a year in

I feel the way I think changing. naturally. after something so different for so long, being daily approached and frustratingly reproached by aliens, staring off into skies and silent abysses when I run short of foreign speech. returning to site is tripping back to neverland. I've alluded to it before, lost boys and the sahelian jungle, with makeshift banquets, lawlessness, construction of emotional and enduring bonds. different kinds of fun going on here, different ways of living.

I feel like only remarkable people have the natural gift of objectivity. rather, my instincts move me to subject myself to my village. after dealing with locals and the elements, a whole morning of dragging feet and dicking around, I happen to be cruising my bike and feel myself slipping into a different character. a son, one who should be grateful that he gets fed every meal and has all his clothes washed by women who don't bitch, one who should work in the fields with his family, if only because they want me to be there with them, to share the experience. they're extremely proud of their work, they carry it with more truth than I've seen anyone else pull off. amazing grace.

but it's a double edged sword. there's a noticeable lack of creativity here, lack of knowledge and in need of progress, critical thinking. it's stifling. I strangely enjoy the desperate admissions by other volunteers, that they feel stuck, hopeless, unmotivated. I enjoy it because I share it on some fundamental level. I'm split between empathy for us and empathy for them. and all I figure after all the thinking I do in the bush is that we're all the same. just different places, different circumstances. we're all human, and you can't convince me otherwise. entreprenuers, thieves, mothers, laborers, etc. people who have seen it can argue with me, people who haven't, can't. but I wouldn't want anyone to take my word for it...

some family ameriki came out. they bought a cow and we had a dancing party. a lot of good feelings despite the incredible differences. the last few days were a rigid contrast to normalcy and yet another perspective for my consciousness. it was brief but striking, and I'm grateful for their visit.

I wish I could tell more about the past year, but it would be a lot of ideas and concepts I'm having difficulty literalizing. so until next time, the next chapter in fun.

state of mind

the only negativity to speak of is american nostalgia. of material things, delicious foods and access to the right substances, the right people. otherwise I'm riding a huge fucking wave of contentment, the good life, dashed with happinesses of progress with projects and accomplishments at site. marembilia wants new nyegens and is learning to work with cement and fix pumps. all the pushin of pdrik finally saw some dudes out to fix the school's roof. the ladies are stoked on the soon to come garden. they know they don't know everything and want me to teach them new shit. community composting, urine fertilization, natural pesticide. sweet.

family life and love like I've never experienced. I can't wait to get back to mine. not like it's never been there, I was always just too much of an ass to see what the hell was going on. if these people can look past all the cultural differences, and all the shit I purposefully do to irritate them out of stubbornness with western ideals, then I'd say the human spirit can be quite triumphant. we're talking about having nothing in common, at all, but still finding the soul to joke, laugh, lay, love. dance and hold hands. grow and smoke. and now, work with each other to save lives and give chances. I really like helping people, but I'm sort of an inconsiderate prick. so I'm finding out how much I can get away with while giving some back at the same time. right now it's a fun beam to balance.

was just in bamako for the new stage's swear-in. lots of drinking and dancing, seeing old places and meeting new faces. fitting in work at the office and on the computer. fighting the rain and traffic and relationship fallout. we're a messy bunch, this is africa. if you're new here then just wait... we're moving the transit house in kita. new fridge and oven and mac desktop. I'm on it now and it's pretty slick, for fighting third world food insecurity with fancy technology. so no more sewage-filled nyegens, shitty murals or sticky bathrooms. someone's got our back...

but what's it all for? do we deserve all this, especially after assuming the role of resident fuckhead for leaving america to live in one of the hardest places to survive? is all this hoopla over development a worthwhile endeavor? lots of questions.

all I know is that speaking in a strictly utilitarian manner, I totally dig this right now, and I'm more satisfied than I've ever been. I've seen faces on my villagers that I bet are one in millions, after a good day of work or a conversation about america. I feel like so much happiness has been bred out of this experience... but at what cost? does this satisfying lack of self in turn breed mediocrity or dependency on the first world? I'm gonna have to say fuck that, because day after day I do less and less. and the person after me will do less than I did because thank fucking god for the small shifts toward institutional knowledge we volunteers are supporting.

damn I'm rambling, I'll finish with a little something from someone else...

"I'm realizing that the real impact is in putting us young, perhaps naive, but ambitious and courageous volunteers in the places most marred by global economics, politics, natural disaster and misfortune, where we can better understand the functioning of the world, and what roles we can play to better it. so if all this can be imprinted in the minds of even some of the 200,000 peace corps volunteers this world has seen so far, it is achieving something extraordinary."