"When volunteers start, their minds are wrapped around a thousand different words for help, empower, assist, aid, facilitate, uplift. Yet no idea how to use them in a sentence, let alone in life.
Yes, we open borders, but more importantly, minds and hearts. Wining them, earning them, with the skills of our training and the purity of our efforts.
...never will you feel more alive. It will surprise you. It is a progression of connection.
At first, you are in your head, and it's American meets Other. Then, you get more grounded, and volunteer meets villager or teacher meets student. And then, if you are lucky, the simplicity settles in, and it's human meets human. Heart to heart.
It's all right there.
It's tucked into the humble corners of each day. Two years will fly by.
Watch carefully, or you might miss it.
Blink twice,
and it's gone."
- 50 Years of Peace Corps: A Message for Soon to Be Volunteers by Meleia Egger (transcription and emphasis created by Laura Bach)
One year into service. One year of my life living and working in Uganda, in Africa. In this place I came to convinced would be over 100 degrees every day and covered in a perpetual cloud of ravenous mosquitos. 1 year of realizing that basically everything I thought about "Africa" was wrong.
Despite the incredible amount of thought that has gone into reflecting on my time here, time to get it in digital form has "not been there" as my Ugandan teachers would say. These past few months have been hectic to say the least. I was selected to help train the incoming volunteers and spent Halloween through Christmas training away. This was draining, but it was pretty incredible to realize how far I had come since my training a year ago. I realized much my relationships with the Ugandan Peace Corps staff and Ugandans in general had developed. I appreciated how comfortable I was finding my way through Kampala. How self-assured I was in my ability to teach in a Ugandan classroom. I realized I had somehow mastered the dress code and developed effective coping strategies for rebuffing harassment and making time for self-care. Perhaps most surprising and simple of all was simply the sheer confidence and ease that had slowly, unknowingly, been built from days and days and days of just existing in my community.
In addition to training, I was also applying to law schools. I've sent applications to 5 law schools and I look forward to hearing back from them sometime in March. When I've reached a final decision, I shall update anyone interested here.
And, as soon as training ended, my sister came to visit for several weeks! I dropped her off recently, and I wrote this post soon after leaving her at the airport. I think a separate post will come that reflects on what I feel I've learned during my time here, but this focuses on perhaps an exhausted, though I think essential, topic: the pride of being here, and the pull to go home. I hope you enjoy! Also, feel free to enjoy the new album which as some pictures from Halloween - Now!
I recently dropped my sister off at the airport after she visited for two weeks. Though I was excited to see a familiar face again, I wasn't quite sure how the trip would go. It's uncanny to mesh two completely disparate pieces of your world. Furthermore, I had just finished 6 weeks of training the newest group of Peace Corps Uganda education volunteers and I was exhausted, both mentally and emotionally. Despite how much I had been missing my sister, my best friend, nothing sounded better on that last day of training than going back to my site and sleeping for a week. The ultimate excursion into hermitude.
I feel that my sister's first impression, unfortunately, did suffer a bit from my lethargy… and from a horrible case of the flu that I contracted soon after her arrival. Nevertheless, sitting here in a cafe after hugging her goodbye at the airport, I can say that nothing was better, or harder, for me than to have two wonderful weeks with Lizzie by my side.
Experiencing my country of service with a familiar face from home was hard almost because it was wonderful. Lizzie is a being of light, energy, and laughter. During her stay, she radiated joy and committed to finding happiness in every situation into which she was thrown . Long bus rides became times to sample street food for the first time again (and she sampled meat! Pretty risky on a 9-hour bus ride). Down time, lazy mornings, and sleepy afternoons became socially fulfilling events with her in the room next to mine. Hikes (which I shamefully almost never do) happened, and were adventures. Pool days became well-earned vacation and girl time. Bachelorrette marathons were space to gossip and gamble. New Years and white water rafting were a blast. Introducing her to my fellow PCVs, my weird and wonderful in-country substitute family, was a worlds'-collide experience colored with immense pride at taking stock of the people who fill my life.
And, precisely because each day was wonderful, I realized with a painful vividness both how wonderful Uganda is, and what I had been, and will continue to, give up by being here.
