You can't take the Midwest out of the girl...

For the last few days I have been feeling more homesick than usual. Perhaps it’s the number of birthdays I’m missing in the end of April, the fact that I know spring is looking toward summer days in America, or that I’ve actually been busy and unable to really reflect on things until they jump out and surprise me. Whatever the reasons, I’m missing home to a higher degree than I’ve ever felt in all my time living away from home.

Feeling homesick to me is like having a major part of yourself not in sync. You feel out of step, out of place, left behind. That part of you is still attached to somewhere across the ocean and the connecting thread is being played like a guitar string, lurching and swaying, it pulls you off course. For me, the feeling of homesickness is being able to close my eyes and the first thing I see is open highway with the cattle grazing fields stretching out to the horizon. It’s seeing Buffalo Wild Wings and Hollywood 14 theaters. The taillights and streetlights on Wannamaker Boulevard. The long drive up to North Topeka past all the familiar turn-offs and houses, signs and sights that I always thought trivial but are a part of where I come from.

A lot of this recent bought of homesickness is just missing the people in my life. Usually most of the ache is for Colt, a feeling that I have long come to terms with even though it never really gets any better. But this thing lately is a lot bigger than that. Missing him is there, sure, it always is. The last few days, though, I’ve been missing my mom, my dad, Jeni and Stephen, Oliver, Zach and Lucas, Skyler, and especially Josh. My family. Maybe it’s because I feel like we’re once again on some sort of transitional brink and I cannot be there to be a part of it. Maybe it’s because Zach is a teenager now which seems like some overwhelming dive off a cliff into new territory, a slap in the face to how fast time really has gone by. A lot of it is Josh, making big decisions about his future. How I wish I could be there to be a part of those choices. For me, a lot of homesickness often feels suspiciously like guilt. It’s been five years since I’ve lived in Kansas for any length of time and my family dynamic has learned to function without me in it. Of course that’s exactly what is supposed to happen when you grow up. But I feel left out so often, forgotten. And then I just feel guilty when I realize it’s my own fault.

I miss my friends, too. My college friends in a different way from my high school friendships that I have maintained and the new home friendships I’ve built. There’s an assumed fierce independence with my college friends. We’re all out doing amazing awesome things like Teach for America and law school. We don’t really have time to be overly sentimental. We all come from very different regions in the world, too, so there’s no guarantee that our long distance friendships will ever be more than that. There’s a few people I really miss, but college is different than those friendships built up and kept strong for ten years or more.

A lot of my high school friends are also doing amazing things. Graduations, getting real live grown-up jobs, getting married, having babies. Most of those friendships are either strong enough to not worry about too much or have faded over the years of me being so far away from home. A few have rekindled after a few years of absenteeism. Several I have just plain neglected. I’ve also built a few new friendships, mostly through Colt, but still important to me, especially looking to the future (Sydney!). Right now I’m really missing Jen, Aaron, Megan, and Mal. I found some old photos of us from the fall of 2008 and was in tears. I’m not a super sentimental person, but I miss just hanging out and being ridiculous. I’ve never had to pretend to be anyone I wasn’t for them. Finding friendships like that is rarer than you might think and I’m realizing that I’ve taken them for granted for a long time.

The people and the places make up the part of me still tied to Kansas. I facebook surf every few days and am constantly reminded of the way it feels to be home, doing the simple things that just don’t exist here and aren’t missed until they’re gone. So I’m taking stock right now! Here’s what I miss most about home:

Meeting a friend for coffee at starbucks, getting dinner at a bar and grill, BWW, good wine, driving through the countryside with the windows rolled down and the radio blaring, playing on a playground, Gage park, the early Italian brunch at Paisano’s with Colt, Papa Murphy’s cheese pizza, sushi from HyVee, walking up Mass Ave in Lawrence, incense, air conditioning, fresh cut grass, sunflowers, Mallory and Zach and their awesome house, going for a long run in crisp morning air, Chipotle, movie theater popcorn, the fluffy, cuddling, Colt’s mischievous smile, premade clothes and department store smells, Candyopolis, Taco Bell cheesy bean and rice burritos, youtube videos on mom’s iphone with Zach and Lucas, my living room and the people sitting in it, cooking with a full kitchen, cupcakes, making cookies with the kids, visiting Wichita and seeing Jeni and Stephen and Oliver and Dad, playing in Dad’s lab, champagne, Aaron Dean Senne, Juice Stop blueberry and banana smoothies, feeling cold, kisses, Barnes and Nobel, easy internet access, quiche and salad at Annie’s with Sydney, sexy cars, the fabulous Megan Greening and Olive Garden lunches with my favorite ladies, girl talk with Kira, dinners at Colt’s parents house, laying out looking up at the stars in the summer, Kansas sunsets, political protests and civic action, super Walmart and giant Dillons, Skyler and the Sunflower house, everything else about Lawrence, my amazing mom, high heels, wearing contacts and dressing up, feeling clean from head to toe, Jennifer Long, anonymity, football on TV, Cold Stone Creamery, fake meat, cheese, the apartment, Dan and Nick, video games, watching Netflix movies with dinner, enchiladas, snow, Josh and his leather jacket, open fields surrounded by old barbed wire fences, antiques, the way my house smells like home, everything else about Colt Sellens.

