On Rollin' with the Punches

I had a lovely phone call with one of my best friends from back home the other day. Katie asked me about how things were going in Madagascar, and I asked her about her new job and life in Raleigh. We filled each other in on all of the changes that we had recently encountered in our lives, and it was so comforting to share stories with someone who has been a part of my life for so long. We talked about how scary it can be to have so many new changes all at once, to which she responded, “Yeah, but you’re doing it!”

My YAGM year has had its fair share of changes. It seems like anytime I start to get comfortable, something happens and I’m uprooted. My first home was Chicago. My second home was Antsirabe. My third home was Ambohibao. My fourth home was Antsirabe round 2. And my fifth home will be South Africa.

During orientation, one of my friends talked about how someone had accidentally referred to the dorms where we were staying as  “home.” After thinking about it for a second, he exclaimed, “Well, I guess home now is wherever my stuff is.” I laughed when she told me that, but now I’m realizing just how true that statement is.

I first heard about the plague at the hospital where I was working in Ambohibao. In one day, three different people had told me about “la pesta” and asked me if I was scared. I was advised to temporarily stop using public transportation and to take antibiotics as prophylaxis. Schools closed in my city so I couldn’t work all week. I spent the week cooped up in my room reading a lot of books. It was quiet and it was lonely. I patiently waited for news on what the next steps would be.

One week later, the decision was made to move me from my site back to Antsirabe (where we were for orientation) as a precaution with another volunteer, Amanda. Our areas were the two that had the most reported plague cases. A part of me was excited to be moved to a place where I could breath a little easier, walk around anywhere, and spend quality time with another YAGM.

But a part of me was really, really bummed. I had just started settling into my host community. I was learning my way around. I had just attended my first choir practice. I was learning my students’ names. My new family was truly beginning to feel like family. Patterns were beginning to form – like running with my friend Hery every Saturday at 5am.

But off to Antsirabe I went. The first few days were hard. I felt plucked from my home and I didn’t know how to spend my time. But then, I started to get into a rhythm. I started to get more comfortable. I vowed to get out of this funk and make the best of this crazy situation.

We started helping with the English classes at Lovasoa. We found random online recipes and took turns cooking (including tortillas from scratch and a coconut soup recipe I totally made up). We tried new restaurants in Antsirabe. We made random friends at dinner. We forced each other to get out and exercise on the soccer field. We ate a lot of ramen noodles (not because we had to, but because they’re our fave). We helped judge an English speech competition with fellow Peace Corp volunteers. We attended a worship service at Lovasoa with people from a variety of different countries. We enjoyed a meal and good conversation with one of our Malagasy teachers. And maybe, most importantly, we enjoyed each other’s company through all of it. I don’t know if YAGM does superlatives, but Amanda would definitely win for best person to spend two weeks avoiding the plague with.

Before hanging up the phone a couple of days ago, Kirsten (our country coordinator) said, “Build each other up, okay?” And that’s exactly what Amanda did for me the past two weeks. She became my partner in crime, and she made Lovasoa home.

And now off we go, to our new temporary home in South Africa. More changes. But I think I’m starting to realize that the more things change, the more they stay the same. Here I am, still adjusting to living in a new country with the addition of a plague outbreak, but (in the words of Katie) I’m doing it. And I’m able to do it because I find comfort in the variety of ways that things still feel the same amidst the change.

In strengthening new friendships. And reconnecting with old friends from back home. In hard, sweaty workouts and tear-jerking episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. In shared meals and good conversation and familiar hymns and chocolate milk.

A fellow YAGM, Juliana, urged me to not view this detour as putting my YAGM year on hold. Rather, she assured me that figuring out how to navigate the unexpected is just as valuable. And my small group leader, Jen, reminded me that a huge part of a YAGM year is just learning to roll with the punches. I’m thankful for the ways that they have both helped me put everything in perspective.

So, I miss my host community immensely and I can’t wait to go back. And I worry about the people of Madagascar and pray that the plague epidemic is controlled soon. But until then, I’m rolling with the punches and learning to give up control. Because there’s something special about being plucked from everything you know. You adapt. You learn how to make it work. And sometimes, you come out laughing. Knowing full well that your God is walking with you always.