In regards to the latter, I reflected that I was missing two years with my best friend. With my family. With the people I love back at home. And I began missing more than just people, I began thinking of comforts I thought I'd be beyond wanting by now:
sipping a hot drink near a warm fire on a snowy day;
going to a bar with girlfriends and not constantly checking myself for cultural improprieties;
going out with girlfriends at all for that matter;
being able to leave my house, wearing whatever I want, and not wondering what my neighbors think about me or whether I'm offending everyone inadvertently with something I'm doing, or not doing, or both;
knowing, wherever I am, that running water, a hot shower, Western toilet, and laundry machine will be an expectation -- not a luxury;
driving a car;
playing the piano;
speaking the same language as those around me;
not being under a constant microscope and fetishized because of my skin color;
holidays and special events with the people I love most;
substituting the sounds of small children, religious crusades, and raging nightclubs with the blissfully familiar sounds of traffic;
fast food. #GiveMeMcDonaldsOrGiveMeDeath
Sending my sister off to Italy, I wrested again, as I have countless times before, if I am prepared to continue with this experience. I think, somewhat enviously, of those who have already returned to the luxuries I previously took for granted. I contemplate seriously that with one visit to Kampala, one email, one phone call, I could join them. In 72 hours I could be on a plane home. My law school applications are in, I could start in the fall of 2018 and teach at an LSAT center until then. I could slip back into American life without missing a beat.
Ironically, as I get closer to completing my service the stronger this temptation becomes. To a non-PCV or RPCV, one year in Uganda inspires quite the same reaction as two, and I become increasingly convinced I've accomplished what I came here to accomplish. Despite the tone of the previous paragraphs, I do feel like I've established myself here. I'm confident in myself. I'm comfortable, as much as I expect to be, at my school and in my community. I feel I've learned how to teach in a classroom of 100 pupils. I feel humbled and independent and resilient. I feel I've overcome the challenges I set out to conquer. I feel in many ways like an RPCV already. What else is there to do here? And does it outweigh all that I'm missing at home?
But, as I hugged my sister tightly and thought about going with her, I also thought about leaving Bobby and Allie, my two rocks in Uganda and some of the most important people in my life right now. I thought about abandoning my school halfway through my contract. I thought about telling people, for the rest of my life: "I'm an RPCV*" with an invisible asterisk hanging in the air that only I would see.
I wistfully, begrudgingly, and secretly proudly knew again, as I have come to know countless times before, that I won't leave. Because of the honor of commitment, because of the fear of the repercussions, or because I'm just too stubborn, or prideful, to know better, I know I won't leave. But seeing Lizzie walk through security, going back to everything I miss -- her most of all -- that was undeniably hard.
But luckily, and paradoxically, though her visit did inspire some reminiscing, it also reinvigorated and reaffirmed my decision to serve. Seeing myself through her eyes made me appreciate how much I'd grown in the past 14 months. I surprised myself with my confidence navigating the market place and negotiating prices. I realized how much I knew about Uganda, how much I had learned about the language, culture, and customs. I realized I actually kind of knew what I was doing most of the time. Weird. When did that happen?
And, as we discussed our impending time around, I told her what the future held for me. I became excited thinking about the year to come. I explained all of my mistakes last year and how excited I was thinking about how much better I would be with the new P4 pupils. I outlined all of the upcoming goals and projects I have to start on as soon as she leaves: media projects, volunteer advisory council initiatives, neighborhood vacation planning, law school decisions. And, of course, school, guitar, yoga, writing, cooking, cleaning, and Peace Corps life to juggle. In an inexplicable way, as much as one part of me is ready to be done with Peace Corps, another part feels I have barely started.
My Dad, who did the Peace Corps in the Philippines, always tells me that people think two years is a long time.
"But it's not!" He'll exclaim, exasperated. "It's not! You get there and it takes one year to just figure everything out, and then one year to actually enjoy it."
He's been right about pretty much everything else so far, so I'm looking forward to my year of "enjoying it". Although this year will undoubtedly be hard, and I'll always thoughtfully reflect on the trade-offs I've made in my life by coming here, some elusive piece of who I am knows that there is no place else I am supposed to, or would rather, be. Being here has been the most rewarding experience of my life, and I truthfully have never been prouder of myself.
I could not be more excited for what the next 365 days hold. I never could have imagined what this journey would look like when I set off 14 months ago, a bright-eyed and fresh-faced trainee, and I'm sure I am equally ignorant now as to what is on my horizon.
So, here I sign off: To a year of "enjoying it". To a year of saying: "I have been doing it, and I will continue to do it". And to knowing that when I do fly out, it will be to say "I am an RPCV".
Full stop.
"Blink twice, and it's gone."
