Alright, all: this is the last time I sit down to write something that isn't my personal statement. I must start it, or at least create a word document for it, before I blog again. I'm already hyperventilating about this (not the lack of free writing, more the requirement of formal writing) so I think starting tomorrow I'll just force myself still for 15 minutes per day in front of the to-be-created word doc and see what happens.
All the best plans start tomorrow; you know that, right?
Tomorrow Emily and I have our last two focus groups, which will bring the total to a chilling twelve. Then it's time to tie up loose ends, prepare for (re: start) a presentation we're giving later this week on our findings, work on our paper, and, arguably most important: continue exploring the Pandora's box that is our bicycle ambulance initiative (which I recognize I've yet to outwardly describe; bear with me).
Today, the Fishers, Alfred, Richard, and I went to Mzuzu and met with a member of the District Heakth Office to share with them our thoughts and plans regarding bicycle ambulances (again, I'll return to this, you can count on it).
Organization-wise, it was a day that wouldn't jive with my life in NYC, a day that had it occurred 2 months ago may have given me a headache.
But it's a funny thing that happens when you stop expecting things to go as planned. It's a peculiar shift in mindset that takes place when you've spent the last two months in a vortex of meetings starting late, stores remaining closed, ATMs running out or money, check out lines coming to abrupt and arbitrary halts, cars breaking down, restaurants running out of food.
What is it that happens?
You chill. I've chilled. And though I'm still a rose with a stem of prickly flaws, the unexpected, the annoying, and the delays-- I'm trying to embrace.
I should note here, before I fall asleep, that I don't have a personality dysmorphic disorder. I'm not as crazy as I'm making my Non-Africa self seem- I know I'm not and I know you know I'm not. Rivers go with the flow and so do I. Most of the time. But rivers are shallow and sometimes deeper down I need to remind myself to just breath.
In Malawi, beyond the stagnant lines and the moneyless ATMs and the broken clocks and the watchless wrists is a society gritting it's teeth and stomping it's feet to the tune of what's actually important. Days and life and agendas going according to plan are not. I hope I remember this when I'm home.
Good night,
Rebecca
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