The Unknown

Over the last week or so, I’ve battled with myself: should I write this post? I’ve decided to go ahead and write it because I figure by now people in Savai’i/people that live near my old fale (house) have noticed that I’m no longer there. Palagis (white people) stick out like a sore thumb in villages, so when a regular is no longer roaming around, I’m sure that the villagers take notice. Yep, that’s right, old fale. I no longer live in Savai’i. I’m sure some of you may be curious as to why, but I won’t go into detail until I’m back in America, whenever that may be. Sorry. All I will say is that two Peace Corps staff moved everything out of my house two weeks ago. I’m not a fan of packing and moving, so it was nice that I didn’t have to deal with packing up my little house. Since I didn’t pack my belongings, I have no idea where certain things are. I have a lot of stuff, so unless I look through every little thing (I don’t want to do that), I won’t get my hands on some items until it’s time to unpack. My only complaint, if I can even call it a complaint, is: while it was nice to have others pack up my house, it’s not so nice not knowing where certain items were put.

Because I didn’t pack, I didn’t get to tell my students goodbye. That’s a difficult thing to think about, and I wish I had the opportunity to do so. I also missed out on taking in the breathtaking view of the sea, one last time. In America, people pay millions of dollars to live as close to the sea as I did. My house was literally a beach house, located directly above the sea wall. I was blessed enough to have a perfect housing location for 6 months. I’m going to miss falling asleep to the sound of the waves crashing beneath my house each night.

A gorgeous view from the side of my old house.

That brings me to the present. Currently, I’m stuck in Peace Corps limbo. I still don’t know what my future holds. The possibility of me going back to America is still there, and it’s upsetting to think about. But the good news is: I haven’t cried in a few of days. I spent a majority of the Tuesday before last crying on the phone, to Peace Corps staff, even to a doctor that I’ve only met with once before. And that happened to be the day I got robbed; glad that day is behind me.

A couple of days after my tear-filled Tuesday, I was walking, looking for a store to add credit to my cell phone. I happened to walk into a store that I’ve been to once before, nearly 9 months ago, when I first arrived in Samoa. For a moment, an indescribable feeling overcame me, the same feeling I experienced 9 months ago. It was a feeling I get when I’m in a new environment. A feeling like I don’t belong. That’s exactly how I felt: like I don’t belong. For the first time in a long time, I felt out of my element in this country. And that’s when I realized that if I get to stay, I’d be experiencing this feeling for quite some time, as I adjust to a new environment, a new life. If I get to stay in Samoa, I’ll have to start all over. I’ll have to adjust to a new host family, meet new villagers, work with new teachers, start from scratch with new students. All this is quite overwhelming to think about. Several PCVs have told me that I’m a strong person, and if they were in my shoes, they wouldn’t be able to handle it as well. The truth is, deep down inside, I’m scared and nervous. What if I have a difficult time building relationships with a new host family, new villagers, new teachers, and new students? What if it all becomes too much? I’ve done it once before, but I don’t know if I have it in me to do again. It’s a huge change, after all.

To keep myself busy, while my fate is decided, I’m working at a nearby school. The head teacher and I were talking on Thursday. Somehow I revealed to her that the last two weeks have been the loneliest I’ve felt in the past 9 months. Sure, I was lonely at times in Savai’i, but if I was by myself, it was because I chose to be. If I wanted company, all I had to do was step outside my house and invite a host relative over, or I’d walk to the neighboring village and talk with my shop owner friend. It’s different now. I don’t have the luxury of having company whenever I feel like it/need it. Sure, I talk to the other guests I see in the mornings and evenings, but they’re on holiday, so the option of building any sort of relationship is non-existent. I’ve had visits from several friends, which has been wonderful and has lifted my spirits tremendously, but as soon as they leave, I’m back to feeling down in the dumps. I know I’m complaining, but this is what I’m dealing with at the moment: solo meals and several hours of unwanted alone time. I don’t know why the feeling of loneliness emerged. I consider myself an independent person, living alone during my sophomore year of college and moving 6,000 miles away from home. I guess the situation I’m going through at the moment has left me yearning for companionship. Anyway, telling the teacher that I’m lonely resulted in her to ask for my telephone number, so she could have me over for dinner one day. I’m looking forward to that. Her invite brought a smile to my face and reminded me how hospitable and kindhearted most Samoans are.

My entire Peace Corps journey, from the application process to the present, has been a rollercoaster filled with several emotions. Exactly one year ago, I was stressing out because I was anxiously waiting to hear from the Peace Corps headquarters in Washington, D.C. I still hadn’t been issued an invitation to serve as a PCV, and the waiting caused a lot of anxiety and stress. Here I am, one year later still stressing out because of the unknown. I know the circumstances are different, but the stress and emotions remains the same.

I’ll end on this note: Several days ago, the Peace Corps country director called me while I was working, informing me that he needed to meet with me that afternoon. A few minutes later, I was in a taxi, on my way to the Peace Corps office. Anxiety got the best of me, and I began to feel sick. Then, Bob Marley’s song “Three Little Birds,” better known as: “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright” began playing on the radio. It was the first time I’ve heard the song in Samoa, or at least noticed it. I took the song as a little sign from God that everything is going to be alright. Whatever the unknown may be I have faith that it will be alright. For the first time in a long time, I felt at peace.

Whenever I need a little pick-me-upper, I reply the song in my head. “Don’t worry ‘bout a thing, ‘cause every little thing gonna be alright.”