It's my last day in Mali. I've been thinking for a week about ideas for the topic of my Grande Final Opus – the last chapter in the epic saga of "Dembele Be Sho Dun," the story of how I moved to Africa, changed my name to Dembele, and embraced a culture of eating with my hands, making jokes about eating too many beans (hence the blog title making fun of farting, bean-eating Dembeles). I tried to think of a suitable epitaph for leaving my work, leaving Africa, returning to my motherland, and learning how to be an American again. I needed some great statement, a commentary on how the last two years in Africa have effected me, or even better, how I've effected the last two years in Africa. I tried to capstone this point in my life with something that does justice to the weighty epoch I'm living.
But instead, I went out with my fellow PCVs to the bar to get some drinks. Just like I used to do back in The States, just like I will soon be doing again. Later, lying in bed, beer still sloshing around in my belly, I fought with all my might against the spins that accompany lying down while still drunk, and it occurs to me that this too is just like it was back in the US, and I don't plan to learn my lesson before I head home again. And it hit me right then and there, the reason I couldn't think of any great way to express the feeling of finishing this part of my life is that this part of my life isn't really ending. Or more accurately, "this part" of my life doesn't really even exist. Life isn't divided into chapters. Nothing really ends, it just sort of melts into something else that likewise doesn't really "begin" so much as become noticeable. There is no Big Bang in life, it is all just a continuous flow of events that change from one thing into another, like a camera panning from one side of a room to the other, rather than a series of jump-cut shots.
It's not that leaving Mali and finishing the Peace Corps isn't a big deal, or a momentous occasion for me. After all, I did celebrate by buying a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label Scotch. But this is not the end. My life isn't over, my travels aren't over, my relationship with Mali and the people there, African or American, isn't over – not even this blog is over. The only thing ending is my Peace Corps service. I could try to summarize everything I've learned, all the new ways that I will understand the world, but I don't really think I could articulate want I want to convey while I'm just sitting here writing. I'm not even finished learning everything I will learn from doing the Peace Corps. I know there are thoughts that will come to me long after I've left Mali, long after I've arrived in America and only realize months later after when something hits me all of a sudden.
Last night, we were drinking in a bar in Bamako called Appaloosa. It is the most ludicrously contrived American-style institution I've ever seen. All over the bar are statues, memorabilia, posters and wall-hangings of cowboys and Indians, American whiskies, race cars, rifles, flags, and more of the most over-the top Americana possible. Wednesday is Karaoke Night, so we rocked the night away with "Bohemian Rhapsody," Creedence, and more. It was as if in honor of the dozen of us who are on their way back to America, we spent our last big night in Mali being as heavily American as possible. And in this way too, American life has begun before Malian life has even ended.
More accurately, there isn't a difference between American Life and Malian Life. America and Mali are as different as any two countries can be, but it's all part of My Life. It's like going from a best guy friend's house to a girlfriend's and the two have completely dichotomous personalities. You talk with one about favorite athletes and beers, and get nice and cozy with the other, but you love them both to death. I came to Mali partly to get away from American Life for a little while and try something new, but not to completely break off my American Life. More accurately, I am just adding more to My Life as a whole. Besides, part of the mission of the Peace Corps is to draw bridges between America and the areas where volunteers serve (as outlined in a previous entry, "Scoring the Third Goal). I find that I'm doing this, not just externally, telling people how others live, but in my own head, I'm creating new paradigms for how to look at the world. I'm adapting what I've learned and seen in Mali for the last two years, and when I come home, I will be that much more able to deal with the unfamiliar and exotic.
All that said, I'm still pretty psyched to be leaving here. There is a pretty cool sense of accomplishment for having done a complete Peace Corps Service. And there is a reeaallyy cool sense of accomplishment for having finally finished all my paperwork, closed all my projects, returned all my Peace Corps property, picked up my last paycheck, and, as I will soon be doing, getting on an airplane and getting the F*** out of this crazy country! My plans for the immediate future take me and my fellow PCV Zach to Tunisia, Italy to meet my sister, and perhaps even a treck to Munich in time for Oktoberfest. There's a great "graduation" sort of feeling in the air, as we all depart this bizarre version of our lives that took up the last two years. I'll eventually go home at the beginning of October and start trying to, not "start my new life" or even "embark on the next chapter" as the cliches say, but just move forward. So here's to moving forward, but continually looking backward to what is being left behind. Here's to my friends, the food, and the life that is Peace Corps Mali!
Lechaim!
P.S. There are a whole lot of new pictures up on my Flickr account: flickr.com/photos/29040473@N02/
