In which she comes to an understanding with herself…

In which she comes to an understanding with herself…

The other night I sat on my clean sheets, a feat which in itself took an entire morning worth of effort after I realized that the line in my yard was only big enough to hold one, and had to improvise another line to dry the bottom sheet. I had cleaned the hut I live in, incense was burning. I had had a really nice dinner with friends, beef with fresh ginger and garlic on Simon’s veranda watching the sunset over the delta. I had heated up an extra kettle full of water and had a lengthy bucket bath (which in itself is a bit of an oxymoron) and used my nice lotions on my feet and hands. I was now relaxing in my home in my bed with a cup of tea and a book.

I received a call from the states; my friend spoke about all that is happening in Minneapolis, and asked if I missed life there. I immediately said yes, but as I said it, I was thinking about whether I would have rather been doing those things in Minneapolis today or the things I had done here in Seronga? I was suddenly aware I might be doing nearly the same activities in Minneapolis if I were there. I might be doing similar activities, but the exact experience I had today is only available here. I realized I wouldn’t trade this day. I missed those things about Minneapolis, but the feeling lacked a certain longing that has been a hallmark of my homesickness, and my inability to completely adjust and accept life here. Today I felt content. It surprised me when I recognized this.
I have finally arrived home in this place. The good has snuck up on me, as only good can, and instead of fighting and actively struggling against all the craziness and frustration of this place, I have surrendered to the simplicity life here has to offer. I am existing comfortably. I realized I am beginning to enjoy my own company, and being the sole occupier of the space I’ve been allotted. This is the first time I’ve truly lived alone. It’s always been a strange and somewhat frightening concept to me, but I find now that I look forward to the end of the day. I’ll hope for water and I’ll light candles in my bathroom by which to bucket bathe and decide which of my t-shirts smells the least, and crawl into my bed with my headlamp and a book.
A friend back home had given my contact info to a woman who is about to join the Peace Corps, leaving in a little less than a month. She had a few questions for me, and as I thought back on the last nearly four months I was completely blown away by how far I’ve come. I remembered the nervousness, excitement and the anxiety, and the constant up and down of preparing to leave one life for another completely. I considered the series of moments when I knowingly jumped into the great abyss of the unknown. I reflected on the advice I’d received, and the advice I would give, the places I’ve triumphed and the few I would have done differently. I breathed in, I breathed out. I was reminded again that I am breathing, each day, despite the hours that go by that feel like I’ve been holding my breath, or I can’t find the air through the sobs of frustration or anger or fear.
I’ve recently corresponded with a few people who have had their Peace Corps service interrupted or terminated. I’m actively worried about the safety of another close friend serving right now. In each case it has been something major that has happened to interrupt this experience for these people, major life changing or country of service changing events, the kind that make you re-evaluate things.
Although their personal well being in relation to themselves is foremost in my mind, it’s followed immediately by, “Oh wow, how hard would it be to have to leave a Peace Corps experience? What would I do if I had to leave here now for any reason?”
The thought, while not terrifying, rings more true perhaps as devastating. I think I’m learning to have less fear about what each day can bring in general, but the thought of leaving is pretty upsetting, or at least unsettling. I’m finding that not only would I stay here willingly; I would be upset if I had to leave. When did this change? When did these little rays of sunshine begin to poke their heads into what I’ve come to consider my funny little nightmare?
We chatted a while, and my friend asked me if I would have done anything differently, knowing all that I know now. Would I do it all again? I answered, without hesitation, yes.