The Cycle of Vulnerability

The LR3 group (third Peace Corps group in Liberia) is reaching an interesting point in our journey. We are fast approaching the swearing-in ceremony, which will see us become official Volunteers. The ceremony will mark our official status change from Trainee to Volunteer. This is very big deal, but the more significant shift will be when each of us moves to our final site assignments.

Early in training, we were presented with the “cycle of vulnerability” graph. This graph shows the general pattern of ups and downs that volunteers experience during training and service. It starts with a honeymoon period where everything is rosy. Then, during the first 1-3 months, it shows fluctuations between adjustment (positive emotions) and vulnerability (negative emotions). Feelings of euphoria are common, followed closely by depression, anger, and anxiety. Then back. Progressing on the timeline, the three-month point marks a sustained drop into the side of vulnerability. The drop lasts roughly six months.

Looking at our group, we are now entering the first major downward slide into vulnerability. There are quite a few trainees, including me, who are anxious about the move to site. Not only will be readjusting to a new city and living space, we will be leaving our fellow trainees and friends. With that, we’ll be losing easy access to our primary support system. My observation is that some of the initial excitement has started to fade and that the realities of Peace Corps are setting in. There is less energy in the air, and there are more people experiencing “WAWA” days (West Africa Wins Again). Being at site a few days last week was an exciting and frightening experience. We got to see our towns and houses, and we got to see the actual challenges that each of us will face. We will be alone. We will have to take care of ourselves, feed ourselves, and maintain a home by ourselves. We will have to start from zero in the community. This is a little scary, and I think it is having an effect on the group.

The good news is that these experiences are normal. This is a great comfort, at least to me. I personally feel much better knowing that others have also experienced the occasional wave of despair, anger, and frustration. Looking ahead, at approximately month nine, the Cycle shows a prolonged upswing as volunteers adjust to their towns, schools, and new ways of living. The volunteer will have established a routine, integrated into the community, and gained teaching experience. We have that to look forward to.

Just to complete the Cycle for you, another downswing happens at the 12-14 month mark. At this time, volunteers are finishing the first year and are evaluating whether they have the energy and commitment to do another year. This may be more pronounced for teachers, as they have just finished one school year and will have another academic year looming on the horizon. But the downswing doesn’t last long – only a month or two. Then, there is a prolonged adjustment phase lasting nearly a year, where the volunteer gets back into a routine and begins seeing results of long-term projects. This phase last almost to the end of the volunteer’s service. Finally, nearing the end of service, there is a downturn as volunteers begin worrying about the move back to “normal” life in the US. There are concerns about careers, further schooling, and just readjusting back to a “foreign” US culture.

As for now, we look forward to Friday, when we will meet Liberia’s president, Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf, and be sworn in as official volunteers. That will be a happy and proud day for all of us. And if the next day is a challenging one, we can take comfort that each of us will learn to adjust and overcome the challenges in our own unique way.

Trash: What to do with it?

In a country with so little infrastructure, things such as waste management aren’t at the forefront of the national mind. Everywhere you look, there is trash – trash in the form of household garbage, industrial scraps, broken-down cars, and, sometimes, human waste. Some potentially-lovely scenes are spoiled by the litter. It’s a sad reality in a place there exist no garbage cans, dumpsters, or garbage trucks. Instead, the trash accumulates until it reaches a size or age when it can be burned. Someone, most likely the person responsible for that swath of land, comes along, lights the pile, and leaves it to burn. Then the smoke begins – the blue, steely, oily smoke of burning plastics. The smell of burning trash is one of the characteristic smells of Liberia. The air is otherwise fresh and clear. And because the human sense of smell can detect smoke 1,000 better than other smells, it can be distracting. I’ve often awoken to the smell of smoke wafting in through my bedroom window, only to find a small fire burning only feet from the house.

Thus, we have been met with the dilemma of how to handle the trash that we inevitably create. One can choose to hold onto each piece of trash, carefully pocketing it to dispose of later. But one never reaches a place where trash is supposed to go. There’s simply no “right” place to put it. So you look at the piece of trash in your hand, and you look at the hundreds of piece of trash on the ground. Then you look back at the trash in your hand and think of the guilt you would feel if you dropped it. Then you look back at the ground and watch the trash – your trash – fall and disappear into anonymity.

Bathing Under the Banana Tree

 

 

 

 

 

 

This past weekend, all the trainees embarked on the “Village Advenutre.” All 35 of us, plus staff and current volunteers hopped on a bus and headed out to the bush to experience a taste of village life.

Upon arrival, we were greeted by a group of young men playing drums and singing traditional African songs. The townspeople swarmed. Large groups of children stared. Old men tried our skills with the local language. We were welcomed and greeted by many friendly people.

