Choose your own adventure

a day in the life of a PCV in Rambo

You wake up to the mating of donkeys and a rooster that is adamant about the morning hour. The sun is peaking through your iron window shades. You're contemplating not getting out of bed this morning when children start to scream outside your door. For a moment your heart panics and you wish to rush outside to save them from certain death then you realize it was only a small herd of baby goats. They call them 'kids' for a reason, after all.

The eliptico cot creaks and the foam bounces back as you lift yourself from the bed and stretch. The concrete is cool on your feet. The small room is still a cold seventy degrees from the winter night so you are rushing to slide on a pair of pajama pants when you hear a knock on the door. You check your cracked cellphone to find it is only 6:00 a.m. You hear the knock again.

Do you answer the door?

Yes (click here)
No (click here)

CYOA 1a

You mumble obscenities under your breath for the continual pounding your poor tin door is taking. The continual clanging of the courtyard door is a hornet in the boot of your morning so you stumble out of the two-room house and stare wearily over the tin door.

"good day, sir" (translated for your viewing pleasure) a small boy says as his face widens in a smile. he laughs at your bed-head and obvious 'white'-person-weirdness. "how goes it?"

"fine. how's it with you?" Your murmur of a reply.

"good. i came to ask if you have a piece of chalk for me?" He extends his hand towards you, palm up.

"chalk?" Your reply only encourages the boy to ask again. This time, you notice the crusted dirt and scabs that obscure the coloring of his upturned hand. His shirt seems to be of the same order, followed by his pants and what you assume are some sort of self-repaired flipflops. The kid smiles again.

Do you give the kid a piece of chalk from inside?

Yes (click here)
No (click here)

CYOA 1b

You have yet to make a noise or show any signs of life so you pretend to be sleeping. With any luck, they'll just go away. You wait a moment to see if there will be anymore tapping on the tin door of your courtyard. Silence, then a sudden pounding. The tin door is rattling in its wooden frame. You fear the entire mud-brick courtyard wall will collapse but you wait. It stops. You breath and sit down on the edge of the cot.

Your thoughts turn to breakfast. Do I want oatmeal or pancakes? You go through the list of ingredients in your head and realize it will be oatmeal. It was oatmeal yesterday and will be oatmeal tomorrow. At least the brown sugar is plentif... There comes a rush of banging and "sir, sir" (translated just for you) on your window shades above the bed. It rattles on for a minute but you are a deer in headlights. You dare not move or make a sound.

Five minutes pass in the cacophony of the window pounding. Then it stops and small footsteps are heard running off while a giggle traces their path. You cautiously slide open the shades and see a small boy racing to punch another smiling boy. They are both laughing.

So, oatmeal it is. You prepare the breakfast, eat it and immediately rinse out the disk, returning it to the top of the bookshelf beside all the other cooking utensils. Now that you are awake, you prepare warm water on the camp stove and pour it into a bucket then head outside.

In the small, walled area used for both a latrine and shower you strip down to nothing but flipflops. You bathe by using a small plastic cup that you dip into the bucket then pour over yourself. The contrast between the warm water and cool breeze gives you the shivers. You remember back to all the days through heat of the summer and fall when you thought you would never again get the shivers. You smile.

After finishing, you pick up the pair of pants that you have been wearing to class for the last week and put them on. You decide the old shirt has too many chalk stains so you sport for a new one. On the way out the door, you finish your ensemble with your schoolbag made from a rice sack that cost you twenty five cents in the market.

Your bike is waiting in the courtyard. You hop on it and suddenly remember your helmet. Do you go back inside to get it or head to school?

Just Go To School (click here)
Go Get Helmet (click here)

CYOA 1a-2a

You heart breaks and you give the poor kid a piece of chalk that you've found inside. He jumps for joy and screams "chalk, chalk". Upon hearing this, twelve other children come running to your door ready with palms upwards and screaming "chalk, chalk". It becomes a chant. Before you know it, you've given away all of your chalk and still have children demanding a second piece. All of them are giggling. You look to see where their parents are for relief, you find none. Your door is mass of giggling children. You go back inside.

After a few minutes, the tide wanes and you breath easier. You look at your clock and realize you have to choose between breakfast or a bucket bath. You choose breakfast. Oatmeal is your only option so you prepare it in a hurry, eat it, then rush out the door, grabbing your rice sack on the way. Once outside your courtyard door, the children see you and start screaming again just as you remember your helmet.

Do you go back for your helmet?

