Monday, August 13, 2012

A long, dirt road home


I never anticipated this abrupt turn of events.  I regret that I'm even making these key strokes which ultimately took me back to America.  Everything is happened so quickly and life is changing once again -- twice in less than a year have I picked up and moved on to the next story, the next chapter in my life.  Would you believe that a wrong answer to a yes-or-no question is what put me on a plane again back home?  It's a lot more than that, of course, but if I would have just said 'no' then I wouldn't be in this situation.  I'm sure most would just want to know why I'm coming home.  The answer would stun some people, others would say 'serves you right' and others would think I was joking.  My youthful immortality stepped out in front of me the other day.  As a blanket rule, Peace Corps says that under no circumstances shall a volunteer ride a motorcycle in country unless given specific, explicit authorization.  But it was the only way to get to where we wanted to go - a quick 10km ride down a deserted dirt road to a farm.  We wouldn't get caught, we'd go slow, and it wasn't even a busy road; what's the big deal?  We found ourselves in a position where we were staring down a dirt road and figured we had two choices: hop on a moto for a harmless ride to a farm where we were going to be helping a gentleman develop his plans for an eco-touristic/work-share farm or turn around a walk away -- go back home and not meet with this ambitious Guinean man.  Of course, those weren't our only two options, but in the short time that we reflected it seemed obvious that we were going to hop on a motorcycle and head out to work for a couple days.  What made the decision easier for us was that riding motorcycles was well within the cultural and societal norms of Guinea; it is far and away the most used and preferred method of public transit in the country.  I didn't even weigh the costs of my decision before hopping on the back of the moto.  Unfortunately, now, I'm stuck with a swarth of consequences.  I put the country director in a tough position.  I was a good volunteer; I had a portfolio of current and promising projects, was well integrated into my community, a part of the Volunteer Advisory Committee, Food Security Task Force and a Regional Coordinator for the Stomp Out Malaria initiative.  Now all of that is left behind.  I'll move past the work and projects that I left behind, but I will never get over how I had to leave my community.  Timbi Tounni invested in me, me in them, and now I sit in America thousands of kilometers away.  I didn't get to say proper goodbyes or insure continuation with any of my projects. It's hard, something only another PCV can fully understand -- I said goodbye to friends and family that I'm not sure if I'll ever see again.  People say to not live life with regrets, to see the positive side of everything, or that all things happen for a reason.  I believe those things, I really do, but this situation has made them more than words; it's been tough to come to terms with all this.  But it's not the end.

I don't know where my life's trail is headed next; I'd love nothing more then to go right back to Guinea and continue with everything I left behind.  But, I'm not going to run; I'm going to take it one step at a time.  This won't be the end of Africa for me; it's my heart and my passion -- it's where I feel at peace and satisfied.  I definitely learned my lesson; sometimes there are no second chances in life.  It was 8.5 months of adventure, learning, grassroots development and self-reflection.  It changed my life and I have a new perspective.  It was an incomplete experience that left me hungry for more; now I'm going to be patient to see where I'm lead to next.

For all who were following my adventures -- this isn't the end!  This was a learning opportunity (and boy did I learn my lesson), but not a dead end.  Thanks for all your continued support! Merci beaucoup. On jaraama naani.