“Continuing is everything.”
I’m reading a book right now entitled A Different Kind of Luxury: Japanese Lessons in Simple Living and Inner Abundance, written by my uncle, Andy Couturier. It contains 11 portraits of Japanese men and women living in remote mountain communities, “attempting to live sustainable, fulfilling lives”. They are presented in contrast to the tumult of modern-day Japanese corporate and consumer culture, and, more widely, to corporate and consumer culture the world over. I’ve just finished the chapter on Kogan Murata, a “bamboo flute player, storyteller, rice farmer and student of Zen”, and this Zen-inspired quote struck a chord in me. I am loving the book, so far, I think because the ideas of mindfulness, creativity, along with what really makes up that slippery term ‘sustainability’, are issues that I now face as a volunteer in Peru with the Peace Corps. Furthermore, if you crack the surface of most volunteers here, I think a lot of us would admit that part of the reason we are here is to explore the very notion of how to live a meaningful life, by viewing the lives of people in another culture with vastly different lifestyles and value systems, and by living in rural communities where we can get away from the constant, addictive connection that most of us have become accustomed to in the United States. Further, I think a lot of us, when pressed, would say that we’re also interested in the BIG question: Why are we here? What is the purpose for our lives on this planet?
In my case, I’m beginning to feel that helping other people, connecting with other people, allowing myself to break down the walls between “me” and “the other”, is something fundamental to my being … something that makes me come alive.
That said, there is a lot of unnecessary pressure in the Peace Corps that makes it easy to lose sight of some of the deeper, soulful elements of the work that we do. I’m talking, mainly, about the pressure to show concrete numbers: numbers of people whose lives we’ve changed, who have been given better access to potable water, who have shown some tangible behavioral change in regard to waste management (just to name a few of the focal points). Being the sprawling government-run organization that it is, these numbers are what keep the money coming in. These numbers are what speak to the bureaucrats in Lima and Washington who review our work. I know this.
I know, deep down, that those ‘numbers’ are well-intentioned, but my sense is that the bureaucrats have gotten a bit carried away and confused by all of it over the years. The numbers are supposed to flow from our slow-paced, well-intentioned lives in the villages and cities where we operate—they’re not supposed to direct it. Yet that’s the very aspect of Peace Corps service that I’ve found most frustrating to-date: the entire organization seems hell-bent on increasing the “numbers” of everything that we do, from activities to the number of volunteers present in-country, regardless of whether the necessary staff and other prerequisites are in place to grow effectively. Where activities are concerned, there are a multitude of “initiatives” that the Peace Corps would like us to work on (all, again, well-intentioned and important), from HIV-AIDS work to children and youth development, to technology and mass communications, to environmental management and everything that falls under the umbrella of “community health”. Yet these initiatives are piled on, and expressed in such a way that I think a lot of volunteers end up suffering from a heavy-duty case of overwhelm. As far as volunteers are concerned, Peace Corps Peru is set to almost double the number of volunteers in-country over the course of the next two years, when the truth is that the current 170-180 volunteers currently serving do not have adequate security and administration staff backing them up (as I see it).
For example, there is currently an excellent one-man security staff in Peru, who is tasked with handling all of the volunteers’ security concerns, which can be anything from petty theft to armed attacks and even, in rare cases, sexual assault. He is a wonderful human being—at once jovial and tough, an expert in his field—and he does his job as well as one man can … yet he’s just one man, and sometimes his response time is not what it should be. He cannot be everywhere at once in a country this big, and the problem will only magnify if the number of volunteers continues to grow. I’ve heard many complaints about volunteer site placement and volunteer security issues that seem to go unanswered. He needs a team.
Another example is that of the program directors—the heads of the five different program groups operating in Peru (small business, youth development, water and sanitation, health and environmental management). Quite often the only communication we volunteers get from our program directors are “check-up” emails every month or two, stressing the things they’d like for us to get done. There’s no regular back-and-forth, no mentoring, no nurturing of the process that Peace Corps supposedly espouses: relationship building, community activism, sustainable development. What’s more, those emails often take the tone of business memos, reminding the company’s employees of what’s expected of them. The simple truth, I believe, is that there are certain deeply ingrained aspects of Peruvian business culture that enforce a strict hierarchy of positions among large organizations, perhaps even more so than what you find in large US companies. If you’re in a position of authority, you’re trained to relate to those under you in a certain authoritative manner. Anything less than that is outside the realm of your experience. Accordingly, a large portion of the program directors and upper-level management are Peruvian, and I think they often view us volunteers as spoiled rich kids that are away on some extended summer camp. We are often policed and watched suspiciously, rather than treated with the respect and esteem we deserve as volunteers serving under the auspices of a humanitarian development organization. And that’s the trouble: we volunteers make up a wide range of ages, ethnicities, backgrounds, and professions, yet we’ve all come together to be a part of an organization that we think is worthwhile. We receive very little money while we’re here, often living in very basic housing conditions, and we do it because we believe in the idea of the Peace Corps, and in the idealism of the Peace Corps. Any attempt to generalize about our members is bound to distort that reality.
