Throughout my life, during times of great change, times where I have found myself uprooted and planted elsewhere, grasping for new soil, homes and identities, I have often wondered prior to the change: will I find friends when I get there? Will they be good people? After moving 6 hours away for college; after studying abroad in Mexico; after living for 2 months in Ghana and, finally, after joining the Peace Corps, time and time again, I have found not only friends, but families.
Peace Corps pre-service training is an unforgettable experience. Individuals from all over the United States, who most likely never would have crossed paths, are flown to a foreign country and thrown into a massive cultural blender and told to blend, or else. The process, though at times harrowing, is undeniably enriching. You are going through an experience that no one else in the world, at that time, is going through. You call home and tell your parents. You e-mail your friends in the states and tell them all about your latest adventures. Your family and friends, though, can’t really understand. The only ones who can truly understand you are your friends in the Peace Corps, and especially those in your training class. Only they are by your side, simultaneously experiencing the beauty of a new language and country and the frustrations and failures that come with the assimilation process.
Recently, there was a bit of a bump in the new road upon which I am traveling. On Wednesday I started to feel ill. On Thursday the pain got worse, and I was in agony during a training group visit to Guatemala City. Thursday night, the pain intensified even more and intense nausea coupled with excruciating pain in my stomach and the lower right side of my back caused my host mother to call the Peace Corps Medical Officer. My medical officer suspected that I had appendicitis and quickly arranged to transport me to a hospital. I am impressed with the speed and efficiency that Peace Corps transported me to trusted facilities in Guatemala City, the capital of the country.
I have now spent 2 nights in the hospital, and while I am no stranger to being very sick in an unknown place, it is always nice to receive support from others. That support has come from many; from fellow trainees; from the host sisters of other host families, from my own family back home and from Peace Corps staff. Just now I received this text message from a friend. “How was your day? Any news? When will you be released? How is the pain level? We miss you.” Truth be told, that made my day.
But soon, my friends will not be so near. Training is coming to an end. Friday was site assignment day, which I unfortunately missed due to being in the hospital. Of course I was disappointed at the cruel timing of my illness and how it prevented me from being blindfolded and placed on a map of Guatemala like the rest of my friends, but I had to keep telling myself that my health was much more important than the manner in which I found out my site.
The guys from my training town came to visit me in the hospital and give me my folder with all of my site info. This whole Peace Corps thing? Well, it just got a little more real. For security reasons, I am not allowed to disclose the exact location of my site, but I will share some of the details. I will be heading into northern Alta Verapaz, a department north of the capital and 2 hours north of Coban, the department capital. My town has a whopping 300 people, 90% of whom DO NOT SPEAK SPANISH. Therefore, it looks like I will be one of the only ones in my training group who will not only be required to learn a Mayan language, but will be required to know it extremely well.
This is going to be an unbelievably exciting challenge. Yet, I would be lying if I denied how daunting this all seems. I already have an advanced Spanish level – and this may be a big reason why I am being urged to learn yet another language – but I sense I will need to give up my dream of becoming fluent in Spanish by the time I leave Guate.
Throughout training I had the chance to learn from current Volunteers. Two pieces of advice stuck with me in respect to learning languages. Those who were placed in areas where a Mayan language was the predominant language offered salient advice. Some said, “Learning a Mayan language was the most important decision that I made during my 2 years of service.”
Others said, “Not learning a Mayan language has been one of my biggest regrets.” Thus, it appears that if I want to truly integrate into my tiny community, I need to learn their language, and I am willing to commit to that.
In addition, the work opportunities at my site sound incredible. I am working with an association to promote the caves located in the town. Here’s a question for my potential visitors. Have you ever wanted to float through caves on a tube while holding a candle to guide you? Because you can do that at my site. Unbelievable.
I leave for a 6-day site visit on Tuesday morning. After that I return to my training site for a week in order to make some final arrangements, and then I am off to my site for good. Wow. My stomach hurts. Is that the aftermath of food poisoning, or did life just give me a great roundhouse kick? It’s about to begin. Let’s do this.
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