All Together Now

I could not end this Ghana blog on a depressing typhoid fever rant; that just would not do this trip justice.

Even if I would have spent the entirety of this trip with typhoid fever, malaria, and bacterial infections- I would do it all over again.

I leave Ghana in a week.
Well, as long as Ed keeps Ghana security at bay and I am not taken from my hostel in the middle of the night onto an earlier flight home at his request. Keeping my fingers crossed.

This is my life. 100 plus meals of the same fried egg sandwiches that I cannot stomach later. Staying at hostels where the power is out, the water isn't running and the security guards more often than not lose our room key....this is my life.

And soon it will be no longer.

I'm hoping to carry with me all of the incomprehensible situations I've found myself in and learned from. Flipping through the pages of journal entries and pictures, even now so much of this trip already seems like a distant memory and faraway; no matter how hard I try to hold on to these experiences.

I'm only 'home' in Illinois for about a week before I am crazy (or stupid) enough to embark on my second adventure in Nicaragua farming for the entirety of the summer with Project Bonafide. I am so thankful that I am not going back to life in America yet; I can't do it- I'm not ready.

What I'm excited for during these few days in the states is mostly food and not carrying around a sweat towel with me wherever I go, maybe restocking my Ipod with music for the next set of travels. I don't know how feasible 'catching up' with people will be; as I'm extremely weird (weirder) after this trip and don't even know how I'll be received at this point in time----but of course I have my people I'm looking forward to seeing, whether they accept my enhanced crazies or not.

These past few months have been so life altering, I fear going home and being a part of all the excess and bullshit again. I cannot live a zen Buddhist life of non judgment, I'm judging how most people live because I don't agree with it. Adjusting to the culture of home is the same as adjusting to the culture here, and no matter how hard I consciously try to live my life at home there is no way to avoid living in ways that I find disgusting enough to turn my stomach being here.

I'm going to miss not having running water, and knowing how much water I'm actually using for flushing toilets and bucket showers.
I am going to like not having to fetch water from a well or river source because of the strength and effort it took and my inability to not spill half of my bucket in transit.
It's going to be nice to not worry about whether the water I'm drinking is going to give me a waterborne illness, not sterilizing every bottle of water I buy and not using all the plastic from bottles or water sachets anymore and just turning on a tap.
I am going to miss the satisfaction of handwashing clothes and seeing them, still dirty, looking like I didn't even wash them at all- on a clothing line.
Sometimes I would fall asleep thinking about clothes I had in drawers and boxes in Vermont or Illinois and outfits I could make with them, as all of the five outfits I owned here have been completely worn through and I was missing the versatility of choosing what to wear.
But I like living out of a backpack- that's not feasible for being settled somewhere, but the idea of only carrying what you really need just makes sense- and now I think more about my favorite Swedish gender studies professor who only owns five outfits and how I can get to this point.
I will not miss all of the male attention, the harrasment, or being treated as incompetent.
I won't miss being called 'obruni' or 'yevu' or completely sticking out and being gawked at wherever I go.
Looking like everyone else, blending in as any other Vermont granola that is not given a second look sounds good to me.
I'll miss standing at unmarked junctions waiting for specific tro tros and the sense of accomplishment when I get on the right one and end up where I'm supposed to- more miraculous each time.
I won't miss trying fufu or banku to be polite to my homestay family, and smile through unswallowed bites as my eyes fill with tears in response to the taste and texture.
I'm excited to be me again and not have to keep up with the performance of being in a different culture.

I'm leaving Ghana with such mixed emotions.
I'm leaving behind some of the most incredible people I've ever met that have become not only my traveling companions, and confidantes, but my family.
This has been the most challenging, most awesome experience of my life. It's been the best of times and the worst of times....which as an aside I think A Tale of Two Cities was a horrible read.

I don't know how I'm going to adjust back to life without these people to laugh with and make fun of.
I'm not ready for all the stress of being home, even a week in America seems daunting to me.
Oh well, I will embrace my dad's anxiety on my health and comply with the poking, prodding, stool samples and blood samples that will become my new reality.
And then it will be in those moments, with a stool sample kit waiting for me in my bathroom at home in Deerfield, no doubt, that I'll say to myself- This is my life.
And then I'll be off, faraway again; re-packing and unpacking all over again, a lifestyle that for whatever reason I feel most comfortable in for the time being.