Being normal is overrated

Namibian Independence Day was celebrated with a three day weekend since my last post. Myself and the other volunteers in southern Namibia (we call ourselves “southies”) got together in Mariental for good food and a few good laughs. There were about twelve of us in total but not everyone showed up. After meeting all of these people from different places in The States; I’ve come to a conclusion about Peace Corps. Every volunteer is a varying degree of insane, or at least the volunteers who make it as long as we have, the sane ones leave before being here too long. We are an unusual mosh-posh of thrill seekers, idealists, and weirdos. I have a joke here that I keep saying “In August I came to Africa with 44 of my best and only friends.” Sadly that number has dwindled because two people in our group left and there are people from my group that I won’t see until we get on a plane to go back to the states. Now I’m in Africa with about 15 of my best and only friends. Now don’t get me wrong. I am very happy here. I fit in with all the craziness. But sometimes in life you just have to sit back and laugh at the absurdity of the situation you’re in. Here I am in Rehoboth Namibia, trying to educate nearly unmanageable children whose parents are likely abusive alcoholics, I spend at least 20 minutes a day breaking up fights, I have been cursed at in multiple languages for nothing more than being white, I sleep on a bed that is likely giving me back problems, and every now and then I start randomly vomiting from food I am given that either wasn’t cooked or stored (or both) properly. Yet, I am here and perfectly happy with my life. Yeah I’m pretty sure I’m insane…