"Deep inner search"

I was talking to my dad today, telling him I felt depressed.

He asked me, "Are you sure it's really depression, or just a deep inner search?"

I like that. That's clever and it looks on the bright side of life...something I've been struggling to do lately. I'm usually a really happy-go-lucky, optimistic, look-on-the-brightside kind of woman. But lately...lately...that's been TOUGH.

So, I guess this is my quest on my deep inner search.

On my deep inner search, I find it hard, now that IST is over and I'm back in Malian reality, to find motivation on a minute-to-minute basis. It's even hard to find motivation to write this blog post.

I am spending fewer hours with Malians than my last integration. I feel burnt out. I have no energy. Malians irritate me more and more. I miss my last village. I am an asshole more and more. I just don't give a shit as much as I used to. It's more about my time and me than it was before.

Before my deep inner search, when Malians would ask me to do something, I would usually try my hardest to accommodate them. I would be all smiles and happy, waving and greeting at absolutely everyone I passed. I'd stop and talk to the dugutigi, the mayor, my favorite butiki owner. I felt like I was being the perfect volunteer.

This was me, attempting to affect my attitude positively by thinking positive thoughts and "Faking it til I make it," as Ari Ben, my old Zone Manager at The Kansan, used to tell me when I was nervous about being a manager for the first time. It was some of the best advice that worked...so I thought, hey, it will work in Mali too.

But, that burns you out. I put all my energy and gusto into my first integration, now here I am, idly sitting by on my second try...I spent all day with Malians, chatting them up, drinking tea, walking around my village, greeting, wearing Malian clothes, chilling with the butiki owners, greeting every single butiki owner in my village, going to the mayor's office to chat, ALL the schools, greeting all the classes, the CSCOM, riding my bike around my village, cooking with Malians, making TO and kous kous, doing educational work with the radio, teaching English to my neighbor kids, going to any and all town meetings, events, parties, celebrations...

Now, the thought of tackling integration again, especially like the first time, reminds me of the image of a balloon deflating. I feel like my air, my steam, what made me work...has deflated.

I am also incredibly bored. In my last village, I was never really bored. Here, I am extremely bored. I don't even have a book I'm interested in reading.

The thought of two years here scares the hell out of me.

I tried to get a Malian cab driver arrested in Bamako. He was morbidly obese, his seat was smashing my knees in, he stopped twice for greasy food, no one wanted to greet him, he was an asshole, a slob, he picked up a hooker, hit someone with his car, stopped to pee in the middle of the road, stole our money and yelled at us not to talk to him. That guy was a jerk. His name is Musa Keita, if you're ever in Bamako and need a cab ride, DON'T, I repeat, DON'T take his cab. He should be sweating in a jail cell now. I think I handled the situation calmly and coolly, but I have to admit, the crazy dude really pissed me off. (I am sorry that I have such a potty mouth, my dad's been yelling at me about this since I was 5. Some things don't change.)

The bugs are also making me crazy.

As you know, they've taken over my new house. A rat ate half of my soap. It was all the way on my sink!

The other thing is, diarrhea, or "Mr. D" as Dr. Dawn likes to call it, is a regular topic of conversation here in the world's armpit. I have more convos about diarrhea than almost anything else. I can tell you who has had it, what kind of disease, infection or amoeba caused it, and what the Mr. D was like - explosive, watery, chunky - that's just a part of life here in Mali.

I've been sick here in Mali for almost three weeks now. And being sick, while sitting on a tiny toilet (seriously, my toilet is tiny), curled up in pain, sweating bullets and just trying to get through the moment is hard enough without an army of ants crawling on your butt, feet, legs, arms...butt. This is becoming more and more common at my house.

Thanks for the good times, Mali.

Termites are chewing through my chair. I can't see them, all I can see are constant new piles of chair particles. Now it is starting to have holes in it and it's uneven, so it teeters, because the termites chomped so much of it.

I also had that hammer head-looking, cross between a scorpion and tarantula spider sitting in my bathroom when I really had to pee. Right next to my toilet. I dropped my Peace Corps med kit on it and smashed it to death. Then I saved its dead body for a picture I haven't taken yet.

Day before yesterday, I went to wash my hands and ants came swarming out of my plug. Hundreds of them. Then ran all over my sink, faucet, my feet, arms, hands, walls, Ipod, everything. Everywhere. I just sprayed them with perfume and drowned them with splashes of water. Some are still floating in the sink water.

I am also sick again. I have some cold or fever or something. My throat is enormous, runny nose, phlegm, all that crap. It really sucks being sick in Mali. You have no comforts from home to alleviate the pain or discomfort. You just kind of have to stick it out and hope something else won't make you sicker.

I've lost enough weight for a small baby. At least three to five pants sizes. Normally, this would be great news, but I've seen too many people looking starved and losing weight for unhealthy reasons - because they are starving, not eating the right food, biking 20 kilometers just to get a main road in the hottest sun in the world - dropping weight unhealthily. I guess it's a good thing I have a pate addiction.

I also have horrible guilt. The fact that I feel really unmotivated makes me feel so guilty because the people here in Kita are so amazing. They're so hospitable, they just want me to be comfortable and happy, they love greeting me and chatting with me and even the little kids aren't scared of me and we high five all the time. I feel horrible that I am not loving things at the moment.

And I haven't done my VRF yet. I'm sorry Jolie, though I'm pretty sure you're not reading this. It's the Volunteer Report File that measures what we do here in Mali, basically for congressional funding purposes.

And I can't cry anymore. Sometimes I just want to cry. Really hard. And get it out of my system and move on. But lately, no tears. Nothing. Can't cry. This is frustrating me. I have reasons to cry, and I want to cry, but I can't cry.

Well, the point of this post is not to post about my laundry list of complaints or guilt.

I think it's important to tell about what's going on here in Mali. I like putting it out there as a writer, because I think it makes these things more relateable to the readers.

My dad always reinforces for me that when I get back to America, I will have learned more about myself than I ever knew. That I will have challenged myself in ways I cannot imagine. That I will grow enormously from this experience.

I always appreciate his input, and he is totes right. I am growing. Every moment I survive here, I am challenging myself and growing from it.

So, here is my quest for my deep inner search. My search to pull things out of me I didn't know I had. To overcome obstacle after obstacle and triumph, maybe bruised and bitten, but eventually, triumphantly, whether it's metaphorically or literally.

I know what I need to do, I just need to do it. Instead of talking about it, I need to go out into village, talk with and greet, and get to know my village and its people. I just need to do it.

Other volunteers have said that the time after IST was their hardest time in all of Mali. So, the Malian blues and the deep inner search are totes normal. That's good to know.

I'm giving myself two weeks to kick integration #2's ass, and then I will reward myself, possibly, with a trip to Bamako for the newbie volunteer's swear in party. The last swear in party (my stage) was tiiiighhhhhhht!!!

One day at a time. Dooni dooni. Deep inner search. Be proactive. Fake it til you can make it. This stage is totally normal. A positive attitude is your best friend. Just get to know Mali. No expectations, just roll with it. Keep on keeping on.

I can do this. This is my deep inner search. When I get over this part of my service I will be a much stronger person. Here we go.