Winds of Change

Infusing Conclusion with Preface

It’s happening again. Everything is changing. As always, it feels like a crazy force is moving underneath my feet like a treadmill with the force and stability of a sandstorm. In late August, I’m moving to Copenhagen to attend a yearlong Master of Disaster Management program at the University of Copenhagen in Denmark as well as Lund University in Malmo, Sweden. It’s a joint program, split between the two schools.

Essentially the program aims to address disaster management in a holistic way, focusing on project development and coordination in all phases of disaster, be it natural or man-made. This is my dream program. I have been looking at it for the past three or four years, and now I’m going.

But hold up, let me explain some things first. I have always (“always” in this case actually means as far back as I can remember rather than the typical twenty something “always” referring the the 10 minute gap between now and the last time they “liked” something on Facebook) felt a sort of calling to do disaster response work. Add that with an inexplicable need to uproot my life at least once or twice a year from any given geographic location, more experience than I would like to admit with PTSD (both with and without a machete over my chest), a general disdain for a routine lifestyle, and frustration with inaction on social issues… Alas, here I am.

The past few months have both flown and crept by at the same time. It has been really hard being away from the family that I formed around me while I was there, but I have grown in many ways which were quite necessary since returning. I went back to volunteering with the American Red Cross, in multiple positions. On that note, I was sent to respond to Hurricane Irene in Pennsylvania, which only intensified my desire to stay in the field. I have also worked as a Site Manager at the Eastside Winter Shelter. Through this, I got to see another side of disaster, as it pertained to homelessness. Many would disagree with my reference to homelessness as disaster, but I would happily challenge them. Perhaps it involves adjusting your perception of time associated with the word disaster, but I fully believe it fits.

As the shelter closed for the season, I am again between jobs, but continue to volunteer my time. However, now that I have been accepted to grad school, I have a lot of paperwork to get sorted. First off, it’s amazing how little funding is available for students attending a school overseas for a full program. There are plenty of study abroad funding options, but only if it’s through a US school. Student loans, whether from private institutions or government, are nearly unavailable. So while I don’t officially have a job, navigating this process has effectively become a comparable replacement. So far, there has only been one grant I have qualified for, and the application is in Danish. I have had the help of a Swedish friend and Google translate, and think I will be able to submit an application.

It is a little crazy to me that by the time I leave, I will have been home almost a year. I use the term home, but that word is becoming so ridiculously relative that I don’t entirely know what it means. I’ve been living with my parents since I’ve been back, staying in the same room that I had growing up. There is a strange, yet sometimes comforting, nostalgia in this particular chapter of my life. Almost as if there has been a purpose for me in reestablishing myself in the place I grew up. Seems important, as it feels this time that when I leave, the concept of coming back on any permanent level is highly unlikely. As much as I am from here, I lack an identity from any particular place. I find comfort and belonging with what I call the “international crowd”— the people who are looking around without a definitive sense of belonging to any one place, living in the cracks between societies no matter where they were actually born. For me, “home” has become a suitcase, the people people around me I adopt as family, and a ceaseless need to give of myself where ever I am.

Money, security, stability— Those things will all work out. If they don’t, things will change. Now wouldn’t that be something new… By August 2013, I am hoping to have a job working in the field, doing the very disaster work I am being trained in. My mom says that she is just glad there is one more year that I will be living in a safe place, and she may have a point. Regardless, I know this is the right path for me, no matter what obstacles there are to face. The rest will work itself out.

It’s time to go, and I feel it with every fiber. Now there’s just the paperwork. Ok, that made it sound as if the paperwork was something minor before I’m gone, but this is the part where I insert the next three months…

Light in the Dark

You know, sometimes it’s funny. I named this blog “Winds of Change”, yet I had no idea how much change they would actually be describing. For that matter, I didn’t even fully understand the type of change that I would experience—would it be something that I changed about the community I’m serving in or something more introspective or personal? Looking back over the last year (plus a little more), there has been a flood of change of varying degrees and sorts, and usually when it is most profound, it is intensely uncomfortable while it’s happening; however, looking back after those intense changes, the most undoubting sense of accomplishment follows. All I can do is listen to that inner voice, the one everyone has, and do what feels right. Think too much, and there only seems to be more trouble.

