October Blues

As the weather at home grows chillier and it becomes brutally hot here in Togo, I find myself in a slump. As early as a week ago, I was feeling pretty good about life in general. Anna (a neighboring volunteer) and I held a great training of trainers here in Vogan. A local Christian women’s association asked us to train a few of their women in HIV/AIDS and how to teach it. So for the past month or so, Anna and I have been planning that program, and the actual training went really well. The association picked women who had a good grasp of French, and hopefully they will take what they’ve learned back to their villages and share it in local language with other women. The schedule was packed full of sessions about the immune system, HIV and the vulnerability of women, teaching methods and what works best when teaching about HIV/AIDS, transmission, prevention, and a quick lesson on nutrition. We were all exhausted by the end of it, but I think it went really well. It was the first time I’ve run full sessions by myself, and I was glad I overcame my fears about speaking French in public, because now I feel like there is more I can do in Vogan. I’ve seen that language is no longer a barrier to my work. (Go to the "My Pictures" link on the right and see "Vogan Training")

One of the interesting things about the Peace Corps is the mood of a PCV changes on a regular basis. Just when I thought I was feeling settled, busy, dare I say it? happy, an inexplicable sadness and fatigue overcame me in this last week. I’m always amazed how homesickness can punch me right in the gut. Since I live alone (except for my two cats, which you all have heard way too much about) I have a lot of time to analyze my feelings, probably more than is healthy. I’ve started confronting them from an almost objective position, finding them fascinating. I doubt a time in my life will come again where I am as volatile as I am here. Reading back over my diary as I did the other day, I sound like I should probably be on some sort of medication. This experience is emotionally, physically, mentally draining for all of us, even when we don’t consciously feel it. Talking to my mother on the phone the other night, I came to a sad realization. I am 26 years old and have spent the last year counting down the months of my life, and will continue to do so for the next eight. I’m happy I’m doing this, and will never regret it, but it strikes me as sad that by the time I return, I will have been waiting for the last 2 years of my life to just be over. I long to be in a place in my life where I’m not doing that. For now, I am sad and unmotivated, feeling like the eight months ahead of me are an eternity. Next week, who knows? Perhaps I’ll feel, as I did two weeks ago, that I’m on the home stretch. Such is the emotional state of a PCV!
Part of my doldrums is due to work slowing down a bit. Our training is over. There’s nothing active for me to be doing for the center at the moment (see the latest pictures in "My Pictures, Center"), since they’re digging the well (by hand, check out the photo) and we need to find water before proceeding. Our Karren Waid scholarship program is still an organizational nightmare, but at least a majority of the girls have their money for the school year. So the past three days have included me wandering aimlessly through my house, finishing two books, and wandering into the kitchen to look for food that is never going to magically appear. I’m trying to look forward to a fun November, with Thanksgiving, my birthday, and a little travel thrown in. But when I let myself think about the crisp, cold days of autumn in New England, my heart hurts. As I hear about all of you starting to freeze as the winter rolls in, I’m sure I’ll start feeling a little better…for all I complain, I don’t miss Boston winters!