This is a bonus episode, where I take some time to talk about the My Peace Corps Story podcast and share a little more about my service in Burkina Faso. In this episode, I confront my lifelong fear of reading aloud (sorta) and read the first two chapters of my book, Service Disrupted, with the addition of a few added soundscapes. I’d love to know what you think. Below, you’ll find the text of the first two chapters of my book, a plus bonus photos and videos for greater context. Enjoy!
Service Disrupted
Chapter 1 – May 29th – C.O.S.
I sat in the Peace Corps transit house, staring blankly at my laptop, waiting for a website to load. The transit house was where volunteers stayed in Ouagadougou, the capital of Burkina Faso, Ouaga. The two-story communal house contained two large rooms filled with rows of bunk beds, men’s and women’s dormitory style bathrooms, a large kitchen, a large living room, a balcony, a wrap-around screened-in-porch, and a cubby room lined with lockers. I sat in the large living room amongst other volunteers. The room’s furnishings consisted of several old couches, two long wooden dining room tables surrounded by chairs, unorganized bookshelves packed with paperback novels, and an assortment of eclectic art pieces cast off by former volunteers.
The transit house, which sat next door to the Burkina Faso Peace Corps office, was intended for volunteers who were either staying in Ouaga on official Peace Corps business, were in the capital for medical reasons, or were in transit across the country. Several fellow volunteers and I were in town for our Close of Service medical exams. Three other volunteers were closing their service (COSing)—completing the Peace Corps and heading home tomorrow. Many more were passing through town, hanging out, or here to say goodbye to those leaving.
It was Ascension Day, a Christian holiday observed by the Burkinabé government. Offices across Burkina Faso were closed, including ours. Today was a free day to lounge around the house, idly waiting for web pages to slowly load. A group of friends talked about going to the pool in the early afternoon, and afterward many of us would head to one of Ouaga’s fancy restaurants, a goodbye dinner for the three departing volunteers.
After spending a large chunk of our monthly income on one delicious meal, we would undoubtedly move to Dinario’s, a local bar with pool tables and, more importantly, cheap beer on tap. Lastly, the night would end at a dance club. I thought it was going to be a good day.
Surrounding me sat several volunteers of my training group, Group 26. Nearly two years ago, we came into our Peace Corps service together and we were now preparing for our departure. It didn’t feel like two years. The day I arrived in Burkina, a volunteer who was days away from completing her service gave me words of wisdom. She told me, “The days will be long, but the months will be short. It will be over before you know it. Enjoy it.”
She was right.
I spent countless days in my village, where the clock seemed to stand still. No matter what I did to fill my time with work, projects, and chores, I would arrive at 11:00 a.m. and wonder, Is it too early for a nap? Maybe I’ll have an early lunch.
Out of nowhere, September became October, and then I woke up two years in the future, unsure of where the time had gone.
For the past two years, I served as an agriculture and small business volunteer in Banzon, a rural village in Southwest Burkina Faso. For my primary assignment, I worked with a women’s cooperative that processed and packaged locally harvested rice. My job as a Peace Corps Volunteer, however, was hard to define. Day after day, I searched for ways to make a difference in my community.
Over the 24 months as a volunteer,
