From the Archives is an ongoing series where Sticky Rice Staff Historian Mack Devoto, takes a deep dive into the archives of Sticky Rice. We’ll travel all the way back to 1966, as well as into the more recent past, to see how life for PCVs in Thailand has both changed … and stayed the same.
Mack Devoto, 135 YinD
Returning
by Anonymous, Sticky Rice May 1998
Soon …
Soon you’ll be landing in the land of your birth.
Soon you’ll be laughing in the joy that is your friends.
Soon you’ll be talking, drinking, and telling stories of a far off land.
No more annoying questions.
No more stares of shock or hate.
No more drunks.
No more people thinking you are a bank.
No more outrageous gossip.
No more secrets and no more lies as a way of life.
Soon you’ll be living in truth.
Soon you will be able to live in anonymity.
Soon you’ll be driving every day.
Soon you’ll be enjoying sports like you never have.
Soon you’ll play football with friends and rivals in the cool mornings in the wet grass with sunshine beaming down on your smiling face.
Soon you’ll be … not home,
not home anymore. Just a more familiar place.
Soon your heart will be very confused.
Where is home now? Home is where the heart is.
But where is your heart?
Soon you’ll be returning, but
Soon you’ll realize it’s not you anymore.
You’ve not returned, just changed places.
Soon you’ll be returning.
And soon you’ll be missing and then soon you may be returning again.
You’ll always be returning … soon.
* * *
This is a poem that was written in the May 1998 published Sticky Rice magazine about the impending completion of service for the cohort of that year. I found this particular piece to be, perhaps, a bit insightful for our freshly appointed RPCVS (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers) of Groups 133 and 134. If you are still reading, that is … Or, as it is for me, this poem is an attempt to prepare myself mentally for the drastic shift my life will be taking in a year.
Although my completion of service is still a year away, it is still inconceivable to me that a year has gone by. Already I find myself grieving my experience here, prematurely. It is an innate response that I tend to have, despite trying to actively live in the moment. Something that has burdened me almost all my life. The instant romanticization of memories, even if they just happened recently, lands me in a consistent state of happiness and grief. A tough spot to be living in, an almost sort of melancholic purgatory.
In the first few months of being at my permanent site, I had a tough time adjusting. There were days I would sink into my mind, daydreaming of my life ‘back home’. Thinking of all of my friends and family I missed, reminiscing on times when I felt comfortable and content, when I had easy access to all of the things that made me happy. I didn’t realize that I had lost sight of the importance of being comfortable and happy with myself. I would find easy distractions and try to make things here seem more ‘home-like’ for me. Watching my favorite shows, purchasing a small oven, and setting up the wall of my favorite art pieces from home in my room, as I have in every room I have lived in. While these things made me happy and made this house in rural Thailand feel more familiar, I still struggled being truly alone for the first time in years. ‘Home is where the heart is’ started to feel more like, home is where comfort is. I was equating my life back in the States as happiness, but it was just comfort and ease. Sure, I was happy enough, but if I looked hard at myself I would have been able to decipher that there was a much, much bigger piece missing.
After a few more months at site, maybe around months six through nine, a big shift took place in my life. After months of sitting with myself in a very raw, vulnerable sense, I came to realize that there was more work here that had to be done. The following months ignited an introspective journey that has completely changed my experience as a volunteer, and my outlook on life in general. I can’t tell you all the exact moment when my mind shifted, but one month I just felt … young. Now I’m twenty-three… not saying that I’m OLD, but I felt my subconscious like a huge, heavy weight on my perception of my time here, making me feel old and weary. When I finally tapped back into my youthfulness, it was like a part of me had been asleep, just waiting for me to be ready, to reemerge.
I firmly believe that my students had a lot to do with this. Being around them and their energy, their laughter, their smiles, reminded me that I have that inside of me as well. Their willingness to learn and to communicate with me – despite so many barriers – inspired me. This place, which used to intimidate me, and make me feel uncomfortable and lonely, has transformed into somewhere that is a part of my core being. Once I was able to find my heart again, within myself, I realized that home would always be with me, wherever I end up.
One of the lines that stands out to me the most in this poem is “Soon you’ll be … not home, / not home anymore. Just a more familiar place”. This idea has always crippled me. I can feel within myself that I have changed. Every part of me has been stripped away and regrown. I am made up of everything before Thailand, but now Thailand is a tremendous part of me. I can’t fathom how different the states will appear to this new version of myself, and I worry. I worry often. I worry that my family won’t see how I have changed internally. I worry that my friends won’t understand my new perspective on life and individuality. I worry that I will revert back to the easiness and comfort of my life before Thailand, slowly molding me back into who I was before this experience. I worry that my future romantic prospects won’t be able to conceptualize the importance of a mere two years of my life and how they have shaped me into this beautiful and bold version of myself. “Soon you’ll be returning, but / Soon you’ll realize it’s not you anymore. / You’ve not returned, just changed places”. And maybe … that is all okay?
Maybe we don’t need to return. Maybe there is no such thing as a true “home”, at least maybe not to me. Maybe I am starting to come to terms with the idea that “home” is a constantly fluctuating concept for me. “Soon you’ll be returning. / And soon you’ll be missing and then soon you may be returning again. / You’ll always be returning … soon”.
While daunting, these lines serve as a reminder that life is repetitive in the sense that people tend to find their way back to where they are meant to be and to let life take the reins sometimes. I will approach my next year of service with an open heart and an open mind. I refuse to say goodbye or to see this year as an epilogue in any way but as the beginning of my journey through becoming the full, best version of myself. I am growing up, and I am proud of who I am becoming, and a large part of this can be attributed to what my community has taught and given me throughout my service. I will forever find myself ‘returning’ here, just as I find myself ‘returning’ back to the States. No matter where I am, I think of all the places and people who have contributed to parts of me, like a mismatched quilt of memories and love stitch me together. Home is where the heart is, and my heart belongs to me, for the first time in years, and I intend to keep it that way.
Sticky Rice 
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