I wanted to leave Kansas for so long, to get out, get over the rainbow. I wanted so badly to do the great things I am doing now in Africa, live how I am living with the people I have made my friends. I don’t regret my choices, but I am surprised at how much I feel connected to America, to Kansas. It’s almost like I never expected to feel pride at calling where I come from “home,” but I am proud and I really do miss it with more intensity than I ever have or thought I would. I think I’m growing up a little bit, appreciating my background a little more, giving more credit to the people and the place that made me who I am. That doesn’t mean I ever want to actually live in Topeka again. But being close enough to visit sounds pretty okay to me.

What's Next? American civic duty and the West Wing

The West Wing was a television show that captivated me as a child and helped force me into the kind of patriotism that was sometimes difficult to find during my adolescence. I followed the first two seasons diligently, watching with my dad on Wednesday nights. I didn’t always understand the fast pace or what the official jobs of the characters really were, but I learned about politics, about America. At some point I stopped watching, but I never really forgot how moving some episodes had been or how much of an impact the television show had on my development as a politically minded American citizen.

Across an ocean for the last year as a Peace Corps Volunteer has provided ample time to catch up on the seasons I had missed and re-watch those first two. As someone serving my nation abroad, I felt a connection to the public servants in the White House, and the fictional current events propelled my interests in what was going on in America. Watching those first seasons I saw the parallels between our nation’s actions during the early 2000s and was moved to tears remembering how little my thoughts have changed in the ten years since I regularly followed the show. I waited to hear President Bartlett ask “What’s next?“ as they moved on to the next crisis or simple affair that could change the course of history. I would often make a quick lunch on my tiny stove and sit on my make-shift couch with the fan strategically positioned and open my computer to watch an episode or two of this show, slowly working my way through the seasons and the drama, always feeling a sort of pride and astonishment at the amazing accomplishment that is the United States.

The first few seasons I debated my own interest in pursuing politics or trying to get Colt to do so, the fourth and fifth seasons I thought a lot about our relationship with the rest of the world, the Islamic nations and the international marketplace. During the sixth and seventh my mind turned to the bittersweet and remarkable nature of America, resilient and malleable like the Constitution itself. Always I was looking for guidance from the gentle leadership of Jed Bartlett, a president that seemed benevolent and strong, the perfect leader of the world. I know I would have voted for him.

I thought a lot about how democracy works in America, all the red tape; it’s easy to get jaded and cynical about the process and become frustrated with the game of politics. I myself became much less involved and interested in the political landscape after high school. Once I found myself in a blue state for college, my passionate interests in politics seemed absurd; I had no one to disagree with anymore. I got lazy. Sure I was motivated to basic action during the 2008 presidential election, taking part in some simple campaigning between studying for finals and lab exams. I was invigorated by the fight for the White House and really believed in President Obama’s goals. I just didn’t really think it had anything to do with me. So I voted and forgot about it. I fell into the trap that the top of the ticket is all that matters. But I was wrong to forget about the other parts of government and the other levels of government. My apathy was misplaced.

If I’ve learned anything from the West Wing it’s that the Executive branch is only the beginning of the story. It’s more powerful in action than perhaps intended, but when it comes to legislation and policy and domestic changes on a federal level, Congress is just as influential and just as worthy. And there are small fights for those seats every two years, fights that are crucial for the smooth operation of our country. And if we care, we have to get involved. Apathy is not acceptable. It’s not okay to just say that you’re not interested in politics or that the game doesn’t matter to you; that game is what makes America what it is. The potential of the political system is what leads to greatness.

