May 3rd, 2010
Well, I’m back. From America ...fuck... At least that’s how I felt when I landed on the plane in Bamako. I sat there frozen, enjoying the last little bits of recycled cold air, gripping the arm rests and staring forward at the blank TV screen while everyone else unloaded. My trip home was so surreally wonderful I had forgotten everything remotely good and rewarding about Africa, Peace Corps and my village. But today - after a week of hiding out between friends’ houses and the stage house in Bamako, delaying the inevitable – I made the journey back to site. The hardest part truthfully is the anticipation of coming back. What has or hasn’t changed since I’ve been away? Will my people be mad at me for staying away for more than a month? Those hesitations, teamed with pining away for the American distractions that whisked me away from certain realities and tempted me to stay away from Africa again. Take a hint, Jessie(!); sick grandma, coup des ta, VOLCANO!??? I guess I can’t say that I heed much caution to signs, no matter how blatant.
But here I am. In my bed, under a mosquito net, fan blasting for another 45 minutes before the power cuts out for the day. And I think I’m OK. My saving grace? The “wet noodle” which is a wet piece of cloth, continuously dunked in a bucket of water by my bed then draped over me as I lay in the 100+ degree heat, trying to doze off. I was told about this technique at the beginning of training while older volunteers boasted about how they got through hot season. I remember thinking it sounded ridiculously soggy and uncomfortable, but it is in fact, divine… It’s so effective that it has me feeling like the rest of hot season just might be bearable.
When I climbed down off the bus onto my street, toting my guitar case and back pack, I searched the road for a familiar face. While I didn’t recognize anyone right away, they all knew me. “Traore!” (my Malian last name) “In I fama!” (it’s been a while) rang out from under thatched hangars that lined my street and I looked ahead in the near distance, fixated on the entrance to my concession. Then as I had hoped and secretly feared, the children came running down the street to greet me and grab my bags, all too heavy for their little frail, boy sized old man frames. Two took my guitar case, almost toppling over as they hoisted it proudly on their shoulders. “Alima na na!!” (Alima has come). They chanted. As soon as I crossed the threshold into my house, greeted by my Mango tree with fruit the size of my head, host dad Brahma and his colleague Dada ironing clothes in the shop next door, I knew I was home. Or at least I can call it that for the next 17 months.
No matter how resistant I was to returning to Mali and finishing up the 2/3rds I have left of service I knew there had to be something real pulling me back, and I remembered as soon as I set foot in my village. I have a family and real friends here. I may not have the most motivation to start projects, build a school, dig a well, or save the world, but I’m making real connections with people that I know in time will pay off. Even if its 5-10-20 years post my service, I’ll know that my time spent here was important to me and the people I’ve met. And who knows, I may save a baby or two.
I have spent the last month in gluttony, vacationing back in the states to see my family, eat real food, drink real beer and reconnect with my American self, who I didn’t know how much I had missed. The best part of all is that being around everyone was effortless and I don’t feel like I’ve missed a beat. Volunteers hear from the past that upon returning home, there is a disconnect between yourself and the people you left behind. But I strongly disagree. If there was one thing missing the most from my life in the first 10 months in Africa, it was being with the people who knew me before all of this. My new friends here, while important and wonderful, have no frame of reference to my personality prior to coming to Mali, and it was nice to come home to familiar and heartwarming faces. Thank you everyone who I saw and talked to while I was home. It was great to see everyone and I’m excited to come back to you some day.
