The Nature of Ghosts

Ghosts are funny creatures, aren’t they? There’s no getting rid of them completely. Every time you move, you bring them with you. You pull them from the back of your closet and fold them like a collared shirt, rectangular pieces of gauze, and place them neatly inside your suitcase. They go where you go. When you arrive at your destination, you unpack each one, shake them out, place them on hangers. Then the ghosts do what ghosts do best. They all but disappear.

My ghosts fooled me for a bit when I moved to Uganda. “Ah, ha!” I thought, “This time they didn’t follow.” But they did, my friends. They did.

When the world is dark and I am alone, they come. The ghost of a boy drawing circles in the sand. The ghost of a princess with a mole for a friend. The ghosts of a thousand memories and of the people who once mattered, who matter still.

But there’s something different about my ghosts this time. Frankly, I’m grateful for the company. It’s settling, really, to know that regardless of how much you’ve grown, or how much you’ve changed for the better, your ghosts are still there. They’ve walked the long path with you. They remember.

Certainly, I can’t walk around with them so close for forever. The gauze makes things hazy and creates a barrier between me and the rest of the world. But for now, I’m wearing my ghosts like blankets. Wrapped around my shoulders, they comfort me from the equatorial sun. From the strangers. From a ridiculously unpredictable world.

Rage & Malaria

I’ve got some bad news. I seem to have wandered into the “Distress Stage” of culture shock, also known as “Crisis,” “Hostility,” or “Disorientation.” For me at least, this means that I am often incredibly frustrated, annoyed, impatient, and/or spitting mad. Basically, the stuff that was kind of endearing or only mildly irritating about this new culture is suddenly inspiring Hulk-like rage. For example, before when I would sit in an over-crowded taxi pressed up against far too many sweaty humans, I would think, “Wow, it sure is hot and crowded in here.” Now I’m prone to think, “If I have to sit in one more sweltering, smelly taxi, I’M GOING TO LOSE IT!” Or when people would not show up to meetings or show up an hour late, I used to think, “Well, we’ll get through what we need to sooner or later.” Now I think something along the lines of, “If I have to sit and wait for an hour for people to show up one more time I’M GOING TO LOSE IT!” Before when I would get quoted an outrageously high price for a kilo of passion fruit, I would think, “Ah, she is doing what she can to be a successful businesswoman.” Now I think, “If another person tries to overcharge me for passion fruit, I’M GOING TO LOSE IT!” You get the idea.

Hulk + Tears = Steph

When I’m not struggling to keep a lid on sudden bouts of rage, I am alternately a sad, blubbering mess. Picture the Incredible Hulk, green with rage, but crying. Can you see him futilely trying to wipe away his tears with his ridiculously large green fists? That pathetic image is me in a nutshell.

Now, rest assured that this is perfectly normal and is to be expected somewhere between the third and sixth month of living in a new culture. I’m at the five month mark. After this, the helpful graphs begin to climb upward into lovely new phases all about acceptance and humor. Also rest assured that my honesty about how I’m feeling should not be confused for weakness. Nor should it be confused with real unhappiness. Beneath my rage-y, weepy exterior, I am a calm pool of peace. For realsies. 

As charming as it would be for me to drone on and on about my woes or flex my giant, green fists and scream at the world via blog posts, I decided to take a different approach (albeit a bit too late). I’m going to write about malaria for a tiny minute instead. Whaaaaa? Yep, malaria. Full disclosure: I want to win a contest. You may not know this about me, but I’m a tad bit competitive. (Ha! That was a little joke for all of you who know and love me.) But seriously...I. Want. To. Win. There are a list of activities you can do for points, and writing a blog post is one of them. Ready? Here goes.

April 25^th is World Malaria Day. All month, Peace Corps is doing activities to bring awareness to this important issue. Facts:

1)    Malaria is the leading cause of death in Uganda.

2)  Malaria disproportionately affects pregnant women and young children.

3)    In Uganda, between 70,000 and 100,000 children under the age of 5 die every year from malaria.

4)    Sleeping under a mosquito net greatly reduces one’s risk of contracting malaria, but only about 13% of the population in Uganda uses mosquito nets.

There you have it. If you think of it, float me some happy thoughts across that great big ocean. Or if you’re here, battling with your own inner Hulk, help me wipe off the tears with your human hands and I’ll try to do the same for you. And lastly, tell your friends and neighbors about the ongoing struggle that the poor nations of Africa are facing in fighting that pernicious foe called malaria.