Later this evening one of my friends from stage will board a plane with a one-way
ticket to America in hand. She has decided to “early terminate” (ET) her
service and head back home a bit sooner than initially planned. I think I can
speak for my stage (and hopefully the
rest of PC Cameroon) when I say that this is almost certainly the right
decision for her-I think she’ll be much happier back in America. My friend
isn’t alone in her decision; she’ll be the fourth member of my stage to voluntarily return home since
the year began.
The Peace
Corps has a great policy for Volunteers wishing to end their service early.
Simply put, we can leave at any time with minimal repercussions. Peace Corps
will give us our final medical exams, a flight home, and even a ride to the
airport. Sure, there are a few lost bureaucratic benefits, but most of them are
fairly negligible. I’m a big fan of the culture that this policy
promotes-complete your service because you want to, not because you have to.
So why do
some Volunteers choose to head stateside earlier than planned? I’m sure the
reasons are as varied as PCVs themselves, but a common one is lack of
work-related satisfaction. Life as a PCV is extremely self-motivated, and a
dearth of enthusiastic or competent Cameroonian counterparts and/or host
organizations can trip up even the most dedicated Volunteer.
A fellow
PCV pointed out to me that all four of our stagemates
that have decided to ET this year have been posted in cities. This realization
came shortly after the memo from our Program Manager that Volunteers will no
longer be posted in urban areas. This decision will mean that my (“peri-urban”)
post will be closed upon my departure; there will not be a Volunteer coming to
continue my projects, take advantage of my contacts, or move into my house.
I wasn’t
thrilled when I first heard this announcement. It’s comforting to think that
your work will be built upon by a future PCV. But the realization about my
fellow urban-dwelling PCVs’ frustrations got me thinking a bit about our roles
in our respective communities.
Like
anywhere else, there is a significant difference between urban and village life
here in Cameroon. And in terms of both creature comforts and standards of
living, posts in urban areas often win out. Volunteers in urban areas typically
have both electricity and (fairly consistent) running water. We aren’t forced
to learn an obscure dialect to be understood, can find educated work partners, and
typically have access to more familiar and desirable foods.
So why is
it that so many of the Volunteers placed in cities have chosen to end their
time in Cameroon early? I can’t try to speak for them, but I can imagine easily
enough some factors that would lead to frustration. Urban areas can be seen
both as a glimpse into the future of development and as prime examples of
blatant inequality.
But more
than that, life in the big city can be isolating. Neighbors go off to their
jobs all day, and the sense of community that many of us expected to find in
Cameroon can be lacking. One of my friends lived in a third floor apartment in
a building where she knew very few of her neighbors. That’s a pretty far cry
from a PCV’s experience in the village, where entire days can be spent passing
the time with friendly neighbors and other members of the community. One of the
best parts of life here is the ease with which we are welcomed into our
respective communities and the extent to which they begin to feel like home. If
that’s missing…life can be tough.
So as my stagemates and I begin the process of
planning our lives back in America, I’ve been thinking a lot about the things
that make a place feel like home. And as much as I crave Chipotle runs and
smooth roads to drive on, what I’m really looking forward to is rebuilding my
American mini-community in whatever place I end up.
