Visitors and Travel

I am coming up to breathe after a rowdy nine-day, late nights, friend-filled bender. The journey began with a Mexican date-night at Fuego on Friday, followed by comedy with new and old friends. Saturday brought Kansas basketball--the last game of the regular season--at The Bottom Line with friends from Kansas. And Sunday, there was a lengthy city stroll on Roosevelt Island and later through Georgetown for shoe shopping and ice cream at Thomas Sweet.

Monday was normal--a long, coffee-filled day of work.

On Tuesday, a dear friend, K.A.B., returned from a 10-month Peace Corps Response job in Hamburg, South Africa. The day was overcast--heavy-rain falling, and because I was working from home, I was barely awake when she knocked on my door circa early bird hour. The benefit of a work from home schedule allowed a little bit of catch-up time before she found the Pentagon City Mall for shopping. Post-work, I met Boyfriend and her for happy hour at The American Tap Room, and we later joined fellow Returned Peace Corps Volunteers for dinner at The Lost Dog Cafe. During a well-timed, slow Wednesday of work, I spent time in conversation over Ethiopian coffee, brought kindly by my visitor following her venture there, with K.A.B. Then there might have been some Rocklands lunch and a Dance Moms siesta. Tough life I lead, eh?

Thursday I took the day off, and I deserved it, after all the hard-work logged on Wednesday. There was brunch at The Silver Dinner, followed by coffee at Baked and Wire. Coffee we might or might not have spiked with Baileys. Then, of course, Thursday being March 14, we celebrated National Pi Day at Pie Sisters in Georgetown. And since it was nearly time for Kansas to tip-off, I dragged our clan to McFaddens so this diehard could catch second-round play of the Big 12 tournament. Kansas whipped up on Texas Tech, which was nice to see, after the embarrassing loss to Baylor the Saturday before. After the game we migrated to the Science Club... because went you start drinking at 1:00 pm, you are really thirsty by happy hour. The Science Club is a great idea for a bar... there is just so much potential there... and if you have not already discovered the nerd in me (and my equally so friends; re: Pi Day), we really longed for drinks served in beakers. I hate to report we struck out, but know that I am not above investing.

After a drink, Boyfriend and I had to part ways with our West Coast friend to catch a bus to New York City for a(nother) reunion of sorts. I am still sort of exhausted when I think about this trip; NYC was filled to the brim with continuous activity. The 2:00 am arrival--thank you one-lane of traffic through the entire state of New Jersey--really jived with the City That Never Sleeps. We woke-up refreshed on Friday morning and refueled at H&H Bagels before heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. (This was a pretty painful experience for me. Meanwhile, Boyfriend could quote the name of various paintings before reading the accompanying plaque. He has a bit of an old man spirit... and I will let this photo capture his essence for you.)

From the Met, we walked through Central Park. It was f-r-e-e-z-i-n-g, so we headed down to Chelsea for another outdoor activity--a walk on The High Line. I thought the attempt at historical nature in the city was neat while Boyfriend was less impressed. This was surprisingly more frigid than Central Park, as the wind whipped off the water. Then it was time to meet friends in Chinatown--where health inspection 'grade pending' signs were posted to nearly every window--for the most unhealthy linner (lunch + dinner). (But that is just me sucking the joy out of life... or so I hear.) Then back over to Chelsea--efficiency is totally our thing--for happy hour at the Trailer Park Lounge. So many fabulous things happen when a bunch of budget travelers find five dollar margaritas in NYC... and proceed to order ridiculous amounts right before happy hour expires.

R.D.S., bless her heart, met us at "happy hour" so we could walk to the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre for an improv show. The show was excellent. Afterwards, we headed back to the Upper East Side for Insomnia Cookies before closing day and night one.

