100 Days

I didn’t feel sad or happy. I didn’t feel proud or ashamed. I only felt that in spite of all the things I’d done wrong, in getting myself here, I’d done right.

This quote is from a book I read recently, Wild, and it really spoke to me. I often find myself thinking about it during random moments, like when I’m riding on a bus thru the mountains, when I’m sitting on my porch absentmindedly reading a book, or when I’m talking to my neighbors about the weather.

To me, it means that every mistake I’ve made and every success I’ve had led me to this job, this country and this life. I am so incredibly happy and fulfilled being in this country. Being here feels like where I’m supposed to be. This is a true milestone for me. For the last few weeks I have questioned my purpose here, but the last few days have reminded me why I’m here and why I love this place.

As of today, I’ve been in Comoros for 100 days. It’s hard to really convey how monumental, yet how minuscule that feels. I know I have many, many more days ahead of me. I’ll be here for 2 whole years after all, but 100 days feels like a cause for a celebration to me. By celebration, I mean I will treat myself to a cold Coca-Cola from my local duka (shop) and allow myself to indulge in some of my coveted peanut butter my mom sent me.

These 100 Days have allowed me to learn how to navigate my way around my village, they have reminded me that there is always more room in a taxi even if there’s already 6 people inside and given me the opportunity to make new Comorian and fellow PCV friends. These 100 days have shown me that I am stronger than I think, that there is good in every day even days that feel like “the worst day ever,” and that ndjema (I’m fine) or salama (I am in peace) can get you through most conversations here.

These 100 days have been spent reading on my porch, swimming in the Indian Ocean or taking some great naps under my mosquito net. These 100 days have been filled with unbelievable sunsets, a looooot of samahani, ndgelewa (sorry I don’t understand), and dancing with kokos (grandmas) at mashuhulis (Comorian weddings). These 100 days have been the most challenging, yet rewarding of my entire life.

I want you, my family and friends, to know that, as the quote says, I’m not happy or sad, I’m not proud or ashamed, but I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be and that is enough for me.