IST. Defined: In-Service Training; occurs approximately three months after arriving at one’s permanent site. Example: my cohort arrived at our permanent sites in September, so our IST happened at the end of November through the beginning of December.
Getting to IST is a big deal in the life of a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV). It’s a big deal because the first few months at permanent site can be one of the hardest times during a PCV’s service. Sure, there is lots of excitement because of finally getting to the place where one is going to serve the community, meeting the people who are going to be served, and seeing where one is going to spend the rest of her/his service. With the excitement comes a lot of hardship as well: isolation, loneliness, loss, and feeling overwhelmed.
To make this post more personal: I have felt all of the things mentioned above and more. Initially arriving to my permanent site, I was excited to be here. I had an image of what it looked like to serve as a PCV, and seeing my new home fit the image almost perfectly. I was in a remote part of the country, surrounded by people who were very curious about my presence, grappling with a new language, and volunteering in a school. Having moved a few times while I lived in the US, I was accustomed to a feeling of “newness” that comes during the first few months. However, there were unique factors influencing my integration. I understood conceptually what these news factors would mean for me, but to live them has been a whole other experience.
For example, one factor was the constant attention I received. Living in a remote part of South Africa meant that people weren’t used to seeing a white guy walking around their village. Often, I would hear people call out to me to get my attention; often, using a slang term that is derogatory (I don’t believe there was any malicious intent, but I do believe there was ignorance with the use of the word). What was even more surprising for people was my ability to speak isiZulu. Keeping in mind that my language ability isn’t all that strong, but I do know greetings and introductions and I can make basic conversation. I learned that by introducing myself I heard the slang term less often.
Another example, and one that conflicts with the example above, is my shopping town. My shopping town lies on a road that is travelled frequently by passing tourists. Because of the tourists, there are a few businesses in town that cater to them. It’s a weird contrast because there are large sections of the town and surrounding villages that live under conditions of poverty. And then there are these shops that contain items that cost the same amount as a week’s worth of groceries for two people (at least based on what Michelle and I eat). When I’m in town, I receive little attention, which is great in some respect, but it’s also alarming when I do because it’s often negative. Usually it’s someone asking me to give them money. This experience isn’t uncommon for PCVs. What I find difficult about it is that people in town think I’m a tourist passing through. They don’t see me as someone who lives there. This experience makes me feel separated from the community; that I don’t belong.
I haven’t only felt negatively since arriving to my permanent site. If anything, I feel like I have been on a rollercoaster of emotions because I have also felt happy, content, grateful, and humble. I’m happy because of the welcoming and warmth I have been shown by my host family and the educators at my school. I feel grateful for many reasons; one of which from the simple fact that I am able to serve as a PCV. Throughout the application process, I learned that it takes a certain level of economic ability to even serve as a volunteer. As someone with debt from college loans, I’m grateful that I was able to get deferments and to save enough money to continue paying one of the loans so I could be here. I’m also grateful that I’m able to WhatsApp with family and friends back home. And I am humbled by the generosity I have been given by so many people here in South Africa. For example, one of the educators at my school ensures that I have a ride home from school despite that fact that I have told him that I’m okay walking. To him, it would be a shame for me to walk when he has a car. What’s more, he has to drive in the opposite direction of his home in order for me to get to mine.
Like I mentioned above, I’m not new to settling into a new place, but I am new at settling into a country. I am excited, and anxious, to see what the next few months hold for me. And I look forward to it. Part of becoming a volunteer was knowing that this experience wasn’t going to be easy. Life wouldn’t be as interesting if it was.
Joe,
ReplyDeleteI have, on several occasions in my life, experienced culture shock similar to what you describe. My experiences, however, pale in scale to yours. Being out, on your own, with only Michelle and a small cohort of volunteers with whom you feel comfortable enough with to share feelings, concerns, and life experiences is quite daunting. The feelings you described are, as you know, very normal. What makes you and Michelle special is your inner strength. A confidence that no challenge is insurmountable. You rightly identified the use of a derogatory, slang term used to get your attention as “ignorance”. I grew up in that kind of environment. People where you are, are no different from those here in the US. We all respond to stimuli based on previous experience (i.e. it was okay yesterday, it should be okay today). With each new experience we learn new, and hopefully, better ways to respond. The persons you described didn’t expect you to understand what they said, perhaps next time they will be more careful what words they choose to use. In his book “Healing Hands”, Dr. Ben Carson recounts several occasions where, after being appointed Chief of Pediatric Neurosurgery at Johns Hopkins, he would enter a room or a ward and nurses and patients would mistake him for an orderly. He writes; [Many parents brought very sick children to our pediatric neurosurgery unit, often traveling great distances. When I walked into the room, more than once a parent looked up and asked, “When is Dr. Carson coming?”. “He’s already here,” I’d answer and smile “I’m Dr. Carson.”] He didn’t take offense because he understood that (1) there were very few black doctors at Johns Hopkins, let alone department heads, and (2) He was only 33 years old. Rather he found humor in it, he didn’t automatically assume people meant any harm. They were, as I said, responding as they always had, with no malicious intent. He was confident in who he was despite how other people might perceive him.
You too possess this confidence. You must know/remember that what you are doing will, to some degree, help the people you teach, work with, and encounter. Walk with confidence and treat others with humility.
God Bless
Thanks for sharing, Joe. Your perspective is both a helpful reminder of the privileges I walk around with, as well as positive reminder of the value to stop and reflect on challenges and successes we face in our communities and within ourselves. It reminds me I need to do more comprehensive reflection to ensure personal growth beyond work-based/professional growth.
ReplyDeleteThanks, as always, for the insight and sharing :)