Marathons

Tomorrow I am going back to Malobi for the last time. The next time I get on a boat to come into the city will be the last. My time as a Peace Corps Volunteer is quickly coming to an end. For the most part I am excited, but there are occasional bouts of shock and sadness mixed in with the oh-my-gosh-i-just-can't-wait-to-get-back-to-America feelings.

I cannot say it enough, but I am so grateful for those of you that have been reading my blog, praying for  me and my village, and sending your letters and packages full of support and delicious treats. These last two years would have been even tougher and less fulfilling without you. Thanks. Gaantangii!

I don't know exactly what the next steps will be, aside from coming back to Mississippi and spending time with people I love, but I am ready to find out. I do know that it's going to involve a lot guacamole, cheeseburgers, and craft beer. And so, for that reason (and a few more) I have committed to run 26.2 miles for St. Jude on December 7. Running a marathon has been on my mind since I ran a half marathon in 2010. You can check out my fundraising page and donate to the children of St. Jude here.

Peace Corps service has been a marathon. It has tested both my mental and physical strength, as well as my endurance and my confidence in my abilities. I am stronger and better for it. I know the road to running 26.2 will be just as hard at times, but, just like Peace Corps, I cannot wait to say, "I DID IT!" And just like Peace Corps, I cannot wait to see the difference it makes in my life and the lives of others.

Next Steps

The past few days have consisted of me being in Paramaribo and writing final reports and such in preparation for closing out my service. It’s overwhelming to say the least. I thought it was going to be a piece of cake, but it's been tough.  I have learned and accomplished so much as a PCV, but translating  and consolidating all of that down to about four pages, as well as something a potential employer will recognize as valuable, is hard. The truth is, I have learned a ton about project design, grant writing, and implementing projects, but those are not the things that taught me so much during my service. In fact, those were most often the things that caused stress and frustration.

Let’s be honest, the reason Peace Corps Volunteers are completely terrific people is not a result of grant writing and brushing shoulders with ambassadors, it’s because we take the time to get to know the people that the first world so often forgets about. We learn their language. We hug and kiss their children. And, until we are comfortable enough with the language to politely decline it, we eat their food until it hurts. We find new friends in a tiny corner of the world that most have never heard of, ourselves included before that invitation to serve came from D.C.

And so, moving forward, it’s hard to quantify this experience down to a few bullet points and snippets. I have no doubt that all that grant writing, project design, and stressful project implementation is going to help me land a job, and for that I (and my parents) are so very thankful. But when I think about all that I have gained during this experience, more times that not, it’s the faces of my friends that pop into my head. It’s sitting on my porch braiding my little buddy Zameni’s hair for school the next day. It’s my neighbor Polo singing and playing his guitar as the sun sets. It’s Beta hugging me every single time she sees me. It’s the lady that lives behind me coming over to see if I cooked anything delicious that she can ask me for. It’s watching those precious twins lie in my floor looking at books and making up their own stories, twisting my heart into something that’s going to hurt when I have to say goodbye to them.

Okay, let me just take a sidebar and talk about these kids. I have never been around kids this much. I’ve had babysitting jobs and whatnot, but nothing like this. I have never seen babies learn to walk and call my name. It’s powerful stuff. I’ve held babies before, but only when people gave them to me. I never sought them out. Now, it’s like a reflex. A mother comes to talk to me and her baby is in her arms? I take it. My arms just lift themselves up. When I went to Mississippi in the fall, I had to sit on my hands on the flight from Miami to New Orleans because something told me that the white lady across the aisle from me did not want to me to take her cuddly, squishy baby away from her. It was probably the fact that my arms were held in a position to receive a baby that was not being offered to me. That reflex. 

Another side note, PCVs really should have, like, a card or something to hand to people that we do weird things in front of. It would say, “I’m in the Peace Corps. Sorry I just did that weird thing.” "Also, my mother taught me better."

