I bɔra i ka so, i nana i ka so

I bɔra i ka so, i nana i ka so. You've left your home, you've come to your home. This traditional Bambaran saying, signifying the enduring hospitality of the Malian people, is the best way I can begin to describe my trip back to my village of Makili.

Having the opportunity to return almost two years after being evacuated was an extraordinary experience. In one sense, everything just felt normal. I've come back home. The village, the environment, the friendships were just as I had left them. Even my house, somehow still vacant after my departure, was returned to me for those three weeks.

I yala yala'd, walking throughout the village, joining people to chat over tea. My language came right back, along with the memories and the names of the people whom I shared them with. I spent all of my time in the company of friends, not really doing much, but doing exactly what I came there to do.

This was not the ideal season for a visit. It is currently cold season in Mali. Although this may bring a welcome reprieve from the intense heat, it also means that the people of my village are busy during the days cutting rice in the fields. But despite all of the work, my friends in Makili really made me feel appreciated.

They gave me a warm reception upon my arrival, and before leaving, threw an amazing ɲɛnajɛ (celebration) in my honor. A goat and several chickens were slaughtered for me during my time there. For the celebration, for everything, they refused any help from me.

Despite all of the positives, I'd be remiss not to mention the harsh realities which face this country. I knew that conditions were difficult, but somehow, after spending time in Kenya and back in the US, everything felt more real. I knew, of course, how dry this region is. But breathing through the incessant veil of dust and trekking through trails of sand after a long reprieve really put the harsh environment into perspective.

From Obscurity to Clarity: School, Down Time, and the Philippines

I returned to America after 3 years in Africa without a plan. It was an intentional move; I chose to, for the first time in my life, focus on the present without worrying about the future. And predictably, it took me a little while to find my footing upon my return.

But over the past three months, I have finally charted what I hope will be a rewarding path for myself. My first decision was to attend graduate school, obtaining a Master's of Public Administration (or equivalent) focused on international development.

Graduate school will allow me to bind together my prior educational, professional, and international experiences and direct them towards my field of choice. I just finished applying to several graduate schools across the East Coast for enrollment next Fall. But given this decision, I still found myself with a large gap to fill.

I continued to apply for jobs both domestically and abroad, and eventually faced a choice between a civil engineering position in New York City and a disaster management position in the Philippines. With some great advice from people currently in the development field, I opted for the latter.

Unless you've been living under a rock (I don't judge, that was me just a little while ago!), the first thing that surely comes to mind at the mention of the Philippines is the devastation caused by Typhoon Haiyan. Interestingly, I accepted this position on November 6th. The category five storm hit the island nation two days thereafter.

I will serve as a Disaster Risk Reduction Program Specialist in the Municipality of Rosario, Northern Samar Province. I will be working with government staff who have faced challenges in implementing their local Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Plan due to a lack of technical and financial support.

My assignment entails completing the following:

1. Enhancement of the municipality’s 5-Year Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Plan
2. Prepared digitized hazard maps for each barangay
3. Enhancement of training module for community disaster preparedness and mitigation
4. Conducted training with DRRMO staff and barangay volunteers on disaster preparedness and mitigation.

Peering Through The Fog

The term 'reverse culture shock' gets a lot of play in Peace Corps circles. In short, readjusting to your own culture after a two or three-year stint immersed in a foreign culture can be just as, if not more, difficult than acclimating to that foreign culture proved originally.

These past couple of months in America have proved rather challenging, but for different reasons altogether. Reasons which are familiar to any one of us, reasons which transcend culture. What I'm alluding to is uncertainty. Finding a new purpose, a new place to belong.

Sure, I've been overwhelmed with the relative ornate characteristics of American life. I've spent ten minutes staring at menu choices, unable to come to a decision as my friends wait. I've marveled at the wonder of a washing machine. I've bemoaned the omnipresence of the iPhone (then quickly caved myself), and the proverbial distance between one another, which African culture could never allow. But those are all trivialities. You wonder, you adjust, you move on.

I don't yet have a place to call home. Before leaving Kenya, I had resolved to live in a city. Preferably New York or DC. And, aside from visits with family, it is there where I've spent my time. Staying with friends, experiencing both places as I try to make some decisions. Both cities, I really enjoy. New York has taken a slim lead, but I've really enjoyed all the diversity, the possibilities, the people in both. For all the flack New York City gets for being impersonal, I've found that's just on the streets. When your at a bar, at any event, people here are less cliquey, more approachable and likely to mingle.

