Sick, Stressed, and I Got Robbed… No Big Deal!

Before I get to the robbery (it wasn't that serious), I’ll discuss the first two topics of this post: sick and stressed.

If you didn't noticed, I haven’t written much lately. Sure I’ve been updating regularly, but I’ve had no desire to write. The reason is because I’ve been dealing with some personal issues.

Because of that, my most recent posts have been picture posts. I’m sure most of you would rather look at pictures anyway, instead of reading the random rants I frequently write. So for those of you, you’re welcome.

Sick: For the past week, I’ve had a cough. It started as a dry cough, and has worsened as the days passed. The Peace Corps nurse did a check up on me yesterday, and told me that my “breathing sounds strange.” Because of this, I was directed to a local physician. The diagnosis: bronchitis. I was prescribed two medications for the sickness, so hopefully the issue is resolved, and soon. The doctor asked if I had anyone who could check up on me last night. I informed her that I didn’t, but would be fine. My heart instantly ached because thoughts of my father and mother came to my mind. If I were in America right now, they would be taking care of me, nursing me back to health.

I got a call from a friend yesterday afternoon. This friend brought me oranges and juice and kept me company for several hours last night. So if this person is reading this, thank you for everything. It was unexpected and a sweet gesture.

Stressed: I won’t go into much detail, but I’ve been stressed out. Why? My future is uncertain in this country. It’s upsetting, heartbreaking, frustrating, and everything in between. If you’re religious, pray for me. If you’re not religious, I ask that you keep me in your thoughts. In the future, I’ll go into more detail. Sorry for keeping you all hanging, but all I can really say is that I need good vibes, so send them over.

I Got Robbed: It’s nothing too serious, so dad and mom please calm down. I wasn’t robbed at gunpoint, or machete-point (which would be more likely in this country). After I left the chemist yesterday, I went to a local store to get soup and crackers. I finished paying, and was putting my money away, walking away from the cash register. At this point, everything fell out of my wallet. I quickly bent down, grabbing my debit and credit card first, and then I went for my money. Moments later, a sole (young man), tried to be smooth, as he walked passed me, bent down, and grabbed some of my money off of the floor. I saw him, immediately popping up, and telling him, entirely in Samoan, “give me back my money.” He refused, claiming it was his, so I continued yelling at him in Samoan, saying “you’re a liar” and “you’re a very bad person.” Finally, frustration got the best of me, and I called him an “ass hole,” in English. So that’s that. I have no idea how much he grabbed, other than $20WST (he had a yellow bill in his hand, which is the color of $20WST here). I’m not sure if he grabbed more, and I’m not sure how much money I had in my wallet before this happened. The saddest part in this incident? There were at least 20 people in there that could have helped me, yet every single person stayed quiet. This is all speculation, but some probably figured: “Why should I help the rich little palagi (white) girl?” Side note: Most Samoans believe that all palagis are rich, which is far from the truth. Most fail to realize that I’m a VOLUNTEER—I’m not getting paid to be here. I’m here because I want to be.

Most Samoans in this country are poor, so I get it. The robber saw money lying on the floor, and he did what most people in his situation would do: he took some of it. It’s just unfortunate that he lied, directly to my face. That’s a pet peeve of mine: liars, especially when they’re caught red handed, or yellow handed in this case, yet still insist that they’re innocent.

After this incident happened, I was feeling crappy, and feeling like I couldn’t catch a break. I felt like the Samoan Gods are mad at me: I’m sick, I may go home, and I got robbed, and I couldn’t understand why because I’ve dedicated nearly 9 months of my life to this country. After feeling sorry for myself for several minutes, I stopped the “poor me attitude” and realized that everything happens for a reason. If I’m forced to go home, there’s a reason. I will be upset, for a long time, but if that’s what my future holds, I have to accept it—there’s no other option.