Burned

Considering the majority of my blogging has been picture-centric, I feel a little odd writing this.  But in an effort to pre-re-integrate with my native people, I'll allow this post to be Almost entirely self-indulgent.

Nearing the end of service has been to say the least an emotional roller coaster.  I'm not sad, I'm not glad, I'm not excited, I'm not relaxed. In fact, it is hard to articulate quite what's been going on in my mind the last few weeks. I don't want to miss opportunities to see friends I may not see for a very long time, but I'm craving the solace required for reflection.  I am happy to be leaving the scathing coarseness of Ghana and that crueldeaf (I'm guessing) lady who lives behind my house and play Gospel music at all hours, but sad to leave a loyal four-legged confidant (and a few humans) behind. 

I need to start packing.  I hate packing.  I want to get rid of all this stuff that somehow accumulated in my house over the last two years but I don't want to have to go buy new stuff when I return.  With nothing to do, and a couple weeks left to go, in need of some closure- I lit a fire. Not a metaphysical, spiritual, or metaphorical one. A big ole fashioned fire to burn everything I could find, save my COS packet which I will need to get outta here. I know, carbon credits, air pollution, the worst kind. But I figure somehow my volunteer work karmically balances the damage I did the air today.

The fire burned for a couple hours. I didn't realize I had so much stuff. Plastic burns slow and black. When the smoke finally cleared, I was left again with a moldy shell of a house (approximately).  No stacks of Dusty (and often times useless) Peace Corps Handouts under my bed. No filled up notebooks with eager notes from my training days on my book shelves. No "How to Be the Best Damn PCV Ever Manual" (which hasn't been updated since 1970). No molded bottles of palm oil.  No Teacher's notebooks with the skeletons of fail lessons plans still creaking inside. And no half checked lists of things that I should have, could have, and did not do.  Just a clean bookshelf, empty drawers, and a feeling that no matter what comes next, I'm ready.  I did what I could. 

When the smoke cleared and the chickens started their endless pecking in the garbage pit again a heavy rain came, I snuggled into my bedraggled bed (which in my fiery passion almost opted to burn as well) and fell into deep dreamless afternoon nap. 

I'm not necessarily happy to see the final stitches sewn on this experience but I sure am happy to have less baggage to take with me on my next stop.

Random pictures I ferreted out on the internet to entertain the illiterates (read...fans under 4 years old) who probably view my blog religiously, hoping for more pictures of puppies:

Random African tending some burning garbage

Trying to get my point across visually

Chicken eating garbage

Can't disappoint the Puppy fans.