Twenty four months plus have passed as of this writing. Reflecting on it is wild. All that has transpired. All that has changed in my self, attitude, opinions, beliefs, and demeanor. With less than two months to go, I feel like I'm standing in a busy train station staring down the other end at a giant clock. All I hear is the loud and reverberating tick, tick, tick, as the sound waves bounce off the surfaces all around. Trains and people and all sorts of other manners of life are going on around me but in fast forward or slow forward and on mute. Soon my train will come and the clock will fall from it's stand and shatter in slow motion. Then time will move normally again and the sound will start to blaze in full volume. I'll get in that train (plane) that has come to take me away from my Peace Corps chapter of life. And that'll be it. Done. Finished. Sure I can call my host family from the states. I can visit after I have some years and moneys under my belt (after recovering from the two years of not making any earnings). But my days as a PCV in The Gambia will expire and I will place the R at the forefront of PCV and forever look back on it all as a series I've read on a shelf full of other finished books, their stories wearing with time.
It's weird. There aren't many words that I can think of that can effectively communicate how this feels. I don't think I'll know what any of it means until later. And I'm nervous about going home and facing friends and family that I've craved and missed so dearly, and have them not really get it, any of it, either. A lot of it, there just isn't a universal framework for. Unless you've seen or experienced or done it first hand, my words about some of my experiences will be just those, words. Maybe flimsy figments of images and scenes will be generated from the small information about West Africa that exists as common knowledge,but they'll be weak images at best without the first hand experience to support them.
It's bittersweet. On the one hand I am ecstatic and jumping for joy inside. I made it! I did it! Wooooweeeeee! There were countless times I didn't think I was going to or could. From internal to external complications doubts or interruptions. Political strife. Illness. Structural complications at my residence. Fear of Ebola pandemic. Etc. But I did make it, at least up until this point, and it feels amazing. I really do feel ready. I've spent some good time. I've made it as much as I could with what I had. But I am absolutely devastated to say goodbye to the friends and family I've found here.
I'm nervous that the world I'll return to will be full of people glued to their smart phones or ipads, tv's etc. While I've learned to sit still and socialize or sit still and just be, for hours on end. I'm nervous that the go go go pace of the states will be jarring and inharmonious with my own personal beat and rhythm. And I fear hearing insensitive ignorant comments about peoples perception of West Africa.
I'm excited too though. About good and plenty foods. About movies and movie theaters. About cold cheap and tasty beer. About clean and well maintained cities and neighborhoods. About clean feet and hot showers. Bed sheets without dirt or sand or dust. Sleeping without a mosquito net and without the buzz of the mosquito in your ear and the itchy bites that follow. And ending the malaria prophylaxis and nasty vitamin routine. I'm excited about being in temperature controlled environments but also in a way I've enjoyed living in "god's" controlled outdoors, hot as it can get (sometimes into the 130's Fahrenheit).
I'm excited to catch up with friends and family. I'm prepared to filter and limit the number of times I'm allowed to mention Peace Corps and West Africa. I worry I'll be lost in conversations about popular culture. I don't know any new shows or music or movies. Not really. What I do know that seems recent to me is probably fairly dated. I can talk about lots of books though! String theory anyone? Austen?
Current stresses in country aren't really about work anymore. Whatever we can do from here on out would be great but if we don't get anything done that's ok too. I'm more stressed about the souvenirs and gifts and pieces of Gambia to take home with me lest I forget something and regret not having it once I'm stateside and can't get it anymore. Some items I'm thinking of bringing home include and is not limited to:
-local tea pot and tea glasses (attaya set, barada and cass yi)
-local oil container (bidong)
-local tailored African Dress (complet)
-paintings
-tie dye and batik fabric
-locally made hats (beanies)
-locally sold hats (beanies) that are probably made in China
-A prayer mat
-Juju's (Koranic prayers for protection, health, or good luck)
-jewelry (Fula anklets, bracelets, earrings)
-medium sized mortar and pestle
-wooden bowl
-fabric
-other tailored clothes
-fun gifts supporting current PCV community members (will be surprises!)
-bush tea
-local spicy coffee (cafe touba)
-stickers used on the local transport vehicles (gelle imam stickers etc)
-local honey (from BeeCause)
-scarves
-leather key chains
-etc
But for now I can only take it day by day. I try to turn the focus from the giant clock to what's going on around me but it's hard to divert my attention when the clock is so loud.
Re-entry and readjustment doesn't sound fun or easy. I'll be mourning my Peace Corps self and experience. My Gambian and Peace Corps friends and family. But I'll enter into the RPCV world on the other side. I'll find my way back into the life I left just like I found and established a life here. I'll try to adhere to the advise of the RPCV's at my COS conference and be patient and gentle with myself. Taking it easy and not pushing too hard, allowing myself to make mistakes.
The clock's about to fall. I must get ready now. As I stand here, on the other end of service, my entire being is at ease. I am fully comfortable. My heart is full of love for this country and the people that live here. It is fulfilled by the meaningful work we try here and the meaningful relationships we make.
