Throw me in

It was exactly one year ago when I visited Yohei in New York for my spring break, and I remember being excited by the fact that he was now working full-time and that I would get to see his window office facing the Rockefeller Center and St. Patrick’s Cathedral. It was mid-March when Manhattan still had a biting wind and the occasional snow flurry, and as I rode from La Guardia to his apartment I looked out the taxi window and took in the dirty and sooty city that was glorified by so many. “Best city ever,” some people advertised confidently, “there is no world outside Manhattan.” I liked New York, but having flirted with it on my prior visit I no longer held romanticized views of the city. Things were different now from the last time I visited. During my previous visit my brother was still in law school, and though he was bogged down with his studies, he still found time to take me out to restaurants and listen to me prattle on about things that were of no particular importance.

My oldest brother—as I remember it—always entertained my brother and I even though we were 7 and 9 years younger. We had our ritual of watching the Simpsons every Sunday, and we would always find ourselves quoting Simpson episodes like it was some holy scripture. His toys became our toys, and although we lacked his artistic flare for Lego building, he was always kind enough not to break our lackluster blocky structures to pieces and place them back in the big box where they came from. My poor sister was even subject to ridicule from her older brother and two tiny tikes. My oldest brother in the lead, we loyally followed his chants of mock cheers as she practiced her cheerleading moves in front of the glass kitchen door—her eyes locked on her reflection—in a desperate attempt to tune out the ridicule. “W-H-S!” Yohei would lead, “We Hate Sumiko!” The acronyms for their high school became a hateful jeer that was both creative and hilarious to me at the time. Thinking back now, all my siblings were good at taking care of me without being condescending in an obvious way. Sure I was probably used by them sometimes (to persuade my parents to buy coca-cola), and maybe even guilt tripped (when I got coca-cola at restaurants while they all dutifully got water), but as a whole they always looked after me in a responsible way while insulating me from the outside world. It is no surprise, then, that whenever I see them they are always eager to share any knowledge they have based on their past experiences.

“I’ve figured out,” Yohei said with clarity, “that for me I just have to be thrown into a situation before I realize that it’s the right decision and I thrive.” My oldest brother—ever the logician—concluded that the uncertainty that we all feel before the unknowns and risky paths we face in life are best taken with a leap of faith—sometimes with an unexpected shove. I forget exactly what we were talking about—maybe it was about marriage or careers—but as we sat in his tiny and cluttered apartment at 11PM devouring the take-out Indian food that we belatedly ordered, it was hard to take him seriously. “What about planning?” I wanted to ask, “what if just being shoved into something doesn’t work out?” At that point in my life I had been plotting and planning my move after graduation, and having decided on Peace Corps I was going through withdrawal symptoms of turning down private sector jobs. Questions of whether or not it was the right career move for my future plans swirled around in my head daily, and during my shopping spree through SoHo earlier that day it hit me that in the third-world I would not get to keep my standard of living. For Yohei, the Spartan method that encouraged drastic and uncomfortable change in lifestyle worked for him, and his theory on life seemed to be justified with each success he encountered following his doctrine on life. As I dipped my Nan bread into the curry sauce I couldn’t help but think about whether his take on life planning—or lack there of—was for me. Is that all I needed, a strong jolt of electricity in my life? It’s true that I would be graduating from college and moving on to something different was a goal of mine, but I had a hard time gauging how different I wanted my life to be after college. Moving to a different state would be a start, but would moving to a third-world country seemed drastic when comparing my situation to others?

That weekend it was St. Patrick’s Day, and so we went out to drink and have some fun. Since Yohei was working everyday until at least 11PM (that’s what happens when you work for the Man), his friend Nick took me out instead and Yohei met us up 2 beers and 2 vodka gimlets later. When Yohei finally came and met up with us, I was talking to Nick’s friend who was a former PCV that was evacuated from Jordan. “Yea, it was crazy,” he said hesitantly, “the training was pretty rough so I decided not to go back after being evacuated.” Not sure what to say to his lukewarm words, I smiled and told him that was ecstatic to be going. “It’s hard to adjust to,” he said calmly swirling his drink in his hand, “very Spartan.” Hearing this I felt like it was a recap of the night before, and I came to the resolution that having already agreed to go to ROG I would be going by the Yohei theory of life—straight from Paradise to Hell. Unlike Dante’s character that traversed slowly through each circle of Hell and purgatory to reach Paradise, I would be going the other way at light speed. I would, in essence, be going from hero to zero, and the thought of that was daunting.

It is 6:30AM right now as I write this, and I have not slept well for the last week because my mind has been clouded with thoughts about why it is I’m here. I’ve jumped into this situation and I think that it is working pretty well, but part of me still finds it difficult to adjust and it is frustrating. After going through two months of grueling training and seven months at site, I feel that I should at least feel comfortable with my living situation, but that is not really the case. Is it the culture, the language, the food, the location, the weather? I can’t say for sure, but from the moment I arrived in DC for staging I knew it would be different—really different. Yohei would thrive in a situation like this, and maybe I feel that because he would thrive I should too. I don't know if I’m actually making a substantial difference, but like Yohei did in the past, I just told them to throw me in and I’m trying to make the best of it.