Why I Made the Decision to Leave Peace Corps (Part 3)

Literally sick and tired of being sick and tired, my body was falling apart on me. Still at the point where I was trying to convince myself that this was normal for a Peace Corps Volunteer to be dealing with, I let one particular problem go on for too long, and it eventually manifested itself in a painful, no longer bearable issue.

During the second month in my site, I started to notice acid reflux problems. Never having a history of acid reflux, I ignored it and assumed it would go away. I attribute it mainly to the caldo, or soup, that was occasionally served to me, but it could have been caused by a number of foods. The caldo was incredibly greasy, and orange bubbles of grease could be seen floating on the surface. Most of the food I ate with the host family bothered my stomach, but this was especially bothersome.

I first noticed it when trying to sleep. Upon lying down, I would feel a sharp pain in my chest. It would occasionally make it very difficult to breathe, and I would have to sit up and try to pound my back in order to force some air through my lungs. The pain was especially noticeable when I did anything active, such as playing soccer with the boys in my town, something that I did almost every day. Acute pains in my chest would cause me to stop running and massage the afflicted area.

This continued for months, becoming progressively worse. Eventually, a particularly horrible episode made me do something about it. I was spending the night at a fellow PCVs house because I did not have enough time to make it back from the Q'eqchi classes that I took every Saturday in a city a couple hours away. Trying to sleep, the now familiar pain in my chest returned. It became so bad that I got out of bed and started to walk around and attempt to regain a normal breathing pattern. I walked out of the bedroom into the main room of the house and stumbled around in the dark. Doubled over, I kept coughing and pushing my chest and back in order to generate an air flow. The pain got to be so bad, that I momentarily considered calling the Peace Corps off-duty medical officer. This was at 2 in the morning. Eventually the pain subsided, and I was able to return to bed and fall asleep. The profundity of the pain, however, made me decide that enough was enough.

The next day I called a Peace Corps Medical Officer and described the symptoms that I had been having. She first berated me for not controlling my diet. I sort of lost it, and I admit that I was a little too harsh with this very nice medical officer. Unexpectedly, I decided to go into a long rant about everything that had been going on at my site and how I could no longer take it. I told her that I had no control over my diet. She yelled at me for eating beans, but was later perplexed after I told her that it was one of the only things served to me. She was astonished that I did not have the resources to control what I ate and offered to tell others about my situation. I told her that she could, but I didn't think any significant changes would come of it. The medical officer told me to go to a doctor to get his opinion.

I scheduled an appointment, and a couple days later I was in the office of a doctor approved by Peace Corps. He examined me and told me that I had an acid reflux problem and that I was doing damage to my already burned esophagus. He seemed very knowledgeable and prescribed three different kinds of medicine for me. I thanked him and left his office. After that I proceeded to call the Peace Corps medical office to confirm that I should purchase the prescribed medicine. They agreed that it would be a good idea and told me that I would be reimbursed for the purchase. The total for the medicine was over 100 dollars. After taking the medicine for a couple days, I started to feel better.

That was the end of June. I knew that most of the month of July would be occupied by trainings and meetings at Peace Corps headquarters 7-8 hours away, and I was looking forward to the time out of my site, if only to eat plentifully again.

The first time I was to go to the Peace Corps headquarters was for a training, where my counterparts would also participate. I was excited to show my counterparts what kind of work we could be doing in the town. The only problem was that my counterparts were so poor that they could not afford to accompany me to events, even to nearby towns where the fare was only 5 quetzales, or about 60 cents. Luckily, Peace Corps was going to reimburse all of the Volunteers' counterparts for this event, which would last several days. I told my counterparts multiple times that they would need to inform the junta directiva of the association that they would be gone for a couple days and that they needed money for transportation to Antigua. I continued to remind them as the day of the event drew nearer, and they told me that they would take care of everything.

The night before we were supposed to leave, I asked one of my counterparts if everything was arranged for us to leave the next morning for Antigua. He told me that the junta directiva did not want to front the money, even though they would later be reimbursed. This was something that had been planned for several weeks, an event that the junta directiva knew would occur. Again, I wondered how this site got a Peace Corps Volunteer, since they seemed to have no intention in wanting to participate in free professional development training. No longer wishing to mask my discontent, I marched over to the center of town with my counterpart and asked why they did not want to pay the bus fare to allow my counterparts to go to this valuable training provided by Peace Corps. Begrudgingly, they finally agreed to front the money. Over time, I learned from my counterparts and host father that many in the community strongly disliked the junta directiva and felt that they were ineffectual.

The next day we left for the training, and the training went really well. It gave me time to bond some more with my counterparts, who were very close in age to me. They did a great job in participating during the 2 days, and I was hopeful that we could implement what we learned back at the site.

Every time that I left my site I was told by someone on the junta directiva that the house would be done when I got back. Every time, the house was not finished. It all seemed very deceitful.

My counterparts left to return to the site, and I stayed for my training group's Reconnect, an event that takes place after a group has been in site for 3 months. It is a time to compare notes, successes and failures alike. I took advantage of my time in headquarters to approach my two bosses about my recurring frustrations. I was growing very impatient with not being able to have a room where I could unpack my things and start to feel a little more settled, not to mention the fact that I was still not able to control what I ate, thus perpetuating a cycle of illnesses.

Their answer was concise: things will get better when you have your house. Just wait a little longer. I didn't think I could hang in there much longer.

Reconnect came next. It was great to see everyone, but my friends' comments scared me. They told me how terrible I looked. Remember, almost everyone had not seen me in 3 months. They said I looked incredibly thin and sickly. One of my friends even told me that I looked yellow and instantly frowned whenever she saw me. I tried to maintain a brave face and tell them that I was hanging in there. Outwardly, I was positive. Inwardly, I was in a really bad place. I was losing hope of anything ever getting better. I was not enjoying my Peace Corps experience at all.

During one session of Reconnect, my ecotourism group all sat in a circle. We went around the circle and talked about the the good times and the bad times at our sites thus far. I talked about how incredibly depressing it had been in my site, but still tried to hold back a little. I did say, however, that I believed the site was never reviewed and that a Volunteer should never have been sent there. I was starting to crack.

One intention of Reconnect was from us to hear from our peers and get a morale boost from hearing the stories of triumphs and struggles. I came away feeling even more depressed. Why? Because, for the most part, the stories told of setbacks and difficulties didn't even come close to what was going on at my site. I found that I was digging myself into a mental rut; I didn't think I would ever be able to overcome the problems in my site. Reconnect was supposed to make me feel connected to my group. Instead, it had the opposite effect. I felt alone.

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For the sake of readability, I am separating my reasons for leaving Peace Corps into many parts. I am pretty sure the next installment will be the last. Once I finish up these posts, I plan to to write with more of a positive spin again. I'll talk about memorable events from the past couple of months and my plans for the future. If you are still interested in reading, then I am still interested in writing. Again, thanks for reading and for the comments, internet friends.