"AIDS has come to haunt a world that thought it was incomplete. Some wanted children, some wanted money, some wanted property, some wanted power, but all we have ended up with is AIDS."

-Bernadette Natbatanzi, traditional healer
Kampala, Uganda, 1994

My Dinner with Mom and Jesse

Last night I enjoyed a conversation with my mother and stepfather over the fundamental difference between them and myself. This conversation lead to one about the film, "My Dinner with Andre". A film i've heard talked about in other films- but have never seen.

My mother grabs Jesse's hand, my step- father, looks lovingly into his eyes and says, " I'm a Wally." Jesse replies, "I am a Wally too- that's why we work so well together. You Mere, are an EXTREME Andre." I have no idea what they're talking about.

They go onto explain the fundamental differences between the Wally and the Andre. Wally, a born and raised New Yorker, is very proud and happy. Has never had the desire to leave home. Andre, tall and lean, is a traveler- a seeker. One seeking self-discovery, self-awakening, inspiration, and the desire to belong to something greater than himself. Restless and uncertain while home, he drinks glass after glass of wine while sitting with Wally over dinner.

Wally, just as nervous, has heard horror stories of the new Andre who returns home saying bizarre things and his moments of tears in public for what appears to be no reason.

The entire dinner is of Andre's stories- his discoveries, his pain, his love, his awe and wonder. And of course- many of these stories I relate with. One story in particular.

Andre was an actor for many years- and for many years, he played other people- he never really knew who he was. He speaks of an experience with an improv group he participated with deep in the woods... somewhere. He and the others are told to play themselves in whatever situation/environment they throw them in. Andre panics. What would I do? What would I say in this situation? He had to discover himself. It was the first time he knew what it meant to truly be alive- to be connected to everything in life- therefore connected in death. A frightening awakening.

I have never been an actor- but for eleven years I have played the role as a "girlfriend". For once, now- I am playing the role as, just mere. What would I do? What would I say in this situation? What will I do in Africa- who will I allow myself to become?

Andre moves on to discuss his return home from these journeys. Returning home, he realizes, how horrible the world is that we live in. People are hallowed, fake, arid and empty. People are existing in a dream world, no awareness.

Which brings me to the Peace Corps. I have recently received all this information on, "What to Expect" from PC. Warnings and Cautions.. languages and culture and history. "You WILL want to go home, You WILL wonder why am I here- what is MY purpose here?" This WILL be the hardest job you'll ever love. (They love that clever but cheesy little expression they've come up with, slapping it on every document they send me). I've been given this speech so many times. It makes since. You don’t want to invest all this money and time in a person if they're just going to leave in a few months. Lets slap them with reality. Tell them all this shit they will endure so they can back out now. I’m very aware of it all. I’m still going.

I know the routine.. I know the first two months- I'll love. Everything’s new, im a celebrity, loving the attention, nothings really expected of me yet.. my mistakes are oh..cute little white girl messed up again. And the marriage proposals i'll be given.. oh cute little African man thinks i'll actually marry him and take him to the blessed USA. No. It's the 4 to 6 month mark that'll I'll need the most support. I'll remember my home, my dogs, my fan, my cereal in bed. I'll hate HATE the attention.. the strangers touching my skin, the kids following me on my late night walks screaming, How are you!? Im aware the hard part wont be adjusting to the bugs and the heat- but the bullshit beauacracy and the cultural barriers. It'll feel like i'll never be able to cope with their "ways". But...But after 6 months, i'll have that routine down. I'll think of home less... I'll start to be able to communicate in the new language. I'll have my favorite cafe, a close friend, my favorite route to walk to watch the sun set. I'll forget what a hot shower feels like. I wont care that my driver is late AGAIN who was supposed to pick me up three hours ago for a teaching lesson. I wont care about shitting in a tiny little hole invested with flies. I wont care. This is home. So fast forward all the whiney blogs you'll be getting the next 6 months. Because if there's one thing i've learned in reading current peace corps volunteer's blogs it's that pcv's are a bunch of whiners.

What I am aware of however... is not of my journey there- but my journey home- after two years. I know readjusting back "home" will be harder than readjusting overseas.

"The problem is the notion of home. The word suggests a place and a life all set up and waiting for us; all we have to do is move in. But home isn't merely a place we inhabit; it's a lifestyle we construct, a pattern of routines, habits, and behaviors associated with certain people, places, and objects all confined to a limited area or neighborhood. We can certainly construct a home back in our own culture, just as we did abroad, but there won't be one waiting for us when we arrive...No one goes home, rather we return to our native country."

I know I won't be picking up where I left off. I will be what I have done in the last two years. Two years away from the ones I will be returning to. Will they understand?

A concern I am of course worrying about far too soon. I mean- this is my life dream we're talking about here. I can't remember a time where I did not want to be apart of THE PEACE CORPS. And Africa.. my sweet sweet Africa. Every once in a while I am reminded of you. I'll be driving along the country, or maybe a lonely walk somewhere in the emptiness. And I get a smell.. a humid greasy industrial smell. It sounds awful. But it makes my heart heavy. All of a sudden I am back on those dirt streets of Bungoma. Dragging my fingers across the sugar cane fields. Ridding a boda boda to the cyber cafe. Rejecting a marriage proposal here a marriage proposal there. Hearing the screams of children, How are you! On my ritual sunset walk. Coming home to my "family" discussing the horror stories of the day. Coming home to my dear friend who just heard from home- her best friend passed away. Holding her in my arms before she collapses, telling her it'll be all right. An 80-mile an hour matatu ride through the Kenyan mountains. The wind separating between my now long braids. The rush of wind, breathing in, swallowing and filling my body with every story every smell in that sweet, simple, and dry landscape. Afraid for my life. Possibly puking into a bag.

Africa breaking me down into a thousands pieces... Africa putting me back together again- piece by piece.

I am ready. My dream is finally a week away. Words can’t describe. How will I describe any of this to you? They should have sent a poet...

Mail Mail Mail

Mail

I have received packet after packet of information about what to expect, what to tell family and friends, addresses, phone numbers. So here I shall paraphrase for you.

Mail can take anywhere from two to four weeks. If you would like to send something through the postal service, while I am in training (which lasts about two months), you can send letters and packages to the Peace Corps office:

Meredith Brooks, PCV
US Peace Corps
PO Box 2797
Mbabane H100, Swaziland
Africa

Once I move to my permanent site I will send you the new mailing address.

It is recommended that packages be sent in padded envelopes, boxes tend to be taxed. There is also no guarantee the package will get to me. When writing letters, try numbering them. So I will know if I have missed one.

If you cannot get a hold of me, if there are any worries or concerns or questions you can always contact the Swaziland desk in Washington. 1.800.424.8580 ext. 2333 or 2334 or 202.692.2333. They will some how track me down and inform me of any emergency if there is one.

Please Please email me your addresses, and keep me posted if they change. I would like to be able to write letters, as internet and phone calls will be scarce. mlbrookster@gmail.com

One more week.