Today’s guest post comes from Hannah Starkey of Thought and Musing. Hannah is an Australian (which means I could be fascinated by listening to her accent for hours) living in Tonga (which means she has a far better grasp on geography than I do), and her post here is a tender reminder that real-life connection matters more than you might think in this virtual age. –Tamára
(I am continuing to share a guest post once a week as I’m busy editing What a Woman is Worth. If you’d like to submit one, please see my guidelines here.)
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Until this morning, I had no idea where my dad was.
“At sea” was all I knew. Literally, at sea. Somewhere floating around in a ship on the ocean. Fridays are laundry day. Thursdays, tuna salad for lunch.
I had cunningly managed to decipher through clues and time differences where I suspected he was, but even then, I was forbidden from typing this presumed location into Facebook chat. I settled for imagining him to be somewhere between Athens and Helsinki. He was in neither.
This morning, it turns out he was in Bahrain, which I had to Google and discovered is not part of Afghanistan as I previously thought. And since operational security has been temporarily relaxed, my lost dad appeared in my Facebook feed. Outside a mosque in the Middle East, clad in his well-worn Akubra hat. I typed my reminder to buy my souvenir in tears. Please buy me some sparkly shoes, I sobbed.
It’s a new obsession, hunting for my dad’s location– an updated version of “Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?” At home we go weeks without catching up yet we live only 20 minutes apart. Each doing our own thing. My dad no longer holds my hand when I cross the road. I’m ‘effin 25 years old. I’m a married lady.
My little brother has become an adult in the time I’ve been in Tonga. “I haven’t emailed because nothing has happened,” he said. “Nothing” involves not being little anymore. He finished university and is interviewing for his first full-time job and even moved out of home, albeit temporarily due to house sitting. He now empties the dishwasher.
My little sister and I have been email-dreaming of her future wedding. And as she somewhat rudely pointed out to me, she’s 19. Will I stop calling her my little sis?
I’ve fallen of the edge of the map. I feel disconnected from family on this tropical island which should be impossible. There is the immediacy of Facebook and Skype and blogs and email and online chat, I’m told. It will be like you never even left.
But I did leave. I’m the outsider viewing their lives through the firmly closed window. I’m disconnected in the Facebook age.
“Your call cannot be placed to this service. Please check the number and try again.”
It should be no surprise that my house is a black spot for Tongan telecommunications. There is something poetic in getting more reception from a whale-watching boat than in my lounge room. I’m not sure what that poem is, though. It would be sad. Perhaps haiku.
This is the year of leaving and being left behind.
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Hannah Starkey is a social worker and blogger, who lives with her husband and puppy in Tonga. Originally from Australia, Hannah has come to appreciate what “island time” truly means. When she is not relaxing on a beach or wearing large woven mats to royal funerals, she is teaching basic social work skills with Tongan NGOs and working out what being a missionary involves.
Visit Hannah at her blog, Thought and Musing!
As great as social media and technology is, nothing replaces a good face to face conversation with our loved ones. I’m headed to my hometown in a couple of weeks and I cannot wait to catch up and see their facial expressions and laugh and maybe even cry together. I changed the game by moving out of state and it’s been an interesting transition with all my relationships back home. Little by little, we’re figuring out this new dance.
While our case is less dramatic, my husband and I live far from our families too, and far from many of our dearest friends. Thanks for painting the real picture of how hard that can be.
Yeah, I get this one. Nearly 50 years ago, we spent two years living 14,000 miles from home. We were newlyweds when we arrived there and parents when we returned. Most of our life was wonderful, happy and rich. But …. there was no internet. No telephone connection to where we were. So we relied on snail mail – 2 weeks turnaround time. Nothing is quite the same as person-to-person contact. But voice-to-voice helps a whole heckuva lot. Hang in – it won’t be forever. And the memories are terrific.
Thank you everyone for your support! It’s interesting – this was a post I submitted to Tamara many months ago and it’s been wonderful to reflect back on how things have evolved over our time in Tonga. Things have gotten a little easier (with making firm friends and finally feeling at home) and some days still make me miss Sydney like crazy.
Hannah – I so get this. We lived in Pakistan and Egypt for a total of 10 years. I now have a daughter in Egypt, brother in Kazakhstan, good friends in Afghanistan, a son in Los Angeles, another in Chicago, and I sit in Boston. No matter technology, that face to face matters so much! Great post.
Hannah, I’m an American living in China and back in the States for a few weeks. I’m at the beach this week with my parents, sisters, and their families. I SO GET THIS. I’m grateful for the ways I’m able to keep up with them that didn’t used to exist (so grateful), but holding giggling girls, walking the beach with my sisters, and just sitting and thinking, so grateful for this too
. Thanks for the post!