Still being called Tubab

My apologies for the delay on new blogs. A lot has been going on personally, my mind cluttered with things that I just couldn’t find blog-appropriate words for. With a pretty solid plan for the rest of my service, I’ve been recently thrown for some loops. A potentially serious relationship ended, because of just that- it was getting potentially serious. A position I thought I had locked, Health Trainer for the July-September training for new volunteers, was given to someone else. And I’m left now with a month of village work left, and 4 more months of floundering until I go home, to do some more floundering.
We all want purpose, and I believe we all have purpose. In the hot hours of the day when the rest of the village is sleeping or sipping tea, I spend a lot of time alone, just writing or thinking. We want purpose for what? Ourselves? Our society? God? We are happiest when we’re busy, entrusted with a great task, and then praised for our good work. But here I am among people who are perfectly at peace of mind drinking tea and surrendering their afternoon to the sizzling, hypnotic sun. I, on the other hand, am restless. I’m running so much, thinking so much of home, obsessively trying to map my life’s route sans destination. Without always 4realizing it, I’m missing Irene, who had some sort of larger-than-life way about everything that kept days at the CSCOM moving. Here in Dombila, we got some work done. We have a little work left to do. But can I really sit here in my hut going crazy through the slow rainy season?
I have some traveling I want to do, but I feel site guilt even now. I’ve worked but I want to work more. Tireless determination. It’s something I long for but it easily fails to launch in 113 degree heat. I want to go to hidden stone villages of Dogon country, and out to Uganda to solve some mysteries regarding an AIDS victim that has haunted my thoughts for four years. I want to run, run, run. And then, I want to go home. My friends are extending their services in other countries: Hunter’s off to China, Caroline to Nicaragua, Chris to Fiji, and others are looking for jobs or preparing for grad school. I could be off somewhere- there are plenty of opportunities for me in Africa and beyond. I could search for a job in a city as I’m preparing for grad school in 2011. But right now, and I know I might change my mind, I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than home.
At least there are mangos. More than imaginable. We’ve had short passing wind storms that whip dust into your face and drop mangos like bombs all around. You literally have to duck and cover. I meticulously solar dry the fruit, with the admiration but reluctance to participate from my Malian neighbors.
There is still plenty to keep me busy for a while. School is still in session, and we’re finishing up the health lessons, preparing for the mural project, and training the high schoolers for their physical education final exam (in long jump, shot put, and 100m dash). We have a couple of wells left to finish, as well as a big finale to the project, an evaluation and goal-setting two day conference with Peace Corps Volunteers. We’re supervising the community health workers more closely, and have their first official report review on Thursday. My new homologue and I attended a week long training session at Tubaniso, and returned with more ideas on nutrition and food security. Lauren is also busy raising money for new desks at her school (you can donate through www.peacecorps.gov), launching a soap formation, and training adult literacy teachers.
I’ve been filling up journals, trying to foresee the ending of this story instead of living it. I’m taking it day by day, even now. In truth, I’m terrified of the transition, and I’m longing for some structure and plan. But I have to accept that I’m still on an adventure, and these strange dust storms come at unexpected times. I am not sure where I’ll end up, and why. I just hope that, underneath the scattered and thirsty dirt roads I run, there is purpose.