My PC Love Story - When Opposites Attract
Two years ago, I made the most selfish decision of my life: to join the Peace Corps. After relocating to Washington D.C. just one year prior, I notified to my employer of my intention, pressed pause on newly made friendships, and prepared for what [I thought would be] a solitary life in rural Colombia. I knew that I was going to miss weddings, childbirths, and funerals. The time was ripe to break off from the linear projection my life was on and do something fascinating - something transforming – something that many people often put off their entire life until it’s too late. The decision wasn’t motivated by professional outcomes nor an escape from domestic obligations. It was personal, tied into my values and a need to expand my worldview.
In August 2016, I alphabetically boarded a flight with nineteen other strangers from across the U.S., whose origins ranged from Seattle to New York, and ages from 22 to 70, destined for Barranquilla, Colombia. Our reasons for joining were as diverse as our home of records. What we had in common was a bold decision to leave behind our lives in search for something novel, which we hoped to find in South America.
Sleep deprived and running on pure adrenaline, we filed off the plane and were promptly swallowed by the heavy coastal heat. One by one, we passed through airport customs and were welcomed by an energetic swarm of current staff and Peace Corps volunteers. I mingled the best I could while uncomfortably awaiting a chance to board the bus back to our hotel.
The time came to take a group photo and everyone scrambled into formation. Rather than rush to fill the space, I took my time (as I often do), and let others carve out their spots first. I was still standing on the side of the crowd when Yadezi, from Miami, Florida, called me over and proceeded to carve out a spot for me down in front. She threw her arm around me - I leaned in - and my qualms momentarily subsided before we retreated to the hotel (pictured above).
Pre-service training (PST) got underway, first, with a several-day hotel stay equipped with the only air conditioning we would have for a while. Our group of 20 strangers began to evolve into a cohort during this time. Everyone was overtly friendly and generous towards one another, even as cliques naturally started to form. So when Yadezi came down with a fever asked me to borrow my jacket during our meetings, I ran to my room and lent her mine without thinking twice (I later found out she had plenty of jackets). A couple days later, when I was the only person without a host family and instead staying in a hotel room for the first week of PST, Yadezi texted me just to just see how I was doing and keep my spirits high. It wasn’t until when Yadezi asked me to be her partner in a pool “chicken fight” that I finally noticed a pattern emerging ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
To say we bonded during this time is an understatement. We fell in love and spent as much time together as possible because after our sites locations were announced, nothing was guaranteed. Little by little, we broke down each others’ public facing facades, often at our favorite bakery eating fresh banana bread after training or in my host mother’s secluded little garden swinging back and forth on the oversized hammock. During lunch breaks and after giving me her leftover lunch scraps, we walked around the iguana pond and vented to one another about the day’s or week’s frustration (to which there was never a shortage). We took an interest in each other in a way only two people who are total opposites could have.
People reveal their true colors during challenging times; PST provided no shortage. To add to the stress of piloting the first ever PST for the Community Economic Development program in Colombia, our personalities and behaviors were being monitored and evaluated by staff and shared at bi-weekly, closed-door, roundtables amongst them. If behavior was [arbitrarily] observed that was “uncharacteristic” of a Peace Corps Volunteer, a formal letter was delivered to a volunteer to acknowledging a need to change their subject behavior, of which, Yadezi and I each received one. As a result, relationship became our greatest assets and liability.
Pressure came from every which direction and tears were inevitably shed. Whether analyzing work demands, adjusting to a complete shift in culture, or enduring physical discomforts, such as 100 degree heat, no running water, or lack of nutritious food - the stress kept coming. Yadezi and I dealt with the challenges and anxieties we faced always in each other’s company, even if it sometimes meant avoiding larger group activities. We invested in one another.
During one-on-one interviews prior to our permanent site announcements, volunteers were asked by staff if they had any preference to which I responded “Put me anywhere, in any site…I have no preference…except being near Yadezi would make me very happy.” The Site Announcement Ceremony came towards the end of our 3 months of pre-service training. We knew the list of sites could potentially separate volunteers by as little as 15 minute or as much as 15 hours.
Some sites were more desirable than others and most people had their favorites. My site was announced first. “Talaigua Nuevo, Bolivar”, they said, and everyone clapped, though clearly the majority of people, not even staff, really knew where Talaigua was or what it was like. I didn’t care at that point either. I just wanted to know Yadezi’s site and how long it would take to get there from Talaigua. My foot tapped uncontrollably waiting. I could barely think. Finally, The Language and Cultural Facilitator gave a speech that concluded with “San Jacinto, Bolivar… Yadezi Abreu.” My heart skipped a beat. “Bolivar? That’s my department too”. I franticly googled where the two towns were located and learned that they were separated by three short hours. I cried a bit of joy on the inside - maybe outside too.
The roadmap for service was set. I had “my person”, my site, and directions on how to connect the two. Since then we’ve spent the year and a half confiding and supporting one another the same way we did during the initial weeks and months of service and lavishing every chance to spend our weekends away together. I’d make ill-advised daytrips just to give her a hug when she need it in the morning and depart in the afternoon. We are regulars at Mister Chef, a local restaurant near San Jacinto, whose breaded chicken was her favorite dish. Back in Talaigua, my host mom embraced her as if she were my wife; my teenage high school knew her by name and always remarked how “bella” (beautiful) she was when I showed them photos of us; members of my soccer team requested for her to attend our matches because they said I play better when she’s there. We’ve taken nearly every vacation day together, traveled to the U.S., and met each other’s families in both Colombia and New York. We’ve been planning for the long haul.