I have truly come to the conclusion that love is what is most important in life. I’m not necessarily talking about love in a romantic sense, yet it certainly still falls into the category as well. It seems to me that people who always have love in the back of their mind as a guiding force do better things. It may sound overly idealistic or whatever you may call it, yet I in absolutely no way think that it is. In my own darkest hour, it always feels the best when someone genuinely cares enough to sit with me in my miserable state and just give me time of day, despite anything else that may or may not be going on in their life. Friends that feel like family. Seeing the joy on someone’s face when you make them a coffee in the morning, and set it in front of them on a brutally cold morning. Talking with the people you may not have seen for months or years, yet it feels like you saw yesterday. Or even getting that feeling that you have some deep, inexplicable connection with someone you have never even met before. All of these things are reasons that I can keep moving. When it gets hard, I have to stop and focus on the simple, little, sometimes nearly unseen acts of love that intertwine us all.

And yet it would be too simple to say that love is the only relevant force in the world. In fact, I would argue that our true tests in life come when this concept is challenged. As a volunteer abroad, it is sometimes especially clear that this is a test of our faith in love. We made a choice to leave the very people who have made our lives what they are today. This is a challenge for everyone involved, and certainly carries consequences. Living far away from friends and family (and friends who may as well be family), giving up some of the expected standards of a typical American life, be it income, social positioning, work ethic, or whatever else seems relevant here. The point is purely that delving into that dark place we all find ourselves at times, is the true test in our faith in love’s power to bring things back to normal.

It is here that we find the benefit of contrast. In the darkest place, one beam of light seems like the sun itself. Yet that same beam of light placed in a well lit space can nearly seem invisible, as it blends in almost entirely at times. In this, a point needs to be made. Just because it is harder to find the light in a brighter place does not change the intensity of the light itself. To make this more relevant, love may be more noticeable when things go bad; however, the power and force of the love is the same no matter how noticeable it is in the surroundings. It is only human to act based on what we can see; however, we must never forget how important any act of good or love is, no matter how visible it is to us at the time. This is especially important to remember when making our own decisions because it is just as important to do the right thing, even if no one notices. That little voice that leads to the gut feeling, yeah that’s where this comes in. Someone else may not notice, but you’ll know that you did the right thing.

For me sometimes the hardest part is remembering to take care of myself as much as the people around me. Something as simple as just pushing forward when it gets rough is sometimes just as difficult as being there for someone else in their own moment of need. Both actions come out of love, both provide a test, and neither is less important the other.

Change is essential. Change is vital. More than anything, change is inevitable. Might as well just embrace it and keep going.

It Starts …Again

This has without a doubt been one of the strangest parts of my entire life. At the end of July, I went to a training for Peace Corps, what we refer to as Reconnect, for two and a half weeks in Windhoek. I was reunited with my Peace Corps group, and despite the sometimes gruelingly long sessions, truly enjoyed being there. It was here that I realized just how important surrounding myself with people who could really understand me was. Essentially, we just had the opportunity to hang out together without any particular stress or schedule, but still could feel productive during the day at the sessions. After the two and a half weeks, almost everyone was going stir crazy, and needed to escape.

A group of us spent the next week or so travelling to see both the Zambian and Zimbabwean sides of Victoria Falls. Let me stress, it is a long way away from Windhoek. It takes at least six hours to get to Rundu, another five and a half to Katima, and finally the last two and a half hours north to Livingstone, Zambia. We broke it into three days on the way up, stopping for the night in both Rundu and Katima to see friends. The hostel was totally surreal, it felt like a bastion of the western world in the most random of places. All of the people there seemed to be white travelers from a western country, and were typically tourists. Many of us were in shock at first, but then found a niche for themselves. Yet for me, this was incredibly difficult, as I don’t really know how to do the tourist thing. In fact, being a tourist tends to make me intense degrees of uncomfortable, as it even feels disrespectful at times to the local culture. All that aside, Victoria Falls was absolutely incredible, and some of the people that I met at the hostel provided incredibly good conversation. Imagine a waterfall  five kilometers wide that falls into a giant crevasse, while you stand on the opposite side of the same crevasse with you jaw on the floor as you look at the falls. That would be a good starting point in your imagination, but it’s so much more than that.

