Peace Corps - A Lesson in Caring
By Jo Ann Pierce
Oct. 13, 2019
I stepped out of the plane into a sultry night so thick that I swear it held my body upright as I tried to wake up from my way too long flight. As I clung to the rail of the steps that had been rolled up to the outside of the plane I saw coconut trees below and the Southern Cross constellation above. I wasn't in Massachusetts anymore. My first thought was, "What the heck am I doing here!" I asked that same question many times over the next 2 years.
Back in late 1982, when I was 27 years old, I was in the island nation of Fiji, about to begin in-country training before embarking on two years of Peace Corps service. It was volunteer work but we were paid a small stipend for living expenses. I had already had some training in the U.S., at the University of Maryland with about 25 other trainees. We were all going to be doing "Rural Community Development" work so we got a smattering of animal husbandry and farming information. Most of us were in our twenties, most of us were married, with a few single guys in the mix. I was married to my first husband at the time. There were also several couples in their 60's and 70's in our group. Two of those couples had completed Peace Corps service in other countries previously. One of the couples had served multiple times. They were an inspiration to the rest of us.
From Maryland we went to San Diego, where we were joined by a group of about 25 more trainees. They were all in the healthcare professions - nurses, nutritionists, lab technicians, and physical therapists. Most were young and single, with a smattering of older folks. They were going to be posted in the cities in healthcare jobs. In San Diego we learned a bit about the peoples of Fiji, and about cross-cultural sensitivity. And we got to go to the San Diego Zoo. Our training wasn't all work. Just mostly.
After our training in San Diego we flew to Fiji for more training. Once we landed in Fiji I felt like I had entered a world so foreign and so different that I didn't know which end was up. There were so many different sights and sounds and smells that I felt overwhelmed. I couldn't just act automatically like I had in the world I knew. I didn't know who I was in this world. I was scared. I was feeling the beginnings of what is called culture shock. Most volunteers feel it at first in a new country. They also feel it when they return home. Some of you may have felt culture shock when you have gone to live in a very new place. It is not easy, is it?
Even learning about a new country beforehand doesn't always help. Here is what I knew before I went. The country of Fiji is made up of 332 islands, of which about one third are inhabited. There are two main islands, the largest is Viti Levu, where our plane landed and where I later lived and worked. Nearby is the next largest island, Vanua Levu. All the rest of the islands are pretty small. If you put all the islands of Fiji together, they would make up a land mass slightly smaller than New Jersey. Volcanic action originally formed the islands. The highest point in Fiji is a little taller than Mt. Greylock, the highest point in Massachusetts.
Fiji is located in the South Pacific Ocean, about two-thirds of the way from Hawaii to New Zealand. It is just south of the equator and just west of the international date line. Fiji is one of the first nations of the world to begin a new day. Going there I lost a day but coming back I gained the day back. I didn't lose any special day going there but coming back I had two Christmases. Pretty cool, eh? Weather in Fiji is tropical all year round. There are two seasons, a wet one and a dry one. The wet season occurs from November to April. It is the warmest season and temperatures are in the 70's into the high 80's with high humidity. The dry season occurs between May and October. It doesn't rain much at all then, the temperatures are in the 70's and the humidity is much lower. Partly because of the weather, tourism is a big industry.
Fiji was a British colony from 1874 to 1970 and its ethnic and religious groups reflect this. When I arrived in 1982, a little under half of its population were indigenous iTaukei (EYE-ta-KAY). They were almost all Christians, mainly Methodists. Also, a little under half of the population were Indo-Fijians, who were originally brought to Fiji from India by the British as indentured laborers to work in sugar cane fields. Their religion was mainly Hindism, but there were also some Muslims, Sikhs, and Christians. The rest of the population consisted of Europeans (mostly British), part Europeans, Chinese, and other Pacific Islanders; most of them were Christian.
I was a devout Methodist back then, just like a lot of the folks in Fiji. During training in the U.S. I took comfort in thinking that I would have something in common with the people I would be working with. The day after I arrived in Fiji on that dark and sultry night, I discovered that the Peace Corps, in its wisdom, had selected me, my husband and a few others, out of our whole large group, to work in Indo-Fijian communities with Hindus. Soon I was separated from most of my friends, loaded into a jeep, and driven over rough dirt roads to a secluded camp in the hills for more training. I asked myself, "What the heck am I doing here!”