Yes, then to school (click here)
No. Forget it. I'm fine without it (click here)

CYOA 1b-2a end

You go to school and all is well. You teach and have a good day, such a good day that you think of heading to a nearby village to see your nearest neighbor. After biking the 22 k to visit your fellow Peace Corps Volunteer, you are seen by a passing Peace Corps administrator without your helmet. They subsequently take your bike, leaving you to walk home. You get home only to find a car waiting. It's white body with the PC emblem on the side sends shivers down your spine. It's the Safety and Security Officer. He's surrounded by villagers that are placing your belongings into the car.

Before you know it, you are on a plane home with a big Administratively Separated notice stamped on your forehead. Should have worn your helmet.

Fin

CYOA 1a-2b

You give the child a sad shrug and tell him that you have no chalk by showing him your empty pockets. He kicks the ground then smiles before running off to hit a nearby boy. They both run down the path towards the primary school, giggling.

You slump back inside with a thought towards breakfast. You know it's only oatmeal on the shelf so you prepare it. It's warm and satisfying. You feel rotten about disappointing the kid so you skip your bath and sulk for a moment. Then you head back outside to watch the morning parade of small children walking themselves to school.

The boys hold each other's hands as they stare blankly at you. The girls avert their eyes directly from you but continue to look from the corner of them. They swing their clasped hands.

Stretching as he smiles, your neighbor appears from behind his small muddy wall and extends his hands with a "good morning". You exchange the salutations and ask each other about your sleep, health, family, school and life. All the replies are "good" and you notice that he didn't laugh at your use of the local language. It's a small victory worth savoring.

He then asks if you are going to school today as if it were perfectly natural for you to decide not to teach on any given day. You say that you'll be leaving shortly and you just wanted to say good morning.

Soon you're head to school with your rice sack full of teaching material and an awkward helmet flopping on your head. As you bike the kilometer to school, the students try to race you on their bikes. This morning, you go for it and laugh when you realize that you have the simple advantage of changing gears. They pedal and pedal as you casually glide. As you reach school, you're a bit worked up and they are exhausted. You laugh and say "to class, quickly" with a smile.

(click here)

CYOA 3

At school, the kids swarm past you and rush into the open door. You look at the small, worn structure and it's four rooms, each with pushing children trying to enter. The image strikes you as playful, odd and sad all in the same moment. When the last of them squeezes by you, you make your entrance.

Immediately all the kids spring up in their chairs as if you were the president himself. Upon saying "good morning, class", they reply with an enthusiastic "good morning, sir". You tell them to be seated and they rush to sit down as if they have never had the privilege. You begin the class by writing the date on the chalkboard.

As you start your lesson, you hear a faint knock on the metal door of the room. You look over and two students are peaking around the doorway into the class. They are late and now have everyone's attention. You walk over and, after their salutations, ask them why they were not on time. They just stare. Their eyes are empty and glazed, looking past you. You wave your hand and they focus, looking at you. Again, you ask. They look at the floor and one replies "our bikes were broken". This is the standard excuse, unprovable and most likely untrue.

Do you punish the late students or just let them sit down so you can continue the class?

Punish them (click here)
Let them sit down (click here)

CYOA 3a

Time for Major Payne. Where is the switch?! Well, actually you have more fun creatively making the students do math. After all, you are a math teacher. Thus, you have the little hoodlums in front of the class and ask them to solve problems in their head. The class enjoys the game that is secretly a review of yesterday's material. Each wrong answer brings a red face and a small laugh from the class. You encourage them with "good job" and "that was a good try" in order to keep the embarrassment from becoming psychological damage. Then you remind them that they can avoid the embarrassment altogether by coming to class on time.

The class is right on page with you and the lesson. You already have your material reviewed so you start into the new chapter. At times you notice that some of the eyes are glazing over. At these moments, you pull out your old trick of calling on nick-named students. The second you call on Bandito, Parrot, Bambi or Scarface, the class snaps back and laughs at the exotic use of 'english'. You ask them if they would like you to continue in english for the rest of the class. You get an enthusiastic "YES!" from everyone. After three sentences of explanation, you ask if anyone understands anything. They just shake their heads and laugh. You finish the lesson in french and participation continues on course.

At the end of the class, you are feeling energized for the day so you stay back and chat with some of the students. They ask typical questions; can i ride your bike, can i have your bike, can i have your helmet, can i have some money. Eventually, you decide to distract them with photos from home. They are thrilled.

You show them pictures of your family, significant other and your last vacation skiing. You explain to them that the temperature was below freezing on top of the mountain and they about faint. This is when you realize that half the students are wearing parkas while you remain in short sleeves. The temperature is a whooping 75 degrees (F).

