For All the Ones We've Lost

It is funny thing when people in our situation decide to leave this place. I can only imagine what the first group of volunteers is going through right now as they are preparing to leave this country. As they abandoned their American selves two years ago, so must they do the same for the life they have made here. Reverse culture shock can quite alarming, and I have heard the process of adjusting to life in the US can be a tough process. From all the stories I have heard, going home is somewhat euphoric at first at simply being reunited with friends and family again. Then about a month or two afterwards, you begin to have problems you would not ordinarily have. One story that sticks out in my mind is that of a young woman who served in sub-Saharan Africa. She went to a supermarket with one of her friends, and at the last minute the friend asked her to run back and get some raisin bran. The former volunteer came back frustrated at the fact that there were fifty different kinds of raisin bran, and that she had no idea which one to pick. It may seem like a minor inconvenience to you, dear reader, but the poor girl was nearly in tears. The shock of returning to a former life once forgotten can be quite a shock in all the ways you would not expect. I wish all the K1’s all the best of luck back in the world, if they happen to be reading this.

Of course, not everyone makes it the entire two years. Of the thirty-seven volunteers that accepted the invitation to serve in Cambodia, thirty-two of us still remain. One has to remember that despite the quasi-military aspects of the organization such as the use of acronyms, the “officer” component in the titles of the staff, the two-year commitment, and the fact that “Corps” is part of its title, joining the Peace Corps is not like joining the army. You may terminate your service at any time, and no action can be taken against you for doing so. People leave more often than you would think. Sometimes the initial shock of getting off the plane in a very distant country is enough to make someone really think about what they are doing.

When someone leaves, the feelings about this person are usually mixed. You cannot really blame them for wanting to go home because the fact of the matter is that this is a really hard job. Quite frankly, there is a good reason why there are not a lot of people who could do what we are doing. It can be frustrating, lonely, boring, and stressful at times, and you cannot really blame someone for not wanting to put up with that for years on end. I will admit myself that during really bad days or weeks, I catch myself daydreaming of wearing tweed jackets and machine-washed clothing, eating gigantic burritos stuffed with guacamole, and playing chamber music with my former music teachers on a beautiful fall day in New England. Of course, a person’s reasons for going back are probably less trivial than this.

Of course, the opposite feelings of this are always there. You want them to stay because if you know them well enough, there’s a good enough chance that the person is your friend. Then you do not want them to leave. Ultimately, your friend has to do what is right for them. If going home to America is what they need to do, you can only be supportive.

When a person leaves during training, a curious sensation sweeps through the group of volunteers. Initially, the person who left is talked about. It is hard not to, because the person who you ate a meal with or shared a room with is no longer there. People start thinking about what would happen to them if they left, what would happen that would be so bad that would make them leave, or even who is going to leave next. There is a genuine feeling of uncertainty, but after a few days it is no longer there. Having one less person in the group becomes part of the daily adjustment you have to make, and the matter is largely put to rest. They are seldom talked about again.

When someone leaves now, it is a bit different. The group that was once cohesive is now independently working at their sites, and consumed with the affairs that happen there. The feelings that are aroused when one hears of a person’s departure can only be described as, “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

I suppose that it is all that can be expected.