Back to the babies and kids, but mainly those twins I love so so much. I’m sure I’ve mentioned them before, but Dia and Dio (I know, right?) are six years old and the loves of my life. If I’m home and they’re not in school, they are probably at my house. It blows my mind when I think of how much I’ve come to know them these last two years. Dia is so shy. Most of the time she just wants to be near me. She’s totally content just sitting in silence as I cook or read a book. She has fallen asleep so many times in a chair in my house this way. Dio is all boy and that smile of his melts my heart every time he flashes it my way, which is pretty much every time he looks at me. He loves to climb trees and he sticks his tongue out when he’s being strong or doing something tuff. I look at both of them and think, “Gosh, y’all have no idea how much I love you. Y’all have no idea how much you have changed my life. Y’all have no idea how much I will miss you and pray for you when I am gone.” Will they remember me? Maybe, but it won’t be the same. If I come back in ten years, they’ll be teenagers. I won’t be the Lobi Mai that they wanted to hang out with and look at books with and hug. They’ll be grown up and they won’t need me. One of the toughest parts of closing out service and leaving your country of service, I think for a lot of Volunteers, is being okay with what you did and knowing that what you did was enough. I pray all the time that I have loved those kids enough. It’s going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done when I climb onto that boat and leave them.

Whew, okay.

So yeah, preparing for the next chapter is tough. When I’m trying to write really intelligent things on my description of service and my resume, it feels like my service isn’t being validated for what it was. Also, living in the jungle and learning another language does something funny to your brain, so it’s tough to pretend to be intelligent. I swear it’s like jell-o most days. I guess maybe that thing about my service not being validated isn’t totally true. Like I said, all that project writing and implementation and working with locals is going to be so crucial to whatever comes next, but sometimes I just want shout, “Hey! I hold babies now!” and, “Oh yeah, that last time I saw a tarantula, I totally did not throw up in my mouth!” (I lifted my feet off the ground as I wrote that). “I can kill tiny fish with my bare hands!” "And braid your hair." "I own a machete and I know the proper way to use it so that I don't cut my foot off!" “Are these skills that would benefit your organization?” "Will you give me a job?" Probably not. However, all those cute boys that are going to take me on dates when I come home will fall instantly in love with me, right? Oh yeah. 

I’ve said it a few times, and I’m going to say it again: I am ready. Despite the days and moments when I know life back in America is going to be frustrating and tough, I am ready for it. I will miss the faces here that I have grown to love and they will miss me, but our lives have always been destined to be different and I cannot stay here. My time in Suriname will end and I will leave accepting that the work I did here was enough. I will leave knowing that so much more was given to me. My Peace Corps service will end, but the lessons I’ve learned will always be with me. The twins’ smiles and hugs will stay in my heart, and I will continue to not vomit when I see spiders. Jobs are important, and I will find one. The thoughts and memories of being loved and conquering fears and learning things I could never have learned without this experience are crucial, and I already have those. As I prepare to leave Suriname and return to the States, I do it with confidence and hope that whatever the next chapter holds will be rewarding and fulfilling. It will be rewarding and fulfilling because of the lessons I take away from this experience and because of the new ones awaiting me. And also because I am going to eat so much Mexican food. 

Endings

I think this is going to be a long post, so buckle up and let's get to it.

I came to the city on March 26th. But first, I turned twenty-six in the jungle. Friends came to celebrate and we had a great time. Thanks to Kyle, Jamie, Julie, and Jonathan for making my second and LAST birthday in the jungle so special. Twenty-six is going to be a rock n roll year. 

Holi Phagwa was celebrated on March 27th here in Suriname, and a lot of the Volunteers came to the city to take part in the celebration. Holi is a religious spring festival celebrated by Hindus. They believe it is a time to celebrate the colors and abundance of spring, and bid farewell to winter. It was basically a giant party with bands, food, beer, and colored powder. At least that's how we celebrated. It was great fun and I am so glad I experienced the party. Also, I now know what baby powder taste like. It tastes exactly like you think it does. 

SUR 17's Close of Service conference took place on April 3rd and 4th. During the conference we discussed lots of good stuff and information we need to close out our time in Suriname. We sat through lectures and sessions, and did a couple of reflective activities. One of the activities we did is called "Thirty-two Squares." We folded a piece of paper into thirty-two squares, and on each one we were asked to write an experience or event that really stands out when we think of our PC service. On the backs of those squares we were asked to write the emotions or qualities that we gained from those experiences, both professional and personal. 

