After arrival in America, what follows is a log of my thoughts each day as I acclimated back into a weird version of the country it remembered.
March 22, Sunday afternoon after landing at Dulles airport outside Washington, D.C.
March 23, 3 p.m. Monday afternoon after arriving at my hotel for quarantine in Kansas City, Kansas.
A blur of American culture shock coupled with the odd realization that this is not the America I remember. This is an America in lockdown with empty streets, social isolation, and, from what I gather, toilet paper as currency.
Day three of quarantine.
Today in a voicemail a friend noted how it’s “cold as f$$k” and there are no leaves on the trees. For me, since I arrived in Kansas City there has been no sun, only grey clouds, and rain. This is the complete opposite of the lush and varied green hues of Rwanda.
I realized if I don’t eat leftovers or the food I bought yesterday soon, it will go to waste. That gives me anxiety. In Rwanda, over the past 18 months, I’ve probably had to toss out bad food equalling no more than two pounds.
I constantly want to turn off the water when I’m lathering up in the shower. It seems like a total waste to allow it to just run right down the drain.
Day four
This afternoon I met a friend for a social distancing stroll around the plaza in KC. She was talking at 1,000 miles a minute while walking with such purpose as if she were in New York or Washington D.C. and was late for a meeting. Meanwhile, I’m calmly strolling along, just taking it all in, wondering if that was me just two years ago, way too wound up, neurotic, and constantly worried about the future and all the different tasks I had to complete with no time to do them.
Day five
The realization that we have no mission from anyone at the moment has hit me. Peace Corps was a 24/7 job. You were always representing America in everything you did. Even in being evacuated back to the states, we had a mission. It was to get home. Now, sitting here quarantined in a hotel room, it’s just….emptiness.
We can either wallow in self-pity or help build ourselves up and find a new focus on what we can do next. Luckily, we all have years of experience in being resilient; The loneliness of living in a village with no Americans anywhere near you, forcing yourself to stay motivated and focused on your mission. That is a gig we are uniquely qualified to excel at.
Day seven
Everyone’s getting a bit stir crazy about this isolation and I get it, it sucks. For me, to put this in perspective, imagine you were in this isolation you are in now, except first you had to pack up all you could fit into four suitcases, then travel 10,000+ miles over a one-week period away from your home and friends, and stay in a random hotel room that definitely wasn’t your home in a country that feels foreign and be completely physically alone for 14 days. So yes, I get it that it sucks for people. But it’s not that bad.
I went into a liquor store near my hotel and my head almost exploded. So many options.
We may now be RPCVs, but in our hearts, we will never, ever stop being volunteers.
Day eight
You don’t have to be crazy to go crazy.
Day nine
“How’s my quarantine going?”, a friend asked.
Well, my whole world has been turned upside down in the span of days/weeks and I have to figure out what I’m going to do next with my life when just two weeks ago, I had eight months to figure that out. That’s how my quarantine is going.
Day ten
I miss Rwandan coffee. It’s so damned good. And much better than this watered-down river mud that passes for coffee here in the states.
Day eleven
After taking a shower I put on a t-shirt that smelled like Rwanda and my home there. The slightly musty smell of Sunshine detergent and sun-drenched equatorial mountain air.
Post quarantine, after moving into my brother’s apartment as a permanent couch surfing resident.
Day 24
I’ve come to the realization that my happy place right now is a nice, hot bubble bath. Bucket baths were a necessity in Rwanda, but a container that one could lay in, like a tub? Not so much.
I realize it’s a luxury of even having the water to do such a thing.
Day 25
You know that feeling you get when you collapse into the familiar comfort of your own bed in your own room? It’s spectacular. I haven’t known what that feels like for almost a month now and I likely won’t for many more months either.
Day 31
This wasn’t just the toughest job you’ll ever love, as every RPCV likes to say, but for me, it was also the most rewarding job I’ve ever had.
Day 32
As I write these words, I know now that my life will never be the same. My Peace Corps service changed me, for the better. I can’t go back to the life I lived before, nor the job I had. I had a mission and I saw what positive change could bring.
I am so lucky to have been given the opportunity and the invitation to be a part of my local community. To be welcomed into their lives and families and be accepted as a fellow teacher and colleague. Every day I think about the students I taught in my village. They changed my life and I am forever in their debt.
I know I don’t just speak for myself when I say there are many of us ready, waiting, and eager to help stem the tide of this COVID-19 assault on our lives, our world, and it’s people. We Peace Corps volunteers are resilient, adaptable, hard-working, and eager to assist. Give us something to do. Allow us to be useful by giving us a mission to assist. To bring some flowers back to this dreary world. We don’t need large salaries, fancy accommodations, complex training, or benefits. We just want to help. Give us that opportunity.
If This Isn't Nice, I Don't Know What Is 