Thursday, March 3, 1977, 5:00 pm - Day 401, Part 2

Palm wine is the sap of the palm tree, tapped at the very top. A native gourd is used by the people to make containers called boulies. A boulie is hung in the tree to collect the sap. It comes out slowly and takes a day or so to fill. When the boulie is full, they empty it into another boulie which they bring back down with them, leaving the other boulie high in the palm tree to continue collecting the sap. The bugs are then strained out and it is then ready to drink. It is sweet when fresh, and is definitely alcoholic. The sap somehow manages to ferment in just the one day. This is palm wine.

Lots of people have a cup of palm wine in the morning, which gives them energy to go out and work their farms. The palm wine is all they have until the one meal in the evening.

My cook was doing me a favor that Sunday morning, by filling up my canteen with palm wine. Sunday was the first time that he had that idea. I drank half of the canteen that morning and it added to the full feeling of my stomach.

I would also like to note that the palm wine did not taste normal to me. It seemed to be thinner than usual and also sweeter than it should have been. Lots of time in the city areas, the palm wine gets diluted with water and then sugar is added. I thought maybe that was what happened to this batch that I had. The palm wine was probably a factor, but I don't think that it was the cause of the fever and headache.

At the end of the Sunday entry, I wrote that I felt better, but would have to sit out the rest of the day. I got worse that day. I spent until about 5 pm in the hammock, just trying to maintain. I was all wrapped up warmly, my body was hot and my head was splitting apart. From the hammock, I went straight to bed, fully clothed and all wrapped up.

Keeping motionless seemed to be the only way to combat the pain that I felt from the pressure on my head. I couldn't lay on the side of my head because my temples started pounding when I tried. I couldn't sleep hardly. I remember seeing the night come, very very slowly, then finally arrive with pitch blackness. I think the fever finally broke at about 5 am, and I felt over it by the morning.

I think that Monday was a day of recovery for me. I felt completely drained, and I think I spent the day reading my Mad book.

Last night I was sure that it was this fever that was the cause of my cure. I had it figured out this way. Before, the inflow of information and ideas into my mind was good. The problem was that the outflow of information and ideas was bad. This caused my so-called shyness. I was always at a loss of something to say. Before, I thought that the input was also bad. I thought ideas just didn't come out because nothing went in. But now I say that the ideas always went in and were stored there, but I was at a loss to get them back out. I say that the fever and accompanying head pressure worked together and somehow opened up a way for me to get my thoughts back out.

This can be substantiated by looking at the days following my fever. First, there is the fact that I was humming songs that I didn't even think I knew, including some of the words. They must have been in my head already, only locked away where I couldn't reach them until now. There was the sureness that I was now able to easily learn Kono. There were all of the thoughts that I wrote about on Tuesday evening, which were set off by the book that I was reading. It's title, believe it or not, is Edge of Awareness, and is a collection of 25 essays by different authors.

There is also what went on last Tuesday night. When I told what went on Wednesday, I started out with a note that Tuesday night was both good and bad. It was a bad night in that I got very little sleep that night. It was a good night also because my mind was working hard and fast all night long. I remember getting up a few times during the night for drinks of water, and that each time was from a half awake / half asleep sort of dreaming. I remember that I was fasinated at the high caliber of my thoughts, but I can't remember what any of them were, except the last one of the night.

In my sleep, all mentally, I had finally put in order and in detail, all of the different steps and procedures involved in developing a swamp, with complete water control. The first thing Wednesday morning was to get out of bed, sit down, and write down all of the different steps. In my dreaming, I had designs figured out for the headgate, drop structures, ditches, and buns. I also went over different size plots and how many plots of each size would be needed to make one acre.

Last night was the strangest night of all. I wrote until 2:15 am this morning, and then didn't get to sleep until about 5 am. Last night my mind just wouldn't turn off. It was traveling at the speed of light. I went back over everything, over all of the thoughts that I wrote down both yesterday and today. I went over all of the facts, all of the happenings, and had myself absolutely convinced that it was all for real. That the fever did make something click in my brain. That the mind input was always there and just needed the output to be opened up. I remembered back to what I had said about "the tap was turned on and couldn't be shut off. That I would just have to wait until the tank was empty and try to use what I could." I then saw how this related to last night. The fever turned on the tap, and the ideas just started flowing out. I was at a loss to control it, but was going to great lengths to be sure that it all got down on paper, where they wouldn't be lost.

