So many different things were happening every day in Africa that I couldn’t write them down fast enough. Our days were a whirlwind of startling new experiences, and activities. The excitement and energy that flowed through home base was electric, although tampered with great moments of sadness at distressing things we’d witnessed. It often seemed that in Tanzania you could see the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen and the most difficult, all in the same moment. And that could possibly be every moment. The poverty constantly sent everyone into emotional over load. Africa is very complex. It would take years to even begin to understand the complicated nature of this continent. I watched as my fellow volunteers poured their hearts into their work, trying to make even a small difference in the quality of life for these beautiful people. They loved every moment of their time spent at CCS. But something very different was happening to me.
As I landed in Africa, something in me was altered, and it continued to plague me as the weeks went on. I went through the activities and events with awe and wonder, but I was not myself at all. I realized this had become evident when several of my fellow volunteers called me “the quiet one”. I’m sure those of you who know me could not ever imagine this happening, and I myself was shocked. Quiet is something I have never been called in my life, but I realized it was true. I had been quiet, and they didn’t know otherwise about me. Words would not come to my feelings, and I couldn’t figure out what was happening. I found myself deep in thought at times analyzing the moment, rather than living it as I had always done before. I’ve always been passionate about life, and been one who would dive right in one hundred percent, but instead I was numb.
One morning my roommate Nancy asked me how I had slept the night before. As I said the words, “not very well”, I slumped back on the bed, and the secret of my feelings came pouring out.
“Lucetta, I think you may be getting a little ahead of yourself. You’ve only been here for a short while.”
“But the others are already bonding with the people here and with Moshi. I admire the African women and I want to fight for their plight, but I don’t feel anything.”
“First of all, the others only have three or six or twelve weeks here, they have to bond quickly. Second, it’s a very different experience for the rest of us. We have come here as an interlude to our lives, while you have come here as a way to begin a new life.”
“But, I thought I was going to come here and this would be where my heart was for two years.”
“Maybe you’re putting too much pressure on yourself to make this particular situation work.”
“But this was my plan."
“Perhaps you need a new plan. Maybe Africa is right for you, but it’s somewhere else, doing something different. “
I felt some relief, as I realized I had not even considered thinking outside of the box. Also, when I remembered that she was a psychiatric nurse.
“Why am I feeling this way while I am in the middle of one of the most amazing experiences ever? I don’t understand. When my previous life was obliterated a year and a half ago, I went to Costa Rica to have a meltdown and to heal, so that by the time I got to Africa there would be something of me to give. These people have nothing and I have everything.
“Did you have a meltdown?”
“No. I loved every minute of it and had a fabulous time.”
She smiled, “Did you really think you could put your emotions on a schedule?”
It became apparent that my meltdown had come not in the form of sobs; I had done enough of that during year one, but in the form of an emotional shut down, not in Manuel Antonio, but in Moshi, Tanzania. My heart was closed up, a knot in my chest. I was afraid to fall in love with this place or these people because I would risk being hurt again, and my wounds were still so raw I couldn’t bear another painful experience. But why now, when I want to help? I was riddled with guilt at not being on top of my game for these deserving people.
“Lucetta, I think you may be getting a little ahead of yourself. You’ve only been here for a short while.”
“But the others are already bonding with the people here and with Moshi. I admire the African women and I want to fight for their plight, but I don’t feel anything.”
“First of all, the others only have three or six or twelve weeks here, they have to bond quickly. Second, it’s a very different experience for the rest of us. We have come here as an interlude to our lives, while you have come here as a way to begin a new life.”
“But, I thought I was going to come here and this would be where my heart was for two years.”
“Maybe you’re putting too much pressure on yourself to make this particular situation work.”
“But this was my plan."
“Perhaps you need a new plan. Maybe Africa is right for you, but it’s somewhere else, doing something different. “
I felt some relief, as I realized I had not even considered thinking outside of the box. Also, when I remembered that she was a psychiatric nurse.
“Why am I feeling this way while I am in the middle of one of the most amazing experiences ever? I don’t understand. When my previous life was obliterated a year and a half ago, I went to Costa Rica to have a meltdown and to heal, so that by the time I got to Africa there would be something of me to give. These people have nothing and I have everything.
“Did you have a meltdown?”
“No. I loved every minute of it and had a fabulous time.”
She smiled, “Did you really think you could put your emotions on a schedule?”
It became apparent that my meltdown had come not in the form of sobs; I had done enough of that during year one, but in the form of an emotional shut down, not in Manuel Antonio, but in Moshi, Tanzania. My heart was closed up, a knot in my chest. I was afraid to fall in love with this place or these people because I would risk being hurt again, and my wounds were still so raw I couldn’t bear another painful experience. But why now, when I want to help? I was riddled with guilt at not being on top of my game for these deserving people.
“I guess I’m not as healed as I thought I was.”
“You put your entire life into a storage locker, and moved to Africa. Who does that? Don’t be so hard on yourself, and give yourself some time. Plus, I am certain by the time your service is up at CCS, you’ll know what your next step will be.”
We heard Ibra ringing the bell signifying it was time to go to work. I took a deep breath, and realized that eventually I was going to be ok. It felt good to have it out of me, in the open. A next step, that’s all I really needed to have. I thanked her. She gave me a long tight hug, the kind that breaks through your defenses. Somehow I managed a grin,
“How much do I owe you for the session today?”
“How much do I owe you for the session today?”
 |
| I noticed this beautiful cactus when I went out to the front porch one morning at 6:00am |
 |
| by 8:00am these huge flowers had wilted and we never saw them again. Just a little morning gift |
bravo
ReplyDelete