Peace Corps and Bipolar Disorder

Perhaps to say that I am referring to Bi-Polar Disorder in the clinical sense would be an exaggeration. I am thinking more along the lines of my own oscillating sense of euphoria/disgust with Mozambique, Mozambicans, and life in general.

But there is some scientific fact behind my ramblings. PC medical actually gives you a chart when you go through training showing the psychological ups and downs you will go through during your service . I have never been too online with the chart. I think that my fluctuations are more daily. Today I hate. Today the sky has opened and rays of gloriousness are shining down on my life. Today CAUTION: will cry at the drop of a hat. Today Mozambique is paradise. Today I'm sick, fuck you. Etc. Iraque has learned to tell when I am in fuck you funk and keeps his distance.

But since the day to day is sort of crazyness and difficult to follow, let me try to trace my general phases:

It is pretty safe to say that I hated Mozambique and my life here in general for about the first 6 months of service. But I think that is normal for Peace Corps Volunteers. Or at least that is what I keep telling myself.

At the time it didn't seem so. Even during training, all the volunteers seemed so remarkably ok. “Oh no, I am not worried, I love Mozambique, this is what I have always wanted to do, I am so rugged...” Liars.

Why did I hate it? Teenagers are little ungrateful bitches, Mozambicans are nosy and consider me a crazy incompetent zygote (people questioning my physical or mental capacity is my biggest pet peeve EVER), life is dirty, and I was working like a dog. Yes I had a larger work load then other volunteers, and on top of that I had no idea what I was doing. Teaching classes of 60 kids that are all about my age, and me being the little white girl with a bundle of enthusiasm but little/no training= exhaustion.

As a result, I spent about six months proclaiming how I loathed teaching - though always loved my students even though they were pains in my booty - cursing my roommate, her 2395239578042 visitors, and her general bossy-ness, and finding my only solace in a local man, tropical fruits and pristine beaches.

And then it all took a turn for the better. My roommate realized that I wasn't a completely inept heathen child, probably in large part because I was able to “care for” my boyfriend and even fatten him up a little which is a true sign of a good woman. I also got used to/became complacent to her demands.

Maybe that's what happened in general. I just resigned myself to the seemingly interminable-ness of my situation, stopped fighting and began doing things their way.

That's a little depressing. People say you lose your idealism in Peace Corps. I hope I don't lose all my fire too. I used to be a pretty feisty little thing.

Regardless of the reason, I was pretty darn happy with my little life here as I prepared to make my 48 hour journey back home for the holidays.

And then came January, and I returned to Mozambique. Upon my return, everyone commented how I had fattened up at home, it turned out that the man who had approved my $14,000 grant application was no longer working with the US mission in Mozambique due to a nasty case of embezzling, it was hot, everyone kept asking when I was going to marry Iraque, and Iraque was pretty distraught and certain that I would return hating Mozambique and swiftly leave and never return.

Well, don't tell him, but as Iraque had suspected, I generally resented Mozambique for not being America and it made for a rocky few weeks.

And then the gloriousness returned. Can't even really explain it. Life is beautiful. Let me sing Mozambique's praises.

Am I crazy or just a little slow to come around to change? Or both?

My conclusion: people are adaptable creatures. Give yourself enough time in any one place and you will find your niche. Koom-by-ya.