The transition back to America was brusque. I was only given a few days notice that I was leaving Burkina and going home to Iowa. I finished my students’ grades and packed up in a rush, giving away what I didn't need to my neighbors. I said my goodbyes not knowing if I would return. It was a day of mixed emotions, not sure if I could or would even want to come back after being home for a few months. I knew I wanted to come back, but knowing that all could change after being surrounded by the luxuries of America for the summer. It was even harder to say goodbye to the other
volunteers who had become my closest friends over the past year. Flying to Paris was an eye opening experience, seeing a developed country after a year in the bush was amazing. I remember walking through the Paris terminal eyes wide in awe at the Gucci and Prada stores. Everything was so shiny and spotless, and most of all really, really expensive. I was constantly comparing prices of western luxuries to how many meals it would buy in my village or how many years of tuition at our school. Example; 1 bottle of cologne = 3 students yearly tuition. It was tough to see the extreme difference so fast. Also while in Paris, I realized the French I had learned was very much an “African French” and was difficult for “Real French” speakers to understand. They could tell instantly that I was not French from my accent and asked "Where did you learn French?" I proudly said "Burkina Faso, where else?"While en route home, I missed my connecting flight from Chicago to Cedar Rapids. I was given a free nights stay at the Westin Hotel in Chicago. Walking into this 4 or 5 star hotel was another drastic change I wasn’t quite ready to experience. The huge lobby was furnished in marble and gold, and was easily one of the nicest hotels in which I have ever stayed, or so it felt. I remember staring at the leather couches and waterfall as the concierge asked if he could take my dusty guitar, which I refused. I carried it this far, what was riding up an elevator? As I slid my key card into my door on the 7th floor, I thought of how no one in my village would even believe their eyes at what I was experiencing, seventh floor. As I walked in my room the icy blast from the AC reminded me how energy here is expendable. I looked at the digital thermostat, 69F. I laughed, not being used to the cold I raised it to 80F, closer to my normal sleeping temp. The 4 poster bed was amazing in itself; pillow top, down comforter and a plethora of pillows. The bath in the Jacuzzi tub was pretty nice and was my first bath in a year. I slept great.
Being back home is good, but thoughts of my uncertain future constantly bog me down. I hope to get medically cleared and return to my village and teach next year. I'll keep this blog updated on my progress and the reinstatement process.
