In some ways being a Peace Corps Volunteer is exactly how I imagined it. I have met hilarious and wonderful children and my new community welcomed me as family. I have eaten delicious Pad Thai and tasted Thai fruit that looks like its straight out of a science fiction movie, and I have seen some of the most beautiful landscapes I have ever seen in my life.
However, in a lot of ways these past 9 weeks have been nothing like I anticipated. Before venturing out on my own no one told me how often I would think about giving up and going home. My first week at site every morning I woke up and asked myself, “What am I still doing here? I have an amazing family at home, a perfect little niece, the best friends, a car.” Yet here I am waking up in the middle of nowhere Thailand and biking to an office to sit at a desk surrounded by people who essentially cannot understand me.
I would like to say these thoughts were limited to my first week, but they still regularly enter my mind. They enter my mind when I allow myself to feel isolated and different, which is not very difficult when you are almost 6 feet tall with blonde hair in an Asian country. I tried various tactics to counteract this feeling of isolation: 1.) “Remember how badly you wanted to become a Peace Corps Volunteer.” 2) “What would you be doing if you were at home?” (Occasionally I’ll think—You would be sitting outside in shorts eating an everything bagel with pepper jack cheese and avocado—which doesn’t usually help my case) or 3) “Think of how much fun you were having yesterday or this morning or an hour ago.” Typically these reminders work temporarily but eventually I find myself back in that negative mindset. Ultimately, the struggle comes down to understanding my role as a volunteer.
My role is probably still a little unclear to many of you reading this. As a Youth in Development Volunteer, my goal is to serve as the link between the local government organization (comparable to town hall), the local health clinic and the schools. Right now Thailand does not have the equivalent to the United States’ Youth Centers (i.e. Boys and Girls Club); therefore, I am essentially filling that void. My first big project will be developing the Youth Council, comprised of about three children from the surrounding 9 villages, and making sure it is self-sustaining by the time I leave in two years. At our first meeting, the Youth Council expressed interest in leading an English camp for nearby schools and cleaning up the nearby mangrove forest. Beyond the Youth Council, I will also spend a majority of my time working alongside teachers at the local schools, helping to develop more interactive ways of teaching English and leading activities that cultivate life skills such as leadership, teamwork and empathy.
This role as a facilitator to the Thai youth is what led me to accept the invitation to join the Peace Corps. However, an even larger portion of my role as a volunteer lies in the more abstract cultural exchange that takes place everyday. Everyday I learn about Thai culture, Muslim culture and Buddhist culture and everyday I share about American culture, whether directly or indirectly. Every interaction is part of the job.
While the camps and the time spent in the classroom and the Youth Council meetings provide immediate gratification for my time and effort, the majority of the substance of our work as Peace Corps volunteers is found in the everyday interactions and relationships we build. Relationships that stem from conversations such as when a student asks “Will my Muslim friend need to change his name if he wants to go to America?” or when a coworker tells me, “I am not allowed to go to America because I wear a hijab.” Finding the right words to address such heavy topics is difficult, especially when you have a limited vocabulary, and these fears cannot be addressed in one conversation. Yet, opening the door to this conversation allows for an intimacy that transcends cultural barriers.
The pace of life may be slower here and my daily conversations may still revolve around the food or the weather, but those rare moments where I find meaningful conversation are what motivate me to remain.
There will always be a pit in my stomach when I realize that I have two more years until I can be a regular presence in my niece’s life or that my friends will make countless memories without me or that two Thanksgivings will pass without me sitting beside my family at our assigned seats. However, after completing just five of my twenty-seven months, I already know that Thailand will always hold a special place in my heart. Since arriving in Thailand five months ago, I have learned to accept my fluctuating emotions rather than shoving them down, I have learned sometimes you need to put yourself first in order to truly help others, and I have learned to say no to that unappetizing, brown jelly rather than hiding it in my pocket. But most importantly I have learned to appreciate our capacity as humans to connect with one another, even if just for a moment, no matter how different our lives have been up to this point.
