Surprise! (or not surprise). I’m coming back to the states for the holidays. I’m coming back to cuddle my little sister, drive on the right side of the road and visit meijer at 1 am. I’m coming to buy a new pair of nikes, drink slushies and make snow angels. I’ve got my little list of to dos and most of them are financially cheap and include touching the people I love.

I’m writing (for the first time in a long time I know, I know) to talk about what it feels like to come home. I’m grateful that I was able to come home about a year and a half ago to celebrate my baby bro and his super cool wife on their wedding day (I was the best woman, cool right?). During that visit, I experienced a phenomenon that I’ve heard other volunteers describe. The phenomenon that when we come home, sometimes it’s hard for people to know… what to… do with us I guess. How to ask us questions, what to ask, how to talk about issues, how to ask if the thousands of dollars of fireworks affect our hearts after our experiences in Zambia, how to interact with us, how to talk with us about Trump, how to bring up family events that happened while we are away, just what to do with us in general. Our presence might make some uncomfortable, understandably. We’re going through some big life changes and we make ourselves uncomfortable sometimes too. Perhaps a more evident and uncomfortable feeling many of us experience, is the feeling that we have when we want to share about our new lives but are nervous, don’t know how or don’t feel like the interest of hearing about it is there. So here are a few of my pointers on how to make my trip back home a little more comfortable for me (and hopefully for you!) and how to make me feel even more love during my trip home.

DO:

• Tell me that you don’t know what to ask (and I will figure something out)
• Ask me about the kids that I love
  

  Oscar

• Ask me about the differences between my life in the village and in the big city (where I now live)
• Ask me about what it’s like to miss out big events like weddings, funerals and sports games
• Hug me
• Ask me about my Zambian friends, brothers, sisters, aunties, uncles, mentors, supervisors, grandma’s and grandpa’s and how they’ve facilitated my growth, comforted me and gave Zambia meaning to me.
• Ask me about my volunteer family
• Ask me about my new job as the Peace Corps Volunteer Leader
• Ask me about Zambian hospitality
• Ask me about my Zambian family
• Ask me about my pupils
• Touch my face
• Ask me what it’s like living abroad with Trump as president
• Ask me what it was like living abroad with Obama as president
• Ask me to see some pictures
• Ask me to watch some videos
  

  Our crew

• Ask me to teach you some Bemba (the local language I used and one of the 72 Zambian languages)
• Ask me about any strange phrase I’m using (it might be a new habit. Would love to explain how English is often used differently
• Ask me about my pets
• Ask me about my house
• Tell me you don’t understand something that I’m saying
• Ask me about Oscar
• Ask me how many Mangos I’ve eaten (but don’t expect a real answer)
• Kiss my cheeks
• Ask my about my crew(s)
• Ask me about my daily life
• Ask me about the difference between my daily life in the village and my daily life in the city (things like cooking, bathing, using the bathroom, etc.)
• Ask me how my body is adjusting to the Michigan cold (and I will answer how it is not)
• Ask me about swimming in the lake with my babies
• Ask me about my newly found love for African music and dancing to it
• Ask me to dance for you (play a little music and I would love to)
• Talk about your experiences in travel as your personal experiences separate and different than mine

Please try not to: 

• Ask me “how is Africa?”
• Ask me about seeing lions, tigers and elephants in my backyard
• Ask me a question if you aren’t interested in hearing my answer
• Ignore the fact that I’ve been away for the past two plus years
• Compare my experience to your trip abroad (or to anything really, and I promise to try not to compare mine to yours either)

I’m going to be vulnerable and explain that my life here is well… my life here. That to me means that I hold my experiences here deep, deep inside my heart. They are difficult to explain and sharing opens up that space for either validation in them or disappointment if I’m sharing with someone who seemingly doesn’t care. That sharing my life here feels risky sometimes because of that. So I am asking for your patience and grace while I learn how to share my life here and yet still protect it deep inside my heart, which feels like the safest and most appropriate place for it sometimes. Because it is so difficult to explain the value that I’ve found in my experiences here. I think that all of this is okay and I hope my loved ones and I are open to the journey of growing together in sharing our experiences.

I hope that me sharing these feelings hasn’t intimidated you into interacting or not with me during my visit home. I hope you will still feel open to me and share your love with me as you know I want to share my love with you. Even with the dos and don’ts that I’ve shared, I can feel y’alls hearts and will always follow that instinct. The instinct that tells me that your love will be enough for me. I hope that we can all be brave enough to be vulnerable in sharing our lives no matter how deep they might be being held at the moment. Thank you for your patience and grace as I step into my new unknown that I still call a home. See y’all on December 8th. Enjoy the front row seat to my reverse culture shock show…

Much love always.