“Peace Corps Experience”

Arriving here in early October, Anthony and I became friends pretty much right off the bat. I mean looking back to the beginning of PC training, it was really unavoidable. Not only did we make up two thirds of the male population in our health volunteer training group, but we were also in the same small language class. Then, of course, there was another key factor that pretty much sealed the deal: our shared passion for all things nerdy. After a bit of goofing around and chatting we found out that we are both big fans of movie quoting and referencing. We love to discuss history; especially American as of late (he’s reading a Lincoln bio I suggested while I’m reading an FDR bio). We both have similar, ridiculous senses of humor. And we both share and like to discuss our similar ideas concerning social justice and development.

When I found out my site placement in November, I was excited to learn that Anth was going to be placed in a town nearby. So, naturally, in the weeks following the announcement, there was talk between us of everything from movie hang-outs to co-organizing projects together. We were absolutely stoked about getting started as official Peace Corps volunteers and being able to hang out as well. These next two years were going to be great!

On the day that all the volunteers from our area were being dropped off to site for the first time, I don’t think we were fully prepared for what we encountered. After saying our goodbyes to my friend Molly in Quissico, we drove for maybe two minutes before the view of the trees and long grass gave way to the bluest and most beautiful body of water I had ever laid my eyes on. I couldn’t help but gasp as my eyes followed the waves to the white, powdery beach and to the small number of coconut filled palm trees along the shoreline. *What could this possibly mean my site would look like?!* I wondered. As if Anthony was partially reading my mind, he turned away from the window and asked jokingly, “So… do you feel like you’re in Peace Corps yet?”

Since that day in December, Anthony’s question has become somewhat of a gag between him and me. We found out that my city has everything from standard appliances and electronics to foods that most of the other volunteers here can’t find at their own sites. “Do you feel like you’re in Peace Corps yet?” There’s a restaurant on the other side of town that has milkshakes, hamburgers, and French fries. “Do you feel like you’re in Peace Corps yet?” Maxixe is right on the beach and is within close proximity of some of South Africa’s favorite vacation destinations. “Do you feel like you’re in Peace Corps yet?” And so on… and so on…

‘Do I feel like I’m in Peace Corps yet…?’ Depending on the day, amongst some of the Inhambane volunteers, the answer to the question can become less playful smiling and more of a stern and somewhat bitter ‘no.’ Stern because their own Peace Corps expectations were not met and bitter perhaps because of a fear of other people calling them out for not living the ‘true’ Peace Corps experience. From there, in the midst of disappointed expectations, occasionally comes this next question: ‘Why exactly am I here in the first place?’

For me, there was a time that I struggled with my own ‘Peace Corps Experience’ and unmet expectations. (I blame my inherited Catholic guilt :)) ‘You mean I don’t have to worry about harsh weather conditions weighing me down, or sicknesses all the time, or even of working with very limited resources?’ Of course, after the first few weeks at site of trying to make sense of things, I came to my own somewhat more rational conclusion: maybe I am asking myself the wrong question. Maybe it should not be ‘Do I feel like I’m in Peace Corps.’ Maybe it should be something like ‘Is there a need where I am living that I can attempt to alleviate utilizing whatever talents that God gave me?’

In this light, as the focus goes from the individual volunteer to the community at large, the very ‘positives’ of the area come into question themselves. The coastal cities in our Province have lots of resources, but can the average Mozambican in Maxixe afford them? Upon exploration, one realizes that the answer is no. Does the Province really need financial help when they boast of some of the most lucrative beachside tourist businesses on this side of the continent? Here the volunteer begins to notice that these businesses are really booming. But how much really goes to the locals when the hotels, restaurants, and beach side attractions are almost exclusively owned by South African and other foreigners?

When the perspective changes, one comes to see past some of the distractions of warm weather and beaches and see the reality. There are marked fields of mines remaining from the civil war still yet to be cleaned up. The area, especially the city of Maxixe, is home to many child headed households and orphaned children living with their aunts or grandpas. HIV is a threat, yes, but there are also the less talked about issues of why children are so often found playing in and with garbage, why marital and relational dishonesty is so common, and why honesty in general is often hard to find on the streets and in the marketplace.

In the end, I think we ‘privileged’ volunteers, while initially thrown off by the degree of separation between our previous expectations and the reality in which we live in, have to ask ourselves a few things. Is the ‘Peace Corps experience’ about the volunteer or the people she serves? What are we really gaining or losing by living outside of our expectations?

We came here as individuals for a reason, each probably somewhat different that others’. But at the very least many of us came because we have faith in the idea, however unrealistic or naive it may be, that there is something that we can concretely do to make a difference in the life of at least one other person. With this is mind, wouldn’t it be better if we simply let our actions and not solely our surroundings define our two years here? I’d like to think so…