Saturday, R.D.S. and I got up early to get rush tickets to Rodger + Hamerstein's Cinderella. For a reason unbeknownst to us, there were no rush tickets on this snowy March Saturday. This means I did not get to see Cinderella or Matilda or Book of Mormons or Peter and the Starcatchers. Next time. For certain. From there, we met Boyfriend at Ess-a Bagel for another bagel breakfast. Delicious. And during out 20-minute wait for bagels, R.D.S. managed to snag us a table. Win. As we started walking back to R.D.S.'s place, the weather took a turn for the worse. After warm showers, we decided to cancel our plans for walking the Brooklyn Bridge and pizza by the slice at Grimaldi's due to snow showers. We settled Upper East Side coffee and pizza at Numero 28... and a relaxing afternoon of catch-up time. In the late afternoon, Boyfriend and I parted from R.D.S. to head to Harlem to visit with Peace Corps friends and later see the Africa Now! concert at the Apollo. Freshlyground, a South African band we adore, was playing one of the sets in show. I also got to see Blitz the Ambassador, a name I only heard in Ghana, perform. The concert turned into the highlight of the weekend. And what could have made the night more perfect? Street food and another helping of Insomnia Cookies. Yes. Please.

Spent from the first two days, we slept in a bit on Sunday. After saying goodbye to our excellent host, I headed to Brooklyn to meet J.W.M. and his girlfriend for brunch. The food was yummy and the company was, per usual, entertaining. Afterwards, I met back up with J.P.B. and the two of us wasted time for the final hour until our bus departed.

On any other given Sunday, my bed would have been the most delightful greeting when I walked in the door of my apartment... but this was Selection Sunday. Before sleep, I needed to do an initial bracket analysis. March Madness is upon us. Time to dance. And I saw a potential for a bracket filled out with a lot of heart. So Go Blue. Until the Rock Chalk Jayhawks take over in the South. Go Sparty in the Midwest. As for the East and West, heart might be lacking, but I will take ACC in the East and Big Ten (Badgers, NOT Buckeyes) in the West.

If that was not enough excitement, Gap was having a sale on jeans. I am in dire need, so I did closed out evening with some impulse purchases as the sale expired at midnight.

Times like these might lead to emails from Mom that say, "It's like you still live in Africa." Busy, busy.

The Anniversary of the End

Sunday, December 18, 2011 marked my first full year back in the good ole U.S. of A. after the abrupt termination of my Peace Corps service. The end came before I truly got started. (The first year of service is about acquainting yourself with culture, developing relationships, identifying needs, and establishing trust.) When "I" agreed on Ghana, knowing Lesotho was not longer an option, I was aware my story had veered down a path of its own. Instead of the 'normal' two year stint in a single country--a single village--I would have two first years. I had the lone advantage of understanding--to expect nothing. I would learn a new language and, with time, slowly find my place amongst a far more Westernized culture. For this 'less is more' loving girl, I was skeptical and unsure of my ability to handle a second first year. 

The alternative was quitting... which was not actually an alternative. 

I must have arrived in Ghana to utter chaos; the month-long experience has been 'blacked-out' from my memory. That was not my intention; I still tug at my brain for memories--the name of the my headmaster, the name of my school, or the name of my village. If it were not for the four words of Twi (principal native language of Ghana) I learned or the grand total of six people interacted with, I would argue I spent a month on the tarmac of the Kotoka International Airport. 

I boarded the America-bound plane and panicked. If you have not met Rock Bottom, allow me to introduce you: Shrieking. Numb. Oblivious. Tears. Confusion. The United Airlines pilot privately escorted me off the plane to address "my condition" as he referred to it. I would learn, I could not be in this state at the time of departure... or I would be left behind. I searched for a metaphor in this. 

I never found my metaphor, but I found good fortune in the form of a six hour delay. There was a crew shortage... which, in retrospect, is probably why the Pilot Man had to deal with me. Then there was engine failure. I was able to stay outside under the warm Ghanaian sky, while the rest of the passengers sat--starring out their blurry oval windows--inside. Special Treatment? Pilot Man had his newest Crew Girl call me inside to my seat. I adjusted my seatbelt... and started shaking and sweating. We were in motion when the waterworks began. Another lecture. People were whispering about sedatives. Mom taught me not to take candy from strangers so I was not about to bum drugs off Randy Random(!!!). 

