Thursday, January 28, 2016

18 January 2016: I feel you, Vogon.

                A note for the reader: I'm working on long and involved (read: lots of photos) posts about my trips to Madagascar and to Durban. Stand by for those. Chew on this post while you wait.
                A second note for the reader:  I think this post is especially relevant and more well -thought-out than a lot of the other blathering scribbles I post on here, so it’s probably worth reading.

                Here it is going on 3 days where the cell network has been down in my village, so I’ve been doing a lot of reading and audiobook listening. This lack of cell coverage is quite a good thing, actually, because instead of wasting time/data on random listicles I found on Facebook or slightly less banal tidbits of life found on Reddit, I’m chugging through some quality literature. For example, this morning after going for a dog-accompanied run, I walked to the shop to buy some papa flour to make food for said dog. I took the long way there and back so that I could listen to Me Talk Pretty One Day* on my iPod. I came home, and after playing a thrilling round of that ubiquitous game “Tan Line or Dirt Line?”—and deciding to wash off what was conclusively a dirt line— I settled down with Douglass Adams’s Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy on my Kindle.
I stumbled across a few paragraphs in chapter 7 that made me pause. Ford, after he and Arthur have stowed themselves away on a ship somewhere in outer space, encounters a Vogon guard who’s bellowing at them at the top of his lungs (or whatever bellowing mechanisms Vogons have). Perhaps in order to stop the shouting and change the subject from the duo’s illegally hitching on this ship, Ford asks the Vogon if he enjoys his job. “Well, the hours are good….” replies the Vogon, “but now you come to mention it, most of the actual minutes are pretty lousy.” Ford asks, “But if it’s mostly lousy,…then why do you do it? What is it? The girls? The leather? The machismo? Or do you just find that coming to terms with the mindless tedium of it all presents an interesting challenge?” The Vogon stutters around for an answer and can only come up with the suggestion that the alternative (not doing this job) would be much worse. Sadly, it’s at this moment, when they’re about to flesh out the struggles of being a bellowing ship guard that the Vogon snaps back to what he’s actually supposed to be doing and throws Ford and Arthur into the air lock.
I found myself immediately identifying with the Vogon, especially in these weeks off school when I’m just trying to amuse myself and fill the non-internetted time with things that aren’t naps. I pictured someone asking me the same question Ford asked the Vogon. Do you enjoy your job? Do you enjoy being a Peace Corps Volunteer? Sure, I say. Why not? If asked to actually think about it, though, if it’s giving me a “full, satisfying life,” I hesitate to say yes or no. The “hours,” or years in my case, are pretty good overall. Bonding with my host sisters, going travelling with my friends, watching my dog grow and learn to trust me, seeing the progress my students have made, those are all great. Come to think of it, these are all long-term things, things that take time to build up. But when I think of the “minutes,” I find myself also thinking that they are, in fact “pretty lousy”. The instances when time moves so slowly that I can actually count time in minutes, recognizing each one from the next, are lousy indeed. Time flies when you’ve having fun, but when you’re not, you remember those (and only those) lousy minutes. Those times when I’m bored out of my mind sitting in an otherwise empty staff room waiting for my next class, trying to get my students to stop goofing around and actually listen to me, sitting in my house for another straight weekend without seeing my fellow PCVs, missing friends or family from back home, those minutes suck.**
So why do it? For “The girls? The leather? The machismo?” or in my case, “The traveling? The RPCV perks? The local fame?” Sure, to some extent that’s great and all, but like Ford suggested, a lot of the satisfaction I get out of all of this is from the personal challenges it presents. “Coming to terms with the mindless tedium of it all” is definitely my most interesting (and unexpected) challenge of all. I do get lonely. I do get bored. I can constantly feel my brain turning to mush. One day, I spent a good 15 minutes contemplating the swirling wonderland that is my fingerprints, and I could probably draw the inside of my thatched roof from memory from simply staring at it for so long. Not only just coming to terms with it, but going further and actually pushing myself to overcome this mindless tedium (by seeking out new experiences and pushing the boundaries of my comfort zone), will be one of the things I’ll be most proud of, self-improvement wise, once I leave Peace Corps.
And for me, like the bumbling Vogon who doesn’t know exactly why he’s doing this job, the alternative is worse only because my alternative is unknown. A lot of the reason I’m here is to try to have some time (and boy, do I have time) to think about what I should pursue once I leave. If the alternative is losing my mind in a dank cubicle instead of losing my mind in this beautiful and singular corner of the world, then yeah, the alternative is much worse.
So thank you, Ford and the Vogon, for helping me recognize a universal (literally…) situation. I guess we could all do with a swift reminder not to focus on the minutes, those little, negative experiences, and that it’s the hours that really count. Overcoming, or even just coming to terms with, the mindless tedium takes both time and constant vigilance.*** If I’ve done nothing else with these two years, at least I’ll know that I will have tackled some of the most interesting and unique challenges that can be presented to anyone. And even if I get back to the U.S. and someone is not interested to hear beyond a 30 second elevator summary of what I “did in Africa,” at least I’ll take comfort in knowing that I might meet another Vogon-type who knows exactly where I’m coming from.
And, I kid you not, readers, the cell service came back on just as I’m finishing this up. I swear, this is not just a literary trick to bring everything full circle. You should know that I promptly put my phone back on airplane mode because I can immediately notice my addict-like compulsions to answer new Whatsapp messages. Must. Not. Be. Distracted. Ding. Ding. Ding. Now that I have internet access again, it’s not like I’m not gonna stop reading dumb internet posts or constantly messaging my friends, but, given these golden nuggets of literature I’ve recently discovered,  I might think twice and pick up my Kindle instead.

*Another quite relevant quotation of the day came from this audiobook, in which David Sedaris talks about his life recently after he moved to France. Just substitute “New York” for “South Africa” and “entire month” with “entire year” and boom, it’s me. He says, “Back in New York, I took advantage of my status as a native speaker. I ran my mouth to shop clerks and I listened in on conversations, realizing I’d gone an entire month without anyone hearing anyone complain that they were stressed out.”

** I recently finished the book  Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman, in which the author goes into almost painful detail about how, for example, the loss of $50 is a much more intense feeling than winning $100. In other words, the absolute value of the pain of even a small negative experience is greater than the value of the joy of a positive experience. This is to say that the negative instances in your life, however small or infrequent, tend to color your perception of your life much more than even large or frequent positive experiences. How sad. You remember the one time you struggled to communicate something in Sesotho to your village shopkeeper, but forget the dozens of other successful conversations you had with many people that same week.


***RIP Alan Rickman. Yes, I know it was Moody who said this, but it reminds me of HP, which reminds me of Snape’s death. Sniff.

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