I'll Squash that Cockroach with my Left Pinky! (or...well...I won't run and yelp in fear)

It’s a bit embarrassing to admit all this on paper, but before I left for my Peace Corps service I worried about some pretty silly things. One of my main concerns was the creepy crawlies I would encounter (giant spiders, rats, centipedes and the like). Next I thought about being dirty and sweaty all the time, living in run down conditions. And later, when I found out I was going to the Pacific Islands, I nervously read up all about dengue fever and hurricane winds. Meanwhile, every Peace Corps website and questionnaire I checked out referred to the challenges of cultural differences and the need for coping mechanisms. Feeling secure in my experiences (or at least well traveled) and emotionally stable, I didn’t bother much with these forms. I figured I could write in my journal, go for a run, or practice meditation when things got too tough…. But man, was I off. Because at the heart of what makes Peace Corps “the most challenging job you’ll ever love” are the endless cultural clashes. Forget the stupid roaches and insects, or the nights of howling wind and sheets of rain, because you learn to deal with those things real quick. What appears to be the actual struggle for all volunteers, whether in their first few months of service or their last, are the irreconcilable differences in values and opinions that cause an internal battle to negotiate a new identity.

“Culture” is an overused and underappreciated term. Usually people refer to it when discussing travel and their observations of a “different” culture. Living in America I didn’t spend much time examining my own “culture” and the incredible relevance it had for my everyday life. My culture consisted of norms like having endless choices of produce at the supermarket or assuming a certain amount of privacy in my home. However since stepping away from these routines and expectations, I’ve suddenly felt like I can’t be certain of anything anymore. The previous rules and guidelines I adhered to simply don’t apply, and even after an intensive 2 months of cultural training before living 3 months in my village, I’m still grasping in the dark for cultural understandings. There are such fundamental differences between the views of Tongans and Americans regarding everything from individuals and community, to the place of religion, and the hierarchy of respect that I’m constantly tiptoeing through the issues. So long as I still don’t fully understand the conventions of everyday life in Tonga, I find myself erring on the safe side, afraid I won’t pick up certain nuances. But it’s exhausting. Everyday, my energy is sucked up questioning my perception, my actions, and my identity here. As soon as I walk out my door, I’m responsible for a different code of conduct. And even as I’m trying my best, I’m finding uncertain footing.

It’s a lonely journey. I’m the only outsider trying to assimilate into this community. I will never “fit-in” in Tonga. It’s a very homogenous country, and I’m clearly not Tongan. I can stay here 2 years and try to abide by every cultural expectation, speak in perfect Tongan, learn the traditional dances and I will still just be the only tall white girl from America in my village. It isn’t my purpose to try and become Tongan for 2 years but I also didn’t come here to cling on to my American ways. So I face endless personal choices as to which aspects of the Tongan culture I chose to observe and which aspects of my American culture I hold on to.

I’ve been in Tonga 5 months and I’ve battled the rat in my house, kept cool when my students pointed out the giant spider crawling on my lesson plan, and swept away a whole country’s worth of cockroaches, but I haven’t won the fight for peace of mind by understanding my identity in this new culture. I’m lost as to how I’ll achieve that. I know I’ve worn out my previous weaponry, because going for a run or writing home is a temporary escape that doesn’t solve the issues. But I haven’t worn out my determination to be here, and continue to examine the ways in which I can purposefully live in this country. I’m being pushed to new boundaries, and I’m going to explore where it takes me. It’s proving to be the most challenging journey I’ve ever undertaken, but it’s providing me with a much wider perspective on life and my place in it.