I am a Peace Corps Volunteer.

The sounds of loud Indian men singing along with great fervor (though a bit off tune probably due to a long yaqona session) to an Indian favorite vibrates through the walls of my mint green home, and the smell of fish still lingers from my dinner with La and Waqa. It’s taken me about a month to take everything in before I could find time to stop looking around and write about it. It’s surreal to think that this place has finally become home to me. I belong here. As I lay in bed a film reel of all the scenes I have been a part of in the last three months rolls through my head. Getting off the plane I was ecstatic…and yet not fully aware of what I just walked into. I boarded a plane in the LAX airport amidst the hustle and bustle of urban American life and stepped off the plane with an immediate stickiness to my skin into the quiet nighttime Fijian air. Weighed down by luggage I wasn’t quite sure I needed and thoughts that refused to let me get a good night of sleep for several weeks prior to arrival, I plopped into bed relieved to finally begin my adventure as a peace corps volunteer. Fast forward to meeting my host family. Despite the week of training to “prepare” us for life with our new families, the moment I entered that house a lump formed in my throat and the ability to speak in my usually boisterous voice was suddenly gone. As I fumbled around for words to say…trying to remember the few phrases Mahen jii taught us to brighten the mood I think something along the lines of “namas…raam…kaa…hi, I’m Sarah” came out. I would soon be branded with a new identity “Swastika” and expected to roll out perfectly round roti, spend my day in doors like a good Indian woman, and sit Indian style (which has now taken on a whole new meaning) for hours worth of pooja. Homestay is the most challenging and rewarding experience a person can go through. While mine was less than desirable, living in such close quarters with a family who is speaking a completely foreign language, cooking foods with spices you had no idea even existed, and existing in a family with much different roles and expectations than what one is used to at home really helps one to see more clearly the many similarities between the two cultures. The differences become much less important and the ability to share an overlap in culture—the love of dance, the telling of stories & jokes, mourning the loss of a loved one and celebrating the joining of two in love—the recognizition of our common humanity is what makes homestay so wonderful. The reel moves quickly like an old black and white film paired with instrumental music….with scenes of Esta gleefully sticking playdoh to my forehead, Anna washing my muddy feet after an intense Frisbee game, Kakii laughing with me over the grog bowl, and Auntie Mela calling me over for tea. Of course training also entailed a lot of interaction with our local trainers, all of whom I would soon grow to view as peers and some adopted members of my new Fijian family. There were late night talanoa sessions, and dance parties. My group of 32 American Peace Corps volunteers would ask our naïve, laughable questions and the locals would smile politely remembering what they were told about the nature of a new peace corps volunteer, and gracefully answer, hoping that one day soon their hard work would pay off. Without the patience of Kini, La, Dee, JT, karoka, and Mahen helping us through every faux pau and misinterpretation of a Fijian attitude or behavior…or Mesu & Isoa who humbly taught a bunch of self righteous, know it all college graduates from the U.S. about work in Fiji…or Tukai who appeared miraculously anytime we stepped out into the pouring rain afraid we’d have to walk the distance to training…or Asaeli & Joe who put up with every comment, question, concern, or request we had…one of the 32 of us would have been back on a plane to America, but instead here we are…one month into our volunteer service. Each one of us has a different story, and each one of us will experience Fiji in a slightly different way…but each one of us can proudly say that on July 24th we swore in as a Peace Corps volunteer.
-August, 2008