Thursday, June 7, 2018

Real Talk

“My country, right or wrong: if right, to be kept right; and if wrong, to be set right.”

        -Carl Schurz, 1872
Okay, let's be serious for a minute (admittedly something I'm not very good at). Most of the people leaving everything behind to volunteer in a third world country for two years aren't the same people shouting to build a wall to keep out immigrants from "sh*thole countries." Most are idealistic and genuinely hoping to make a difference.
Some of you are scoffing already, I can tell. 

I feel this way about my country. I may not agree with everything that happens (translation: I definitely don't agree with everything going on) but I still have hope that America can do better; can be better. It's my job, wherever I happen to be, to try to make that happen. 

I feel the same way about Peace Corps.

I am so proud to be a part of Peace Corps. It has been my privilege and my honor for the past two years. I love where I've served: I love my village, I love my region, and I love this country. Just like anywhere else in this world, the people are both wonderful and awful, and I haven't loved every moment of it, but taking this leap into the unknown was one of the best decisions I have ever made. That being said, I'm not blinded by the dazzle of JFK's speeches and Peace Corps glow. If things aren't right, I want to help set them right. I want this agency to be everything it was meant to be.

When I left, my dad gave me the cruelest and yet the most helpful advice: 

"Remember: you are not going to save the world." 


I knew it leaving, and I have had it hammered into me every day here. It was another thing that set me apart from my group. For all our talk of "sustainability" I knew that my real impact would probably be limited to the two years I was here, with -- if I was really good and really lucky -- one or two people really getting something valuable from me, some memory or skill that they would keep long after I was gone. Basically the same effect I think I would have living anywhere for two years. I didn't change the world in the last two years living in New Hampshire, so why would it suddenly be different in Guyana?

In all of those phone interviews before I left, I lied: I didn't think I would make some huge difference. I don't have the messiah complex necessary to think I'm going to drag some third-world country into the first-world, solve all of their problems, all in two years. Are you kidding me? What I really was hoping for was to learn something for myself. Yeah, maybe that's selfish, but that's who I am. At least now when people call me selfish I can say "I was a Peace Corps Volunteer" and it will almost be like a defense.

I did. I learned exactly how much I will stand for, and what choices I could live with. They always tell you to pick your battles, but how can you do that when everything seems to be a battle? We're not supposed to be publicly negative; I've been warned about it more than once. The problem with that is that at thirty-one I'm not willing to fake it very convincingly anymore. These past ten months have been rough. It's been so bad at points that I've been expecting a total breakdown at any moment. People describe it as being at a cliff's edge. I got carried to that edge and tossed off before I even realized I was running out of ground. 

The right thing to do isn't always the right thing for you.

I've had to ask myself way too many times "Is this something I'm willing to get sent home for?" I know it's the right thing to do. I've got a pretty decent moral compass when it comes to big things. The problem is the right thing isn't always in your best interest. I'll give you an example. It's actually one the staff teaches you during training:

A friend in your village comes to your house, telling you she was beaten. What do you do?

The official rule is really really hard for Peace Corps Volunteers to handle. Remember, we're all there because we want to help people. This seems like a clear case of someone to help, right? What would be the right thing to do?
The official answer is nothing. For your own safety. If that girl even talks to you about it, you will have to be moved or sent home. For your own safety. 
I can't stress that enough. There's a good reason they have that policy'; If you help her, you're putting yourself at risk. Whoever beat that girl might come after you in retaliation. You can't stay there anymore.
So... do you help her?

It gets harder when it's not such a clear case. The truth about Peace Corps Guyana is 

Keep your head down, or they will cut it off.

Like I said in a previous post, I'm the chairperson for the Volunteer Advisory Committee. Our official tagline is

The Peace Corps Guyana Volunteer Advisory Council (VAC) shall be the formal representational body for the Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) in Guyana. VAC acts as facilitators and mediators between all PCVs in-country and PC staff by assisting in the communication of current issues, concerns and suggestions.

I've done that. During my two years on that committee, I've brought up issues that currently serving volunteers have. As the only representative for the Environmental cohort, and the only Region Nine representative, and the only hinterland representative, I fought tooth and nail not to be excluded from discussions about policy. When my volunteers were being neglected to the point of emergency I would not let the issue go. I brought it up at every single meeting. Staff was sick of hearing it. I was sick of talking about it. As long as nothing was changing, it was my job to keep it on the agenda. And I was definitely punished for it.
Want an example?
Medical care in Region Nine. We're so far out in the middle of nowhere that the PCMOs (the Peace Corps Medical Officers; the staff in charge of our medical care) can't reach us, and we are anywhere from three to eighteen hours away from the nearest hospital, depending on the roads. We have health centres within an hour (under the best conditions) from each site, but those rarely handle more than fevers or pre-natal care. The hospital is where major problems are always evacuated to. The hospital often doesn't even have soap in the bathrooms or un-expired medications on-hand. I once accompanied a student there and five doctors and nurses walked by as she had a bad reaction to medications in the hallway. This is a major concern, obviously, for anyone who has to rely on this facility. I have been told every time to either drop it, or every volunteer in the region would get yanked. Am I willing to be sent home for this? Am I willing to die for this? Do I maybe get everyone pulled from their hard work in their villages? Or do I let it go and maybe have one of them maimed or killed because I didn't demand that Peace Corps put proper measures in place for the volunteers they send here?

The next group arrives in country on Tuesday. If Peace Corps has their way, I'll be getting sent home with "interrupted service" in July. If I have mine, I'll be here until my cohort closes out in November. Either way, I won't get a chance to get to know you very well, and I'm truly sorry for that. You are about to be thrown into something huge. I know you're all freaking out about what to pack right now, but really that's going to be the least of your worries. 

You're about to find out who you are. I just hope it's someone you can live with.

2 comments:

  1. Wow. Powerful and moving... I don't suspect that anybody that knows you even a little would expect anything from you but what you described here. You certainly are no quitter!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Well said my lovely niece.

    Love You,
    Aunt Debbie

    ReplyDelete