An open letter to Austin and Sarah (and any future Peace Corps Volunteers of America)

A few days before leaving for Togo, I sat down with a bloke who served in Ghana sometime in the 90’s. I was hungry for knowledge. I wished he could impart his cumulative wisdom upon me before our departure, lest I commit the same blunders upon arrival.
“What do I need to know?” I pried. I meant business. I wasn’t looking for a sugarcoated exposé I could read on the Peace Corps website.
“Well, in the Peace Corps you understand, there are certain truths that hold true across the globe.”
“Ah ha…do tell.”
“Number one. When taking public transport, demand a window seat.”
I suppose I could further pontificate on this bloke’s analysis. A personal story was even added for dramatic effect. But we need not muck around in the minute details. Take the window seat.
“Ah ha…Yes! That’s great advice.”
“Number two. Do not waist your time throwing a tantrum after you have an accident in your pants. Consider it a right of passage, if you will.”
“You mean, I’m going to…I haven’t done that since …”
“—yes, sometime in the span of two years, you are bound to eat something causing your bowels to give way.”
“Ah ha…Yes! I suppose it very probable that I should put on quite an exhibition after messing myself. Not now. I’ll just learn to turn the other cheek.”
“Very good. Number three. If someone gives you food, and this is especially detrimental concerning meat, inquire about it’s origins before eating. What looks like tender cutlet of beef could in fact be…well, could be something entirely different than a beef cutlet.”
Ah ha…Yes! Inquire about food origins. This is great stuff man!”
Now, in this sacred scroll of Peace Corps tidbits, there may have been more truths to unveil, but we were at a football game you see, and the home team just recovered a fumbleroosky and took one to the house! Not only that, but after the calamity and roar died down, this bloke’s younger brother started peddling him for beer money. Thus, our exchange was irreversibly diverted away from West Africa.
But now I’m here. I’ve gotten a taste, a feel, a smell, a touch of this place. A nice whiff if you will. Although I am still verdant to the way life rolls here, I’ll peak inside my small knapsack of cumulative wisdom and attempt to finish the truths never fully expounded to me.
Number four: A crowded football stadium is not an ideal forum for discourse concerning Peace Corps Service. This should, at all costs, be avoided. Consider a coffee shop, tea house, or late-night diner.
Number five: Bring five things you think you’ll miss. Of course, it’s tough to tell what you will and won’t miss. For me, I’m really glad I brought a pair of blue jeans. I was considering leaving them at home. I never knew how glad I would be to put on a clean pair of Levis after a shower. It’s great!
Number six: Get a hobby. Two years of relative isolation equals you should develop a decent hobby. A buddy of mine here has a knot book. He learns a new knot every day. You have to ask yourself, why not knot?
Number seven: When the time comes, spend solid time in your community. With frustrations ranging from huge to enormous here, it’s really easy to come off sounding horribly pessimistic when talking about your post, even if life doesn’t suck that bad (See last sentence). It’s much easier than I ever would have thought to slip into a steady pattern of doom and gloom. Thus far, spending more time with Togolese has meant increased enthusiasm for our work here. Spending time with other volunteers has not always meant the same.
Number eight: The more flexible you are, the less likely you are to be upset. If you arrive in country and demand electricity or some other amenity and don’t get it, it can be potentially damaging to your psyche. Besides, reading by candlelight is more pleasurable, right? Right.
Very good. Like a worrisome mother giving last second advice to her son before college, there are a gazillion other things I could probably say. Bring addresses of friends back home. Buy a warranty for your electronics. Did you remember your fingernail clippers? How about extra razors?
And so on. Well, all the best the two of you. Right now, there’s a Malawian community eagerly waiting your arrival. Best of luck!
Ah yes, I almost forgot one last thing. It’s a must.
Number nine: Go to De Leon’s this very moment and buy the most daunting burrito they have. Order extra hot sauce. Double the meat.
If not for you, for me.