A Message From A Former Soviet Officer to A Future Expat

Disclaimer: I debated a lot on if I wanted to even post this story in the first place, as there is zero possibility that I can do this experience justice without placing you in the room for the situation. However, I think it’s important for me to at least attempt to pass this along, as it is the most striking lesson I have learned, and a valuable lesson for anyone in my opinion.

Let me introduce for you a man named Viktor. Viktor is one of the Peace Corps medical officers who have been here in Rabat during training, putting on various sessions and giving us all of our vaccinations. He has worked for Peace Corps for many years now, and fairly unanimously is one of our groups’ favorite people to have train us. A thick Russian accent and a brash sense of humor make him impossible to hate. The other day, at the end of a gruelingly boring session which covered medical paperwork and the details of our Peace Corps medical insurance, Viktor stepped up to address our training group.

He began by showing us a picture of his family, with two grown children in their twenties, one son, one daughter. He asked anyone in the room who was under the age of 34 to stand up, and proceeded to tell us he would be addressing us as if we were his children, because he views himself as a father figure to all of us. Immediately, the tone in the room became more serious, as we all sensed something very important was about to be said.

The next picture that he showed was a much younger version of him, many years ago, dressed in military fatigues. He began to tell us about his time that he served in Algeria as a medical officer in the Soviet Army. He showed us other pictures of him with Algerian soldiers that had amputated legs or other extensive injuries. He described this time in his life as one of the most meaningful experiences he ever had. He was given the opportunity to serve a country in which he was so very proud of, and the chance to work with and assist the natives of a country that his own was at war with. Viktor explained to us how we as a human race have evolved to a point where we have created incredible technology. Technology that can take us to great places in life. Technology that we have chosen to use to create the most brutal weapons we can imagine. We have created weapons designed to cause incapacitation, death, and years’ worth of complications for another human being to brutally face.

But Viktor did what he felt in his heart was right. He served his country as dutifully as he could, supplying medical assistance to both his own soldiers and to the injured Algerians that needed aid. Atrocities or no, the Soviet Union was his country, and he was so very proud of it. By this point in his presentation, I couldn’t help but be proud of his Soviet Union as well, if even just for Viktor. He also reminded us at this point, while the vibe of the room seemed to be a general sense of Soviet support, that his was the mid-1970’s. He was our enemy at the time.

Now, I’m sure you’re wondering where I’m going with this, or where Viktor was going with this. Before I finish telling Viktor’s story, I need to explain something else. You may be wondering why, in the midst of his explanation on the atrocities of war, I suddenly felt pride for Viktor’s Soviet Russia. How many times in our lives have we been asked if, or stated that, we are proud to be American? I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count the occasions, I’ll say that much. America has committed some of the worst atrocities the world has ever seen. Let’s just take the atomic bomb for one example. Undoubtedly a turning point in military technological history, and also undoubtedly a cause of much pride in country for many Americans, officially providing Japanese defeat in WWII. We all have found moments in our lives where we have extreme pride in our country, even in the face of great human destruction on the part of our own government. So why is this? Let’s go back to Viktor.

As he reached the moral of his story, the entire room barely dared to breathe, we were so engaged. Viktor explained to us why our jobs here in Morocco, and for Peace Corps volunteers around the world, are so important. We have the opportunity to represent our country to the world in the most human way possible. His service in Algeria was so meaningful to him, as he had the opportunity to interact with the people of a country he did not belong to, and provide extremely needed medical services. He was able to show himself in a human light to people who otherwise would not have known the Soviet’s beyond a stereotype of “terrible.” American’s around the world are stereotyped, whether loved or hated, and assumed to be many things by many different people. As a Peace Corps Trainee, and soon to be Volunteer, I have the opportunity to represent America in human form. Not as a Hollywood image or a stereotype, I am a living, breathing representation of America.

As Viktor stood in front of me in this specific moment, I tried to imagine him as my enemy. I couldn’t do it. From day 1, he was one of my favorite people at training. I could see in his heart as he told this story how deep his love for his Soviet Russia ran. We have been raised in America to hate the Soviet Union, and, in a lesser way, Russia as well. Undoubtedly though, during his time as an officer in the Soviet Army, he was the enemy of America. Let me try to get to my point though.

