Technically, I am still in Africa. I am somewhere over the Sahara desert. I can see it from the window of my plane. It is a vast expanse of uninhabitable land. From the air, it looks as barren as my soul feels. By the time I post this however, I will be either in Europe or the United States.
On my last day in Africa, all the difficulties that I had there in the past couple of weeks seemed to converge and I went through the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. One of the horses had died in the middle of road, it was New Year’s Eve, my internet didn’t work and I was missing my family dreadfully so I went to the internet café, ready to talk to my family and friends, ready to leave Ethiopia. There was a lot of revelry on the street because of the New Year’s holiday. There were men in traditional African dress with sticks, jumping and singing and dancing…the soul of Africa. It was wonderful and at that moment, I thought my doubts and misconceptions were unfounded. I thought that the celebration was enough to sustain me through the pain of the dead horse and the lack of access to my family, but it wasn’t.
On the way home as I walking by myself down a deserted section of sidewalk between the café and my apartment, I heard a sound from behind me that didn’t register and at the same time a man swerved near me. At first I thought the man was just drunk, imbibing too much on the holiday, but he wasn’t. He was completely naked even to the point of being minus any shoes. I thought it might be someone playing a joke on The Ferengi woman. After he went past me, I realized that it wasn’t just that he was naked but also his hands were tied behind his back at his forearms. It looked extremely painful. My heart leapt to my throat as I tried to figure out what to do. I kept thinking it was a joke or maybe even an attempt to get me to stop to rob me. I couldn’t quite get my head around why his arms were tied behind his back. He kept swerving near me. I heard the sound again as someone yelled and it finally registered to me what the sound I kept hearing was…the sound of a whip. That was why the man kept swerving toward me, not to poke fun at me but because, near me, the naked man was safe. No one was going to whip someone with a ferengi nearby who would possibly get whipped too. I didn’t know what to do. I was a white woman, unfamiliar with the customs, not speaking the language, and not understanding if this was something that was cultural that I shouldn’t interfere in or if it was staged to catch me off guard or maybe if a crime was taking place. I didn’t know. All I knew was that if I stopped and turned, I would be faced with a man with a whip.
Because I was so upset by it, I did what seemed right to me in that moment and crossed to the other side of the road. The naked man ran that way too and stayed with me, loping along as well he could with his hands tied behind his back. The man with the whip started yelling louder. His yelling combined with my obvious upset caught the attention of three men standing on the corner where I needed to turn to go to my apartment. One of them started yelling. When he did, the naked man, who had never uttered a sound, went back toward the middle of the road where the median was. He did seem to be limping on his bare feet and couldn’t go very fast with his arms pinned behind his back. He was a young man, probably early twenties. He seemed to be scared but that might be my own fears projected onto him. His silence was deafening and it condemned me.
My shame in the whole experience was that I did nothing … and it makes me sick. I don’t speak the language so I could not tell what they were yelling to him, I was the only female around and the only ferengi (foreigner). I was scared. So I did nothing…I just crossed the road to where other people were. A man was being driven down the street naked by a man with a whip and I DID NOTHING. And the truth is, in my life with all its hardship, I have never been so close to total insanity where I just wanted to start yelling at the top of my lungs to get them to STOP. It was a surreal moment of madness. At that moment, I was broken.
I am sad to say I wasn’t strong enough to do the job that Ethiopia needed me to do. I lied awake most of the night and have cried most of the way to Europe. I had wanted to make a difference in the lives of Ethiopian children with my understanding of math education and technology. I wanted to learn and grow as a human being from the wonderful people I met like Dawit and Baruk. I had hoped I could give back to all the people who have given so much to me and helped me on the journey of my life. I wanted to pay it forward. Instead, I am on a plane back to the US. I failed. I will have the images of that dead horse, of the beggars with unspeakable deformities that medical science could easily treat if they had access, and of a naked man with bound arms being driven down the road with a whip…I will have those images with me for the rest of my life. They are seared on my soul. And all the while…I could do nothing.
I was hoping that Africa would heal the wounds in my soul. Instead, Africa opened the wounds of my youth, my marriage, and the subsequent exploitation of my marriage therapist. Now those wounds feel open and raw, like festering, weeping sores. Africa ripped the bandage off them and exposed the infected remnants my soul. So I am going home, to heal, to try to find peace, and to figure out what to do with the last third of my life.
I will leave the work in Ethiopia to those who are stronger. I leave it to Jen, Ellen, Panos, Dawit, and all the other teachers who keep the idea going. I am sorry I wasn’t stronger or ready for the experience I was thrust into. I just wasn’t strong enough or the woman you needed me to be. It wasn’t the right time of my life. I am sorry for failing you.