There was a minor victory when faulty wheels were discovered seconds before take off. I was re-released to the now brightly covered starlit night while repairs were made. And then the Boeing 767-300 and I were actually ready to go... at this point I felt more at ease than my fellow passengers appeared.

I landed on American soil between breakfast and lunch to the whites of my dad's eyes. He came inside to get me… or carry the luggage I did not even bother to bring home. I did not want belongings tainted with 'the end' of something I was unprepared for. I got to our snow-covered home and climbed into bed. After sleeping on a thick-ish pad in Ghana under a towel--soaked with sweat by morning--my twin-sized Costco bed luxuriously welcomed me; I climbed in for the winter hibernation ahead. I slept for six straight daytime hours--the most I had consistently slept since September 3. Minor victory #2. 

The holidays skated by in one big blur. I could not wait to be out of the season of joy--this time of year is the blatant reminder we are without one. 

In an ideal world, I would have shared this story yesterday on the one year anniversary. It was not, however, until today that I was able to combine the first half saved online with my word documented ending. What might seem ugly and embarrassing, even funny, to the masses is a display for myself of the length I have traveled between then and now. It is far to easy to count this year as another loss, after all, I still catch zzz's in my Costco bed... which between last year and night has become more unwelcoming than ever.

“Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.” (Maria Robinson)

What If

What if I had never joined Peace Corps? What if T.C.M. and I had never met? What if T.C.M. had never been killed in front of me? What if I had finished my service in Lesotho? What if I had never went to Ghana? What if I had not been medically separated from Ghana? What if I never got a parasite? What if these nightmares never go away? What if my luggage had made it safely back? What if Peace Corps cared about me as a person? What if I remain a spectacle to the media? What if I had never moved back to South Carolina? What if I never find a job? What if I never start to feel again? What if the rest of life is just going through the motions? What if these migraines and stomach aches stay with me the rest of my life? What if something terrible happens... again?

Two years ago today, I picked up my life and sealed my heart for Lesotho. I bid a tearful goodbye to both my parents... and joined 28 people, who shared at least one common bond with me, in a hotel conference room in Philadelphia's historic district. Together, we sat through orientation, spent the night getting to know one another, and in the wee hours of the morning, boarded a bus to John F. Kennedy International Airport, and finally a plane to Lesotho via Johannesburg, South Africa. The memories began building that night... and continue to this day. So the answer to one of my many 'what if's' is I would be without the volunteers I came to know through this experience, the connections made through these volunteers, and my rural mountainside living adventure. And that would be unfortunate, but okay.

Because, today, two years later, sans the bureaucratic garbage, I can all but guarantee I would be a better person. I would, first off, be happy and, second, employed or in grad school. Sure, I would have given up on a dream, but, unknowingly, be less damaged then living the nightmare. I would be the person I left, with many of the friends I had, instead of a phantom of my former self feigning interest in dwindling relationships. And even though that person lacked self-confidence and hated more than she loved, I liked that girl a lot. I might be 'stuck' with the mentality of my 22-year old self, which is probably not ideal... but that would be okay; I could make that work.

Before I left I valued happiness. I didn't need a 'rock-the-boat' night, in turn, a wasted two-year experience, to teach me how to work for happiness. I didn't need to be stripped entirely of control, to learn to manage my control issues. I didn't need to see the pain, work through the loss, and rebuild entirely new beliefs. In this season, I'm angry; I'm not able to care about anything the way I used to... I'm cold and mean... and know it. And when I have the best of intentions, they fail me. This was not my thought process a few months ago, and it may not be five years from now, and that will be okay.

This is today. May this not be tomorrow.

