Solidarity

Jeannine and I went to university together—we lived on the same freshman hall and had the same group of friends. And even though we both liked to play basketball, we never shot hoops together. Four years of college did not make us fast friends.

After graduation, Jeannine left for Namibia in August 2010 to serve as a teacher in the Peace Corps. I started my Peace Corps application that fall. We started emailing a bit, mere brief updates; I read her blog. While I was writing essays, she was learning Oshiwambo. When I had my interview, she was settling into her new site. Nearly two years later—when I left for Morocco last March—she was a second-year volunteer, tackling each challenge in stride.

The two-hour time difference between Namibia and Morocco meant impromptu Skype dates were a pleasant surprise. We shared stories easily. Both familiar with the workings of our organization, little needed to be contextualized. We didn’t have to rationalize or unpack our triumphs and anxieties; we shared an implicit understanding of the challenges we faced. My trajectory was an echo of her journey. The more of Peace Corps I experienced first hand, the closer I felt to her.

So last fall when Jeannine mentioned she was planning a trip across Asia with a few volunteers after their close of service, I suggested they first stop in Morocco. A sincere invitation, but not one I expected to be taken seriously—Morocco isn’t exactly en route. But during our next Skype date, Jeannine said they all hoped to come; plans quickly fell into place.

And so in January, I hosted three Returned Peace Corps Volunteers (RPCV) from Namibia: Jeannine and her friends Joe and Julie. In Foum Oudi, they participated in a Q&A with my friend Hassan translating; students asked about life in Namibia and America. We rang in the New Year in Marrakesh with other volunteers, including some on holiday from their service in Liberia. In Essaouira, we joined in on nightly jam sessions at the hostel, and they enjoyed fresh fish and stingray bought at the docks.

As volunteers, we develop strong ties with our peers; building that in-country support network is essential to a successful service. A fellow volunteer truly understands the pure delight of a care package or hot shower, the frustration from one’s inability to communicate a new idea, the tediousness of the VRF, the pride when one accomplishes a goal, even if it’s just trying out a new recipe. Talking with friends and family in the States is an equally important source of strength—time to reflect and be nostalgic must have its place. Those conversations also remind me of my capacity for success. Folks back home know what I bring to the table, but they don’t always know what dish will be served here—they’re not familiar with the main course.

Surely you can imagine then how lucky I am to have someone in my life like Jeannine—an old friend, a fellow volunteer; someone who can both reminisce and empathize with me. Not only do Jeannine and I share a fondness for South Wedge establishments and improv shows, but we now are also bound by our mutual time abroad while serving in the Peace Corps.

This sense of solidarity—the knowledge that a greater Peace Corps community exists, that somewhere else you likely know someone who has made the same choice—brings comfort. You stop second guessing your decision to stay because even days that feel like your worst are also always your best.  Because as one RPCV told me, the question isn't How many days do I have left until close of service? but What do I have to look forward to this week, this month? You set aside the fear, the anxiety, the negative attitude because you should never dread a single day—your service is your choice. Choose to live it with confidence.

For Joe Lanning (RPCV, Malawi 2000-2002), Jeannine Rider (RPCV, Namibia 2010-2012), and Rachel Odhner (PCV, Nicaragua 2012-2014).

Published March 20, 2013