We lived in small cabins with mosquito netting over our beds. As we tried to sleep mosquitoes whined inside the cabin and fruit bats squealed and screeched outside in the papaya trees. Fruit bats, by the way, are the only mammals (besides people) indiginous to Fiji. For some reason, we all liked to watch the fruit bats come out in the evenings and fly to the fruit trees. Our Indo-Fijian trainers thought we were crazy. In a central dining hall we learned to eat curries with our hands, as was common practice in the rural areas. It was my first taste ever of spicy food. We also learned Indo-Fijian customs, dress, and especially language. Would you like to learn a word in Fiji-Hindi, as the language is called? Repeat after me, "gahduur". (pause) "Gahduur." You just learned how to say "fruit bat".
After several weeks at the camp, and after everyone passed a verbal language test, we took another bumpy jeep ride to a nearby town. There we were split up and stayed with different families for several days. We got to practice our language skills, and take part in our family's daily lives. On the last day I received a gift of a sari from my host family and learned how to wear it. I wore it for the neighborhood 3 farewell party on that day. I also wore a sari for many special occasions while I was working in Fiji. Since you all are very special to me and this is a special occasion I am wearing a sari today. Usually I would wear the traditional short sleeved, short top, but October in New England is a bit cooler than October in Fiji.
And it was around this time of year that we were finally sent out to our work sites. After our training, we were given some basic cooking supplies, bed linens and mosquito netting by the Peace Corps. Our host community had to provide a house, a bed, a table and 2 chairs, some source of water, a shower, and a toilet of some kind. The house I lived in was a small corrogated metal, both walls and roof 3 room house. The kitchen and bedroom had a wood floor. The living/dining room was one step down on the ground, with sacking sewn together as a covering. There was one wooden door and several windows with wooden shutters but no screens. There was no electricity. I was lucky in that I had running water coming into a sink in my house. It was just cold water, but it was handy. Unfortunately, the shower also had just cold water, which was fine during the warmer weather but goosebump producing during the cooler weather. It was outside as a separate standing structure, as was common in my community. The toilet was also outside in another separate building, an outhouse with a pit toilet, which was also common.
I was assigned to work in two communities, Tova, where I lived and Banisoqosoqo which was located next door on the other side of a ridge. Both had a single dirt road running into it off a main dirt road which circled the island. There was no town center, just groups of houses called compounds scattered along the road. In each compound parents, younger children, older sons and their wives and their children all lived. There was an elementary school on the main road at the beginning of each road leading into each community. In Tova, where I lived, there was also a small store at the beginning of my road. I got basic supplies like, rice, eggs, spices and kerosine there. At the other end of each road were iTaukei villages and then mangrove swamps. There were also iTaukei villages for miles on either side of Tova and Banisongosongo. The iTaukei and the IndoFijians did not interact much at all. About an hours bus ride north, along the main road around the island, was the small town of Rakiraki. There I could get more extensive supplies, and go to the bank and the post office.
I went food shopping in Rakiraki every couple of weeks. It took most of the day. In fact, daily living took up a lot of my time. Cooking, cleaning, washing cloths by hand, growing some food, all without the machines I took for granted back in the States, seemed to eat into much of my time for doing important work. But then I noticed something. The locals seemed to appreciate that I lived, dressed, and spoke as they did, unlike the tourists they saw, who did not. And so one of the first lessons in caring I learned in Fiji was that sometimes it is just the little things that make a big difference to others.
My job title was "Rural Community Development". In the rural area where I worked, sugar cane and rice were grown. My neighbors worked very hard but most of the people there were barely getting by. They did not own the houses or the land they lived on. The difference in their lives as opposed to the tourists in 4 the resorts was astronomical. The difference was not lost on me. I wanted to help them but did not know what to do. I felt so inadequate and again thought, "What the heck am I doing here."
