Please note that this blog does not reflect the views of the U.S. Peace Corps. It reflects Sarah Zoutendam's views during her Peace Corps term in Uganda, during her equally harrowing readjustment to the US, and during her medical school journey. Whew!
Taking undergraduate science courses in disguise, (it seems that most of my classmates don't realize I am in a different age group) I have been able to observe many pre- med, pre - pharmacy, pre- "I don't know" classmates really struggle with their coursework. Augustana College is an expensive private college and many students have high expectations to live up to. Success, getting into graduate school, a "good" school, then making "enough" money, is so externally defined, it may be impossible to achieve.
It has been a successful semester. Yes, 7 of the 10 necessary classes are done; yes, the GPA is good. After getting good grades, I wonder, maybe it was too easy.. maybe I should have been taking four science courses instead of three... external definitions really never end.
I defined success for myself two Christmasses ago, however, and it didn't include any of these things. This has been a successful year because I am part of a community, because I am healthy, because I have meaningful work, and because I have many opportunities for spiritual learning. I am successful because I earn more than I spend, because I am cooking my way through a Goan cook book and because I cannot fit all the people I know and love into my home.
My Chemistry professor last summer said that most physical chemists chose their fields because of the vibrant colors....I am definitely seeing the colors in my choices as well.
My lab partner just would not quit... "But WHERE are you from again?" "Earth!" was my reply. She, from the Ukraine, wonders if I am not secretly Russian. I shake hands with two hands. I pronouce the letter "T" and yes, I do know that the "Rare Rhinos from Africa" at the local zoo are not the actual rare white rhinos.
When I started the semester, I arrived early to class. I noticed that in every class, a ring of foreign students surrounded me... later on, several asked where I was from...each expecting to hear his or her continent.
When I visited the University of South Dakota's medical school, an admissions officer asked me if I was a US citizen. He then proceeded to suggest application to other schools... after all I am not a native South Dakotan...
Co- workers do the same, saying that I sound funny.. well I do bring more than my share of curries and lentils to lunch (let's not forget my 14 lb. bag of basmati rice!)
Meanwhile, there is a small Somali grocery store where most delicacies of middle eastern and eastern African origin are available, at a slight inflation. A little Arabic with the owner and I have been placed (unwillingly) into the Somali relationship grapevine...."You sure you're single? Maybe not for long!"... ok...
This Thanksgiving, I am grateful. Not just for the opportunity to see so much but for the opportunity to be so greatly altered. To be a part of a community and a part of my family. To have 250 million dollars--- Zim dollars, that is, and know what is actually of value. Blessed are the......well, not neccessarily the American dream, that's for sure.
My paternal grandparents came over the other night, and we had a nice evening with my housemates (my cousin and her busband, the doctor/ resident director) until the topic came to me. My grandpa proudly recounted some of my autobiography, traveling to Lesotho when I graduated from college, traveling in the Peace Corps, etc.; and my housemates began to ask a few questions. Later on, my grandpa asked me about the job offer I had vs. medical school. That night, during my Ignatian examen, I asked myself, what was a prevailing or poignant emotion today? The answer: shame.
Of what? Of appearing to be changing directions, of appearing to have muddled around in the past, of being back in undergraduate courses-- NOW. In organic chemistry, we realized that we cannot know the properties of a molecule until we turn it around and flip it over and see all of its sides. Am I ashamed of my actual narrative? No; because I can see more of its' sides. Do I feel shame before the Almighty? No, because he can see all of my sides. I am ashamed, however, of the one dimension at a time that others see.
The next day, a mutual friend who is violent, has a borderline personality disorder, and will not take a job because of work on a "book", came to the conversation. I could only think-- what's on the other side?
I just finished my first round of tests for the semester. On the night before my first physics test, I felt I was not able to do the problems and could not think. I called a good friend in tears asking what was wrong with me, am I crazy?, etc..... Guess what? The test was just fine, I answered and thought through all the questions with time to spare...
