Poem

This year Peace Corps celebrates its 50th anniversary, and due to this a good deal of creativity has come out of the PC community recently. Blogs, websites, paintings, news articles, posters, and poems have been cropping up all over the place. Below is a re-posting of a poem by a RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer- like the Marines, there are no "former" volunteers). I thought it was wonderful and decided that I had to pass it along.

50 years of Peace Corps: A Message for soon to be Volunteers

Peace Corps is a twenty-seven-month-long-commitment,

Little do you know, you are in it for life…

It all starts with that spark from someone, “Uncle Dave served in Peace Corps and he loved it”, “Do you know they work in Thailand?” or the best and the most simple, “You would be great in the Peace Corps.”

The highest compliment, the deepest calling.

And then the paper trail begins, blazing a path through a dense bureaucratic network of uploaded dreams and poorly stated ambitions.

We trace every spark believing that it will one day lead to a full fire of intention.

Really, it’s your first endurance test, and it is not a smooth process-believe me.

When volunteers start, their minds are wrapped around 1,000 different words for help, ….empower, assist, aid, facilitate, uplift,

yet no idea how to use them in a sentence. Let alone in life.

Yes, we open borders, but more importantly, minds and hearts.

Winning them, earning them with the skills of our training and the purity of our efforts.

This is something those who are new to the family realize, and eventually, eventually, 9-12 months eventually….

You will go forth from this time, and this place, toting all that you can carry of your past life and loved ones.

And then,

you serve.

Never, will you feel more alive - it will surprise you.

It is a progression of connection…

at first, you are in your head and it’s

American, meets other.

Then you get more grounded, and

volunteer, meets villager or teacher, meets student.

And then, if you are lucky, the simplicity settles in, and it’s

human meets human,

heart to heart.

It’s all right there. It’s tucked into the humble corners of each day.

Two years- will fly by.

Watch carefully or you might miss it.

Blink twice,

and it’s gone….

And then,

you will leave those same coveted, carefully packed objects turned artifacts in the fault lines of all your cultural earthquakes.

And then,

you come back.

You are returned volunteers, never former, and you try to trace the patterns of home and you stumble, and get dizzy, and people from the place you once knew ask ….

How was Malawi? Ecuador? Mauritania? Poland?

How was Nicaragua? Mali? Panama? Vanuatu? Romania? How was Tanzania?

And what did you do there?

Well,

and you will pause…

I changed the world.

I changed myself.

It’s been 50 years of sweat and smiles, moments and memories, adventure and admiration, respect and realization

and waiting and waiting and waiting,

It’s been 50 years of imagination and inspiration.

Fifty years on paper,

but we are a part of so much more.

We bring hope to the forgotten corners of the world,

and find peace at our core.

-Meleia Egger

RPCV Malawi 2008-2010

Peace Corps Recruiter, Mid-Atlantic Regional Recruiting office

Chicken Vegetable Stirfry

Recently I've wanted to learn how to cook. In high school I never really thought about it since my parents always cooked. Freshman year of college I didn't think about it since I lived in the dorms and got almost all of my meals at the cafeteria. Sophomore year I moved into an apartment and started to think about it. Then I got super busy and lived on microwavable Healthy Choices and Lean Pockets for the next few years. Sure I learned a couple of staple recipes like my Italian and rice chicken which remains to be one of my favorite dishes ever. But if I was cooking it was probably pancakes or eggs (I'm one of those people who likes breakfast for dinner). Then I came to Moldova directly after college and lived with a host family for a year and paid them for all my meals. So I never really learned how to cook. Then I moved out. And the markets here don't have Healthy Choices or Easy Mac.

Over the last few years I've started watching shows like Jamie Oliver's "Food Revolution" which I love, and the Food Network. I've decided that I need to learn how to really cook because it is a skill that everyone should have. I just never thought that I would be learning how to cook in Eastern Europe.