These are a few of the events and experiences I wrote on my squares: Talking to Momma and Daddy the day I submitted my application to Peace Corps, receiving my invitation to serve in Suriname, starting this blog and the overwhelming support I received, moving to Malobi and calling it home, eating wild (and probably endangered) animals, falling in love with those precious twins I call mine, holding babies, English lessons with my friend, Polo, all of the sicknesses and discomfort two years in the jungle brings, runs through the jungle, hosting my parents in my home and realizing I speak another language, all those funny cultural exchanges, and those days I wanted to pack it all in and leave. 

These are the things I learned or was reminded of through those experiences: I am tough. I am courageous. I am accomplished. I am adaptable. I am thankful. I get scared. I get over it. I was always sure of my place here. I am loved so damn much. 

I was really excited throughout the entire conference. Some of it was emotional, but all of it was informative and useful. Now I begin the process of finishing up all my project reports and writing my DOS (description of service). Changes to a DOS have to be approved by a Country Director, and since my post is closing, and will not have a CD anymore, my DOS is the final say in what I did as a PCV. 

During our COS conference, Ambassador Anania hosted a reception to honor the Volunteers and our work in Suriname. It's always fun to hang out at an ambassador's house. 

On April 5, Peace Corps Suriname hosted our Legacy Event. The event was open to the public, and lots of high-ranking officials from Suriname were invited. The event had a huge turnout! It was so nice to have so many host country folks come out to honor and support the work PCVs have done in this gem of a country. The event included the official passing off of our work to the Ministry of Regional Development, speeches from Ambassador Anania and Suriname officials, as well as a documentary made by Kyle Smithers (the tall, skinny, white guy in my birthday pic up there). 

After the program, there was a reception to keep the mingle fest going. This event was probably a lot of folks last impression and interaction with Peace Corps and maybe even Americans. It was an honor to be a part of it. 

SUR 17s with Ambassador Anania and Acting Peace Corps Director of Global Operations, Carlos Torres

Acting Peace Corps Director of Global Operations, Carlos Torres

At the reception, I was talking to a few women from the U.S. Embassy. One of the ladies asked a great question, "You're not trying to impress anyone. You're not trying to recruit anyone or convince anyone to join the Peace Corps. Are you glad you did it?" My response was quick and simple. "Yes." I told her there were a lot of days that I had to make a conscious decision to stay, but that even on those tough days, even if someone had placed a plane ticket to Mississippi in my hands, I would have chosen to stay. I would have chosen to stay because even on those tough extremely hard I-don't-want-to-be-here-has-it-been-twenty-seven-months-yet days, I knew this is where I was meant to be. I was sure, even when it was hard, that Suriname was meant to be my home for this time. And I think that's how you know something is and was the right decision. Well, that mixed with a lot of struggle, hugs, and prayer. 

Nearing the end of my Peace Corps service is one of the strangest places I have ever been mentally and emotionally. I am so ready, and that makes it hard. But it's hard anyway. And I love people here, but I cannot stay here. I have to say goodbye to them. And not like, "Oh there's no such thing as goodbyes, it's only until next time." No. It's a goodbye like I've never said before. I may never see some of my villagers again. Knowing that and knowing I cannot stay is hard. I am mentally prepared to say that goodbye and cry for a long time tomorrow, so it makes having eighty-four (duh, I'm counting down) days left in Suriname hard. Some days I am so mentally over it, I can't stand it. And then I feel guilty for feeling that way, but then a villager makes me want to punch them, so I don't feel bad anymore. Some days I look at those precious little faces standing in the doorway of my jungle home, and I don't know what I'm going to do without seeing them when I want too. And I cry. And then because I'm crying I asked them to go play and come back later. And they don't, so I know exactly what I am going to do without them. And the village trouble maker kids come over and bully me. Okay maybe it's not bullying, but they won't do what I tell them to do. And that frustrates me to the point of tears on some occasions. I think I can consider it bullying if a twelve year old makes me cry. And they won't listen or go away, so I start to hate them. And then I feel guilty for that, because no one is suppose to hate children, especially not a Peace Corps Volunteer. And then literally within ten minutes, they're angels again and I'm crying for totally different reasons. It's exhausting. And because it's so exhausting, I feel guilty for not wanting to do anything. And then this whole accepting-that-what-I've-done-is-enough process begins. I question if it is, confirm in my head that it is, and then look up to find a naked baby running by my house yelling my name. Obviously at this point I start to cry again. Are you catching on to how insane I am at this point?