The next day, I was unexpectedly offered a job interview for a prestigious charitable trust.... and my interviewer asked "How serious are you about medical school?"
This was much more difficult than the physics test, but the reasoning remained the same. First, I had to break everything down into its positive and negative components, calculating for the slight differences in angle. I am not pursuing medical school for salary and prestige... those can be attained in much less difficult ways. I am doing this because I feel a calling. I know that if I do not do it, I will always be in regret. I do this because medicine offers a unique chance to share in human suffering, to be on the ground with the least respected of humanity and to have a tool in my hands to help. I am doing this because I value the substance of gaining knowledge and skills much more than the shiny suit or business plan that could be used to gloss them over. I guess I really am choosing arete- to fulfill my fullest potential, to endure hardship and difficulty... The real reason is that, this choice is all that will undo that knot deep down in my stomach and let me go to sleep.
The ever- living words of Christ as the disciples feared the storm. The words of Pope John Paul II addressing the crises of faith in the modern age. I am beginning my pre- med year. With three courses successfully completed, I am going to hash out the rest -- organic chemistry, physics, biology, and Calculus this year.
These are the courses that separate those who will follow their dreams in medicine from those who will find new ones--- outside of medicine. These are the courses that I used to hear horror stories about.
I am taking these courses not at a postbaccalaureate program, but at Augustana College, a small, local liberal arts college that has been highly ranked and has a good pre- medical reputation..... and I'm not afraid.
Part of this is due to the Augustana atmosphere itself. All of my classes have less than 20 students per faculty member. All are taught by professors with Ph.D.s, who, with the exception of one lab teacher, are women. All have open door policies, continual office hours, numerous opportunities for questions and improvement. Now I know why parents pay so much for this type of experience. People who are pre- med. actually expect to make it into medical school-- because, by in large, they do! I cannot emphasize the difference between this and a large state university enough-- and I did not mention how financial aid and advising gave me a scholarship and set things up to run very smoothly....
My living situation, work situation, and school situation seem to have, beyond all expectation or anticipation, come together beautifully. Success is not simply a result of simply studying hard. Study can only happen when, deep in my gut, I know this is right, that I'm in the right place, and that I am not alone. This is the first time in my academic experience that I have not been anchored in loneliness, I'm home!
Do I know whether I will get all A's? Of course not! But, somehow, I know that I will really learn this material as well as possible, here, and whatever happens next will be right. At the bottom, it is strange, because I am really not afraid.
Within my first month in the US, I went to a friend’s wedding were former college mates, along with their spouses and families, were congregated. I, of course, was asked what I was doing and what I planned to do. I felt so ashamed that someone finally answered for me. Why had I not settled down and started a career or family? Friends in medical school advised me to simply find a job, warning me of the difficulty and sacrifice involved in medicine.
After being in the US for a few months, however, the enormity of these past four years is slowly sinking in. The gravity of what I am now after is also becoming more apparent. And I am energized by it.
In the ancient Greek culture, arête was the end of human aspiration: it was pursuit of reaching fullest potential; mentally, physically, and spiritually. It was not comfort, nor wealth, but a struggle for the ultimate good, for excellence in life, and for continuous growth.
I finished the summer Chemistry courses successfully and am now preparing to begin physics, organic chemistry, and biology for the fall. I am thinking about different medical schools, building community here in Sioux Falls, strengthening bonds with family members, and seeking spiritual growth. I try to do most of this on bike…… no I’m not after the American dream. Nothing could be closer to a premature casket for me. What is the aim? Arete.
Faith
Last night, my housemates and I were watching a rare television show (the first for me this summer) and the topic turned to the child abuse perpetrated by priests. Inwardly, I cringed as I anticipated the inevitable —“Sarah, what do rational, ethical Catholics think about this?” I fumbled for an answer that I did not have, wishing that I could vaporize under the chair.