Being convinced that the change was real, I started to look into what had caused it. I decided that it had to be a combination of everything. Then I looked at the possibility that maybe there was a God after all, and that he had put a hand in it. I was very skeptical and hard to convince. I had gone to church all of my life, but could never honestly say that there was a God. I never felt that there was. I had a hearty dislike for Jesus Freaks, because of what they preached. I wasn't going to let myself say that there was a God just to ease my conscious back in church.

Going through all of this thing and considering its religious implications, I found myself talking in my mind, telling myself that "I wasn't going to pray to you, God", and then finding myself at a loss for words to continue, realizing that by saying what I just did, that I was, in fact, praying to God. Not praying, really, but talking. Going over all of this in my mind, I could see where I was.

For the first time in my life, I felt God. I knew that He was there. I couldn't see him, and never will, but he is there, a presence, that felt like the calm after the storm. Or the quiet at 4 am. You can never see these things, but you can sense them.

I was convinced that God had done it, because too much stuff was going on for it to be just a bunch of coincidences. I started thinking about what all of the implications of my feeling God, and knowing that he was there, would be. I felt that I wanted to tell the world, that I had to tell the world. I could finally see how a Jesus Freak thinks, and then I started seeing myself as a Jesus Freak. This upset me. Everybody hates Jesus Freaks, and I could see why. Your normal person wouldn't believe what he said anyway, because it just isn't possible, or so they think. I sure wouldn't believe it. Even now, I find it all very hard for me to believe.

I remembered thinking a week or two ago, about the possibility of my being something like a youth director in church, and saw that it was an impossibility because I wouldn't let myself do it, because I lacked the religious spirt and the position needed someone who could inspire the kids religiously. I thought last night that that had all changed now. I thought of the song "Give me oil in my lamp..." last night, and I figured that it would be my theme song.

I just remembered what alot of the coincidences were which, added up, convinced me that there had to be outside help.

1. The combination of three illnesses hitting me all at once.
2. The weak assumption that it was malaria, because malaria usually takes more than one day to get over.
3. The fever was on a Sunday, and it was the fever that reminded me that it was Sunday, as I had forgotten.
4. It was day #400 in Sierra Leone on the Big Wednesday.
5. It was during the time of my one year anniversary in the Peace Corps.
6. All of the good things piling up on me in one day like that.
7. The definite change in my thinking during the days following my illness.
8. (More later.)

Back when I was thinking that I had to tell the whole world, I was thinking what people's reactions would be. I thought for sure that Howard Grey, our Peace Corps director, should read all of this. His reaction would have been to send me home at once, because the Peace Corps doesn't want people who try to push their faith. I thought of my church. I have always figured that when I go back home, I will end up having to be worship leader one Sunday. Last night I figured that I would give the sermon instead.

They tell us in training that many of the people are suspicious of Peace Corps people, because they are always taking pictures and writing journals. They assume that you are writing a book to be published, which will distort things. I thought last night that all this that I wrote during these last few days would be a book complete in itself. I wanted to send this all home as soon as I could, and have everybody read it.

Well now, back to the present. I said at the beginning that today was a relapse. I am now back to my old self. I feel that I will be able to sleep sound tonight. I think that the tank is empty now, because the flow has stopped. I feel that I was suffering a serious case of overkill these last few days. I was holding it all back for so long, that the dam finally broke and everything came rushing out all at once.

I don't feel God now. I was sure, absolutely convinced, of his existance last night, but that seems so far away now. Maybe it is better this way. If I were to feel God all of the time, you would never be able to hold me down, I'd be flying so high. I wouldn't be able to concentrate on normal earthly activities. I guess He must be still there. I know what he feels like. I know how I react when I am near Him.

It is now 11:00 pm. 25 pages in 6 hours. - a more leisurely pace.