New York City. Doesn't get much different from my village than this, but so far I love it.

But I can't choose quite yet...

Stepping Aside

Omondi and James of Mumbaya Youth Group solicit the help of family in their households to prick out tree seedlings.

I have known that most of my projects, due to the brevity of my time, would not be fully implemented until after I have already left. I have strived to ensure that these projects were planned in a sustainable manner, such that when I step aside, they can proceed without any major issues.

These projects include:

Improving Healthcare Access for Communities within the Swamp

I have been working to mobilize and guide staff members at Osieko Dispensary to institute weekly mobile clinics (by boat) into marginalized communities within the Yala Swamp to improve access to healthcare. Over 4,000 people live in these communities, where a trip to the doctor means passing through the swamp by boat, then entering the often volatile waters of Lake Victoria, to arrive at Osieko Dispensary. The journey proves to be too demanding for most people, who instead simply do without healthcare.

In February, Edwin and I travelled to Osieko Dispensary to discuss the idea with staff. They raised several concerns, but acknowledging the need, were very much willing to pursue the project.

Attaining Closure

A picture with my 'wamama wa soko' in front of the new market shade constructed by the government. I love chatting with these women each evening. They have taken to calling me their son, 'mtoto wetu!' The mama directly in front of me is holding up the gift that she insisted I bring back to my mother in America, 'omena'. 'Omena' are small, sun-dried fish which the locals fry or boil to eat with ugali. We'll have to see how much stench emanates from my luggage and whether they'll allow them on the plane home.

Leaving site this time around has been much less emotional. In Mali, I went to bed one night knowing I still had 5 solid months in Makili, only to wake up the next day knowing that I'd be gone in a matter of days. Thankfully, this time around here in Kenya, I've been able to instead close out my service on my own terms.

I have known that my last day of service would be June 28th, meaning that I would have to leave site on the 26th. I have been able to not only prepare my friends and colleagues for my imminent departure, but also my own state-of-mind.

My relative lack of emotion this time around betrays the fact that I feel just as close to Budalang'i as I did to Makili. The difference simply owes itself to preparation.

Mumbaya Youth Group and my host family, that of 'mzee' John Mango, both threw me small going-away parties. More surprisingly, my host organization which I have not been working with, decided to do so as well. These gatherings meant a lot to me, showing that my work has been appreciated. But beyond these brief gatherings, I have more-so appreciated the simple opportunity to continue life as part of the 'wanyala' community right until the end, spending more time with the people that have made this experience so special.

And that is what this post is about, just a handful of the many people who have made ten months go by so quickly:

A talk to bring it all home...

Speaking with 90 young men in Form 4 at St Benedict's Budalang'i High School yesterday.

Over the past couple of weeks, I have had the opportunity to speak with students at two nearby secondary schools. 150 young men and women within the health and young Christian clubs at Nyambare Secondary School in nearby Siaya District, and 90 young men in Form 4 at our local St. Benedict’s High School here in Budalang’i.

At each school, I was given a one-hour time slot to speak to the students, offering any advice I thought could help them. These talks, however brief, were two of the most fulfilling and enjoyable experiences I’ve had in my three years in the Peace Corps.

Not only did I have a blast, but the students also seemed to enjoy themselves, taking notes and participating when engaged. Although I wish I had time to work at more secondary schools, it is fitting that these opportunities have effectively concluded my time in the Peace Corps.

There was a time when filling such a long time slot would be a daunting task. What could I possibly talk about? But in the past three years, through the work and conversations I’ve had within my communities both in Mali and Kenya, I’ve developed an understanding of the issues of development, along with ways to frame my arguments to motivate those around me to take charge of their own lives. In many ways the speeches I gave are the culmination of my time, an appropriate summary of everything I’ve learned about development.

Teaching Taboo: Advising The Next Generation

Students at New Hope perform a range of role plays on resisting peer pressure.

I have been teaching weekly Adolescent Reproductive Health and Lifeskills classes at two local primary schools. At New Hope Primary School, I teach approximately 100 students from standards 5 through 8. At Budalang'i Primary School, I teach approximately 60 students from standard 8. This has been yet another opportunity to work in a field which I have no prior experience in. As time has gone on, I've gotten more and more comfortable with teaching and have come to rather enjoy it.

Answering questions from the students at New Hope prior to beginning a lesson on HIV/Aids.