The Peace Corps Revisited
My life in the Peace Corps will always go down in my personal history as one of my sturdiest, most immovable milestones you can imagine. I honestly don't think my life would be the same now without my PC experience, as I am sure most RPCV's agree. The PC experience was a constant adventure, tip-toeing that tightrope between a laugh and a tear. And though no longer a volunteer, I see not much has changed, judging from the Peace Corps here in Jordan.
Peace Corps Jordan invited all RPCV's (Returning Peace Corps Volunteers, although I prefer the term 'retired') to a dinner in order to probe the possibilities of a joint venture between known RPCV's in the area and active PCV's. A trash pick-up was suggested. Though many of us had our reservations about this, the RPCV's eagerly gave their consent to assist in any way they could, my wife and I among them.
Now I have experience with trash pick-ups. I organized one myself as a PCV in Morocco. Morocco is really not that much different from Jordan. Both countries have kings, have similar cultures, speak the same language although in different dialects... and most people have issues with the phrase 'don't litter'. The park at first proposed was Ghamadan Park, a vast area as large as a good-sized city park anywhere in the States. The problem is, people here don't keep order, don't clean up after themselves, and with the absence of public restrooms, frequently feel free to drop their drawers and offer a gift to Mother Nature on the spot.
The first bombshell came a week after we proposed Ghamadan Park. The authorities immediately nixed this idea, stating it was too big and not feasible. Wow, these folks positively shot the gift horse in the mouth. Although, truth be told, I understand the part about it not being feasible. Let's face it: after the pickup, how will the park look a year from now? If you guessed that there will be a trash bin for every hundred square meters, public restrooms that automatically clean themselves, and park rangers wagging their fingers at environmental perpetrators, then you probably think that the sun revolves around the earth. What's less, we didn't even get any locals to assist in the pickup, nor did I see any when the actual day of the event arrived.
Ah, but details, details. We agreed to meet anyway and just have fun and enjoy the fresh air for the day (unless we were picking up loaded diapers). The place agreed on eventually was a nice little park located on the side of a hill a few miles from the center of the city. We hired two busses to take the PCV's and RPCV's, while others agreed to follow with their own vehicles. When we finally arrived at what we thought to be the place, there was not a soul around, not one person on a sunny Friday morning. But wait, there was a man, a local guy there all by his lonesome and what was he doing... picking up trash! This was becoming weird indeed. Somewhere I was hearing that eerie Twilight Zone jingle.
Then we found out that this wasn't really the place we were looking for and began driving in circles for a half hour or so. My wife and I had a good laugh about this. Yep, this was still the Peace Corps, whether it was the locals planning the projects or the volunteers. Maybe if I watch the Blues Brothers for the fifty-first time, the cops might actually catch Jake and Elwood without destroying billions of dollars of property and razing half the city of Chicago. It can't hurt to hope.
We finally found the place and went to work. I realized the Peace Corps picked a good spot. The only place you could have found more trash in would have been a landfill. There was work to be done there, no doubt about it. So we picked up our black plastic bags and went to work. Man, you could find everything...bottles, diapers, bags, old shoes, old clothes, you name it.
I filled five bags when I heard a shriek coming from the other side of the hill. Turns out our son we had brought with us was rolling down the hill in his carriage. The carriage flipped over, Baby bumped himself, and cried bloody murder for this mortal betrayal by his parents, the park, and, what the heck, let's throw in the rest of the world just for kicks.
That ended the pick-up for us, as it is really hard to ignore a bleeding baby. I don't know how it all ended. My guess is that people picked up a lot of trash and that everybody was proud of a job well done. My guess is also that the boulder Sisyphus rolled up the hill will come roaring back down, not unlike my son in his carriage.
Why do we even care about cleaning up a park that will look like a sewer maybe half a year later? I don't know. Maybe for the same reason we believe that world poverty and global warming can be reversed. Laughable if you first look at it, sure. But even after the last green space will be consumed by sand or asphalt, we must never forget that there are still people who act while others merely talk.
Hail to the Peace Corps!
Peace Corps Jordan invited all RPCV's (Returning Peace Corps Volunteers, although I prefer the term 'retired') to a dinner in order to probe the possibilities of a joint venture between known RPCV's in the area and active PCV's. A trash pick-up was suggested. Though many of us had our reservations about this, the RPCV's eagerly gave their consent to assist in any way they could, my wife and I among them.
Now I have experience with trash pick-ups. I organized one myself as a PCV in Morocco. Morocco is really not that much different from Jordan. Both countries have kings, have similar cultures, speak the same language although in different dialects... and most people have issues with the phrase 'don't litter'. The park at first proposed was Ghamadan Park, a vast area as large as a good-sized city park anywhere in the States. The problem is, people here don't keep order, don't clean up after themselves, and with the absence of public restrooms, frequently feel free to drop their drawers and offer a gift to Mother Nature on the spot.
The first bombshell came a week after we proposed Ghamadan Park. The authorities immediately nixed this idea, stating it was too big and not feasible. Wow, these folks positively shot the gift horse in the mouth. Although, truth be told, I understand the part about it not being feasible. Let's face it: after the pickup, how will the park look a year from now? If you guessed that there will be a trash bin for every hundred square meters, public restrooms that automatically clean themselves, and park rangers wagging their fingers at environmental perpetrators, then you probably think that the sun revolves around the earth. What's less, we didn't even get any locals to assist in the pickup, nor did I see any when the actual day of the event arrived.
Ah, but details, details. We agreed to meet anyway and just have fun and enjoy the fresh air for the day (unless we were picking up loaded diapers). The place agreed on eventually was a nice little park located on the side of a hill a few miles from the center of the city. We hired two busses to take the PCV's and RPCV's, while others agreed to follow with their own vehicles. When we finally arrived at what we thought to be the place, there was not a soul around, not one person on a sunny Friday morning. But wait, there was a man, a local guy there all by his lonesome and what was he doing... picking up trash! This was becoming weird indeed. Somewhere I was hearing that eerie Twilight Zone jingle.
Then we found out that this wasn't really the place we were looking for and began driving in circles for a half hour or so. My wife and I had a good laugh about this. Yep, this was still the Peace Corps, whether it was the locals planning the projects or the volunteers. Maybe if I watch the Blues Brothers for the fifty-first time, the cops might actually catch Jake and Elwood without destroying billions of dollars of property and razing half the city of Chicago. It can't hurt to hope.
We finally found the place and went to work. I realized the Peace Corps picked a good spot. The only place you could have found more trash in would have been a landfill. There was work to be done there, no doubt about it. So we picked up our black plastic bags and went to work. Man, you could find everything...bottles, diapers, bags, old shoes, old clothes, you name it.
I filled five bags when I heard a shriek coming from the other side of the hill. Turns out our son we had brought with us was rolling down the hill in his carriage. The carriage flipped over, Baby bumped himself, and cried bloody murder for this mortal betrayal by his parents, the park, and, what the heck, let's throw in the rest of the world just for kicks.
That ended the pick-up for us, as it is really hard to ignore a bleeding baby. I don't know how it all ended. My guess is that people picked up a lot of trash and that everybody was proud of a job well done. My guess is also that the boulder Sisyphus rolled up the hill will come roaring back down, not unlike my son in his carriage.
Why do we even care about cleaning up a park that will look like a sewer maybe half a year later? I don't know. Maybe for the same reason we believe that world poverty and global warming can be reversed. Laughable if you first look at it, sure. But even after the last green space will be consumed by sand or asphalt, we must never forget that there are still people who act while others merely talk.
Hail to the Peace Corps!
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