“No volunteer has ever been this far removed.”
I often wonder if my emotions overwhelm me as I start to weep at the end of a trying day. Do other volunteers have the same feelings and doubts running through their heads? Is anyone as deep in the bush as I seem to be? If so, without water or electricity?
“If I that wasn’t my home area, I would cry every night if I lived there.”
I usually chalk it up to my hypersensitive individuality and wish upon a shooting star for thicker skin. Nothing is easy for me, and it hasn’t been for such a long time. Not elementary school, swimming lessons, midterms, nor going to State Street Brats. All brought great strife and sometimes even physical danger. Many said I wasn’t man enough (what does that mean?), tough enough, or smart enough. This experience is no different.
“You don’t have electricity? Aren’t you afraid at night? You live in the middle of the bush.”
Of all the volunteers in my group, the one least likely to end up living in the bush (for so many reasons that you know and need not be discussed) is the one to pioneer the land unknown to Peace Corps. (Literally, my village has yet to see a PC staffer for site inspection or site visit.)
“You should have the nicest house because you’re the most removed volunteer. Instead, you live . . . in that. And it floods.”
After today, I know that all my tears and struggles are justified. My Peace Corps trainer (a Ugandan whose home village is my site) laughed as I showed her pictures of my site. She said many things to assure me that I wasn’t crazy for feeling such a range of emotions on a daily basis.
“They are making it really difficult for you, having to go an hour to town for everything. That is expensive and your village doesn’t understand because they don’t leave, ever.”
I now hold a high amount of pride in myself for the progress I’ve made in the first three months at site. Who thought this would be my life? After in-service training I will return to my bush village with a higher respect for myself and accept the tears as they come knowing that I am strong enough to cry and continue adjusting to my new life. . .
“Everyone at the office asked if I thought you’d be okay, if you’d make it, all the way out there by yourself.”
. . . even if no one else thinks it possible. After all, I’m man enough (whatever it means), tough enough, and smart enough.
3 comments:
Just as life began in Africa, I am sure that your life will bloom with renewed vigor. Its easy to say "don't let it get you down or it will get better" so I won't. I will only say that if you stop worrying about future minutes and start finding joy in the now, you will do just fine. When you feel like crying...cry (has nothing to do with manliness), but then find the laughter because that minute has gone and your life is now. Most people in America has forgotten the times when to use the bathroom, we went outside or used chamber pots, pulled water from a well, killed chickens (oh the stink of chickens in hot water to loosen the feathers), kerosene lamps, candles, going outside in below zero weater to get chunks of coal, but we survived and did just fine. You will also do just fine. You are a pioneer in the land that gave us life. Embrace it, you will be forever changed. Stop yearning for what was and start believing in what is! Your parents should be extremely proud of the person you are!
We (parents) are very proud of our son, Adam. Adam was named after the first man of the earth. I chose biblically; he has lived the message. Adam, you are a man of earth and of God. We were blessed the day you were born. You can do whatever you choose to do in life; you are an extremely successful man. xoxoxoxoxo Mom and Dad
i'm not man enough for state street brats either. i have yet to go there. i miss you more than ever.
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