Part 1: The Path to Peace Corps
For most of our in-house years, my parents dragged my siblings and I all over the city doing community service work. Saturday morning deliveries for Meals on Wheels, after-school pantry organizing at St. Vincent de Paul, embarrassingly dressing up as the Easter Bunny for egg-hunts for disadvantaged kids, singing poorly or playing Bingo at nursing homes and getting harmless but unwanted caresses by strange smelling old people, weeding at the church, giving our own blood away on drive days, fixing and painting houses for Habitat for Humanity, raising money for March of Dimes – we did it all. To be clear, this isn’t a toot-my-own-horn admission. Most of these “kindnesses” were forced – we had to do them. I would have preferred to be doing so many other things - like being dropped off at Skate Town with its Skittle-smelling bathrooms, giant pickles, tasty packets of loose dyed sugar with enclosed sugar scoop, and Hokey-Pokey interludes, but no, there was no choice. Throwing tantrums or trying to stage hunger strikes would have been simply useless. We knew what we faced if we tried to refuse -- guilt -- good old-fashioned guilt with accompanying psychological pains administered by our seriously Dorothy-Day-Catholic parents. It would be waiting for us if we made the slightest protest or under-breath mumblings about our day's already scheduled activities. I am fairly positive that within my parents’ 1960s-1970s Catholic school curriculum there was a class called Guilt which gave a plenitude on the subject, such as “Guilt: A Way of Life,” “Understanding the Importance of Guilt,” and “Indoctrinating Guilt.” Homework for this orthopraxic class never altered: practice, practice, practice. Most students at the time passed the courses, yet few became such experts in the field as my parents. (The class was omitted before I entered school, realizing it was superfluous as it would be something eternally used in the Catholic home.) Small example: For many years as a child, my sweet, always-old father often had to travel for court appearances (a nerdy Atticus-Finch-solicitor type not a deadbeat-alcoholic-petty criminal) to the towns of Shreveport or Alexandria – several hours away. After receiving a “no” to his request for one of his many children to be his traveling buddy on the short trip, he would reply using his never-fail tactic, “Oh, ok. That's alright. [insert thoughtful pause] I hope I don’t fall asleep and die in a fiery wreck.” Someone would shortly thereafter volunteer and fortunately up to this point, no fiery fate has fallen upon him.
Maybe by plan and after what surely seemed for them a painfully, too-long development, my parents had done something for me. Community service finally went from being a chore to a part of life to something I enjoyed. At some point in high school, I decided that aid work was something I wanted to do as a part of my life -- international aid work, in particular. Yet, I didn’t know how to do that. During college, I was able to go on two separate church mission trips – one to Mexico and one to a Navajo Reservation at the Four Corners. Having always disliked the idea of religious proselytization (which must have been a parental unit influence stemming from their tendency to follow the reported St. Francis of Assisi approach: “Preach the gospel at all times; if necessary, use words.” Words never seemed necessary) and being a non-believing (but still culturally-complete) Catholic, I didn’t really like the work of building a chapel or repairing a church community center. For my own rationalizing though, we weren’t evangelizing --- that stage had long passed for our host communities, and in retrospect, we were just helping give those individuals what they decidedly wanted. My relationship with the notion of religious campaigning goes frustratingly back-and-forth. In theory, I’m very against it. In reality, I see the positive byproducts of its missionaries, often coming in the form of hospitals, health, food, education, and adoption services – dire needs often lacking enough support from secular institutions. Societies' religions are always changing anyway. Getting treated for cholera seems like a good trade-off for having to hear about Jesus or Joe Smith - at least, in a non-speculating way, they have very good stories, but flip the coin and then I see how it physically hurts people when they condemn birth-control in AIDS-ridden countries or teach moral-superiority over others. Although I decided a religious organization wasn’t going to be my vehicle to humanitarian work, it did reaffirm my desire to work in foreign lands – the trips had been culturally eye-opening and huge educations.
Maybe by plan and after what surely seemed for them a painfully, too-long development, my parents had done something for me. Community service finally went from being a chore to a part of life to something I enjoyed. At some point in high school, I decided that aid work was something I wanted to do as a part of my life -- international aid work, in particular. Yet, I didn’t know how to do that. During college, I was able to go on two separate church mission trips – one to Mexico and one to a Navajo Reservation at the Four Corners. Having always disliked the idea of religious proselytization (which must have been a parental unit influence stemming from their tendency to follow the reported St. Francis of Assisi approach: “Preach the gospel at all times; if necessary, use words.” Words never seemed necessary) and being a non-believing (but still culturally-complete) Catholic, I didn’t really like the work of building a chapel or repairing a church community center. For my own rationalizing though, we weren’t evangelizing --- that stage had long passed for our host communities, and in retrospect, we were just helping give those individuals what they decidedly wanted. My relationship with the notion of religious campaigning goes frustratingly back-and-forth. In theory, I’m very against it. In reality, I see the positive byproducts of its missionaries, often coming in the form of hospitals, health, food, education, and adoption services – dire needs often lacking enough support from secular institutions. Societies' religions are always changing anyway. Getting treated for cholera seems like a good trade-off for having to hear about Jesus or Joe Smith - at least, in a non-speculating way, they have very good stories, but flip the coin and then I see how it physically hurts people when they condemn birth-control in AIDS-ridden countries or teach moral-superiority over others. Although I decided a religious organization wasn’t going to be my vehicle to humanitarian work, it did reaffirm my desire to work in foreign lands – the trips had been culturally eye-opening and huge educations.