But, I started visiting people, mostly the women of the communities. In the rural Indo-Fijian areas, the women and men did most everything separately. They ate separately and at different times - the men first, then the children, and finally the women. They also sat separately at religious ceremonies, weddings and other gatherings. The men worked outside the home and the women worked at home - cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the children. At each new home I visited, I followed the local custom of bringing "meetai", which means sweets, for the children. The children and were always very glad to see me! After a while I realized that there was a lesson in this - Don't forget about the children! And as I visited different homes, I heard that a previous volunteer had started a women's group in each of the two communities I was responsible for helping. Aha! It was a place I could start. And so I learned another lesson - If I don't know what to do, start listening.
The women's group in the community where I lived had stopped meeting and I was never able to get it going again, but the group in the other community was still meeting. I started attending each month. The women didn't seem to want to do anything except meet and talk and I often felt that I wasn't accomplishing anything with them. I often thought, "What the heck am I doing here." I would add in some health and nutrition education once in a while, but that was it. The women didn't seem to want to do anything important to make their lives better. Finally I realized that they were doing quite a bit, just by meeting. Women in their communities usually didn't see each other except at weddings, funerals, and religious ceremonies. To meet together every month, without any men anywhere around, and talk together about their lives, their problems, their joys, and their concerns was very important to them. My being there and supporting them was important. I had learned another lesson - It is not up to me to decide what is important to someone else, it is up to them.
Sometimes, opportunities happened when I wasn't expecting them. One day as I was walking by the local school, the headmaster came out to see me. He asked if I would help out in school library. A previous volunteer had started it but the teachers didn't have time to take care of it. He asked if I would come once a week and take care of it and teach some of the older children how to run it. I told him that I had used libraries since I was a child but had never worked in one before. That didn't matter to him. He still wanted me to help. So I did. I invented a system that worked and that the older children could carry on doing once I was gone. I'm sure I didn't do everything the "right" way but children had access to books and they would continue to. And so so I another lesson - I didn't have to be skilled or trained, before I could do anything. I could always do something.
Sometimes things didn't go the way I thought they would. One day I was visiting a family I had become friends with. While I was there the grandmother asked me if I had a coffee jar. I said no, but I could 5 get one. The next time I went into Rakiraki, I bought some coffee. When I brought the jar to the woman, she looked at it in puzzlement. It turned out that she wanted an empty jar, not a full one. The empty ones made great storage containers. This provided another lesson in caring for me. Just listening wasn't enough. I needed to listen carefully and make sure I really understood how I could help.
Sometimes things did not go well at all. Late one night someone came to my house asking for help with a goat who was having trouble giving birth. I quickly looked through my book on goat care that the Peace Corps had given me, then my husband and I went out to look at the goat. I tried everything the book suggested, but nothing seemed to work. Finally I had to give up. I just didn't know enough. I heard the next day that the goat finally managed to give birth many hours later. The goat mother was okay but the kid did not survive the birth process. I learned a hard lesson that no matter how much I cared, that didn't mean that everything would work out well. Sometimes things were just too much for me to handle and I would again think, "What the heck am I doing here." I'm not talking about the giant coakroaches that scuttled across my floor at night or stealthily ate the spines of my paperback books. I'm not talking about the myna birds that clumped across my metal roof way too early every morning. I'm not even talking about the mammoth Rinocerous Beetle who always walks straight ahead; who would clobber the metal wall of my house with a resounding thud, thud, thud, thud every night until I went outside and turned him in a different direction. I'm talking about something far worse . . . pumpkin curry. One woman I would visit always invited me to have something to eat each time I was there. It was always pumpkin curry. Her pumpkin curry was the spicy hottest food I have ever tasted. On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the hottest, hers was a 20. I didn't want to hurt her feelings so I always ate the large serving she gave me, and was knocked out with intestinal pain for a whole day afterwards. Finally I figured out a very important lesson, one that I keep having to learn over and over. If I am going to be able to care for others, I also need to care for myself. So finally I started saying, "Kahli, thora, thora", only a little. And I felt much better.
I hope you have enjoyed this journey with me back to the days of my Peace Corps Service. Though I often felt inadequite and wondered what the heck I was doing there, I like to think that I made a bit of a difference. And Peace Corps certainly had a big impact on me. Living in another country, in another culture changed my view of the world and of this country. But that could be a whole sermon for another day. For now, I leave you with what I learned: Sometimes it is just the little things that make a big difference. If you don't know what to do, listen, and listen very carefully. Remember is not up to you to decide what is important to someone else, it is up to them. Try, even if you feel inadequite or not skilled enough. Everything will not always work out, that's okay. Take care of yourself, as well as others. And never forget about the children.
