Fun’s song, ‘Some Nights’ was the top for a while,
particularly the bridge where the singer is familiarly wondering if this all was
worth it (So this is it? I sold my soul for this?) Also by Fun, ‘Carry On’ has
made its way onto my wall at my house (When you’re lost and alone and you’re
sinking like a stone, carry on).
Times like today where I went junking and made out like a
bandit, all I can hear as I strut away
is ‘Thrift Shop’ by Macklemore ( Probably should have washed this, smells like
R. Kelly sheets, but shit, it was 99 cents!)
But the most applicable at all times is hands down ‘With A
Little Help from My Friends’ by the Beatles.
I know this is a tune I’ve sang before, but my people here
are my people for good.
I was recently talking to a good friend from home who I
haven’t talked to in a while and they asked me about Salone, and why it was
hard for me. I realized that I don’t know how to explain it really to someone
who doesn’t live here. I don’t know how to speak American anymore. I didn’t
realize I had lost it because I’m around my Americans all the time, but they
understand the random Krio that slips into the conversation, the Salone sounds
that we use to convey tone and don’t write home when we talk about how
sometimes flogging makes sense.
There’s more to someone speaking your language than tonal
muttering and guttural sounds. There’s an inherent connection that we all share
here that doesn’t seem to translate to friendships in the States. There’s nothing external about anything here.
I mean, we scoped each other out when we first got here and then we all
promptly stopped shaving and flossing, and started getting random rashes,
losing muscle and smelling. But no one cares. Because we’re all so gross, no
one really notices.
Once you strip all the American trappings away, you get down
to what actually matters. There are so many times that my best friend and I
look at each other, usually when I’m trying to explain why fashion is important
or she’s rattling off the stats to every team in the Premier League, and we know
that we never would have been friends in the States. That thought both
terrifies and mystifies me. How much of your Identity is rooted in external
things? Would I have missed out on one of the strongest relationships of my
life because I thought sarongs were more important than soccer balls?
This is true with pretty much everything here. You don’t
have your things here. You don’t have your clothes, your makeup, or sometimes
even your dignity. But without all of that, you’re stripped naked, down to as
real as you can be. And when people can love you for that, they’re soul mates.
I’ve always believed in soul mates. To much mocking from my
friends, I always believed that there was one perfect person for everyone and
your paths would cross when they were meant to. That when you met that person,
you would know. I still believe this in the romantic sense. But more strongly
now, I believe this with your friends. Your true friends who know you past
anyone else.
The Salone 3’s that have been here for a year already have
been our lifelines in this country, and I know we want to be the same for
Salone 5 when they get here, so…
For future Salone 5- here’s my most important piece of
advice I can give you from this point in my service- Love your family. Your
Peace Corps family is the only way you’ll survive here. And they’re the
greatest people your life will ever have. Make them yours.
“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever souls are made of, his
and mine are the same.”
-Emily Bronte
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