Tonight I made chicken and vegetable stirfry. This is the first time I have made this dish with chicken. Last weekend another volunteer, Anita, visited me and toured Drochia. She spent the night and we made vegetable stirfry. We did want the chicken, but when we got to the store, we learned that the rotisserie chickens would not be done until much later that evening and the frozen stuff was questionable. So we nixed the chicken from the plans. I did learn from this that I wouldn't use cabbage in the future because I think it smells weird and just wasn't a fan; that I want to use yellow bell peppers instead of red because red are too sweet; and not to let the noodles sit in the pan too long or else they end up crunchy.

Today I went to the market that is just a couple of meters away from my apartment and found that they have rotisserie chickens on Tuesdays. I asked the lady when to come back and went to get what else I would need for the dish. I also watched a couple of youtube videos on how to carve a chicken.

It went pretty well, I think. I got the chicken and was followed home by a cat who could smell what was in my bag. Since she climbed four flights of stairs in her pursuit I figured she earned a leg, which I don't like anyway, and fed her before shooing her off. Then I started carving and it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. Especially after I figured out that I had the chicken upside-down and flipped it over. Much easier. So I picked the carcass clean with a mix of the knife and my fingers and then took the leftovers out to the garbage. I didn't want the bag of bones and skin stinking up the apartment. As I left the apartment another cat started following me to the dumpster. So instead of throwing the bag in I emptied the contents on the ground and let the strays go at it.

After that it was just a matter of mixing the right ingredients in the right order. I let the minced garlic simmer in a drizzle of olive oil, then added the veggies (which next time I will let cook longer and I will cut the carrots thinner.) Then the noodles followed by chicken and teriyaki sauce I bought in Chisinau. I'm going to have to buy more the next time I'm there because these two meals used up the whole bottle. Granted, it was a fairly small bottle. Only about 0.25ml. The finished product, while not perfect, tasted wonderful. I also have leftovers to look forward to. I'd say it was pretty successful.

Beyond the Grass Hut

When most people think about the Peace Corps they imagine living in grass huts in Africa. Well, there's a lot more to it than that. In my service country it is mandatory for a volunteer's house to have electricity (mostly because we're required to carry cellphones at all times in case of emergency), some volunteers are lucky enough to have gas heating, and the really lucky ones have indoor water. Recently, due to health problems, I have moved from living with a host-family in a village to my own apartment in the nearby town. I still commute back to my village for work which costs 4lei and a 20 minute bus ride. Being on my own again has been very liberating, as well as coming with new challenges. So here it is, my new apartment:



This is the wardrobe and table in my living room/bedroom.



My bed and tv, which I use as a bookcase. There is a rug hanging on the wall next to the bed, I think it is to help keep the apartment warm in winter. Like most Soviet-era buildings in Moldova, this apartment is constructed from concrete.



My water closet, just the toilet. And a bucket to flush with when the water goes out. For some reason many towns in Moldova cut the water during the day and late at night to living spaces. The theory is that they are saving money this way. I have to get up early if I want to shower in the morning, and dishes tend to stay in the sink until evening when I can wash them. I can usually get water pretty reliably from 6-10pm and about 6-9am.



My shower room. Last night I also used this as my laundry room when I washed clothes by hand for the first time. Both my pre-service training and permanent site host families had washing machines, so this was the first time I had to wash by hand. I started late and ended up racing against the dwindling water supply at 10pm when it gets shut off again for the night.




My kitchen. Little tiny stove, little tiny counter, and a little tiny sink. Since I have no pantry I keep the dishes in the drying rack at all times and use the upper cupboard for food and the bottom cupboard for pots and pan. Or, really, pot and pan since I only have one of each so far. I'll have to buy a bigger pot for soup later in the year, but since I don't need it yet I haven't bought it. Setting up the new place has been a bit expensive. The apartment did come with one pot, but when I went to wash it I found a few holes, which made it good for a strainer, but not much else.



Some of that expense, or really most of it, came from me buying a microwave. I use it almost everyday for cooking. My fruit bowl on top is full because it is summer. It'll be lonely in winter when all I can get is bananas and oranges from Turkey.



My refrigerator, which lives on the balcony outside of my bedroom. But at least I have one, so hey, who cares where it is.

And there you have it. Beyond the grass hut. While my living situation certainly isn't the most normal for volunteers in Moldova, it isn't that unusual either. A good dozen or more of us live in apartments in the bigger towns and cities. So if you thought you could never join the Peace Corps because you just have to have a shower/microwave/fridge/toilet, what are you waiting for? This place is better than my first college apartment.

