Today is The Day. In a few hours I catch my flight out of Ouagadougou, and in twenty-four more or so after that I will find myself back in the United States of America. Yes, it is true, as of today I am no longer a Peace Corps Volunteer (or PCV). I am now a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer (or RPCV)! I can tell you this much: I am not going to miss our government's inane love affair with acronyms. And after all the anticipation of this day arriving in the last few months, I caught myself wondering late last night, Do I really want to go back? I was stunned that these words had actually crossed my mind. But what I think my sudden case of cold feet comes down to is this: for over two years now, I have redefined my identity, forging it around the experiences, frustrations, and relationships that were all part and parcel of service in the Peace Corps. Now to return to the United States for good, to pick up where I left off... as I observed in a previous post, it often seems like in some ways I am standing still, and, from way out here in West Africa, looking back at my friends and family in America, it often seems as though life sped up for them after I left. I am scared of reaching out to old friends and discovering that we have become different people since I left, and are now little more than strangers with a strong sense of déjà vu.
Still, I cannot pretend that I am not ready to leave Burkina Faso. I will be back, I have no doubt, in the following years to visit the various friends I made here, but right now I am ready for a looong break. The last several weeks, most of my possessions have been breaking or tearing, prices have been rising, my tolerance for African harrasment has been plummeting; everything these days points to the simple fact, "It is time to leave Burkina." And now that I am finally at that moment where I can look back and attempt to encapsulate my Peace Corps experience in a few sentences, I can say that, as exasperating as I regularly found my life here to be, with all the disappointments, heart-ache, and minor breakdowns, I do not regret signing two years of my life away to the Corps. I am glad I did it, and I would recommend it to anyone.
And thank you, Dear Readers, for walking some of this journey with me, if only on the nebulous paths of cyberspace. I am uncertain as to whether this blog helped keep me sane or only encouraged my existing insanity, but it meant a great deal for me to be able to share my thoughts and experiences with you. I hope at least a few of you gained something worthwhile from it in return. I leave you now, to seek out the final signatures and stamps that will release me from service, as well as the plane ticket that will deliver me back from whence I came. It has been illuminating... with a sprinkling of the absurd.
Here endeth The Burkina Files. The Burkina Files are dead. Long live the Dabbler's Diary.
15 years ago