The question has many forms, many topics, but can be expressed by Elton John “Imagine no religion—the world would be so wonderful, the world would be as one”….. wouldn’t it? At times, I wonder if I am making a grave assault on all of humanity by being religious, and I know that, to some people, I am.
I have to give an answer, a reason for my hope. I am religious; I am a person who has faith. I am, of sorts, a spiritual addict who would find “quitting” ultimately devastating. Am I merely ingesting the opium of the masses? You may think so.
I am spiritual because I believe that life’s purpose cannot be found in material acquisition, sexual prowess, and power. I am spiritual because I am a seeker. I am seeking beauty and truth. I am seeking personal “set apartness” a set of values and a way of living that defies my culture’s aspirations. I have faith in purpose beyond my biological cells, and yes, in a great unknowable, uncreated being beyond my definitions.
My faith is found in and focused upon the person of Jesus. He challenges me to value the people that no one else sees—and to find the value in my own brokenness. Jesus speaks of charity, that the good Samaritan was truly good because he assisted someone with a different worldview and mindset from his own—without trying to change him. Jesus takes the woman at the well and addresses the core of her being. Instead of dismissively accepting her lifestyle, he addressed what she was seeking through her series of broken relationships; a sustaining renewal.
Jesus ultimately suffered and died. He, by all measures of “normality” and “the American dream” was a complete failure. In the bread and wine, he teaches me the value of a life given, the beauty of grapes bruised and fermented instead of the fast and sweet that my culture loves.
Corruption exists now in the Church as it has existed in religious organizations throughout history. Jesus was killed by religious leaders. Jesus was betrayed by a corrupt person in his own group. I am religious, however, because of hope. Yes, in the search for beauty and truth; in mass and in Eucharistic adoration; there have been priests who committed the unthinkable. This is condoned by no one, least of all faithful church members. The harshest words of Christ were for those who offended children. Hope believes that beauty and truth still exists, even when rottenness and lies are found. Hope is affirmed by the fact that church leaders must face appropriate judicial processes, seeing the renewing effect of exposure and change.
Contrast the suffering servant who lived in poverty and died in shame with Lucifer. Lucifer was the leader of angelic music, called the morning star, prince of angels, exceeding in beauty and light. Through pride he fell, becoming the embodiment of evil. The dark side of faith, then, is very real, very dangerous. As with love, hate and heartbreak on it’s heels, faith is neither comfortable or a guaranteed good. Arrogance, entitlement, and privilege, all threaten to bring the Church to ruin. This is why I am glad to be challenged. I am glad my faith is not one of society’s norm, but one that is threatened, and forced into examination. I hope my faith will come out pure, refined; gold.
In the past 10 weeks, I have lost 5 lab partners. The chemistry course this summer is rigorous, and, to some, daunting. I already hear the dread of next term's science courses from my classmates. I ordered my books and will be preparing ahead of the Sept. 5 start date. Work is also challenging, and requires some creativity and organization, which, for some, produces stress.
Yes, to think of what I am dreaming, fear is an easy choice. But I will never have to face the whole of medicine or the whole of life in a day. Each day, instead, has it's own challenges. Conversely, each has it's own grace.
Lately, therefore, I have been focused on the minutia of what I do every day, what I accomplish in an hour, or in thirty minutes. Throughout that day, I search for the special grace to help me through it's tasks-- it can always be found. At the end of the day, I must be satisfied with it, not with the great unknown future.
I have begun to look through a bird book and try to identify the birds I usually encounter. The Gospels are very true... "Look at the birds of the field...they do not worry...the Father cares for them."
Joy in life must be in the little things. For me, this season; a newly painted kitchen and bathroom are a great help! So is the bike trail I can usually use in travel to work and to class. Everything is very different and new.
