Grabbing for mud, grass and mountain air.
My peace and expectations of reality are being shredded. Day by day, the threat of evacuation grows. Promises wilt, petals of possibilies drying out beneath them.
This is more than a “You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.” It’s watching hope fade in front of my eyes.
I’m trying to grip tightly to what I assumed to be mine, an oath of 27 months of service abroad. I swore away my comforts for this new experience and it’s on the verge of being stolen.
Just after coming to terms with peace being largely unforced, I’m doing everything I can to force myself to remain in this moment, this space, this country with whom I’ve only just begun my love story.
Please don’t send me home. I have so much more to learn, so much more the give.
If you’re an American reading this, please call your representatives and advocate for the Peace Corps.
We’re a less than a half-billion dollar organization that does wonders for interntional soft-power, grassroots projects, and global understanding.
We’re not technically international aid. We’re more like volunteer interns and anthropologists trying to spread a positive image of American citizens and learn about cultures, languages, and world views on-the-ground. The skills we learn here, developing projects in spaces with limited access to resources and navigating cultural barriers, creates better citizens for social projects in the U.S.
This is grassroots learning and an expansion of critical thought and creativity. This builds a better America and global community.
Friends, family, and friendly strangers:
Please advocate.
The contents of this post are mine alone and do not reflect the opinions of the Peace Corps, the U.S. government, or the Eswatini government.
