You'd think that during a Peace Corp Volunteer's first month of service at site, she or he would feel like a badass, like a lean, mean world traveler, dropped off alone in some random location in a forlorn corner of the world, forced to utilize the 10 weeks of language and culture learning to her or his best ability, and also have to continuosly emit the diplomatic and politically correct air of an embassador.
Well, technically I am doing all those things, but actually I've been feeling like I did, twelve, fifteen years ago. Yes, feeling exactly how I used to as a child. Let me explain.
I've lost most of my independence. For starters, I don't have a car, and don't know where most things are (I can get to the city, Danachi, and the school by myself, although relying on the public transportation's schedules); if I need to get somewhere I need help arranging a ride via a taxi, or a grandpa, uncle, brother, etc. who has a car.
I get toted around, more like a doll than a finely cultivated human being, to people's houses who I don't know and have never been in before. I can't participate in the "grown-up" conversations because I can't understand the language. I have to stay until the adults decide it's time for me to go.
I don't have intellectual conversations anymore. I get asked the same questions over and over again, as a child does. "How old are you? Do you have a mother, father? How many brothers and sisters? Which is better, America or here? . . . " etc.
I have to deal with other people's kids. I'm not talking about about at school--because that's one place where I get reprieve because I am clearly in an adult position over my students--but in the home. I used to babysit a lot, and being trapped in a house with unruly children is nostalgic, not in the good way, but in the oh god, why is this happening to me again, I thought I got past this way.
I have to hide my "naughtiness" and lie to my mom: "Yes, of course the boys at the party slept in the other room . . . No, I don't drink, I don't like it . . . Yes, we're engaged, in fact I want to have my girl's wedding at Terane Soray (the village wedding hall)! . . . " etc. (Although the last one isn't a full lie, I am playing with the idea of having a wedding here. It would be so fun! But probably won't be able to afford it.)
My adult relationship with my significant other has been reduced to texting and Skyping.
Like when I was a teenager, I am unhappy about my figure and feel the nagging need to do stupid little exercises, and also to eat less food.
I eat the food that my mom prepares for me, have to get up early every week day for school, and endure the constant badgering of a younger bother.
Worst of all, it is winter, and a freakishly snowy one at that. So all I ever feel like doing is burrowing myself in the house and hibernating like a fat bear. Give me warm milk and let me watch Cartoon Network all day! (one of the few English channels we have)
So yes, these are the situations that are creating in me emotions that I haven't had in a long time. It's a litle bit surreal, like having a chance to be a child again. Although I didn't particulary want to relive childhood (I was a perfectly happy young adult), it's still an interesting experience nonetheless.
I'm not really complaining; after all, Peace Corps duly warned us about this exact problem. We're in the community entry stage, at the mercy of our towns and villages to be shown how life is here. And thus far my community has truly been great, I've experienced no harrassment, spy accusations, or roadblocks in my workplace. And the hospitality that this country takes great pride in has helped my transition so much.
Spring is, thankfully, just around the corner, and it is my light at the end of the tunnel. At least, that's how I envision it. Is it my final emergence through the Azerbaijani birth canal? The passage towards community development enlightenment? Or just a reprieve from the cold? I don't know, but either way I am so ready to be done with this snowed-in feeling.
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