I haven’t written a reflective post in a while because I don’t feel like I can muster up – and I certainly don’t want to fake – the idealism and optimism that I attempted to characterize my prior posts with. Over the last year and a half, I feel like I’ve become pessimistic and cynical. Or perhaps just realistic and fatalistic. Either way – the way I view the world has changed, and I often smirk at myself thinking of the rose-tinted lens through which I used to view life. Despite this shift, which I would not reverse for the world, I hope – I think – I’m still able to take life as it comes with a sense of humor, humility and passion. This is how I aspire to live.
“Shooting video from behind the window of a tourist van is not how you get to know a place, or how you come to love a country that is not your own. It’s when you learn the language, can walk through the cities and rural villages alone, crave the local food, and feel personally pained when a local tragedy occurs. It’s when you realize you prefer shopping at a local market over getting food from a grocery store. And when you realize that local and national legislation have individual pertinence and personal application. For me, it’s when wearing a wrap skirt is more natural and comfortable to me than jeans. It’s when I act on the urge to wander off by myself into the largest market in East Africa, wanting the chance to practice bargaining in Kiswahili, and prove to myself that I in fact can be fine on my own.” I wrote that sometime in early 2009, probably just over a year ago, as a reflection upon observing tourists in a safari van video tapping the passing scenery. I still feel a lot of that way, but like I said earlier – with a more realistic tinge. I haven’t worn a skirt in months, preferring my countlessly-patched jeans; a minor tangible display of my shifted conduct with the world.
I no longer find the hoards of school children running alongside me cute. I want to dig myself a hole and crawl into it after I curl into a ball from the constant attention. I am so thoroughly disappointed and disgusted with an overbearing chunk of organized religion that I have trouble even considering the positive implications of its existence. I relish the chance to occasionally wear make-up, go to a gym, bake with an oven, dress like I did in the States, and drink an iced latte with soy milk – all while remaining anonymous and unobserved. My patience with being objectified as a source of money, a potential wife, a novel acquaintance wears thin quicker than it used to. I no longer feel like I must please everyone, be everyone’s friend, constantly fear offending someone, or always putting my thoughts and feelings last. I speak up more often, and I don’t pretend to be ok with something or someone when I’m not. And while I remain respectful while doing so, I also feel better – healthier – about the way I conduct myself with the people around me. It’s a more honest existence.
All that being said, I’m still in love with living here in Kenya; I love the adventure, the challenge, the constant sense of growth and learning. As my months of Peace Corps service are dwindling, thoughts about future endeavors plague many sleepless nights and render me an insomniac. The more I look for answers, the further away they seem. As Richard Leakey wrote in Origins Reconsidered, “Absolute truth is like a mirage: it tends to disappear when you approach it. One of the most important lessons for me during these years is my learning that, passionately through I may seek certain answers, some will remain, like the mirage, forever beyond my reach.” It is such reflections I hope will foster humility, and allow me satisfaction with discovering even shards of answers to so many unanswerable questions.
In the mean time, as I figure out what 2011 will bring to my life’s table and my ever-evolving views of the world and people in it morph, I foresee myself following in Leakey’s footsteps and taking “…a wild gamble, the kind you take when the arrogance of youth blinds you to the likelihood that you will almost certainly lose.” Considering I’m attempting to quell such ‘arrogance’ with humility and illuminate ‘youthful blindness’ through experience, I suppose ought to take my gamble before such lessons in maturity catch up to me, what do you reckon?
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This entry really resonates with me, especially the part where you list the things you love about living in Kenya. That pretty much sums up how I felt about my Peace Corps experiences -- unpleasant and painful at times, but often interesting and always educational.
ReplyDeleteHang in there!! As you say, losing the rose-colored glasses isn't a bad thing. There's a big difference between trying to stay positive, which is a good thing, and focusing ONLY on the positive, which can hamper your progress and eventually backfire.