After our initial reception, we were formally welcomed by the village elders. After, each trainee stood, greeted the group In a local Liberian dialect, and told the town our assigned site. Everyone was very excited and welcoming. After the reception, we were treated to a traditional Liberia meal of potato greens, chicken, and rice. More music and dancing followed, provided by acrobats costumed in grass skirts, facepaint, and woven headdresses.

Later in the afternoon, the Peace Corps group formed into a motley crew football (soccer) team to take on the local village team. Amazingly, the game ended in a tie. The Peace Corps has some innate soccer ability.

For the night, each trainee was assigned to a host family. Angie and I were assigned to the same family – Pa was a teacher at the local junior high, ma was a kindergarten teacher, principal, and pastor. They had five children living with them. There house was a typical village style – brick and plaster walls, tin roof, and woven bamboo ceilings. Cooking was done on a coal pot in a communal area. Six bedrooms ran the length of each side of the house. Every door locks from the inside. After dark, all bedroom doors are locked for maximum security. We stayed in one of the kids’ rooms and slept in our mosquito net. The family were good hosts and we enjoyed our time chatting and walking around the village.

Our arrival at the house was interesting. We sat and chatted for about five minutes with the family. Then, hot water was poured into buckets and we were told where we could bathe. Angie and I had heard stories of volunteers being pressured by their hosts into bathing. We were each given a lappa (piece of fabric) to wrap up in, a towel, and a bucket. We were led outside and around back of the house to a tin-and-bamboo lean-to that was about five feet wide and five feet tall. Sheets of tin roofing comprised the walls, but the perimeter was riddled with gaps and holes up to one foot in width. We hung up our lappas to achieve some added privacy, but our proximity to the main road (60 feet) and other houses made a fairly public display. No one seemed to be watching, but people were definitely around.

A bath in Liberia is called a bucket bath. It works like so: cold water is put into a 2.5-gallon bucket. Sometimes warm water from the fire is added to take the chill off. The bather then finds a (semi)-private place to wash. The bather disrobes. A pint-sized cup is used to scoop water from the bucket and poured over the head and body. One pint cup of water can basically wet the entire body. Soap is then applied to hair and body and scrubbing takes place. Water is then applied until suds are rinsed effectively. This usually takes 2-3 more scoops of water. The whole process, though intimidating at first, is not unpleasant and works reasonably well. The cold water is refreshing in the heat, and is a good pick-me-up in the morning.

We have bathed like this for a month now (one month in Africa!), on this particular instance, we looked up to see that were bathing right under a large bunch of ripening plantains. It was a unique moment on a memorable trip into the rural side of Africa.

Later that night, while walking in the village, I talked to a man who knew my host brother. The man was an English professor at the local school. I told him that my wife was also in Africa and that she would also be teaching English. He casually responded, “Oh yes, I saw the two of you bathing.” All I could think to say was, “Yep, that was her.” So much for introductions.

Official Site Assignment

Today, in celebration of American Independence Day, the PC Liberia staff decided to give us trainees the news we have been craving for weeks – our official site assignment!

There has been much speculation and deductive reasoning to figure out who was going where. The main indicator has been the local tribal dialect that each of us were assigned. Being assigned to a language group provides a great clue in the mystery. Since languages are regional, knowing that you will learn the Bassa language tells you that you will be in Grand Bassa County. This was the case for Angie and me.

Angie and I have have a pretty good idea of where we were going, but others in the group weren’t as sure. Some areas of the country will host several volunteers and have large language groups. Other areas will host few people. Again, we were assigned to the Bassa language. Grand Bassa county, where Bassa is spoken, is host to three volunteers. One site has two volunteer spots and one site has one. It wasn’t hard for teh three of us learning Bassa to figure out where we were going. Since Angie and I are a couple, we deduced that we would get the double-spot. Sure enough.

Angie and I will be living for the next two years (starting in early August) in Grand Bassa County, Liberia!

Our site assignment is a large city located 2-3 hours south of Monrovia, right on the coast. It’s a city on the sea. We have ocean breezes, beaches, and fresh seafood to look forward to. In addition, we have heard the school there is functioning well, the volunteer hous is nice, and there are good opportunities for us to do some interesting things with our time outside the classroom. We are really excited. We hope to host visiting volunteers from around Liberia and West Africa.

The ceremony to tell us our final site assignments was really fun. The staff had created a large map of Liberia on the lawn. At each volunteer site, they had placed a plate with the name of the site. Since there had been so much speculation about site assignments, we started by going to where we thought we were going. Then, we each put on a blindfold and were led by hand to our final assignment. We all stood around awkwardly, trying to sense where we could be in the country. At a given moment, we all removed our blindfolds and got to see where we are assigned, who we are roommates with (obvious for Angie and me), and who we are nearby. It was a scene of some surprise, maybe a touch of disappointment for some, but mostly wonder and excitement at the new possibilities.

Angie and I are excited abput our new assignment, house, and city. In early August, we will move on to our new lives as official volunteers!