Many of my friends in other parts of the world are sharing the news of their graduation, pulling me out of my suspended reality in
Panama. I’ve forgotten, it seems,
that time actually moves in places where I am not. A year ago, I was in their shoes, graduating, excited about
moving forward, anxious about what the future actually held.
A year ago, I had no idea what the next few months held for
me. It’s interesting looking at
the past, allowing hindsight to be what it will. To see what decisions you would have done differently, if
any. While I would be remiss to
make it seem as though I made no mistakes, I can honestly say I would not
change one decision I made in the last year – a statement I have not been able
to say before. I am aware that ever
movement of mine since graduating college, and even before, brought me to where
I am, in Panama, living, learning and loving every minute, even the moments and
days I am homesick for family and friends. I am so grateful and blessed in whatever way for this
opportunity and I am determined not to waste it.
A year ago, I imagined myself in francophone west Africa –
Senegal, Mali, Niger – and there already for seven months. A year ago, I imagined myself without
any new attachments, totally and fully immersed in my service. My, how time plays tricks on us.
Today, I am not in Africa, and have not been there for seven
months. I am not without new
attachments and I am totally and fully immersed in my service. My head and heart are stretched thin
between here and there, and yet, I wouldn’t have it any other way. To be stretched, although it hurts, it
seems to remind me of why this is important, and why I wanted this for so
long. It has me constantly asking
myself, “Why am I here?” and there are moments that, suddenly, I am so filled
with reason that I can do nothing but stop and smile.
Moments like listening to my counterpart talk about his
ideas of work for a volunteer who is only here for environmental purposes. The projects he couldn’t start with
someone stretched between his group and other classes and goals. Moments like playing games with the
students in the primary school, then teaching them how it relates to the
environment and seeing their faces light up with the connection. Watching children climb trees to bring
me mangos and oranges. Talking to
them about the pure ecosystem of a tree and the cycle of water. Having the teenagers come to me with
questions about the environment, and their fathers come to me with requests for
organic compost lessons. Moments
that my host mom laughs at me for my surprise at finding a cicada in my hair or
my question about the language or the local environment. Moments that one of my best friends
teaches me how to play card games.
When little kids pull my hands to play with them. When the men sharpen my machete for me
and help me clean my yard. When
little Tin asks me where is the camera, and Francisca asks how my garden is
doing. When Jackie calls me “Vecina”
and offers me a “Pelito”.
Moments that I remember I’ll be here for two years, with
moments like this. Hearing them
ask for classes, lessons, as they begin to veer away from English lessons,
remembering my purpose.
Moments they promise to call the one who comes after me by
my name.
The past year has been full of surprises and changes. I can’t figure out when I got this
lucky.
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