On the way back things got much more interesting. Before we even made it out of Zambia, a taxi driver scammed us out of a lot of money when we got to the town just north of the Namibian border, and left us far enough away that we would need another taxi to get to the border itself. After finally getting to Rundu, let’s just say it wasn’t any easier.

The next morning, a few of us were on our way to Windhoek, where I ended up getting stuck for a while before ultimately ending up where I am now, at home in Seattle. It has been interesting being back, yet I’m happy to say that my time in Namibia is far from over. Seeing family and my friends who may as well be family has been amazingly nice. It has proved even more how important they are in my life, and just how much is missing without them. Finding a way to balance my need to travel and change with my own need for community is only more clearly defined now.

Just when I thought I was cleared to return to Namibia, I got sick. A doctor said it was strep throat, but the next day my temperature was at around 104 degrees Fahrenheit. I was told to go into the ER, and after being tested for malaria, influenza, general infection, and strep, it was clear to the doctor that I just had a really bad case of strep. In the next couple of days I started feeling much better, but the paperwork with Peace Corps was posing a problem. I was close to the 45 day limit on my stay at home, yet it wasn’t clear what paperwork was even still needed. Thankfully, I got the call that everything was cleared on Friday, and that I would be put on a flight over the weekend. Intially, I was supposed to leave less than 24 hours later, but that was pushed back until the following day.

Now here I sit, the night before I’m leaving to go back to Namibia. It seems as hard to leave the people here as it ever has been, yet is more clear than ever that I need to finish what I started. At this point, I am starting to feel that those personal growth moments are the ones that suck the most. Yet I still go.

Workaholic vs. Burnout

Life has been busy for me ever since I got here, which naturally, I really enjoy. There have been plenty of 12 plus hour work days, and many, many times that work comes home with me. However, I have also discovered that there is a fine line between being a workaholic and a professional burnout. Working hard for long hours is honestly what I like to do; however, without a life outside of work this can quickly become all consuming.

As I have said before, much of my job is working with orphans and vulnerable children. I have been supervising a soup kitchen twice a week, working some with regional data that comes into our office to compile a report with my counterpart for the Catholic AIDS Action National office each month, and doing some supervision visits around the Omaheke region. However, that is really just the official part of my job. Anytime we do a workshop, I get a lot busier because I have generally four or five presentations in a week for our participants, which can be on any range of issues, and last between one and three hours each. At the same time, workshop weeks are also weeks which I can tend to end up helping with the catering for the workshop itself. This is something I enjoy, but it certainly can add to the list of things that I have to do. Many times all of these different things are happening at the same time, and I legitimately need to be at all of them at once; thus I end up running around all day trying to just keep on top of the various tasks before they can consume me.

After a few weeks of this, I started to notice myself withdrawing. I was easily frustrated, and would isolate myself from everyone, sometimes just by locking myself in my office because I didn’t want to deal with anyone or sometimes by not interacting with people in the way that was needed. However, one of the biggest problems for me was when there stopped being a separation between work and home.

One day I was looking at a burnout self test that I had created a PowerPoint presentation, and there were only two things left unchecked. It was as if reality had come knocking at my door. Naturally, I couldn’t change everything overnight, but I could start making sure that I got enough sleep, only worked at home when absolutely necessary, and taking time for myself as I needed to. I also started to pay attention to my needs when I needed to get out of here, and travel, even for just the day, to our different sites. Making the realization was the first step; however, there has been a lot of improvement from there.

You should all know that I am fine, and have not burned out; however, I was closer than I like to admit. Recognizing who I am, and what I need as been extremely productive.

I have done a lot of walking around in the community as well, and for many reasons, I work in a very tough community. The office that I work at is in Epako, a location of Gobabis; however, it is less than a block away from the informal settlements. In the settlements, it is VERY poor. There are no toilets, and so people use the bushes, there’s only running water at specific water points, the population density is extreme, the unemployment is greater than 80 percent, and many children are not going to school. Some of the things that you see walking around are very difficult to even get your mind around. In many of my interviews that I did, people would say that while HIV/AIDS was a major health factor, many were concerned mainly with day to day survival. This could be in terms of food and water, basic hygiene and sanitation, or poverty as a whole.