If you read all of that and you're still interested in my life, bless you. And know that you and your support are two of the reasons I have been and am still so sure about this completely insane, life-changing, marvelous journey. They are also two of the reasons I cannot wait for the next adventure, because I know I'm ready. 

A Vistor's Thoughts

A while back, John's brother came to visit. Recently he wrote a blog post for John's blog describing his trip and some of the initial impressions and feelings he had as a visitor to the jungle. I thought it was such a neat way to document a trip and share his experiences with those folks who have been keeping up with the PCV perspective through John's blog for two years. I thought some of my readers would enjoy it as well. You can click here to read the post.

I've linked y'all to John's blog before, and again I apologize if it's better than mine. You're welcome to read it, but just know that John is only almost as cool as I am in real life.

Quick Trip. Quick Post.

I have been in the city for the past week "on medical" as we say in the Peace Corps. I had a really nasty allergic reaction. I think sunflower oil is the culprit. Benedryl was not clearing it up, so Doc told me to come to the city. He agreed when I asked him if we could just give it one more day. It's a long trip, and I had only been back at site for a week. I didn't want to come to the city. Not yet. I changed my mind when I woke up at one o'clock in the morning with my joints aching from the swelling. I decided I had to go in. I could see and feel welts all over my body and I was itching like crazy. I had a terrible fever, and my knuckles were undetectable because my hands were so swollen. This was turning out to be something really sexy. So, I arrived in the city and finally saw my reflection. Eeeek. It was bad. Doc gave me a shot and lots of medicine. I am feeling and looking so much better. I am going back to site tomorrow. Julie and I are holding a World Aids Day event on Sunday, so I'm ready to get back. And yes, World Aids Day is December 1, but we're doing it now.

I will only be back at site for about three weeks. As I mentioned in my last post, SUR 17's COS conference is in early April. We'll all gather in the city, have some fun, and get the low down on all the things we must complete to successfully close our service as PCVs. The fact that our COS conference is so close is still sinking in. I remember so clearly preparing to leave America and begin this journey. In a few weeks I will officially begin preparing for the next one.

But first, I have got to get back to the jungle. After World Aids Day, Julie and I are implementing another project. We're going to have a week of field days at the school. We're going to play fun games with the students, and throw some lessons in there. Basic life skills. Teamwork. Commitment. Really good stuff like that. I think I've mentioned her before, but just in case, Julie and I share a school and clinic. We're about a forty-five minute walk away from each other, so we work together a lot.

I am going to celebrate another birthday in the jungle. Twenty-six. Julie already bought the funfetti cake and frosting. Those Pillsbury box cake mixes bake up so deliciously in a Dutch oven, y'all. Seriously.

Peace. Love. Thanks.

The Recent Peaces

Here's what's been happening, y'all-

I came to the city on February 1 to take the Foreign Service Exam. I have never taken a test with zero expectations. I did just that with this test. I'm not even sure I want to work for the FS, but the test was offered and it was free, so I took it. I will have the results in a couple of weeks. I don't know if I passed it, but I don't think I bombed it. I knew a couple of things.

Since I've been in, I've had meetings for the two committees I'm on. The PEPFAR (President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief) team is working to compile a portfolio of all the HIV/AIDS projects Peace Corps Volunteers have implemented in Suriname since 2010. Our hope is that when Peace Corps Suriname closes in July, local organizations will take over some of those projects and keep the good work going. PCVs in Suriname have done such great work in this area, and have some great ideas that are both culturally appropriate and effective. We want them all to continue.

And speaking of HIV/AIDS projects, I just finished one. During January, Julie and I implemented a curriculum geared toward sixth grade students. The program covers everything from transmission/non-transmission, the biology of HIV and when it becomes AIDS, as well as stigma and discrimination reduction. The kit includes a manual in Dutch, so that the teachers can continue with the program every year. In a PCV's perfect world, that would happen. The sixth grade teacher we worked with was less than enthusiastic and didn't really help us at all. It was frustrating at times to be doing the work that we wanted the teacher to do. It's hard to get the teachers excited about extra work. Nevertheless, Julie and I facilitated the lessons and the kids learned a lot. I was actually really surprised and excited about how much the kids knew all ready. I give that credit to all of those youth leadership camps we held months ago. In the end, I think the project went as well as it could have. The goal was for the kids to learn the facts and how to protect themselves, and I know they did.

