(Written August 13)
It is my first day back in village without my parents, and it seems strange to be alone again for the first time in 6 weeks. My trip home was wonderful. I managed to see a lot of people and although it was a whirlwind, I’m glad that I traveled as much as I did. At the moment when the wheels of my plane touched down at JFK, I felt an enormous sense of relief. I felt as if the longest, hardest year of my life was finally over. I know the next year will hold a lot of challenges, but when I hugged my family, it was if the weight of all those months of loneliness were lifted off of me. I arrived on July 4th and my parents, my sister, my dear friend Deborah and myself all headed directly home for a cookout. Although I fell asleep well before the fireworks, I couldn’t have asked for a better independence day.
My travels took me to Philly, our lake house in Wolfeboro, NH, Boston, Concord for Kate’s wedding (a fantastic time!), back to Wolfeboro, and then back to Philly. Along the way I managed to see all 4 of my grandparents, three of my aunts, three of my cousins, Julia’s fiancé, all of my best friends in Boston and my fabulous Mt. Holyoke women. Before leaving for the States, I was extremely nervous that I would no longer be able to relate to my friends. I thought perhaps I had changed, that maybe my social skills had atrophied from lack of use. Although I did humiliate myself on more than one occasion, I was overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support I felt from everyone back home. They graciously let me ramble about my experiences and put up with my French- and Ewe-smattered English.
The culture shock was not nearly as pronounced as I thought it was going to be. Although I found it very strange to be surrounded by a majority of white people and I found myself utterly overwhelmed by the number of chewing gum choices, I acclimated back to hot showers and American food pretty quickly. It is not until you are forced to go without for an extended period of time that you can truly see the excesses in American culture. I was amazed at the sheer quantity of things. I would exclaim “that’s a SMALL?!” every time I ordered something, and Julia would admonish me for seeming to be angry at the cashier. Every time I sat with a menu in front of me, I would become stressed out because I didn’t know how to handle so many choices. For someone who has eaten the same exact thing every day for the last year, choosing between four cheese ravioli and shrimp pesto pasta is a huge decision. However, I was pleased to realize that living in Africa has instilled in me an appreciation for these things that I never had before. Although these things will one day again seem commonplace for me, I will never again take them for granted.
Boarding my plane for Ghana, I felt a sense of dread. I had a moment of serious hesitation. Then I sat down in my seat, and the gentleman next to me instantly turned to introduce himself. The back six rows of the plane were quickly chattering and laughing in local language. I felt like I was back in my element, and I relaxed and settled into my seat. I didn’t really realize that I was uncomfortable with certain aspects of America until I was back in Africa. I have learned how to comport myself in a certain way to get by here, to fit into the culture and to belong in a society where I am inherently different. In ways it has made me shyer, in others it has made me much more aggressive. This behavior was a little difficult to reconcile with being in the States. As I struck up a conversation in English, French and Ewe with the man next to me, I felt the languages come tumbling out of me, as if I had been holding back a flood for the last 3 weeks. I missed the openness of West Africa, the willingness to engage with people. I thought I was going to be really sad to come back, but in actuality, I was relieved.
My parents arrived the next night in Lomé and spent two weeks with me here. Their visit was everything I could have asked for, barring some mysterious stomach ailment that felled both my mom and me for a few days. My parents were flexible, adventurous, and open to pretty much everything, which made my role as a tour guide fun and interesting. My dad, who had never been outside the Western world, seemed to look at Togo with a wonder that was really interesting to watch. My parents were able to ask the difficult questions (i.e. about politics, religion) that I as a Peace Corps volunteer usually avoid. Through translating for them, I learned a lot from the local population about their views on their government and their quality of life that I think will help me as I move forward in my work. My parents kept their humor through everything, which is invaluable when traveling around Togo. Even when we found ourselves in a hotel directly adjoining a nightclub whose music started pounding at 10pm, they laughed it off. We spent a lot of time in my town, and then traveled to my training village in Agou to visit my host mother. We also went out to my best friend Anna’s village of Sevegan, where they were able to experience a more typical Togolese village.
It was amazing for me to finally be able to introduce my parents to all the people who have been integral parts of my life here. It was also fantastic to see how excited my Togolese friends were to meet my parents. My host mom was so excited she literally picked me up off the ground and swung me around. Mawussi, my host mom in Vogan, came bolting out the door to hug all of us when we drove up to the house. For a culture that frowns on physical contact, I was amazed at the outpouring of affection.
Putting my parents on a plane back home was difficult and although I was somewhat envious, I was glad I wasn’t going with them. More than anything this trip has shown me that I’m not ready for my time here to be over. I love America, I miss my friends and family, but my work here is just beginning. I am more than halfway finished with my service, which is hard to believe. But looking forward to the next 11 months, I feel like it’s going to fly by. I find myself suddenly busy; my center project is beginning, I’m teaching computer classes and I’m in charge of the Peace Corps’ national girls’ scholarship program. Soon I’ll be working on grad school applications. I’m hitting the ground running this time around, and it makes the challenges completely different. They are welcome challenges, however, as I have been struggling for a year to find a purpose to my time here. It seems as if, moving forward, I am slowly starting to shape that purpose.
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