The End of the Honeymoon Phase

I knew this time would come eventually. The day when I would wake up and think, “This sucks.” And that is definitely how I felt this morning. My adorable bunny died (for what reason, I don’t know). I’m tired of carrying water just to take a cold bucket bath. I’m getting sick of the 45 minute walk to school every morning (especially when I have to leave before sunrise to teach morning lessons). And I’m getting REAL sick of people assuming that because I am a mzungu, I have money to throw around (about four people a day ask me for money). I’m discouraged with the lack of critical thinking skills taught in school (my students have only been taught how to memorize information word for word, but have much difficulty in actually understanding concepts). I still don’t understand dhoLuo which makes it hard to feel like I am a part of the staffroom conversations. And to top off my wonderful day, the choo door swung open, while I was mid pee stream, in front of the entire school. And I really miss some American luxuries. I am craving a slice of T-birds pizza, some Yogurtland, a pedicure, and a nice hot shower (Two years seems sooooooo far away to fulfilling these wants).
But all this whining and complaining will change, I know. It seems like emotions are really amplified here; the highs are so high and the lows are so low. Some days I’m so ecstatic to be here, motivated to make a difference, and enthusiastic about doing all the menial tasks of everyday life. But there are some days, like today, when I just think about how much easier life would be in the states (pizza delivery?!?!). But an easy life is not why I joined the Peace Corps. So please don’t be worried that I hate life here. I don’t. I’m just in a dip on the Peace Corps’ emotion rollercoaster.
This weekend I will be visiting Kisumu to treat myself to the closest thing to American luxuries this country has to offer: A movie (in an actual movie theater!), some sunbathing by the pool (there are hotel pools that you can visit for the day), and some new clothes (well, not really new, but second hand clothes or as Kenyans call it “Dead White People Clothing). I am looking forward to meeting up with some Peace Corps volunteers to celebrate a friend’s birthday, eat food besides ugali and githeri, and watch the Superbowl (albeit at 3am in the morning). There is nothing some venting, retail therapy, and a glass of wine can’t cure. I know tomorrow will be a new day (hopefully with no dead bunnies). RIP Abby.