Six days in, my roommate and budding friend, Michael, lost
his grandfather. We hadn’t even departed Addis for our training towns yet and
already someone had experienced one of those things you hope not to experience
in Peace Corps. The rest of us did what we could, refraining from internet use
during the funeral so Michael could tune in. Four days prior, Michael and I
made a dream catcher for Zack, who had suffered some of the most absurd
nightmares I’ve ever heard recounted at the hands of mefloquine. Four days
after losing his grandfather, Michael would talk me through my first “ultra
distance” spat with my fiancé, a welcome inevitability in the quest to help
each other maintain sanity throughout our separation. We were all, ostensibly,
doing what we could.
