To pick up where I left off….

While I sobbed at the hotel bar, I tried to get to the root of exactly what was bothering me. All of this was expected. The English Language Fellows program (the program that brought me here) is built for developing countries. That means that of the 170 fellows, everyone is in a situation more or less like mine in other parts of the world. I knew it would be like this, so why was I so distraught about it?

When I pulled apart my feelings, I realized that my sadness was rooted in the fact that I had hoped to see some friends and family visiting me here, and that was not likely to happen. It costs a lot of money to fly to this continent, and for people looking for a non-US vacation, there are multiple other countries right in the stopover flight path that are better prepared to show tourists a great time (I’m mainly looking at you, France….). My tears were less about the present than about my hopes for the next year of my life. And it felt like a bit of a gut punch.

But like most gut-punch feelings, they don’t last forever. Once I understood the root of my sadness, I gave myself a virtual slap across the face and reminded myself that I could do this, even if I had no visitors (or, as Tim would say, I get to do this). I also reminded myself, as I used to tell my colleagues at Milton Elementary, “I am a cockroach! I cannot be crushed!” Cockroach mode activated.

For the next couple of days, we had our orientation with the US Department of State, and things improved significantly. Being busy is the perfect solution to melancholy. I visited the campus where I will teach and met my new colleagues. Things started to make sense for me, and I began to see my future here.

Then, I met the security officer from the US Embassy, who was charged with giving us a security briefing about the country. The guy giving the briefing was exactly the kind of guy you would expect to be giving a security briefing. Close your eyes and form a mental picture. You know the type…. (macho, manly, mansplainer, etc)

It turns out there is no significant crime here, aside from typical small-time city-type stuff (pickpockets, stolen phones, etc.). It is a very safe place to live. Even given this information, he was still very dismissive of the place, which I found curious. He has lived here for 4 years. After the briefing, he asked if we had any questions. My only question was, “What do you do for fun in Abidjan?” His response? “There is nothing to do in Abidjan.”

Deep breath, Teleen. Cockroach mode engaged.

So basically, I have one year to prove this asshat wrong.