Running Away

Sometimes after a long day you just want to strap up your shoes, plug in your iPod and run along the dirt road into the sunset.

Well as a munu, what a white person is called in the north, it is not that easy.

People stop and stare, which is quite the awkward scenario when you are huffing, puffing and wiping the sweat from your face, which is conveniently caked in dust.  People clap you along, which is motivating when all you want to do is slow to a power walk, and some people follow behind you.  Again, awkward.

For the past couple of weeks I have decided to run the roads of Kitgum.  I usually wait until around 6:15p once the sun begins to set and I can tolerate the heat.  I run for about thirty minutes to the tunes of Katy Perry, Beyoncé, Arcade Fire, and The Downtown Fiction.   Just long enough to tolerate a cold shower waiting for me back at home.

Sometimes I feel like I can run for days where others I can’t seem to reach the end of the airstrip quick enough. 

Today instead of running I decided to run away and yes, Peace Corps was aware and yes, I am back home.  I only escaped to Gulu for the day to buy some munu friendly food.  After a couple hours of a very bumpy ride in the back of a run down bus we arrived.  I had my to do list planned out, which including visiting a couple supermarkets, the fresh food market, and lunch somewhere in town.  I stocked up on cheese, chickpeas, fresh green peas, some frozen chicken thighs and bacon for Christmas morning, and tuna.  I then went to Coffee Hut for an iced latte and a vegetable wrap filled with onions, green peppers, and carrots. 

I know you are probably thinking, aren’t you in the Peace Corps?  What are you doing drinking iced lattes?  Well let me confirm that this is in Gulu where there is a high expat rate and I live in Kitgum where such delectable items do not exist so when in Rome…

Where my need for a break came from I am not quite sure.  Over the past couple of weeks I have been feeling someone lonely, low, and out of the loop.  Since October three people from my group have ended their service on their own accord, two that came from my original language region of the southwest.  The other was someone who I was originally going to Guatemala with and I feel was a huge role model to our group.  Tack on the other two that I know of and this makes five.  Then add on the handful of people who decided to go back to America for the holiday season and Peace Corps Uganda feels a little empty. 

Moving up north was the best change I could have asked for.  The people are beyond hospitable, which is a lot to say being that the country as a whole is wonderful, and my organization welcomed my ideas and me with eagerness.  I can’t complain too much.

Except that I am so far away.

There are two other Volunteers in Kitgum but they live across the bridge about an hour or so walk from me and are both in the November 2012 group.  While we get along great and have spent a handful of nights playing cards and cooking vegetable fajitas, there is some camaraderie missing that only my May 2012 group or family back home can provide.  When these two fabulous PCV’s are out of town, like now, my closest Volunteer is three hours south.  Not exactly like in the Southwest where I could board a taxi and be with a fellow PCV within 15 minutes.

When I put it in perspective, I think this has all been good for me… Learning to live far away, without a support system at ends reach but then the time comes where all I desire is a familiar face for comfort. 

The thing is I know myself.  My behaviors.  I know that when I escape, I hide.  I know that when I miss a phone date, I silent the incoming plethora of calls.  I know that this is wrong but for some reason I avoid it.  Contribute my behaviors to embarrassment or wrongdoing but nonetheless it is what it is and know that I am working towards change.  It is just every time I pick up that phone or that pen to write the letter, I think about al the time passed and maybe it is a lost cause? 

Childish and dumb, I am aware.

Sometimes I think how being in the Peace Corps must have been different twenty years ago, with limited access to telecommunications to the family and friends left behind at home.  Sometimes I think how I would have longed for this yet here I am in a different situation, one where even deep in the village of a developing country I have access to Internet, international calls, and a dependable postal system. 

Tomorrow is the day that this change begins.  Tomorrow is the day I will catch up with the people most important in my life, my family. 

Tomorrow I run back to everyone but don’t think I will stop running. 

This is just the beginning.