And So it Begins...

So, here I am in my small studio apartment in Yamoussoukro, Côte d’Ivoire

two and a half weeks into my 9 month Fulbright grant.

I’m sitting silently contemplating the hundreds of potential projects and hopes I have for the year (one of those projects being this blog), while simultaneously regretting my decision, thinking of my friends back home and a different version of my life where I would be teaching in my kindergarten classroom right now in New York City.

In later posts, I’ll explain the application process, how I decided to accept the grant, and all the difficulties and excitement that came with it. But for now, I’m focusing on where I am and how I’m feeling thus far, 18 days into my grant.

We (myself and the four other ETAs) arrived in Abidjan, the country’s largest, most cosmopolitan city, on September 1st. We had orientation for the first 12 days, organized by the US embassy in Abidjan – I’ll touch on this in later posts, as well. The orientation was crazy busy, but it was a great chance for us ETAs (and other English language fellows) to get to know each other before spreading out to our various placements.

By placements, I mean that each ETA is placed at a different school across CI. Abidjan is a city of 5 million, a cultural, economic, political, and social hub. But our placements this year spread out over three cities. Two ETAs are working at schools in Abidjan. One ETA is working at a school in a coastal town 30 minutes outside of Abidjan, Grand Bassam. Myself and one other ETA are working at schools in Yamoussoukro (Yakro), the country’s capital only in name, three hours north of Abidjan.

I won’t lie, I was hoping and expecting to be living in Abidjan, a vibrant city with a large expat community and many Western comforts that I am accustomed to like shopping malls, yoga classes, and smoothie bars. When we were informed of our placements a month before our start date, I was extremely upset and nervous, feelings that were only reinforced after being in Abidjan for twelve days and then moving to Yakro.

Arriving in Yakro sent a shock to my system, because while I’ve been consistently reassured that “Yamoussoukro is a true city” and “there is more to Côte d’Ivoire than Abidjan,” Yakro is probably quite similar to what my friends and family envisioned when I told them I was moving to West Africa.

Now, don’t get me wrong, this is not quite “the village.” You can get almost everything you need here in Yakro from shampoo and conditioner, to WIFI, Oreos, cleaning supplies and everything in between. It just looks different. However, as far as cities in CI go, this is about as close as one can get to being in “the village” without actually living in a village.

My apartment is nothing to call home about, but it works. Me, John (a Fulbright researcher), and Dominique are living in three studios next to each other. I have a bed, hot water, two stovetop burners, a mini fridge, and, yes, air conditioning!

This transition has been difficult, but there have been good moments, too. We’ve started to make friends with some of the neighborhood boys. The other day we played UNO with them for an hour. While I couldn’t be my usual, competitive self because my French skills are nowhere near advanced enough, it was fun, and I felt like I was starting to have a place here (even though I lost every round!)

However – again, more on this later – there are a million little things and a few bigger ones that contribute to my immense feelings of discomfort and isolation. I don’t yet feel comfortable to go anywhere by myself, so unless John and Dominique are up for an activity, I feel confined to my small apartment. My French skills, while able to get me by, are nowhere near as strong as I like, so I probably catch 25% of most of my conversations here daily.

Right now, I’m taking each day as it comes, making sure to grab opportunities and connections when I find them, but allowing myself to feel the discomfort and loneliness that I knew would be part of my experience.

So, as I sit here listening to the loud patter of the rain on our tin roof, I’m reminding myself that it’s ok to be uncomfortable, in fact I should embrace it. But, my experience will truly be what I make of it, and I have 8 ½ more months to make it great.

*This was written on September 18th, 2022*