Life is not always inspiring here. There are very difficult days, sometimes these days come in groups of days. I’m hoping they don’t come in bundles of weeks. They are challenging, require constant supply of patience and an escape when your endurance finally breaks. There are little and big straws that cause the camel’s back to break. If you are interested in joining the Peace Corps, please and I mean PLEASE mentally prepare yourself for these inevitable tests.
I’ve gotten used to the 5am prayer calls coming from the Mosque about twenty feet away from my house. What I still haven’t gotten used to is the endless supply of babies crying. There are two babies, six toddlers, eight kids within my concession. At least one of them is always crying. This does not include the babies in the neighboring concessions. I used to be sympathetic to people who cry, now I am apathetic. I defend my indifference because I’ve discovered that anger does not help. But anger does pay a visit every now and then.
I made the mistake of setting the precedent that the children are always welcome, BIG mistake. Sometimes there are more than fifteen kids in my living room, some days I don’t know who some of them are. Some of them have gotten used to coming in and playing with the blocks without even asking. I kick them out every time they do. Kids are only good at two things, crying and not listening. I have to constantly break fights, settle disputes and other time wasting actions that result in the children not learning a damn thing because they do it again after a few minutes. They leave my living room a mess, my couches disheveled and they have a knack for leaving random things in my house. I decided a few days ago that it was time for some reforms, they were simply combusting way too many of the remaining synapses that they have left me.
One of the most irritating things is that the children go through my garbage. I remember opening a can of tuna and a few days later one of the kids was casually holding the empty can as he walked through the concession. This is one of the reasons I want to start some sort of waste management program in my village. There is simply no privacy, at all. When I do shut my door, they love to knock. Knock and knock and knock and knock until I finally tell them what they should already know. If I leave the door closed for more than four hours the women in my concession ask me if something is wrong. There are many people who like to come to my concession because we have a faucet connected to our well. When kids come to get water they like to look through my windows and opened door to see what I’m doing, as if I was some monkey sniffing my finger at a zoo. It’s pretty great.
One of the most fun things about living here is not knowing the local language. I know when they are talking about me because they use the word ‘nassarra’ when they speak near me. Nassarra means white person. I used to think Americans were ignorant, nope, now I think they’re tied with Africans. Anyone who is not black, is white. This never gets old for the Asians, Latinos and every other none white Peace Corps Volunteer serving.
Trust me when I say the list can continue for another few pages, I will spare you. Instead I will tell you of the holidays I have to take in order to feel better.
My six K run does wonders. Some exercise after the run just hits the spot, all the spots. I was reminded today why I enjoyed Track and Field during high school. Even though I never competed in any of the events, I loved the training. I loved the running. I remember hating it in the United States when I first moved, running really helped me through the first two years. I’m discovering that it is doing the same here.
Movie Marathon days are the fire extinguisher to my bad work days. Whenever some person blows off one of our meetings or when a meeting goes unsuccessfully I go home and watch movies on my computer. Thank God people in my stage hooked me up with more than 500 gigs worth of movies and shows. Whenever I watch a good film, it inspires me to write something. Watching movies is one of my favorite things in the world to do, it’s better than Novocain.
Writing. Writing has been so cathartic. Writing releases my negative energy from my finger tips. Even now, it feels like I’m taking a drink of water after a long run. I’m regaining my strength and reflecting at the same time. What better use of time could there possibly be? I spend more time writing than I do reading. Each letter is like a friend who listens to me vent or responds with good advice. Every period I type is a deep breath, a count to ten that brings me back to my equilibrium.
There are of course others, hanging out with friends, listening to music, cooking, drinking, playing the guitar, reading, playing computer games or my Gameboy. But none of them top the three I wrote about. Writing, watching films and exercising are the greatest vacations. These three things don’t just get me through the challenging days but they help me learn from them. They help me grow, they ultimately strengthen my stamina.
I hope this explains some of the downs and back to the middles of living as a PCV.
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