Supervolunteer

field journal

SQUEAL! I am an absolute dork but sometimes I cannot suppress my own giddy, nonsensical outbursts. Bahenna, my evaluator, was scheduled to visit Sabualla at 3pm, which of course means closer to four o’clock something, inshallah. The trainees dutifully assembled chez Brahim and passed time browsing though old pictures stored on digital cameras. Unbeknownst to us, during our failed trip to Boghe, Ginger had been filming from the back seat. She captured our reckless weaving between turge, incredulous giggles (“is this really a road, Brahim?”) and the clairvoyant cursing just before our tires sank into the mud. We watched the video and rewatched it until we were sobbing with laughter.

As if that bonding moment was not enough, my interview with Bahenna went spectacularly as well. He finally arrived to room full of cackling, tear-stained faces around 5pm, not bad for an inshallah.

When Keith raved about my PCV potential, I believed him, but a self-denigrating piece of me always wondered if he was just overly proud of his sector. Doubt is never really pretty. But Bahenna echoed the praise during my interview, and showered me with compliments and congratulations. Everyone enjoys my company, appreciates my cheerful demeanor, and thinks me competent to boot. At one point, he assured me I would be a super volunteer, an appraisal I immediately combined into a compound word and paired with tights, a cape, and a trusty Nalgene bottle: SUPERVOLUNTEER. Nothing short of a theme song, I had become a comic book hero.

I am relieved to have made such an impression, not only with my coordinator but with the entire Peace Corps staff. A tinge of modesty slash doubt reminds me not to be pompous, proud or self-satisfied. I’ll try not to rain on my own parade while still keeping my head to a manageable size.