Life Divided by Zero 
C’mon don’t beat yourself up, you’re not the first gringo to fail to improve life in Africa… heck we humans can barely even manage to improve our own lives, even when we are surrounded by first world wealth and good loving families… it’s not your fault the world is fucked up and I do admire you for trying but I’m not going to judge you for failing… it’d be like criticizing you for failing to stop the tides…
Robin, you aren’t a failure. You tried and for whatever reasons…all those that you stated, you were unable to stay. But you tried. So many don’t even try. This may not have been the time for you, but now that you have been exposed, who knows what the future will bring. If not a return to Africa, then perhaps some where else. Don’t beat yourself up. This was a challenge. You will learn from this, as we all attempt to do when we face challenges and we grow. I know we aren’t close cousins, but please know that I love you and I admire you for taking on this challenge. You are so much braver and stronger than I could even think of being. Coming home now does not define you. You are and always will be more. Big giant hugs to you.
Oh, Robin, I have tears in my eyes for you. If you would like to hermit and heal in Maine, you are always welcome at our home. My heart goes out to you and what you experience. How totally dreadful! To feel so totally hopeless. To be able to do nothing. My heart aches for you. We love you unconditionally and will be here for whenever you want to talk or come visit. You are not a failure. You are anything but. You have achieved so much in your life. You have made a difference in many young adults’ lives. You are an amazing woman. Heal your soul and fall in ME is gorgeous. I know it is in Seattle as well. You be where you need to be and do what you need to do for yourself. You need to be first to yourself right now. We love you…always.
Robin, I think the same thing every time I read one of your posts — You rock! Seriously. Looking forward to having you back home!
You failed? I call bullshit on that. Failing would have been to not try at all, which I would suggest is what most people would have done. Going to Africa took tremendous personal strength, which you have shown us time and again that you have. As to the experience you described in your last post, I can’t begin to explain it nor imagine what I would have done in a similar situation. I defy anyone to think rationally when faced with such a scene. So come home and heal and know that even if you didn’t change Africa, Africa certainly changed you. There is so much good in you and you can make a difference.
It will be okay my Cousin. You had it in your heart to help someone and you tried. I am so sorry it was not to be for the length of time that you had wanted. I am so glad you are coming home for your family and your safety sake. I have been reading your blogs and in the back of my mind I wanted to scream out COME BACK HOME. It seemed so dangerous, even though I know little about it other than what I have seen on line when I researched it or see on the news. Your still so brave in my eyes to have taken the chance and I admire you for that. Please try and find the positive in the experience not that you failed. I believe everything has some purpose to learn from as horrible as things can be sometimes. It seemed so depressing for you and yet you still tried over and over again to bravely find the rhyme and reasons. Love up those people in your life who love you. Hugs and more Hugs for your hurting. Come and visit me now or hike up Half Dome in the spring when it opens up again or just anytime is good to visit Yosemite and bring some friends. Welcome back home Robin.
I am so sorry you had to experience those things, and that you feel now the way that you do. Your post brought tears to my eyes – in part because I can relate to that feeling of helplessness and guilt, and of falling so far short of your own expectations. Also because as cliché as it may be, I do believe that there is a huge lesson in every heartbreaking situation, and from an outsider looking in I certainly do not believe the lesson is that you failed. Not even slightly. Things almost never turn out the way we imagine. Upon embarking on my own volunteering abroad adventure I wanted some kind of guarantee that I should go, that it would be worth it, that I would make a real difference and I would be stronger and more self-reliant and more open-minded for having done it. But I quickly realised that no matter how good my intentions may be, this year probably will not give me what I want, and it definitely won’t give me what I expect. All you can be sure of is that you took a huge leap into the unknown and you pushed yourself well beyond the comfortable bubble that most people stay inside their entire lives. Please do not underestimate your own courage, compassion and inner-strength, because it is obvious to everyone that reads this blog and I’m sure its obvious that anyone who knows you well.
Chin up,
Cat
Robin, please don’t be too hard on yourself. It was just not the right time. Take care of yourself and remember there are so many people that love you and are pulling for you. I knew you were something special the first day I met you. Take some time to heal and you will be on another adventure very soon.
Hey sis,
I am so sorry that it didn’t work out for you but am so glad that you are coming home. Just want you to know that we are proud of you and love you very much. If there is anything we can do for you just let us know.
Love you,
Bonnie
❤
This is a very moving post. I don’t quite know what to say about it. I suspect it will take time to figure it all out yourself.
You didn’t fail….you had the courage and TRIED, which is more than can be said for many of us. Welcome home.
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