Dumela, Hola, Salam or simply
hello. I cannot express how happy I am to be here today, I traveled through
three continents over three days to be here today.
It seems like just yesterday I was sitting in Scriber Gym
surrounded by a group of strong, intelligent and passionate women soon to be
scattered around the globe. I can only speak for my experience in the Peace
Corps, but I suspect my words will ring true to my sisters sitting here today.
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| (part of) Cohort 8! |
I have wanted to join Peace Corps since my freshman year of
college, I vividly remem
ber meeting a recruiter and deciding that I wanted to
one day become a Peace Corps Volunteer, however, I cannot at this time
articulate why my reasons why. I suspect it is because Peace Corps has changed me.
I am in the process of completing my third year as a PCV in
Botswana. I chose to extend my service for an addition year, for I felt like my
time in Botswana wasn’t done. I have been blessed to see both beautiful and
complex sides of Botswana. Botswana is a world of dichotomies, a clash between
traditional culture and modernity. Which couldn’t be truer about my Peace Corps
service. As 21st Century PCVs, gone are the days of only communicating
by snail mail and yearly phone calls home. We live and work in communities
racing towards Westernization. Balancing my service straddling two worlds at
times was harder than learning Setswana or navigating cultural differences.
My first two years
were spent in a small village in the middle of the Kalahari, hours away from
grocery stores, banks or anything the western world would consider as
civilization. My house was little more than a glorified hut, I didn’t have electricity
and water was scarce. There were weeks
where I only ate potatoes and onions because that was the only available food
and there were weeks where I feasted on the freshest mangos, avocados and care
package goodies.
I arrived in
Lehututu late on a Friday afternoon; my belongings were brought in my students
and piled into the middle of my house. One by one I was greeted by villagers
and dusk settled in. My house was getting darker by the moment, my candles were
still buried in my pile of belongings. As the darkness settled in, a strange
feeling came over me. It took me a while to realize what it was—it was silence.
The defining silence of the village forced me to confront my thoughts and be okay
with silence. My generation of America is never unplugged or silent; the
ability to sit on the porch and watch the world go by is lost art.
At some point in
time, every volunteer dreams of the accomplishments they will achieve during
their service. Early on I decided that I wasn’t going to be the volunteer who
put in a 1000 pit latrines, start a preschool or a coffee exchange. I decided
that I would be here for relationships. Being placed at a school, the best
thing I could do was be a role model for my students. Over time, my
relationships with the students grew, students would stop by my house just to
say hello or ask for advice. My students didn’t just learn from me, I learned
from them as well.
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| The parents |
One day, I was
having a particularly bad day—one of those “why did I give up my life in
America days” as I was walking to school and wallowing in self pity a student
came up to me. She had been looking for me. Talking was the last thing that I
wanted to do, however I listened to her. She had just been diagnosed with HIV,
which she had contracted while at school. She didn’t know what to do and she
needed my help. I was humbled that she trusted me, however I felt ashamed.
While I was felling sorry for myself about meaningless matters, while her life
was forever changed. In helping her navigate her new diagnosis, she taught me a
new meaning strength and acceptance.
In Botswana, I am
the third sex, an outsider. As an outsider I have freedoms that other Batswana
and women don’t posses. I have the power to speak, when others feel they must
remain silent. As a woman some traditional cultural norms didn’t apply to me
with my status in the village. As hard as I tried to integrate and not be
treated as a guest, I often sat at the head table with the tribal chief or was
served before other women. With this power comes responsibility. I was
conscious of using my voice and actions with care.
In Botswana,
I learned about forgiveness, forgiveness for myself and others. I have learned
even more, that things are not always what they appear. I have learned
patience, humility and how to ask for help. I have learned about love and heart
break how to survive through it all. Through it all, I have learned about me. Peace Corps’ slogan is “ the toughest job you will ever love” the Marines say that bootcamp is to break you down then build you back up. My
service in the Peace Corps was very similar, through failures and success,
through tears and laughters, through 9 hour bus rides in 100 degree heat and
learning how to find joy in the small things. I am a stronger woman because of
it.
Poet Mary Oliver said “don’t worry things take the
time they take. How many roads did St. Augustine walk before be became St
Augustine.” Things in Peace Corps take the time they take, while a hard pill to
swallow, we are strong because of it. We have all walked many roads in our
services—through the twist turns and bumps in the road we have grown, blossomed
and spread our wings.
Through is all, none of us would be here without our
families. Our real family, our cohort family and our Peace Corps family.
It is customary to end speeches in Botswana by
shouting “pula”
PULA!