Moldova Fashion

One of the things that a lot of volunteers worry about when packing is what clothes to bring. We all want to be culturally appropriate in our choices and tend to agonize to much over this. How do you pack for two years? It is a ridiculous task. If any M26s are out there blogger-stalking me, take heed; don't worry about it. Especially if you're placed in an education program. A lot of the women and girls in Moldova dress surprisingly immodest by American standards (yes, ethnocentric, I know). Another volunteer, Emily Getty, wrote a great blog post about the dichotomy between fashion and culture in Moldova. I recommend reading it.

It is not uncommon in Moldova to see a girl wearing an extremely short skirt, sky-high heels, and an ity-bity tank top walk by a church and cross herself. My partner showed up to practice school wearing cocktail dresses. A lot of female volunteers have been told our clothes are "Nu furmos" when we're wearing standard teaching fare for America.

That being said, there are some girls here who dress more conservatively than what is normal for this culture, and I have a special place in my heart for them. That's why when I saw a group of girls at my piata wearing long skirts, t-shirts, and head scarves it made my day. Then I got closer and was able to read one of the shirts (it should be noted here that Europeans sometimes tend to buy shirts just because they are in English, and don't always know what they say). She was wearing a shirt with a bar of soap on it that said "Rub me on your butt!". Oh, honey, so close.

For more on Chisinau street style, see this blog.

Maze

One of the things that volunteers in schools in Moldova are encouraged to do is innovative learning activities. Most of the time in schools here, kids just sit all day while teachers talk at them. So when Maria and I planned to do a lesson on helping others and communication I suggested this activity.

I set up this maze using the school's jungle gym and some ribbon.


Hijinks ensued, tears were shed, pretty sure at least one student got a concussion, and friendships tested. Altogether successful I'd say.




I was super impressed that this girl wanted to go through blindfolded while wearing a skirt.




Victor, one of my favorite students.




Cristin. I'm still trying to explain the concept of ADHD to my partners. This kid is a walking textbook example. It makes him trying to the other teachers, but endures him to me.



For some reason when it is summer in Moldova all of the men take off their shirts. So of course the little boys do it too, following example.


All in all it did turn out pretty well. We talked about verbal communication and why it is important to give clear directions to people. Why it is better to have one person talking rather than a whole group shouting. How it feels to be the person in need of help and no know what is going on. And why it hurts to bonk your head on the jungle gym.

Weekend in the Chis

Last weekend I got to hang out for a few days in Chisinau (affectionately called "The Chis"- pronounced like the egg dish quiche) with some other volunteers. Anita and I stayed at the hostel. The lovely lady is pictured below.


The hostel can be fun, there are always new people to meet. This time there was a man from France who was taking vacation time because he had been to every country in Europe except three and Moldova happened to be one. So all the volunteers who were hanging out there gave him tips on where to go be tourist-y.


The next day we found a festival on the way back to the hostel after some meetings. It was a festival for the European Union. Moldova is not yet in the union, but they're working on it.




Note the pirate balloon, very cool.



And cotton candy for 5 lei! Carolyn and I were super excited; good day.

Spring has come!

It has been almost a month since I last posted and in that time spring has finally arrived! It is sunny enough that I can start hanging my laundry outside to dry again. The animals are back. Goats are posted by the roadside again, cats and dogs laying in the sun, and the grandmothers have boxes of baby chicks on the buses.

We've also had a plethora of holidays. In Moldova there are two Easters. The first is your more traditional Easter, the second is "Easter of the Dead". On this day everyone goes to the cemetery to visit loved ones who have passed, get their food blessed by the priest, and have a picnic. Unfortunately, with my host parents out of the country on vacation, we didn't do much. Maybe next year I'll have pictures and more to report on this. In my village this happened on Monday, so I got a surprise day off from school. I also found out today that there will not be school next Monday either because it is Moldova's version of Memorial Day.



Mai departe (moving on): I've been in a bit of a hippie mood lately, so here's a music video for your enjoyment.