“The idea was always there, in its infancy
The seed took root, over many years
An idea crawls, before it walks
And as it walks, it learns to run
And as it runs, it fears its fall
The waterfall, can it be stopped?”
“In Its Infancy (The Waterfall)” - My Morning Jacket
For some of us poor bastards out there, falling asleep every night is a bit of a struggle. I would liken it to a nightly fight with the subconscious of the mind. There are two contradicting motivations at play: After being boxed in all day by the constraints of responsibility and reality, the mind wants the freedom to roam, and you, as the steward of your consciousness, want very much to slow it down and shut it off. There are a lot of strategies to winning the fight, but one exceptionally basic thing must happen if you want to win. You have to at the very least keep your eyes closed. Keeping your eyes closed is your last line of defense. It’s the core structure you need to keep the mind boxed in. It can roam within your structure but at least you know that within it, you can eventually stalk it, contain it, win the fight. When its the dead of night and your let your eyes open, the flood gates open, your structure is compromised. And when you stare at the ceiling, you are waving the white flag of defeat. The mind goes hog-wild. You won’t be sleeping any time soon.
It’s a particular night in late summer / early fall of 2016, and I’m waving the white flag of defeat again. Examining the ceiling for faults as my mind races. I’ve been defeated many times in these past couple months, and I know why. It’s no secret to me: The normal circuitry of my imaginative mind has been hijacked by stress. I’ve signed up to live in a foreign land for over two years - and I haven’t told a goddamn soul about it.
One thing is certain, I think to myself as I watch the shadows dance around my room, when this is over I’ll never keep secrets from my loved ones ever again. Never again.
Why Not?
I walked in to an informational Peace Corps briefing on a Thursday afternoon in June 2016. There were many bright-eyed 20-somethings in there. They were mostly junior staffers in the House and Senate, enamored with the thought of helping the world and looking to learn more about it. I took my seat, as I always did in lectures and briefings, not entirely in the back but off enough to the side to get a couple buffer seats between me and the next person. We heard from the head of Peace Corps, and a few Congressman who served back when they were younger. They all had a similar theme to their presentations, one of having your own unique story. One story was particularly profound, and even poetic - the story of Congressman Sam Farr’s experience in the Peace Corps.
To give a significantly shortened and butchered account of the Congressman’s story: As a young volunteer he was stationed in Columbia and he loved it. His dad came to visit him and brought along his two younger sisters. One day they went horse riding and his youngest sister was bucked off the horse and hit her head, sustaining a severe head injury. Since they were in an area without adequate health infrastructure, the youngest sister had to wait for care - the family, with bated breath was forced to hope for the best - until her condition became critical. A neurosurgeon, with the help of the local village literally lighting the night-time plane runway with make shift torches, arrived to the village and began to go to work on the youngest sister. But she unfortunately didn’t make it. Congressman Farr completed his service, and of course, later in his life went on to assume public office. One day, a man running for President of Columbia came into his office. It was revealed that he was the nephew of the neurosurgeon who had operated on the youngest Farr. The bond between the two men was forged, and, using it, along with a mutual love for the country of Columbia, the two worked together to bring Columbia out of its long standing civil war with rebel guerrilla groups.
And after the story was told and the briefing, nearly over, he ended with: “Find your own story. Apply and just see what happens”.
I was struck by the power of the stories I had heard, in particular Congressman Farr’s. Of course, nothing tragic has to happen to have a compelling story and life experience, and I expect to have nothing but a fun and safe time. But having an interesting experience, as everyone knows, is worth so much more than the price of admission.
I went back to my office. Another slow day, of course. The sun streamed through the window. An adventure awaited, if I had what it took to seek it out. The world beckoned. I went the Peace Corps website and got to work on my application. Why not?
Patience is a Virtue?
They warn you right off the bat that the Peace Corps application takes a long time. For instance, if you were to go to Peace Corps website right now, and apply to leave as early as they would allow, you wouldn't be on a plane until January 2018 - and that’s at the earliest. That is not even to speak of canceled programs and reassignments, which is what happened to me. After I was switched out of one program to another, I will finally leave on June 7, 2017 - a full year after I had done my original application.
Giving applicants a sizable gap between application and departure makes a good deal of sense for the Peace Corps, given that it entails a massive life change that requires a good deal of administrative legwork to put into place. It gives prospective volunteers the time they need to really consider their choice, whether it is right for them, and then get their affairs in order accordingly. But the bad part of all this, is that it gives people like me - over thinking maniacs - the time we need to really consider their choice, whether it is right for them, and get their affairs in order accordingly.
I signed up for the Peace Corps in a perfectly backwards manner. I filled out an application as a kind of dare to myself, with little intent to actually follow through with it. I didn’t want to tell anyone important to me in the beginning; in the event that I decided not to go through with it, I figured that having anyone know that I fraternized with the idea of leaving the country for two years without actually being serious about it would be seen as nothing less than a sign of insanity, or worse, total desperation. But the idea was still prevalent in my mind, so I had to tell someone. So I mostly went on to share the biggest decision I was making to the least important people in my life. Most people, right off the bat, would consider this type of decision along with their loved ones and friends. I’m pretty sure I was bouncing ideas off homeless people in the street. Their feedback didn’t have much foundation.
But the application process continued, and I slowly started coming around to the idea. I wrote an essay for my application. A few months later I did an interview. A few months later I did my legal paperwork. Then I got to work on my medical screenings. So I started telling people as it went along, starting with the easy targets and slowly moving up the chain to the more difficult and tricky ones. Friends - Close Friends - Brothers & Girlfriend - and finally the big boss herself, my own Mama.
Waiting is the Hardest Part
Telling people you care about that you are voluntarily going to be way from them in an African country for a long time is hard. But waiting to tell them is harder. In the months leading up to it, I was nothing less than entirely racked with guilt and anxiety. Many a day were ruined by many a sleepless night. I felt like I was doing something wrong, that I was betraying the people who loved me by choosing to go away from them .
But I found that after I came out with it, faced my fear and just told the truth, the decision was generally received very well and everyone was excited and wished me well. What I began to tell myself, that made me feel better was “This is volunteering. You’re not doing anything wrong”. I could be doing way worse things people! Instead of saying “hey I’m gonna join the Peace Corps” I could be saying “hey I’m gonna go ahead and join ISIS, this caliphate thing is actually pretty dope” or “hey I think its a good idea to quit my job and start selling crack”. I’m not doing any of that. I’m hoping to have a great time in a new country and help some people out along the way.
So after almost a year of applying, fretting, and talking about it, the time to head over to Africa is upon me. Time certainly does fly by, and indeed there wasn't enough time in the end to give all the wonderful people in my life the due time they deserved. For all my complaining about the application process taking a long time, I have ironically found myself wishing I had more of it. I am certainly a lucky guy, and it pains me to leave so much behind for this period of time. But, alas, I will be back! Thank you all for reading. Next time you hear from me I will be reporting back from the middle of Africa. What?