A friend of mine recently asked me to share my thoughts and experiences in the Peace Corps with his nephew, who is currently debating whether or not to apply. As I was pondering what to say, I came across this old letter...which truly speaks volumes.


April 1, 1997

Greetings from Jamaica!

This will be my last letter from this island, seeing that my COS date is right around the corner. At this time, I am filled with mixed emotions. I'm ready to leave, however my heart goes out to all the wonderful people that I have encountered throughout my stay.

Jamaica is now my home. I've spent the last three years striving to make a difference. Unfortunately, I will never reap the benefits of my harvest. Who knows what sort of impact I have made on the 700 children I teach environmental science to each week, or the local rude boys that I've lectured to about AIDS/STDs, or the women I've sat with for hours, sharing each other's goals and aspirations. Who knows what sort of impact I have made on the women who fall privy to domestic violence, or the local crack heads who have turned to me for help. Who knows what sort of impact I have had on the many friends I've fed when I knew their bellies were hungry, or the clothes I have given away to the needy. Who knows what sort of impact I have made on my neighbors, Miss Ruby and Troy, who have showered me with love and kindness. Miss Ruby, who thinks of me as her daughter, and I, who turn to her for advice as I would a mother. Who knows what impression I have made on Troy, who I've sat with for endless hours, teaching how to read. Troy, that sweet, intelligent child that calls me every day just to say hello. Or the neighborhood children, that stop by to give me fruits and vegetables. Or the impact I've had on the "likkle ones", who continuously chant "Miss Amy" as I ride by the school. For years to come, whenever I hear "Miss Amy", brilliant images will flood my mind. I have experienced pure joy in Jamaica.

I've also experienced pure hell. I have witnessed the brutal beating of a Rasta, simply because he was a dread. I have been attacked in broad daylight by a local madman. I've befriended a thirteen year old girl and supported her after she was raped and impregnated by her mother's boyfriend. I've experienced serious bouts of depression and suffered through feelings of loneliness and isolation. I've learned first hand what it feels like to be discriminated against; that awkward feeling one gets when they enter a room only to feel eyes of hatred burning into their body, or the uneasiness one feels when they are the only white person in a crowd. Or the subtle discrimination I experience when I am unable to get a taxi at local rates, or harassed thirty to fifty times a day because people think I have an abundance of money due to the color of my skin, or the frustration I feel when trying to buy produce at the market, only to have prices quoted three times the normal cost. I have learned how to deal with sexual harassment. And I've had to live with little to no privacy for the last three years.

However, in the sleepy streets of Treasure Beach, I have managed to find my niche. In fact, in the eyes of my community, I am Jamaican. What an honor to be accepted by this culture, to shatter the image of a stereotypical woman coming to Jamaica.

I am proud to leave behind the legacy of the triathlon. Hours of hard work went into this project. What an accomplishment; to introduce a new sport which promotes healthy lifestyles, enhances self-esteem, instills a sense of pride within the community, and generates income. However, my reward is knowing the sustainability of this race. Ten years from now, people will look back and remember Miss Amy, the Peace Corps Volunteer who spearheaded this event.

I will always cherish my time in Jamaica. I will never fully grasp the magnitude of this experience. I will continue to learn and grow from my life in Jamaica for years to come. I feel great about what I have accomplished, and look forward to my future.

As they say in Jamaica, ..Tek care and walk good....

Amy


I wrote that letter almost ten years ago...and I still return to my little Peace Corps community every year...it has remained a large part of my life...and continues to be my 'HOME'.