Skip to main content

Transitions

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.



Popular posts from this blog

"Bland" American Food

Here in Liberia, more than I've ever experienced, people talk about America. The linked history these two nations share creates an intriguing dynamic. Many people go to America to study, to buy a house, to find a job, to visit family, or simply to see the place. And this is normal. Now, across the globe everyone eats right? Food brings us all together across cultural, socioeconomic, and geographical barriers. I often get the question from people curious about America and wanting to travel there, 'what do Americans eat?' In Liberia, people eat rice every single day. It is their staple food, and they cannot go without it. (They also ask me if there is rice in America.) Sometimes I answer by going into descriptive detail when explaining that Americans don't necessarily have a “staple” or traditional food and that our food culture tends to reflect our varied melting pot society and geographically diverse environments. The ones who have visited the State...

Where the hell am I?

Reverse culture shock. You don’t think it will actually happen. But then it creeps up on you. Going from Malawi, even the capital in Malawi, to Cape Town, South Africa has been like going from zero to 10,000. There are so many choices at the grocery store, so many expensive cars and pothole-less roads, so many smartphones, and so many women wearing trousers and leggings all around. The skyscrapers are enormously tall and construction of new ones is happening with massive mechanical machines. People rush around with headphones in, completely tuned out of the world and their surroundings. Shops are chock-full of material goods, all set up enticingly, and restaurants have so many food options. People are a beautiful blend of mixed races and cultures. There are wide sidewalks, pedestrian crosswalks, and stoplights. The produce and meats at the grocery store are all wrapped up in plastic. I feel so lost and over stimulated. What happened to my simple, village life? ...

Moving to the Big City

April is coming to a close, and I need to do another update on my life. A whooooole lot changed this month, but the biggest changes were my location, my job, and my health. Last month in March, a bunch of emotional things happened. Two of my closest friends left Liberia, dry season heat was at its peak and making me miserable, and the lack of work at my site was reaching a tipping point. I thought long and hard about my options. My favorite little 9 month old is almost walking I felt torn. I didn’t really want to leave Liberia, but I also wasn’t sure how much more of my situation I could emotionally handle. I felt like I’d lost control over every aspect of my life; my well-being, privacy, daily routine, and happiness all felt dependent on my environment and the people around me. I tried not to stress about this realization, but I also felt like I’d reached an inescapable and unhealthy place. Thankfully, things sort of fell into place all at once. As I was...