So where did that leave me? Peace Corps? No. For much of college, I believed the Peace Corps was a well-intentioned but somewhat misguided organization. It was filled with lackluster hippies (Side-note: I appreciate and see the importance of the historical Hippie Movement, believing it to have helped society progress but that doesn't soften my views on its individual level. Unjustified or not, I have always (after maybe the age of 15) seen old and new-age hippies as mainly self-centered, lazy citizens. Rude, I know.) It seemed to me that Peace Corps was actually just a front for its own version of American neocolonialism. Who was I to tell people that America(ns) are superior and everyone should do as we do? And using hippies?! – well, that just seemed completely inefficient. Again, another organization that I didn’t want to be a part.
Fast forward. I joined the Peace Corps.
After long fruitless searching, Peace Corps seemed the only real and affordable way for me to actually make my way into the world of international aid. It would simply be a stepping stone. Fast forward. To my pleasant surprise, I didn’t find a rat pack of dread-lock wearing, patchouli smelling freeloaders. I didn’t find American extremists preaching democracy and McDonald’s at every corner. I found middle-of-the road, good-natured Americans who maybe selfishly, like me, wanted the free exotic ticket to unknown lands, but who also came prepared to get their hands dirty and extend some help in a place that has asked for it. Nixon was wrong on this one – the Peace Corps didn’t become a sanctuary for a "cult of escapism" or "a haven for draft dodgers” like he had predicted.
Fast forward. I joined the Peace Corps.
After long fruitless searching, Peace Corps seemed the only real and affordable way for me to actually make my way into the world of international aid. It would simply be a stepping stone. Fast forward. To my pleasant surprise, I didn’t find a rat pack of dread-lock wearing, patchouli smelling freeloaders. I didn’t find American extremists preaching democracy and McDonald’s at every corner. I found middle-of-the road, good-natured Americans who maybe selfishly, like me, wanted the free exotic ticket to unknown lands, but who also came prepared to get their hands dirty and extend some help in a place that has asked for it. Nixon was wrong on this one – the Peace Corps didn’t become a sanctuary for a "cult of escapism" or "a haven for draft dodgers” like he had predicted.
Part 2: Slipping into Diplomacy
Recently, Earth has been in the wake of the dubbed “Arab Spring” and has also unfortunately seen a series of anti-American attacks. Not remembering our own bloody, not-so-cut-and-dry revolution and civil war, many Americans seem too quick to judge the current transitional, rocky state of things for many foreign nations, forgetting that these things take time. With that being said though, and despite it being a small minority that holds anti-American views, we live in an ever-shrinking world (marketplace), and no one seems to be left untouched. Therefore, our national security must concern itself with a minority’s threats. The U.S. government must address current and future issues in this arena, but how we do that, through its many forms, is of utmost importance. One of those ways...
Outside of the U.S., for many people most of what is known about Americans comes from media - the news, YouTube, movies, radio - perpetually being filtered in some way for the benefit or the agenda of some one or some group (a universal predicament and not unique to the U.S.). Perceptions don't come from actual interactions with Americans, thus very limited and biased illustrations take root. Although a fairly small body, this is where the Peace Corps comes into play as an overlooked but crucial player. President Kennedy pushed for the creation of the Peace Corps so as to help combat the idea of the "Ugly American," and I believe, along with doing many other things, that the organization is still doing it.
Outside of the U.S., for many people most of what is known about Americans comes from media - the news, YouTube, movies, radio - perpetually being filtered in some way for the benefit or the agenda of some one or some group (a universal predicament and not unique to the U.S.). Perceptions don't come from actual interactions with Americans, thus very limited and biased illustrations take root. Although a fairly small body, this is where the Peace Corps comes into play as an overlooked but crucial player. President Kennedy pushed for the creation of the Peace Corps so as to help combat the idea of the "Ugly American," and I believe, along with doing many other things, that the organization is still doing it.
