You leave
everything you’ve ever known behind.
Full of possibility
And hope.
You arrive
thinking, believing,
that you can
improve knowledge
affect behavior
enact change.
Sometimes your projects succeed;
But more often than not,
they fail.
Sometimes, they never even lift off the ground.
You grow frustrated, angry, and tired.
Maybe, probably, you grow cynical
and a little jaded, too.
And you blame
everyone you can think of
to blame:
The organization that isn’t supporting you.
The beneficiaries that aren’t listening to you.
Yourself, most of all, for not being better, for not being perfect,
for not being
what you think
people expect you
to be.
You might cry or sink into despair
And you’re so far from home.
But then, something happens
Most likely something small.
It could be that a shy student
learns to play a “C” chord on your guitar
or masters your favorite English slang
or brings you pineapples
or mangoes
or lychee
or fish
or write you a letter in her best, broken English.
It could be that you finally succeed in making akoho sauce that is just as, if not more, delicious
than the one at your local hotely, and now your neighbors are asking you
for the recipe.
It could be
that you sit with a friend who is hurting,
and you realize, maybe for the first time,
You are not alone.
It could be at trip
or a dance
or a night out on the town
or a first kiss
or a joke that you finally understand
and that makes you laugh
from the bottom of your belly, all the way up to
your nostrils.
And then, all of a sudden,
Two years have passed.
Your time is up.
And you realize
That your journey
Was never made up of big moments—
But of thousands and thousands
of little ones.
Another Adventure 