The Job of a Peace Corps Volunteer
Often enough, people ask me why I included an apparently-nonsensical word in my blog url address. “Palagi,” pronounced ‘Pah-langh-gii’ is actually the Samoan word for “other” or “outsider.” (For those of you who don’t know me, I spent 6 months studying in Samoa while I was a junior in college – I know, I know – I guess I like living in small, relatively unvisited countries with three-syllable names).
Thinking back, I would have to admit that this word was the Samoan term I heard the most frequently while living there. Whether it was said about me in the context of an introduction, whispered behind my back as I walked by, or used in a greeting to get my attention (somewhere along the lines of “hey you, palagi, come over here!”– It was crystal clear that we (my classmates and I) didn’t belong – weren’t Samoan and definitely weren’t “from here,” AND that it was perfectly acceptable to draw attention to these facts.
(Side bar: At the beginning of our time in Samoa we were under the impression that the word Palagi meant “white man,” but our language teacher later explained to us that this was more of a connotation – the Samoans used the word also while observing other Pacific Islanders, etc. It’s just as an island in the middle of the Pacific, most of the “visitors” that come are white – you don’t get as much of the border crossing / population mixing as you would in Europe, for example, while living on an isolated island).
As Americans we tend to think towards assimilation; it’s considered rude to call people out on their differences – the fat one, the one who talks funny, the one who isn’t “ours”, especially publicly. The entire time we were in Samoa we remained palagi – living with host families, eating the same food as Samoans eat – integration was never the goal, cultural learning through immersion was. There is a difference. (In fact, the reason I chose the SIT - School for International Training in Samoa program was its focus on immersion, that many study abroad programs didn't have). Through this focus, we became the Palagis who could speak Samoan, the Palagis who stay here for more than a week, the Palagis who knew not to walk in front of elders but behind them— but that term always stuck with it, and colored what we did.
So why did I take this Samoan word and apply it to my Peace Corps service in Moldova? (Before I even showed up in Moldova, before I took part in any Peace Corps training events, and before I met even one Moldovan…) Because I understood from the beginning that the Peace Corps (anywhere in the world you are working for them) is about being different, being a stranger, being aware that you are the odd one and being more of an American than you ever thought you were, or ever identified yourself as.
This is not to say the Peace Corps is about not-belonging… in my personal understanding, the job of a Peace Corps Volunteer, at its core, is about coming to belong to a place you once were an outsider to.
Belonging to another place doesn’t mean giving up the place where you used to belong – you probably still belong there too (and they hopefully want you back). Coming to shed the outsider status doesn’t necessarily entail having to shed your cultural identity or personal beliefs - I never expected to not be referred to as "American." But it does mean dividing your loyalty, your heart, your home, your attention span, and essentially yourself.
How many of us ever belong somewhere other than our home? College I attended, but never called my home – it was always, “where I was studying away from home.” (I personally, was never one to call “home” – anywhere I lay my head, anywhere I live – “home” to me is my HOME. I’m very careful about how I use that word.) Perhaps as we grow older, move around and establish families, we create for ourselves new homes, in fact I know we do, we have to. But in those cases it is usually somewhere in America, with Americans – and while you may have felt like it, you probably were never a real outsider, just a neighbor from a different part of town, who talks a little funny, or uses a different amount of mayonnaise in potato salad. Living in America, talking about partisan differences, the Christian right, regional dialects- you lose sight of how much you have in common; perhaps you can’t realize how uniting the factor of “being American” is until you have lived abroad.
Being in the Peace Corps is accepting the fact that you are an outsider, but going with it anyway. It is adapting yourself, not trying to change the world/culture/host family around you. I always compare my time in Moldova with my time in Samoa because they are my only two living experiences. But honestly, they shouldn’t be compared. We lived and observed, respectfully, life in Samoa. In Moldova, we live life, are a part of life, make our own life - even if we didn't expect to, even if we used phases when leaving America such as "taking a break from life" or "leaving it all behind", even if we knew it wasy always temporary. We have a life here now, too.
This feeling right now, as I am thinking about the last 2.5 months I have in the Peace Corps, is new to me – it is a feeling of not only having two homes, but of really belonging two places.
So while I still am “the Americanca” which I guess is equivalent to “the palagi,” I am now “our Americanca” to the people of my town. And that one little, three-letter word is the result of all my two years Peace Corps work – officially towards “the promotion of peace and friendship” but ultimately towards “understanding and mostly, belonging.”
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I only fear that continuing my life here - comunicating with my friends, family and neighbors - will be a million times more difficult when I leave, than communicating with you in America is now. And i'm not ready to completely give it up. I like the double life. :)
This entry was posted
on Saturday, August 30, 2008 at 11:20 AM.
