The New Generation of Peace Corps Volunteers

As I sat with another volunteer browsing through the various blogs of our Peace Corps colleagues, she mentioned how each person’s blog says something about that individual – perhaps the way he wants to be perceived, what’s important to her, or what aspects of the Peace Corps experience lie at the forefront of his life. So naturally, I inquired about her perception of what my blog says about me. “That you and the people reading your blog have a particular image of what Peace Corps is.” I agreed with her, and the wheels were set in motion for me to better define (yet again) what the Peace Corps experience is for me personally.

As I have said before, the physical aspects of my experience were not quite what I expected (running water, electricity, my own office, and even well-compensated laptop-toting work travel) but I still find myself writing about the picturesque, romanticized aspects of my experience in Kenya more often than not in my blog – running on red dirt roads with barefooted school children, participating in a project that uses innovative plowing techniques with camels, and picking up trash around my local community. It could even be seen as ironic, or perhaps the infrastructural paradox of the developing world, that I’m writing about water shortages via my wireless modem-connected blog.

To further contrast, or perhaps orient, my Peace Corps experience with one of a past volunteer, enter: Paul Theroux’s May 2009 Conde Nast article “The Lesson of My Life.” Having served in Nyasaland (present-day Malawi) in 1963, some of his experiences rang so true with my own life that I literally got goosebumps reading his article. Other, more superficial, aspects couldn’t help but make me smile; the following in particular: “Everything I owned in the world fitted into the small suitcase I had with me. I had nothing in the bank, no property; did not own so much as a chair. I was superbly portable. I had just turned twenty-two.”

I went on to read the following: “For the two years I was in Malawi, I never made a telephone call and my only contact with my family was in letters that took up to a month to arrive. This suited me fine. The instant connection in today’s world tends to distort the experience of being far from home. What sort of a life is it when, on the days when things are going bad, you are able to dial Mom for consolation?” And with a combined sentiment of deflation and amusement, I thought, “That’s me!” so adding to my contemplation of what this whole experience is truly about.

He continues, “The experience should involve remoteness, inconvenience, hardship, even risk; isn’t that the whole point of being away?” This is more like it! I think to myself. Apparently Peace Corps Kenya doesn’t quite agree, though, hence my thoughts on the emergence of the new generation of PCVs. Remoteness, inconvenience, hardship, and risk are a recipe for disaster and liability in the litigation-happy America we live in today, where news that travels faster than wildfire often influences fragile diplomatic relations, and helicopter-parenting has sent many from my generation into the world needing full-body armor and endless I Could Be A Millionaire lifelines. I’m certainly not about to digress into Peace Corps Kenya’s policies (because I understand why they are in place) but when we aren’t allowed to ride motorcycles, travel at night, hitchhike, stop taking our anti-malaria medicine, drive a car, or even ride a bicycle helmetless without the risk of being shipped home, I would argue the quintessential rugged Peace Corps experience cannot avoid being watered down slightly.

So what challenges will this new generation face, with access to ever-advancing technologies rapidly expanding? And what is our purpose, if not to become fluent in the local tribal dialect or appreciate tapped water after hauling buckets from a river 5km away? Ultimately, Theroux argues, the Peace Corps experience is about answering the question ‘Where is my place in the world?’ and walking away without making the “mistake in thinking that you will make an important difference in the lives of the people you’re among. The profound difference will be in you.” I would have to agree. So regardless of how often the power is cut off, or if you even have power at all, I have come to understand that the essence of the Peace Corps experience for past and future generations does not lie in the niceties of rural life but in the eye-opening experiences that shape an individual’s world view.

As the new generation of Peace Corps volunteers begin entering the global community, myself included, let us remember what is at the heart of embarking on this experience. As we constantly update our blogs and pat ourselves on the back for being able to bargain for a tomato in the local language (while most of our verbal skills have yet to develop beyond superficial exchanges), it’d be a shame for us to lose sight of the ultimate goal of gaining perspective. People say globalization is inescapable, and I would extend that to Peace Corps as well. So in the rapidly globalizing world, there will naturally surface a new generation of volunteers that break from the traditional, romanticized image of the Peace Corps JFK envisioned. I often struggle to come to terms with being part of this new generation, however, the actuality of my situation is unavoidable and I hope to do nothing less than make the most of my experience. So to those who have made it to the end of another of my lengthy pieces of writing, I hope I have succeeded in more clearly defining what the Peace Corps experience is for me and shedding some light on what I have come to call the new generation of volunteers I am a part of.

