I’m not sure what this post is about. I’m wary that it’ll turn into a big jumble of complaining. Most likely it’ll be a word-vomit/stream of consciousness heave marinating in the theme of irritability. I apologize ahead of time, feel free to skip this post – I promise another one in the next few weeks when I’m not so grumbly.
There are various topics I’ve started jotting down thoughts about over the past few weeks (and five half hashed out drafts in my blog to prove it), but now that I have 30 minutes to get a post up before my last stay in Fodé Bayo ever, where to start? What to talk about? I’ve been trying to put a bit more thought and effort into my blog posts as means of avoiding “English is my second language in Senegal” speak, but given the number of issues bouncing around in my head lately, I’ve had a difficult time sitting down and cohesively wording any of them (clearly).
Then there’s the whole bleh aspect of blogging on the “woe is me” theme. Ironic I know, since usually PC blogs are about the PCV writing them; they tend to be a little me me me me me focused (as I know mine is, sorry, I’ve tried to talk about things around me and not just myself… don’t know how successful that’s been) – an egocentric theme in addition to the consistent feedback from the outside our PC lands that lives along the lines of “You’re so brave!” “You’re so selfless!” “I could never do what you’re doing!”… PCV blogs can tend to get a little tiny violin-y. So, since a lot of what has been on my mind as of late is about people leaving and the mental/emotional difficulties of leaving site and the shitstorm that is turning out to be my final project and general life snafus, I’ve held back from writing because I didn’t want to ride the Whiney Amanda Train for 800 words. Did any of this paragraph make sense?
Whenever I’ve start writing about one of these such frustrations and stop to review my draft, the first thing that comes to mind (besides “jesus you can’t write for beans anymore”) is usually “shut up get over it Amanda no one wants to read about your complaints.” Blah blah blah you’re leaving site, it’s hard, you’ve been there for two years… blarbity blarb final project is indefinitely delayed as a metal shortage in Senegal is demanding that posts be ordered in person in Dakar, then driven all the live long way down to Kolda and the FB, which means interrupting your extension position to go back into vil to finish fence installation… blerg I’m having second thoughts about my extension – the job, but not just that – the other aspects of life that I want to embrace while living in Dakar as well… le tiny violin I really really want to take a vacation to some of the Cape Verde islands before home leave in July to visit some PCV friends there before they COS but with the 3rd year job and now having to return to the FB and the money issue of working on volunteer pay the past two years, it is looking less and less likely to happen… le whiney whine my home leave is already getting stressful with all that needs to happen in five weeks: seeing people stretched all over the states, replacing everything I own since everything I own here is on its last leg: computer, drive, camera; I have no proper business clothing; I need Africa-sun-damaged moles removed; wanting to just disappear with each of my friends when I get home and live with them for a week in order to reconnect, feeling like I’m not going to have enough time to properly do any of the above… womp womp I’m leaving village and it’s going to be weird. Difficult. Hard. Je m’excuse I can’t stretch my vocabulary beyond the middle school level so I’m having difficulties explaining exactly about how I’m feeling about this especially.
Begezus. Even listening to myself write about all it makes me irritated and stressed out and uninterested, so I can only imagine how all of my woes read to you at home.
I really do have nothing to say, because I have too much to say, and delving into any one topic makes me want to go to sleep instead of thought spelunking.
All of this mind clutter is starting to affect my normal run of life as well, causing me to make dufus decisions since I’m currently unable to completely focus on any one thing. I left all of my important Close of Service medical documents who knows where in the PC office (ok not a huge deal but considering the office is similar to a black hole, could be a problem); I left my phone and headlamp (equivalent of my left and right arm in Senegal) in the Tamba house and will not be getting either back until May 3 or 4; then having these 17 itchy-as-all-get-out mosquito bites is like jamming your toe on when entering your apartment after a day where absolutely everything has gone wrong. You know how the little things build up all day long, then something little (walk walk walk STUB) sends you off because it just is the icing on the cake (cue: DAMNIT expletiveexpletiveexpletive).
And my village… I’ve been planning this big Mandinka festival, where we’re bringing in a Kora player (the traditional Mandinka guitar-like instrument) and a Mandinka drummer, cooking a ton of oily rice and maybe even killing a goat, and everyone’s getting dressed up and coming from every village I’ve ever worked with (I even got a fancy new outfit made)…. And that’s getting all chaotic as well (amplified by the fact that I don’t have my phone and can’t talk to my counterpart who’s helping to plan it all). So at this point, I have no idea if the Kora player is even coming, if the other villages still think it’s going down and whatever whatever.
Besides doing something fun for the village for my leaving, I’ve been wanting to have this party so that volunteers from the area could come and experience Mandinka culture. It’s been a two-year long running joke – my Mandinkaness and how I’m the only volunteer in Kolda who speaks Mandinka – how I can’t understand what everyone else as saying (ha ha ha ha HA), but all jokes aside, I really want to do something that my fellow volunteers who have grown to be my family outside of my village family can experience and enjoy as well. Being the only Mandink means that I’m the only one experiencing this amazing culture, and I want them to be a part of it as well.
Right in line with how things are going though, none of the ten volunteers that I really want to come can attend. Everyone’s in Dakar or on vacation or at Master Farmer trainings or on med leave or coming back the day after the fete. Initially this had me really upset, but at this point I’m getting numb to shit flinging off the fan. I had visions of a bunch of volunteers dancing around my village with my vil family, eating and drumming the night away, then staying up late in my hut talking and laughing… but that one’ll have to stay as a wistful apparition. Assuming the party still happens, it’ll still be wonderful to have it with my family and village and all of our Mandinka relations. There will just be no one there to photograph (photos of me in my village are such a rarity! I was counting on someone coming to take some fun shots. Oh well) but it’ll still be fun and I’m sure extremely memorable.
Oi spazzness. Please don’t take this too seriously either – I’m ok – I’m not curled up in a ball of frustration and depression. The frank picture is more along the lines of me grumbling and stomping around the Kolda house, sneering at my computer and pile of “to dos” everywhere. This post was hatched from the few of you who’ve been asking me about all that’s going on and how I’m dealing and so on and so forth. Yes – this is my less than eloquent attempt at answering those questions. But as things seem to do here, I’m sure it’ll all work out and be just fine. I’m just going through waves of thinking about everything too much and letting it all build up and up until I get overwhelmed…. and then it all just blends together and doesn’t bother me (writing this post has brought me to that point). I’m sure by the time my iPod powered bike ride to the FB is finished, I’ll be back to Ñamoo.
A bientôt my friends, I shall see you on May 4, when I have moved out of my round little home in the bush for good. Le big sad face.
