How Things Change

I did not get any of the grants I was hoping for for this summer. My plans to conduct original research in Uganda or Kenya have been sidelined. I don't know where to get funding.

The last rejection letter from the last grant cemented the ever looming truth that I was not going to be in Sub Saharan Africa this year. I had worked up an academic fluency in development, kept abreast of the latest trends and news, and had crafted a BA thesis project that was going to be my bread and butter for the next year. I had done all this in preperation, in want, of going to Africa this summer. I have worked harder on this, and longer on this, and have read more books on this than I have for any other task in my life. Eleven days ago I learned that these dreams were not going to come to fruition however. I have been coming to terms with that.

I got very used to the idea that I was going to spend an un-academic summer in Chicago. I wanted to work retail. I wanted to help my parents out by generating my own spending money. I wanted simple things that a twenty year old might want - like new stereo speakers and summer evenings with friends and beer. I was comfortable with being twenty and in college, and for the first time in a year I was not worried about a plan and pressures. I was not so worried that I could not sleep, or could not breath. For ten days I ran around with friends and explored new and old parts of Chicago and myself. It was glorious.

I have been using the past tense because things changed again today. I recieved an email from a friend of a friend. His father is a big-wig and works in development. He may not be able to get me to Africa, but he can definitely set me up with an agricultural NGO in India.

INDIA?! This email came out of the blue. I was sitting with a girl I am dating. I was doing work. I was writing creatively. I read an inocuous email. I was floored.

I have changed my life's plans at least four times in the last month. I decided that I do not want to go to the Kennedy School's MPA/ID program for grad school four weeks ago. I came to terms that I failed to get to Africa. I let go and decided to have a pure good time without worry for the first time in a year. This is huge for me! Now these preparations, these sidewalks I have laid, are being torn up again. I wasn't going to think about development - at least in a professional sense - for months. Those were my plans, and they seemed sweet and cool - like ice and sugar.

India. India? India. I can't say no. I love to travel too much. I need to go now that I have the opportunity. My largest modus so far as been to accrue new experiences. How better to do that than to take advantage of possibly the greatest opportunity of my life? I must. The people I will meet; the things I will see, touch, and eat; can you imagine? I need to say yes. But, I was just getting used to the new sidewalks. Worn paths were just starting to form as I flexed my legs and ran them down - they were just becoming comfortable. Oh well.

I just hope I don't start to worry again. I am tiered of being afraid. It felt like there were too many pressures on me before I found out that I was not going to Africa and Harvard. They weighed down on me like washing machines on my shoulders - looming heavy I could struggled to support them and contain them. If I didn't it seemed the multitudes would unleash an uncomfortable wetness. So it felt like a release when I failed.

I don't know what's next. I will write this man back. I do not know if anything will materialize, but I hope with confidence that something will. I will still write my BA thesis on African agriculture and the political economy there in. I'll let you know what comes.