It’s been many years since I’ve listened to country music. While my childhood was filled with artists like LeAnn Rimes and George Strait, for whatever reason, when I hit high school, my tastes changed. But nine months ago I was pleasantly surprised to come across songs that took me back to that time. One of which was Garth Brooks’ “Standing outside the Fire.”
The lyrics seemed a perfect representation of the journey I’ve been on over the last twenty seven months. Having officially closed out my service, I am no longer a volunteer, but a “Returned Peace Corps Volunteer,” as the new title states. However, my return home is still a few weeks away, as a trip to other parts of South America is in order first. But now that I have finished my Peace Corps service, that particular song floats through my head.
Over the last two years, I was asked one question many times: “So, why did you join Peace Corps?” It’s a fair question. Peace Corps staff had to ask it. When I met fellow volunteers, it was an easy ice breaker. Or in the quiet of an afternoon, it was something to reflect upon. I would think back to those months when I started reading about what Peace Corps is. I recalled my thought-process before applying and conversations I had with my cousin – another RPCV. It’s astounding to think, sometimes, just how much my life has changed since then. How much I have changed too. But that personal change is something that’s harder for me to see. Sort of like how you don’t notice something is growing right before your eyes, because you see it every day. Like a photograph of yourself from five years ago. Suddenly, time passes, and you blink to find a new version of who you were before. You’re still the same, but something is different now. Something has shifted and molded you into who you were always meant to be.
People join Peace Corps for a variety of reasons. I became a volunteer for a little bit of each of those. I had a job I loved, but was itching for something new. I wanted to see the world. Learn a new language. Challenge myself. Leap far out of my comfort zone. Meet new people. I remember reading over the application that I had just completed, ready to turn it in. I sat in my tiny apartment in Dallas and glanced at a calendar, and thought, “I’m going to be twenty eight by the time I’m done. Is that really what a want?” Turns out, as I clicked the “submit” button on my computer, yes that was exactly what I wanted. And maybe just what I needed.
The past twenty seven months have been the wildest, most exciting roller coaster I’ve ever been on. I had no idea what I was signing up for back in early 2014. There were tears at the airport, nerves on the plane, confusion in D.C. and excitement at the Miami airport. Fear kicked in once my group landed in Lima after midnight. The realization of what I had done finally hit me: I had signed on for twenty seven months of what would be some of the most challenging times in a completely unfamiliar place in a world where, among many things, the language and culture were not my own. Staring out the bus window into the dark sky, everything was suddenly very real.
Slowly, though, life in Peru became normal. Or, at least, it felt less like a place I was visiting or trying to work in, and more like home. Peace Corps has given me so many wonderful things. Those “government issued friends” are some of the best around. I feel so fortunate to have built friendships with people whom I admire and hope to never lose touch with. My time here also gave me another family. And my Peruvian host family is one the best. I am biased, of course, but I did strike the jackpot with them. Now I have another set of lovely parents and younger siblings. And they taught me so much about life and tradition and love.
It was expected that certain things would be given up during this ride on the other side of the world. As early as my interview prior to being invited to serve, I was asked, for example, how I handle long periods of down time. “Can you find ways to entertain yourself? How important is exercise and diet to you? Are you willing to change that? Tattoos may need to be covered. Religion will be discussed. Try to avoid politics. Certain parts of yourself may need to remain dormant. At least for a time. You just wait and see.” Some of these were easier than others. Giving up a drying machine, for instance, was not that hard. The fast food, the high speed internet, and the ability to call anybody I wanted just to chat – easy to give up. Other things were more difficult: lack of privacy and a loss of independence were two of the harder ones. Two years of constant stomach issues was, while not very fun, something that simply became another aspect of my life. More intense things like catching Dengue fever challenged my will a bit. Losing the ability to exercise regularly in a place I felt comfortable became a distant dream, or a fond memory of a time when that was as integral a part of my day as the scoopful of rice on my lunch plate now was.
Things were missed. I saw so many people start new chapters of their lives through the lens of social media. I heard updates from home thanks to family emails. Occasionally American news popped up on Peruvian television. It fascinated me to watch everything going on in this other place I call home. But now I was watching it through some long-reaching telescope from a far-away desert. Everything that had once been so familiar seemed to take on a slightly different shape. Or maybe I just began to see it all through a different perspective. Either way, as time progressed, the United States felt more and more like a place I would have to get to know again.
After rearranging things to make sure the shift into another life and culture would happen with as few bumps as possible, I find myself wondering once again how to get my mind into a place where going home – going back to everything that was at one time all I knew, but now seems like another planet – won’t knock me flat on my back at the shock of it all. Though, even with all of the readjustment tips and mental preparation, I have a feeling that as soon as I step off that plane, things won’t be quite as they were before.
But that’s part of the roller coaster ride, isn’t it? I left. I learned. I found things and people and places I never knew existed before. I tasted food and drink that was unknown to me prior to Peru. I danced until the early hours of the morning. And all of that will always be with me. Peru is a part of me now. And it will be with me wherever I go from here.
There were so many lessons learned over the past twenty seven months. And Garth Brooks’ song probably has the best one of them all nestled into its lyrics:
“But you’ve got to be tough when consumed by desire
‘Cause it’s not enough just to stand outside the fire”
The dreams that were brewing inside of me as I signed on for two years of work, tears, laughter, pain, joy, love, and learning led me to who and where I am today. It’s easy to push things aside, tuck them away in a drawer for a rainy day. It’s harder to go after something that might seem crazy or unattainable. But it can be done. And now, even if I’m scared, or even if I have no idea how something will turn out, I know that I can walk within the flames, and I’ll be ok.
No. I’ll be great.
Peruvian Peace Corps Adventures 