Reading 1: The Peace Corps Peace Corps Volunteers carry out people-to-people public service and citizen diplomacy at the grassroots level. Drawn from all corners of the United States, Volunteers work to address challenges in agriculture, community economic development, education, environment, health, and youth development across the globe. Volunteers return home as global citizens with unique cross-cultural perspectives—as well as leadership, language, teaching, and community development skills that provide a competitive edge in today’s global economy. Today, nearly six decades after its founding by President John F. Kennedy, the Peace Corps remains committed to promoting world peace and friendship by pursuing three goals. 1. To help the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women. 2. To help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served. 3. To help promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.
Peacecorps.gov
Reading 2: Impact of the Peace Corps Loret Miller Ruppe, in a 1996 speech, recounted this incident which occurred during the time I was in the Peace Corps, and when she was the Director of the Peace Corps. She said: "In 1983, I was invited to the White House for the state visit of Prime Minister Ratu Mara of Fiji. Everyone took their seats around this enormous table - President Reagan, Vice President Bush, Caspar Weinberger, the rest of the Cabinet, with the Prime Minister and his delegation, and myself. They talked about world conditions, sugar quotas, nuclear free zones. The President then asked the Prime Minister to make his presentation. A very distinguished gentleman, he drew himself up and said, 'President Reagan, I bring you today the sincere thanks of my government and my people.' Everyone held their breath and there was total silence. 'For the men and women of the Peace Corps who go out into our villages, who live with our people.' He went on and on. I beamed. Vice President Bush leaned over afterwards and whispered, 'What did you pay that man to say that?' A week later, the Office of Management and Budget presented the budget to President Reagan with a cut for the Peace Corps. President Reagan said, 'Don't cut the Peace Corps. It's the only thing I got thanked for last week at the State Dinner.' The Peace Corps budget went up. Vice President Bush asked kiddingly again, 'What did you pay?' " Loret Miller Ruppe's Speech at the 35th Anniversary Celebration of The Peace Corps, March 1-3, 1996
By Jo Ann Pierce
Oct. 13, 2019
I stepped out of the plane into a sultry night so thick that I swear it held my body upright as I tried to wake up from my way too long flight. As I clung to the rail of the steps that had been rolled up to the outside of the plane I saw coconut trees below and the Southern Cross constellation above. I wasn't in Massachusetts anymore. My first thought was, "What the heck am I doing here!" I asked that same question many times over the next 2 years.
Back in late 1982, when I was 27 years old, I was in the island nation of Fiji, about to begin in-country training before embarking on two years of Peace Corps service. It was volunteer work but we were paid a small stipend for living expenses. I had already had some training in the U.S., at the University of Maryland with about 25 other trainees. We were all going to be doing "Rural Community Development" work so we got a smattering of animal husbandry and farming information. Most of us were in our twenties, most of us were married, with a few single guys in the mix. I was married to my first husband at the time. There were also several couples in their 60's and 70's in our group. Two of those couples had completed Peace Corps service in other countries previously. One of the couples had served multiple times. They were an inspiration to the rest of us.
From Maryland we went to San Diego, where we were joined by a group of about 25 more trainees. They were all in the healthcare professions - nurses, nutritionists, lab technicians, and physical therapists. Most were young and single, with a smattering of older folks. They were going to be posted in the cities in healthcare jobs. In San Diego we learned a bit about the peoples of Fiji, and about cross-cultural sensitivity. And we got to go to the San Diego Zoo. Our training wasn't all work. Just mostly.
After our training in San Diego we flew to Fiji for more training. Once we landed in Fiji I felt like I had entered a world so foreign and so different that I didn't know which end was up. There were so many different sights and sounds and smells that I felt overwhelmed. I couldn't just act automatically like I had in the world I knew. I didn't know who I was in this world. I was scared. I was feeling the beginnings of what is called culture shock. Most volunteers feel it at first in a new country. They also feel it when they return home. Some of you may have felt culture shock when you have gone to live in a very new place. It is not easy, is it?
