Blip on the Screen

10/10/2008

I’ve returned. After three weeks of visiting the U.S. I find myself back in a familiar space. Quite literally on the anniversary of my year in Togo, I flew out. To my delight and surprise, my brother thought of the brilliant plan to fly me home to surprise my mother for her 60th birthday party. So as of July when I received my flight confirmation, I had been anticipating, planning and fantasizing about my trip home. Both my brother and I couldn’t stop dreaming of the perfect plan to squeeze the maximum amount of tears out of our mother. Every time I thought about it, I got a little weepy. I also couldn’t stop thinking about the amenities I would be privy to again. The hot showers, the dishwasher, the washing machine and dryer, the supermarkets, the restaurants, the beds-- oh, the luxurious beds and most importantly, the dancing. And there was my friends to see of course. So I was pretty pumped to come home. This trip was going to be a nice way to break up my two years here in Togo.
So the plan was to fly to Portland with my two brothers since that was where my mother was celebrating her birthday. The family knew that my brothers were coming to surprise my mother, but no one had any idea that I was going to be there. So when I walked in and saw my aunts for the first time, I couldn’t hold it in any longer and we all started crying. The surprise was set up so that my mom was out shopping and when she came home she would first meet two friends from school, also a surprise. Then my aunt handed my mom a card from the three of us (her children) wishing her well and sorry we couldn’t be there to help celebrate. At which point, my oldest brother walked in, and she was happy to see him and gave him a big hug, but would kind of expect this sort of thing out of him. Then my middle brother walked in, and she was slightly more shocked since it is somewhat out of character for my middle brother to do something in that nature. She was getting a little more emotional and teetering on the point of tears. I was around the corner asking people, “Should I go? Should I go?” I was nervous, on the brink of losing it myself, and walked out. As soon as we saw each other, we both started crying. Her face was flushed red, tears streaming down her face and her hands were on her knees. We embraced. It was priceless, worth every minute of the 21-hour flight, and hopefully every penny my brother spent to get me out there. I am not sure if I will ever be able to repay him; it was beyond generous.
The entire trip was something of a marathon of visiting family and friends, running around trying to see, well, everything. It was a blur of lunches, dinners, parties, dancing, hanging out, drinking, eating, shopping, talking, blah, blah, blah. People kept asking me how I liked it, meaning Peace Corps, Togo, all of it. That was and is a difficult question to answer. Sometimes I like it, sometimes I hate it. I have good days and bad days. This thing is a bit of a rollercoaster, and we, as volunteers, can only hope that with time the valleys and the peaks of this wild ride become less and less intense and extreme. I think I have said this before that this Peace Corps thing is hard. Probably one of the hardest things I have ever done, only because there are very few breaks from it. We live it day after day, 24/7 for two years, more or less. Not many people can do this and I was saddened to learn upon my return to Togo that four new volunteers ET’ed (or Early Terminated), meaning resigned, another good friend of mine was medically separated, and three or four stagiaires or trainees left before they even became volunteers. The night I returned to Africa, after another 21-hour plane ride and severely sleep deprived, I wept. Mostly likely the cause of my angst was due to fatigue and stress, but I was suddenly stricken with the familiar dread I experienced when I first got to Togo. I thought, “Oh no. I can’t go through this again. I won’t make it.” The pain of homesickness here is like nothing I have ever experienced before and it can be crippling. That first night back I sat on the edge of the bed a sobbing, shuddering heap of self-pity thinking of only of how I wanted to jump back on the plane and go home. Fortunately, I had good enough sense to realize I probably just needed sleep, and sure enough as soon as I got back to Togo and saw my friends, I felt, well, excited to be back.
I woke up this morning happy, content with no sign of sadness in sight. I am relieved, disconcerted by the fact that so many volunteers are leaving (which totally sucks, btw), but nonetheless relieved. These next three months are going to be busy with getting back into the swing of things, starting my Girl’s Club again, doing the AIDS Bike Ride Tour, Halloween, Elections, Post Visit, GAD Meetings, Cinkase-To-Lome Girl’s Bike Ride, Thanksgiving, the new GEE/NRM Swear-In, Christmas and New Years. I am actually wondering when I am going to have time to hang out and start working in my village, but you know there’s always time in Africa. Ca va venir.