An Ode to Pasikala a Kilifi

an ode to pasikala a kilifi…

everyday i ride you home
no longer do i moan and groan
you carry my burden, you ease my pain
therefore i will not complain
the helmet’s dorky, the exercise is rough
but my dear bicycle you save my duff

The verse printed above functions at multiple literary levels:

1) light-hearted tribute to E.E. Cummings and his well-known aversion to capital letters
2) self-effacing acknowledgment that I never have been and never will be a poet
3) genuine and heart-felt appreciation for my rusty, two-wheeled savior

Lest you think I’m exaggerating, January’s bicycle purchase has radically altered my experience of Tonga. The hip pains that plagued our first six months in country have slowly grown worse, making constant walking difficult and therefore making daily life slightly complicated. Our lovely little home is a ten minute walk from the Peace Corps office and a fifteen minute walk from the Youth Office. We were walking approximately one hour a day upon first arriving in Vava’u, leaving me sore before the workday even started, negative before even appreciating Tonga’s beauty, and persistently seeking creative methods for avoiding travel. I’m happy to report that things have changed.

Having seen me endure daily pain and hobble occasionally, a nearby Peace Corps volunteer and dear friend concluded that I needed his bike more than he needed his bike. Even though his Peace Corps service ends in March, he’s going bikeless and saving me. What does having a bike for daily commutes and transport mean? It means energy at the outset of every single workday. It means looking for opportunities to explore our island instead of looking for opportunities to avoid physical exertion. It means feeling independent and physically capable again. It means much more than any cheesy poem could ever possibly express.

One of my doctors in Washington D.C. was a young and athletic guy who had recently undergone total hip replacement. He’d run a few too many marathons, and he feared his active lifestyle would suffer following surgery. Quite to the contrary, he assured me there was hope. He now bikes 300 miles a week, and the near-constant pain he formerly endured has disappeared. I’ve got a couple years before that kind of idyllic existence becomes a reality, and for now that means dealing with daily pain. However, thanks to my bicycle I’m enjoying being here more than ever before and I’m seeing things for the first time that I’d walked by everyday. I gotta say this island’s a pretty incredible place to call home, and if you’re interested in visiting we could always take a bike ride together.

Cliff