I wish that I had more formal education about political science. I really do. I chose to spend most of my time in traditional sciences with a splash of social and economic issues and that’s fine. I just wish I had had more time for an undergraduate education or the money or the foresight to have gotten even more out of my fantastic degree. But I don’t have that and am passionate about medical school and practicing medicine. But I can guarantee that I will be an active voice in policy. That means closely following legislation and voicing my opinions loudly. It means taking an active role in the causes and the leaders I believe in. It means learning on the go, playing the game and meeting the system head on to defend it and change it whenever necessary.

That’s a great thing about the West Wing in the end. After eight years in the White House, the president stepped aside and the next guy took over. The next administration began to tackle problems left behind and address new challenges. Every few years we get a fresh start to how this country is governed and it is always peaceably handed over with bittersweet memories and open expectations. It takes an involved and passionate public to hold our leaders to the highest standards and loudly demand perfection even when it is impossible or people disagree. The West Wing showed me that this process is fun and exhilarating, exhausting and toll taking. In its ideal form, American politics is about duty, about serving the people, the nation. It’s about taking responsibility and handing over the reigns in the end. None of us can ignore the call to serve or give up in frustration when things get tough.

In just a few months the nation will be gearing up for another election year. President Obama (eerily similar to the West Wing’s Matt Santos) along with hundreds of others will be on the campaign trail hard at work to win the minds and hearts of the American people again or for the first time. I will be here in Africa, barely making it home in time to vote next year, but I will be watching as often as I can. That’s the amazing thing about the West Wing; the show is over but the spirit continues. Every time we challenge our leaders, ask questions of the Constitution, or have even a casual conversation about a candidate for office, we are making history, fulfilling our own civic duty. We are living the greatness of the United States and there is no possible excuse for complacency. So this year, do your part. If you have a complaint, do something about it. Don’t forget about what makes America the best nation in the world. Get involved. Take up the call yourself and ask, “What’s next?”

Puzey trial on hold

I just received information that the Government of Benin has decided that there is not enough information and evidence to bring the Kate Puzey murder case to trial. The American ambassador and Director Williams are both "highly disappointed and concerned" and will continue to urge the government to reconsider. Apparently they are requesting the FBI and the government of Benin to work together to re-open the investigation. The Peace Corps told the Puzeys that they will continue to press for justice and that the suspects will remain incarcerated until the government of Benin decides what to do next.

I am extremely disappointed and frustrated by this determination. This is just another example of the cultural differences between the two justice systems in our countries. I am however, pleased at the relative transparency of this recent development on the part of the Benin administration , as this was shared with us via text message this afternoon.

I have no idea what the next steps are going to be and I am just constantly disappointed in the Peace Corps and Benin in the handling of this situation. I wish all the best to the Puzey family in coping with these issues as well. I know my family would never stop fighting either.

On children and empty bellies

I live in a bigger village here in Benin, where access to healthcare is more visible and the people are slightly more proactive about their health. It's easy to overlook malnutrition here unless I am in the health center when mothers have brought in their children from up to fifteen kilometers away. Most of the kids I see in Djougou look relatively healthy. Sure, they're barefoot and often very thin, but they eat something each day and go to school for the most part. So I naturally assumed that malnutrition isn't really much of an issue up here. Not true.

A few weeks ago I went on an epic walk around the city with my friend Affissa, a high school senior and running enthusiast who has become my closest friend in village. On one of the rare days when she wasn't studying like mad for the bacc (necessary to pass high school and go on to college...she's one of the few girls in my town to even be in this position), she invited me to walk with her and a friend out by the lake in the south. We rode her moto to her friend's house and I stored my helmet in their living room. While they were off greeting the family and chatting about the insignificant things that make up so much of life here, I started playing a bit with some of the concession kids.

At first I didn't notice what was different about "Malik", the smallest boy. I thought he was just younger maybe than the others until they got a little closer to me, a little braver. Then I noticed his reddened hair, skeleton like arms, and how his head seemed too big for his body. I recognized marasmus malnutrition immediately, the type of malnutrition where the child literally is starving from lack of sufficient calories. He was playing just a little less actively than the other boys, kicking the soccer ball with less vigor, but still smiling, still laughing and taunting me with "batouré, batouré!" like the others. He came up to me, giggling, and I touched his shoulder, smiling with him. His skin was hot to the touch, feverish.  He ran off with the others when Affissa and the other adults walked over.

