I find myself in Guinea once more, for a week. I’m working for a few days, doing some training, and packing up my LIFE. I feel like Guinea deserves one last inspirational post.
My time in Guinea has flown by, as I knew it would. Coming back to my apartment, with my cats, and my things, and my neighbors, and my hidden neighborhood bakery, feels like visiting a past life. I arrived in 2012, equal parts jet lagged, exuberant and terrified. I vividly remember arriving at the hectic, noisy airport, not understanding most of what was said, or what was going on. I hoisted myself into an SUV with a cat in a bag that meowed desperately every time our eyes met. As we dodged traffic, people, and pot holes on the drive to my apartment, I remember thinking, what the….
Where am I? What am I doing? I sat in an empty room with huge water stains on the walls and beautiful crown molding, petting my big American cat, contemplating the heavily used spotted mattress that sat upon a large pink pressboard platform bed frame. No sheets, no pillows, no plates or pans or spoons.
What have I done? Should I touch that bed? I’m thirsty; do I really have to use that backpacking filter? I wonder if I can get back on the plane... Why don’t I have tissues, or any other paper product? What am I doing with my LIIIIIIIIIFEEEEEE?
I would like to think that I am not alone, and that lots of people think to themselves, oh crap, I have erred. But now, I’m on the other side. I pushed myself to a level that I had not known possible. Sure, I (said that I) was confident in my abilities, but theoretical confidence and I’ve been there done that confidence are different. I’ve met amazing people, who have shaped my life in ways that I could not have imagined. I’ve tested the limits of my friendships, and while some have faded, many have become brighter, tighter bonds than ever before. People had my back. When I faced challenges, my friends came to the rescue, and read through many mass email novellas and wrote back insightful responses.
Guinea has given me many things, such as salmonella and amoebas. But also stories and strength. Once I had a fever that was so high, it took me an hour to drag a cushion, a blanket, and a laptop onto my balcony. I proceed to lie there, in 90°F heat, under a comforter, freezing. But it passed and I was fine. On a beach stroll, I stepped on something, leaving a tiny break in the skin on my toe. The next night, I had a serious infection that was heading up my leg in a bright angry if I get to your heart I’m gonna mess you up line. I popped some antibiotics, and I was fine. We had elections, which was accompanied by protests, gun shots, and a machete fight in the interior of the country (potentially not politically motivated?), but I stayed, and it was fine. Right? It was all fine. So now, when I come up against a challenge, I think, ok, well it probably won’t physically kill me, so it’ll be fine. I’m not going to crack like an egg, I’m resilient and flexible and whatnot.
Brace yourself for the inspiration. Ready?
So it’ll be FINE. And if you work at it, it’ll be AMAZING. I’ve done a lot of surviving, but also a lot of LIVING in Guinea. I’ve touched monkeys and made fires on the beach and made merry. I’ve throw caution to the wind and danced like no one was watching (and everyone was always watching because I’m a foreigner, ergo people think that Americans dance WEIRD because of me). And I’ve developed brutally honest supportive loving relationships. I’ve learned what bull I won’t take, and how to eat egg sandwiches. Life is a journey and I’m not perfect, but I’m giving it a go. So GO give it a go, you’ll be fine. You’re a rock star. Your limitations are those you put on yourself. And because we all love Ghandi, be the change you want to see in the world. Don’t like litter? Super, pick it up. Think it’s unfair that kids still die from unclear water? Great, go do something about that. The world doesn’t need your sympathy or facebook causes posts, it needs your ACTIONS. So go ahead little bird, out of the nest with you. You’ll be fine.
My time in Guinea has flown by, as I knew it would. Coming back to my apartment, with my cats, and my things, and my neighbors, and my hidden neighborhood bakery, feels like visiting a past life. I arrived in 2012, equal parts jet lagged, exuberant and terrified. I vividly remember arriving at the hectic, noisy airport, not understanding most of what was said, or what was going on. I hoisted myself into an SUV with a cat in a bag that meowed desperately every time our eyes met. As we dodged traffic, people, and pot holes on the drive to my apartment, I remember thinking, what the….
Where am I? What am I doing? I sat in an empty room with huge water stains on the walls and beautiful crown molding, petting my big American cat, contemplating the heavily used spotted mattress that sat upon a large pink pressboard platform bed frame. No sheets, no pillows, no plates or pans or spoons.
What have I done? Should I touch that bed? I’m thirsty; do I really have to use that backpacking filter? I wonder if I can get back on the plane... Why don’t I have tissues, or any other paper product? What am I doing with my LIIIIIIIIIFEEEEEE?
I would like to think that I am not alone, and that lots of people think to themselves, oh crap, I have erred. But now, I’m on the other side. I pushed myself to a level that I had not known possible. Sure, I (said that I) was confident in my abilities, but theoretical confidence and I’ve been there done that confidence are different. I’ve met amazing people, who have shaped my life in ways that I could not have imagined. I’ve tested the limits of my friendships, and while some have faded, many have become brighter, tighter bonds than ever before. People had my back. When I faced challenges, my friends came to the rescue, and read through many mass email novellas and wrote back insightful responses.
Guinea has given me many things, such as salmonella and amoebas. But also stories and strength. Once I had a fever that was so high, it took me an hour to drag a cushion, a blanket, and a laptop onto my balcony. I proceed to lie there, in 90°F heat, under a comforter, freezing. But it passed and I was fine. On a beach stroll, I stepped on something, leaving a tiny break in the skin on my toe. The next night, I had a serious infection that was heading up my leg in a bright angry if I get to your heart I’m gonna mess you up line. I popped some antibiotics, and I was fine. We had elections, which was accompanied by protests, gun shots, and a machete fight in the interior of the country (potentially not politically motivated?), but I stayed, and it was fine. Right? It was all fine. So now, when I come up against a challenge, I think, ok, well it probably won’t physically kill me, so it’ll be fine. I’m not going to crack like an egg, I’m resilient and flexible and whatnot.
Brace yourself for the inspiration. Ready?
So it’ll be FINE. And if you work at it, it’ll be AMAZING. I’ve done a lot of surviving, but also a lot of LIVING in Guinea. I’ve touched monkeys and made fires on the beach and made merry. I’ve throw caution to the wind and danced like no one was watching (and everyone was always watching because I’m a foreigner, ergo people think that Americans dance WEIRD because of me). And I’ve developed brutally honest supportive loving relationships. I’ve learned what bull I won’t take, and how to eat egg sandwiches. Life is a journey and I’m not perfect, but I’m giving it a go. So GO give it a go, you’ll be fine. You’re a rock star. Your limitations are those you put on yourself. And because we all love Ghandi, be the change you want to see in the world. Don’t like litter? Super, pick it up. Think it’s unfair that kids still die from unclear water? Great, go do something about that. The world doesn’t need your sympathy or facebook causes posts, it needs your ACTIONS. So go ahead little bird, out of the nest with you. You’ll be fine.