A question of call....

While a large part of my calling to Northern Ireland, which I now will refer to as Nireland by suggestion of a wonderful YAV in the Philippines, was the intentional community established by living with the other YAVs here, ironically, I find myself home alone for atleast 4 hours a day. I have struggled with the idea of being in Kenya; if I can handle this solitude, would being alone in a village in Kenya for the year really have been unbearable? While I know there is purpose for me being here, sometimes my passion for Africa overtakes me and I question the road that lead me here.

Solitude is not something I long for, and if anything, something I seek to avoid. Some days I am alone longer than others. For example, this afternoon and all evening minus a brief dinner with Lauren, have been spent in solitude. Living in dorms and a pretty friendly apartment complex with great roommates, plus hang out time in the solarium has kept me from spending much time alone in the past 4 years. Prior to college, having 6 in the family left very little truely alone time. It is not to say that I am uncomfortable with being alone, I don't find the house to be creepy like Alison and Lauren do..., the time spent outside of work is just not as I anticipated. The idea of living with YAVs left me expecting social support just outside my door and emotional support at all hours of the day. While my schedule has been slow to fill and the girls have been busier than they would like, the opposite has been true. I have spent much time writing letters, cleaning (surprising, I know!), showing repeatedly to fill the time, and wondering if I am really going to be useful here.

In the same way, reading other YAVs blogs (they are amazing, if you're up for some reading just ask...) has left me with a sense of bore when evaluating my life here in Belfast. While there is a need here that is hard to grasp, there is no struggle such as trying to pee between two boards or riding a picnic-table-on-rails kinda transportation. When I first found out I would be going to Belfast, the same emotion overcame me- a lack of adventure, a lack of 3rd world unknown. Nireland is hardly a hardship and I have already come to find that 54 pounds a week is not all that small. I have quickly grown accustomed to looking the correct way when crossing the street or pulling the light string when I walk into the loo. As we waited to board the flight to Chicago, Jamie, Nora, Dave, and I sat thinking about what we had coming to us. The poking fun started about having internet in my house (yes, I'm sitting at my dining room table), a washing machine, and my own laptop. While I learned to counter back that my struggles would be different, that my youth would drain me emotionally and throw rocks at me like they had a previous volunteer, inside I really questioned the experience I was about to have. Don't get me wrong, I am very thankful to have the internet to keep in touch so freely, and the telly to keep up the habit of watching Sex and the City. But I wonder when my challenge will come. While the division of Protestant and Catholic neighborhoods is uncomprehensible, it can't begin to compare to the extreme poverty of India or the traffic on the roof in Peru (accoring to Kori, haha).

Or can it?