Officially…
1. I am no longer a CCS volunteer and intern. My last day of volunteering came and went on Friday to the tune of Kate and Will’s wedding on the hospital television in the baby ward of Sarah Fox. I had spent the morning (and prior mornings that week) learning all the babies names (and in some cases, their afflictions, which were usually malnutrition, HIV, and complications related to HIV such as TB, meningitis, and various other virus bummers). Other duties included feeding them porridge, rocking them to sleep, and getting them to giggle whenever possible. As I stated before… it was a great way to go out. My last ten minutes were spent cleaning up the carrot spit-up baby Charles had just spewed all over his crib and then chatting to him as he perched on my hip, tickling his belly and booping his nose until His Royal Cuteness calmed down. For the first time since I started there, he wasn’t crying when we left. Miracle.
2. I am still sleeping in a bunk bed, but have been “downgraded” to top-bunk status. Yesterday afternoon, I packed my bags and hopped a cab to my dowtown backpackers hostel. It’s pretty bomber, as far as hostels go – centrally located but not on Long Street, cheap as all get-out (hence my modest sleeping status in a ten-body dual-sex dorm room), friendly and relaxed in all respects. I’ll be staying here until I fly out on Friday.
3. I am proud to be an American. (I know. Gag me.) I just spent the first hour of my first morning eating a 2-dollar breakfast in the lobby, eyes glued to the BBC, where I watched President Obama tell the world that justice for 9/11 has been delivered – Osama Bin Laden is dead. Hollllllysmooookes. After watching 2001 footage of the Twin Towers falling, and then present-day clips of your average American flooding Times Square to chant “U-S-A!,” I realized my hand had traveled up to my heart; I was all kinds of choked up. Maybe I’ve been away too long, you know? (If that's possible.) After taking a quick language-poll of the room, I decided that at the moment, I was the only American present. What a weird feeling… to be surrounded by 20-something-year-olds from Sweden and Norway and France and South Africa, and be the only American taking in this “proudly American” moment.
During my travels these last six months, I’ve come across a lot of people who have been personally affected by the terrorist acts of 9/11. More often, I’ve also been surrounded by many incredible local injustices. I’ve meet people who have had to overcome the most abhorable personal histories of loss, abuse, and marginalization (often at the hands of their own communities or families), only to be met with more challenges and obstacles of disease and war and poverty, all of which thwart them from obtaining their basic human rights… life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, if you will. I’ve grown up with the incredible privilege of having a family who cares for and supports me in ALL that I do. I am entitled to a complete and equitable education, quality healthcare, and innumerable personal rights I am sure I take for granted on a daily basis. I mean, I am a young woman and I can vote and have my voice heard in the community any time I want, if the mood strikes me. I can practice (or not practice) any religion I choose. I can go out in public on my own, wear whatever I want to, marry nearly whomever I want to, and earn my own living in any career I want for my own personal use and fulfillment. I've long since reached puberty and not had my female parts mutilated and my freedom sold off to the highest bider, for goodness sake, and not every woman can say that in 2011. I was born and raised in America by loving parents who taught me to be humble, hard-working, and open-minded, and was given the most precious gift of choice. It’s not a perfect nation, and now having left it and lived other places I know it more than ever; we could learn a great deal from the rest of the world, just as the rest of the world could benefit from knowing the less arrogant, aggressive, and close-minded bits of America. Even with all the rights American citizens are granted, too, not everyone is able to access and benefit from them. With all that I’ve been given, I’ve had to work hard to earn many of the greatest opportunities I’ve been granted. This is the reality. But I’ve got to tell you… I’m proud to count my birth-right blessings and I’m looking forward to the 4th of July. Thanks to everyone who has made this possible.
4. Even still, I have Travel-Fever. I’m not even home yet from this six-month adventure and I already caught myself combing the travel-mag section of the local bookstore. Living in a house with dozens of other people suffering travel-bug (falling asleep to each other reminise about backpacking Australia and teaching English in Thailand) isn’t helping to heal the infection, either.
5. I AM ready to come home, however. I’m not ready to leave Africa, per se, but I could not be more thrilled to see friends and family. It’s the people I have missed, more than anything, that have aided me to envision myself cruising around Chicagoland again (on a bike, mind you, not in a car – I can’t afford those gas prices I’ve been reading about). Anyway, break out your datebooks, people, and make some room for me! I am so excited to see you lot again.
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