Thursday, September 5, 2013

So You Want to be a PCV – Reflections a Year In



5th September 2013 

Post by Lara

After a year of volunteer service, we’ve had a lot of conversations about what it is that we’re doing here.  Between our family and friends at home, our neighbors and co-workers in our community, our fellow volunteers, and ourselves, there are a lot of ideas floating around about what it means to be a Peace Corps volunteer.  Below are some of our thoughts on the matter, written primarily for anyone who is interested in or planning to join Peace Corps. 

Peace Corps will probably change you more than you change the world
Of course Peace Corps volunteers (PCVs) want to change the world—why else leave everything you’ve ever known for 2 years to go live in the developing world?  I don’t want to be a class-A cynic and tell you you’re not going to change the world, but the reality is that a lot of changes you inspire won’t happen during the 27 months you’re here, and you may never learn about them. We’ve heard countless stories about volunteers returning after 10, 20, 30 years and finding out that the students they taught are now valued members of their community and count their PCV as one motivator that got them where they are—that’s awesome!  But sometimes you don’t get to hear those stories.  Sometimes you have to trust that those stories are out there.  What you will take home with you, though, is that living and working and assimilating in a new community is going to leave you a different person.  Which leads us to the next point…

You may experience an identity crisis (or two)

Whether you’re 22 and fresh out of college or 65 and looking for an adventure post-retirement, or anywhere in between, you are an individual.  You have your own ways of defining yourself—quirks, likes, dislikes, skills, fears, hopes, etc.  Most of those things that define you, though, are not going to be the same in a foreign country.  The way our friend Krystin put it was that when someone arrives in-country for Peace Corps service, many of the things that make you you disappear, and what’s left is not a complete person.  Maybe you still have your spunk and determination, but your fashion sense and addiction to licorice can’t be sustained here.  Or maybe your pragmatic and head-on way of solving problems in the US workforce doesn’t get things done in your new environment.  Whatever it is that disappears is going to get filled in (like Kevin’s addiction to binch akara, fried bean sandwiches, taking the place of his enjoyment of fast food in the states).  And whoever you become once all those gaps get filled in is going to be, for all intents and purposes, a new person.  You will get a new name, have a new house, choose to spend your money on different things, pick your battles when it comes to disagreements with co-workers, etc.  And you might find yourself feeling disconnected with the person you used to be or who your friends and family expect you to be.  Rest assured, other PCVs are experiencing this shock also—and they’re likely the best supports you’ll have in talking through it.  

Though we’re a year from moving back to the US for good, we already expect to have a similar identity crisis when we get back.  The nice thing about 2 years in Peace Corps is it gives you ample time to figure out who you are and who you want to become, but all that time in a foreign country adapting to cultural differences and learning a new language will undoubtedly make it tough to go back.  Again, I’m quite sure most PCVs have similar experiences here and can help each other figure it out.

You may not change in the ways you expect

Before we started Peace Corps, I used to tell people, “I know it’s going to change my life, I just don’t know how.”  Well, I was right—so many things about me and my goals and my outlook on life have changed, and not necessarily in ways that I foresaw.

During our mid-service conference in July, I got into a conversation with some fellow PCVs about how we’ve changed in the last year, and one thing came up that I certainly would not have expected a year ago—living here has not made us less materialistic.  I guess I should note that in some ways it has—I am living a fulfilled existence without a dishwasher, TV, or indoor lighting.  But I also am more interested than ever before in having a smart phone, living somewhere with public Wi-Fi, owning a car, and having enough of an income to be able to make a difference in Sierra Leone in the future.  

There are other unexpected changes to be considered—some PCVs lose a lot of weight during service, while some gain.  Some develop new interests, or lose old ones.  Friendships change; people at home buy houses and have babies and go to grad school, and you’re generally doing such incredibly different things that it’s hard to draw an accurate comparison. That’s ok! PCV life is different, and if it’s what you want to do then do it.

