Class Notes Winter 2009
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LIVING IN THE NOW
Tears streamed down my face as I sat under the baobab tree. I had finally lost control of my emotions. All I wanted to do was to turn the clock back—just three hours. Perhaps I could have been there to tell her “No!”’ in local language and keep her out of harm’s way. Mero, the sparkling two-year-old, was just being a kid, bouncing around, playing. But often she ran too close to the cooling breakfast porridge set on the ground outside the kitchen. And that day, one of my biggest fears here became a reality: Mero fell into the steaming porridge, and her back, legs, and genital area were severely burned.
I heard her scream. It was different from the “I want attention” cry. As soon as I heard it, I ran and noted the frantic footsteps of the women in my host family. We filled a bucket with cold water and plopped Mero in, making sure all affected areas were covered. After a few minutes, I went with her grandmother—my host mother—to the local clinic. After waiting two hours to be seen by a nurse, Mero received an injection of antibiotics, and her wounds were cleaned. As I held her smaller-than-average legs down and the nurse punctured her blisters to let them drain, she screamed, and the cries continued as the freshly punctured skin was brazenly peeled away.
To my host mother the nurse said in Mandinka, “A be kumboo la” (“She is crying”). The nurse then turned to me and said in English, “You are crying.” Quickly, I looked away, not out of embarrassment, but anger. “How could the nurse be so insensitive?” I thought. Soon, however, my host mother responded, calmly, in Mandinka, “Yes, she’s crying because she loves Mero as if she were her own daughter.”
As a Peace Corps volunteer, you learn quickly to adjust, adapt, and grow a thick skin. Then again, sometimes it seems you just can’t have one that’s thick enough. Since February 2007, I have been living and serving in The Gambia, West Africa, as a Peace Corps health and community development volunteer. During the first 10 weeks, I was involved in an intensive language, technical, and culture-based training program with 20 others of different skill sets and from various parts of the United States. After passing a language test, I was officially sworn in as a Peace Corps volunteer April 13, 2007.
As with any big transition, just like my first semester at Lafayette, you experience a wealth of emotions. Initially, after flying into Banjul International Airport, I was in a state of shock, and with that came insomnia. In training village, I was challenged to adjust to cultural norms and develop survival skills: carrying a 20-liter jug filled with water on my head; sweating even though the only energy I’m exerting is that of breathing; and eating with my hand (never the wrong one, always the right one). After my first night, with sleep interrupted by braying donkeys and crowing roosters, I proceeded to my backyard to use the pit latrine, and a swarm of flies flew up to greet me as I lifted its cover. I screamed out loud and asked myself, “What the hell am I doing here?” After about 24 hours, I realized I was no longer shell-shocked, but instead ready to turn my dream into reality. I knew it’d be tough—full of ups and downs, hope, dismay, joy, sadness, frustration, and perhaps even satisfaction. But I was ready to dig in and explore.
I live in a village of 1,200 people in a large compound that houses at least 30 people on a daily basis, with others filtering in and out throughout the growing seasons and school year. These people quickly became my family, introducing me to key members of the community. They welcomed me and accepted me as if I had always been a part of their lives.
When I applied to Peace Corps, my expectations were almost non-existent. I didn’t want to “save the world,” for I knew I couldn’t. Instead, I decided to focus on forming relationships and rapports with those who wanted to do the same with me. This “philosophy” was something invaluable I’d learned throughout my life—slowly gain acceptance and you will build strong relationships. My friendships with many of the international students at Lafayette and my multiple collegiate study-abroad experiences helped me to realize this approach was also to be a key component of my “success” here in West Africa. I was aware that acceptance by my host family and community must first be gained. Once that is achieved, one is better able to earn respect and make an impact.
I am trained in promoting behavioral change in regard to health practices; individual and group empowerment; and micro-enterprise development. My assigned counterpart is a community health nurse posted by The Gambia’s Department of State for Health. We work at weekly clinics, monitoring the weight, immunization schedules and records, and general wellbeing of children age five and under. Unlike many African countries, The Gambia provides free health care for pregnant women and young children. Despite the fairly consistent access to health care, Peace Corps volunteers try to have an impact on the behavioral health practices of villagers.
In addition to working with my counterpart, I also have found other motivated and hardworking individuals in my community who seek to improve their lives, their families’ lives, and, ultimately, their community. The work I enjoy doing most and feel is most effective is on the grassroots level, whether demonstrating how to make a mosquito repellent out of the neem tree, soap, and oil or teaching how to wash your hands properly with soap and water before eating out of the family food bowl. If I am able to teach the four teenage girls in my host family how to make mosquito repellent, they can sell it to their neighbors, make a small profit, and ultimately assist in the fight against malaria. In addition, I work with the local school administration, trying to implement better records systems for its students and staff. Also, I’ve been helping local farmers who are trying to fertilize crops better, start tree nurseries, use live fencing, and implement other appropriate and sustainable gardening and farming practices.
In addition to my duties in-village, I have spent the past year working with Peace Corps administration from the regional West Africa office in Dakar and Peace Corps The Gambia. I was asked to assist in the complete overhaul of Peace Corps The Gambia’s training design and evaluation. I also am a trainer of new Peace Corps volunteers. Based on my experience in juggling academics with activities at Lafayette, I have learned how to balance my life in village with my work with the Peace Corps administrators.
I have always been a person who has had my life planned. I’ve always known the next step or where I’m headed. And initially, especially during my first six months in The Gambia, I was only thinking about the comforts of America—foods I craved, friends and family I missed—and what my life would be like when my service was finished.
Then one morning, as I ran on a bush trail, I realized I had stopped thinking about the future. Instead, I was finally living in the moment. And I have done that now for the past year, trying to extract all I can while I’m here. There are days that I become overwhelmed, whether it be the heartache of Mero’s suffering or sitting, squished like a sardine, in a gutted-out Mercedes Benz van, traveling 300 kilometers to the capital for a meeting. On those days, my mind drifts to memories of the past and glimpses of the future, but, ultimately, I’m living in the now, because soon this experience will be over.
Just as I tried to build strong relationships while I was at Lafayette, serving as a district representative for a U.S. Congressman, and now in Peace Corps, I recognize that life is about discovery and rediscovery of your surroundings and its people, the unfamiliar, and oneself. And often, I sit under that same baobab tree where I sobbed the day Mero was injured, because there, I always realize there is no other time but now.