To be sure, there are some volunteers who do nothing to dispel the “spoiled, bad-apple” image, partying too much and just generally goofing around throughout their two years of service. Yet I believe these cases are few and far between, and do no warrant the type of hard-line managerial style that manifests itself in the organization. The rest of us are trying as hard as we can, stressing out about our language skills, how we spend the hours of each day, how we structure the meetings and workshops that we run. One of the true joys of service so far, for me, has been the chance to meet and work alongside the rest of the hard-working and incredibly determined volunteers serving in this country. Before this, I never had a real idea of the types of people who do this kind of work. Now, I count them among my friends and my mentors in this two-year journey we’re all on. There is a real spirit of camaraderie and respect. In my case, not being able to communicate very well in Spanish has been a huge hindrance, one that causes me to brow-beat myself for my inability to pick up the intricacies of Spanish a bit more quickly. Likewise, I’ve often been someone who excels at one-on-one relationships, and I communicate very effectively amongst small crowds (in English). Speaking and organizing large groups has never been my forte, and so when I attempt to do so, in Spanish, I often feel very, very inadequate. Yet I am trying, harder than I’ve ever tried at anything in my life, and one thing that would take some weight off of my shoulders would be a more supportive, proactive Peace Corps management. Some of us have been lectured several times in recent weeks about the importance of sticking to the “spirit” of the Peace Corp’s rules, when the truth is that we’ve given two years of our lives to that spirit. We all believe in the mission, otherwise we wouldn’t be here. We deserve the benefit of the doubt, I would argue, unequivocally. Peace Corps has a long and in-depth selection process for a reason—the managers ought to trust that the people who make it through, who survive the three-months of training and the lengthy vetting process that precedes it, are a good bunch. If they do not trust that the selection process brings in only the finest volunteers, then they ought to make changes at the source.
So. “Continuing is everything” is a good message to hear, with “everything” being the active word: continuing is not just the most important or integral part of our service here—it is the only part, the only thing that should occupy your mind. Continuing, in my own way, is all I should concern myself with. Waking up, trying to start each day aware of how special this opportunity is, and going about my activities in an earnest and open-hearted fashion … that’s it. That’s the whole of it.
And so I’ll “continue to continue”, as that old Simon and Garfunkel song goes, in the hopes that as time goes by, as I near and then pass my one-year anniversary in my site, I’ll gradually live my way into an effective service here. I have indeed been making progress, albeit slowly, and I believe I’ve been getting better at treating myself more fairly: no more self-criticism when things don’t happen and when people don’t show up for meetings or events. From here, I just want to constantly ask myself: How can I live in a more earnest fashion here? As this new year in Peru approaches, I want to continue to do art projects with the children and teens in my town—that’s a lot of fun for me, and I believe it will give those kids lasting memories of my time with them, along with some fun moments (I hope). I want to continue trying to organize a sustainable trash-management system in my town, and, if all goes well, extend the system to cover the three closest neighboring towns as well. At present, that system is not operating very effectively, but hey, there is a trash truck coming once a week (usually), and that didn’t used to be the case. Likewise, there are about 10 women who give their time to walk around each week picking up other people’s trash and doing what they can to get rid of the waste that contaminates their families’ food and drinking water. I keep stumbling through various reincarnations of our trash management program, and the same 10 women keep sticking by my side. My hope is that one of my efforts will bear fruit, even if it takes me the whole of my two years of service. But above all else, I want to continue learning from the people here, learning about what makes their lives tick, learning patience and respect for worldviews that are different than mine. That’s a very valuable aspect of Peace Corps service, as I see it, and one which trains the lot of us to be thoughtful, valuable members of US society when we return home.
In closing, I would just like to clarify that I do not mean this as an attack or a put-down of Peace Corps’ worldwide efforts (since I have no idea how much any of this translates to other countries), or of Peace Corps Peru. In writing this, I’m trying to give voice to my belief that constructive criticism on the part of an organization’s members is the most valuable tool that an organization has in order to grow and improve its services. My worry, of late, has been that Peace Corps Peru is growing too big to self-correct, too big to listen to its members, too big to adapt to this present moment in the dynamic ways that would make its mission more effective. I believe it is my duty, as a current volunteer, to do what I can to see that the whole is as earnest—and considerate—as the sum of its parts.