Self Discovery

It’s official. I have figured out one of my absolute greatest needs. It is completely necessary for me to be on the move, yet have a place to come back to. All that this means to me is that I am a perfect mix of my parents. My mom is very much of a community person, who requires a place to call home, and friends which are a 100 percent support network. However, my dad is much different. He requires change, new projects and experiences. When I was little, on many weekends we all went hiking together. We would get to the trail, no matter how far away it actually was, and then do the hike, but when we got back to the car, my mom and dad always fought about how to get back home. My dad never wanted to go back the way we came because it had been done, and there was something new to see if we went the other way. My mom on the other hand just wanted to get home at this point because for her the adventure was done, and she just wanted to get back home. The part that my dad never wanted to tell my mom, yet she always knew, was that the different way back was usually longer, largely gravel roads, with twists and turns with some sudden mountainside drop-off immediately next to the car. For her, this wasn’t an adventure, it was just annoying.

I’m their totally hybrid. The itchy feet, the need to just get up and go, and the need for constant change is something which I have in many ways taken to a new level from my dad. However, I need a community, a family, and a place to call home. I need to be able to have somewhere to come back to. It’s taken a long time for me to realize how necessary both of these things are in my life; however, here I am.

Until now, I had kind of known how important both were to me, but I had never actually realized that both were necessary at the same time. Yet, now I realize that they must coexist rather than operate in phases. My mom has always said that I have itchy feet, but it’s much more than that. Yes, the need to get up and go is absolutely necessary for me, but it’s also like my dad. I need change, I need something different. Doing the same things is just as difficult as going the same places. However, I still need that support network, the sense of a home. You know the feeling that when you get home it’s so nice to be back in a place where everything is familiar, where everyone knows you and you know everyone, where the people you really love and care about have a place to share with you, and where you know can have a sense of normalcy that nowhere else can ever hold.

So how did I come to this? Here I am in Namibia, on the other side of the planet from my normal stomping grounds, and yet I have felt that need creeping up on me for a while again. I now have routines, a sense of a normal life, and it’s driving me crazy. Tomorrow, I leave for Windhoek for training and then to go up to see Victoria Falls. In this, I will be gone for almost a month. However, there are many reasons that I am excited. For starters, this is new, and I have been craving to do something that is out of the normal again. However, it is also that I am getting a chance to see many people who really understand me. It’s a chance to mix both of my needs, and I couldn’t be more excited.

In fact for the first time in months, I have a sense of that rare kind of happiness which is nearly uncontrollable. I cannot even remember the last time that I have been completely and utterly consumed by happiness in this way. When I first came here, there was a lot that I felt like I was leaving behind, and a sense of guilt kind of kept me from this feeling. However, when left unbridled, this feeling is intoxicating, and is honestly necessary. This is what I have to live on.

For me, this is the reason that I want to work in disaster situations around the world. Not only do I get to help the people whom I interact with, but I also get to go for a few months at a time before changing places, jobs, and more. Every situation is required to be completely adaptable, and for me, that couldn’t be a better situation. However, I also get to come home. Come to a place where I can recharge, be with the people I love; however, then it’s just as important that I get to go into the unknown again.

So in the long term, this makes sense to me; however, I only have questions for myself about the next two years. How will I be able to balance my needs with a semi-permanent type position? How can I travel enough for my own needs? What are my needs while I’m still here? The questions just keep rolling; yet there are some certainties.

The New Normal

I have been at my site, which is in Gobabis, for three weeks now. Everyone warned me that I would be excruciatingly bored for at least the first little while, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I have worked 10-12 hour days almost every day, and still have plenty to do by the time that I get home.

As a workaholic, I hit the jackpot. My would-be counterpart got a promotion, and transferred to another region; thus I’m picking up his responsibilities on top of the things that I am trying to start. Primarily, I work with OVC’s (orphans and vulnerable children). This comes in the form of soup kitchens, after school programs, and much more. There are a lot of other projects that we have discussed starting, amongst them is starting a backyard garden program in an area called Gae-Tama Oas!, which is an informal settlement. Essentially, people in this area put a house together out of whatever materials are available on government land, and live there. Some houses are made out of scrap metal; others mix materials, and can be cardboard, cloth, or really anything else that can be pieced together. The poverty level makes food and water security a serious concern, thus starting gardens will drastically help their situation. 