People travel for many reasons. One of my reasons, which I really don’t hide, is my distaste for America. I have spent years doing my best to distance myself from America, or wishing I could claim a different nationality. I accept that at some point I will be an expat. I may be working for the federal government currently, but I use it as a way to get outside of the country that, like it or not, is my home.

Viktor’s parting words to us was this: “Do not lose your country. I lost my country, and I cannot get it back. Do not lose your country from your heart.”As he put the microphone down, I’ve never heard 100 people applaud louder in my life, and somewhere from the back of the room came a: “WE LOVE YOU VIKTOR!!” which only made us cheer louder. At this specific moment, I had never been more proud in my life to be American. My country has provided me so many opportunities, and I have been given the gift of the very unique opportunity to represent my country as I feel it deserves to be shown to the people of the world. This is a bold undertaking, but the most important job anyone could possibly have. I learned from Viktor, a former Soviet military officer, enemy of America, to be proud of my America. 

The Mental Jump to Eating Meat For The First Time In 16 Months

When you travel, you’re always going to be crossing barriers. Those barriers could be physical, such as going through customs at the airport, getting into your hotel room for the first time (shut up, the maid had to help us), or simply walking from one neighborhood to the next within the city. Other barriers though, can be mental: gaining the nerve to buy something from a street vendor without any shared language, starting your first lesson in Arabic, or, as I’m about to explain, the mental step it takes to eat meat for the first time in 16 months.

                “You probably should have started working it into your diet again a little sooner…”

                That’s the statement I got from many people when I told them Morocco would be my first time consuming any form of meat in over a year. Many people that had been vegetarians, but like me, planned to eat meat in Morocco, had started a few weeks back in the States. Something with a little chicken broth here, a dish with a little pork in it there, slowly working up how much they ate. If you’ve eaten meat your entire life, it’s not really an issue. When you stop for awhile, though, your body kind of quits caring enough to remember how to digest it. So yeah, I probably should have worked my way into eating it, but the reason I chose not to was solely based in my reason to be vegetarian in the first place.

                I first decided to quit eating meat after my time spent in Kenya, and for the most part, it all boils down to a single afternoon I had in Kenya. There was a day when many of us had decided to stay back at the house for the afternoon rather than go to Ombogo. The women that worked in the kitchen had promised us they’d teach us to make some of our favorite dishes that day, and it seemed like something I wanted to partake in. About four of us spent all afternoon in the kitchen making Chipati (Kenyan tortillas) with the women, really enjoying our opportunity to learn something from them, talk with them, and overall just bond with them.

As we were rolling out all of the dough, one woman also brought into the kitchen a chicken that had just been freshly beheaded and feathered in the courtyard out back. Lacking space to help with the Chipati, I turned around and began to help the woman finish feathering, and begin gutting the chicken. While we were doing this she was pointing out all of the anatomy of the chicken, and telling me about the whole process of how this was going to become our dinner later that evening. As I’m eagerly taking in an unexpected experience and probably way too into gutting this chicken, she finally looks at me to ask a question.

“Have you never eaten chicken in America?” she asked, a little bewildered. “No, of course I have. We eat it quite often actually” I responded, fairly confused and caught off guard by the question.

“So how is it that you’ve eaten chicken, yet never prepared a chicken? How do you eat in America?”

That question is often the line that I cite when I explain to people why I decided to be vegetarian. Trying to explain to a woman in very rural Kenya that chickens are kept on massive farms and that the average person simply walks into a grocery store and buys a chicken that’s frozen and doesn’t actually look anything like a chicken anymore is a difficult task.

Fast forward back to Morocco now. I have zero issues with eating meat I a developing nation. The food is local, it’s fresh, it’s sustainable, and to be honest, it’s just delicious. My issue is with America’s creation of our food. We’re disconnected, unaware, and entirely incapable of feeding ourselves if someone else didn’t do 90% of the work for us. So if my issue is with America’s food system, I don’t really want to use my time in America to prepare for eating meat in another country. Rather, I’d prefer to hold to my reasons, and only eat it in developing nations.

