A discovery

Peace Corps Volunteers do this really weird thing every time they meet for the first time. I remember the first time I encountered this kind of interaction was when I was at Staging (pre-training orientation) in Philadelphia prior to flying to South Africa.

I remember that day like it was yesterday… I left Houston early in the morning and arrived in Philadelphia still a little shaken and dazed from the combination of sadness, anxiety and lack of sleep from the night before. I somehow gathered my two checked bags, added them to my stack of carry-on luggage and got on a taxi. There, I encountered my first fellow trainees. They were nice, I thought. We talked about how we got to this point and how we felt about South Africa. It was an easy conversation and felt nice actually knowing someone else that had been crazy enough to try this out as well. We got to the hotel, checked in, found some other trainees and decided to go to lunch. At lunch the conversation focused on packing, leaving home, and the voodoo witch doctors that we feared lay ahead in South Africa. We got back to the hotel right before our orientation session was about to begin.

Orientation was overwhelming. I don’t understand why Peace Corps does this orientation in-country. I figure it is a last-ditch effort for Peace Corps to weed out those that are truly skittish about service and maybe save some money on the international flight if someone does bow out. A couple of times I decided that I was in way over my head and, just to make things worse, had packed completely inappropriately. It was not a fun feeling.

However, after orientation was over things got worse. I officially met my roommate for the night in our shared hotel room after orientation and immediately disliked her (I can say this now because I’ve decided her feistiness is fun, not annoying like I thought at first). However, since my feelings towards people when I first meet them are either dislike or fear, I decided to give her more time before making my final decision.

So awhile later, everyone met up for dinner. We walked the streets of downtown Philadelphia until we saw a sign that said “Free Wine” and like moths to a flame, we entered. The restaurant wasn’t bad and the wine was actually pretty tasty. We divided up into four-person tables and ordered food and chatted. It took less than twenty minutes to realize that this was going to be an awful dinner. It began innocently enough, why did you want to join PC? What are you expecting from South Africa? What do you want your assignment to be? Which were all fair enough, until the conversation stopped being a…conversation, and turned into a formal interview. Suddenly, each person was expected to explain (in detail) each and every professional, academic, and volunteer experience they had before this moment. Then that turned into trying to “one-up” each other with knowledge about South Africa and/or HIV.

I tried to change the subject to something a little more light (i.e, not something that made me want to gorge my eyes out) and asked if anyone planned to visit home during their stay in South Africa. Suddenly, I transformed from the quiet, uninterested one to Enemy. Each person at my table looked at me with disgust and literally turned their noses up at the very idea that our two years of servitude be interrupted for a foray back to America. How dare the thought!

After an hour or so of glares, I found a way to escape and as soon as I got back to my hotel, called my parents and boyfriend and told them I was coming home. The feeling subsided as I explained what happened and my boyfriend gave me the sound advice of “screw them.” Thanks, babe.

Now, a couple of months later, I still find myself in said conversations when I encounter new PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers). It’s agonizing. I don’t understand why my fellows in peace need to be so damn uppity. Was that a secret requirement that I was not aware of?

Sometimes I can understand how this can happen. I know that in Houston I liked to tell people that I was going to join the Peace Corps. It got me out of a early termination fee from my cell phone company and got me out of one (ok, two) traffic tickets the month before I was scheduled to leave. I enjoyed the look that people gave me when I told them that I was moving to Africa. It sounded cool. And, people were always telling me how “selfless” and “brave” I was. I tried not to let it go to my head, but I see now how it affected others.

Perhaps my feelings towards the whole thing came because sometimes I really don’t know how I became qualified to be here. Sure, I’m adaptable and well-traveled; I’m moderately friendly and patient; and, which is probably most important to qualify for service, I’m pretty healthy. But surely there should be more to being a Peace Corps volunteer than that, right? Well, whatever it is, I really doubt I have it.

So if near dimwits like me can get into Peace Corps, why try so hard to prove that you have the brains to get in? It’s not that hard. Most things that I’m going over with the people I encounter so far have been more along the lines of “No, you shouldn’t eat food off the floor,” and less along the lines of Astrophysics. There’s this one in particular volunteer that shall remain nameless that came to training and was always trying to tell us the “right” way to do things: go with this cell phone company, do this on kumbis (public taxis), don’t eat that. However, now said volunteer, unfortunately, lives by me and makes very public proclamations about how he’s never at the schools he’s assigned to or even in his village. And, I bet he was one of those volunteers that sat at staging trying to prove that he was better/more qualified than any one else. Puke on him. At least I make an effort of going to work even if it usually only consists of explaining the diet of Americans or the fact that America is not on the African continent.

So where am I going with all this? I’m not quite sure. But, thinking about all this makes me wonder if I enjoy being with my South African or American colleagues more. Sure, it’s nice to not be berated for speaking English when I’m around Americans, but there’s a since of enjoyment/fulfillment I get from explaining things that I consider simple but some haven’t ever considered or been made aware of.

And, come’on, it’s kind of funny that the only time I’ve ever really, really considered going home was when I wasn’t even around any South Africans or not even in South Africa! Now, that really says something, right? It puts my frequent rants about South Africa in perspective and makes me think that maybe it’s not as bad as I think.

Hey, maybe I can do this! Hm, who would have thought? Ha