Before too long, your fellow professors gather with the students and chat about the photos. They laugh at how you never seem to get cold but almost die in the heat of the summer. How strange you are indeed.You all talk some more and they compliment you on how far your french has come along. They follow the compliment with a remark on their desire to learn english and how hard they find it. You decide to make plans to meet every week to talk a bit in english and help them develop the skill. Their eyes widen and you smile. One of the professors asks you over for tea. After so much translation from french to english and back, you are exhausted.

Do you go anyway or head home and take a nap?

Go ahead. Tea is quick. (click here)
Get some sleep. Uff. (click here)

CYOA 3a-4a end

Graciously, you accept the offer for tea. After all, to refuse would be impolite. Together, the professor and you head to his house just off school grounds. He prepares the tea that is strong and tastes like an adventure. You suddenly remember that not everyone is in Africa, speaking a new language and hanging out with the locals in a small village. The world is suddenly surreal and you find that you are having the time of your life laughing and joking with your colleague. You range all over different topics from the welcomed appearance of some vegetables in the market to the inauguration of President Obama. You swell with pride for your homeland and for your connection to this new soil. The tea is soon gone. You depart with a blessing and an amen.

At home, you prepare your version of mexican food. You make a note to give some of the extra tortillas to your director. He loved them last time. Though, you do decide to keep the hand, tree and star shaped tortillas for yourself.

While reading in the evening, you receive a knock on the tin door. You open it to find a horde of kids waiting to come in. You go an flip on the external light, the only external light in this part of the non-electrified village (thanks to the last volunteer giving you a solar panel). You sprawl out the mats and help the kids until late in the night. The conversation runs through math, english, history and random cultural questions. You explain the idea behind constellations and why you have decided to grow out your hair. They show disbelief when you talk about the men that went to the moon. You ask them how far they have gone and they average around 15 k away. Somewhere in the conversation, you even put in a few inspirational stories about people that lifted themselves out of difficult situations. Their laughter and chatter still echo into the night as they head home around midnight.

In the closing of your day, you find yourself in an odd place of satisfaction. When you try to write the accomplishments of the day in your journal, you are empty of words but not of substance. You aren't saving the world like you thought but it is saving you. You close your eyes to one thought: "i'll never have to say that i should have..."

fin

CYOA 3b

Maybe this time their excuse was valid so you say they can sit down. They practically jump for joy and even give their fellow students playful nudges as they sit. Soon you discover the entire class is whispering and chatting with each other. You tell them to settle down but nobody is listening. You raise your voice with a "silence!" yet they continue on. Finally, you say the magic words "minus one for everyone". The class is quiet for a moment. Then erupts in argument.

"But, mister that isn't fair"
"Sir, we weren't talking" (though they were)
"No, sir. You can't do that"
"Why, sir? Why?"
"Please, sir. Please"

The pleas and arguments continue on and on, louder than the original chatter. You are lost as to what to do next. So, you tell them class is finished and there will be a test tomorrow on the material you were suppose to cover. All the students are quiet and still. You go back to teaching your lesson even though half of the class time is already gone. You get only about a third of the way through the material because every question revolves are the test that is supposedly tomorrow, even though you've long since explained that it won't be since the class is better behaved.

After class, you are exhausted so you only say "hi" to the other professors and go home to cook dinner and relax. While you wait for the beans to boil on the small stove, you are so worn that you drift to sleep. When you wake your small hut is an inferno which you barely escape. Due to complications from the inhaled smoke, you develop respiratory issues and the PCMO medically separates you from the PC. Soon you are on a plane home with nothing more than a bad cough.

Fin

CYOA 3a-4b end

You decide to go home and get some sleep. You politely refuse and see the disappointment in his eyes. You tell him that you would love to next time but you have had a long day and need a rest. Everyone wishes you a good afternoon and heads their separate ways.

At home, you prepare a few tortillas, rice and beans on your camp stove. Shortly after, you doze off in the warm afternoon. The next thing you know, someone is banging on your tin door. You rise, notice it is night time and go to open the door.

Standing there is the president of the local parent's association with the school. He asks you if all is well and you say it is going fine. He tells you that he is concerned because he thinks something bad happened between you and one of the professors. You are shocked. Everything went so well today. You tell this to your visitor. He replies that you had told a fellow professor that you did not want to have tea with him. He asks you what he can do to heal the divide between you and the professor. You laugh internally at the simple disconnect in cultures and explain that you really like the professor but have been a little under the weather. Immediately, your visitor nods his head and wishes you the best of health. You step back inside, a little dazed.

The rest of your evening is uneventful. Nobody else stops by so you finish another book you took from the Transit House before bed. The next morning you head back to work to continual greetings of "the best of health to you."

Fin