Unfortunately, that lead me to not exactly feel top notch my first day in Morocco. A combination of a red-eye flight to get here, immediate training, and eating meat for the first time, it’s fair to say I wasn’t entirely healthy that first day. However, while I may still do my best during my time here to eat as little meat as possible, my first goal is not to offend. If my host family makes me a meal that has no vegetarian options, I damn well better be eating that meal, and I better be grateful for it. They are kind enough to take me in, help me learn the language, and teach me their culture, the least I can do is return some respect for the culture. And trust me, food is most certainly part of any culture. My personal choices are in no way more important than the respect I owe to my host family. It took a change in mindset to jump that boundary of eating meat again after so long, but in the end, it’s worth it. If I can handle a bit of a stomach ache in order to gain some repertoire with my host family, and show them the respect they deserve, consider it done.    

So You're Moving Away For Two Years......

Packing can be an accomplishment for any trip. Even if you're just going away for a week on the beach, it can still be hard to know what to bring and what to leave behind. If you add international travel to the equation, it gets a little more complicated. Especially if it's to the middle of nowhere in a developing nation, rather than a fancy beach resort in Mexico with all the amenities. Now, picture going somewhere for longer than a week. How about two and a half years? It's a headache to say the least.

Easily the one of the most daunting parts of my preparations for Peace Corps, packing and preparing to pack has consumed my life recently. Here is a complete list of what made the list of necessities, and some not so necessities.....

2 Pair jeans

3 Pair dress pants

3 Skirts (yes, I know... me in a skirt... it's horrifying.)

2 Pairs of shorts

1 Pair of sweat pants

5 T-shirts

2 Dress shirts

4 Long sleeve shirts

3 Polo's

1 Columbia rainshell

1 Fleece jacket

1 Zip-up sweater

1 Hoodie (Bellingham represent!) 

1 Set full-size bed sheets and pillowcase

9 Pair underwear

2 Bras

9 Pair socks

1 Box Ziplock freezer bags

1 Map of Europe

1 Map of Morocco

3 month supply feminine products

2 Boxes of Cliff Bars

2 Bandana's

1 Sowing kit

1 Box Hot-Hands hand warmers (Yes, Morocco is in Africa. No, it's not hot there.)

1 Razor + spare blades

1 Bar soap

1 Bottle shampoo/conditioner combination

1 Tube toothpaste

1 Toothbrush

1 Hairbrush

Various hairties and headbands

1 Tube deodorant

1 Tube sunblock

1 Pack sleeping pills (Jetlag is a bitch. Always remember that.)

1 Nikon Coolpix L120 camera + extra memory card

2 Scarves 

1 Beanie

2 Pairs mittens

1 Pair wool gloves

1 Kobalt multi-tool (Lowe's haunts me still...)

1 Mini-speaker (Best travel investment ever)

6 Books - various

2 Packs note cards

2 Packs colored pencils

1 Pack markers

1 Ace Bandage

1 Hard ankle brace

1 Pack sticky tack (for wall hangings)

1 Pair Keen Sandles (These things are indestructible) 

1 Pair Keen walking shoes

1 Pair hiking boots

1 Pair flip-flops

5 Journals

1 Money belt

Current Converter 

2 Microfiber towels

1 iPod

1 iPod computer cord + wall charger

1 Pair earbuds

1 Pair headphones

Bananagrams 

Uno

Plastic Frisbee

Cloth Frisbee

Hackiesack 

Reusable batteries + wall charger

1 Nalgene water bottle

1 Roll duct tape

1 External hard drive

1 Laptop + charger

1 Sleeping bag

1 Headlamp

1 Flashlight

1 Solar panel accessory charger

1 Waterproof money bag

1 Pocket dictionary

1 Pocket thesaurus 

1 Pack baby wipes

1 Bottle baby powder (helps greasy hair between showers)

8 Seattle postcards (gifts for host family and friends)

2 Calendars with pictures of the Northwest (again... gifts)

1 Backpacking backpack

1 Bookbag

1 Duffle bag

Now, I'm not allowed to have any bag weigh more than 50 pounds, I'm not allowed to have more than 2 checked bags, and I have to be able to carry all of this by myself, at one time. Challenge accepted...

The most organized I've been in years...

Everything laid out, ready to go

3 hours worth of paperwork to complete.

Mission accomplished!

Shoutout to Wendi for some hometown pride here!!

Washington love, through and through.

I got this.