Alternatives to the Peace Corps

When I was applying to the Peace Corps in 2009 and 2010, someone asked me something like, "What are you going to do if you don't get into the Peace Corps?"  I responded something like, "I don't know."  As it turned out, I got into the Peace Corps, and served as a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) in Morocco from 2010 to 2012, so I never ended up considering the question of what else I'd do.  

This time around as I again apply to the Peace Corps, I am thinking about what I'll do if I don't become a PCV again.  In considering various courses of action, I've been drawn to seek various elements in my life.  I've been driven to serve impoverished persons while living simply, and I particularly enjoyed a simple life of service abroad as a PCV.  I've craved spiritual community, including while worshipping and celebrating God's many blessings at Mass and otherwise in church.  I've also greatly enjoyed solitude, along with the frequently attendant silence and stillness, which, I feel, helps me to try to listen to what God is saying to me.  I've sought to live a life in which I practice these and other spiritual disciplines.  

Seeking to follow these spiritual practices, I've also applied to Franciscan Mission Service.  Through their program, volunteers live abroad for at least two years while serving poor people.  
It seems likely I might also apply for service programs in which I would serve poor persons here in the states.  I've found some such volunteer programs which interest me through the website www.catholicvolunteernetwork.org.  

It's also possible I might again be a Catholic Worker.  For a few months in the latter half of last year, I lived and worked at a Catholic Worker House here in California.  There we housed, fed and otherwise cared for women and children who probably otherwise would have been homeless.  

I don't know what I'll do next.  I can say, though, that I am excited about what lies ahead.  I am looking forward to returning to active ministry, spending more time serving impoverished people.  I am eager to do so, in whatever framework it takes place.  

Enjoying Just Walking In The Park

As I rapidly approach my COS (Completion Of Service, or Close Of Service) date, I've been appreciating in a new light various elements of my experience here in Morocco.  Of course, with less than two weeks left until I finish my Peace Corps service, I'm conscious that I don't have a lot of time left to experience in person the benefits of life here. 

In this town where I live here in the Sahara, I've enjoyed walking through the palmerie, which is the massive grove of palm trees which stretches in, through, and out of this town on both ends.  It's so extensive that you can't see the ends of it even when you're on top of the mountains near the town.  I feel a serenity and calming influence there amongst the quiet of the palms.

In addition to the tranquility of the palmerie, it also teems with a variety of life.  I most often have seen dates hanging from the palms, and have been very happy to savor the sweetness of many dates plucked from the palmerie.  However, I've also seen apples, apricots, and pomegranates growing in the palmerie. 

We often enjoy fantastic weather here in town.  On many days, the sky beams blue.  It rarely rains here in town.  In any case, I've always been able to see the nearby mountains when I've gone for walks in the palmerie here.

For quite a while, I'd been wanting to go for a moonlit stroll through the palmerie.  After noticing over a period of a few days that the moon had been getting fuller and fuller, I found out that the moon would be rising around the hour of sunset.  In yet another fortunate turn, the weather had been clear day after day as the moon was becoming more and more full.  Accordingly, a couple of nights ago, I headed out for a moonlit walk through the palmerie.

I purposely chose a route which took me, for the most part, on wider paths so that my way would be less likely to be darkened by moon shadows being cast by mud walls or palm trees.  Consequently, for most of my walk, I was able to see where I was stepping.  By the light of the moon, I also enjoyed seeing across fields there in the palmerie. 

During my nighttime excursion through the palmerie, I not only was glad to experience the palmerie under a different type and amount of light, but I was also pleased to be experiencing its beauty and serenity in an even more quiet setting than usual.  Although I heard some dogs barking far away, usually I only heard a chorus of crickets as I walked under the palms. 

I also was glad to be walking through the palmerie at such a late and unusual hour since I was alone.  Discounting the three toads I saw hopping along at a few different points, I didn't see anyone else the entire time I was on my nighttime stroll through the palmerie.  When I walk in the palmerie during the day, usually I pass someone at some point.  So while I typically walk through the palmerie mostly alone, I appreciated the experience of walking there even more when I was doing so late at night, in complete solitude. 

