’s speech commemorating the 5oth anniversary of the March on Washington on the radio last night.  I told him I had and was curious to hear what he thought of it.  He beamed as he talked about our (America’s) lofty ideals and how we seem to always want to improve upon our past.  And about how he thinks President Obama will be better appreciated once he leaves office.  He said it was too bad, but that is often what happens with leaders, especially those gifted at public speaking.

That’s what I can’t get out of my head.  This man, in Lusaka, Zambia, has thought so much about American history.  I just wish that our students would learn a little bit more about people beyond our borders.