To my dear friends and family -
I realized that I haven't blogged in a long time. A LONG time. And the past few times that I blogged, it was about things that were decidedly un-Peace corps or un-village life. It's not that nothing has happened since I last posted. Actually, a lot has happened. New trainees came, the president of the Gambia came to my village, we passed our one year in country AND one year of service, training ended, Ramadan began, Ramadan ended, rainy season came, my backyard became a jungle, new volunteers swore in, I got blood poisoning, we had a ton of fun parties. LOTS has happened, but I haven't felt the incredible need to write about it, nor experienced the moment where my eyes light up and I break into a huge grin and exclaim, "That was SO bloggable."
After extreme soul searching and hours of hungry boredom during Ramadan, I realized what it is.
I've become a Gambian.
No longer is it crazy to see goats and couches piled high on top of the same bush taxi. No longer do I feel strange when I go haul water for my daily bucket bath. No longer am I annoyed by having to sweep everything in my house daily because otherwise I will eat dust only. It's normal to greet in Mandinka, and holidays, although still boring, are now not mysterious ordeals. I think domoda is delicious, I've come to terms with eating a few bugs every day, and wading through knee deep mud is an expected part of my commute. As you can see from the facebook photos as of late, I have become extremely unaware of my appearance, and match the most horrible prints with other equally horrible prints.
Upon arriving in the country, and for much of the first year, I punctuated this sentence as follows. "THIS is my life?!?!?". Now, it look more like this. "This is my life." No longer does the sentence end with an interro-bang of shock and awe... now only a accepting and normal period.
So, I'm sorry. I know the stories that were once funny, gross, and or wild to me are probably still pretty shocking to others. It's like I'm no longer a tourist. When you first move to New York City, you may take pictures of Times Square, and famous street signs, and the Statue of Liberty, but after a certain amount of time they're just part of your regular life, no matter how different from your past life it is.
I don't know how to fix this problem. I'll try to remember how I felt in the beginning, and write with the same fervor and zeal. Another, even better, option, is for everyone to come and see it themselves. You should come and take the pictures that I should be taking, gasp at the sights that I no longer even see, and experience the traditions and culture that is now everyday.
Again, I'm sorry for the lack of communication. I'll be better.
I apologize very dangerously,
Abby
Abby - great post. I had a similar but less dramatic adjustment when I arrived in Autralia on 1973 for my 1st HS Math teaching job. During my first few days of orientation, I was a bit lost in the new culture, getting used to Aussie English, trying to make sense of cricket on the telly, overwhelmed with the mixture of classes I was assigned - equivalent to 6th grade up to Honors pre-calc. After a few months, I picked up an Aussie accent, got involved in rugby and the local theatre and became a temp-Aussie. She's right mate.
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