On my moonlit stroll, I spent about 40 minutes in the palmerie, exiting it a few minutes after midnight.  I was glad that despite feeling fatigued, I had made myself get up and go out for the late night visit to the palmerie.  On that trip, I got to experience a place I very much enjoy, but from a new perspective, which has helped me to appreciate it in new ways.

Since the palmerie is so huge, there are so many trails to explore that I've probably only hiked a tiny percentage of the palmerie's paths.  It certainly has been a tremendous blessing from God to have what is essentially such an immense park here in the town where I have been living, and for one which I have been extremely grateful to God.

Twilight: My Two-Year Anniversary In Morocco

Today is my two-year anniversary of my arrival here in Morocco. I arrived in Morocco as a PCT (Peace Corps Trainee) on September 15, 2010. My COS (Completion Of Service, or Close Of Service) date is less than a month away. Thus I am in the twilight of my Peace Corps service. People have been asking me how I feel about my Peace Corps service, now that it is about to end. I feel pretty good.

When I started applying to the Peace Corps, initially in 2008, at that point already for at least a dozen years I'd already wanted to be in the Peace Corps. I wanted to live in a foreign country, and more specifically in Africa. I'd always envisioned my Peace Corps service being in the Sahara. I'd been wanting to live somewhere where I'd be speaking a foreign language. I'd already been wanting to teach for well over a dozen years. And it had long been important to me to help impoverished persons, as the Bible instructs. Thus, I supposed that teaching English classes in the Peace Corps would be a fine way to do all of these things.

Indeed, I've enjoyed teaching English, and I've enjoyed doing the other work I've done here in Morocco as a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer). While teaching, I've mostly taught English, though I've also taught lessons about geography, health and the environment during my service. During the process of teaching here, I've learned how to teach better, learning for which I have been grateful.

I've come to see how, just as the Peace Corps encourages PCVs to conceptualize, teaching English can be a vehicle, a means, to other, more significant, ends. I've taught English as a means of addressing gender issues and as a way of leading youths to develop further their logical reasoning and critical thinking abilities.

While teaching English, I've sought to catalyze boys to consider their responsibility to respect the human rights of girls and women. I've tried to spur them to evaluate how they may support women and girls and promote their human rights by the seemingly mundane choices they make in what seem to be their everyday, routine lives. As I've taught English, I've sought to empower girls by encouraging them in the classroom. I've had them consider their own perceptions of themselves, and I've suggested to boys that they be more conscious of how they perceive girls.

I've introduced logical reasoning and critical thinking elements into English lessons to suggest to youths that they might want to question their own assumptions. I've tried to help them to be more objective. I've hoped that perhaps they've expanded their minds. I've hoped that in taking these reasoning approaches, they've realized things about themselves and their world.

In addition to this work I've done, I've made new friends. I've established connections here, both with Moroccans and with other PCVs, which I value.

However, I can't help but think that I might have benefited more than the students and others I've taught and tutored here. I feel that I have gained enormously during my time here in terms of my own personal journey.

On a relatively superficial level, I have indeed been living in a foreign country, and more specifically in Africa, and even more specifically in the Sahara, as I had wanted to do for so long. I've admired some beautiful landscape in this country, and while I've been here in town, I've often enjoyed taking walks in a calm, serene palmerie, the massive grove of palm trees which stretches through this town where I've been living.

But more deeply, while I've lived here in Morocco, I have enjoyed a simple lifestyle. I haven't missed the money and property I had back in the states. Indeed, as I've neared my COS date, and have come to shed more and more property, I've been yearning to jettison more and more physical possessions from my life.

I've greatly enjoyed the solitude I've had here. I've used it to read the entire Bible and re-read a significant portion of it. I've used my free time, with its peace and quiet, to pray and meditate, and to study the Word of God.

I've been very grateful to God for the spiritual community I've experienced with other expat Christians here in Morocco. I've cherished the opportunities I've had to worship God and celebrate God's many blessings with them. I've come to appreciate much more the ability to go to church, since, while I've been living here in Morocco, I've not always been in a location here where there is a church.

