I have been told by many of my Peace Corps friends here that I am not the same man I was when I first got to country, and I would tend to agree with them. I do not believe that anyone could spend a year in Africa and not come back a changed man.
So how have I changed? Well, to start with, my hair is significantly longer. This is what happens when you don't have your hair cut for over a year. I have been asked "was this something you consciously decided when you got here, to not cut your hair?" And my answer is no, it's just something that kind of happened. Mainly because I am just pretty lazy and can't build up the energy to get it cut. Also, I really really want to rock the top-knot. Something like this, I think my hair is long enough:
I think by virtue of the top-knot I will become a samurai... right?
But in all seriousness, I think that spending a year in Senegal has made me more confident, persevering, and less fatally afraid of failure. I hope you don't mind me adopting the old 5th grade model of the 5-paragraph essay in order to convey these thoughts. You know, the first paragraph is an introduction (this paragraph), the next 3 expand upon the 3 points you allude to in your introduction, and the final paragraph is the conclusion. I always thought that having an introduction and a conclusion was overly redundant, but who I am to criticize such a tried and true method.
Being a Peace Corps volunteer in Senegal has made me a more confident individual because it thrust me into an unfamiliar, uncomfortable, highly confusing situation that was, to be overly dramatic, sink or swim. I like to tell other volunteers that now that we've gotten through install, there's nothing we can't do. Let me explain. Imagine being in a car with all of the possessions you will need to spend two years at site, slowly rolling your way to your new village. This place will be your home for the next two years, for good or for bad. You don't know anyone there yet but you are going to be put in a family that will become... well, your family. It's like going off to your first semester of college as a freshman again, except its not a few random roommates you will be living with, but a whole new family. Compound on that the fact that though you've studied the language for 2 months, you are still very very far from fluency and can really only say your basic needs. That first day, as the Peace Corps car drove off I couldn't help but think to myself, "...now what?" Because there was literally no road map ahead for what I should be doing. I suppose I was supposed to be getting to know my village and trying to find work partners, but that is easier said than done when feeling a bit stranded in a new environment. It's like, my whole life I've been in the passenger seat. At school I did what i was told, did my work, took my tests, graduated. In work the person above me would tell me to do something, and I'd do it. Sure, I was working, but I was never the one steering the car. Now, in the Peace Corps, is the first time that I am in the driver seat. And I feel like that is a very difficult transition to make after a lifetime of passivity, having to actively search out your work. Our services are what we make of them. Sure, there's frameworks and we're told different types of projects we can do, but it's on us to try to figure out what our role is in the village.
I'm sorry, that got a bit tangential. To get back on topic, I learned to blaze my own path. Those first few weeks were extremely difficult, but I got through it. And this is where confidence comes in. Those first few weeks might have been the hardest of my life, but I succeeded. And if I am able to thrive in a situation where I am in a foreign country, a foreign culture, with barely enough language to get by, then what can't I do? It is this knowledge that gives me confidence. Confidence in myself.
I believe that my time here as a Peace Corps volunteer has made me more persevering. My arguments for this are similar to the ones in my previous paragraph about confidence. Those first few weeks were very difficult, but it still can be very tough at time. I have lived at site for over 9 months, but there are still those days. I'm sure other peace corps volunteers know what I'm talking about. Those days when you just don't want to talk in Pular (or Wolof, or Jaxanke, or whatever). Those days when you just want to sit in your room and read. Read ENGLISH. I am currently reading Isaac Azimov's Foundation series (I finally got around to reading them after you suggesting them, Robbie, it only took like 4 years). I've started warning people to not suggest good books to me, because if I start one, I just want to read. With the freedoms we're granted as a Peace Corps volunteer, I could realistically just hide out in my room all day reading. But I don't. True, I'll often take "naps" that might be a bit longer than they should be, but I always make time to get out and interact with my village. And that's what perseverance is. It's pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and doing what you know you should even if you really don't want to. And there are days I really don't, but I persevere.
I also think that my time in Senegal has made me far less fatally afraid of failure. Because I do fail. Often. I fail most every day, whether it's expressing myself through language, understanding a cultural norm, or otherwise. But it's something I've had to get over. You can ask my Mom, I have never been too inclined to failure. This isn't bragging because that disinclination verges more on fear than dedication. I fear failure to the point where I won't even try, or try so half-heartedly that I can play it off as not truly a failure, but me just not trying. That's why growing up I would never truly try to master something, or could never ask the pretty girl to the dance, because the fear of rejection is in a way a mask of the fear of failure. That is why, even in Senegal, I am often reluctant to speak in Pular because I don't want to make mistakes and look foolish. But I do make mistakes. And I am foolish. These are things I have had to get over as a Peace Corps volunteer because I would literally be unable to get anything done if I was always afraid to make mistakes when speaking Pular. It is still a constant struggle, something that I have to consider and overcome daily, but it's the constant use of a muscle that makes it stronger. In that same way, each time I rise above that fear of failure I become a little better at it, and it becomes a little easier. As we would say in Pular "Seeda Seeda" (little by little).
In conclusion. No, I always hated concluding paragraphs that began with "in conclusion", it's so tautologically inane. Anyway, my first year in Senegal has been a growing experience. I don't believe that I am the man I was when I got out of that airplane a year ago, and I'm glad of it. This last year has been the most challenging in my life, but also the most rewarding. It's taught me to get over the demons that have been haunting me since my youth and carve my own swath to being a better man. It's never too late to tackle those issues that you've been carrying for so long. It's never too late to reinvent yourself. And it doesn't have to be something big like coming to Africa, it's those small things, those little victories that build upon themselves like a speck of snow sliding down a hill, or a trickle of water than becomes a torrent. It just takes the willpower to start. I'm sorry for being a bit overly philosophical, and please call me out if I seem ostentatious. It has been a year of ups and downs, highs and lows, deep in a funk and grand funk railroad (ask me about it later), but it's an experience I wouldn't give up for the world.
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