I’m sitting next to a pile of magazines and articles for future college and RPCV travel opportunities as a “Return.Peace.Corps.Volunteer”. Yes it is already time to start planning ahead for my life after Peace Corps service…I can’t believe it’s been a year. I can’t fathom another year. I trust it will be even better than the first.

I have learned to be myself. To let go of living to others expectations. That following my heart will probably include having to let some people down. That life is what I make it. That I don’t have to talk about EVERYTHING.  How to say ‘No’. How to give small things with great intent. That the most magical things are within the most simple. That people love me for who I am more than what I do. That vainity is really skin deep and true beauty is within. How to do nothing; which is something very important. How education and knowledge are great, great gifts not to be taken for granted. That with great knowledge comes great responsibility. That all I must do is care for the light inside me and see others for who they truly are.

Seeing yesterday as any other day, shows me how normalized my Africa life has become:

While waiting for the bus I unconsciously sat down by a pile of garbage twice the size of myself, opened a bag of MSG coated chips and munched away while watching 100s of flies buzz around the trash. A young mother came over to pick out an empty plastic coke bottle and dropped it on the ground where her infant son sat on the concrete chewing on a dirty plastic bag.

After 2 hours the bus came and I sat in back with 2 woman (one of which was 3x all our size) and one gentlemen who smelt like old food and bad BO. The backrow is the size of a 2-door KIA car’s backseat. To fit all four of us, I had to shove my shoulder under the man’s armpit. Halfway though the ride I felt the dampness of his perspiration soak into the right sleeve of my sweatshirt.

I was tired. It was my second bus ride of the day. On the first bus I sat in front and was proposed to be a man older than my Dad. He said he had many cows.

I was looking forward to getting home after two weeks away. I opened the door to my house and there where spiders everywhere with webs as thick as cheesecloth. Bat poop was scattered on my bedside table. Both water buckets where molded (I forgot to empty them before leaving). All four kids followed me in to play with their toy cars in the middle of my house. The second eldest told me excitingly that there was a big snake on my roof yesterday! Great. The Christmas tree was still up and I felt suddenly alone. ‘Why am I here?’ I thought.

I sat down on the couch exhausted. Then in true Africa style, my heart was again won over. The eldest, Lethu, came over and sat next to me to entertain us with a new techno beat on his cell-phone. The youngest, Nthlanthla, ran over and plopped himself in the middle to grab my arm and kiss it. Thuthugo, the quiet middle one, sat on my rug and stared up at me with a wide smile. I saw that they where not there to get something. They missed me and where there simply to be with me. So that’s what it feels like.

It’s so humbling when we have nothing to offer to another and they want to spend their time with us. Unconditional love. At home it feels like we must peel away many layers to get to this point. So much to-do, other things to choose, entertainment, and emotional complexities.Here I’ve lost count of the times spent sitting in the grass for house with a friend. Nothing to say or do; it’s grandly simple.

Today I awoke after sleeping 12 hours. It’s been two weeks of climbing mountains, sleeping in caves on beds of straw, and camping in the rain. I loved every day of it (and every minute of sleeping in my own bed last night)!

In the afternoon, two neighbor girls came by for help with a college application. One had no money to make a phone call to the registration office to check her status of acceptance.

After an unsuccessful phone call from my cell, she explained how difficult it is for girls raised in rural villages to go to college. She said ‘we have no computers to apply or money to fax or call so most end up staying here fetching water, wood, to wash and to cook.’ She is hoping to get a degree in psychology. I told her to keep hope; first step is admittance then we can work on scholarships.

There are many inspirational young girls in the village; so much promise with little hope. All I can do is encourage them to not give up.

The sun it setting, the cows are coming in for the day, and I am boiling rice for dinner.

This is my African life. Let it rain; the gardens are growing. I can choose to see the garbage or the people’s smiles. I’m never alone.