As a PCV, I've been grateful for the camaraderie and support I've experienced with and from my fellow PCVs. I've also been glad to live in this community where I've been living here in the Sahara. I've felt satisfaction and fulfillment in serving the community here, teaching and doing other work while I've lived here.

While serving here, I've often felt challenged by this culture. I haven't felt like my personality meshes well with Moroccan culture. Indeed, I've often thought that, in placing me here, the Peace Corps was doing something akin to trying to mix oil and water. However, in experiencing the challenges I've encountered here, I've realized that such difficulties present opportunities to grow and to learn, not just about another culture and the people who are native to it, but also to learn about oneself.

I've experienced the most emotionally challenging period in my life during my Peace Corps service, largely as I struggled to deal with culture shock and adjusted to life in a culture significantly different than in the culture in which I had been accustomed to living previously during all of my life. In grappling with these circumstances, I've been reminded of how Francis Collins, in his book "The Language Of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence For Belief," muses, "Hard though it is to accept, a complete absence of suffering may not be in the best interest of our spiritual growth." Indeed, one would do well to ponder the question, Do we learn more from a comfortable situation, or from trying circumstances?

Ultimately such metamorphosis, painful and unpleasant though it has often been, due to its attendant growth and learning, has been one of the more profound reasons why I have valued my time here so much. Learning, growing, becoming more than one had been, while serving and giving to others, this is part of the meaning of life.

Thus when circumstances not only seem less than ideal, when not only do we not get what we desire, but events are additionally incredibly trying and stressful, and seem to stretch us to our limits, something better, something more, something deeply and wonderfully transformative lies waiting for us on the other side, as described in Hebrews 11:39-40:

These were all commended for their faith,
yet none of them received what had been promised,
since God had planned something better for us
so that only together with us would they be made perfect.

Poor Thing

At the end of the week, whether it's here in Morocco, or back in the US, I'm often ready to decompress. Sounds pretty normal. Except that when you're in a foreign country, the concepts of personal space might make it more complicated to relax than it would be back in the states. Every country has its own customs on how much time people spend with each other. Here in Morocco, when a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) wants to be alone, perhaps in order to rest and rejuvenate, Moroccans often don't understand.

Soon after I had first started living in this town down here in the Sahara, one of the boys who frequents the dar shebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center," where I do most of my volunteering as a Youth Development PCV here in Morocco), expressed his concern to me about how I live alone. He said to me in English, "You go home, and you are by yourself. This is very bad."

Here in Morocco, one's family is central to one's identity. Typically Moroccans live with their families until they get married, unless someone gets a job far away from one's family, perhaps as a teacher. Indeed, often a Moroccan continues to live with his or her family once he or she gets married. In such a case, his or her spouse is welcomed into the family not just with warm gestures and platitudes, but is further, literally welcomed into the home as he or she starts living there.

If one lives alone, at times one is called "meskeen," which, in Darija, means "poor thing." It was in this context that the boy from the dar chebab was expressing his concern for what he saw as my unfortunate plight of living by myself. I had a hard time trying to convince him that I was glad to be living alone. Facing the psychological challenges of life in a foreign country, I'm glad to go home and escape for a little while!

Living here in Morocco, I face challenges which many PCVs face, not only here in this country, but in other foreign countries. Even at this relatively late stage in my Peace Corps service, in my everyday life I encounter a lot of stimuli which still seem foreign to me. I certainly don't understand a lot of what's said during conversations. In many other ways, the modes of operation here are not only not the ones to which I was originally accustomed; furthermore, they're ones which still don't come naturally to me. When I'm trying to have a conversation with someone, and someone else arrives and interrupts, it still seems disruptive to me, and jarring. While I've adjusted somewhat to the lack of lines, including when I go to shop at corner stores, I'm still not entirely used to the practice of an unstructured mass of people waiting to be served at a store. So all of these customs can get to be a bit much to process at times. Of course, they don't seem that way to Moroccans. To them, it would be better to use the term cultural norms: such behavior is normal, and therefore not a source of stress for them. Thus with this gap of how acculturated they are to life here, as opposed to how unadjusted I am, one can start to better appreciate why they might not realize how life here can be difficult.