However, certain challenges crept up. And challenges that are unfair, unhealthy, and/or dangerous can become serious risks that can jeopardize the long-term wellbeing of a volunteer. So when Yadezi decided that enough was enough, and that her PC service must come to an end, I supported her whole heartedly. With a heavy heart I helped her pack her bags and tie up loose ends in whatever way I could. We knew this is far from the end. Rather, it was the beginning of the next chapter of our relationship: post-Peace Corps. Ironically, the solitary life I had anticipated in Colombian 19 months earlier was about to arrive.
This past Saturday I met her at the airport in Cartagena to say goodbye. We sat at the Juan Valdez café as long as possible until she had to leave. I threw my arms around her like she did to me 19 months ago at the airport when I was lost and out of place, except, this time with a kiss too.
Yadezi’s service was interrupted but our relationship was not. She continues to encourage me to finish Peace Corps and is waiting patiently for the close of service. While she waits for me stateside, I wait for her in Colombia. If in the end I never accomplished a single project objective, I will still leave Peace Corps happy knowing that I met her here. Having been bent but not broken, we’ve passed the stress test.
The time came to take a group photo and everyone scrambled into formation. Rather than rush to fill the space, I took my time (as I often do), and let others carve out their spots first. I was still standing on the side of the crowd when Yadezi, from Miami, Florida, called me over and proceeded to carve out a spot for me down in front. She threw her arm around me - I leaned in - and my qualms momentarily subsided before we retreated to the hotel (pictured above).
Pre-service training (PST) got underway, first, with a several-day hotel stay equipped with the only air conditioning we would have for a while. Our group of 20 strangers began to evolve into a cohort during this time. Everyone was overtly friendly and generous towards one another, even as cliques naturally started to form. So when Yadezi came down with a fever asked me to borrow my jacket during our meetings, I ran to my room and lent her mine without thinking twice (I later found out she had plenty of jackets). A couple days later, when I was the only person without a host family and instead staying in a hotel room for the first week of PST, Yadezi texted me just to just see how I was doing and keep my spirits high. It wasn’t until when Yadezi asked me to be her partner in a pool “chicken fight” that I finally noticed a pattern emerging ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Pressure came from every which direction and tears were inevitably shed. Whether analyzing work demands, adjusting to a complete shift in culture, or enduring physical discomforts, such as 100 degree heat, no running water, or lack of nutritious food - the stress kept coming. Yadezi and I dealt with the challenges and anxieties we faced always in each other’s company, even if it sometimes meant avoiding larger group activities. We invested in one another.
During one-on-one interviews prior to our permanent site announcements, volunteers were asked by staff if they had any preference to which I responded “Put me anywhere, in any site…I have no preference…except being near Yadezi would make me very happy.” The Site Announcement Ceremony came towards the end of our 3 months of pre-service training. We knew the list of sites could potentially separate volunteers by as little as 15 minute or as much as 15 hours.
Some sites were more desirable than others and most people had their favorites. My site was announced first. “Talaigua Nuevo, Bolivar”, they said, and everyone clapped, though clearly the majority of people, not even staff, really knew where Talaigua was or what it was like. I didn’t care at that point either. I just wanted to know Yadezi’s site and how long it would take to get there from Talaigua. My foot tapped uncontrollably waiting. I could barely think. Finally, The Language and Cultural Facilitator gave a speech that concluded with “San Jacinto, Bolivar… Yadezi Abreu.” My heart skipped a beat. “Bolivar? That’s my department too”. I franticly googled where the two towns were located and learned that they were separated by three short hours. I cried a bit of joy on the inside - maybe outside too.
The roadmap for service was set. I had “my person”, my site, and directions on how to connect the two. Since then we’ve spent the year and a half confiding and supporting one another the same way we did during the initial weeks and months of service and lavishing every chance to spend our weekends away together. I’d make ill-advised daytrips just to give her a hug when she need it in the morning and depart in the afternoon. We are regulars at Mister Chef, a local restaurant near San Jacinto, whose breaded chicken was her favorite dish. Back in Talaigua, my host mom embraced her as if she were my wife; my teenage high school knew her by name and always remarked how “bella” (beautiful) she was when I showed them photos of us; members of my soccer team requested for her to attend our matches because they said I play better when she’s there. We’ve taken nearly every vacation day together, traveled to the U.S., and met each other’s families in both Colombia and New York. We’ve been planning for the long haul.
However, certain challenges crept up. And challenges that are unfair, unhealthy, and/or dangerous can become serious risks that can jeopardize the long-term wellbeing of a volunteer. So when Yadezi decided that enough was enough, and that her PC service must come to an end, I supported her whole heartedly. With a heavy heart I helped her pack her bags and tie up loose ends in whatever way I could. We knew this is far from the end. Rather, it was the beginning of the next chapter of our relationship: post-Peace Corps. Ironically, the solitary life I had anticipated in Colombian 19 months earlier was about to arrive.This past Saturday I met her at the airport in Cartagena to say goodbye. We sat at the Juan Valdez café as long as possible until she had to leave. I threw my arms around her like she did to me 19 months ago at the airport when I was lost and out of place, except, this time with a kiss too.
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