An Ode to 775 Days
How is it that the clock ticks away just the same while the time never seems constant, never passes at a steady pace? At times, the days seemed to drag on forever. There were the scorching hot afternoons spent napping under a mango tree and the dozens of hours spent lost in a new language. But then suddenly, months had passed and students were reading in the new library, the garden was blossoming and the neighborhood kids finally stopped shouting “toubab.”
I spent 775 days in Peace Corps The Gambia.
But how do you truly measure that time when so many of the experiences can’t be explained?
How do you count the moments of love, the lessons in resilience?
It’s time for strangers to turn into family
and for acquaintances to become best friends.
It’s 7 fevers over 100,
3 bouts of Giardia,
and 1 case of intestinal worms.
It’s taking 5,398 pictures
and receiving 57 letters from home.
It’s time to learn how to defeather a chicken,
eat mangos in 6 different ways,
and stop counting the bowls of rice.
It’s 3 rainy seasons and Ramadans
and 2 school years.
It’s time to laugh and to cry,
to love and to learn.
It’s time to grow.
It’s time to change.