Many years ago back in the salad days of my youth, I joined the Peace Corps. I didn't join because I had starry-eyed notions of world peace or a deep-rooted need to help the poor. Sorry if that offends you. The Peace Corps doesn't actually want people who are too idealistic. When reality hits, and it will with a vengeance when you are sitting in a hut somewhere with no electricity or running water, fighting off insects the size of small birds, and nursing a fever or a wound that refuses to heal, the idealists are the first to cry out, "get me the hell out of here!" So it helps to be motivated by some self-interest. In my case, I wanted to travel and see the world a little bit. I figured it would look good on my future resume and set me apart from the rest of the pack.
I made the decision during the last quarter of my senior year at UCLA. I was an English major, it was 1982, and I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do after college. So, I joined the Peace Corps and got sent to Liberia the following December. I became a high school English teacher in a small-sized town in the northernmost part of the country, along the border with Sierra Leone.
For two years I lived in a small house made of mud bricks with a tin roof. During the rainy season it was really noisy. I had electricity at night, usually. I had a small refrigerator and was able to keep a few things in it (and away from any bugs) and as long as I didn't open it much during the day, it kept the food cold.
I taught four classes of 9 - 12th graders and over the two years I was there, I had many great experiences, a few bad ones, and met many wonderful people. I traveled to Ivory Coast, Mali, Burkina Faso, and Sierra Leone. I got malaria, twice.
When my time was nearing an end, the people in my town knew I was going to be leaving soon. Several people came to me, and offered me their children. I'm sure some of you might read this and think, "Wow! That's awful! Who would give up their kid like that?" I can assure you they did it because they loved their children so much, and knew that life in America was so much better than their life in Liberia, that they would willingly (and sadly) give their child to a silly American girl. They had more faith in the American dream than the typical annoying college student who wants to Occupy Wall Street and demands someone else pay off her student loans.
Of course, I declined the offers.
When I got back to the States, I was in a fog for a few months because of all the choices that were available to me again. From the grocery store to a department store, to restaurants, to museums and libraries, it was glorious! Being away from all the conveniences of life made some of my fellow RPCVs (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers) contemptuous of America. For me, I remember walking around thanking my lucky stars that I lived in a such a great country.
Which is why I have a hard time when I hear certain people (who are abundant in this part of California) wax poetic about reducing their carbon footprints, growing what they eat, recycling everything, becoming vegans, and so forth. I've seen this life, up close, and there is nothing romantic about it. Just ask the people currently suffering without electricity in the New York area. An hour might be charming. A day becomes really irritating. Weeks without electricity and clean water breed desperation and anger.
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