Community Spirit

Alright, here's a journal entry from December 19th. It's pretty personal, and it deals a lot with my hometown of Flora, Indiana, so eventhough the names and places won't be familiar, I hope the general message will come through. I'm still processing the fact that I have less than a year left in country, that I've already been here nearly a year, and that old friends have left while I'm continually meeting new friends and strengthening those relationships. This entry came about as a result of these thoughts and general worries that I wasn't accomplishing anything in my time here. Without further introduction, here it is.

Yesterday wasn't really disheartening, it was more just a reflection on what I'm doing here. The thing with Peace Corps is that we're only nominally here to develop Niger. I mean, let's face it, the average Volunteer will be confronted by a lot more problems than he/she will be able to solve in two short years. There are just too many in one of the world's poorest countries. As much as there's an emphasis on agriculture, health, and education as development sectors, I think the biggest transformation any Volunteer may accomplish here is personal. I can't even begin to measure the changes I've gone through here, the emotions that have been instantly expressed rather than deflected through distraction and buried, the growth in knowing who I am and empathizing with what others can be.

Today, I came back from the gardens and sat with my neighbor kids Razak and Uzefatu. I played a bit; I picked them up and swung them around by their arms until I was so dizzy that I fell down. They all laughed at me while I sat there with my head spinning. It's such a small thing, infinitely small, but it makes me feel good. I feel like part of a community more and more every day that I'm in village. My friend Moumouni and I had a great conversation today that reflected a lot of my changing notions of community. I told him Niger may be hard, but that in some ways, it's far easier than America. Niger has security nets in the form of family and community, strong ties that America just doesn't have enough of anymore. We don't trust our neighbors. We trust strangers even less.

I'm lucky in a lot of ways because I came from a small town. Everyone knows everyone there. It has both good and bad moments. There's support at the cost of privacy. Everyone knows everyone else's business. I wonder though, if this is so bad. Your neighbors watch over you. I think back to when I was a kid. I'd go over to my neighbor Nettie's for cookies. Across the street, Ed would have his barbecue every summer. There was time down by the creek at Sue's, the cat house, the candy lady, people and places that now exist only in memory, and perhaps only in the memory of a handful of people. What I mean is that those memories are nearly all from over twenty years ago. Times change. People move on. Flora is lucky to still have places like Payne's drug store, Ayres' hardware, Eikenberry's Fine Furniture, Stephan's IGA, Bishop's Barber Shop, Jim Allen's gas station, Parrett's meat processing. As I write these names, it strikes me how funny it is that these are all the actual names of stores in my hometown. Family owned businesses: the name of the owner and what kind of business they do.

But also, as I write all these names, I'm struck by how old all the owners are now. They're all of my parent's age, and as far as I know, none of them have anyone who's serious about taking over the business once they're gone. Much has been written about Wal-Mart, Home Depot, Walgreen's, and other big box stores, so I won't add to the wealth that's already out there. But one of the things that I said to my friend Moumouni, and one of the things that I began to understand myself as I spoke these ideas out loud, is that for all America has, all the things we take for granted that many here would marvel at, all these things that should make us happy, don't. For all America has, there are very few who are truly happy. We've sold our communities to specialization and cheap, imported crap. What happens to our communities when those very few individuals holding them together are gone? The only reason a lot of those places I mentioned are still in business is customer loyalty, and many of those customers are older than the shopkeepers. What happens when those customers are gone? What becomes of Flora, Indiana in twenty years?

There aren't any faces in our communities anymore. It's alienating. I like that I can walk around Flora and talk to the people with whome I have business. Mike Bishop, Jim Allen, the Eikenberrys, they all know me, just like Moumouni, who I buy all my cloth from in my market town, knows me. Every week I go to see him and talk with him, even if I don't have any business. He's my friend, and it's always better to buy from someone you trust. I'm not going to have a personal conversation with a Wal-Mart employee. In fact, with the type of people that typically work there, I don't think I'd want to.

In the end, we lose our sense of self, our sense of purpose, and our sense of worth. That Wal-Mart employee doesn't care about me, and I don't care about him/her. When we're confronted daily by people who don't care about us, people who see us only as a face, or worse, a body, we lose a little bit of our humanity. no wonder so many are depressed, anxious, and unhappy these days. No wonder we have a new drug every day for symptoms that you didn't know you had. When I look at all I've lost in America, and all that I've gained coming here, or even just traveling about, I marvel at the deep hurt so many people feel in the modern world. All the wonders that we've experienced with technology, and I don't know if we're any better in spirit.

This isn't meant to sound alarmist or depressing, these are just thoughts I've had recently as I've had time to myself to sort through all the noise that's slowly been filtered out after nearly a year away from home. It's interesting to talk to the Volunteers who are closing their service and going back home after over two years away. Many are afraid they won't know how to handle themselves in America again. If they'll be able to readjust to the constant movement inherent in modern life. The longer I'm here, the more I worry about my own ability to readjust.