Thus at times here, as is often the case for me when I'm in the US, I feel that I have to recharge. To do so, sometimes I feel like I need to retreat into solitude. Or at least I need to be with people who aren't going to be too demanding of me in various ways, who won't be expecting me to make a lot of conversation with them, who perhaps will be OK with me being alone in the next room for a little while, who are comfortable separately and quietly doing our own activities in the same room for part of the day. Sometimes I feel that I just need to gather my thoughts without being asked to engage someone else.

I could go on, but I think that you get the idea. Sometimes it all gets to be a bit much, and I feel like I have to retreat.

However, I don't think that I take a better approach to spending time with people than Moroccans do. Sometimes I just happen to need a little time by myself, or at least with a little less social stimulation. It's just a personal need I have, and in taking some personal space at times, I don't intend to be implicitly making a value judgment on Moroccan culture. Rather, as I think about the matter of personal space, which leads me to think about the importance of family, I feel that I have some things to learn from Moroccans. In the US, often people don't take care of their family members, and even fall out of touch with them. Here people seem to cherish their family members. Perhaps one of the ways I can learn from life here in Morocco is how Moroccans value family as highly as they do.

Humility as a Reflection of Love

I just finished reading "The True Solitude," which is a collection of excerpts of different works by the Trappist monk Thomas Merton. In this book, Merton offers his thoughts on finding peace, both from the values one exhibits, and from spending time in nature. He also shares his musings on the value of solitude. He also writes of how one can receive, accept and reflect God's grace, which can help one to weather difficult circumstances.

In one passage in the book, Merton explains, "Despair is the absolute extreme of self-love." He goes on to say that one sinks into despair when one refuses help from others, instead choosing to be lost. Pride gets one there, since as soon as we fail, we pity ourselves. And despair comes from pride so large and stubborn that one chooses misery over the happiness that comes from interdependence and reliance on God. And then he emphasizes, "But a man who is truly humble cannot despair, because in the humble man there is no longer any such thing as self-pity."

In digesting Merton's words, I thought, "This teaching is perfect for PCVs." As Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs), we despair for various reasons, but so often it's because we are not getting what we want. Sometimes it's because we're living in an physically isolated site, and we want to be geographically closer to other PCVs in the country where we're serving, or because we desperately miss our families and friends back in the USA, or we're overwhelmed by living in a foreign country, or we're frustrated because we feel that we can't speak the host country language well, or we're frustrated because we feel like we're not accomplishing much as PCVs, and for many other reasons. So much of the time we despair as PCVs because we don't have what we want during our service as PCVs.

But why did we decide to become PCVs? To help others. Consequently, we shouldn't be focusing on what we want, and thus we shouldn't be focusing on what we don't have, but instead we should be focusing on how we can help others.

And who are we to be thinking that things should be a certain way? Hopefully we didn't have such expectations about our Peace Corps service before we got to our host countries. We don't know why we've ended up in certain countries, and in certain communities. Nor do we know all of the effects we're having as PCVs.

But if we try to stop focusing on what we don't have, and focus instead on what do we have--including opportunities to help others--then in those interactions, motivated by love, we can find the joy that is felt when one helps others.

Not knowing all of the effects we're having as PCVs, potentially one can choose to feel uncertain, or even despair by assuming that one is not having much of a positive effect on others' lives. One can combat this uncertainty and despair by changing one's focus. For myself, ideally I always try to trust in God, who brought and guided me to where I am today. Essentially we can choose to respond to God in kind: by striving to show God the love which God has shown to us. I don't know God's ultimate plan. But I have been learning to trust God. And it has worked very well, I must report. God has been providing me with everything I need. Beyond superficial material needs, God has given us tremendous opportunities to help others, and in those possibilities, we can choose to help, and thus love others, which brings us a wondrous joy, and a far better result than the alternative course of action.