The final lesson involved the kids making posters to educate others on the facts of HIV and how to protect themselves. I had the posters enlarged and laminated. Julie and I are going to hang them at the school and in the stores in our villages.

Drawing a picture about the importance of getting tested for HIV

Julie being a Peace Corps Volunteer

Showing off their certificates and red ribbons.

Julie is behind the camera not telling me she's taking the picture. 

I was happier than that to be there. 

On February 8, I traveled to Albina to visit Michelle's site. Albina is an Amerindian site, so it's very different from my life in Saramacca. I gathered that Amerindians are a way more quiet culture than Saramaccans. Albina is on the Marowijne river, the border between Suriname and French Guiana, so of course we hopped across the border for the day to enjoy delicious pastries and cafe au lait in St. Laurent. And by "hopped across the border," I mean we took a boat across the river and went into French Guiana totally legally and with permission.

Michelle's house. That's Michelle in the middle. 

This street made me think of New Orleans

Strolling through the market

French Guiana was once a penal colony, this is the entrance to the prison

Inside the prison. The buildings are now used for festivals and theater events.

Vietnamese food court

Vietnamese pho and an egg roll was not a bad lunch.

I had a great visit with friends at Michelle's site. French Guiana was a nice treat, and the food was wonderful. I took all of my Euro change back to the bakery before we left. I bought four pan au chocolat, a quiche, and an apple pie thing. I think we left the country with roughly seven baguettes. All of it was eaten. Success. 

I left Albina on Monday morning and returned to the city around noon. I jumped on Facebook as soon as I returned to the office, as I always do when I have internet access. This is the first thing I saw...

I cried. Without knowing what happened, but knowing it was something bad, I cried. I knot formed in my stomach and I was almost scared to find out what it was. After browsing Facebook, I found out it was a tornado. A tornado hurt Hattiesburg and my Southern Miss. I immediately thought of my brother, my friends, and my parents. My mom is in grad school, she had class over the weekend. Were she and my dad still in town? My brother lives in Hattiesburg. Did the tornado come close to his house? So many friends are still in Hattiesburg. They live all over the city. What was the tornado's path? Were they all okay? I was scared to call my mom. It's always hard being so far away and not knowing what's going on back home. That's even harder when tragedy is involved. I called my mom. She answered. They were all okay. Andy's house and neighbor's houses have some damage, but he was out of town for the night, and not at home when the tornado hit. I let out that breath I was holding. I eventually found out that no one was killed in the storm. That's a miracle, y'all. 

Maybe it seems silly to some folks that a picture of a rock, broken trees, and a street filled with debris evoked such emotion in me. And if it seems silly to you, you didn't attend the University of Southern Mississippi. Yeah, that's my alma mater. I have a piece of paper that says so. It's so much more than that though. Southern Miss is my home. My parents went to Southern Miss, and regardless of how much they wanted me to believe the decision of which college I attended was mine, they wanted more for me to believe that Southern Miss was the best place for me. My mom was a Chi Omega at Southern Miss. Going through sorority recruitment was not an option. She told me the choice of joining a chapter was mine. My dad's words were different. "You don't come home if you're not a Chi Omega at the end of the week." I didn't and I was. At Southern Miss. Six weeks into my freshman year, I told my parents I was going to study in France the next spring. Because of Southern Miss. I know without a doubt that I would not be a Peace Corps Volunteer had I not spent a semester in France. I wouldn't be a Peace Corps Volunteer without Southern Miss. With the exception of about three people, my best friends were given to me by Southern Miss and Chi O. I wouldn't have the support I need to be in the Peace Corps without Southern Miss. My heart and life were changed by Southern Miss. So, yeah, a picture of a rock, broken trees, and street filled with debris was hard to see. 

I love this picture of students helping clean up our campus. 

"...so lift your voices high, show them the reason why that Southern spirit never dies. Fight. Fight. Fight."

When the day and the tornado are over, buildings will be rebuilt. Spirits will be lifted, and Southern Miss will be okay. After all, it's not the buildings that changed my life. It was the people, the soul, and the traditions. Those things are all still in tact. And because of that, Southern Miss will continue to climb to the top. And in a few months, I'll be there to see it. 