Before I left America for my little 27 month stint in Cameroon, I read Peace Corps’ mission and its three main objectives: to provide technical assistance; help people outside the United States to understand American culture; and help Americans to understand the cultures of other countries, but not until I started serving did I better understand our purpose and one of our core strengths – the personal interactions. We might do a bit of development work while we are here and we might spark some sort of American-based aspirations in a few individuals, but a whole lot of what we’re doing is just being American. We try to be respectful and integrate as much as possible. We wear traditional clothes, we eat the traditional food, we eat what we are given even when we aren’t hungry, we only use our right hands, and we yell at drivers like the other passengers. These are welcomed actions in our communities and consequently, “integrating” also helps keep us safe. Yet, we’re still obviously outsiders (and as outsiders, are new and fascinating objects, constantly being watched and evaluated). We can’t hide it; we don’t completely want to – so we allow parts of our American culture to show. We run, ride bikes, and throw the Frisbee, we don’t always or ever fully cover up our legs and arms, we keep pets, we drink publicly in bars, we ask for hamburgers, we cook and bake food that is offered (but not often enjoyed) to our neighbors, we leave meetings after waiting twenty minutes for people to show up - which we think is too long, and we celebrate our own holidays. We might purposefully try and make eye contact or shake the hand of an older Muslim man, knowing that he might possibly be uncomfortable with it. Volunteers don't sit around outdoor cook-fires, matronizing our hosts, and claiming that the U.S. is the best place in the world – we try to build up our host nations, not make them feel more insecure. Most of our non-work conversations cover all sorts of things - from our families, sports, national and international politics, Rhianna or Celine Dion, the weather, religion, or prices of tomatoes. Everyday conversations. Volunteers live and interact daily with the average citizen, and from that new opinions or views are constantly being created. It is quite possible that I may be the only American that many Cameroonians ever meet. My impressions certainly mean something.
Peace Corps, therefore, takes a very unique position in American diplomacy. U.S. Foreign Service Officers, such as our Ambassadors, the American military and American tourists all play significant and necessary roles in foreign affairs, however, none of them operate on the same plane as volunteers. We're not living behind guarded walls in American-amenity homes with chauffeurs driving us everywhere we go. There is a certain freedom that no other American government organization gets to enjoy quite like we do. No, we are not always on some constant positive-high, running around making major impacts in our communities (although it does happen), yet we are making constant, big and little, impressions. After leaving a meeting or a run-in on the street, or after two years or ten years of having consecutive volunteers, most host country nationals don’t form anti-American thoughts. They may no longer just see America as a far, far away land and place upon it a simple, single opinion. They encounter us on basic human levels and come to understand that our nation is compiled of real, living people – something that I think many Americans aren’t always great about doing when regarding non-Western countries (which is understandable – it is hard to know or feel anything for something that you have never experienced). A host country national who meets a volunteer may have zero desire to be an American or may not think anything different of democracy, or may not think Americans are without imperfection, but what he or she will have is new knowledge found in an absence -- that not all Americans are like George Bush or Bill Gates or Britney Spears, or that not all Americans are evil, or that probably most Americans aren't anti-Muslim. In fact, most will come away with the understanding that many Americans, like themselves, are agreeable folk. They may not love us, although many do, but rarely, are we hated. Evading or defeating hatred -- as far as American Diplomacy goes, that’s pretty darn important.
With less than 500 million dollars for an annual budget and armed with a whole lot of liberal arts’ graduates for an infantry, Peace Corps does a surprising amount -- not just for its host countries but for the American community. In this particular instance, volunteers, without necessarily meaning to, become very important foot soldiers for acquiring goodwill for U.S. foreign relations. This may not be the help I originally thought I would be doing or it may not be the type of aid work I still would like to do but it does seem to make some sort of positive contribution to that hopeful, futuristic land where the mythical "world peace" resides. Maybe it's because I grew up in the South where Peace Corps recruits less heavily, or maybe because of my own previous biases, or maybe because many Americans actually do see the Peace Corps as a bunch of peace-loving, stinky useless bums, I sometimes don’t think volunteers get the credit they deserve. They should. (Now, I do sound like I’m tooting my own horn.) I may not have always been the most outspoken advocate for my employer, but like President Obama who today said "this violence and intolerance has no place among our United Nations" and believing that unfounded hate can be combated through education, I have come to realize that Peace Corps is a weapon, however small, in that battle. Plus, my work doesn’t stop when I leave Cameroon – maybe I’ll help teach some of my fellow country(wo)men that Africa isn’t just one super country or "Dark Continent" simply containing a whole lot of generalized, primitive “Africans.”
Part 3: The Long Awaited Conclusion
Finally and what I am really trying to get across -- American companies who like to be all patriotic and give military discounts should also extend them to Peace Corps Volunteers.
From Dorothy Day-loving parents to U.S. foreign policy?...it made sense. Well, maybe at some point it quasi did. I won't pretend I'm proud.
Camouflaged Outsiders, Grand Mosque, Maroua, Extreme North Region
Good read Elizabeth! Bravo!
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