I am working at a children's hospital, taking chemistry classes (finished one successfully and am on the second) and learning about the upper middle class. I am blessed to be living with my cousin and her husband,a local doctor and part time school of medicine faculty member. My cousin's husband works with uninsured patients that cannot afford to pay for his services. He also conducts home visits.... and supervises internal medicine residents. His practice of medicine, therefore, is very instructive.
I am, for the first time in life, surrounded by white people from the upper middle class. My first friends from this group were fellow peace corps volunteers. Sometimes I think I am living in the type of home a typical Peace Corps volunteer would come from. Oh wait, there is no typical.....I was always mildly scared of this group. Perhaps I felt there was nothing in common. True, there is much that we do not share; but maybe I am something new and interesting for them...
An economist magazine, addressed to me, along with two books by Abraham Vergese showed up by my door the other day. They were ordered for me. The next friendly conversation with Dr.-- included questions related to their content. I had not read them because of my new 12 hour work/study schedule--- I am learning (from mistakes!) to prioritize real learning and cultural experiences. I could not have asked for a better team of coaches than my wonderful hosts! My learning curve is steep-- but if my head wants to be in the clouds and my feet on the ground; I need to be stretched tall.
I spent four months landing in South Dakota, preparing for the next step, deciding whether to do a premedical post- bac, and arranging for the premedical year. It was not fun to have such an emotional roller coaster. It was, however, a good time for spiritual connections, through a local parish group, and through my family, who love me even when I feel lost.
My premedical year is about to begin. I am doing a whirlwind driving trip with my grandparents down from South Dakota through Iowa, Arkansas, and Texas, seeing family members along the way. On Sunday, I will go to Sioux Falls. On Monday, I will begin class. On Tuesday, I will begin the screening and training sessions for work.
The process will actually be very straight forward; I must take Chemistry I and II this summer, Biology I, Physics I and Organic Chemistry I this fall, and Biology II, Physics II, and Calculus this spring (I completed Biology II already). Next summer, I will take a Kaplan review course then the MCAT. Late summer will be dedicated to applications for different medical schools. During this time, I will be working part time at the Children's Care hospital as a direct support professional. I will be able to help severely disabled children through therapy sessions, school days, and evening activities. I think it will be a great opportunity to give to another person.
The next academic year will be one of interviews, biochemistry, anatomy and physiology, and, hopefully, full time work.
One year of academics and one year of working and waiting. There are fears: am I smart/ driven enough? Is this foolish? I will have one year to find out. I personally think it is about discipline; regular and rigorous study, healthy life habits, and staying sane. I was told by a friend that followed a similar path that it is very easy to know if this is right....."your first chemistry test, Sarah. The same logic, the same format, is used from that first chemistry test through the rest of medical school....." Yikes.. here we come!
How was copper wire invented? Well, you see, two Dutchmen were fighting over a penny........
My mom's cousin's husband--kin?-- told this to his fellow South Dakotan doctors at a meeting last week. This was followed by: well there's this Dutch girl by the name of Zoutendam who will be applying to our medical school next year...she's related to Dr. Zoutendam... and she told me that joke.
The same distant cousin who happily offered a spare apartment in her house for me, the same doctor who told me that I was on the right track and that I could shadow him...then said "They know your name now, Sarah, they'll be looking out for you."
An aunt said she had a pickup in good condition that I could use for the summer-- if I learn to drive a stick shift. (I am memorizing all the hilly stop signs, and may not visit you if you live on a hill.)
Oh yes, a cousin who has some car dealerships and will sell to me at cost...
A job is opening up at the Children's Hospital despite my strange background..... in which I can provide care to a disabled child and join in all the therapy sessions (with a broad spectrum of health providers).
There is a scholarship available to cover a significant portion of my tuition.
My grandparents on all sides are alive and remarkably well. They have all been very supportive of my next move. My mom's parents took me in when I had no idea where I was going and even let me use their vehicle for a few months. My Dad's parents offer a sounding ground, advice, and catch me when I fall.....
