Under the Milky Way

I’m slowly beginning to adjust to developed world life. I’m getting used to the daily HOT showers, brushing my teeth in a sink, busy sidewalks and roads, and a whole plethora of food and drink options. What still overwhelms me though is walking into a mall or store and the amount of colors, lights, and mirrors coming from all directions and that completely put me into sensory overload. We walked into H&M, and I felt like I’ve fallen into a snow globe. I know I went from a rural village to a major city in the span of a few days, but WHOA. Walking through the mall shopping center, I felt like I had ADHD with the amount of things to see, smell, and hear, all while I have to walk and figure out where I’m going?! A simple trip to a pharmacy today made my brain feel like it was firing in a million different directions making it impossible for me to focus on what I was even in there for. Why are there so many options!? And what is it with mirrors? They’re so confusing!

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?

I will sleep tonight with an extremely heavy heart and puffy, red eyes. Today I had to leave my home here in Malawi.  I remember my ideas about Peace Corps and Africa before I left America. Like most people who have never been to Africa and who often only hear about the bad things that happen here, I was intimidated and a bit scared about the idea of living in a rural village by myself. My going away parties were difficult—I thought they would be the hardest goodbyes I’d ever face. Not seeing so many people I care deeply about for two years; I couldn’t even imagine it.   But today was hard in a different kind of way. Saying goodbye to someone you love, knowing you’ll be back in two years, is completely unlike saying goodbye to someone whom you don’t know if you’ll ever see again (partially because you know they don’t have the means to leave). I’ve said a lot of goodbyes in the past two years, and I thought I’d progressed from the days when I was always the first to cry at the