Although my world has been amazingly expanded by the steep and constant learning curve that is living in Seronga, it has been hard here. For reasons I didn’t anticipate. But then I guess if you could foresee the lesson plan of your life and the way in which the tests would be administered, you’d be much less likely to take the classes offered. (And you certainly wouldn’t join the f-ing Peace Corps!!)
After one of the more depressing weeks on record, thanks to a one two punch from the larium I’m required to take as a malaria prophylaxis (nightmares and scary hallucinations, I thought there was things and people in my room, bed space ect. and slept very little for three nights in a row) and my period, I was a weepy, emotional mess. The honeymoon of being at site wore off quickly.
At my lowest points, which can always be argued may simultaneously be my highest; I realized that I usually don’t feel this despondent unless I’ve had a major relationship fail. I cheered myself slightly be realizing that I need no man to help me to the depths of this kind of misery, which was strangely comforting. I can achieve copious amounts of melancholy by and for myself, as a result of my choices alone, rather than as a result of two people flinging themselves at the windshield of life and hoping for the best and failing. When you’re depressed strange things are enlightening.
Being in the mind-fuck that is living in a foreign country in a pretty alone kind of way, the me that I used to be questioned if I was just having a good old fashioned pity party. Doubt became my closest and constant companion. I struggled to determine if I was being unreasonable in these thought patterns that emerged from the sludge of the darkness in my mind; of wondering if I could really do two years here. I mean come on, I joined the Peace Corps to learn about myself, and learn to be self sufficient, independent, have adventures, which is exactly what was happening. So what was my problem?
There wasn’t a problem. I was just sad. And scared. And lonely. And somewhat bored. And pretty annoyed. A little bit stressed. Overridingly confused. These conditions cease to be problems when you begin to accept them as your reality. And realize that they will inevitably pass.
Sometimes I get caught in a web of trying to be this perfect version of myself, who is always self confident and certain of herself and her decisions. I’m harder on myself than I would be on anyone else, and in this instance wasn’t giving myself a break in realizing that although yes, there are plenty of people who live like this every day, and who have their whole lives, I am not one of them. Going without reliable electricity, no hot running water ever, and random running water at all and never being drinkable are things that might take a little getting used to. It’s hard on anyone being in a new place, much less one so different in every major way.
I come from a people who are by nature highly inquisitive, and to put it kindly, need to have constant reason for everything. I learned there is a major difference between making excuses for something and gracefully accepting your reality for what it is and moving forward. Rather than being a weakness to acknowledge the difficulties at hand for what they are, to give them credence in turn alleviates some of the power they hold.
In a place like Seronga, of so much want and need, it’s an interesting canvas from which to paint my own personal picture of these concepts and how they apply in my life. There is a difference between wanting people and needing people around, and there is a difference between giving and taking. Independence, interdependence and dependence are also different, and in this place it’s a little easier to get quiet enough to learn the subtle nuance. I am indeed learning the lessons I came here to learn, they’re just literally in different languages and shades of light and color than I expected.
I got through this past week, and now am more assured I will continue to do so, quite possibly for the next two years. I am very lucky to have great people. When I found myself unexpectedly crying I was often blessed to get a call from one of the fine people who care about me, or a piece of mail or a package. Kagiso, the Peace Corps volunteer who served in Seronga directly before me has taken to checking up on me, and his words mean so much in a way no one else’s on Earth possibly can, as he’s truly “been here.” Simon the British ex patriot has been absolutely essential. I also found comfort in listening to this song by Ingrid Michaelson over and over
“Keep Breathing”
The storm is coming, but I, don’t mind,
People are dying, I close my blinds
All that I know,
Is
I’m breathing now.
I want,
to change the world,
Instead, I sleep.
I want,
to believe,
in more, than you and me
All that I know is I’m breathing,
All I can do is keep breathing,
Now
All we can do is keep breathing
Sometimes, it’s enough to just be. The world will still need saving tomorrow. And I’ll still be in this place, where I have so many prime opportunities to work on that little task.
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