Culture Shock

I like to believe that I had a pretty good idea of what to expect when I decided to join the Peace Corps about a year and half ago. I wanted an experience that would be frustrating at times, rewarding other times, and I wanted to push myself to the limit. I wanted a challenge that would make me a better person and appreciate my life in the United States more. When one joins the Peace Corps you can expect things like bucket baths, fierce bouts of diarrhea, and substantial culture shock. Thankfully we’ve been staying in a nice hotel (nice as in we have a/c and showers, but this is dramatically different than a “nice” hotel in the US) so I won’t be taking bucket baths for at least a few more days, and no bouts of diarrhea just yet, but I think that may change very soon (See earlier post from today).

We arrived on Friday evening after two long back to back flights. Going through customs was a breeze and we met some of the Peace Corps Kenya staff at the airport as well as a couple current volunteers. We loaded about a million pieces of luggage (there are 45 of us) onto two buses and headed to our hotel where we immediately crashed. The next day we met more of the staff here and went through a long meeting that introduced us to the Peace Corps and then we signed our lives away. A few of us, received three vaccinations and I’m sure more are on the way. Then we were split up into two groups and were off to different cities to begin our training. Thankfully, I was a part of the latter group and we’ve been lucky to spend the first week in a hotel while the other group is already staying with their host families. We will meet up with the others in a few days and we too will be living with our host families.

We left on a public bus from Nairobi to our training city. This was the first time we got to see Africa in the daylight. It was amazing. Within minutes of our departure, we saw a group of zebras and not long after that our bus had to slow down to allow ten giraffes to cross the road. Giraffes! It wasn’t quite the same as waiting for deer to cross the road back home. Still not yet adjusted to the difference in time zones and obviously jet lagged, I fell asleep. I woke up to the bus entering the outskirts of the city. Lining the roads were rows and rows of crumbling shacks and the most gut wrenching poverty I have ever seen.

CULTURE SHOCK. And that is an understatement.

We came to our hotel and unloaded our bags. Almost instantly, we were crowded by dozens of locals who were curious about a group of white people. Its safe to say we were all feeling uncomfortable. Still feeling jet lagged and now worn out from a hot eight hour bus ride across Kenya we crashed again. I went to bed that night seriously questioning my decision to come here after witnessing such drastically low levels of poverty.

The next day was just what I needed to raise my spirits. We visited two schools for the deaf. It was great to see the city in the daylight as we took a cramped minibus ride out of town to the schools. As soon as we exited the bus, we were greeted by dozens of deaf children. They were so happy to see us. They greeted us by introducing themselves in sign and finger spelling their names. I would sign my name and ask them a few questions using the sign language that I remember from classes I took long ago. A current volunteer led the class in a lesson. There were two interpreters present. One interpreted the KSL (Kenyan Sign Language) into English while another interpreted it into Swahili. Later on the trainees were partnered up with a deaf student and we practiced basic KSL together. This has been by far the best part of the trip. I was amazed at how approachable the children were and how eager they were to learn.

We received the same heartwarming welcome at the second school. I noticed many of the students could probably hear better than me. But I’ve been fortunate enough to use technology to my advantage and I like to think I can function just as well as a hearing person in almost every setting. But these kids never have and probably never will have the access to that same technology or ever have the resources to come close to affording something like hearing aids. That day I knew that while this entire experience would be extremely tough, it will be equally rewarding.

Everything I’ve seen so far has been pretty much exactly what I expected it to be. I’ve been in a couple of poverty ridden areas before but nothing like this. Perhaps its the added realization that I will be living in almost the same conditions for the next 27 months that scares me the most. And to think it was just a week ago that I drove home from Minneapolis in my parents luxurious 2002 Toyota Camry with heated leather seats and a sweet six disc CD changer (the car is still for sale, by the way) and now I’m traveling on uncomfortable buses on unpaved roads flying around every corner mere inches away from pedestrians and oncoming traffic. I would be lying if I didn’t say I’ve had second thoughts the past few days and I’m sure those thoughts will linger for a while. But I have been here for almost a week and already I’ve changed dramatically and who knows what I will be like in 27 months, well, 26 months and 24 days. Some of the current volunteers have told me that when they return to the US to visit, they feel as if they are having an identity crisis because of how they have changed.

Like I said just being here and seeing everything is a significant culture shock. But it is just that, a shock. I am already adapting to my new surroundings and becoming more comfortable by the day. Too many times I think about the future and what I will feel like when I am on the plane ride home and what kind of a person I will become. I’m sure I will have some regrets, mistakes and would probably do some things differently. But on that plane ride home, I want to be able to know that for the 27 months I lived in Africa I gave it everything I had.

I wanted a challenge…I think I found one.