It has adjusted to the beat and pace and rhythm of The Gambia. To the hot hot loud loud slow slow these things. The sunsets and stars and simple foods. The sounds of birds goats chickens donkeys and cows. Children playing. People discussing. Laundry swish swish swishing. It's these fond and beautiful memories which bubble to the surface. The other ones fade away or get lost as they can't fit in such a full and happy heart.
Thank you Gambia. It's been my greatest pleasure. You have been the cause of so much heartbreak and joy. Here's to the final chapter in one of the greatest stories I've ever lived.
It's weird. There aren't many words that I can think of that can effectively communicate how this feels. I don't think I'll know what any of it means until later. And I'm nervous about going home and facing friends and family that I've craved and missed so dearly, and have them not really get it, any of it, either. A lot of it, there just isn't a universal framework for. Unless you've seen or experienced or done it first hand, my words about some of my experiences will be just those, words. Maybe flimsy figments of images and scenes will be generated from the small information about West Africa that exists as common knowledge,but they'll be weak images at best without the first hand experience to support them.
It's bittersweet. On the one hand I am ecstatic and jumping for joy inside. I made it! I did it! Wooooweeeeee! There were countless times I didn't think I was going to or could. From internal to external complications doubts or interruptions. Political strife. Illness. Structural complications at my residence. Fear of Ebola pandemic. Etc. But I did make it, at least up until this point, and it feels amazing. I really do feel ready. I've spent some good time. I've made it as much as I could with what I had. But I am absolutely devastated to say goodbye to the friends and family I've found here.
I'm nervous that the world I'll return to will be full of people glued to their smart phones or ipads, tv's etc. While I've learned to sit still and socialize or sit still and just be, for hours on end. I'm nervous that the go go go pace of the states will be jarring and inharmonious with my own personal beat and rhythm. And I fear hearing insensitive ignorant comments about peoples perception of West Africa.
I'm excited too though. About good and plenty foods. About movies and movie theaters. About cold cheap and tasty beer. About clean and well maintained cities and neighborhoods. About clean feet and hot showers. Bed sheets without dirt or sand or dust. Sleeping without a mosquito net and without the buzz of the mosquito in your ear and the itchy bites that follow. And ending the malaria prophylaxis and nasty vitamin routine. I'm excited about being in temperature controlled environments but also in a way I've enjoyed living in "god's" controlled outdoors, hot as it can get (sometimes into the 130's Fahrenheit).
I'm excited to catch up with friends and family. I'm prepared to filter and limit the number of times I'm allowed to mention Peace Corps and West Africa. I worry I'll be lost in conversations about popular culture. I don't know any new shows or music or movies. Not really. What I do know that seems recent to me is probably fairly dated. I can talk about lots of books though! String theory anyone? Austen?
Current stresses in country aren't really about work anymore. Whatever we can do from here on out would be great but if we don't get anything done that's ok too. I'm more stressed about the souvenirs and gifts and pieces of Gambia to take home with me lest I forget something and regret not having it once I'm stateside and can't get it anymore. Some items I'm thinking of bringing home include and is not limited to:
-local tea pot and tea glasses (attaya set, barada and cass yi)
-local oil container (bidong)
-local tailored African Dress (complet)
-paintings
-tie dye and batik fabric
-locally made hats (beanies)
-locally sold hats (beanies) that are probably made in China
-A prayer mat
-Juju's (Koranic prayers for protection, health, or good luck)
-jewelry (Fula anklets, bracelets, earrings)
-medium sized mortar and pestle
-wooden bowl
-fabric
-other tailored clothes
-fun gifts supporting current PCV community members (will be surprises!)
-bush tea
-local spicy coffee (cafe touba)
-stickers used on the local transport vehicles (gelle imam stickers etc)
-local honey (from BeeCause)
-scarves
-leather key chains
-etc
But for now I can only take it day by day. I try to turn the focus from the giant clock to what's going on around me but it's hard to divert my attention when the clock is so loud.
Re-entry and readjustment doesn't sound fun or easy. I'll be mourning my Peace Corps self and experience. My Gambian and Peace Corps friends and family. But I'll enter into the RPCV world on the other side. I'll find my way back into the life I left just like I found and established a life here. I'll try to adhere to the advise of the RPCV's at my COS conference and be patient and gentle with myself. Taking it easy and not pushing too hard, allowing myself to make mistakes.
The clock's about to fall. I must get ready now. As I stand here, on the other end of service, my entire being is at ease. I am fully comfortable. My heart is full of love for this country and the people that live here. It is fulfilled by the meaningful work we try here and the meaningful relationships we make.
It has adjusted to the beat and pace and rhythm of The Gambia. To the hot hot loud loud slow slow these things. The sunsets and stars and simple foods. The sounds of birds goats chickens donkeys and cows. Children playing. People discussing. Laundry swish swish swishing. It's these fond and beautiful memories which bubble to the surface. The other ones fade away or get lost as they can't fit in such a full and happy heart.
Thank you Gambia. It's been my greatest pleasure. You have been the cause of so much heartbreak and joy. Here's to the final chapter in one of the greatest stories I've ever lived.
