I’m sitting at the training center where I started my Peace Corps journey, about to do a training to become a resource volunteer for the next cohort, cohort 36, who arrive in June. I feel wrapped in nostalgia as the Language and Culture Facilitators (LCFs) who were such a big part of my acclimation here, greet me fondly. Our conversations look a lot different now than they did at the beginning, me stumbling through sentences and words.
My French still isn’t perfect, but now I can accept that. Being anything less than articulate was torturous. Now, I say more and more every week because I realize that the way for me to get there is to keep lancing unpolished balls of language at my conversation partners. Let them take some of the weight of decoding my triple-language world. Communication is a two-way street, and I’m finally willing to admit it was never a race with a finish line. When I misconjugate the words or use an odd turn of phrase, they smile and leave it, or, if they’re truly kind, offer a gentle correction or redirection. In this way, humility has taken a structural presence in my life. To deny it would be to hide from the reality of my life.
It’s been almost a whole year. Three weeks is all that separates me from that inaugural anniversary. I’m undeniably stronger and better versed in issues of international development, community building, and teaching, but nonetheless I fail often and cry a lot from the resulting bruises to my ego. I think it’s better to admit that that’s my reality than just to leave it locked inside my head. I’ve settled into a role as a constant learner, scrupulous doubter, and collapser on couches/taker of naps when I’ve decided I just can’t make sense of things anymore.
I went somewhere new yesterday! My counterpart is a full-time English teacher, but he’s also a dedicated farmer with six fields in various locations. I asked if I could tag along on a Saturday because his farms are a huge part of his life. If he isn’t at school, he’s probably on the farm. The commute to get there was rough. I’ve clocked more hours on dirt bikes this last year than I thought I would amass in my entire life. I’m still sore. Along with the rough roads, though, was the most beautiful countryside. Eric told me it’s called Todjimè. Todji is the Adja word for hills. It was the perfect name for the rolling lands I could see stretching out in every direction.
“They need rain. Do you see?” Eric would say often.
“I can see,” I’d respond each time.
It was an intensely present morning, trudging through rivers and climbing up hills. I didn’t even check my phone to see if I had good service. It was me, Eric, and his friends working on the farms, each of whom he stopped his bike for to greet fondly. On the land, under a tree on top of the hill, I told Eric about the tornado that hit Owasso a few weeks ago. He told me about droughts and floods in Djakatomey’s past. We talked about destruction, but knowing that we share disaster inspired a solidarity. A hope and emerging confidence that now, we could turn to each other to weather storms.
I'm fiercely homesick. I miss my family. I'm missing graduations and birthdays and weddings to be here. Happy Mother's Day, Mom! But I'm learning this lessons of my life. I'm where I need to be.
I’m really worried about the unchecked effects of the actions of the executive branch of the federal government. There’s an incoming staff reduction of 50%. Reducing staff won’t make Peace Corps less bureaucratic, it will simply grind the gears of these slow processes. I’m praying that they won’t stop. Dear reader, let me share that these processes are slow with a purpose! It’s only with careful time, consideration, and attention that the Peace Corps can invest in personnel and capacity building, key elements of sustainable development. Peace Corps was already a lean agency, costing taxpayers less than a cent a year. I wonder how we’ll continue when you can see our ribs. Metaphorically. I’m not going hungry, and my service isn’t ending (“at the moment” always being the qualifying phrase that keeps me on the edge of my seat.) I just have a problem with a government that is starving aid organizations dedicated to bridging differences and building American soft power in favor of funding destruction. But if anyone can see through whatever weirdness is to come, it would be Peace Corps. Resilience is the name of the game, so after calling my congressional reps, all there’s left to do is play.
With love,
Lena
The content of this blog post is mine alone and does not reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or the Benin Government.
