Back in September I attended a Peace Corps sponsored meeting of the minds otherwise known as training and it became startlingly clear to me both the changes in myself and my fellow crazies (volunteers).
The first came when my roommates A and C saw what looked to me like a bug jr running across the floor of the motel room I came to think of as paradise with both air conditioning AND hot running water. I barely noticed the thing, and when I did, I nonchalantly killed the bug, not completely putting two and two together that the girls were scared of it until I looked up and saw that they themselves had skittered to the other side of the room. In Seronga, I’ve developed a policy that if it’s not the size of my palm I generally let it live. I simply do not have the time to attempt to exterminate every little thing living in my house with more than two legs as the Peace Corps doesn’t seem to think that killing bugs can be counted as sustainable development on a PEPFAR report. I looked over from the dead bug to them, sort of cocked my head in confusion and we went about our day.
The next indicator that I had been in the bush too long was when I caught a glance of myself in the full length mirror, and spent altogether too much time staring. I realized that perhaps it wasn’t just my inability to properly wash my clothes thus causing them to stretch out that had made them fit more loosely. Being able to truly see myself for the first time in two months made it clear that I had lost weight. Being in a place that served three meals a day was enough to begin to counteract the weight loss, and I decided to help it along. And so I began another of my "out of Africa" behaviors, which was eating as much “nearly ice cream” as they would feed us at the lodge. It was pretty easy to procure, and I would often eat the bowls given to my friends as well as my own. Ice cream wasn’t as terribly exciting for them as many can get better ice cream than this shit in their villages. So I would often eat two to three bowls of the stuff a day, and for the first time since high school, didn’t give a damn about the calories. I found myself overloading my plate with food strictly because it was there, not necessarily because it was good (although I kept raving about it.) It’s probably a good thing, as I gained back between five and seven pounds in the ten days I was there- it was like being on a cruise!
Later in the evening, I was surprised and astounded when everyone began to bring out their "clubbing clothes" and make-up to have a dance party night for one of the fellow volunteers birthday parties. Sure I remember clubs, but it has been ages since I actually remembered that they could be created with a bit of alcohol and someone’s ipod if desperation and the mood were to strike. As I hadn’t planned on any of these clubbing situations to occur, I hadn’t brought anything of this caliber. Makeup has nearly become a thing of the past, really my clothes would have never passed muster at any club I’ve ever been to anyways. I was going to have to pinch hit. I did so by borrowing a male PCV's shirt and tie (again, who HAS this stuff), threw on my trademark hat, and rocked the androgynous look for the evening. If I wasn’t going to be a hot girl than I suppose I would settle for a charmingly girlish looking boy. In the pictures I ended up looking like a "Newsie" (or as my sister said- Oliver Twist, ah musicals.) It was a fun night, although I would imagine they are bumping a little more recent music than 80’s bands and the stuff from Usher’s LAST cd…
I was also surprised how little irritation I experienced in living in one room for ten days with two other people, sharing a bathroom, a thermostat, a television, a door that wouldn’t stay shut unless it was locked, and a bedtime. In college I would get beyond irritated after a certain point in the night when it became clear that my room, or house or dorm floor had been designated the party room. Namely after I wanted to go to sleep, or if I had an early class that I really had the best of intentions of attending the next morning. It would send me into a rage when I would open my bedroom door to have to step over a body to get to the bathroom. I was often a bit of a bitch, and occasionally a huge party pooper. At Peace Corps In Service Training I lived in the designated party (or at least “Socializer”) room. Oh if those poor former roommates could see me now!
At one point during training we had all 27 of our training group in our room for a loud music- broken glass-muddy floors party and I joyfully helped hang up the toilet paper streamers. I happily woke up an hour before our wake up call to help clean the mud and broken glass off the floor. I guess after the solitude of Seronga, and the patience I’ve developed as a result of nothing ever happening the way I think it could or should, I’ve become more tolerant, and a bit more willing to live and let live. I owe the entirety of Section K and those who I lived with afterward a big hell yeah. I have seen the light. Or I’m just desperate. Whichever.
The next day I was again brought to the realization of what a “savage” I've become when A saw me exiting the bathroom… and throwing all of my laundry in the bathwater I had just exited. She yelped "Jen, are you reusing your bathwater to do your laundry? You don't gotta do that shit anymore, you're not in Seronga! You can have more clean water, it’s not going to go out, this is Kanye!" She gave me a small bottle of detergent and I was genuinely surprised to take in the familiar scent and color of liquid Tide. My eyes welled up with tears at the sight of liquid laundry detergent. Bizarre.
My other roommate C was repeatedly disgusted by the yogurt I kept insisting I was going to eat despite being out of refrigeration for three + days (and as I don't recall ever getting around to eating it I would imagine she eventually threw it away). I repeatedly found my standards of what was “good food” to be comparatively low when I kept raving about how great the food was (because it was there.) I would go to town and eat just a brick of cheese or a bar of chocolate. My fellow volunteers often just woefully shook their heads at me. I never bothered to defend my newfound weirdness.
Throughout the course of the week I noticed other things I’ve come to think of as changes from the person I can vaguely remember being. I found too much music, or television, or air-conditioning to be unbearable or at least uncomfortable and distracting. I often had to wander away from large groups (which I used to adore being in the center of) because they overwhelmed me. I also found myself reticent to walk away from conversations with individuals, ever, as I wanted so badly to keep talking. We watched an entire season of Sex and the City while we were there and I found even this to be nearly an overload, which is strange, because this used to be a normal weekend activity.
The restrooms outside the room where we were having trainings had two stalls. I always just went into the first one as it always seemed to have toilet paper, which continuously surprised me. It was always open, and occasionally someone would be standing and waiting for the other stall and motioned for me to go ahead if I wanted to use the first one. It took me a week to realize that no one was using the first stall because it had no toilet seat. I am used to hovering always in Seronga as having a toilet seat is the exception rather than the rule that side. I was just impressed that the stall always seemed to have toilet paper!
Overall it was a good week, and the time soon came to step back through the looking glass and head over the rainbow to Seronga.
I wasn’t quite ready to leave all my friends, and chocolate, and face the 10 hour bus ride to Maun. While I found that in general we were all much calmer than the sometimes hysterical head cases we had been during PST, I myself occasionally felt more angsty when I thought of heading home. Leaving everyone was different this time, as I knew more intimately what I was heading back to, and I realized how much more than before I would miss them without another scheduled, sanctioned activity planned for us the next two months. The next time I will see most of these people is in a few months at Thanksgiving.
I left Kanye kind of anxious to get back to site, and to get away from all the sensory overload that training had provided, but also hesitant to leave so much familiarity convenience and comfort. The 10 days had made me realize that now not only was I living a life that was so different and indescribable to my family and friends in the US, it was also getting more difficult to relate to my friends that were in the same country as me. I felt alone, and sort of isolated in my experience, but I found I was also craving that solitude. I realized again that grass is always greener, and wondered if I’ll ever be able to truly BE where I am…And where is Kansas, anyways?
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