Packing for 2 Years: A Peace Corps Blog
Prior to joining the Peace Corps I taught college writing in California, and one of the sections I loved to teach was film analysis, and one of the films I loved using was Gran Torino, a 2008 Clint Eastwood flick. In it, the venerable actor plays a grumpity old crotchety old man trying to live out his life in a rough Detroit neighborhood which is getting rougher by the day.
I would tell my students that the film, though set in contemporary urban blah, is really, at heart, an old-school western. Clint Eastwood paydirt. After all, I would say with a wink, tumbling tumbleweeds and saloon brawls alone a western do not make. My students would then set to work: why might a modern metropolis be the perfect setting for a western? How might Eastwood's crotchety old man embody so precisely the iconic western loner-hero? How might his taking a local boy under his wing echo the American pioneer mythos of self-sufficiency, of innovation, of entrepreneurship so central to the western genre?
There's a scene, in fact, where Eastwood's character teaches this kid what it means to be a man. Rustling through his tool-filled garage, Eastwood's character turns to the boy and says,
"Take these three items, right here. You can have this. WD-40, vise grips, and some duct tape. Any man worth his salt can do half the household chores with just those three things."
Weeks before leaving to serve in the Peace Corps, I was particularly interested in the bit about the duct tape.
A month or so before you ship out for Peace Corps service, you're sent a thick info packet on your assignment: notes on local customs, gender roles, relevant history, an introduction to your tasks. And along with this, you're given a packing list for what to bring. When I first read it, list seemed very sensible, structured around a two-weeks' supply of clothing. But a few items stood out.
Number one: the list recommended twelve pairs of underwear but only six pairs of socks. After a series of mathematical computations, I determined that there was an inversely proportional relationship between the layer density of insulation for ambulatory appendages and atmospheric barometric pressure. In other words, the Philippines was a sandals-wearing culture.
Number two: Ear plugs. Almost without exception, the volunteer blogs I was reading had at some point lovingly lamented the incessant sound of roosters and videoke as the soundtrack to Filipino life. Accordingly, I decided I would pack 2 pairs of ear plugs.
Number three: Tampons. Apparently, these are very hard to find locally.
Number four: No medical supplies. The Peace Corps would provide individual kits which would include, among other things, immodium and rehydration salts (for, I suppose the inevitable diarrhea), insect repellent and mosquito net (self-explanatory), and condoms. In regards to this last item, I'd read in a book by a returned Peace Corps volunteer that while abstinence is the official recommendation of the Peace Corps, you're nevertheless given enough rubber to build a very respectable raft.
In addition to this official list, current Peace Corps volunteers were adding their own suggestions via our Facebook discussion page. A laptop was considered a must for the 21st century volunteer, as cheap and portable as possible. DVDs were another necessity, apparently as good as currency between fellow volunteers. The tampons recommendation was affirmed heartily.
I was also finding packing suggestions on peacecorpswiki.org, yet another way web 2.0 was changing the face of the Peace Corps knowledge base. This site listed other necessities: a swiss army knife for the kitchen, silica gel and airtight packaging for electronics, and of all things, duct tape. And I heard the voice of Clint Eastwood in my ears.
At the same time, despite the ever expanding list of "necessities" for the 21st century volunteer, there was one common thread voiced by current volunteers and by Peace Corps staff: Don't stress. Pack light.
This sentiment was best stated in an email from the Regional Peace Corps director: "Rest assured," he said, "that you can find almost anything--almost anywhere in the world these days. And sometimes trying to find something you need is a great way to start learning about a place and using the language."
With this in mind, I continued packing. I would take my laptop, and a swiss army knife, and some duct tape, but I was also determined that I would pack light, very light, that if the western genre had anything relevant left to teach the 21st century, it was that any volunteer worth his or her salt could find a way to get by almost anywhere in the world.
Get Mark's words & pictures by email