Note: This will probably be my last narrative post about
my Peace Corps (and post-Peace Corps) journey. My next adventures can be found
at my new website, juliesushifisher.wordpress.com. It’s still a work in
progress, especially the photography section, but it’s mostly a portfolio of
some of my past writing combined with a new blog. Subscribe at the bottom and
you’ll get email updates! And add me on my newly-revamped Instagram page (instagram.com/julie7sushi) for your daily dose of street art, pretty food, and whatever shenanigans I can manage to get myself into.
I left Lesotho nine months ago and left Africa five
months ago. When I first got home, I enjoyed lollygagging around, just getting
used to having all the truly luxurious luxuries that a developed country had to
offer. Once that wore off (but sometimes I still
have sparks of amazement at normal things), the not-so-happy aspects of America
revealed themselves. These were namely the current White House and its
confusing, maddening, backwards-moving policies; figuratively ripping my hair
out trying to find a full-time job that didn’t render me a corporate slave; and
having a daily existential crisis, once again, trying to figure out what the
heck I’m trying to do with my life. Contrary to what most of my Basotho
acquaintances seemed to think, America is not all sunshine and unicorns.
Shocker, I know.
Awesome as they are, literally the day after I landed
back in the US, the amazing staff at my gym re-hired me to do some substitute gymnastics
coaching, and then they gave me full classes for the summer session. This
part-time job, as well as helping run a farmer’s market on the weekend and
doing some travel writing, gave me enough to do so that I wasn’t going
absolutely bonkers, but the whole time I was still looking for something
full-time. I really don’t operate well when I’m idle, and this empty time was
leaving me with bouts of full-on, Peace Corps-level boredom some days. Most of
the time it wasn’t like this, though, because I was in the middle of Dallas. In
Lesotho, I would be lying in my bed, eyes wide, brain empty, staring up at the skewed
strands of my thatched roof, unable to move. In Dallas, I could go exploring
downtown to find street art, go to the hardware store and find supplies to make
my own slackline, or even just chill and watch many mindless episodes of That
70s Show on TV. So sure, some things never change, but you deal with them in
different ways in different places.
Lots of people, mostly other people who had lived abroad
as well, asked me how I was handling being back in the US. I told them that I
had a nice four-month buffer period while traveling, where most places I went
(especially in South Africa) I could find things like fully-stocked grocery
stores and had my pick of lots of activities. So, after being in that
in-between zone for a few months, getting back to the US wasn’t such a full
shock to the system. When I got back, I started a list which I’d add to
periodically, consisting of things I felt or noticed about the US and tidbits
of conversation that left me confused at the amount of ignorance floating
around here. And now, for your consideration, I give you:
“The Reintegration List.”
- There is such a large selection of gum at the grocery store
- A conversation with someone I worked with, talking about me doing gymnastics with the kids occasionally. Him: “Were the kids all black? I lived near an apartment complex once where all the little black kids were doing back handsprings and jumping off hills.”
- Watching some home repair show, being disgusted at the wastefulness and unnecessity of it all. Casually throwing around $130,000 to renovate this already-useable house? What an insane amount of money to just throw around like that.
- There are so many diverse (and unnecessary, and probably expensive) products in my Mom’s kitchen/pantry/fridge. I forgot these things even existed.
- The traffic in Dallas has at least doubled since I left. I hate traffic.
- “Did you see a hippo in Africa?”
- Trying to explain to people how cold it truly gets in some parts of Africa. Yes, I was in the mountains! It snowed!
- “So what was your favorite thing?” How am I even remotely supposed to attempt an answer to that, the vaguest of questions?
- Eating lunch with Mom’s cousins, it was the first time I could have a real conversation about specifics (as opposed to questions like the unanswerable one above) and have an informed discussion. They had been following my blog, so they were constantly informed about what I was doing there. What a relief to have people ask me pertinent questions.
- It is SO AWESOME to be able to work out in a real gym and do gymnastics again. My body and soul are happy.
- While driving, I had to be very careful not to drift out over the right side of the lane. I had been used to driving on the right side of the car where the driver is more in the right side of the lane, so I had to actively concentrate on placing myself in the left half of the lane. Also, my left foot wanted to step on a clutch that wasn’t there.
- A conversation with one of my little gymnasts. Her: “Was it fun living in Africa?...Or was it strange?” Me: “Both. Definitely both.”
- I got forwarded an email about a neighborhood party at one of the fancy houses. The email included affected words like “lagniappe,” and included myriad examples of the frivolities that would be involved. I was just thinking, “What the heck? What is wrong with these crazy rich white people? What a stupid, unimportant waste.”
- I had some good, semi-informed questions, like what the literacy rate was, and if it was hard for my students to learn English when the teachers teach in the mother tongue (Yes. Extremely.). I was also asked why all the kids shave their heads (because of cleanliness and it’s part of the dress code), and as a dumb follow-up question, if that was the reason I shaved mine (no…).
- While teaching in Lesotho, I had to choose my words very carefully because my students didn’t speak fluent English. While coaching, it was so nice to be able to explain in full English using precise words, even sarcasm, and not having to think so hard when speaking.
- Washing machine! I never did reach a point where I was hand-washing my clothes without any resentment at the giant time- and energy-suck it was. The washer was the one time-saving device I missed the most in Lesotho. Though I don't use it nearly as much as I did before I left for Lesotho, because even being back in the US, I am re-wearing my clothes many times like I got so used to doing.
- People asked me how Africa reacted to Trump’s election. Same as you: utter disbelief.
- I bought a car! Freeeedommmm! No more waiting hours for public transportation or for a hitch!
- A relative asked me what was next after I finished my blog, and that it’ll be sad when it’s over. I just replied that I would take that as an excuse to go do another new, awesome thing so I could start another one!
- I took a “check my privilege” quiz online, which consisted of checking boxes if you had experienced a certain situation where you were disadvantaged because of your appearance/background/situation/identity. There were ones like, “check if you have never been the only one of your race in a room” or “check if no one has ever asked (or not asked and just went for it) to feel your hair.” Check! Although these clearly were questions targeted toward minorities in America, they backfired with me, who ironically, partly because of my privilege, was able to go to live in Lesotho in the first place. Now that I’m back in the US, I am HYPER aware of my privilege. Living in a rural village in a developing country will give you all kinds of comparative perspective on life.
- Out of habit, still trying to conserve phone battery by putting it into Airplane mode, even though there is electricity everywhere I go.
- When paying for something, asking people if they take cards and being met with a look that says, “…Yeah…duh.” Most places I have most recently lived operate with only cash, OK? Gah.
- About to turn 26, looking for affordable individual health insurance, so fed up at the whole system, being convinced that it’s all a conspiracy and a scam. This is one of the things (other than the aforementioned presidential situation) that is convincing me that getting out of the US may be one of my better options at this point.
