Stay

Because you can't go.
Because you are a part of something.
Because you are stimulated, challenged, excited and anxious every minute of every day.
Because you already love this city as if it is your own.
Because you love your routine, your favorite restaurant, your community.
Because you may never feel this way again...

I know what I don’t know, and supposedly that’s a good thing. I know that I don’t know enough about Dreamweaver when I’ve already committed to making a webpage for Shelano. I know that I will never know how much, if at all, I am affecting those around me in a positive way, and they, me. I know that I cannot make sense of the world; I can only experience it. I know that my world-view only becomes more three-dimensional with every new element added to it, good or bad.

What do I know? I know that volunteering is always the most rewarding part of every trip I take. I know that when people ask me upon my return, “How was your trip?” they expect a one-sentence response. Not possible. I know that people would rather hear “It was great,” than “It was hard. It was tough. And yes, I did love it.” I know that saying “no” in response to “You must love Africa; you keep going back!” is confusing. I know that I am not a poet, an incredible writer, or an unbelievable teacher. And I know that my strengths only multiply and shine when I am a part of something, not doing something for myself.

Stay. That one word has been playing over and over in my mind since my first week in Kolkata. Even when I think about a week hiking n Darjeeling, a month in Sikkim, and a week or two on the beaches of south India, everything we planned and desired. Stay. Ok. I have things to do. I have barely begun, and still I know that no matter how long I stay I will still feel that way when I go. The decision has been made, the rent paid until the end of the month, I’m staying. We’re staying. That is definitely the best part of the equation. Lori wants to stay too. We didn’t talk about it, letting ourselves make up our own minds, and yet here we are beginning a new month together in a city intense and beautiful. “The city of joy” is the motto of Kolkata. I believe it. I may have volunteered many times, but each time is new, different, and altogether rewarding. I’ve never been a part of a group of women working so hard to gain pride and independence, laughing in the face of their poverty. I’ve never been on a creative team developing new products, ideas, and support for a fair-trade cause. My cup is spilling over with projects to be involved in; maybe the monsoon is coming early this year.