Even learning about a new country beforehand doesn't always help. Here is what I knew before I went. The country of Fiji is made up of 332 islands, of which about one third are inhabited. There are two main islands, the largest is Viti Levu, where our plane landed and where I later lived and worked. Nearby is the next largest island, Vanua Levu. All the rest of the islands are pretty small. If you put all the islands of Fiji together, they would make up a land mass slightly smaller than New Jersey. Volcanic action originally formed the islands. The highest point in Fiji is a little taller than Mt. Greylock, the highest point in Massachusetts.
Fiji is located in the South Pacific Ocean, about two-thirds of the way from Hawaii to New Zealand. It is just south of the equator and just west of the international date line. Fiji is one of the first nations of the world to begin a new day. Going there I lost a day but coming back I gained the day back. I didn't lose any special day going there but coming back I had two Christmases. Pretty cool, eh? Weather in Fiji is tropical all year round. There are two seasons, a wet one and a dry one. The wet season occurs from November to April. It is the warmest season and temperatures are in the 70's into the high 80's with high humidity. The dry season occurs between May and October. It doesn't rain much at all then, the temperatures are in the 70's and the humidity is much lower. Partly because of the weather, tourism is a big industry.
Fiji was a British colony from 1874 to 1970 and its ethnic and religious groups reflect this. When I arrived in 1982, a little under half of its population were indigenous iTaukei (EYE-ta-KAY). They were almost all Christians, mainly Methodists. Also, a little under half of the population were Indo-Fijians, who were originally brought to Fiji from India by the British as indentured laborers to work in sugar cane fields. Their religion was mainly Hindism, but there were also some Muslims, Sikhs, and Christians. The rest of the population consisted of Europeans (mostly British), part Europeans, Chinese, and other Pacific Islanders; most of them were Christian.
I was a devout Methodist back then, just like a lot of the folks in Fiji. During training in the U.S. I took comfort in thinking that I would have something in common with the people I would be working with. The day after I arrived in Fiji on that dark and sultry night, I discovered that the Peace Corps, in its wisdom, had selected me, my husband and a few others, out of our whole large group, to work in Indo-Fijian communities with Hindus. Soon I was separated from most of my friends, loaded into a jeep, and driven over rough dirt roads to a secluded camp in the hills for more training. I asked myself, "What the heck am I doing here!”
We lived in small cabins with mosquito netting over our beds. As we tried to sleep mosquitoes whined inside the cabin and fruit bats squealed and screeched outside in the papaya trees. Fruit bats, by the way, are the only mammals (besides people) indiginous to Fiji. For some reason, we all liked to watch the fruit bats come out in the evenings and fly to the fruit trees. Our Indo-Fijian trainers thought we were crazy. In a central dining hall we learned to eat curries with our hands, as was common practice in the rural areas. It was my first taste ever of spicy food. We also learned Indo-Fijian customs, dress, and especially language. Would you like to learn a word in Fiji-Hindi, as the language is called? Repeat after me, "gahduur". (pause) "Gahduur." You just learned how to say "fruit bat".
After several weeks at the camp, and after everyone passed a verbal language test, we took another bumpy jeep ride to a nearby town. There we were split up and stayed with different families for several days. We got to practice our language skills, and take part in our family's daily lives. On the last day I received a gift of a sari from my host family and learned how to wear it. I wore it for the neighborhood 3 farewell party on that day. I also wore a sari for many special occasions while I was working in Fiji. Since you all are very special to me and this is a special occasion I am wearing a sari today. Usually I would wear the traditional short sleeved, short top, but October in New England is a bit cooler than October in Fiji.
And it was around this time of year that we were finally sent out to our work sites. After our training, we were given some basic cooking supplies, bed linens and mosquito netting by the Peace Corps. Our host community had to provide a house, a bed, a table and 2 chairs, some source of water, a shower, and a toilet of some kind. The house I lived in was a small corrogated metal, both walls and roof 3 room house. The kitchen and bedroom had a wood floor. The living/dining room was one step down on the ground, with sacking sewn together as a covering. There was one wooden door and several windows with wooden shutters but no screens. There was no electricity. I was lucky in that I had running water coming into a sink in my house. It was just cold water, but it was handy. Unfortunately, the shower also had just cold water, which was fine during the warmer weather but goosebump producing during the cooler weather. It was outside as a separate standing structure, as was common in my community. The toilet was also outside in another separate building, an outhouse with a pit toilet, which was also common.
