I set off to do this amazing adventure so that I wouldn’t be jealous of others when they tell me of all the places they’ve been and things they have learned. Why is does my daily life feel like a cycle of jealousy now? I’m supposed to be happy. I’m supposed to be in love with my work and beyond satisfied with where I am. What’s wrong?
Lately, maybe just the past week, I’ve been homesick. I think my mind started to turn this way at the last training I attended in Pretoria. Before The Health Symposium training for myself and counterparts, the group before me (SA 21) had their mid-service training. This is the week when Peace Corps talks to us after a year into our service. Apparently there are some discussions about up-coming plans (thank God. I’ve always been horrible at planning out my life), preparing to leave country, and reflecting on the past year. I looked around at the faces that I have grown to look-up to. They knew so much more about culture and language than I. They seemed to have been in their villages forever, although they arrived 5 months before I had. They, the experts of all things Peace Corps, were only ONE year in? There was still ANOTHER year? Oh, God. This is a long commitment I’ve made.
Since that training, I keep feeling that I wish I could experience something else. That something else is at home. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss teacher beers and grocery stores. I miss movie theaters. I miss wine bars. I miss central heating and my clothes. I miss being able to call up my friends and talk. I miss going to the gym. I miss Starbucks. I miss my ex boyfriend. I miss teaching Americans. I miss being able to speak normal-paced English and being considered funny (this only happened occasionally). As this service has been rather enjoyable, I’ve considered extending for another year. Perhaps I’ll go to the South Pacific Islands and be a PCV there for a year, I’ve thought. Now, I don’t know if I’ll be able to make the full two years that I’ve already committed to. When I pause and recall America, being hugged by my parents, and holidays, I can’t help but think that the person who lives abroad for an extended amount of time must gain the unnatural ability to go numb. I feel like if I can make it two years, I’ll have successfully blocked out many things that are dear to my heart in order to do so.
It’s getting cold outside. According to the village people, this cold is only fall; winter will be much, much worse. I have slept in wool socks, pants, three shirts, a sweatshirt, down vest, hat, and gloves and still wake up cold. I think I’m going to die. I also think that the news is missing the top story: South Africa has been physically cut off from the rest of Africa and is floating towards Antarctica. Holy crap, people. It’s freezing. Sigh. I can make this. I’ve actually sat on the edge of my bed and given this pep talk to myself, twice. It’s only about 4 months of cold. And what is cold weather going to do to me? Well, thus far, the dark just gives me more time to sleep and stay inside, alone. It gives me thinking time, which is dangerous when you are a volunteer. But can’t I also think myself towards happiness too?
Maybe it’s the cold. Maybe it’s the amount of down time one has when she lives in a foreign country and has her own living quarters. Maybe it’s weakness. Whatever is making it hard is real. When I say to my family, “I can’t wait to see you,” I’m not sure if I’m telling the truth.
The other day, as I looked out a cramped car window on the way to church I thought: I wonder if this falls under that Peace Corps promise of ‘I promise to serve under conditions of hardship if necessary.’ I teared up, imaginary-flapped my face, and looked around. Gogos were holding onto my knees and the entire car was singing hymns. I know this is a wonderful place with some of the most inspirational people. It’s just not home…
I don’t mean to be overly dramatic, although I am. I just wanted to update my blog, reach out a little bit, and put my first downer entry on the books. So take it or leave it. I’m missing home.
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