My job allows me to travel a lot, especially within my region, which has been very nice. It gives me a chance to breathe, a chance to get out of my own little world, and a chance to experience more of this country without having to pay money that I don’t have. In the morning, I’m leaving for Swakopmund, and get to visit one of my Peace Corps friends while I’m out there. It’s ridiculous how excited I am. Everyone tells me that I have to see Swakopmund, and I have found a way to go, see a friend, and work all at the same time. It’s on the coast, which will be amazing (and amazingly cold this time of year).

Last week, a storm hit Gobabis that in under an hour did 2.3 million Namibian dollars worth of damage. As I am trying to work towards a career in disaster relief, this was great experience for me. I went around the community doing damage assessment, taking pictures, and talking to people about what happened. Roofs were ripped off all kinds of buildings, water flooded houses, and life was severely disturbed in a very short amount of time. All that said, I am safe, nothing of mine was damaged, and for all of that I am incredibly thankful. For many people, it made life more difficult, and for just as many it seems that life has remained normal. As a volunteer, I am certainly looking to help in whatever way I can.

As far as my sanity goes, it’s been up and down. Basically every time I start to feel used to something, it changes. It’s practically a guarantee at this point. Of course I take it day by day, and I know that in comparison to what life could have been, my transition and culture shock is very minimal. It’s funny because sometimes I kind of wish that it had been harder, but at other moments, I really enjoy the fact that it has been similar enough to be easy on me. My saving grace has been that much of this experience hasn’t been new. I’ve lived away from home, moved away from everything I know, had an ocean between my girlfriend and I, and had to operate primarily in a language that I really don’t speak. None of this is foreign to me. At the same time, the degree of change has been so much more intense than I’ve experienced before that it has been shocking at times. I’m just glad that I have enough experience to take this in strides, and not be overwhelmed all at once.

I miss everyone of course! With the constant state of change, I have needed my friends more than ever, but have also been living a life that makes that very difficult. Certainly, I have no complaints, but I still miss everyone horribly. There are moments when it’s hard to bear, but the crazy work hours make things a lot easier. It makes it possible to distract myself, and then, and sometimes only then, can I bring myself back to a state of reality.

There of course will always be more to say, but honestly, I’m hungry, and food is winning over my will to write. Thus, I will write more at a later date.

And of course, as I won’t have internet for the next few days, let me just say happy Mother’s day to my mom, and any other mom who happens to be reading this! Being this far way really does make me think about how much was done right growing up, by my mom and all the adopt-a-mom’s that I’ve had. It really means a lot. Know that you are loved, and thank you for everything.

Overdue

I can’t believe that it’s already been a month. Emotionally, I feel like I have been dragged in every concievable direction, as if there was a roller coaster on a roller coaster. In this way, I felt partially prepared, but how can one be ready for culture shock on repeat? I have two host families in two very different parts of Namibia. In Okahanja, where I have been doing my training, I live with a small family in town. After just three weeks, I feel as though I am one of them. Being taken in by strangers, and feeling like a part of the family within a month is a truely amazing feeling. Honestly, I feel as though I have been a part of the family for months not weeks.

Yesterday I found out that my site for the next two years is in Gobabis, which is about two hours from the capital, and an hour from Botswana. Today I left Okahanja for a week long site visit, which serves the purpose of really getting an idea of what I will be doing for my service. I met my host family here, whom I will live with for the first three months. However, as I said before, I am only here for a week right now, but will be moving here in a month after my training is done.

My training has been teaching me about various technical aspects of my position, including topics like HIV/AIDS, safety and security, the Peace Corps rules, and more general health topics as well. I have also been learning to speak Africaans, and have felt both struggles and successes. I passed my mid language test with a novice high score, which I was very happy with.

This has been a very strange post in my mind, but know that I’m safe and pushing through what many have said is the hardest part of service. I will write more very soon. This time I will be better! Totsiens.