I was assigned to work in two communities, Tova, where I lived and Banisoqosoqo which was located next door on the other side of a ridge. Both had a single dirt road running into it off a main dirt road which circled the island. There was no town center, just groups of houses called compounds scattered along the road. In each compound parents, younger children, older sons and their wives and their children all lived. There was an elementary school on the main road at the beginning of each road leading into each community. In Tova, where I lived, there was also a small store at the beginning of my road. I got basic supplies like, rice, eggs, spices and kerosine there. At the other end of each road were iTaukei villages and then mangrove swamps. There were also iTaukei villages for miles on either side of Tova and Banisongosongo. The iTaukei and the IndoFijians did not interact much at all. About an hours bus ride north, along the main road around the island, was the small town of Rakiraki. There I could get more extensive supplies, and go to the bank and the post office.
I went food shopping in Rakiraki every couple of weeks. It took most of the day. In fact, daily living took up a lot of my time. Cooking, cleaning, washing cloths by hand, growing some food, all without the machines I took for granted back in the States, seemed to eat into much of my time for doing important work. But then I noticed something. The locals seemed to appreciate that I lived, dressed, and spoke as they did, unlike the tourists they saw, who did not. And so one of the first lessons in caring I learned in Fiji was that sometimes it is just the little things that make a big difference to others.
My job title was "Rural Community Development". In the rural area where I worked, sugar cane and rice were grown. My neighbors worked very hard but most of the people there were barely getting by. They did not own the houses or the land they lived on. The difference in their lives as opposed to the tourists in 4 the resorts was astronomical. The difference was not lost on me. I wanted to help them but did not know what to do. I felt so inadequate and again thought, "What the heck am I doing here."
But, I started visiting people, mostly the women of the communities. In the rural Indo-Fijian areas, the women and men did most everything separately. They ate separately and at different times - the men first, then the children, and finally the women. They also sat separately at religious ceremonies, weddings and other gatherings. The men worked outside the home and the women worked at home - cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the children. At each new home I visited, I followed the local custom of bringing "meetai", which means sweets, for the children. The children and were always very glad to see me! After a while I realized that there was a lesson in this - Don't forget about the children! And as I visited different homes, I heard that a previous volunteer had started a women's group in each of the two communities I was responsible for helping. Aha! It was a place I could start. And so I learned another lesson - If I don't know what to do, start listening.
The women's group in the community where I lived had stopped meeting and I was never able to get it going again, but the group in the other community was still meeting. I started attending each month. The women didn't seem to want to do anything except meet and talk and I often felt that I wasn't accomplishing anything with them. I often thought, "What the heck am I doing here." I would add in some health and nutrition education once in a while, but that was it. The women didn't seem to want to do anything important to make their lives better. Finally I realized that they were doing quite a bit, just by meeting. Women in their communities usually didn't see each other except at weddings, funerals, and religious ceremonies. To meet together every month, without any men anywhere around, and talk together about their lives, their problems, their joys, and their concerns was very important to them. My being there and supporting them was important. I had learned another lesson - It is not up to me to decide what is important to someone else, it is up to them.
Sometimes, opportunities happened when I wasn't expecting them. One day as I was walking by the local school, the headmaster came out to see me. He asked if I would help out in school library. A previous volunteer had started it but the teachers didn't have time to take care of it. He asked if I would come once a week and take care of it and teach some of the older children how to run it. I told him that I had used libraries since I was a child but had never worked in one before. That didn't matter to him. He still wanted me to help. So I did. I invented a system that worked and that the older children could carry on doing once I was gone. I'm sure I didn't do everything the "right" way but children had access to books and they would continue to. And so so I another lesson - I didn't have to be skilled or trained, before I could do anything. I could always do something.
Sometimes things didn't go the way I thought they would. One day I was visiting a family I had become friends with. While I was there the grandmother asked me if I had a coffee jar. I said no, but I could 5 get one. The next time I went into Rakiraki, I bought some coffee. When I brought the jar to the woman, she looked at it in puzzlement. It turned out that she wanted an empty jar, not a full one. The empty ones made great storage containers. This provided another lesson in caring for me. Just listening wasn't enough. I needed to listen carefully and make sure I really understood how I could help.
