As thrilling and adventurous as my
life may seem from the outside, sometimes it’s just downright hard. This past
week tested and tried me—It was probably one of the most difficult of my
service. Yet I still can’t seem to figure out why…
Transitions are always difficult;
change often goes against human nature. We get comfortable in a lifestyle, and
we can become resistant to change. I have become as comfortable as I can
possibly be in the village—as someone who grew up with so many luxuries, it
will always be challenging in times of discomfort to not crave things like a comfy couch, a hug from a friend, a good
movie, a glass of wine, being able to call a friend without worrying about a
dwindling phone battery and network issues, etc. But anyway, back to the point,
transitions. I’ve now gone through the COS (Close of Service) conference for my
two year Peace Corps experience and am looking to the future. Correction, I’m anxious and stressed
about the future. As much as I want to continue exploring the world and in
doing so, exploring myself, it’s also a scary thought. I crave this idea of
going into an extended trip, traveling across Africa, not making plans ahead of
time, and just going with what life gives me. I want to feel the flow of life
and not have to worry about deadlines and flights and where I’m going next. I
want to meet new people, have deep conversations about life and our purpose in
it, dance until the sun comes up, appreciate the beauty of everyday life in
different cultures, try new foods, take tons of photographs, be alone and learn
to love it, experience different work environments, see sunsets and sunrises
from a million different viewpoints, run through new places, reinvent myself
time and time again, and build up a stockpile of enchanting stories to tell my
friends, family, and whoever else will listen.
As dreamy
as this all sounds, I’m almost certain that it will also be an emotional roller
coaster. After scouring the internet for solo traveler blogs and tips, I’ve
read countless stories about how lonely the traveling lifestyle can be. It
requires someone who is incredibly strong emotionally and has a vision or
dream. I remember my first time traveling alone, in 2012 to Nepal when I was
studying abroad. I think I cried nearly every day. I was self-conscious and so
stuck in fear of what others thought of me that I missed out on a lot of unique
experiences. Peace Corps has forced me to face these fears, as I’m always being
watched and studied in the village like I’m a zoo animal. I’d be lying if I
said I’m over them, that I never have days when I hole myself up in my house
not wanting to face the world engulfing me from all directions. No, I’m not
over them, but I’m working to overcome them. This trip I have in mind is a test.
I want to see how much I’ve grown and if I can handle spending so much time on
my own without a nearby support system and safety net that I can run to in
times of need (like I’ve had during Peace Corps). In the end, aren’t we all
alone in this life anyway? Not to be depressing or anything, but you don’t die
with your loved one….unless you’re watching the Notebook.
So, I guess
my struggle this week must have been the result of a combination of things.
Anxiety about my future (especially monetary) and the typical Peace Corps break
down.
A Peace Corps breakdown happens
during times of stagnancy when you’re busy meeting with people and groups and
trying to plan projects, but there’s no action yet. It’s the most infuriating
thing I’ve experienced as an impatient person who prefers to DO rather than to
PREPARE. However, this time of the year in the village is chaotic. It’s “rainy” season (even though we’re experiencing a
drought like no other and also scorchingly hot days), so tea is growing like a
weed and people are plucking and selling tea to the surrounding tea estates.
It’s also chimanga (maize) and zimbe (sugarcane) growing season, so
people are busy in their gardens growing maize for nsima to use for the whole next year and sugarcane to sell and make
money. With the lack of rain though,
peoples’ maize crops are dying meaning so many people are desperate for food
and so many people are dying of starvation. I’ve only been here for two years,
so I don’t have much to compare it to, but on the radio they’re saying its one
of the worst situations that Malawi has ever experienced. Right now, over 3
million people are starving (we have over 17 million people in this tiny
country, remember), and it’s expected to get worse as maize shortages cripple
the economy. The currency, kwacha, has depreciated a ridiculous amount (from
mk350 when I arrived to mk750 to the dollar right now) and people are
struggling to say the least.
Seeing and hearing about all this contributes
to the feeling of helplessness I’ve felt recently. In fact, it makes me feel downright
guilty for being upset that people aren’t coming to my programs (my, meaning me and my counterparts). It’s
true—attendance has sharply declined in terms of village meetings and trainings
recently. People are working at the tea estates, family gardens need watering
and weeding, drinking water must be drawn from the springs since the village
taps are out, and the heat just saps your energy. But when I talk to my village
friends/counterparts, they tell me, ‘No, people are just being lazy. They have
time.’ So what am I to think? It’s creates this inner dialogue and conflict
putting me at tipping point where I don’t know what to believe anymore.
My job here in Malawi is simply to
help. I came for the adventure, sure, but also because I feel it’s my civic
duty as a global citizen to assist others where I can. But as the age old
saying goes, “You can take a horse to the river, but you can’t force it to
drink.” Encouraging behavior change is probably one of the most frustrating
jobs out there. I used to think that working in a developing country and
teaching people about nutrition and sanitation and malaria prevention would be
so much easier than working with the obesity epidemic in America. I thought I
would make so much more change. But what I’m realizing during this experience
is that anywhere in the world has its own set of problems and barriers that
prohibit behavior change. Otherwise people would be living happily and
healthfully. We can educate and give incentives and talk about the consequences
of negative behavior, but in the end, we’re all humans and we’re all prone to
error and some are even drawn to defiance. Development work will never be easy
and will never be 100%.
I have
remind myself, usually daily, that I might not make a difference in my whole
community, but I need to remember the small victories…
The fact that my neighbor’s vegetable stand now sells
garlic, which used to be a completely foreign item in our community.
…that at least nine students now know how vast Earth is and
where their country and community fits into it.
..that over 50 girls in our village now have reusable
sanitary pads and at least know a little more about HIV prevention.
..that four different groups now know how to make peanut
butter from scratch.
…that at least two people have jobs now as a result of going
through a development/skills building training.
..that my neighbor’s child is named after my nephew.
..that these isolated rural people know a little more about
American culture and have been able to meet so many azungus since the first one moved in two years ago.