Sunday, June 7, 2009

I am in way over my head...

Note to future PCV's following this blog: there will undoubtedly be times in the beginning of your service when thoughts like these enter your mind –sometimes they are just a whisper in the back of your mind and other times you might just want to scream, “what the heck am I doing here?” Just hang on because one of those mind-blowing, awe-inspiring moments is right around the corner –Peace Corps life is chalk full of them!

I had a few days this week where I lost my confidence and found myself stuck in a slump of doubt. I forgot about all of the life experiences that got me here and fixated on the fact that I am “just” a recent college-grad whose first full-time job experience only lasted for the 3 months before departure and was at a sport company’s internet warehouse (www.porterstahoe.com --check it). Don't follow this doubt when it's calling you. It's a trap.

I'm still not exactly sure what my role is here. They say that health volunteers don't really have one, they have to create it. For the first few weeks I literally sat in the office doing nothing. I chatted with co-workers and read everything I could get my hands on in hopes for some small clue. Now, 2 months in Mariental, I spend most of my time meeting an interviewing important people/ heads of organizations and local leaders to let them know I am here and to offer my assistance. It’s like going fishing. I throw out my line and a lot of fish nibble but only a few bite. Sometimes the ones that bite are too large for me to handle and I am struggling to not get throw overboard!

For example, last week I heard about a man who has started a small health-related NGO in my community. I called him up for a meeting requesting to learn a little bit more about his org. When he stepped into the volunteer’s office and saw that I am American, he looked at me with dollar sign in his eyes (this happens a lot)! He emphasized the organization’s needs for funding and only a few minutes into our meeting was suggesting that I get involved in some messy dispute between his org and a funding source. I did my best to be supportive but told him I simply couldn’t do that because I didn’t understand the context of the situation. I figured that was it, he was no longer going to come to me for help, but he kept showing up at my office. We’d have meetings where he’d come to me for advice as if I was an expert on running NGO’s!

Situations like these are odd enough but add in the language barrier (though we are usually technically speaking English, Namibians tend to speak it's own version everyone calls "Namblish") and I know many things are getting lost in translation. Since I’ve been in Namibia, I can’t think of a time when I’ve felt like I know 100% what is going on.

It’s funny how life can sometimes supply you with exactly what you need during days or weeks like these. At the end of a long day, I really enjoy the simple pleasure of cooking dinner. The kitchen has become my outlet. If I feel like I haven’t done anything productive that day, I can at least be creative in the kitchen –or, if I can't handle anything else, I can hypnotically stare into the boiling pot of macaroni noodles and for a moment forget where I am.

One night, Beata was standing in the kitchen with me and we were chatting about the usual: the differences and similarities between our cultures. She brought up the other night when we were at dinner at another volunteer’s house. It was a fun night that turned into an impromptu karaoke session. We all took our turn at some of the songs (we thought) we knew best.
“I was surprised to see you guys didn’t know the words. I just thought you people heard a song once and could sing it perfectly.”

I laughed, “No, I’m always forgetting the words to my favorite songs.”

"So you're just like us."

“Ya, we’re all only human and we all have our fears and weaknesses.” We were both quiet and I could see she was thinking.

“Now don’t be offended, I’ve just never been so close to a white person before and I used to think we were so different –but really we’re just the same.I used to think that white people don’t care about us at all. So… you have proved me wrong.”

In that one sentence, the last four months of doubt and confusion were completely erased. Even if every one of my projects in the next two years fails, my time here has been worth all of it.

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