I am not done with my Peace Corps service
yet, in fact I have 43 days left in country. However, I am already on a roller coaster of feelings that I will try to put into words because in my mind
that’s the only way to sort through how I’m feeling. I just got back to site
from spending a week with my fellow group members at our COS conference (for
those of you not versed in Peace Corps acronyms, that means Close of Service).
We spent a few days at a resort sitting through some sessions about how to
close out our service at site and with Peace Corps (if you think there’s a lot
of paperwork to get into PC, you should see the amount required to leave…) and
how to handle our Peace Corps service after with resumes, graduate school, and
NCE (Non-competitive eligibility for jobs). Those were helpful sessions, but the
real fun came when we got to talk about, share, and revel in our experiences
with both Peace Corps and our communities. I got to hear sad, funny, and
inspirational stories from my fellow volunteers service, as well as share my
own.
I
have not always felt close to the rest of my group. I found a few close friends
and tended to hang out with them for my service and when we would get together
for trainings. Our entire group split into little cliques pretty early on and
although none of us outwardly disliked anyone else, we didn’t always push
ourselves out of our comfort zones and little friend groups. This conference
however, I tried to eat meals with and talk to people I had never had
conversations with, and I’m glad I did, because I came away with even more
stories and laughed more than normal with my fellow volunteers I would not have
been close to if not for this week.
My
group came into country with 70 people, and at our COS conference we were down
to 45. People left for various reasons, from realizing Ethiopia and Peace Corps
just wasn’t for them, to pursuing other dreams, to having to leave because of
medical reasons. They will always be a part of G11, no matter when they might
have left in service. However, the 45 of us that made it to our COS conference
showed me the strength that I also seem to possess, even when I didn’t realize
I did. Although I might not have been super close to everyone, I’m so glad to
be a part of the group I was. I found some of my best friends here, and my
Tigray group is the best regional group I could have asked for. The people I
served with have shown me kindness, patience, inspiration, new perspectives,
and have made me a better person because I knew them.
I
applied to Peace Corps because I wanted to teach in a different country, I
wanted to do something different with my life, and I wanted to learn about and
experience a new culture and community. I had never traveled outside of the
country (besides 2 weeks in Costa Rica), I went to college in the same city I
grew up in, and I had never moved. I came to Ethiopia about a month and a half
after graduation, and I was completely terrified. I said goodbye to my mom,
stepdad, dad, and brother in the airport and I was a mess. My brother started
crying (he doesn’t normally show many emotions) and I almost didn’t go through
security. I got on the plane to Washington D.C. and because I got there the
night before we had to be there for staging, I hung out with some of my group
at dinner that night, but I think I was so terrified that I don’t remember much
from there.
We
had a day of sessions (who knew that would be my next 2.5 months?) with a giant
layout/overview of Peace Corps and Ethiopia. They told us that if we had any
doubts about whether we could do this to go talk to them after the sessions.
Instead of doing that, I went to dinner with a couple of girls in my group for
a giant sushi meal and then called my parents and bawled my eyes out. I again,
almost told them to book me a flight from Washington D.C. to Albuquerque
because I didn’t want to get on the plane to Ethiopia. I was terrified,
exhausted, nervous, and sad. Nothing about my feelings were happy or excited.
However, my parents gave me the tough love I needed. They told me to get on the
plane. They told me that I would regret if I didn’t. If I got there, got a few
weeks or months in and decided I couldn’t do it that I could come home with no
judgment, but that I couldn’t give up before I tried. And man, I’m sure glad
they told me that, because they were right (like always). I would have
regretted it everyday if I had not gotten on that plane, lived here for 2
years, and had this incredible experience.
My
service is coming to an end. Although I have less than 2 months left in
Ethiopia I have even less time left at my site, Adwa. I have to go to Addis
Ababa for COS medical (again with all the paperwork), I’m participating in a
Peace Corps camp, and then I am helping with G15 practicum (Crazy that the new
babies are in country!). I have less than 3 weeks left in Adwa between now and
when I leave Ethiopia. Some days, when the power is out (thank you rainy
season….) and I feel like I don’t have anything to do, I just want to be back
in America. I want to be able to turn on the TV and watch whatever trashy show
is on, text my friends without worrying about having to reload my phone with
birr, and snack on fresh fruits and veggies. However, I know that those are all
things I will have soon, but that the experiences I have had here can never be
replicated.
I
had some really difficult moments in my service, I had quite a few times where
I considered calling the Country Director and telling him I was leaving, and I
cried myself to sleep more times than I can count. I had a few mental
breakdowns, many times where I texted or called my best friends in country and
they had to calm me down, and I lost it on my land family, students, and random
people on the street a few times. The days went by super slowly, even weeks
did, but the months and now years went by quickly. Looking back, I can’t
believe I have actually been living in Ethiopia for 2 years. I’m not going to
say this was easy, because the past 2 years have been the most difficult of my
life. Being away from friends and family when I was going through something or
when they were (both good and bad) was difficult. Having to adjust to a
completely new culture, adapting and integrating into a new community, learning
a new language, teaching in a sometimes difficult atmosphere, and doing all of
this on my own is probably the craziest thing I ever could have done.
