Kajol's Peace Corps Blog

And so it begins…the vulnerability cycle of a Peace Corps volunteer.

It was Saturday October 1, the day all 16 Peace Corps volunteers in my cohort were leaving training in Okahandja for the week. We were on our way to visit our individual permanent sites that we will each be living in once we are sworn in as volunteers in November. The intention of site visit is to allow the volunteers to meet their coworkers, practice language with their on-site tutor, and get a feel for what life will be like post training. My site is in the capital city of Windhoek, and my peers are spread out throughout the country.

We left Okahandja training in the blink of an eye, chaos ensued, and next thing I knew I was in the taxi en route to Windhoek without saying bye to nearly anyone in my cohort or any of the Peace Corps training staff who lovingly came to bid us adieu to our sites.

I arrived in Windhoek, my site, relatively quickly as it’s only 70 km from our training location in Okahandja. When I got to my site, I was stunned. My home is called the Bottle house, as it is crafted out of hundreds of upcycled glass bottles. The home rests on a beautiful dam where I can sit and watch the sunset over the water and mountains every night. The inside of the home is rustic, chic, boho, and everything in between. It is the cutest home, with indoor plumbing, electricity, decent cell service, and an overall perfect fit for me.

Yet, I showed up at my home, went inside, and felt nothing but emptiness. The loneliness hit and it stayed for a while. Here’s the crappy thing about feeling lonely, it turns into a vicious cycle. I like to think of myself as a solution-oriented person, so when I realized I was hitting a low, I started putting to use all my regular coping mechanisms. I unpacked all my things and got my house in order, hoping some familiarity and organization would bring me some peace. It did not. I went on a walk, to clear my head a little. Instead, I came back with a headache from the heat and itchy from the mosquitos that I fell prey to during the walk. Speaking of mosquitos, my “Take malaria pill” alarm went off right at the end of my walk, prompting me to go inside, grab my doxy, chase it with some water, and then try to cool off at the house.

Silly Kaj, I forgot that I had not yet eaten that day. I was consumed with feeling overwhelmed all morning and hadn’t worked up an appetite to eat breakfast or lunch. Consequentially, I was left with extreme nausea, a known side effect when you take your malaria prophylaxis on an empty stomach. So now I’m sad, lonely, hot, itchy, and nauseous. I decide to call up Ady, my boyfriend, hoping he would take some of the sorrow away. Of course, there’s always a catch. In this new home, I need an adapter to plug in the fan that was provided to me. Don’t ask me why the fan that was purchased in Namibia, does not have a plug made for Namibian outlets. Anyway, my phone was on low battery, so if I wanted to call Ady, I had to choose between plugging in the fan or plugging in my phone. I chose the phone and Ady. I vented to him for the next two hours as I sat in my cute little sauna house. After I ended my call with him, I talked with my two younger cousins, Meera and Renna, for another couple of hours. After talking with them, I called my mom and my masi (aunt) for another hour. Phone call after phone call, sitting in the heat, and I could not shake the loneliness. I was semi-distracted from the sadness while on the phone, but as soon as the calls ended, everything came crashing down again. I finally decided to let my phone go and to have a moment alone. I sat on my bed, took my phone off charge, plugged the fan in, and sobbed.

I cried because I missed my family and friends from back home. I cried because I missed my cohort and my staff from Peace Corps training. I cried because I felt ungrateful for not appreciating the wonderful accommodation and site I had gotten more. I cried at my lack of resiliency feeling that I was weak for missing the bubble that is Peace Corps training, when site placement is the true purpose of the role I signed up for. I sat there with my face drenched in tears, and the fan blowing at full speed, and for a moment I felt a little bit better. In retrospect, I think the brief release came from the fan air hitting my wet face, allowing me to physically cool off a bit.

I rested for a little while, drained from the day of lowness. Evening rolled around and it became cool outside, so I turned off my fan, opened my screened in door, and plugged in my phone. When my phone turned back on, I saw multiple WhatsApp messages from friends in my cohort checking in.

Kaj I know you were kinda nervous about everything but don’t be, you’re going to do great and have so much fun in Windhoek…also your house is sick

Hey, you good?

How’s the adjust, really?

Hey Kaj! How’s everything with your site?

Later I checked Snapchat, and our cohort “Lekker” group chat was going off with Peace Corps cribs videos from all the folks that went further up North. They had slightly longer drives than my 45 mins to Windhoek, and had finally arrived at their homes well into the evening. We shared our Highs and Lows of the day with each other. Next thing I knew, I was actually feeling okay. I was no longer in my rut of sadness; I was no longer lonely and empty. I took a second to reflect and wondered why talking to my loved ones from home, who have known me and supported me my whole life, could not change my mood around, but my friends who I met a month ago somehow could.

I think back to a speech that our Namibia Program Director, Jane, shared with us during one of our training sessions right before we found out our sites. She stressed to us the importance of being a strong cohort together. She warned us to not be the reason anyone goes home.

After my episode of sorrow that first day of site visit, I think Jane’s words have a new meaning. I know my group could never imagine being the reason anyone goes home. However, I hope we can be the reason we all stay. My first day of loneliness was a foreshadow to how low days can get here in Peace Corps. It’s a somewhat unexplainable feeling and most definitely and unrelatable one for most. However, your cohort knows how you feel. They have a level of empathy deeper than what your most loved and cherished support system can offer. I’m grateful to have the other 16 volunteers here in Namibia that I will count on during the low days over the next two years. Likewise, I’ll be making an active effort to be the friend they need and want during their service. We started with 16, and although I’m not a gambling woman, I would bet that we have the hearts and capability to support each other, and ensure we reach our close of service with 16. So, here’s to being a friend, an ally, a phone call, a check in, and so much more. We are all in this together.

Thank you, Group 51 Namibia, I cannot wait to see y’all back in little America on Sunday. And of course a special shout out to our favorite photographer, Ethan, for capturing these tender moments of us together.

Peace & Love, Kaj