Well, here we are at Thanksgiving time again, when we must
ask ourselves what we’re thankful for.
This time last year I was in Peru visiting my dear friend, Maren, in
Lima and our dinner consisted of steak fajitas, margaritas, and not much
contemplation of what we were grateful for.
Boy, have things changed. While I
again am out of the States for the second Thanksgiving in a row, I definitely
have “plenty tings” I am thankful for.
I am thankful for the fact that I am alive and able to be living in Africa
right now. While there are things that
drive me “banana-sandwich” (thank you, Morgan Weir) sometimes, I love it
here. To quote Bradley Zemmel (haha), I
often have to pinch myself and ask “Am I in the Twilight Zone?” I’ve been here over 5 months already and
sometimes I still can’t believe it. I’m having the best experience of my life.
But it’s not all just unicorns and gumdrops and
rainbows. Some days are what I call
“bleh days”: I’m tired, cranky, and feel
defeated as an educator and PCV. Then
there are the days I feel like Superman after having just saved the world once
again: nothing and no one can stop
me! And most days, I feel a little bit
of both ends of Dany’s Emotional Spectrum, but hey, that’s the life of a
typical PCV. (At least I’m more in tune
with my mood swings now, eh?) Sometimes
you feel the really low lows and the really high highs all in the same day, but
you just take it a day at a time and learn to laugh, a lot.
So I am thankful for my sense of humor. And for my ability to laugh at any
situation. Like my students trying, and
failing miserably, to pronounce the German last names of the scientists who
contributed to the 3 tenants of Cell Theory.
That day I literally doubled over laughing for a good 5 minutes, with
tears streaming down my face, in front of my 10th graders. I think they appreciated it. :-) Or
the time I was on one of my weekend long runs and sank in Liberian quicksand
(deceptively solid-looking, gushy mud) at the edge of the road. I was in deep,
up past my ankles, as I was dodging a pen-pen (motorbike), all in the name of
safety! After screaming some choice
words that I won’t repeat here into the backdrop of palm trees, vines, and
ferns, I just burst into hysterical laughter.
Then I continued to jog for 40 more minutes with really squishy, heavy
tennis shoes. When I finally reached my
house, I had a good laugh and photo session with the “pekings” (kids) and ended
up having a fantastic Saturday.
I’m also thankful for my immune system. Hearing stories of other PCVs who have had
Malaria and Giardia multiple times so early into service is scary, but
thankfully, knock on wood, I’ve survived with just 2 mild colds and only two
tiny sunburns so far. I’ve eaten mystery
bush meat (probably groundhog) in various soups and never had runny belly! AND, I haven’t chopped off any fingers
yet! Aren’t you happy about that one,
Mommy? :-)
I’m also so incredibly thankful I have enough food to eat
each and every day. Food is something us
middle-class Americans don’t have to worry about. “When will I eat my next meal?” is a question
most of us seldom, if ever, have to ask ourselves. One of the students in my school said most
days he goes to campus with an empty stomach and envies his classmates as they
buy food from one another during the Recess break. (Side note:
Did you know that in Liberia, “recess” really means mini-market time? I didn’t either! Okay, tangent aside.) How can someone be expected to perform well,
let alone pay attention, when their stomach is roaring with hunger? Yes, I’m here “living as the people do” but
our PC monthly stipends more-than-provide for our dietary needs. So we share small with our friends/the
neighborhood kids/students whenever we have extras, which is fairly often.
So when you’re sitting down to your turkey dinner with your
friends, families, and loved ones, be thankful for the fact that you can even
choose between white meat and dark, mashed potatoes or diced and spiced,
because the reality is that millions
of people don’t have that luxury.
Okay, my “I’ma make you feel guilty, you glutinous
Americans” rant is over, I promise.
Another thing I’m thankful for is having the opportunity to
experience and learn SO MUCH from a culture that is so different from my
own. It has really helped me examine
American cultural norms, values, and expectations and determine what are the
things I really like and don’t like without society telling me what and how to
think. Like for instance, having little
children running around naked isn’t such a taboo after all, is it? Why do we have to perceive nudity to be such
a terrible thing? While walking back to
Gbarma from the neighboring village of Zuo (which means “stupid” in Gola, by
the way…more on that later), Rachel and I saw 3 young boys running towards the
creek to “go take bath”. One peking was
wearing shorts that were falling off his butt and had bright yellow “slippers”
(flip-flops) that pounded orangish-brown dust into the air as he ran. The second boy only had on a shirt that
wasn’t very long at all and black slippers, and the third and last boy in the
group had no clothes or shoes on at all!
They three raced one another to the bridge, ran down the bank, and
jumped into the water, splashing and laughing, just having a grand ‘ole
time. And that’s how it should be. If you want to race your friends down a dirt
road in the bush, butt naked, to jump into the refreshingly cool creek as the
white women pass, then why the hell shouldn’t you be able to? We just chuckled to ourselves as we began to
climb the hill along the palm trees near the GCS campus, our landmark that we
had returned to Gbarma.
Now, “Zuo” means “stupid” in Gola, one of the tribal
languages in this western region. The
town has that name because apparently the soil is so fertile, the plants grow
stupidly fast. Seriously. I laughed the first time I heard it too. Anyways, the reason we were walking back from
Zuo to Gbarma last Saturday was because we were leaving a funeral. Our school’s Registrar passed away last month
due to heart and kidney complications, AND African magic and poisoning, if you
ask the Liberians. After a very long day
and very interesting service―complete with colorful lappa dresses, singing and
dancing, fake flowers and ribbon wreaths, lots of sweating, fainting, wailing,
hysterical crying/fits of uncontrollable sorrow, and a burial in an above-ground-tomb
of ceramic bathroom tiles―we said goodbye to Uncle One-Eye (yes, that’s his
nickname). While I didn’t know Konah all
that well and only interacted with him a limited number of times, I was still
affected by his passing because it affected the entire community. And while it SUCKED
to see his family members in their suffering during the service, it was also
nice to see how the entire community
came together during this terrible time.
So, with that said, I am extremely grateful that I am now a
part of a society in which the community actually means something. People living in poverty scrape together what
they can to contribute to the family’s funeral expenses. Zuo probably slaughtered their entire supply
of chickens for the post-funeral meal.
Villagers gave up their beds to allow strangers, friends and family from Monrovia, to sleep in their
homes the night of the wake. People here
really come together and are there for one another when it’s really needed. So I’m thankful for that. I’m thankful people here care for you and
aren’t shy, ashamed, or afraid to let you know it. Oh, and the people here let me know just how
much they love me, but I’ll save that for another blog post. :-)
And I’m thankful I have so many supportive and loving people
in my life. So here is my Thanksgiving
message to you: I’m grateful for
you! And I hope you appreciate what you
have and cherish those around you, because you never know if you’ll make it to
the next Thanksgiving. So take the time
to thank whatever God, spirit(s), forces, elements of nature, whatever you
believe in today. Thank Him/it/them for this day, for this
life, and enjoy it to the fullest! Happy
Thanksgiving!
