"Peace Corps Moments"

I served as a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) twice - Jamaica 1985-1987 and Yemen 1988-1990, and I worked as an Associate Peace Corps Director (APCD) in Tanzania from 1999-2000. I don't remember when I first decided to join the Peace Corps, just seemed like I was destined to do it. I had a fantastic, brutal, fun, traumatizing, enlightening, depressing, life-changing, and incredible time. I was not a model volunteer, I made a lot of mistakes, and I had some successes. Like many experiences in my life, I rationalized my errors by my contributions, as if they were necessarily related (e.g., I made this big mistake, felt bad about it, worked twice as hard for three months to make up for it, etc.). To make matters worse, the wonderful people I worked with in those countries were very forgiving and willing to focus on the good things I did, making it easier for me to fail. I know I made a positive impact in all three places, and I know I made mistakes. But I am less inclined to weigh them together anymore, wishing instead that I could learn to avoid the errors, knowing that I could and should.

I had an idealized notion of the Peace Corps when I went in, and twenty-five years later, I still do. I met some incredible people during my tours - fellow volunteers, PC staff, host country nationals, etc. During those six years, I had many of what I call "Peace Corps Moments", those instances when the world was perfect, and I connected spiritually with the mission and people involved. There is no drug than can match it (good thing too, or this blog would be about other types of issues :) Here, in no particular order, are several of those moments that I will always treasure:

Jamaica - "Rapping in the Rain" While waking home from the orphanage I worked at, it began to rain as it often does in Montego Bay, by the buckets. There was no shelter, and I just pressed on. I soon caught up to a group of school boys who were drenched and enjoying themselves as they ambled home as well. One looked up at me and began to sing a song by Yellow Man I think. It was most likely the only song that kid knew that I was familiar with. He was shocked when I sang the second line with him. They all burst into laughter, and we walked the next mile or so together singing in the rain, soaked to the skin.

Yemen - "All's Well That Ends Well..." I was walking from the Eritrean refugee camp I lived in towards the local village. I noticed a group of Eritrean women circled around something speaking in an excited and nervous manner. They were lovely women, thin, dressed in colorful, flowing batiks. Huddled there in the desert landscape, it was if Seurat met Remington, had a few drinks, and worked together in perfect juxtaposition. I wish I could paint.... I walked over and discovered that they were standing around an abandoned well. At the bottom of the well, maybe eight feet down, were several burlap bags. These women had very little, and those bags had great value and utility for them. They were trying to reach down with sticks to no avail. I greeted them, looked down into the well and told them I could help. To their horror, I began to ease myself down into the well, feet on both sides of the well walls. I inched down until I reached the bottom. I braced myself and began to throw the bags up and out. I was very pleased with myself at that moment, as I was heroically saving the day. I should have realized that that sort of self aggrandizing sentiment is usually followed by a very humbling reality check, for me at least. As I reached down to grab the final bag, I heard a sickening cracking sound. Two thoughts crashed instantly into my head: What kind of well in the desert is only eight feet deep, and why didn't I just go into the village and buy a dozen burlap bags for a few dollars. As the false bottom of the the well began to give way I grabbed the bag and jumped up. I was able to hold myself against the wall, but climbing up was difficult. The women were frantic and began reaching down to save me, the hero. One grabbed my arm, but at about ninety pounds, began to slide in. The others grabbed her and began tugging. It must have been very comical to anyone watching. I knew I was in no real danger, but the look of desperation and determination on their faces was incredibly moving. They hauled me and the bag out of the well and we all collapsed in a heap. I raised my head, looked at them, smiled and said "no problem" in Arabic. I have never seen a group of women laugh that long and that hard since - well, at least sober women.

Tanzania - "School's Out" I was doing a workshop for Peace Corps Volunteers and their Host Country Counterparts at a college campus in the middle of the country. I did several sessions throughout the day, and I was very aware how boring some of it was for the volunteers - I had been through this twice before as a volunteer myself. But the counterparts were fantastic, they were eager to learn and soaked up everything I had to offer. Typically though, they asked no questions during the sessions. In my final session of the day, I worked just with the counterparts and had a great time. I had brought a few dozen assorted textbooks along, and handed them out during the session as rewards and incentives. It was as if I had dispersed treasure. That evening after dinner, the volunteers congregated and drifted off towards a makeshift disco. I stayed behind in the cafeteria talking to a few of the counterparts. Slowly, the others came over asking questions about things they had read in their books (most of the books were about education, and I was familiar with the content). They were very excited and before I knew it, there were at least twenty of them sitting in a circle discussing the concepts. I slowly moved out of the center of the circle and the discussion raged on. Men and women alike were talking, debating, and laughing as only a group of dedicated, caring professionals can. I interjected here and there, but they carried most of the evening's work. When I did think to look at my watch, it was 2am. We had outlasted the disco! I have found these experiences to be very humbling. They were simple, authentic moments with great people.