Crazy Train

In America, I think I’m pretty sane – almost even keeled to a fault. Here though, I think there’s something in the water (besides amoebas) that makes us all a little crazy. Every volunteer I know experiences the same cycle of daily highs and lows. Not just good days and bad days, but good hours and bad hours, good minutes and bad minutes that come and go with the flip of a switch. My morning can be humming along, bright and sunny as could be when one off-hand comment of “you can’t speak pulaar” or hiss in the marketplace (a not-always-rude but 100% annoying occurrence) sets me off. Back home, it was only once in a blue moon that I really wanted to throw a right hook at a perfect stranger, but these days I find myself practicing more self-restraint than I’m proud of (and sometimes practicing no restraint at all, saying whatever I feel like because I know no one will understand me). That’s not to say I’m unhappy every day, just more riled up than in a previous life – in the words of another volunteer “this country reveals parts of myself that I didn’t know existed.” Many of those parts are good, some are bipolar.

As I approach the 6-month mark in village, these highs and lows seem to be dissipating and I feel less crazy day-to-day. Hopefully by the time I get back to an English speaking country my habit of telling people off in public doesn’t end up with me getting socked in the face.