A splash of familiar, with a side of anxiety
Saturday, January 10, 2004
Chicago, IL, USA
I just wanted some breakfast cereal. One box of breakfast cereal.
That's all. That's what got me where I was. Standing in the breakfast
aisle of the big-name, chain supermarket-Dominick's, I think,
but it doesn't matter-facing some 300 boxes of breakfast cereal,
in a daze, hypnotized, not even considering the options, unaware
of the passing minutes…
"Hurry up, we have to go!" My mother interrupted my
trance. "You've been standing there for 20 minutes!"
I snapped out of it, scanned the options once more, trying to
think about what exactly I was in the mood for. I scanned-colorful
boxes, all sizes, sugary children's cereals that felt like home,
wholesome adult cereals with useful things like nuts, raisins,
fiber, cereals that are light and float at the top of the bowl,
heavy cereals that absorb the milk and rest in a heap at the bottom
of the bowl, expensive cereals, more expensive cereals, name brands,
generic brands. Suddenly, I was aware of a deep, sinking, queasy
feeling at the pit of my stomach. The kind you get when the roller
coaster begins its dip. I couldn't breathe. Was I going to throw
up? I didn't want to be there. I wanted to be home, in bed, under
the covers, hiding…
I grabbed the box closest to me, threw it into the grocery cart
and insisted we leave immediately. I had been home less than 24
hours and already I was overwhelmed by what America has to offer.
After 17 months in Uzbekistan, I decided it was time for a trip
home, and here I am. I'm not sure what I was expecting home to
be like. I've never been gone for so long before. I guess I expected
to pop back into the environment and the routine as if I had never
left. I expected for things to be normal, and for the most part
they have been. I have showered every day. I have washed my clothes
in automatic machines. I can still drive a car. I have hung out
with friends and family. I have watched a lot of jeopardy, bad
reality television, and Cosby Show reruns. I have walked down
busy streets without being stared at or harassed, without hearing
"Hello! What is your name? India! India!" Yes, America
is as wonderful as I've remembered it, hassle-free and full of
conveniences and opportunities. And everything has been fairly
normal. Except for the occasional anxiety attack. I have been
home for 17 days. I leave for Uzbekistan tomorrow. Considering
recent frustrations at my site, I wasn't sure if I would want
to go back, but now I am ready to go back. Or to leave America,
at least.
I didn't know it that day as I ran out of the grocery store gasping
for fresh air, but that queasy feeling in my stomach and difficulty
breathing would stay with me for most of the next couple of weeks.
These feelings have been most prevalent when I have tried to go
shopping. Shopping has, of course, been a big part of my plans
in America. Shopping for things I need-clothes, underwear, coffee,
batteries, shampoo, etc.-and gift shopping for people in Uzbekistan.
But time and time again, everywhere I have go-the shopping mall,
Wal-Mart, Target, OfficeMax-I end up running out of the store,
or at least walking very fast, needing fresh air and wondering
if I will throw up. There is too much here. Too much of everything.
Too much to buy. Too much to own. Too much to consider, to think
about. Sure, I appreciate having the options and the opportunities.
I don't take that for granted. I just wasn't prepared with everything
all at once on my short visit home. That's it. I just wasn't prepared.
Coming home
What brought me to America in the first place? Well, I never planned
on coming home until after my service was finished. But two years
is a long time to be a Peace Corps volunteer in an underprivileged
community. And one day sometime in November, I realized that suddenly,
I had been in Uzbekistan for way too long. I was tired. Living
in another culture is incredibly fascinating, exciting and perspective
altering, but it can also be exhausting. I had become tired of
tiptoeing around the details and formalities of Uzbek village
culture. I was tired of trying to explain my every thought, desire,
action, opinion. I was tired of the village gossip, of trying
to do projects and failing because of corruption or because no
one in the community was willing to help. But I wasn't ready to
give up and quit for good. No, in fact, my work had been getting
slightly more encouraging and I was ready to take a shot at some
new projects at school and in the village. I just needed a splash
of the familiar, a bit of time with people who understand me.
So I booked a plane ticket home and delved into my new projects.
But the home culture can be tiring as well. What I have learned
in my time home is that Uzbekistan has changed me a bit, at least
for the time being. America is over stimulating, fast-paced, and
future-oriented. Since I arrived home, I have been asked repeatedly,
"What's next?" What will I do after November, when my
service ends? What's in the future for me? Graduate school, where
will I apply? Jobs, will I teach more or go back to journalism?
These are all very important questions, I suppose. But still,
it's just more to think about. I have tried to give these questions
serious thought as they were posed to me, but again, I've become
tired.
Maybe some people in Uzbekistan are also future-oriented, but
not in the village. Things, life, breakfast are all much simpler
out there. People are more concerned with the present, and are
satisfied to make it through each day. Out there simple pleasures
go a long way. What's important is having tea with the neighbors,
fresh milk in the morning, and the first snow of the winter. Village
people also think about their futures, but their dreams seem so
far away, impossible or untouchable, that they do not often influence
their daily routines. Now is now, and then will come later. This
is what I have grown accustomed to. This is why I don't have answers
to the "What's next?" questions. I haven't really thought
about it much. But with only 9 ½ months left of my service,
maybe I should.
It seems coming home has served its purpose. I feel refreshed.
I feel positive again. I have shared my stories and my experiences
with people who are completely removed from that world, and that
has helped me put my life in Uzbekistan back into the proper,
or at least a better, perspective. I have spent time with my family
and my friends. I have hung out, watched movies, and enjoyed Chicago's
1 degree weather. I have eaten a lot of breakfast cereal with
cold milk, pizza, seafood, and I have drunk gallons of lemonade.
The comforts of home were nice while they lasted, but it's time
to go back, and the comforts of my other home await me.
