Mad Dash to the Finish Line

I have two weeks remaining at my site and twenty-two days before I return to the United States of America. Sometimes I look at my calendar and wonder if I can make it through these last few weeks and other times I panic about how many errands I have yet to run. When things like dead bodies in the water supply and venereal diseased dogs in chemotherapy polka dot the events of the past few weeks, I’m scared to think what else could happen before I hand in my house keys. I still have to pack up my house, mail a box or two home, paint a couple walls, burn my holey underwear before the village kids run off with it, find a loving home for Half Wit (my kitten), sweet talk the Wellness Center doctor into co-authoring an article on HIV counseling & testing with me, sort my computer files, organize hard files containing the work I’ve completed over the last two years, apply for jobs, close my Lesotho bank account, and watch the entire season three of Grey’s Anatomy with some fellow volunteers.

The upside is that the Wellness Center staff came through for me on the PEPFAR-funded HIV/AIDS education materials, so that project is nearly complete. The downside is that PEPFAR has really silly, overly-involved reporting requirements considering the fact that their $2500 contribution isn’t a huge some of money in the fundraising world.

After finishing the PEPFAR reporting and the rest of my to-do list, I’ll drop off a few stool samples at Peace Corps Medical, submit a Description of Service and my keys to the Peace Corps Admin staff, sign a million or so forms, and I’m good to go! I’m excited to see family and friends, but I’m anxious about heading off into the great unknown – that is, America. For example, new volunteers have asked me what I’ll do when I go home and are stunned to find out that I’m not exactly sure. “I dunno, maybe I’ll live in my mother’s basement and slip into a deep depression until I get a decent job offer. Or maybe I’ll pose as an Australian and buy an Amtrak rail pass for Canada and the United States. Who’s to say?”

The volunteers who are leaving Lesotho with me seem to understand. Many of us have vague notions about what could happen or what might happen, but we’re pretty much open to backpacking through East Africa, bumming around India, hitchhiking to Vancouver, attending grad school in Philadelphia, breaking up with boyfriends, applying to the U.S. Postal Service, or all of the above. We’re flexible like that. However, I think some of our more responsible, dare I say respectable, family members pray that we would settle down and (finally) earn a real income. Maybe save for that retirement account or purchase dental insurance. Something a bit more mundane.

Mundane, however, sounds threatening right now. One of the first understatements I penned in my journal when I arrived at Maluti Hospital in August 2005 was, “Life is going to be different for a while.” The same surely applies to the next few months as I make sense of my two years as a Peace Corps Volunteer, adjust to the United States, and rid myself of a few bad habits I developed in Lesotho. Many western folks in Southern Africa “adjust” to their circumstances by over-eating, drinking, smoking (up), forsaking personal hygiene, and/or swearing. I developed a wicked vocabulary that won’t translate well to daily life in the Midwest. One cannot pace around mumbling “holy fucking monkey balls” and expect the family to understand. No one will serve me a second helping of hotdish with a potty mouth like that.

Luckily, Peace Corps gives us vouchers for three free counseling sessions when we return to the U.S. Perhaps a nice professional counselor in khaki Dockers will teach me to replace the phrase “shitters titters” with “oh for shoot!” He might even help me to embrace generous benefit packages with ten vacation days per year. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll re-learn that stashing my money and cell phone in my bra is inappropriate when paying for rechargeable batteries at Target. We’ll see.

Whatever my prognosis, the next few months promise to be messy and unique, just like the rest of my Peace Corps Service. Please bear with me.