Closing Chapter Peace Corps

After more than two years in Bolivia as a Peace Corps Volunteer and on the brink of my return to the United States, I took a moment to look back on that service and do my best to put such an indescribable experience into words.  Here it is.  JMG

Closing Chapter Peace Corps

By James Gore

October 2005

I sit here, swaying in this chicken-shit stained hammock, rocking beneath a tree they call “Paradise” that lost all of its leaves during the last freeze.

The sun shines overhead, yet an icy, wet wind continues to cut through this skelitonesque growth, burrowing through clothes, skin, and into bones.

With the recent appearance of the sun, we’ve had a new hatching of Mosquitos, and despite my 100% Deet-doused clothes, these flesh hunters fly in and steal little bites of the Gringo, leaving behind red dots and a psychotic itch as proof of their success.

I have but a few short weeks left here in Bolivia; a few short weeks left to power through the last of my projects; a few short moments left to reflect on what it is that I’ve learned through riding out both the triumphs and failures offered during this ‘service’ to Bolivia, to the USA, and to myself.

I think about the entirety of it all.

It’s far too much to touch with words.

I think about this service, and this country, and how they both seem to push our most delicate buttons.

How they teach us exactly what we most desperately need, yet find so difficult, to learn.

For some it’s patience…
The patience it takes to let life develop at a pace contrary to the speed and efficiency that we’re accustomed to back home; to shrug our shoulders at the fact that no matter how many contingencies we take into account, the event always starts late.

For others it’s force…
The force; the push needed to insure that the Bolivian to-do list doesn’t become the never-to-be-done list, because as we all know far to well, “en un ratito” can easily turn into “mañana”, “la próxima semana”, “el otro mes”, “el año siguiente”, or even the dreaded “nunca.”

For yet others of us it’s the realization, the brutal reality, that so many of our lofty, idealistic goals for saving Bolivia have instead converted into the grounded, realistic understanding that while we can help, the only ones who can truly save Bolivia are in fact Bolivians.

Some of us must learn to affront a life surrounded by campo drunkenness.

Some must learn to swallow the pride it takes to be a community wide ‘volunteer’, by working for the greater good, even if that means working alongside people that we neither respect nor like.

Others of us, on the contrary, must learn to stand up and be assertive, for we learn that one can only swallow so much pride before choking.

After over 2 years down here, all I can offer is a, “who knows”, in terms of the uniqueness of exactly what it is that this experience offers each of us. One thing I do know for certain is that although we can relate, no two Peace Corps experiences are the same, and therefore it’s better to offer solemn respect than harsh judgment towards each other.

Yes, this experience offers so many hard lessons, but in spite of these trials, we can’t forget about all that crazy fun, and sometimes the absurdity, that mixes its way into our communities and our lives down here.

This is a true adventure.
How many of us ever imagined dancing in Carnival alongside Quechua and Aymara?
Or night-galloping on a horse through the firefly riddled mountainside?
Or drinking tea and laughing with a little old lady who’s never left her pueblo and asks you, “how long to your country on horseback?”
Or having a curandero spit and blow smoke on your back while chanting in a native tongue to cure a spider bite?
Or simply just sitting up late at night underneath stars that gleam from a seemingly virgin sky?

This is a true adventure.
We stay here so much longer than just the initial dazzle.
We stay here to live and to learn and to help, not just as passive observers, but as members of the communities in which we serve.
We stay here long enough to know what it’s like for an initial annoying laugh to turn into a full-blown frustration.
We also stay here long enough to learn how to work with, or around, that frustration in order to get done what needs to be done.

I guess that’s why they call this kind of work development.

Development…day to day work…through both successes and failures.
Development…2 years of it now coming to a crescendo.

Coming close to the end oftentimes makes one look back to the beginning.

I think back onto various conversations I had before coming down here.

Some of them with those who were so supportive as to the courage and effort it took to take on this service.

Others with those who were absolutely convinced that Peace Corps Volunteers were merely lost souls determined to float around for two years in a place where they could escape both reality and responsibility.

One statement remains clear in my mind:

“What’s wrong with you? You’re just going down there to sit on a hammock and write poetry. Why don’t you stay in your own damn country and get a real job?"

Anyways, I laugh when I think, “if only he could see me now,” sitting here swaying on this hammock, shit-stained from the chickens that nest above in the now leafless tree that carries the name “Paradise;” trying to enjoy a slow rock despite the frigid wind and frenzied flurry of flesh biting bugs. Sitting here, having worked my skin into leather over these last two years by diving into a foreign culture and a foreign community while plunging into projects regardless of uncertainty, oddity, and doubt.

Yes, this is me, a Peace Corps Volunteer, sitting on a hammock and writing a poem.

Full after two years in the Bolivian countryside.
Respectful of what I’ve learned.
Fiercely proud of my work and my effort.
Hopeful for the future of Bolivia.
And full of respect for my fellow volunteers and the sacrifices they make.

I’d love to see some of those same skeptics keep quiet long enough to come down here and “escape” to “the easy life” and live “free of responsibility.” I’d like to see them work to be productive while enduring a parasite infested stomach and a community that thinks they’re spies.

We’re not just Peace Corps Volunteers…we’re development workers who strive for adventure.

We’re adventurers who both thrive and struggle through the entirety of an experience that could never be explained, but rather only lived.

The toughest job you’ll ever love…sure.
The toughest job you’ll ever respect…absolutely!

All my respect to all of you!

To those who are just beginning…go for it; it’s so damn worth it!

To those of you who are now neck deep in development…keep going, and don’t lose hope. Whatever it is, it will happen if you keep going; and if it doesn’t, at least that failure won’t ever result from a lack of effort on your part.

To my fellow group, the 19 of us who came down here together…well done, right on, and Godspeed! Here’s to successfully closing Chapter Peace Corps; and here’s to opening the next chapter into whatever it is that your heart desires.

You deserve to be proud!
Yippee kai yeah motha….!

To all the volunteers out there: respect given to all of you for your sacrifice and your wanderlust spirit.

Respect given to all of you for being here, living the adventure that most sit back at home pondering about. One thing that is absolutely absolute about the life down here: although this experience may travel up and down, left and right, over and under, around and even through, one thing that it has never and will never be…is boring.

What if…No.

What is!

Hasta luego amigos. ¡Que les vayan mas que bien!