Oh yeah, did I mention the doctor who treated a problem in my leg... for free? And then asked me to shadow him during his weekend on duty (because he wanted to hear more about Ethiopia)? What about the doctor I shadowed who had been a SOCIAL WORKER for six years before going back to medical school-- and told me how much more a person from the social sciences can add to medicine?
There is also a small town family doctor who knows one of my Rutgers professors and had me over for a chat. Who would guess that he is part of an advisory team for national health care reform initiatives and medicare payment amounts? Several professors, by the way, have sent recommendations to my various ideas of post- baccalaureates and are supportive of my final choice. They even send recommendations as I job- hunt.
Small things... my apartment is fully furnished-- down to oven, microwave, even dish rags -- better yet, access to a bread maker.... oh yes, and friends of friends with symphony members for free Sioux Falls symphony tickets....
Speaking of music, there's more...a friend has a recording studio that recorded Congolese choirs in the area (that I can go to hear). More: an Ethiopian friend who wants to show me the local Ethiopian churches. A contact with the local Sudanese "lost boy" community.
Stop, did I mention the local small group I joined in Aberdeen's parishes with a dear couple in their seventies? We go out for breakfast every Sunday after mass. They were raised on farms, were farmers and we can really share stories and thoughts! What about the parish I am connected with in Sioux Falls? It has a young, active congregation, intent on Christian communities.
I can't forget the wonderful ladies that I meet with in church who share advice on cooking roasts with Coca- Cola and care about who I am and where I'm going.
Oh, I forgot, I will be living near the historic district in an actual neighborhood and in a 3 mile radius of everything I need.
Wait, my first winter in South Dakota was the warmest one... EVER....
I am blessed and I cannot say anything else about it. God needs a leap of faith, a moment of flying, but He is a good catcher. Who knew he would take my little pennies and make a fortune?
No sooner had I arrived in the house than I was greeted by a litany of questions. So, you going back to school? Didn't get enough there? How much is it going to cost? Where will you live? Do you have a job? Have you been applying for jobs? Yeah, what kind? In my family, this is how love is sometimes expressed. Brutally exacting, but out of concern. That's part of why I decided to stay here. I have to move to the biggest city in South Dakota, right by the Iowa border, in order to take the courses needed for medical school admissions. I am, however, staying in the sate, and very close to family on all sides. In this new stage of life, establishing a home is too important to put off. So, I put my foot down and decided to stay here. I am also applying for patient care jobs at different hospitals and nursing homes. The interviews are terribly embarrassing "So, you have a masters's degree and you are applying for this job?" "Where are you from?" "So, you're changing directions.....?(raised eyebrow)" Not to mention that contacting someone for references in Uganda doesn't always work well. This is the hardest thing I will ever do. Choosing to plant roots somewhere, to humbly take my courses as a nontraditional older student, and to bravely take this one day at a time, are all difficult. If you would have told me at 18 that this is where I'd be 8 years later, I wouldn't have believed you---- then I would have cried. Yes, I battle my doubts every day, and I do look at the social work jobs posted every once in a while. In the end, however, if I take what's coming instead of trying to run away, it will turn out. After all, I have a lot of strong, sometimes rigid, support.
The Peace Corps advised us to return home mindful that we would find a unique, and at times foreign, culture awaiting us. Here are some takes on life from South Dakota:
1. Theft: When someone takes your purse out of your unattended grocery cart. (In other states, this is called charity)
2. Town: Any place with a name, a grain elevator, an implement dealer, and a bar.
3. High speed information: ladies' society "prayer" meeting.
4. Headline news: "Man catches 63 fish over license limit"
5. Pot Roast Pizza: The local parlor's specialty; yes, corn, mashed potatoes and roast on a hand tossed crust...
6. State sport: rodeo (again, no joke)
7. Old maid: high school degree and STILL no ring...
8. Foreign land: well, you've heard of WESTERN South Dakota...
9. Claustrophobia: excess of 10 people per square mile (state average).
10.Family doctor: a medical doctor who treats children and senior citizens, and delivers babies! (in other states you need a 5 physician team to do all that!)
