September 18,
2008
The Reality of a Dream
1977. That was the year I first expressed a desire to become a Peace
Corps Volunteer. 2008. I AM A VOLUNTEER!!! I’m tempted to write all the
platitudes that come to mind, like, patience is a virtue, and good things come
to those who wait, but I won’t. Instead, I’ll simply say it feels great to live
the realization of a long-held dream.
I experienced more emotions today than any day in my memory. This morning: sadness and loss. I followed my usual morning ritual, but as I sat at the breakfast table with Aijan, neither of us spoke a word. There was no need. We both knew that when I walked out of the house, I was not coming home this evening. As I made my way down the dirt lane on my way to the marshrutka, I glanced over my shoulder. My host mother and Aijan were both standing outside the gate watching me. I waved and the first tears of the day streamed down my cheeks.
Mid-morning: anticipation, excitement. I waited excitedly for my counterpart from the university. I had so many questions about my assignment, my classes and the university. All left unanswered because she didn’t show. Instead, she sent a first year teacher because as head of the department, she wouldn’t have time to team teach. How exciting can this get? A new volunteer and a first year teacher (fresh out of college, I may add). I can’t wait!
Mid-afternoon: pride, relief and a deeper sadness. The swearing-in ceremony began at 2pm. After some singing and dancing, performed by what is a seemingly endless supply of local talent, we took the stage. Sitting in my chair, gazing at the mostly filled auditorium, it finally hit me that I was about to accomplish something special. I was proud to have survived traveling halfway around the world, a bout of illness I thought was going to kill me, learning a new language and adapting to a new culture. And after the new U.S. Ambassador to Kyrgyzstan swore us in, the pride was joined by a sense of relief. No more training; I could begin my job. We attended a short reception after the ceremony and then were driven to our hotel where we’d be staying until leaving for our permanent sites the next morning. Before I left, though, a difficult task lay before me. I had to say good-bye to my host mother and Aijan. It’s difficult to explain just how much this family means to me, so I won’t even try. Suffice it to say that I will visit them every opportunity I have over the next two years.
This evening we attended an outdoor reception at the Ambassador’s residence. Let me just say that this looks like a pretty nifty gig what with the huge house, indoor pool and enough security to defend a small country. Tomorrow morning my counterpart and I hop into a taxi and head off to begin what promises to be an adventure-filled two years. Of all the challenges I’ve undertaken in my life, this could be the best one yet. Stay tuned.
I experienced more emotions today than any day in my memory. This morning: sadness and loss. I followed my usual morning ritual, but as I sat at the breakfast table with Aijan, neither of us spoke a word. There was no need. We both knew that when I walked out of the house, I was not coming home this evening. As I made my way down the dirt lane on my way to the marshrutka, I glanced over my shoulder. My host mother and Aijan were both standing outside the gate watching me. I waved and the first tears of the day streamed down my cheeks.
Mid-morning: anticipation, excitement. I waited excitedly for my counterpart from the university. I had so many questions about my assignment, my classes and the university. All left unanswered because she didn’t show. Instead, she sent a first year teacher because as head of the department, she wouldn’t have time to team teach. How exciting can this get? A new volunteer and a first year teacher (fresh out of college, I may add). I can’t wait!
Mid-afternoon: pride, relief and a deeper sadness. The swearing-in ceremony began at 2pm. After some singing and dancing, performed by what is a seemingly endless supply of local talent, we took the stage. Sitting in my chair, gazing at the mostly filled auditorium, it finally hit me that I was about to accomplish something special. I was proud to have survived traveling halfway around the world, a bout of illness I thought was going to kill me, learning a new language and adapting to a new culture. And after the new U.S. Ambassador to Kyrgyzstan swore us in, the pride was joined by a sense of relief. No more training; I could begin my job. We attended a short reception after the ceremony and then were driven to our hotel where we’d be staying until leaving for our permanent sites the next morning. Before I left, though, a difficult task lay before me. I had to say good-bye to my host mother and Aijan. It’s difficult to explain just how much this family means to me, so I won’t even try. Suffice it to say that I will visit them every opportunity I have over the next two years.
This evening we attended an outdoor reception at the Ambassador’s residence. Let me just say that this looks like a pretty nifty gig what with the huge house, indoor pool and enough security to defend a small country. Tomorrow morning my counterpart and I hop into a taxi and head off to begin what promises to be an adventure-filled two years. Of all the challenges I’ve undertaken in my life, this could be the best one yet. Stay tuned.
There is
little to expound on with this email. ‘You had to be there’ says it all. I
don’t mean to belittle what this day meant to the young Volunteers, but I’m
certain the ceremony touched me more deeply. Hell, I'd wanted to be a PCV longer than most of them had been alive.
I learned later on through
discussions with many of them that they joined the Peace Corps for several
reasons; as a way to kick-start their career, an adventure in a foreign
country, and because they couldn’t find a job in their field. Valid reasons
all, but none that would make them feel as proud about the accomplishment as I
did.
Also in the book, making my first connection to aid me in my secondary projects and seeing my training family again.