However,
with all of those downsides come things that make me smile, made me grow, and
made these the most difficult, but also the most rewarding two years of my
life. Yes, there were some days I went to bed crying, but the days I went to
bed or woke up with a smile on my face outnumber them. The days that I spent
coloring and playing patty cake with the toddlers in my compound, the days I
talked with the guys at the post office while they sorted through letters and
packages, the market days I got to chat with my students selling food while
buying my own. I measure my life here in smiles, cups of coffee, kids smiles,
pieces of chalk, plates of injira eaten (and not eaten), mugs of beer, shouts
of “Kelsey!!!” and many other things that aren’t measurable, but are just as
important. The amount of times I texted my friends about sadness and hardship,
I texted them more about random, silly moments that happened to me that made me
happy or confused (that happened more…) that only fellow Peace Corps Volunteers
would understand.
I
might have moved across the world, left everything I knew, and lived in a new
place for 2 years, but that was the best thing I could have done for myself. My
friends back home are working, getting married, and starting families. That’s
amazing for them, but that’s not for me (yet). Some people find their home with
a steady foundation, but I realized with this experience that my home is
through confusion and new-ness. I used to get stressed with not knowing what
was going on, I would get frustrated with the dysfunction (or what I took that
to be), and I would get furious with cultural differences that seemed to come
on with no reason (such as being “the firenji”, being a woman, and just being
different here). However, through the hardships and the good times I began to
embrace the differences. I realized that to survive and be happy in my service
I had to change my perspective on my community and the moments that I could
either struggle through or embrace.
I
might have not always had a sunny outlook on my experience, my community, and
my life, but I found a way to flip my experiences into learning times, and my
outlook into positivity. Sitting here and trying to figure out how to put my
feelings and experiences into words, I realized there is no way to. One of our
sessions at COS conference was “How to reach 3rd goal”, which means
how do we share the culture of Ethiopia and our service back home. I think
every RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer) struggles with that, I know I
certainly will.
How
can I explain to people back home that yes I had a crazy girl through a shoe at
me, but that everyone around me immediately stepped in and helped me, that I
had kids I had to throw out of class and I even made a few kneel, but I had
more who walked hours to school everyday and couldn’t wait to participate in my
activities, that I had people talk about me at weddings about my weight, that I
wasn’t married, and that I was white (they thought I couldn’t understand them),
but that I had more talk to me, give me sewa, and then pull me up to shoulder
dance and laughed (at as well as with) me when I threw up my hands and just
decided to look ridiculous. How can I explain chickens under seats and goats on
top of mini buses, that coffee ceremonies can take hours but is my favorite
part of the culture, that kids can entertain themselves for days with a rock
and a piece of wire, or that power might go out regularly but that there is
always food given when they realize you don’t have any? How do I explain that
kids as young as kindergarten walk to school by themselves because parents know
they will be watched by everyone on the street? How do I explain that my
students cheat, but they don’t do it to be malicious but because they genuinely
want to help their friends? How do I explain that the sense of community and
caring is more than anywhere else I have ever experienced?
I
might have not wanted to get on the plane to go to Washington DC for staging, I
might have struggled to get on the plane to go to Ethiopia, I might have had a
hard time coming back after visiting home last summer because I made some great
memories with my family and friends while visiting, but I’m grateful everyday
that I did all of those steps and am here. A lot of people didn’t think I would
make it 2 years, and honestly, I had my doubts in myself. But now that my 2
years are coming to an end my emotions are all over the place.
I’m excited to go home to
people and things, like salads and washing machines. I’m ready to get into a
routine for a bit. But I’m not ready to leave this place I have come to call my
home. Whenever I leave for trainings or vacation and then come back, I get
excited to walk to my house to the cheers of the kids, the smiles of suk
owners, the cheek kisses of friends, and the hugs of my land ladies. The weird
moments have become my normal, and I’m not ready to leave that yet. I know
these will always be in my mind as memories, I know I’m incredibly blessed to
have been able to have this as a part of my life and to have met all the amazing
people I did, but I’m getting sad with having to leave the people who have
become my friends and family, and the place I have learned to call home through
it all.
So
when people ask how I’m feeling about this ending, I can honestly say I’m not
really sure. It’s all a surreal experience, and I’m sure it will be this way
for awhile. I’m trying not to concentrate on the negative, but instead focus on
the positive and the future and how the lessons I learned on this journey will
help me in my future endeavors.
