Re-entry Discombobulation

Re-entry Discombobulation
September 15, 2002

Hi everyone,

I am home again as of last night and am getting readjusted to life in the US. My most recent discovery has been that reverse culture shock becomes cumulative; it doesn't reset itself every three months! I have felt extremely disoriented since getting back. I actually flew in on Aug. 31, but spent the past week in Chicago at the office and in Indiana at the CPT full-timer's retreat. It was neat to meet all the Colombia team people, who we don't interact with much because fluent Spanish speakers are needed to stay on that project and not move around. They are also mostly younger people, as opposed to our mostly older team, so it was nice not to feel like the 'kid' for a while.

My Sundays got booked up within 24 hours of my being home. But I may be willing to take on a few more speaking engagements during the week. So far:

Th, Sept 19, Baptist women's group in Osage IA
Su, 22, Either MC Unitarians or CF Mennonites, then overnight with little brother Tom (surprise!) in Cedar Falls.
Mon, 23, display table at Wartburg. (Available for classes!)
Th-Sun 26-29, Iowa City, Su Unitarian church
Weds, Oct 2, MC NIACC classes and display table
Su-Sat, Oct 6-12, taking a trip somewhere I think having nothing to do with CPT.
Su Oct 13, Methodist Church, Des Moines


I'll try to work in as many visits as I can around that schedule. Otherwise, I plan to try piecing together a quilt, attending pottery studio, and maybe studying up on Iraq.

It looks like I'll be headed back out Oct. 22, and will not get back home again until March 10 or so this time. It'll be a longer time out than usual, but should still be okay. Lots will be happening.

Lots of people have been asking me if I still have any marks from my beating. Really, I'm okay. Think of a women's rugby match, only with a camera. Since I got to keep the camera, I consider that I won. I actually got worse injured in a nice friendly round among CPTers of a game we call 'Slaughter,' in which someone lost themselves for a moment and began twisting my arm off. Lots of ice and time to blow off steam helped out a lot though. It was a game designed to help peace activists get in touch with their inner capacity for violence, so they don't get too self-righteous, I guess. Well, yeah, we all got in touch. In this game, you have two teams with a ball and a basket. You have to get your ball into the other team's basket. Other than that, there are no rules. We played on carpet, and there were many nasty formidable cases of rug-burn. Three people pushed me out of bounds in the first two minutes of the game, but since there were no rules and my inner aggressive streak had just come out full force (meaning no way was I done with this game yet), I made a peace accord with the person who was out from the other team, and we both went back in. I then got the ball in the bucket, but people didn't think much of my attempts at civil disobedience and peacemaking. Oh well. My wrist got messed up in the second round. I was really bitter for a while but lost my anger when the guy realized later that I was carrying an ice pack around on his account and said he was sorry. It's hard to stay mad at a guy like him, especially when he's 70. Actually, he felt so bad I thought maybe I should ditch the ice so he'd feel better, but then common health sense kicked in and I was completely fine two days later.

After the retreat I came home via Madison and Dubuque. We went to support friends who were arrested for doing a public witness at a 'first-strike' nuclear transmitter during training last January. We then went to eat at an Indian restaurant and nargila parlor, only the nargila was $16 per pipe! I will wait until I get back to Hebron for my fifty-cent fix. Either that, or I start fundraising by opening my own parlor. I did however get my seminary 'fix' visiting my friend Liz at Wartburg in Dubuque. So glad I'm headed for sem after CPT. So glad I am not there just yet...but I guess I'd better start getting 'fixed' on my Hebrew and Greek when I come home on leave, or much pain and suffering lies ahead.

I bussed home on the 11th, but got to go to one memorial service in the morning at the seminary, and then one at my home church directly after getting off the bus. Then someone said there was an anti-war vigil in central park, so I went straight to that. So now there is a quite large picture of me on the front page of the paper with my head bowed over a candle, and fortunately the caption does not tell that my head is bowed simply because I didn't hear the 'amen' at the end of the prayer and was waiting for them to go on while everyone else sat up. Oops. At any rate, there was no need to tell anyone from around here that I'd made it back.

I always mean to write more in my group letter, but then forget it all when I sit down to type. In the meantime, I'll sign off for now...

Le Anne