2015 in Review

 

2015 Reflections reconstructed in 2026 – Finding the missing piece in a jigsaw puzzle of my life

I was travelling in Central America when I got an urgent email around mid-January from my sister that she had to return to work after taking a family leave for three months. I had to make a short turnaround in Nicaragua and return to Vancouver mid-February to take care of my mother who had suffered a stroke. I was her primary caregiver for seven months.

It was Chinese New Year’s Day when I landed in YVR. I was told to stay in an unfurnished room in the basement of my parents’ new house. The basement was cold and moldy. I slept on an old mattress on the floor. At that time, my mother was staying in a 2-bed ward in a rehab hospital. She was going through occupational, physio and speech therapy. Everyday, I would travel by bus and stay with her in the rehab hospital for 6-8 hours. That routine lasted for about a month until my mother returned to her own home.

In order for my mother to return to her home, the house had to be modified substantially. I was also dealing with the contractors. I was also trying to find other caregivers for her 24/7 care. My mother had turned into an oversized baby with her right hemiplegia with a loss of speech. We must have interviewed at least a dozen helpers. My siblings would only come to visit for a few hours on the weekends. They would comment on how dirty the house was and that I was too harsh on our mother by making her walk around the house. I had read about neuroplasticity and practised standing and walking with her every day. As I found out later, my mother chose not to even stand up for more than a minute after I was gone.

When three caregivers were hired, my father asked me to move out of their house. I found an expensive place near UBC to stay. I would commute back and forth every day. As the months passed, I increasingly felt that my role had shifted from daughter to employee. The emotional distance hurt far more than the physical exhaustion. The caregiving expenses added up quickly so the professional caregivers were dismissed and they were replaced with just one elderly helper who was paid at minimum wage.

By the end of August, my mother became more independent and no longer required 24/7 care. I was told that I could travel overseas again. My original plan was to circle the African continent. However, Ebola was still rampant in West Africa. I did not want to spread the disease, so I limited my route to just the Eastern and southern parts.

My journey started in Nairobi, Kenya. Unfortunately, I was unable to witness the wildebeest migration. I shifted southwards to Tanzania but did not linger, moving on to Zambia after an overnight stay. I tried signing up for a safari but could not find that I liked. I visited Lusaka and Livingstone. Victoria Falls was in its driest period.

After Zambia, I went to Namibia and was based in Windhoek. Tourism was more developed here, possibly because of the high concentrations of expats there. They operate tours, safaris, hostels and guesthouses. I signed up for two back-to-back tours. My visit to Etosha Park was particularly memorable because it was the first time I saw the Big 5 in their natural habitat. After the tours, I went south and stayed in Luderitz for a couple of days before entering into South Africa.

My focus shifted to the cities and culture in South Africa. Apartheid was still very much the main tourism theme. My favourite city is a toss-up between Cape Town and Durban. I met some very interesting locals in those cities. From South Africa, I headed north to Botswana where I joined several tours and safaris. Botswana is my favourite country in continental Africa because the animals can roam anywhere they want. Tents seemed to be the only kind of tourist accommodation in Botswana. How unusual!

Zimbabwe was my next destination. Though Zimbabwe has been suffering from hyperinflation for many years, Zimbabweans are a spirited bunch. I made friends with several locals. I encountered history that I did not expect from a developing country. Great Zimbabwe was indeed great!

My next country was Mozambique. The country is very polarized in terms of personal wealth. My intention was to visit Mozambique Island after visiting its capital city in the South and possibly reaching Tanzania by New Year’s Eve. Things took a turn for the worse, I was robbed in Quelimane, a coastal town halfway from Maputo to Pemba. I was surviving in a relatively small city at the mercy of immigration officers and with the kindness of locals and missionaries. I came face-to-face with extreme poverty. I found myself on the receiving end. I had a spiritual transformation subsequently. Months later I wrote about my experiences in Mozambique in a mini eBook titled “My Spiritual Transformation in Mozambique”.

Looking back, I now understand why this annual reflection went missing for so many years. The memories of Africa remained vivid, but the memories of caregiving were intertwined with feelings of loneliness, misunderstanding, and sacrifice. Yet both experiences taught the same lesson. At home, I learned how difficult it is to care for someone who has lost their independence. In Mozambique, I learned how difficult it is to be the person who depends on others.