I have, for several weeks, been hoping for acceptance into the University of Virginia's prestigious pre- medical post- baccalaureate program (yes it sounds like an old Detroit church name; too loooong). With experienced advising staff, hands on shadowing opportunities, and an excellent reputation for undergraduate instruction, 85% of the those in the program go on to medical school for a reason. The natural beauty of Charlottsville, warm weather, and the architectural beauty of Virginian mansions to boot cannot be ignored. I had been praying for favor, reading the director's research articles, and perfecting my only suit.
Last week, I visited a cousin in Sioux Falls, as her husband, an internist runs the free clinic. I knew something was up when their house was on Euclid; a street always in the older, almost historic and always diverse part of town. True enough, every house on the street was unique and theirs; a purplish brown Victorian, overlooked and blended in with the sunset. Full of books, family pictures, and some well fed cats and dog, the house also had subscriptions to the New York Times and the Economist. My cousin showed me an empty but furnished apartment in the finished basement and told me I was welcome to stay there and do my coursework in town. It was tempting
The next day, I was using a computer in the Sioux Falls free clinic as I followed my cousin in law on his patient rounds. As we were discussing prevalent STD's in the area, I opened my email. Yes, I was accepted into the University of Virginia's program. I did not dwell on it, however, because we were off to examine a suspected hernia. I met with the head of the clinic and worked out an internship using my past experience in social work. Could the mandatory volunteer time with other students at the University of Virginia free clinic really be better?
The previous morning, I had visited Augustana College, a good liberal arts college in Sioux Falls, to see if they offered the courses I would need. The friendly admissions counselor, with the good Dutch name of Dykstra, didn't reprimand me for tardiness, but brought me to the head of the science department. Yes they had a premedical program; with about 90% of graduates getting into medical school. Yes they had worked with "nontraditional" applicants like myself. And yes, there were some scholarships available.
With 5 days to decide; I realize that there are benefits on both sides; I do want to feel at home somewhere. I am tired of moving around. I would love to stay in Sioux Falls. I hesitate, however, to rely on my cousin and her husband and Augustana in place of an officially put together pre-packaged program from the UVA. So far, I feel differently every morning, but I have chosen Sioux Falls for two mornings in a row.....
All red blossoms and leaves verdant green
Fell, rotten, froze
Eventually my guise,
Out identity
If you didn't know me before,
Without,
You now won't glance, see
Only sticks
Stripped twigs thinly remain.
Naked, bare
You'd think them dying, strange
Oh, no.
This is not death,
Everlasting honesty,
Just a glimpse,
Purge,
Fleeting truth,
Look- see
Making way
For spring's bright color
Rest before summer's
Exhausting heat
And a glimpse,
To prepare,
To ponder,
That true fall
That last winter
With Peace.
Valentine’s day recently passed and I celebrated in my usual manner; by filing my taxes. It didn’t take long because my life is remarkably uncomplicated. While I wait to see where I’ll be in April, study in preparation, and line up shadowing opportunities, I jog daily, bake, and hang out with my grandparents.
Despite this simplicity, I do not have the clarity that I did in Uganda. I returned to the states a bit suspicious of the conclusions I reached overseas. I wondered if I could trust such out of context decisions. Cluttered now with my so much well intentioned advice, competing opportunities, chances to compare myself with others, and life details, details, details, many days I often cannot see the big picture. What am I doing? And why on earth?
I realize this is the reason I went to Lesotho in the first place and part of what attracted me to the Peace Corps. The ability to think; clarity, solitude—and it is what I experienced. I have begun to respect the space for thinking that I had there. I am not confused about where I am going or what I am doing. I am not bewildered. I am not lost. I am, instead, one of the only people I know who have been able to think about what I am doing, to stop the hamster wheel, get out of the cage and make active decisions.
