Coming Back Down

Thanks to two straight weeks of Clemente, I was tempted to make the title of this a double entendre encompassing nrbs and nkbjs, but I'm actively trying to move away from the influences he and others have had on my language and thoughts this week.  I spent three months without even a whisper of such things (I assure you, by the way, that if you're not 'in' on those particular contributions to the alphabet soup we engineers love so dearly, you're much better off that way).  It took me so long to get up to the energy level required for all the fun going on here, and now, abruptly, I need to shut back down so I can go home to my kitten and relaxing without feeling lonely or deprived.  (The one caveat is that I'm going to Ghana(!!!!), but that's for the end of this post.)

Now I'm finally feeling back in the social swing of things, wanting to be around Americans, wanting to hit the bar (!), wanting the rush from the shenanigans my crazy friends are up to.  And it's over.  It took me over a week to get myself going (or for my friends to get me out of my shell?), and now I'm alone in a ghost town.  Think about what your summer camp looks like in early October - fallen leaves, doors shut tight, decorations slowly deteriorating in the dining hall - and then throw in an almost dead sheep (we found it on the road on the way back from our final field trip this afternoon), the concept of nyegens, and a handful of dirty toubabs.  Granted, those dirty toubabs include Colleen the dugutigi of my heart, the aforementioned Clemente, Owen of the room-lighting smile, beautiful hula-hooping Kat, sagacious Chris, brawny John, and a delicious sampling of others; but the energy has dwindled, and I'm feeling cast away before I've even set sail.

But we had fun, koiy!  I actually made new friends (notably a Guinea refugee newly converted to the wonders of WatSan, who struck me as fun incarnate, but who has now gone off to do her own thing).  I really think I've learned some valuable things (which I'm sure I'll remember when I'm finally back to the peace of simply being in Zamblala).  I got to be tasumatigi one night (which means I kept the fire from going out until my liter of boxed wine was finished).  I even got to visit Soundougouba again, with Colleen.  This time I pretty much only hung out with togoma, which didn't become too difficult (she speaks really quickly if she gets going with a topic) because we couldn't stay long.  I got some really good hugs, which one has to stock up on because they're few and far between out in village.  I ate mountains of delicious (and mediocre) food to the point of being able to leave off my belt when I wore my jeans.  I went to a Christmas/Hanukkah party.  I scored two new t-shirts and a new shawl/scarf dealie.  I danced myself silly.  I read a Dick Francis novel I had never read before.  I got The Little Prince back and then gave it away again.  Most of all, I was reminded that I do have a support network here, there are ways to feel connected to my roots without having to be back on my native soil, and I can still speak English at least a little bit.

And now, on to next week.  Ni Ala sonna, tomorrow I will get my visa for Ghana.  Except I don't really believe that it will work.  I hope against hope it gets done, but I'm not convinced.  If not, I'm stuck in Bamako another day (for quite a few more dollars, and likely giving up a free spot on the PC shuttle back up to site), and I don't know if I'll make it home for Christmas, and I certainly won't have much fun Christmas Eve.  (Home meaning my hut in Zamblala, with my cat and my villagers, of course.)  But either way, the day after Christmas (a Saturday) is pretty much fixed as an afternoon trip to Koutiala to Skype my father's family at their Christmas party, and procure transport to Accra (or at least into Burkina Faso, but all the way seems simpler to me).  Sunday or Monday (depending on the bus schedule) will find me happily ensconced in a hot cramped bus with too many cfa francs strapped inside my (new!) dress and my heart all aflutter for the dulcet, Long Island flavored, no-nonsense tones of 'Vito.  A mere 40 or so hours later, I'll be arriving in Accra just in time to greet 'Vito as he gets off his airplane and meet up with his brother and several Mali PCVs including my PST roommate.

I have no idea what happens next.

But it sounds beautiful so far, right?  I'm hoping I'll get a dip in the ocean, a bit of tasty food, some nightlife, and some xmas presents.  But if not a single of those things happen, I don't care as long as I'm with 'Vito.  So I haven't worried about it.  Once I'm there, things will take care of themselves.  I haven't worried about getting back, either.  Ni Ala sonna, I'll be a fully capable, energized, integrated, organized, and on-the-ball volunteer by the first full week in January.  If not, Zamblala kaw are a forgiving crowd, and they have been patient so far.  And as long as Sam is on, I'm ideally behind-the-scenes brain power, anyway.  And when is Sam not on?  Never.  So an ka taa.  Let's go!

As dinner time is fast approaching, and I'm getting less and less coherent (a decline from meager heights to begin with), I'm out.  Peace, always.  Love.  Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year!