Western Africa Culture

One day after I received the word of D's passing, my friends and I took a day off from outdoor activities at the Museum of Fine Arts (MFA) in Boston, Massachusetts. I am by no means a museum person, however, the experience ended up being quite reflective.

The purpose for our visit to the MFA, besides avoiding rain, was to see the Chihuly exhibit. Dale Chihuly, blind in his left eye, is the artist behind thousands of freeblown functional and sculptural glass works. If the traveling exhibit ever makes it to your area, it's phenomenal!

The museum is sectored by region--the Africa region being of most interest to me. One of the displays featured Kente cloth, native to the people of Ghana. Kente cloth is an extremely heavy, colorful material made of silk and cotton. Each color in the cloth has a symbolic meaning and the patterns vary by region (in Ghana). This cloth is scared and worn only for special occasions.

I have only traveled to four countries within Africa, though fortunately hitting three major regions. Sharing stories of traditions in Ghana (and other African nations) with friends who know very little about my time there, in light of the recent tragedy, was healing. Had D not been a part of my story, Ghana might have seemed very different. I took full advantage of this opportunity to further my own knowledge and provide insight for friends, who so patiently listen to all of my Africa ramblings.

Instead of staying in bed, ignoring this harsh world, I was able to spend time in the city honoring those in Africa who brightened my story!

Africa (can) Suck

In retrospect, at the time of my journey, Ghana was not for me. This being said, I did my best to embrace everything Ghana had to offer for an entire month. The month I spent in Western Africa was a part of my Peace Corps experience. Through my eyes I witnessed the beautiful country of Ghana. My heart was very much aware of the abundance of the love Ghanians demonstrate for complete strangers, along with one another.

In the midst of my American travels, I was stopped in my tracks with the devastating news my Ghanian host-sister had passed away. Almost immediately upon arrival, little D informed me she had sickle cell anemia. An episode related to her condition took her life. Coming from a country that struggles with stigma, honestly discussing important issues regarding personal health, and the ability to apply concepts I was blown away by D's openness. She taught me more about her disease than any college genetics class ever did. BUT not only was her knowledge of life with sickle cell anemia passed along--she shared her culture and invited me into her life. She was one of those very special people who truly captivate their audience. They don't allow anything to hold them back; they intentionally create fulfilling lives.

The news caught me way off guard; it took everything I had not to burst into tears. Sweet D touched my life in a way no one else had. Her receptiveness and responsiveness to my unique challenge of readjusting to another new African home did not phase her. There was no time for wallowing as she filled every waking minute of my Ghana time with Yahtzee, card games, jump rope, swinging on the handmade swings, sidewalk chalk, Play-Doh, and short village walks.

Now she is physically gone--it's unfair.

I wish I may, I wish I might

Happy Birthday Peace Corps! You turned old today. Here is to a wishful birthday.

You introduced me to foreign lands. Acquainted me with several dynamic people while strengthening relationships at home. Taught me how to cope with the lowest of lows. Showed me the highest of highs. Allowed me to promote peace and friendship with host country nationals. Made learning a new language fun. Encouraged me try new activities. Increased my self confidence. Opened my eyes to simplicity.

You are quite possibly the most frustrating and disorganized mess any one bureaucratic organization can claim to be. After all, it's even uncertain as to when exactly your birthday is. Today marks 50 years since you became an executive order--so it's today that I'll celebrate. It wasn't till late August (the 28th to be exact) that the first volunteers shipped off. I'd rather be celebrating from Lesotho and if it couldn't be there, where it all began. No, not at the University of Michigan, rather Ghana.

And it's only because you gave me way more than you could ever take away that my wish is your candles will burn for years to come. Beyond that I hope for positive adventures for all future volunteers--that they may never see or go through what the Peace Corps Lesotho family experienced.

