Sometimes I Really Wanna Give Up
01/01/2023
Good Morning, Charlie
03/01/2023
On a cold dark winter morning, while in my front yard, I noticed this orange and yellow sunrise peeking from the Sandia Mountains, trying to make its way through the clouds. So I took a picture.
The colors, clouds, and shadowy-visual of the rooftop on the gazebo immediately reminded me of my mud hut during my days as a Peace Corps Volunteer in the Democratic Republic of the Congo more than 30 years ago.
Honestly, I think about my experience in the Peace Corps almost every day. I was 22 years old, with a lot of spunk and energy, looking for something grand and wonderful to experience after I completed my booklet of an application and handed it in.
It took 12 months for me to leave my home and all that I knew to board a flight from JFK to the Congo. I was open to everything. I wanted to experience more. Would it be, “the toughest job I ever loved,” or not? My family and friends all thought I was crazy. “You’re not going to like it.” “All them flies.” “You’ll be back before two years.” “Do you know what you are doing?” “Denis Huxtable didn’t join the Peace Corps, Staci.”
I can’t explain the magnet Peace Corps was to me as a piece of iron. It drew me in and I couldn’t pull away if I wanted to. The wanderlust of it all controlled me. I didn’t control it.
The first stop in Africa was Burundi in the city of Bujumbura. I ate the best fruit I had ever tasted. I knew all of it came straight off the trees. Then we drove to the Congo in the city of Bukavu where I participated in strict training for three months. I could only speak French or Tshiluba and I learned the history and details of agriculture. I was stressed. After getting sworn in as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I was off to the region Kasai Oriental, in the city of Mbuji Mayi, to the village of Buzangu Luaba, to live with the Baluba tribe for the next two years of my life. I was in heaven.
I wasn’t afraid to live in my mud hut that came with scorpions, rats, ants, and whatever else. Actually, I had fun decorating my space with bright floral colors and organizing my kitchen shelves and pots, and pans just the way I wanted. That hut made of mud was the first house I lived in alone as an adult and I took it seriously. I can write on and on about my time in the Congo. The foods I ate, goat, chicken, dog, cat, rat. The things I experienced, malaria three times. And the crops that grew and didn’t grow. But I only wanted to share the morning sunrise, through a picture, that brought me back to a place I hold dear to my heart.
What are some things or experiences that have a hold on to your heart?
1 Comment
I remember when you left for the Congo. It seems like just yesterday. I was so excited for my friend of over 30 something years. How time flies? The memories you shared brought me back to the time I visited Peru. I had just become an empty nester. Alone, and starving for adventure. A good friend told me that American Airlines was hiring, so I applied, and was hired after my second interview in Dallas. When I look back I can honestly say, one of the best memories was my travels through the country of Peru. I took beautiful pictures in the jungle, inca market’s and view’s of Peru’s beautiful mountains. Oh, and the people in Peru were fascinating! So, humble and kind, a mixture of many different cultures. It was strange though because as we walked through town some Peruvian men would bow down in front of me, and chant Brazil, Brazil. The last night in Peru, I ate dinner on the terrace of a restaurant calle Mango’s. It was amazing dining. I will never forget the heavenly views, stargazing from a terrace that hung over the cliffs, above the ocean in Lima. Those mountains behind the ocean were breathtaking. I will forever cherish those memories and look forward to visiting such a beautiful place again.