The Token PCV Blogpost

     One thing that almost every PCV can agree on, regardless of which country you’re serving in, is that PC service is like an extreme roller-coaster ride. Your highs are really high, and your lows are really low. And the amazing thing is that you can feel both of which many times throughout one day. Although I can’t speak for PCVs in other countries, I’m sure that almost every Jamaica PCV has at one point or another said to himself, ‘Forget this place. I’m out of here.’ Whether this feeling occurs regularly, or only once or twice, whether you’ve seriously contemplated it to the point of looking for jobs back home, or just said it in a moment of passing frustration, the bottom line is that we’ve all felt it to some degree. That’s right, us, Matt and Julie, too.

     We’ve both had points in the last 6 months that we’ve looked at each other and said, “What the heck were we thinking?’

     It can be something major: Someone in the community has royally pissed us off. The aggressiveness with males to females makes you hit your breaking point. Nobody wants to actually work for a community project. Those who do work only ever bitch and complain. People beg you everywhere you go. No business/organization ever calls you back, even though they say they will, over and over and over again.
     Or it can be something small: You just want to at least have the option to eat out, rather than cooking for yourself night after night. You want to be able to know that a certain grocery item will be at the store. You want to walk down the street and not have everyone stare. When you’re trying to build something, it’d be nice to have a few decent hand tools.

     But here’s the beautiful thing about it all. For many of the lows, there's at least one high that seems to carry you through.

     It could be barely anything at all: The afternoon rain holds out long enough for you to dry your laundry. You finally figured out how to make jam on your own. You know people at the market by name, and they know yours. All the local taxi-men know where you live, even if you’ve never met them. Getting the front seat all to yourself, when all the other passengers are crammed in the back.
     Or it could be major: Your project finally falls into place. You go to a workday expecting nobody to show, and 10 people do. You come home to food waiting at your door. You receive the care package you were waiting for weeks to come. You receive a care package you didn’t even know was coming. When you walk down the street, everyone notices and says hello. When you walk by a classroom, you hear the all the children excitedly call out your name. You feel like you’re truly needed somewhere, to a place, to a people.