Sometimes things did not go well at all. Late one night someone came to my house asking for help with a goat who was having trouble giving birth. I quickly looked through my book on goat care that the Peace Corps had given me, then my husband and I went out to look at the goat. I tried everything the book suggested, but nothing seemed to work. Finally I had to give up. I just didn't know enough. I heard the next day that the goat finally managed to give birth many hours later. The goat mother was okay but the kid did not survive the birth process. I learned a hard lesson that no matter how much I cared, that didn't mean that everything would work out well. Sometimes things were just too much for me to handle and I would again think, "What the heck am I doing here." I'm not talking about the giant coakroaches that scuttled across my floor at night or stealthily ate the spines of my paperback books. I'm not talking about the myna birds that clumped across my metal roof way too early every morning. I'm not even talking about the mammoth Rinocerous Beetle who always walks straight ahead; who would clobber the metal wall of my house with a resounding thud, thud, thud, thud every night until I went outside and turned him in a different direction. I'm talking about something far worse . . . pumpkin curry. One woman I would visit always invited me to have something to eat each time I was there. It was always pumpkin curry. Her pumpkin curry was the spicy hottest food I have ever tasted. On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the hottest, hers was a 20. I didn't want to hurt her feelings so I always ate the large serving she gave me, and was knocked out with intestinal pain for a whole day afterwards. Finally I figured out a very important lesson, one that I keep having to learn over and over. If I am going to be able to care for others, I also need to care for myself. So finally I started saying, "Kahli, thora, thora", only a little. And I felt much better.
I hope you have enjoyed this journey with me back to the days of my Peace Corps Service. Though I often felt inadequite and wondered what the heck I was doing there, I like to think that I made a bit of a difference. And Peace Corps certainly had a big impact on me. Living in another country, in another culture changed my view of the world and of this country. But that could be a whole sermon for another day. For now, I leave you with what I learned: Sometimes it is just the little things that make a big difference. If you don't know what to do, listen, and listen very carefully. Remember is not up to you to decide what is important to someone else, it is up to them. Try, even if you feel inadequite or not skilled enough. Everything will not always work out, that's okay. Take care of yourself, as well as others. And never forget about the children.
Reading 1: The Peace Corps Peace Corps Volunteers carry out people-to-people public service and citizen diplomacy at the grassroots level. Drawn from all corners of the United States, Volunteers work to address challenges in agriculture, community economic development, education, environment, health, and youth development across the globe. Volunteers return home as global citizens with unique cross-cultural perspectives—as well as leadership, language, teaching, and community development skills that provide a competitive edge in today’s global economy. Today, nearly six decades after its founding by President John F. Kennedy, the Peace Corps remains committed to promoting world peace and friendship by pursuing three goals. 1. To help the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women. 2. To help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served. 3. To help promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.
Peacecorps.gov
Reading 2: Impact of the Peace Corps Loret Miller Ruppe, in a 1996 speech, recounted this incident which occurred during the time I was in the Peace Corps, and when she was the Director of the Peace Corps. She said: "In 1983, I was invited to the White House for the state visit of Prime Minister Ratu Mara of Fiji. Everyone took their seats around this enormous table - President Reagan, Vice President Bush, Caspar Weinberger, the rest of the Cabinet, with the Prime Minister and his delegation, and myself. They talked about world conditions, sugar quotas, nuclear free zones. The President then asked the Prime Minister to make his presentation. A very distinguished gentleman, he drew himself up and said, 'President Reagan, I bring you today the sincere thanks of my government and my people.' Everyone held their breath and there was total silence. 'For the men and women of the Peace Corps who go out into our villages, who live with our people.' He went on and on. I beamed. Vice President Bush leaned over afterwards and whispered, 'What did you pay that man to say that?' A week later, the Office of Management and Budget presented the budget to President Reagan with a cut for the Peace Corps. President Reagan said, 'Don't cut the Peace Corps. It's the only thing I got thanked for last week at the State Dinner.' The Peace Corps budget went up. Vice President Bush asked kiddingly again, 'What did you pay?' " Loret Miller Ruppe's Speech at the 35th Anniversary Celebration of The Peace Corps, March 1-3, 1996