Peace Corps is almost guaranteed to make you a more responsible person

Depending on what country you get sent to, the specifics will change—but being a PCV requires you to take personal responsibility for your health, safety, and welfare in ways that go far beyond anything I’ve experienced before.  Especially if you’re coming right out of college, it can be a shock—because universities take a lot of responsibility for their students these days—having clinics on campus, RAs who check in on you now and then, professional counselors, social workers, and friends who will get you through tough times or at least try to point you in the right direction.

Peace Corps requires a lot more from you to keep you healthy, happy, and safe.  When you’re sick, you’re expected to take your temperature and make note of your symptoms before you call the doctor.  When you’re sad, you might not have anyone nearby to say, “hey, do you want to talk about it?”—which means you may have to recognize when you need to talk to someone and be the one to seek help.  When you’re in the city and out with other volunteers, you will all be looking out for each other, but you also have your own responsibility to remember that you’re not in the US where there are cops outside of crowded night clubs and people willing to call the police if they hear a disturbance.  

Being a PCV means being willing to stand alone in many ways—you may be the only American in a 20-mile radius. You may be the only person willing to say something when project money goes missing or gets spent on something it shouldn’t.  Of course, being a married PCV is a little different in that we are often alone together, but it can still be a challenge being the only person your spouse has to vent to.  

Everyone has their own idea of what you’re here for

This is a biggie, because one thing every PCV wants is to be loved by their community and admired by those at home.  The fact is, though, some people will expect things of you that you can’t (or won’t) deliver.  One fellow PCV’s principal told her upon meeting her that her priority would be to build him an office.  I’ve had many fellow teachers approach me to help them procure a computer.  Some schools want PCVs to do so much busy work that it clouds out what we deem the important stuff—teaching kids, promoting healthy habits, and developing our community.  When it comes to host country locals misinterpreting your service, it can be totally unimportant or very detrimental to your service. When it’s the ladies in the market mistakenly thinking you’re a nurse when you’re a teacher, don’t sweat it.  When it’s your principal mistakenly thinking you’re here to raise money to pave a parking lot…you may have to bring in back-up.  Either way though, you can expect a lot of misunderstanding around what brought you here, what your goals are, and what you’re capable of.  It’s all part of the package.  

You may find you have issues with those you left behind in the states,  too—friends and family will be so proud of you; they will admire your bravery; they will applaud your selflessness, and if you’re anything like Kevin and me, you might feel uncomfortable hearing those things.  It’s kind of like not being able to see the forest for all the trees—some days I feel downright cowardly [sent the neighbor girl to the market for me because I can’t handle speaking Mende today]; some days I feel selfish [didn’t share one little crumb of the cinnamon rolls we made ourselves]; some days I feel like other people glorify what I’m doing here [getting a note that says, “Lara, I’m just amazed at all you’re accomplishing” when I just turned in my students’ grades and the average was a 55].  At the end of the day, my family and friends are wonderful to help me see the big picture—but it can be hard to hear the praises on those days when my shortcomings are taking center stage.  

It’s also hard to deal with friends and family when you think they’ve got the wrong idea of what you’re in Peace Corps for.  My best advice, with regards to every bit of encouragement and praise and misunderstanding that you receive from home, is to appreciate the positives and play down the negatives. You yourself no doubt had the wrong idea of what volunteering would be in some ways—don’t be too hard on your family and friends for making similar errors.  

Peace Corps service will be what you make of it

I mentioned in some previous posts that we have official goals we’re working toward, such as improving students’ test scores and helping teachers adopt new teaching methodologies.  We also have personal goals, like making our house a more comfortable place to live, keeping our chickens alive, learning the local languages, and catching up on pleasure reading from the last 10 years.  Being a PCV means not always having control over where you work, who you work with, where you live, and many other aspects of your life—but it also offers you a wide-open platform as far as designing and implementing projects, working on your own personal development, and defining your service in the ways you choose.  Ultimately, we are happy to be here and happy to have another year left in our service—but along the way our goals and areas of focus have shifted and morphed and changed to suit us. I think being a successful and satisfied PCV is all about making your experience, and that’s what we’re trying to do. (For more thoughts on how Peace Corps service has inspired change in me, see my post from earlier this summer titled “A Bend in the Road”)

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