
Folders brim with paperwork calling to be written and submitted. French radio blares at me, taunting me with the language I thought I knew (and desperately need to know soon). A pile of book titles call to me So You Want to Join the Peace Corps: What to Know Before You Go, The Bold Experiment: JFK's Peace Corps, Come As You Are: The Peace Corps Story. A blank screen stares at me filled with goals to be submitted, my aspirations, my professional goals, my strategies. My mind is murky. My answers seem vague, idealistic, pat. Suddenly this does seem like a vast experiment- a gallivant into the unknown so I may feel challenged, adventurous, and independent. What are my real motives?
Stopped before I even begin, I set my essay aside and open the memoir I picked up of a Peace Corps volunteer in Côte d'Ivoire, the country south of Burkina Faso. I am immediately pulled in by the tentative observer's voice and the beauty she describes. As I read my heartbeat quickens; I can immediately smell the dirt and feel the rush of the African rain as I read. I am transported to memories of two years ago in Tanzania. I am aware of how distanced I was from real life and real culture in my study abroad program. The author's voice becomes what could be my own, as I am shocked and a bit concerned about the prospects of witnessing a live birth, eating bushrat soup,and teaching AIDS prevention with props. Yet the people in her village emerge vividly from her pages and capture my heart. Will I make friendships such as these? Will be able to understand village politics and relationships the way she does? Will I watch as an undernourished child is neglected by his mother, given up as a lost cause? Will I witness death and life play out before my eyes? Perhaps I will find more than I even bargained for, more than I expect, and certainly more than my small scope of goals and expectations encompass.
I return to the page of my aspiration statement, a bit awed and inspired anew of the scope of the project to which I have committed.
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