Why I'm thankful

In June I hit a wall. Everything about Gulu, Uganda, Africa was seriously irritating me. A lot. A lot A lot. Power outages seemed longer. Corruption seemed more deeply rooted. Internet and phone seemed more delayed. Expats seemed to be doing more harm. The world’s cutest kids seemed more annoying than cute. And I began working for one of the largest bureaucracies in the world. That last one really pushed me to the edge. While the others are largely beyond my control, I chose this box checking job.

Angry outbursts, meditation, holidays (really really nice holidays) didn’t work. I tried to appreciate the money I’m saving. Turns out I’m not motivated by money. “Jessica, you’re so non-profit” as Mary used to say. I was sleeping less and less, suffering from insufferable hayfever and headaches. My cynicism was bordering on racism. I’ve been thinking that I need to leave or Africa might quite literally kill me.

Burn out. It happens everywhere. For expats in Africa, I think burn out particularly plagues energetic and caring people. The big picture begins to seem hopeless. The small picture seems broken. Grasping at straws, expats on the verge of burn out break rules. I’ve found satisfaction in assisting individuals…buying a soccer ball for a cute kid, paying school fees, etc. Who cares about sustainability when you are trying to remember how to feel?! Unfortunately, most people who can stave burn out either do so by leaving or by switching off. The latter is very visible here. There’s lots of useless “20-year plus-ers” floating around this continent. Some are alcoholics. Some are pervs, dating Africans half their age and some are even racist. Many are employing a strategy that I describe with a borrowed phrase: “rope a dope.” In this context it means someone who no longer reacts strongly or even reacts at all to the cacophony of Africa. They dismiss the caring, energetic ones, because they know they’re leaving soon. The ropers take “hits”, like “why don’t you do anything?” or “why don’t you care?” They lean back deep into bureaucratic structures and easily shrug them off. Not quite as glamorous as Mohammed Ali’s victory. Did I mention I was struggling with cynicism?

Gradually I have been breaking down or somehow co-existing with the burn out wall. A steady mantra of self encouragement has helped. Watching my peace and justice projects begin has really helped. Understanding that this wall is part of my life has helped. Getting to the field and seeing for myself that there is less suffering and more hope has helped. Setting a date to leave has helped (aiming for December 2010.)

Most importantly, I’m remembering that the good thing about a 7 year relationship with Gulu is that I have good, local friends. This is a rarity for expats. I was reminded of the deep and meaningful connections I’ve made here this past Saturday when I hosted my 3rd Annual Thanksgiving Day Dinner in Gulu. I cooked for 49 people! Most who came were people I have known for years. I’m verklempt looking at pictures, because I see old friends, new babies, kids who doubled in size from last year and my dog scouring the compound for turkey scraps. I loved battling Samson over music selections. “Under no circumstance,” I told him, “can you play Michael Bolton or Celine Dion. I don’t care if they’re beloved in Africa. And Lil Wayne is not dinner music.” I loved presenting my one billion pack of crayons and markers to the one billion kids that were there. I loved that Hayden broke a sweat baking pies and peeling potatoes.

As thanksgiving does at home, this day truly helped me to pause and reflect gratefully for the friends and families that surround me in Gulu. It has deflected some of my burn out and I’m using the momentum of these warm feelings to appreciate rather than complain. I’ll also use it to stock up on the stuff I need to continue here in Gulu…at least until the 4th Annual Thanksgiving Dinner.