Good golly I’m not in Mali, but I’m not home either.
(Sorry, I had to. Mkay, got that out of my system).
“Crazy” doesn’t even begin to describe the past month of my
life. At last post, I was leaving Mali for (Spoiler Alert!) GHANA to attend our
Transition Conference. It was a helluva week, with sessions, interviews,
paperwork, bloodwork, and a lot of emotion. I have to say, PC Washington’s
veritable SWAT Team of Transitional Conference staff did a stellar job, all
things considered. We (all 180+ of us) had input in how the conference was run,
free time, pretty fast internet access, interviewing and resume help, access to
free counseling services, and, most excitingly, quite a few options for
transferring to other countries of service. They even planned a really
beautiful closing ceremony at the end. It gave each stage of volunteers a
chance to speak on their experience and thank the people that made it all
possible. It also provided good closure. We needed it.
So I suppose that I should tell you (or confirm your
suspicions) that I didn’t transfer my service to another country. I have officially
closed my Peace Corps service. Sigh. I really wanted to transfer. Or, at least,
I thought I did. At the end of the first night of the conference, staff posted
a list of all of the potential positions for transfers. According to my sector
(Environment) and my specific skill set, I was eligible for programs in Burkina
Faso and Senegal. The Burkina Faso position was the best fit- but it was just
like my placement in Mali. It would have been in another rural village- which in
and of itself would have been wonderful, because I love village life. However
there was a strong chance that I would have had to learn another local
language. I knew going into this conference that doing that was not an option
for me. I was afraid that I’d have two first years, this second one being full
of frustration and language gaffs, and not enough time to do good work. Plus,
and this may sound counterintuitive, but Burkina is so close to Mali, literally
and figuratively. I just knew that had I gone through the pain of a site
change, an evacuation, a waiting period (program started in June), and then a
transfer to a new post 40 kilometers across the Sikasso border, that it would
have made me bitter. And then I’d be a poor volunteer, and that defeats the
purpose of me being here. Senegal was a similar set up (no guarantee of working
in French, a possible requirement to do the entire two years over again).
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| view from the old slaving fort over the village |
In the end, when I looked at what was offered to me, I knew
that I had more and better options if I closed my service and went home. I so
desperately wanted the two year Peace Corps experience that I thought I’d have,
and I was doing all sorts of mental gymnastics to try to get the job
descriptions sound appealing to me. But at the end of the day, I knew I was
just trying to make something work that just wasn’t going to. So, I decided to
withdraw my name from the pool of transfer applicants, and (begrudgingly) start
the journey home.
It wasn’t, and hasn’t, been easy. My mother can attest. I’m
pretty sure that I just sobbed over the phone for forty-five minutes on that
first night of uncertainty and disappointment at my options (and maybe a few
more times in the days following). I didn’t want to admit that my journey would
come to such a truncation. I wanted to make it work so badly. I had gone
through a crazy, amazing year in Mali, and I was finally ready for a fresh take
when the coup happened. And then, to realize that what I needed for my second
year wasn’t possible… well, it was sad. And it made me angry. But the more I
think about it, the more I know that I have made the right decision.
I am excited to find the opportunity in this sudden change
of events. I’m proud of myself for doing what I’ve done, and I’m a better
person for having done 14 months of Peace Corps than none at all. And I have
options: the PC family/network is huge, there are short term Peace Corps
Response positions opening all the time, and my family and friends are great
supports. I know I’ll find something, but I’m not in a rush. I’m still grieving
over Mali, and I expect to for a long time. The counselors at the conference
told us we would feel like we had lost a loved one, or left our first loves. It
will always kind of hurt, but the fond memories and learning moments won’t be
totally lost, either.
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| tzatziki and feta |
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| parethenon with erin |
For now, I’m travelling. I had vacations to Spain and Italy
planned before the coup (Spain with my best friend from high school, Beth, and
her Aunt Mary, Italy to see my family and boyfriend). In the meantime after the
conference, I spent some time on the beach in Ghana with my PC friends, and
just recently left a friend in Athens after a week chock full of feta cheese
and saying UUUPPPAAAAA!! I can’t wait to see my family, though. The traveling
sounds lovely and exotic, I know, but I am really looking forward to just
hunkering down and being hugged. I don’t feel so strong these days, and I think
that being with my family and Matt will help center me.
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| Ghana, after the conference |
Sorry for being so sad, but that’s just the way the cookie
crumbles sometimes. As my brother would say, sometimes you get the bear,
sometimes the bear gets you. But I still seek the silver lining—I have my
health, my safety, and a beautiful life to go home to. But not just yet. For
now, I travel and float, travel and float. It’s true, what they say: life is
what happens when you’re busy making other plans. So here’s to life: may it
always be better than you thought it could be. J