My state never ceases to amaze me, whether it be for the good or bad. I have seen so many pictures and newspaper articles in the past few days of folks coming together to help in whatever ways they're needed. In times like this, I am reminded of why I love Mississippi and why I couldn't imagine my life being rooted anywhere else. 

I obviously did not take any of the pictures of Southern Miss posted above. In case you're just tuning in, I live in Suriname. If Molly, Hannah, and Mary Lois are reading this, I stole your pictures. Thanks. 

I am going back to site on Monday. Julie and I are cooking up activities for a World AIDS Day celebration and field days at the school. We're going to be busy. I'm thankful for that. When I return to the city in late March, it will be for SUR 17's COS conference. That means Close of Service. Close. Closing service. My service is coming to a close. Holy cow. I cannot believe it. I've lived in this country for a little while, y'all. Wow. 

As always, thanks so much for taking time to keep up with my life, read my blog, pray for me, and make me feel so special. Seriously. I cannot say it enough. 

Also, I will not miss Mardi Gras next year.

Happy New Year!

I cannot believe it's a new year. But isn't that always the case? I said in my New Year's post last year that I am always a little sad to say goodbye to a year. That's because my years are so wonderful and full of great things. Twenty-twelve wasn't different in that regard. Wonderful things happened and I learned so much about life and where I want to be and the things I want to do. I also learned that sometimes I am not completely sure of any of those things, and that is so totally okay too. Twenty-twelve was different though. This was a full calendar year of Peace Corps service. If you've been keeping up with my blog, it's not a surprise to you that while I continue to learn and gain so much, Peace Corps service is hard. I have never lied about that, and maybe sometimes I make it seem like it's only hard. It's rewarding and great in so many ways, but it's been a struggle some days. And that's okay. I think a lot of things in life that are worth doing and learning from are not always easy. The fact is, I love Peace Corps. I love the goals and mission of the organization. I love that I can call myself a Peace Corps Volunteer and be a part of that mission. I am honored that I was chosen for this position. I love the work my fellow PCVs and I are doing and have done. I love knowing that I have the ability, and have been given a unique opportunity to change lives. I love that my life has been changed so much by people I have grown to cherish. Regardless of the struggle and tough days, I do love it. 

Having said all of that, I'll admit it, I am so happy to welcome the year twenty-thirteen. I am okay with twenty-twelve being over. I will finish Peace Corps service this year. In so many ways I truly cannot believe this year is here. I've lived in the jungle for almost two years. That's insane. I am overwhelmed when I think about finishing up service and the fact that the majority of the work I'll do during service is coming in these last few months. That's Peace Corps though. I truly did not have the tools and resources (or language skills) to do these upcoming projects a year ago. I am thankful to be busy in these last few months. It will take my mind away from the States and wanting to be there, because I do want to be there. I am looking forward to all of my upcoming projects, but I am also looking forward to finishing my service. And I think that's a good thing. I don't want to be afraid to go back to the U.S. I want to be ready for the next chapter. I think I am. I think I know I am. I'm going to rock it in twenty-thirteen. I mean, I think I'm rockin at life pretty much all the time, but maybe I get cocky. Seriously though, I love my life, and it's a pretty good one. 

This time of year is always one of reflection, so here are the wonderful things I see when I look back at 2012:

New experiences. New experiences when the shiny wears off and they become life. Turning twenty-five in the jungle and having friends there to help me celebrate. Hugging my parents after almost a year of not seeing them. My parents on a boat in the middle of the Amazon. My parents sitting in my tiny house and hugging those I love most in my village. Youth in the interior of Suriname becoming leaders in their villages. Eating monkey and toucan in the jungle. Yet another Fourth of July and Thanksgiving celebrated with an ambassador. Curacao. Babies being born. Babies learning to walk and talk and say my name. Falling more in love with those twins I just cannot get enough of. Heartache as the big project I was working on came crashing down. Joy that my village found what they were looking for. Parasites. Dengue. Another delicious mango season. Mexican food. The U.S. of A. Mississippi, y'all. Old friends and their new babies. The most amazing and supportive family anyone could ever ask for. A Mexican restaurant in Hattiesburg, MS packed with hugs and love for me. A forgiving and faithful God. 

Let's go, 2013. I'm so glad you're finally here.