As I was sitting in my bucket today, bathing, I couldn’t help but reflect on these last five months in
On close inspection of my body, I see that I’ve remained pretty intact. Though some of my friends have acquired new and strange Africa-induced disorders and complexes, I’ve remained, though a little more hairy than my real American self, pretty much the same. No significant weight loss or weight gain despite my co-workers telling me every week that I’m either getting fat (which South Africans say with no sugar coating, simply a “You’re getting fat!” is deemed appropriate here, something I thoroughly hate) or losing weight and should wear tighter skirts. It makes no sense to me; one comment or the other is never consistent enough to create a real complex, luckily. Although, I will admit, when my co-workers at school tell me I’ve gained weight, I do say, “I was just thinking the same about you.” Smile.
It’s the worst I can do, and God forgive me, I do feel guilty because as a Western woman, I think that being told your fat is good cause to find the nearest cliff and hurl yourself off it, and would never encourage such behavior but my, these strong African women! Geez. Even when I come back with a comment that my high school teachers would deem “full of attitude” I only get a laugh and a, “Oh Dineo…” and then the woman that I’ve just told that to continues to stuff her mouth with white bread, pap or another equally as bad-for-you food item that is so popular around here. I, on the other hand, usually lose my appetite for at least an hour before I completely rebound and remember that my jeans still fit the same.
Now, as for the state of my mental health, that’s a different discussion. Depending on whom you ask, some might have deemed me a little “different” before embarking on my Peace Corps adventure, but now, there may be more that may deem me so. Sometimes I wonder why my friends are always saying, “You’re crazy.” I thought they were just playing around, but when a lot of people from different circles begin to tell you that, you have to begin to wonder the truth behind it. It’s a strange phenomenon. Perhaps trying to help others makes one crazy? Hmm, I wonder if there’s been any research in the field…
Whilst in training, I was given this graph to plot my overall feeling for the week. It ranges from 0 (completely crappy, suicide watch necessary) to 10 (orgasmic week of smiles and rainbows). I pretty much ignored charting my feelings during training. I figured that consistent 2’s or 3’s would make me doubt my commitment to this project, even though I know that I’m just a really bad trainer. And culture shock. When in doubt, blame culture shock. Works every time.
But recently when looking through all the crap (I mean, resources) I was given during training, I found the chart and ceremoniously posted it on my fridge for future pondering. I had graphed the first few weeks at site between a 4-6 on the scale. Wow, I’m thinking to myself now, how optimistic I once was! I’m proud of myself and now want to keep the chart as-is to remind myself that at one point things weren’t so _____ (well let’s just keep that blank for sake of the Peace Corps watchdogs).
So now, as I sit in my bucket, I ponder my life in
However, judging The Experience on what I consider a “normal” scale would be unfair. There are so many new and different factors that you have to consider, the infamous culture shock being one of them. I can’t rate my life here on the same scale as I could have this time last year. I can’t say to myself, “Self, this time last year you (I) would rate satisfaction at a 7.85 but this year I can only rate it at a 3.” I can’t (shouldn’t) think my life is in shambles and that I’m on a downward spiral leading to a deep and dark depression, but think, “Well, self, last year you were in America surrounded by a culture you understood, making real money that your friends didn’t laugh at, and had a dog, apartment (with a shower!) and boyfriend (read: independence).” And this year? Well, this is the year where I literally run away from strangers proposing marriage to me, consider TB/parasites to be a real threat, often have no idea what anybody is talking about because they talk in some weird alien language that I just barely realized even existed let alone began learning, oh! And, have no dog or boyfriend within 10,000 miles. So yeah, things shouldn’t be compared.
To combat my downward spiral inevitably leading to depression, lots of alcohol and woeful emails to friends and family about the suckiness of my current African life (which may or may not have already commenced), I’ve begun to try to think of my life on a new “Peace Corps-rrific” scale where every week is relative to the week preceding it. Instead of thinking, “Last year I was happier,” I simply think, “Hey, this week was better than last week!” And alas, I feel a bit more ready to move on to the next week. I guess this could eventually lead to issues if I have a series of bad weeks, but I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.
Also, I’ve begun thinking about things that I’ve gained….hmm, ok, maybe I shouldn’t think about that.
I’ve decided what is not good for my African self. Alcohol for one, I found out on the plane leaving
And finally, three, Peace Corps propaganda (yes, it’s propaganda) should be avoided. I’ve realized that though at one point seeing those nifty posters in airport terminals or commercials on TV telling you that “Life is Calling” were once inspiring and motivated me to continue my application process, they now anger me and force me to spew a series of not-so-nice words that my grandmother probably would not be pleased to hear. I wonder if army soldiers feel the same way about those heartfelt “Army of One” (or whatever the tagline for that is now) commercials. I know the government does a lot more brainwashing (I mean, training) of soldiers than we get, so maybe they’re numb. But, alas, I am not. And now have realized these posters, news stores, and websites should be avoided.
I have to be grateful about some things too. My boyfriend has stuck with me (he’s obviously equally as crazy) and my parents and friends have been a constant support for me on my good and bad days. They try to understand my new African life and my ever-changing emotions.
My life has slowed down so much since I’ve been in my itty-bitty village. I actually have time to read books (I average about one a week) and learn to cook. Since I have no real social life in the village, I end up spending a lot of time thinking, which may or may not be a good thing, but it’s gotten me to ponder some more serious things about life like love and religion.
So that’s where I stand now. The one thing I have realized is true that I read previously in Peace Corps literature is that this is a hard job. It’s not always fun and not always as rewarding as the propaganda says it should be, but at the very least, I’ll know a little more about what I can and cannot handle.
I guess we’ll just have to find out together how my Peace Corps story ends…
Current Book: The Shopenhauer Cure; Irvin D. Yalom
Current Song: Taller, Stronger, Better; Guy Sebastian
Such truer words were never spoken. Very poignant Roze. I also love that bucket bathing gives the same "think time" like when people shower. That's what I love about showers - time to think - and it's good that it transitions to bucket baths too, haha : )
ReplyDelete