Tuesday, March 19, 2013

The Five Senses of my Peace Corps Life

These are the things I experience daily:
Sight
I see an endless canopy of green, lush trees, gently swaying in the breeze. I see bright and colorful flowers. I see chickens, so many chickens. I see smoke, rising up into the sky from a cooking or trash fire. I see orange dirt, finely coating every surface and me. I see lizards, of ever size and color, traversing walls, ceilings, and trees. I see the smiling faces of my family and students. I see the ocean, sparkling, green, and infinite. I see rain, collecting in messy puddles all around me. I see happy children laughing and splashing in those puddles. 
Sound
I hear the faint rustling of trees when the wind blows. I hear screaming, laughing children. I hear roosters, Lord do I hear roosters, all the time roosters. I hear the unmistakable sound of each family car as it approaches on the road. I hear the crunching of leaves as children and livestock wander through the jungle. I hear yelling voices (most communication is done via yelling). I hear my brothers’ music, constantly playing the same few songs on repeat. I hear the hum of electric fans. I hear the stone-on-stone sound of my Pahpa mixing local medicines. I hear metallic work-sounds of my uncle repairing something. I hear the chatter of my sister’s sewing machine, as she busily creates skirt after skirt to sell in town. I hear laughter, always laughter. I hear the (not so soft) lullabies sung to the new baby. I hear my almost 2 year old nephew as he attempts to speak. I hear the many sounds of pigs. I hear the bubbling of the water tank just outside my bedroom. I hear the soothing patter of rain on the rooftop.
Smell
I smell smoke, soot, and dust. I smell mildew. I smell the stomach-churning scent of pig, chicken, dog, cat, and human waste. I smell oil, as food is being fried. I smell the comforting fragrance of my laundry soap. I smell body-odor. I smell the pungent odor of the local medicinal concoctions. I smell the cleansing scent of rain. I smell the familiar scent of my Dove deodorant and bar soap, as it both comforts and taunts me (haha—you’re not really clean!). I smell motor oil and gas. I smell soup cooking over the fire. I smell freshly cut grass. I smell the relaxing scent of my Nohno’s massage oils. I smell the stinging (yet welcomed) scent of bleach after I’ve cleaned the bathroom. And even with all of this, I even some times inhale deeply the scent of pure, fresh air.
Taste
I taste rice, which has somehow become less bland as time goes on. I taste gallon after gallon of life-sustaining water. I taste fish of all varieties prepared in countless ways. I taste gum sent from home, which I hoard and ration like gold. I taste fruits of many varieties, most of which I have never tasted before, none of which are sweet. I taste the earthy grit of local medicines when I am inevitably sick. I taste refreshing coconut water on a hot day (every day).  I taste and I savor the occasional treat of (melted) chocolate.
Touch
I feel hot. I feel sweaty. I feel discouraged. I feel sick. I feel bored. I feel frustrated. I feel grimy. I feel like I might die if I eat one more bite of fish. I feel lazy. I feel trapped. Sometimes I feel mad. I feel like an alien. I feel like an idiot. I feel sticky. I feel stress like I have never felt before. I feel the constant itch of ant and mosquito bites. I feel the familiar tickle of a bug crawling across my skin. I feel the pure pleasure of letting raindrops land on my face on a hot day (every day). I feel immense pride and joy when a student surprises me. I feel immeasurable love being poured out from my family. I feel independent. I feel inspired. I feel empowered. I feel hopeful. I feel resourceful. I feel accomplished. And even through the ups and downs, I feel happy.
--Christy

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