Despite the unanticipated problems with my phone, it's actually been pretty liberating to be so disconnected. I didn't realize how vital it was to get that space from home when doing something like this. It bonds the volunteers together like woah, it keeps you from pining about what you've left behind, it changes your focus, and helps you to really be present and live in the moment and be part of your environment..says the girl typing from her iPhone in her African village.
Anyway it's March 24th.
Today was a good day.
Every so often the volunteers will catch ourselves doing something awesome, or just enjoying how beautiful it is and saying something like, "You guys, can you believe we're doing yoga in Africa right now?" While this probably sounds ridiculous, it's still hard to believe that I'm a world away from what has always been my life.
And while I'm still completely confined by Peace Corps, each step we take, from MIM, to our home stay village, to our site placement is an intentional baby step for us. They are actually doing an incredible job of easing us into our lives here. And slowly exposing us to new things, rural hospitals for instance. Home stay, however, while such an amazing experience, is so regulated and limiting that I know I'll soon grow really tired of my lack of control over my own life.
For instance, we can't leave our houses after dark, which is 6pm. Also, I'm a stone's throw away from Kasungu National Park and Kasungu mountain but am forbidden to go to either because the flies in the park carry sleeping sickness, and the mountain has spitting cobras, hyenas, and Rastafarians protecting their fields of chomba. Peace Corps is pretty adamant about us avoiding both.
Boo! I want to see the animals damn it!
But yeah, man. Ultimately, I'm in Africa.
My guilty pleasure is slipping away to read a few pages of Maya Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings whenever I can, but those times are very limited. I've actually struggled quite a bit not having enough alone time- and not wanting to miss out on the time I do have with my fellow volunteers before I'm alone for real. But every experience and interaction is so rich and diverse, I'm lucky to have this problem. And it seems that being alone=loneliness is the cultural understanding which my Malawian friends will not tolerate.
Last thought of the evening,
I hate how big my presence is in this house. I only brought a back pack and two canvas shopping bags with me, however, Peace Corps keeps giving us things that we can't or aren't allowed to share. I have about 7 books from them, a water filter, bike, hoe, machete, mosquito net, mattress, pillow, bag, binder, kerosene lamp, and two blankets. I imagine we will only keep accumulating things during this time. I am now so hyper aware of all of my things, and how much space I take up. Especially because they were required to vacate one room for each of us (my entire family sleeps in one bedroom to accommodate me) and my family literally owns nothing but their houses, clothes, a few buckets, a mat to sit on to eat dinner, a few pots, and plates, and a few acres of land for growing green maize, ground nuts, and soya beans. Here I am, seemingly with everything and unable to really share it. It makes me feel very ashamed. This makes my previous understanding of inequity so real and sickeningly tangible. Except this time Im not advocating for others to have more, but for all the rest of us to have much, much less.
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