The End

I knew something had changed when I found myself dancing my heart out to “Party in the USA” by Miley Cyrus. I’m not sure how to explain it. It wasn’t the calabashes of palm wine or shots of sodabi that made me so happy and willing to dance like a fool in the middle of a Togolese night club. It was being amongst Americans, and feeling a sense of connectedness to each other and to something that so often feels so far away…home. No matter your political viewpoint or thoughts about the US, being abroad for a substantial amount of time under difficult conditions really ignites a sense of patriotism in you that you may not even know you had – even for silly, commercial pop songs. Working as a Volunteer with Peace Corps, I’ve never been so proud to say that I am an American. Never had I been so excited when I by chance saw CNN playing in English on a random channel in the capital. Never had I cried so much getting my first letter from home: the weight of the envelope, the American Flag stamp, the crispness of the papers. I can’t smell, but I imagined the papers wafting off scents of my mom’s cooking, the first cool breezes in Gainesville in “Autumn” (briefly in November and between January to March) and other memories back home all came rushing back.

Simultaneously when I went home briefly for two weeks last year after over a year in Peace Corps, never had I felt so homesick for a place I barely knew – Togo. When I came back, crossing the border from Ghana over to Togo, I felt so comfortable and at ease again, getting in a taxi, winding through the dirt roads of the capital speaking French. Despite all of its differences and the difficulties I’ve faced, Togo has become my home too. I’ve made a life for myself here. I have a house that’s four times bigger than my last apartment in college. I have (somewhat of) a yard, a dog as a best friend, a bank account, an awesome backyard view of the plateau mountains, a cell phone, a failed garden, an office, electricity bills, neighbors and friends that have become my surrogate family… I’ve only known them for two years at the most, but some of my best friends are my counterparts that I’ve worked with and other Peace Corps Volunteers that have gone through this experience with me.

There is so much that I will miss about life here in my village and in Togo. Even though my work can be challenging and frustrating most of the time, the projects I’ve done have also been some of the most rewarding. I’ll miss trying to speak in Akposso, my village’s main local language. Even though I only really know by heart basic greetings, I’ll miss the old ladies in village with toothless smiles that cry out and laugh with their whole bodies and think I’m fluent in Akposso when I properly say “Have a good day!”. I’ll miss taking Max with me everywhere and everyone calling him my ambassador, his fluffy, fox-like tail bouncing around while pouncing ahead of me to announce my arrival to work at the NGO, to the market, to the store, to my neighbors’ houses, to the post office. I’ll miss the camaraderie and connectedness that exists between PCVs, even those that barely know each other or who in the US probably wouldn’t even hang out or cross paths. I’ll miss knowing where all my food comes from/who grew it and making most of my own meals (I will not miss doing the dishes by hand in a bucket with no running water several times a day though!).
I will miss the pure bliss of the novelty of air conditioning and hot, running water. I will miss the custom of the respectful, double-handed wave greeting. I will miss the village crier who walks around neighborhoods with a cowbell at night screaming AhhhhGO and announcing the latest news of an upcoming party or funeral, ending it with more cowbell banging similar to that of the lady from the movie Grease who does the morning announcements tinking away on various notes for a few seconds too long. I will miss the custom of spilling a little of every drink out at the beginning of any drinking session on the ground for your ancestors. I’ll miss taking motos down my “road” to village through the mountains. I’ll miss the deliciousness of straight-from-the-ground/tree-fresh pineapple, avocados, mangoes and other fruits.

This all being said, there are quite a few things that I’m ready to leave behind (rude and harassing taxi drivers, being yovo-ed, people’s expectations for money, amoebas, malaria, work frustrations and feeling like I can’t do enough to help, traveling on awful roads…I could go on awhile here). Mostly, I am just ready for the next “stage” of my life. Ready for my COS trip with Brett to Namibia and Cape Town (woohoo!), ready to start grad school for nursing next summer (hopefully I’ll get accepted), ready to eat a variety of delicious, easily accessible food, and just ready to see my family.

One of my best friends named Tanti recently had the opportunity to go to the US for three weeks to learn about “the spirit of volunteerism” in America. She had an awesome time visiting D.C., Seattle, San Antonio, and Chicago, meeting other people from around the world, and participating in volunteer service opportunities side by side with Americans. “It was SO wonderful,” she told me and yet despite her longing to return again one day, when she arrived back in the Togo “airport” she couldn’t help but “cry and smile and feel relief because [she] was home”. It’s that sense of home and familiarity and comfort that simultaneously I’m so sad to leave and so happy to get back to.

This may sound trite but my experiences here as a Volunteer really have deepened my belief in humanitarianism. Despite our supposed and real differences and the lines we create between us, at the end of the day we are all human. We all want to be in good health, to be successful and fulfilled, to provide for our families, to be in peace, and to have a sense of home (I’m lucky that I feel that I now have two). I’m sure I’ll be in the US soon, alone in the middle of the club, dancing my heart out like a weirdo to Toofan and Shakira’s Waka Waka World Cup song that have become the background music to my life here, happy to be in the US again, but missing my life in Togo all the same.