As we were leaving the concession I asked Affissa if Malik was okay. I told her that he had a fever and needed to be resting. She explained that he was often sick with diarrhea and the other boys didn't have the problem as often. She attributed his illness to 'gris-gris' a type of sorcery more common to the voodoo south, but I could tell she thought that was simplistic. I told her that he should drink lots of clean water and eat enough and she assured me that he was getting a lot better, that he didn't used to play. She encouraged me to forget about it and she was right. There really wasn't anything I could do beyond simply making sure that the family knew what to do. During our walk I mentioned making an oral rehydration drink and Affissa's friend said that the family was doing that already. I felt a little better, but I was just sort of shocked that malnutrition like that was just a casual part of life for these families.

It's true though. Mothers will often wait months before naming their children for fear that they will fall to illness. They have many children, usually a result of not having or believing in birth control, but also because the more children you bear, the more you'll have when some of them die. Children are not treated well in Benin in general. There is an emotional separation between parents and their kids. Beatings are completely acceptable and very common which is hard to hear or watch as an outsider. Children work hard manual labor for their families, especially the girls. Parents love their children here, of course, but it's a different kind of love then we see in the states. They never know when Allah, or sorcery, gris-gris, will take their children from them, and this makes them just a little more expendable. That's the way they were treated as children and they perpetuate it each new generation.  It's a very different way of life and one that is not compatible with Westerners or myself, someone passionate about children's health and the health of those who are disempowered. But all I can really do is give my perspective and try to learn from theirs to make a small difference.

Affissa came over to my house a few days ago in the evening. We sat out on my porch under the mango tree and sipped glasses of water as the sun set. I mentioned Malik and asked how he was doing. She explained casually that he had gotten sick again and would probably die. I asked how his mother would feel if that happened, trying to keep the tears out of my voice. She just shrugged and said that his mother has five other children to help her. Seeing the look of surprise on my face, she quickly added that she would still be sad. A few moments passed and then she changed the subject, not because his illness was a difficult topic, but because to her it was such a simple one.

Taking the leap

I've been thinking about faith lately, contemplating the reasons we believe in certain things and choose to allow so called reason to take the reigns on others. Do we choose these distinctions or do they just somehow develop? Can the balance shift and should we seek out challenges to encourage our assumptions to change?

Something I've been feeling in the last 9 months is that what we know to be true is never static as long as we allow it to grow. Ideas, beliefs, faith--all these things are dynamic and should be dynamic for social and personal change to really be affected. We can so easily get caught in our knowledge, in what we know to be true, that we forget how to learn, forget that discovery comes from the sometimes unforeseeable opening of the mind.

I've become so jaded while here. I came to Africa thinking change was possible and somehow along the way my thoughts shifted to a deadlock. Everywhere I looked I saw roadblocks to change from the very people who could benefit the most. All the stereotypes we laughingly discussed at the beginning of training seemed to be true. From believing that people here wanted my help to assuming that I was irrelevant and unwanted, my truth made a complete shift. I struggled with finding friendships among women who seem to just perpetuate the injustices against them, and men who daily and constantly harass me to the point of demoralization. Sometimes I really do just want to give up because I know that nothing I do here is going to have any sort of impact in the long run, so what's the point?

Volunteers get together and binge drink. Sometimes there's a therapeutic bitch session where we complain about the administration, the country, the people, the corruption, but mostly people just drink themselves into a stupor so they don't have to think about it at all. It's cathartic in its own way, I suppose, but not particularly helpful and not something that I participate in often. There's something so juvenile about it, like being trapped in a frat house party where no one seems to justify the real occasion. I'm not trying to blame the volunteers; life here is difficult and frustrating so much of the time. But we do get so trapped into our own assumptions and our own frustrations that no one really says anything about anything anymore. It's just the same thing every time, hoping to pass the time away so we'll be one more day closer to being finished with the pointlessness of these two years.