Lasting Impressions

I arrive early stateside tomorrow. While most of Ghana has been trauma inducing there have been some really positive moments I would like to share:

• Briefly learning another African language and culture.
• Meeting new people, both Ghanaian and American.
• Drinking fresh coconut juice right out of the shell. Then watching machete man cut the fruit into thirds and using a scraper to eat the flesh.
• Fried ripe plantains and homemade spicy salsa!
• Watching my host family make soy milk from soy beans. What a process--all for a few cups of joy!
• Early morning runs on dusty, hilly, overgrown African roads with several children in tow shouting "obruni, obruni" (white person).
• Hours swinging under the shade tree.

• Teaching my host sister and friends how to play Yahtzee and Uno, followed by a countless number of games.
• Making country flags from Play-doh.

• A conversation with my host sister about the genetics behind her sickle cell anemia.
• Experiencing the hussle and bussle of market day in West Africa. Thousands of vendors selling trinkets and treasures--cloth, beads, wicker baskets.
• A terrific thunderstorm to entertain me on a sleepless night.
• Receiving two letters from the states.
  

Ghana, thank you for opening your arms and embracing me with lots of love in a time when I needed it most. It wasn't right for me at this point in my life, but with time I know I will crave the simplicity of your lifestyle. Your country is beautiful, your people friendly, and the atmosphere of Western African culture is indescribable--I will encourage everyone to experience in their lifetime.

Smiling Faces, Beautiful Places

There is no greater satisfaction in life than meeting new people; young or old, rich or poor, conservative or liberal, American or foreign. This past three plus months have been dark in so many ways--loosing a close friend and a dog, a dream and means to my future, overall feelings of loneliness and a general lack of understanding. Besides the tremendous amount of guilt I experience daily, there is a conflicting part of me that wants to know why me? I long for a "cure" in the sense of forward motion and the right to be happy all the time. I would not wish this on anyone.

When I look for the positive in all of this I think of all the tremendous people whom I have met along the way. The obvious: family and friends who supported and encouraged my Peace Corps vision. The volunteers coworkers I met on November 11, 2009 in Philadelphia where relationships immediately began to emerge. They served the people of Lesotho with me, we explored new places together, and eventually created the ultimate family team in what would unknowingly be my final days in Lesotho.

From September onwards there were all the medevacs I encountered in DC. New people with new stories: P from Rwanda, R from Ecuador, A from China, R from Ukraine, H from Honduras, and many more. Each person came with their own story. We could share and commiserate together; no one in Peace Corps wants their service interrupted with cancer, a broken leg, or irregular heart beats. Late nights, shared laughter, afternoon coffee all made the road to recovery less bumpy. Finally I would make my way to Ghana where I would meet 150 new faces with their own backgrounds. These would be the volunteers who would see me through my final Peace Corps days. The time spent in Ghana was much shorter than I ever could have anticipated. Even so I was able to meet several volunteers doing amazing work in Ghana, all who share an ideal for a peaceful world.

I will remember the Ghanaian people who are more hospitable than anyone group of people I have ever encountered. Their struggles and hardships in daily life will always be remembered. Even more so than that I will remember their smiling faces, loving demeanor, and ability to remain positive when everything around them might seem to be crumbling. In the words of the H family 2010 Christmas letter, it's all about your perspective.

Ghana are the days of Lesotho

I made it to Ghana! So far all my first impressions are positive. It's still Peace Corps, but it seems a tad more organized and stable. Heck, here they gave me a cell phone within minutes and access to free internet (at their office) on the second day. I also learned I can call America for a dollar per hour. That's incredible. With time send me your numbers because this go around, I'm certain I'll be phoning you. Yes, you heard correctly: the poor Peace Corps volunteer will be calling you.

It's lush, really lush and hot. Hooray! I had dinner with the acting country director, along with his wife and kids last night. Today, the doctor brought me fresh pineapple for breakfast so I could put something in my stomach and start taking malaria medications. I learned a lot about food in Lesotho, and the learning has begun here already. Pineapple is white, not yellow.

I should have the opportunity to meet some volunteers for dinner tonight. I am looking forward to that!