The first attempt at writing this blog, I was sitting in my kitchen, hunched over the computer with a full belly of refried beans. I could hear the Evangelical church down the block playing ridiculously loud music, and was hoping they didn’t let the people speaking in tongues get on the mic that night. The song I had playing on my computer was “Fuiste Tu” by two Guatemalan artists. I was thinking about packing, leaving my family and women’s groups. I was thinking about the groups and having panic attacks about them using their new projects correctly. I was thinking about having drinking water come from the faucet; having hot showers; speaking to my family daily, no matter where they are in the world; having a washer and dryer. I was thinking about the fact that I just put my fingers through my hair, and even though I swear I had showered that day, I pulled out a live bug.
My second attempt to write this blog, I was sitting on the plane home, next to an older couple who had visited for a church trip. I had butterflies in my stomach. It felt like I was 7 and it was Christmas morning; as my family can tell you, on Christmas morning when I was little I always threw up I was so excited, so you can imagine how I felt! This is my final attempt at writing the blog as I’m forcing myself to finish it. I’ve been home for almost 3 months, and I need to end this chapter and start a new one.
How does one begin to wrap up two years of his or her life? Writing this final blog has been on my mind for a while now, and I really don’t know what to say for closure, not only on my service, but on my life in Guatemala. I’ve been getting the question “how was it” – and really, how would you wrap up the last two years of your life in a one sentence answer?
I titled my blog “Megan’s Adventures” because that is what I assumed it would be for two years: an adventure. But what it was was a life; I have a new family, a new set of friends. I am used to, and now enjoy, living alone. In Guatemala I had my daily routines, chores, and phone calls to Peace Corps friends. I certainly have had some adventures, no doubt, but when I reflect on my Peace Corps service, I think about sitting in my kitchen with Junior, coloring. I think of sitting on a camionetta, sweating, with a little kid touching my hair and calling me Xnula. I think of giving charlas to my women’s groups and stumbling over my Mam and Spanish, hoping that they are understanding half of what I’m saying, while getting a little less annoyed each month when women show up an hour and a half late.
So with this, what to I say? I keep thinking about my readjustment, my constant anxiety about finding a job, the people I’m be happy to see, and the people I miss. I’m thinking, what am I going to do – what’s really next. How great is it for me that I don’t have to ride chicken busses, that I don’t stick out like a sore thumb because of the color of my skin every day, that I can eat my favorite foods, that I can drink water from the kitchen sink.
And then I remember: this experience wasn’t supposed to be about me. Before I left for the Peace Corps, I had read that the experience changes the volunteer more than anything, and I’m sure that’s true, but it scares me. While working in development, all you want to do is make a difference, yet this whole experience I’ve been worried about me; about my depression, my life, my family and friends. I have been pensive about how Peace Corps would change me; how it’d help me be more competitive on applications, and how maybe I’d get some international development experience.
Really, I do agree that I’ve changed way more than I’ve helped to ‘develop’ Cajolá; but I will also say that of all the things I’ve worried about, it took stubbornness and the desire to do something, anything, that made me stay and do the little I could. I can be away from my family and know that they love me and are thinking about me, I can medicate my depression. So what did I do for Cajolá? Like I said in my post “Women in Cajolá,”I don’t know. I hope I helped my women want to make their families healthier. The "what did I do" feeling is a feeling all RPCVs have, and I’ll deal with it in one way or another.
I know life will go on in Guatemala. My replacement, Kathy, will hopefully continue to work with my women’s groups. Junior had his 7th birthday in March, and I know the next time I see him he won’t be interested in coloring or doing sidewalk chalk with me. Kaylee probably won’t even remember me at all. My amazing boss, Basilio, will retire and move to Italy. Peace Corps will hopefully continue to be still be thriving in Guatemala for years to come. I could go on forever thinking about what I've 'maybe' accomplished and definitely not accomplished, my feelings about my experience, and my feelings upon my arrival back in the US. But I won't (you're welcome). I'll just state that I'm glad I did it, and I'm glad I'm moving on.
So, what’s next? I’m very lucky to have this time right now to really be able to go anywhere I want. I was in Wisconsin for a month and a half, then spent a fun-filled week with my aunts in New Mexico and Arizona. From there, I moved to Alaska to visit Casey and apply to jobs. I’ve had a couple phone and Skype interviews, and as of this blog I’ve applied officially to 45 jobs (I spelled the words “language” and “professional” wrong in probably 12-15 of the first ones I applied to though, so I doubt those count! Oops.).
I’d like to take this opportunity to say my thank you’s:
1.) Dear Peace Corps: Thank you for existing. Our relationship has had it’s ups and downs, but without you, I wouldn’t be as patient as I am today, nor would I be nearly the person I am. Working with you, it was re-affirmed that I carry the “Gokey Rabble Rouser” gene.
2.) Dear Peace Corps friends: Thank you for your support and listening to my crying phone calls. Dirk, I never told you this, but when Mr. Jones died and I called you at 5:30am and you told me you were awake, I always knew you were lying. You stinker.
3.) Dear Street Dogs: I still hate you, but thanks for reminding me how much I love US dogs.
4.) Dear Food Poisoning: Middle-finger.
5.) Dear Women’s Groups: You are awesome. Thank you for being patient, for not trying to machete me when I accidentally said “I like to eat kids” in Mam (when I meant “I like to eat food”). I love you and you will always, always, always be in my heart.
6.) Dear Host Family: You have changed my life. We will be in touch.
7.) Dear Friends at Home: THANK YOU for keeping in touch. Thanks for the packages, the emails, the Skype conversations, and thanks to those lucky enough to visit.
8.) Dear Gram Gokey: You are the best. Thank you so much for all the support you always have given me. You say that you weren’t much of a rabble-rouser in your past, but all of my life you have always taught me to speak up. You’ve always supported me and given me your two-cents. You are an amazing and strong woman, who has always devoted her life to helping others without asking for anything, even recognition, in return. I really hope I am as awesome as you when I’m 86.
9.) Dear Mom and Dad: Thank you so much. You two are why I am who I am. I would never have succeeded in high school, gone to college, or joined the Peace Corps without your support. You have always taught me I can do whatever I want not only because I put my mind to it, but because when I have a break down (or run out of money), you’re there for me. You both taught me to be compassionate towards others, and that you really never know what someone else’s situation is. As I’m growing older, I realize how great you are. Not everyone is lucky enough to have parents like you. You’ve taught me to stand up for myself and for others, and that changes don’t happen by sitting back and watching; changes happen by working hard and doing everything you can do. I won the parent lottery, and there is no way you’ll ever know how much I love you both and how much you mean to me. Sorry to everyone else who is reading this – your parents might be awesome, but I’ve got the best ones.
This is a final farewell to all who read my blog. I won’t post again, as this blog will be a nice way to look back on my experience. As always, you can keep in touch with me over email (megangokey@gmail.com).
I’ll leave you with two quotes that I read daily in the Peace Corps:
“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.” Ralph Waldo Emerson
“I shall pass through this world but once. Any good therefore that I can do or any kindness that I can show to any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer or neglect it. For I shall not pass this way again.” Stephen Grellet (Thanks Mr. Nelson for passing this along - I thought of you every time I read it)
My life is forever changed and bettered because of the last two years. Thank you.
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