Out of Africa, and
back
Ketchum Peace Corps
volunteer re-enlists
By TRAVIS
PURSER
Express Staff Writer
Since her
return to the United States from Togo, a country on the west coast of
Africa where she spent two years as a Peace Corps volunteer, Jessica
Tompkins has had some time to reflect.
When she
first arrived in Africa about three years ago, she was swarmed by
mosquitoes and nearly died from malaria.
Then she he
learned to eat a dish of dog or cat meat—with the head served on top.
Jessica
Tomkins helps butcher a calf in Sanda Kagbanda. Relinquishing
her vegetarianism was one change she made during her stint in the Peace
Corps.
Photos
courtesy of Jessica Tompkins
And,
because Catholicism rather than Islam is the dominant religion in the
village of Sanda Kagbanda, where she worked on family planning, there was
fortunately "not much" female circumcision.
Considering
all that and more at her West Ketchum home last week, Tompkins, 26, said
enthusiastically, "I can’t wait to go back."
The reasons
for her enthusiasm go beyond simple altruism. They have to do with
appreciating, sometimes reveling in, another culture, and bringing home an
understanding of it—even when it’s hard for Americans to accept.
"It
was peaceful," she said of the mud-and-thatch huts and rural
landscape of Sanda Kagbanda. "It’s so nice and liberating--to eat
the food that you grow, to not have refrigeration, to appreciate a little
bit of meat, if you get it--the little pleasures, like having cold water
on a hot day, when you don’t appreciate it here."
Tompkins
decided to join the Peace Corps while studying as an undergraduate at the
University of Colorado in Boulder.
"I
wanted to travel, and I had done the tourism thing," she said.
The Peace
Corps was born during a 2 a.m. campaign rally in Ann Arbor, Mich., in
1960. Presidential candidate John F. Kennedy proposed to a group of
University of Michigan students that they serve their country and the
cause of peace by living and working in the developing world. Four decades
later, 163,000 Americans have volunteered.
Tompkins
spent months in the Peace Corps’ cross-cultural and technical training,
but nothing, she said, could prepare her for the abrupt drop-off that
happened when the organization finally left her at her assigned village.
Her car
halted, a swarm of villagers collected her baggage, and within five
minutes she was alone with her new foster family: a father, his two wives
and their 10 kids.
"I
remember not knowing what to do," she said.
The
villagers spoke Kabye and French, which she had studied in college, so
conversing was not out of the question. But being the new American woman
amid 4,000 African villagers who had seen few other American women was
initially daunting. She said she couldn’t decide whether to go straight
to her room and unpack or mingle outside.
One of the
first things that struck her was the "harsh treatment of children and
animals, which was hard to adjust to." Adults hit their neighbors’
children as well as their own, and women were oppressed. "They don’t
have a voice, and they work so hard," she said.
Preparing
dinner is a team effort in a Togo village in Africa. "It’s so
nice and liberating…to eat the food that you grow," Jessica
Tompkins, of Ketchum, said.
Photos
courtesy of Jessica Tompkins
For the
first several months, she did no work; rather, she just lived and gained
the trust of her new community. Then, after a conversation with the
village nurse, she focused on family planning.
She taught
a sex education class in a village school, "which was
fascinating," she said, because students from age 15 to 21 asked her
some surprisingly naive questions.
Tompkins
taught women about Norplant, a birth-control device that is placed beneath
the skin and lasts for five years. And she taught many how to properly use
birth control pills.
Myth and
misinformation abounded. For example, she said many women thought
traditional birth control pills would stop pregnancy if only a few were
taken after intercourse, and they wondered why it didn’t work.
Some young
people thought the AIDS virus was transmitted to Africa from America in
condom packages. So they wouldn’t wear them. Instead, they believed
magic jewelry would protect them.
"As
far as work is concerned, I accomplished as much as I could, and I don’t
know if that work is continuing," she said. "I don’t know if
the kids are having safe sex, but they do know the ramifications."
She hopes
also that they know a little more about Americans than they did. Many
"had never had a close experience with a foreigner," she said,
even from a neighboring country.
Travel to
the closest city, Kara, took half a day by bike or 45 minutes by taxis,
"which were always full, but never full," she said, because they
would never refuse more passengers. Usually, Kara was as far as Sanda
Kagbandans traveled.
Consequently,
the villagers formed their views of American women from the occasional
American fashion magazine that arrived. No electricity meant no television
and no Internet. And, of course, there were no newspapers. Some, she said,
owned battery-powered short-wave radios.
And, she
has reassessed some of her own previous deeply held convictions, like the
merits of vegetarianism.
One of her
best friends, Tchaa, honored her in a traditional Sanda Kagbandan way by
cooking his cat and serving it to her with the head on top.
"It
really smelled terrible," she said, but how could she refuse? "I
just figured, you know, I’m here, I’m going to eat it." Well,
except for the head. "You could tell it was good meat, if it was in a
better sauce."
Tompkins
said she has been accepted to attend nursing school at Johns Hopkins
University, but before she goes, she plans on putting in another stint in
Africa, this time with the Crisis Corps, a program for veteran Peace Corps
volunteers.
She leaves
on Aug. 29 for Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, where she’ll work with a group
that publishes Femina, a hip magazine with a safe-sex advocacy twist aimed
at young people.
The work
should last six months to a year. After that, she said, "I’ll see
how I like nursing."