Early Termination...

Tonight is my last night alone in my house in Jirapa. I’ve decided to end my peace corps service and return to America. Tomorrow, my dearest friends, Erin and Gray are coming to say good-bye and help me put the finishing touches on the library. Then Monday, I’ll head south to say good-bye to a friend at the coast and then on to Accra and home.
There are so many things I can say about this experience its hard to know where to begin. I’m sure I’ll be digesting it for some time but tonight, in reflection, I can see so much growth that has occurred with in.
Since I was a little girl, I’ve walked around with this heavy loaded burden, filled all the way up with a need to “help people”, especially the underdog. Maybe because for part of my life, I thought I was the underdog, and then I grew up and sort of struggled to not be the underdog and felt a little guilty for those that appeared to have it rough. Coming here has sort of washed that entire burden away. Well, it washed what remained of it away.
Before coming here, I had a lot of practice in getting rid of that heavy weight, and now, its all gone.
Some of that burden has been washed away as I’ve learned how to let my family members live there own lives the way they want to and not fight for the life I think they should have. I have one family member who was in a relationship with a drug addict who continued to take her car and not return it on time, so I was called on occasion to bring her to work and holidays and things like that. Once, after leaving her at work, I drove to the guy’s house and spent an hour beating on his door until he finally answered and then I hysterically, demanded the keys from him. Much to my surprise, he handed them right over and as he did, it dawned on me that not once did he ever actually steal the car, he took it with permission, her permission, and I was fighting someone else’s battle and they were on the other team.
Here, I’ve pushed for people to want a better life, better education, equal rights, better treatment, living conditions, clean water… and on and on. But, honestly, everyone here is doing exactly what they want to be doing, and if they aren’t, then they’ll probably do something different as soon as they feel like it. As I was cleaning up the library today, a job that took much longer than I ever anticipated, I realized that it will probably go back to the way I found it in no time. Especially when I realized that previous volunteers (not peace corps) had done exactly what I was doing, a few years before. And that thought led me to the next one, which is that: so much of my need to help others has to do with pleasing something within myself. Something in me will feel more peaceful and fulfilled if everyone else is happy, healthy and pain-free. Well, guess what, sometimes the best part of life is growing through pain. (Read: Man’s Search for Meaning. That will put a little perspective into pain and the importance of each man’s journey!) Why do I always forget this? This is nothing new, I’ve been trying to rescue people since I was five years old. Once again, I sit here, realizing that I’m learning the same things over and over and I can only hope this is the last time with this particular lesson because it sure is a tough one. Its interesting how the most selfless acts are actually based on a foundation of complete self-centeredness. All along, sitting here in Ghana, reading these emails of praise and adoration for the work I’m doing here and all along something felt fraudulent. Something about the reception here and the expectation and it all feeling like I’m fighting the fight for these people but they’re fighting on the other team and that somehow I was fighting more for myself than for them. This is especially apparent in the greed and dishonesty that exists with grant writing and proposals. I could write a book exposing the careless mismanagement of funds donated to the “developing world”. Its really sad. Everyone’s fighting to give these suffering people welfare so that they can go and buy the newest cell phone and dvd player with surround sound. I remember feeling this way in college while I worked and payed taxes and my single-mother friend was coasting along on a free ride to college, living on welfare and buying $400 boots. Its basically the same thing.
I rode in bus a few months ago that was smuggling wheat flour. The wheat was donated to Ghana Education System by Catholic Relief Services and then sold to the black market by the headmasters then it was smuggled all over the country. Easy money from foreign aid. It’s the foundation of this country and its accepted by everyone, even peace corps. Everyone just jokes about it and shrugs and rolls there eyes. Well, I can’t. I just can’t. its sort of breaking my spirit.
I suppose part of me coming here was to learn this, and many other lessons, but this one is huge. I feel lighter than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.
I don’t feel the need to sacrifice anything for anyone anymore. This doesn’t mean I won’t help people. My entire life’s goal is to help people, to guide people to find their heart’s desire, to help them to express their true nature through art and dance and yoga and meditation or through my writing. But now I know I’m free to do it or not do it or do it at my leisure. Or even walk away and do something totally different if one day I feel like it.
I no longer feel this weight that was always sitting atop my chest, making me do this or that, preventing me from being free.
The thing about it all, thought, is that if someone asked if I’d do it all over again, come and live here and discover all of this, I’d say yes, in a second. And if anyone wants to know whether or not I think they should try development work for themselves, I say yes, do it. Your lessons may be different from mine and mine have all been worth every single moment. It’s the experience that’s the point and so just like all the others I’ve had, I have absolutely no regrets. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be and I’m so excited about what life has in store for me next.

Bike ride with Mayumi

I took a bike ride and it touched my soul. I’m not exaggerating. It was an experience I’d always dreamed of. Bike riding through the country side, fields of wild, green grass so lush, that it appeared to be a sea of green waves rolling in the wind. Stopping in small villages along the way for refreshment, meeting locals and being offered water. All of it I dreamed of, I just thought I’d be in Europe, naturally, not in Ghana. I mean first of all, the green was so unexpected. And then, the bike ride was 40 kilometers, beginning in Jirapa, where I live! So this beautiful country side exists right here (only during the rainy season, but still, it right here!)

We rode to three villages and the ride lasted nearly all day. Then we hitched a ride half way home and waited and waited for a ride the rest of the way (Mayumi was giving her bike away before heading back to Holland so we had to find a ride back to Jirapa, only having one bike now). The only transport that came along was an enormous tipper (dump) truck. They offered and we accepted, threw the bike in and climbed up. We were as tall as the tops of the trees in the back of this enormous monster truck. We along with about 10 other Ghanaians and the sun went down and the stars came out and we bumped along these red dirt roads watching a lightning storm off in the distance. We shook and rattled along for two hours and when we finally arrived, I felt like scrambled eggs must feel when being served for breakfast.

My legs hurt in a way I never imagined they could, so much so that at 2 am, i was angrily standing, half-asleep, in the dark, rubbing my thighs and feeling like Charlie’s horses were trapped in both of them. Such a terrible thing to wake up to! I finally, against my better judgment, took a few ibuprophen and the next thing I saw was the sun and my legs felt fine.

Reading

Well, I’ve already mentioned Mutant Message Down Under by Marlo Morgan and how wonderful I felt that story was but I must mention it again. I’ve also recently read Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl, excellent book, I highly recommend it. Also, I read my favorite story of all time, funny enough, I’d never read the original version of it, Peter Pan, by James Barrie, such a great book. He was so clever and witty and magical in his writing. Its really for adults more than children and I sort of swam around in its magic for a week or so. Also, a light and fun book I read, one that made me laugh several times out loud, About a Boy, by Nick Hornby, great little story, heart warming and fun.