Recently, I
had a pretty average day.
I got up in
the morning, made lunch, ate breakfast, and went to school. My friend's
daughter went to school with me, since she couldn't go with her mom that day.
She went into detail about wanting to buy two pieces of cake from the school
fundraiser. One for me, one for her. However, considering the fundraiser didn't
raise anything other than expectations, she bought me a lolipop instead.
When I got
home, I visited a family to deliver a seed ring I'd carved for the mother. I also
carried 5 lolipops to reward the kids for learning their sight words. I left
with 4 lolipops. Only the eldest son, who I taught in school last year, knew
most of the words. The family was sweet, as always, and unloaded all their
curiosity about America. I'd forgotten about the phone I gave the family, until
the father brought it out, proclaiming it was named "white girl" in
my honor.
At night, I
went to my friend's house, saw her daughter again, and exercised. We've been
exercising almost every night for about 3 months. At first my friend couldn't
really do any squats or pushups or even plank, but that night she did 100
pushups.
When I went
home, there were already some little boys at my house, watching an action movie
on my computer. I'd given the three brothers permission to use it at night
time, and after a couple tutorials, they quickly learned how to navigate to the
movies they wanted.
When I
finally crawled under my mosquito net that night, I was exhausted. I collapsed
into the thin foam mattress, smiling.
Two years
ago, when my friend and I first moved into site, we had a discussion I'll never
forget. She said she just wanted to not feel uncomfortable 100% of the time.
Even being comfortable like 1% of the time would be great, I'd agreed.
Back then, I
couldn't imagine what an average day in my village would look like. I only knew
the constant uncomfortableness of being in a place I didn't belong in, and
trying to make myself at home. I'm so glad I got to stay. When most people
think about successfully completing Peace Corps, there are a lot of things they
don't really consider. Yes, some of it does have to do with determination and
adaptability and all that. But, some of it is just luck. I'm really lucky to
live in the village I do. To have the friends I do.
The other
night, one of my Wakapoa BFFs and I were talking. We said we didn't know what
we're going to do without each other. We've been so lucky to meet and grow
close, but our homes will always be an ocean apart. I am a part of Wakapoa for
now, and Wakapoa will always be a part of me. And as much as I love it, I want
to gaze on the Rockies, hear the robins singing, and memorize the smiles on my
parents faces. I love Wakapoa, but my roots are far from here, and I must
return to them.
The question
I hear daily has been: will you come back? The voices are hopeful when they
ask, but their eyes look like they know better. I hope I will. I want it
fiercely but I won't know until I do it. We were warned, early on, that the
beginning and the ending of service would be the hardest. At the beginning, I
was uncertain if I would complete my two years. Now, there's no doubt about me
leaving and pursuing new goals. But I have no idea what they'll be. However, the
certainty of the farewell does not make it any easier to say goodbye.
But, I'm
incredibly lucky. Ten years ago, I never dreamed I'd be able to say I have
loved and been loved by an amazing community, tucked on a winding creek in
South America.
When people
ask me if I'll remember Wakapoa, I only laugh. It's my home away from home. Its
where I learned to cook roti, and ate many wild animals. It's where I played a
lot of football, and broke a couple toes, totally unrelated. It's where I learned to bruck it down and one drop. Its
where I learned I am NOT faster than your average child. It's where I taught everything from the ABCs
to how to do a pushup. It's where I learned lessons I'm still unfolding.
Wakapoa is where I grew into a better version of myself.
Looking back
over the past two years, I remember the ups and downs, when I laughed, and when
I cried. But, mostly, I remember how it felt to belong to a community.
Connection is a basic human need, which can so often become downplayed in this
modern age. But, belonging to something, and feeling that sense of community,
of compassion, that is something I wouldn't trade for the world. And, even
though I'm leaving Wakapoa soon, it will always be in my heart. Of this I am sure.