Ngamia 101 (aka Camels 101)

The founding vision of my NGO is to uplift the livelihoods of resource-poor rural women and children through provision of alternatives to current, unviable livelihoods. Camels has been deemed one of these appropriate alternatives…hence my first course in camels last week, which I will call Ngamia (Camels) 101. Before I write about the exotic adventures of Ngamia 101, let me justify my involvement in this project to head off any doubts that I’m really a Peace Corps Volunteer and not a tourist on safari.

Camels are currently used in numerous arid and semi-arid lands (ASALs) for plowing, consumption, and other income generating activities (think: milk) due to their drought-resistance. My town of Makindu, as it so happens, is geo-climactically prime ASAL. While camels have not been used for plowing in Kenya, which we know of to date, they are ideal for areas with erratic rainfall especially during times of drought.

Currently, Kenya is facing one of the worst droughts of the decade, going on almost 3 full years (5 planting seasons) without rain in some areas. This is devastating, to say the least. Pastoralists who are dependent on cows and goats for survival are losing entire herds to starvation. Images of Masai herders unsuccessfully propping up the rear halves of emaciated calves has been flashing on news shows for months now. Newspaper headlines tell of the devastation, as people have turned to eating seeds and dog meat, accompanied by pictures of bovine carcasses rotting in the background. Food relief has QUADRUPLED in some areas. Cross-border cattle raids (think: African-style Wild West raids to steal cattle by driving them away under the cover of night) are increasing in frequency, including one resulting in the massacre of a hundred men, women, and children just last week in Laikipia.

Yet looming in the background are murmurs about the coming rains of El Nino… Last time El Nino came through East Africa, there was humanitarian crisis-level flooding in Somalia and northern Kenya. Thousands died, if not from the flashfloods and inability to swim in ever-rising waters, then to the diseases and food emergency after. (Read “Where Soldiers Fear to Tread” for one UN-contracted relief worker’s account of his efforts in Somalia during the 1997/98 floods.)

So where do camels fit in? Well one bull (male) camel has the draft power of two bull ox, yet it costs the same (approximately 35,000 Kenyan shillings). And while cows have six stomachs that require constant supply of food – most of which is nowhere to be found during times of drought – camels will happily munch on the thorny dry-land bush that other livestock won’t (or can’t) touch. Lastly, cows need daily access to water, while camels can store enough water to last themselves two to three WEEKS at a time. So there you have it – camels would be quite the troopers for areas such as Ukambani (the larger region in which Makindu is located).

So we traveled up to a world-famous camel ranch Ol-Maisor in Laikipia, a few hours outside Nanyuki where Mt. Kenya is located. The trip there was a free safari: giraffes, zebras, buffalo, dik dik, gazelle running alongside the car, and an elephant herd crossing the road just minutes before we passed leaving us glimpses of their behinds as they continued into the bush. As we crossed over a dry riverbed, people murmured about it as if it had some importance, though I didn’t catch the gist of why. I later came to find out that was where one of the ten camels bought for our project had been eaten by a lion as they camped overnight on the trek to the ranch the previous week.

So we stayed for two days: watched the camels-in-training plow (or rather, kick ferociously as a plow was attached to them); the agricultural engineers took measurements and made adjustments to old equipment for designing a special camel plow; spoke with a team from India who is doing a documentary on endogenous knowledge application in dry-land regions and climate change; discussed selection process for soon-to-be-trained camel herders and the sensitization necessary for the communities in which the new animals will be introduced. All in all, it seems to be a promising project and application of this appropriate technology will hopefully make a positive difference in agricultural practices in the ever-increasing drought-prone areas (thank you, climate change) of developing countries.