A few weeks ago I got call from my mom telling me that my grandpa was sick. He’s a 101 so it isn’t exactly unexpected, but this time it was different. He was really sick, uncomfortable and weak so the decision was made to take grandpa home and put him in hospice. He was too sick to care for himself so everyone signed up to spend either the day or night with him. And there I was 8,000 miles away, sad, lonely and heart broken. All I could think of was how much I was going to miss my grandpa and how I couldn’t be there. I began to think about the possibility of going home. I initially dismissed it but as the week went on and I just felt more and more sad I decided I needed to go. So with the full support of the Peace Corps I bought my ticket and 3 days later I was on a plane.
This was an extremely difficult decision to make, I was most hesitant because I was afraid of what the people in my village would think. A day rarely goes by when someone doesn’t tell me how much they want to go to America. I tell them how difficult and expensive it is and then I just pick up and go at the drop of a hat. I struggled for a few days but ultimately I knew I would regret it if I didn’t go. And so the decision was made.
I knew this trip wasn’t going to be easy and there were a lot of “what if’s" the most worrisome being “what if I can’t go back.” While I was making my decision I never considered going home to stay but I really couldn’t predict how I was going to feel when I got home. To prepare I had decided that even though I was going to potentially say goodbye to my grandpa it wasn’t going to be a sad trip. It was going to be a trip to celebrate the amazing life of a wonderful man and how lucky we all are to be a part of it. Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about any of that because there was no longer any reason to be sad. With everyone rallying around my grandpa, he made a quick and full recovery, he may even be better than he was before. The thing is, my grandpa isn’t afraid to die, he’s been prepared for quite some time, but when he’s healthy all he wants to do is live. He’s been cooking, playing cards, going to the coffee shop and even (after fighting for it) taking his scooter out again. He’s even making plans for Christmas dinner already. I think he was about the happiest I’ve ever seen him. I feel so lucky that now, no matter what happens, I will always have that memory of him.
So with no reason to mope around I enjoyed every minute in the States. Of course much of my time was spent with grandpa, enjoying home cooked meals, listening to him play the accordion, and numerous walks up and down the hall of his apartment building. Each day with him was a gift. I also got to enjoy some of the best Minnesota has to offer including a Twin’s game, the arboretum, and even a day shopping with my mom at the Mall of America (talk about culture shock!). There were also plenty of family dinners, sleepovers, movie nights, a spring concert at school, and lots of good food! What more could I ask for? It was perfection.
And before I even blinked it was over. While saying goodbye was again difficult for me and my family, not once did anyone ever say “are you sure you want to go” or “why don’t you just stay here.” If they had, I very well may have or at least it would have made leaving about 10 times harder. My family is amazing. To know that they support me and that they are proud of what I am doing is reason enough to complete my service. Their encouragement keeps me going. And even at 101 my grandpa gets it. He understands why I’m doing what I’m doing and is one of my biggest supporters. Before I left he told me he is so grateful to all my friends in Rwanda for all they are teaching me. He knows that while I’m doing my best to help the people here they are giving me far more than I could ever give them.
Now here I am, one week back in Rwanda. I was lucky because there was a marathon in Kigali the weekend I got back and a bunch of PCV’s ran in the relay so I was able to spend the weekend with a lot of my friends. I was even surprised at the airport by 6 of them with signs and everything, it was wonderful! Now at site my adjustment back has gone pretty well. My students and friends in the village were all excited to see me as I was them.
I feel like I’ve come back to Rwanda with a new perspective. I’ve realized that while in the next year and a half some things may change; the kids will get older and friends may move away, but the love, support and friendship will always be there. I have new confidence to make the most of my time in Rwanda, to take advantage of the opportunities and not get lost in the everyday struggles.
I brought a book back with me called The Alchemist. I had read it before and enjoyed it but this time I’ve earmarked just about every other page because there is something on the page that relates so closely to my life right now. I just wanted to share a little excerpt that I found particularly relevant. Check out the book too, it can inspire anyone at any point in their life.
“A certain shopkeeper sent his son to learn about the secret of happiness from the wisest man in the world. The lad wandered through the desert for forty days, and finally came upon a beautiful castle, high atop a mountain. It was there that the wise man lived.
Rather than finding a saintly man, though, our hero, on entering the main room of the castle, saw a hive of activity; tradesmen came and went, people were conversing in the corners, a small orchestra was playing soft music, and there was a table covered with platters of the most delicious food in that part of the world. The wise man conversed with everyone, and the boy had to wait for two hours before it was his turn to be given the man’s attention.
The wise man listened attentively to the boy’s explanation of why he had come, but told him that he didn’t have the time just now to explain the secret of happiness. He suggested that the boy look around the palace and return in two hours.
‘Meanwhile, I want to ask you to do something’ said the wise man, handing the boy a teaspoon that held two drops of oil. ‘As you wander around, carry this spoon with you without allowing the oil to spill.’
The boy began climbing and descending the many stairways of the palace, keeping his eyes fixed in the spoon. After two hours, he returned to the room where the wise man was. ‘Well,’ asked the wise man, ‘did you see the Persian tapestries that are hanging in my dining hall? Did you see the garden that it took the master gardener ten years to create? Did you notice the beautiful parchments in my library?’
The boy was embarrassed, and confessed that he had observed nothing. His only concern had been not to spill the oil that the wise man had entrusted to him.
‘Then go back and observe the marvels of my world.’ said the wise man. ‘You cannot trust a man if you don’t know his house.’
Relieved the boy picked up the spoon and returned to this exploration of the palace, this time observing all of the works of art on the ceilings and the walls. He saw the gardens, the mountains all around him, the beauty of the flowers, and the taste with which everything had been selected. Upon returning to the wise man, he related in detail everything he had seen.
‘But where are the drops of oil I entrusted to you?’ asked the wise man.
Looking down at the spoon he held, the boy saw that the oil was gone.
‘Well, there is only one piece of advice I can give you’ said the wisest of the wise men. ‘The secret of happiness is to see all the marvels of the world, and never to forget the drops of oil on the spoon.’”
All my love,
Annie
