I'm sitting on my porch after a bad end to a good day, wondering how to put pen to paper. Here lately--lately being several months--I've been having a tough time. My journal confirms that I hate it here about five days out of seven. I hope that is less-than-obvious from this site because I make a concerted effort to update on one of those blessed eight good days per month. Some of you caught it anyway--the frustration underlying the travel section or the news about my homologue's kid tipped several people off. Other just realized that I never talk about certain things, work for instance. So, I've decided to park here on my porch, complement the fading 6PM light with a lantern, and vent about the things I hate. I don't feel very hungry anyway, and I think it would be better for me if people know my frustrations should I come home sooner than I'd planned.
Since the travel section has been up for a while, let's begin with
Soon I will probably find myself griping about cultural taboos, the treatment of women the lack of privacy, and maybe even the red tape and protocol we have to put up with, but I don't have time just this moment.
Perhaps more important than describing those things is explaining how disappointed I am over my own reactions to them. What do I mean? Well, nearly half the volunteers stationed in Togo early-terminate their service (ET), and a common complaint (even among those who stay here until the bitter end) is that we don't like who we become here. I can definitely say that, having never yelled at anyone besides my sister before arriving here, I was astounded to find myself screaming to the point that my voice hurts. It's not pretty; it's not fun; and I can't imagine it's healthy.
I'll try to provide details soon.