When I first came to Africa it was all about me. How difficult it was here for me. How unsanitary everything seemed to be to me. How much better everyone was getting along than me. How much slower my language seemed to be to me. Now, I can clearly see two things: one, the feelings that I was experiencing were totally natural ways of coping with change; two, that this really isn’t about me. I am 8 months into my service and the dust is finally beginning to settle. I look around my neighborhood and it’s as if I am seeing it for the first time. For the first time I can see the mix of cement houses and huts in an interesting juxtaposition of old and new design. Where I would have only seen the streets littered with trash and dirty sewage water, I can now see that each one of my neighbors has taken great care to sweep the area in front of their hut. I can see the old man smiling with great pleasure as he watches me, head wrapped in Malian fabric and ill-fitting containers in my hands, walk by on my way to buy beans from a street vendor. I can see two donkeys and a dog nuzzling one another. I can see people’s faces light up when I greet them in their native tongue while passing on street. I can see the great strength and pride of the Malian people as well as their concealed vulnerability in regard to their lack of education. I can see children who are acutely malnourished. I can see people who have dangerously taken to self medicating for lack of access to healthcare. Every day, I see malnourished young boys begging for food-- graciously mixing together in a small bucket the leftovers from my dinner plate with the ill-assorted food from other neighbors.
As I said before, this isn’t about me. I do, however, want to take a moment to toot my own horn a bit for taking a big leap of faith on my own behalf. I walked away from my life at almost 30 years old, to take on a job/life experience that many take on after college or retirement. I was learning my first foreign language. At first, I felt a little embarrassed for myself. I wanted to go back to my career where I was confident in my abilities, back to my friends and family whom I missed terribly. I also knew that being a part of the Peace Corps was something that I really wanted, not only as a means of self development (because let’s face it everyone knows that there’s no such thing as completely a selfless act), but also because I truly do want to do something that makes me feel like I am making a difference, at least in a way that made sense to me, during the 12 hours a day I am accustomed to spending at work. It’s also my hope that maybe my being here will help show people from every socioeconomic background, that they too have access to programs abroad. While a large population of volunteers have degrees from lauded universities, I have mine from a small state school in Vermont. If you come from a situation like mine where, for the most part, you are totally reliant on yourself to provide your most basic needs, and even that is finically difficult at times-- it can be a bit harrowing to sell the first decent car that you’ve owned; risk losing two critical years of career development (especially after, say, putting yourself through college and acquiring thousands of dollars of debt); and to put faith in yourself that you have the courage to see something through. I can’t say that I was 100% aware of what I was getting myself into, and I can’t say 100% that I do now. What I can say is that this was a calculated risk, and so far it’s working out. Every day here is an opportunity to make a difference in the life of someone who really wants it. Wish me luck!
