Leaving Rwanda

So you might have picked up during my posts that I’ve had some ups and downs in Rwanda. Unfortunately the downs began to really take hold on me mentally and I’ve been going through a difficult time here. Four weeks ago I wrote the following blog post and decided that if I didn’t think it was possible to move past these feelings with a month, then I’d have to make a change. The month went pretty well actually, with a trip into Nyungwe rain forest, a 5 day Peace Corps training at a nice hotel, lots of bonding time with some great fellow volunteers, and 2 week-long girls’ camps that I helped with as a facilitator. Unfortunately, these trips and events aren’t the everyday norm here and I realized that this situation was not a good fit for me. Right now I’m writing this post from the airport in Kigali on my way home. It was a difficult choice for the reasons outlined below, but I think the right one.

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Well, I’ve decide to quit Peace Corps. There are a number of reasons why, which I’ll try to explain, but I think I had a pretty poignant moment with my Rwandan counterpart the other day that solidified this decision for me. She asked, “Darcy, are you happy?” And I couldn’t say yes.

Even during training I was having some doubts about living here for 27 months and my unhappiness has pretty much just increased over time. When I applied for this job there were a number of motivating factors: helping people, traveling the world, work experience, adventure, etc. But with all the free time I’ve had in the nearly 6 months I’ve been here, I’ve been able to put a lot of thought into my priorities in life and I don’t feel like Peace Corps will push me significantly closer to those goals. More importantly, I miss America—friends, family, restaurants, grocery stores, museums, conversations in a language I can understand, hot showers, toilets, ovens, washing dishes in a sink and clothing in a washing machine, holidays, dating, and my health. That last one is obviously pretty important and I have to say that in Rwanda I just don’t feel like myself. Between occasional diarrhea, one incidence of severe food poisoning, a staph infection, mysterious allergies, fatigue, depression, and hunger (which resulted in me losing 14 pounds) I am totally off-kilter. The hunger thing can be attributed to lack of motivation to cook the limited types of food available on a hot plate or coal stove and wash my dishes in a bucket of water that I have to fetch. Basically, even after making my house feel somewhat comfortable, living here is still not easy.

The lack of anonymity has also worn on me. Prior to my arriving another female PC volunteer lived at my site for 2 years, and yet it still seems that some people (adults and children alike) just aren’t used to seeing a foreigner and feel the need to stare, laugh, ask for money, or call me umuzungu. Don’t get me wrong, Rwandans are kind people and many have been very welcoming and call me by name, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling like an alien.

Maybe all of these difficulties could have been side-stepped if I was really passionate about the work I will be doing in this community, but I’m not jazzed on that front either. I’m sure I could have been helpful in Nyamasheke, but as I learned during the writing of a “Community Needs Report” recently, my community already has a lot going for it and they’re making steps to improve education and health on their own with teaching initiatives, a youth center, a new library, business cooperatives, child growth/malnutrition monitoring etc. And the health center predominantly wants me to work in nutrition which would be pretty hypocritical of me considering my nutrition here is terrible. You can also probably guess from my previous posts about food that my eating habits in America weren’t great either.

Frankly, the only reasons I can think of not to quit are: Guilt that I will be letting down my friends, family, and host community. Guilt that people have spent money on care packages and long-distance phone calls. Guilt that I could have done something helpful in my village, but decided to think selfishly about my own needs. Embarrassment for all of the hullaballoo associated with my coming here—the going-away parties and whatnot. Embarrassment that my co-workers were so supportive of my quitting to join Peace Corps and now I am quitting again! And fear of what will happen when I return to America. But when it comes down to it, guilt, embarrassment, and fear are not good reasons to do anything, and will only make me resentful if I stay.

It took a lot to get here. I put consideration into PC for years, and had to take a second job, empty out a retirement account, and sell my car in order to pay off my debts and travel to Rwanda.  And I think Peace Corps Rwanda has a good program with great staff, thorough trainings, and volunteers who are doing some really great work around the country. I don’t want to sound like my quitting is a diss of the Peace Corps. This was definitely a worthwhile growth experience for me, but just not a good fit. In other words I don’t regret coming here, but I would regret staying here. Some other volunteers have tried to assuage my concerns by assuring me that time flies; or saying that it’s normal for bouts of depression to come and go throughout your Peace Corps service. But frankly I don’t want time to fly, and I don’t want unhappiness to be the norm. Life is too short.

Sorry for the blathering of this post, but I think partly I needed to compile these thoughts in order to convince myself that I am making the right decision. And you know what? I am. See you soon, America. Someone should alert the Taco Bell in Wrightstown, New Jersey to stock up…