There are surprises around every corner and one of them happens to be dengue-ridden mosquitoes. Another happens to be giardia. And yet another happens to be the drunk neighbor who has forgotten where he lives again and would like to swap opinions on his mother's cooking - in Guarani.
You don't know what dengue and giardia are? Here, look them up:
GIARDIA
DENGUE FEVER
I find that if I let my guard down for just a moment ('my guard' includes peering behind bushes, liberally applying bug spray to my bed sheets and shouting about the deliciousness of all food, at all times), something sneaks up to bite me in the ass. Literally. Living in a foreign country (yep, still feels foreign) means being on your toes at all times or else finding yourself in curious situations that you're way unprepared for. Can I relax in my own home? Not entirely. It's not my home. I'm just squatting here, sharing a bedroom with a 40 year-old woman and an 8 year-old boy and sharing my bed with mosquitoes, fruit flies and bed bugs.
* I don't know why the fruit flies hang out in the bedroom.
In addition, my family watches every move I make like I'm a newly discovered species of human who needs to be carefully monitored, observed and heavily criticized. If I shower less than 2 times a day, it becomes necessary to discuss and laugh uproariously about it with the extended family; if I eat bread for breakfast instead of fatty, creamy cow's milk, I'm put on suicide watch (any girl not eating her fill is obviously depressed); and if I stare too long at a passing man, my compatibility with this man is thoroughly discussed over the phone with at least two other members of the family. It's good have second and third opinions before we decide the wedding colors.
However, the good thing about this constant state of either surprise or preparation for surprise is that my reflexive instincts are becoming finely honed. I've noticed an improvement in my reaction time when grandma says, "You don't like my food?". I can verbally dip and dodge until suddenly the tables are turned and she's practically drowning in guilt for even asking the question. I can skirt around the controversially honest answers to inquiries on religion, salary or U.S. government intent in the war in Iraq (what is that, again?) until the bombillas around me are hanging drolly from mouths plunged in astonishment. As a Peace Corps volunteer, it's necessary to do what other people might call, 'lie'. These half-truths keep us alive and out of the spotlight when it comes to politically- or religiously-charged issues. The rest of the time, the spotlight is all ours.
Physically, these surprises come in the forms of living and inanimate objects at all times of the day and night. Most recently, I've been struck by an interesting set of symptoms that indicate I may be suffering from anxiety or a fatal sub-tropical bacterial infection. Or it might just be something I ate. Endemically speaking, bed bugs are a lovely addition to my life. Or should they really be a concern? Are most people necessarily 'concerned' about the people (or creatures) they share a bed with every night? Their snuggle partners? Their love bugs? No- but I am. Each morning I wake up to an array of new spots and fissures in my skin that indicate an impending life-long dependency on Mederma®. If I was a stronger person, I might greet these new markers of my resiliency with pride but as it were, I take a peek in the 8 x 12 inch mirror in the bathroom and try not to have a panic attack so early in the day, realizing I have little to no control over my body. Of course to have a looksy in the bathroom mirror, I have to fight off a horde of hungry mosquitoes that rise like the second coming of the Messiah from the watery grave of the bathroom floor when I turn on the light. Dengue cloud.
Some of you may be thinking.... God she sounds miserable. Defeated. Depressed. But rest assured, I am none of those things. I've only [further] developed a sense of black humor to prevent myself from sinking into feelings of home-sickness or defeatism.
The challenging part about this first initial piece of service is that we are all struggling through the challenges of living abroad in a third world country and have yet to see many of the rewards. At times, it becomes difficult to remember why we are. The rewards, both for ourselves and for those around us, become a distant point on the horizon, barely visible and seeming to sink slowly backward with each step forward. But with our logical, well-evolved brains (yes, we have those! I swear!), we can remember that thousands of people have come before us and done just what we're doing now and not only survived but flourished.
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