For Integration Purposes

If you want to compliment a Peace Corps Volunteer (not that our egos need any more boosting), compliment her integration. “Oh, I knew so-and-so, she was so well integrated!” What qualifies as praise-worthy integration will depend on who you ask, but it can range from a volunteer’s language or bargaining skills, to her ability to (and frequency with which) withstand long cultural events and/or terrible road conditions.

Being the competitive beings that PCVs are, integration is always a topic of discussion when we gather. The subtle ways volunteers try to one-up each other are exhausting. “Last week, I sat through a FOUR HOUR church service” one volunteer will complain. Another will respond “Four hours?! My service is six hours and I go every week”. While visiting a more ‘urban’ PCV, a particularly obnoxious colleague will remark on each and every amenity. “You’re so lucky you have electricity. I have to walk an hour just to charge my phone!” or, “Wow, the stores here sell mayonnaise; I only have one store in my village and it doesn’t even have toilet paper!” the most obscene, “OH MY GOD—you have a ROAD!” This is to say nothing of the general attitude PCVs have towards expats and other westerner’s living in developing countries. To put it modestly, our egos get carried away.

I believe a competitive spirit is essential to good work. As a PCV, I am party to many of these obnoxious chest beatings. Sometimes it feels necessary to validate your struggles out loud. It’s important to recognize, however, when this need to feel integrated, and the actions that accompany it, go too far.

In January, I received a text message from a person at my site who I considered a very good friend. This person was asking me for the equivalent of $200 because of a “family emergency”. Instead of immediately seeing red flags ($200 is almost my entire month’s living allowance) and politely telling this person that I could not lend such a large amount, a voice popped into my head. 

It was the voice of a PCV who I do not think is well integrated, telling me: “I would never lend any Rwandan money.  They’d never give it back. You can’t trust anyone here.” 

 Well, I would show her! I consider myself to be a very well integrated volunteer, with lots of friends in my community that I can trust. Obviously I can lend this friend the $100 I’ve been saving for months for my next vacation; this is a friend, with a good job, who will pay me back next week because this friend told me so, and because I am integrated and I know. IDIOT.

By April, I was mad. Polite comments throughout January and February, and repeated calls and pleas during the entire month of March had been ignored. I felt betrayed and disrespected. The usual “You’re white! You’re rich! Give me money! Give me food!” on the street stung even more than usual. Finally, I confessed to another friend. Immediately, this friend’s head dropped. “Alma, do you know how many times people have told me similar stories? This person is not to be trusted; this person has done such things before.” So much for integration, for knowing my community, for being able to trust. Was the PCV I looked down on right after all?

The friend I had confided in told me not to worry. “I will take care of it.” The next day I received another text message from my lender (we’ll call the person Sin Verguenza, Spanish for a person “without shame”, because that is what this person is). Sin Verguenza tells me “I’m sorry I have not been able to get back to you recently. My son is in the hospital about to undergo surgery and I have neglected some of my duties. Please forgive me. From the bottom of my heart, I am so sorry. I will pay you back as soon as I can”. I didn’t know if the story about the surgery was true, but I didn’t care. I was sick of excuses and called Sin Verguenza to demand the exact date I would be paid back. A date was given, and then ignored, twice more.

I have mentioned before that in Rwandan culture it is inappropriate to show or express any emotions. Conflict between two individuals seldom plays out directly. I have also mentioned before that I am a very direct and vocal person. So, when I saw this person next, I acted the only way yours truly knows how to act when angry: directly and passionately. “You should be ASHAMED of yourself! What you have done is despicable! Absolutely abominable! I helped you because I thought you were my friend: YOU ARE NOT. You make more than THREE times my salary, I am a VOLUNTEER, I came here to HELP your country, and here you are taking advantage of me! YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF!” I would be lying if I said I didn’t take out a lot of pent up anger and frustrations on Sin Verguenza. I don’t care, because this person is a sin verguenza, and I think this person deserved it.

Sin Verguenza tried to give me more excuses, which I quickly told Sin Verguenza to shove somewhere else. I was done hearing them. Pay me back, period. Sin Verguenza agreed, and again did not follow through. At the end of the week, the friend who I had confided in called me in. I should mention, this friend works in the same organization as Sin Verguenza, and has a position of authority over Sin Verguenza. My friend, along with another very, very dear friend, sat me down and apologized. They told me they wished I had asked them for advice sooner, and wrote me out a check (from the other dear friend’s personal bank account). I had worried enough, they told me. They would deal with Sin Verguenza from here. After making sure my friends had thought this through and I was not placing financial burden on anyone else, I thanked them from the bottom of my heart. Honestly, I don’t have words for how much the gesture has meant.

If you’re wondering what happened to Sin Verguenza, I don’t know. I refuse to answer phone calls; I have not seen Sin Verguenza around, nor do I want to. This person is shameless.

At the same time, I should also be (and am) ashamed. What I did was stupid. I did it because of my ego, so I could one up the other PCV. Instead, I caused a scene and gave my real friends extra problems. The truth: I do feel integrated in my community, the other PCV was wrong—while trust in a post-conflict country like Rwanda is difficult to come by, I have friends I can trust. Regardless, my “Peace Corps experience” is no more or less legitimate. A volunteer with electricity can experience just as many or more challenges as one without, and an expat worker who lives in Kigali and drives around in a Land Cruiser is often helping just as much or more than a PCV in the hills (well, maybe…).

So this all ends well, as do most of the stupid things PCVs do ‘in the name of integration’. But I would also suggest reading another blog, by an RPCV in Zambia, where “loneliness, stress, and some of the other hardships of being a PCV (...) end up with a strong desire/need to seek out some kind of companionship, comfort, or support” -- in essence, a desire to integrate-- led to a very different outcome.