When it’s cold outside and you don’t have an ice shack or a hunting license (or even a gun), you end up with--- cards. I have developed my strategy; simply all or nothing. Like in crazy rummy, I hold on to my high cards until I can get them to count for me. If someone else goes out first, I lose, big. If not, I really win. As I was holding my cards, hoping that no one would go out first, hoping that the right card would come my way, I realized that this is my life. My masters’ and Peace Corps are great wild cards but not a complete hand. I have some small cards but am holding my hand for bigger ones. I turned down a position as the County child protective services caseworker. It would have been a decent hand. It would have led to a decent life. Instead, I held onto my cards. I’m turning down the small things that threaten to make me settle; a date with so- and- so; a minimum wage job, anxiety over future debt. I’m giving myself permission to take these three months at my grandparents house to study Calculus, Chemistry and Biology (some with and some without a classroom class) to review my MCAT books, to apply and look into different pre- med and med options, and to read.
Paul Farmer, not a good bedside book because it fills me with drive to pursue medicine, teaches me that my background is valid and my future pursuits worthwhile—to keep holding onto these cards, to try for the big ones. I did hold those cards last night and made 500 points in one round (instead of the 20 I would have otherwise). The next round, I lost, also grandly. I do worry that I am throwing away the bird in the hand for the elusive flock in the tree. My life, however, is not exactly like cards. First of all, as a first world citizen, I don’t have to worry as much about someone else ending it for me. No, instead the round is very, very long. Too long to go out settling for what I have in my hand so far.
A fellow returned Peace Corps volunteer told me, “Sarah, boys are just falling from the sky, I met Luke at a bar last night and now he’s my boyfriend!” --Not this sky, kiddo; I thought. Between classes (with kids 7 years my junior)
and singing at senior housing communities, I seriously doubt anything but snow from this sky. Yesterday afternoon, my grandfather, who had previously been joking about finding me a lonely rancher sat me down for a serious discussion; “I don’t want you to die alone, Sarah.” “Oh Lord!” I thought, on my way to work “Now I’m dying alone; and here I was hoping for at least a Golden Girls’ house beforehand.” At work last week, a little lady from Laos (mother of 10) put me on a machine with a former marine, not so bad looking. “Sarah, you single?” She asked. “Good; Robert, he single too. He vewy nice boy.” I mentioned this to another girl at work, and found that an entire ploy is in place to get Robert and I together. Don’t worry, she said, If Robby doesn’t work out, Sam over there is single too. I know he’s a good man. He loves hunting and fishing. She then proceeded to list each of Sam’s material possessions (and describe his hunting trucks). After all, she says, I don’t want you dying singe, now. Imperfect though they may be, men are indeed falling from the sky, like half fermented grapes from the very well functioning village grapevine. It won’t be long before I find myself on a date at the shooting range, pheasant field, or ice fishing pond some Saturday afternoon.
In Uganda, when a young college graduate loses her job and is broke, she goes back home. Home is where your extended family is, where there is always a second cousin or an uncle or a grandparent to stay with and help out. In Uganda, when an astoundingly successful person finishes her career, she buys land and a house at “home” and cares for nieces, nephews and elderly relatives. I don’t know if I succeeded or failed; if I am choosing this or have no other choices, but I have also gone home to my people. I stay with my grandparents who refuse to let me pay for anything and want me to focus on school. I will stay with my cousin this summer, whose husband is an internal medicine specialist supervising USD medical students.
Yes I wonder if I should go to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. Yes I wonder if, in this state of 800,000, I could ever meet people to connect to. Yes, I am very annoyed that The Economist is taking so long to be delivered. Yes, my yearly habit of crying has become weekly. Yes, sometimes I wonder what the heck I’m doing. It is especially hard that those in my age group have such vastly different lives and outlooks. My people, however, my family; get it. They have me whether they wanted to or not. And I’ve got them.
