So what does it mean to be a Peace Corps Volunteer?
Or more simply, what on earth are we doing here and is it worth it?
Us volunteers, and myself definitely included, spend more time than we should thinking about these questions. Why? In my mind it is because these questions rise naturally out of the difficult clash between our idealism and the realities of life. We arrive with big ideas and big plans for all the change we are going to make, and even though most of us knew coming in that these dreams were just that, we hold onto them. Then, life sets in. Many of the development problems we face are much much bigger than we are, and even though we knew this would happen it comes as a shock. We have to deal with it, and so myself and many other volunteers I’ve spoken with ask this big four word question: ‘is it worth it?’
Is it?
I am in Peru because of the goodwill, or at least the money, of the American people; and I am here chasing an abstract ideal of service and trying to discover through action what it means to live one’s life. I am here because I believe I am blessed and my ideals will not permit me to pass through life without trying to pass this blessing on to others. I am here because I want to grow as a person. I am here because I want to, in some small way, positively influence the course of mankind, or at least a few lives. I am here because I believe that we as human beings have the power to collectively create the kind of world we want to live in. I am here to give of myself because I don’t know if anything else is worth doing.
But will I really make a difference here? Is it even important to make a difference so long as I try?
At this point in service, as I am ending my diagnostic and preparing to begin projects, these are the questions that keep me up at night. Sometimes, I imagine turning my community into the community of my most wildly successful Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) dreams. In this community we have built landfills and throw away our trash. We recycle our recyclables and compost our organics. We plant native trees that build the soil and benefit the local environment, and we have parents teaching their children how to eat healthy and always wash hands and brush their teeth. The children who have attended my classes have higher self-esteem and hopefully some skills like typing and interviewing that help them find reasonably paying jobs outside of their communities so that they can follow their aspirations. Some kids would read more because of a book club I started. A few will have conversational English. And in my wildest wildest dreams one or two of my students have found their way to college.
And then I think of the problems that would still remain even in this best of all worlds. The schools would still not prepare students properly to think on their own and aspirations would still be rare and difficult to maintain. Unless I had miraculously managed to curb the alcoholism in site, many children would still grow up malnourished because their father spent money on beer that could have been used to buy fruits, vegetables and occasionally meat. Opportunity and life choices would still be far-away concepts. Forms of income outside of farming would remain scarce. Life would still be difficult and as a result the people would remain fatalistic in their philosophy. The main patterns and structures that created the poverty in the first place would continue.
So is it worth it? Is it worth the dirt floors, the days without showers, the loneliness birthed out of cultural and linguistic differences, the strange diseases, and the difficulties of being so far from loved ones for such a long time?
I believe the answer is yes.
For starters, looking at this best of future, even with the problems that could continue, life seems so much better. But what I neglected to say, that I believe is tantamount to the value of my service, is that I believe I can empower some of the people, especially the young people, in my community. I believe that as I involve the community to make gains in trash management, the people here will see first-hand that they can solve problems on their own. They will see that they have control over their lives and they are responsible, at least to some degree, for shaping the reality that they experience. I like to think that when I leave there will be a few people in my wake who understand that the future is theirs to create. That they don’t need to wait for the government or some NGO to come put band-aids on their problems, but that they can solve problems on their own.
But here I go again spouting my hopes and idealism. Yet this is why I am here. I believe in people. I believe that everyone has inherent potential and I believe that much of this potential is not used and therefore wasted. This is a shame. It is a loss to society and a great loss to that individual who never had a realistic opportunity to explore his or her potential. I’m here because I believe that my being here will inspire and motivate some kid to take control of his or her life. And I want to make sure that that desire and motivation is not burned out by a lack of opportunity.
I want to help some person take control. I want to help one community learn to solve its own problems without expecting handouts. I want my presence to show people that they are worthwhile. And even if all I do is convince one child to be more than what he believed was possible; even if all I do is learn Quechua and show a community that its culture and traditions are valuable; even if I just leave friends and memories, it will all be worth it. Or so I hope ; )
Best,
Brian
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