The last three weeks I've been paying my thirteen year old neighbor girl to come over to my house on Saturdays and help me with my laundry. I get everything set up, she washes, and I help her hang the clothes up to dry. She's quick and efficient and gets 500F out of it, which is a pretty good deal for us both. This last Saturday she didn't show up at the time we had agreed on, 10am, which was extremely irritating for me. I assumed that she had either forgotten or didn't care enough to respect my time or her money and I was grumbling pretty angrily to myself while I started doing the laundry on my own. I was starting to scrub a t-shirt when I thought to myself that perhaps something had happened, maybe there was an emergency. Of course that would be my first thought if I was paying an American girl to come over and help me. I would immediately worry about her and want to check up to make sure she was okay, not angrily assume that she had ditched me for some other more interesting activity. Why did I make the choice to be upset with my neighbor for those reasons? Was it a choice? I tend to think yes it was.

 I am conditioned to think the worst of my fellow neighbors because time and time again, the worst is what I've seen. When a Beninese man comes up to me, my first instinct is to be aggressive and dismissive. I am rude automatically because so often I am harassed. Is this fair? I don't know. I'm not sure if it was wrong for me to assume that my neighbor had ditched me. But when she showed up, an hour later, she explained that she was making lunch for her little sister and brother because their mother was traveling somewhere and couldn't make it to my house on time. She said that she would have called but that her family cannot afford a cell phone. Immediately I felt both guilty and elated. Guilty because I had assumed that she was just being lazy and in reality she was working much harder than myself. Elated because a small part of my cynicism had been chipped away by this girl with her honesty and strength. I realized, for just a moment, that my time here did not have to be shaped by the static preconceptions I'd developed, and all I felt then was joy.

As far as faith goes, I know that nothing is certain. I know that challenging our assumptions is the only way to get to a place of acceptance, of peace, because if we let ourselves, we will be surprised by small acts that alter our perceptions. Before I got here, I knew I would change the world. Three months ago I knew I wasn't going to make it all the way through my service. Today I know that with an open heart and mind, I can be changed. I wonder what I'll know tomorrow?

mangoes, kittens, and blogs

It's mango season! I've eaten three in the last two days and they are so good. It's wonderful when they're just a little warm from the sun and the delicious flavor sort of bursts out. Ahhhhh. My tree in my front yard is heavy with them, but apparently there are mangoes made for eating and ones that aren't so healthy and can actually make a person sick, so I'll probably be avoiding the ones in my yard. It's okay though because the marches are selling them for like 50F...or ten cents.

Zaari is settling in nicely. She's still pretty thin because tuna is really the only thing she'll eat. I mix up sardines with the tuna and I'm slowly trying to wean her off the tuna, but it's difficult. She's super picky and only eats if it's fresh out of the can and very moist. Brat! We've been cuddling and playing a lot, too, which is the highlight of my day. I have to confess I got super mad and almost went Beninese on her when she tried to pee on my chair. Instead of smacking her little head (which is what I wanted to do, grrrr) I grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, told her "no" very firmly, and put her in her room and closed the door so I could calm down and give her a time out. She was meowing at a near constant rate that was driving me NUTS but I've been just ignoring her when she does that (after making sure she has water, food, and a clean litter box of course). She's slowed down a bit with it after realizing that she gets no response from me. Sometimes I have to play my music super loud to drown her out. I actually made a mix for her called Zaari's Mix that has a lot of loud hip hop and and rap on it as well as bitchy women singing about scrubs lol. She seems to like it, at least she doesn't meow constantly when it's on! Overall, we're getting alone very well. I haven't taken her to the vet yet, but sometime next week I'll do that so she can get her shots and maybe get spayed.

I've started a new blog over at WordPress about applying to medical school as well as healthcare in America and abroad. I also include a lot of stuff about FOOD because I love it and am always missing out on my favorite stuff here (can you say CHEDDAR CHEESE? Or CUPCAKES?). It's shaping up pretty nicely and I've been spending a lot of time on it, just talking about premed stuff, applying to schools, and the business of medicine in America. If you're bored and/or interested in the process for medical school, you can check it out! If I post here a little less frequently, it's partly due to my time over there. Also it would be because I am currently in the beginning of applying to medical schools which is very time consuming, marathon training (although I have yet to run more than a mile since like November) and also just because my life is indeed pretty routine now and there's not a lot to regularly update about! I'll try though for sure, so don't worry. But I doubt I'll be posting more than once a week.

Take it easy, folks, and as always, let me know if you have any questions or concerns! AND CHECK OUT MY 'DONATE!' PAGE UP ABOVE WITH INSTRUCTIONS HOW TO DONATE TO THE KATE PUZEY FUND TO SUPPORT MY MARATHON RUN AND GIRLS' EMPOWERMENT!

Thanks all and keep it real!

Elaina