Common Questions, Uncommon Answers

Many times, when I tell someone I’m joining that Peace Corps, at some point in the conversation, the following questions are asked:

“What are you going to do with Lucy?” (This is the first question 99% of the time. Nobody—not an exaggeration—asks about my cat.)

“Where are you going?” Mozambique “Did you get to pick?” Kind of.

“Doesn’t the application process take forever?” Medium, but the old process was way longer. Thanks Obama.

“How long will you be there?” A long time.

“How much stuff can you bring?” The same amount of stuff I would pack for a week-long trip to the beach, but less shoes.

“Are you excited?” Is that a question?

“Don’t you have to, like, get a lot of shots?” Yup. A lot. And then some more.

“I heard Medical Clearance takes forever. Is that true?” It felt like way longer than forever, if that’s even a thing.

So, I’m going to answer some of these questions here, fully equipped with typical charming Sarah sass. You’re welcome.

“Where are you going?” … “Did you get to pick?”

I’m going to Mozambique. It’s the Southern African country across the pond from Madagascar. Between South Africa and the ocean. There are beaches there. Really pretty ones, I hear.

When you go on the Peace Corps website to see what types of assignments are available, the site asks you to make some selections that help you narrow down where you want to go and what you want to do. It asks if you have a region preference (South America, Asia, Africa, Pacific Islands, etc.). Then it asks if you have a sector preference: Agriculture, Education, Health, etc. Once you choose those two things, it populates job listings that fit your selected criteria. It tells you what the job entails and what country you’d be in. At a point in the application process, Peace Corps asks you to fill out a form telling them your top three choices for jobs on the list. You would more than likely be considered for placement in one of those countries for one of those jobs that you put in that form.

Well, I didn’t favor any options and I didn’t pick from a list. When it was time for me to fill out the form, I chose:

No preference

No Preference

No Preference

And in an open-ended comment box below that, I typed: “I have a very strong math background, and I love working with kids. I think I’d be a great math teacher.” I’ll let you get this straight: Yes, I’m committing to serving 27 months of my life in an underdeveloped country. And no, I chose to not have a say in where that was. I literally said “Send me anywhere in the world and I’ll go. And it’s probably a good idea to let me do something mathy because math is my jam.”

Why? Well, throughout the years, I’ve talked to many people that have been Peace Corps volunteers. When I asked if they liked it, the answers varied tremendously. Some people say “I loved it. You must do it!”. Some people say “It was good and I learned a lot.” Some people say “It was really hard” and some people say “I struggled and fulfilling my commitment was very challenging”. I don’t know what my answer will be to that question when I return, but I do know that I will not have any regrets about where I’m placed. What if I end up hating Mozambique, and I chose to go there based off of a list? Would I constantly question whether or not I made the right choice? Absolutely I would--that's human nature. I don't want even the potential of that happening. No thank you. 
Instead, I put my trust in the universe, and the Peace Corps placement experts, to send me to a country they believed I would both thrive and help others thrive too.

“How much stuff can you bring?”

Pretty much, think about the amount of stuff a typical female would bring on a two-week trip to Europe, and half that. I get to bring two 50-lb bags with me…for two years. I mean, I know that means two giant suitcases packed to the brim, and some of you may even be thinking “that’s not so bad”, but it's going to be tough. Especially when you consider some of the items in the “not to leave at home” section of the packing list:

A year supply of tampons. That’s roughly 250 tampons, or 5 boxes. Pretty much half of a suitcase.

A two year supply of your favorite soap. At a bar a month, that’s 27 bars of soap. That’s 10 lbs of soap. One fifth of my 50 lb bag will be soap. But at least it’s my favorite kind.

A fleece blanket. If I don’t want my toesies hangin’ out, it needs to be at least 5 ft long. I can fold, roll, or smoosh that sucker all I want, it’s still a lot of space.

One or two heavy sweatshirts; a waterproof jacket; sweatpants; two pairs of jeans. A backpack; a professional bag; a purse with a zipper. Blouses; t-shirts; a warm jacket; nice shoes; running shoes; hiking shoes. Books.

Moral of the story: How the hell am I going to fit all this stuff in two bags? And keep each under 50 pounds? And have enough clothes to still have “options” every day? We women, we love options. Need them, actually. The last thing I want to happen is: “Man, I really wish I would have brought my red FC Dallas t-shirt instead of the black Live United one”. In other words, my mom might be ready to kill me by the time I’m made my final packing decisions. Thanks mom—love ya!

“Are you excited?”

The short answer is yes, duh, but there’s so much more to it than that. I think the three words that I could use to replace "excited" in order to communicate how I’m feeling about my soon departure are: hopeful, curious and happy.

Hopeful: I hope that I fit in. Not like the kind of fitting in that 4^th graders hope to achieve on the playground at recess by completing the hopscotch course the fastest. But like really fitting in. Into the community. The culture. The day to day. Fitting in enough to trust and be trusted. To understand values, morals and motivations. What drives these people to work and to love? What type of person do they openly invite into their homes for lunch? Trust to teach their children? Share the dreams they have for themselves and their families? I want to fit in. I want to hear their dreams. I want to be invited to walk alongside a community to create new dreams. Big dreams. With my hands and my heart—scratch that: our hands and our hearts. Team effort. I want to join their team. I hope that they’ll let me.

Curious: Not like George. I like to think I already know about some things—many things. But I really want to know about little things. You know, the things that are part of your world that you almost don’t notice. Here are some examples of my right now little things:

• My one neighbor is always outside having a cig when I walk Lucy in the morning. He always comments on how big her poo is.
• The people at Starbucks sometimes call me “Princess Sarah” because I told them my name means Princess in Hebrew.
• People downtown use the crosswalks without the walk sign. Which means a green light no longer means go. It means wait for people to finish crossing and then proceed with caution.
• There is lots of traffic at 7:45 but significantly less if I leave at 8:05.
• The lady at Subway right next to the office recognizes me but pretends she doesn’t because that might be creepy. I know this because I catch her adding the right veggies to my sandwich before I say them out loud.

So do you get what I’m saying? The little things. They just become a part of the normal and you just go about your business not really thinking much of them. Onlookers might even consider these things interesting or out of the ordinary, but you don't. They have become just another thing that happens on any given day.

So what are the little things going to be for me in Mozambique? Clearly, I won’t have a neighbor talking about a poo pile the size of a go-kart, but surely some things are going to become normal. Typical. What will my new quirky normalcies be? I'm looking forward to finding out, but then again--will I really even notice?

Happy: Not the ‘happy is too common and boring so find a better synonym for it’ happy. But like really happy. In my heart. Warm. Yellow like sunshine. Positive energy and involuntary smiles and speed-up-my-talking happy. The happy that comes with the phrase this just feels right. Happy.

I'm hopeful and curious and happy. It just feels right.