The reason we get paid this little, is
so that we can learn what it's like to live in these countries, and
to figure out how to make it work. Peace Corps also doesn't want the
volunteer to stand out, and to be buying luxuries while our neighbors
are struggling to put food on the table. I've survived many nights on
rice and beans, and have learned to embrace the 5 kilometer walk into
town instead of spending money to take a taxi. When I grocery shop, I
have given myself the chose of either a bar of chocolate or a brick
of cheese, I cannot afford both. I have rationed my makeup so much
so, that I am using the same makeup that I left America with.
For the most part, I haven't really
minded being paid this little, and I have just allowed it to be an
adventure. Besides $200 can go a long way in South Africa, if you
allow it to. When I worked for City Year (AmeriCorps), I got paid 4x
this amount, and struggled so much more.
Of course there is a time when the
reality of the situation sinks in. At the beginning of my service, I
acquired a litter of kittens, and one spade cat. I didn't really know
anyone living in South Africa at the point, and was too worried about
posting something on South Africa's equivalence of craigslist to find
the kittens a new home. I found homes for some, and the rest just
stayed with me. I didn't have much money, nor did I have a car, so
the two feral kittens, stayed feral. I kept thinking about getting
the female spade, but the cost of hiring a private taxi (that would
allow a cat) and the vet fees were just too much. A year went by, and
I forgot about it entirely, beside Tsotsi was the runt of the litter,
she couldn't possibly become pregnant.
Famous last words, Tsotsi definitely
got pregnant. Normally an outdoor cat, I allowed her into the
bathroom at my house so that she could start nesting in my house
instead of outside in the bush. Then while working out on a random
Monday, Tsotsi's water broke all over my yoga mat. Throughout her
labor, all I could think about was how could I take her to the vet
if she has complications. I continued to search on my phone to
see how long labor should take, and when to be alarmed. Luckily,
after three hours, Totsi started popping kittens out. Four
beautifully adorable kittens.
As the week went by Tsotsi feed the
kittens, bathed the kittens, and allowed me to hold each of them.
But
by day 8, something was seriously wrong. Chicken was wandering away
from the group, and was not feeding. He was breathing heavily, and
meowing on and off. Bat was also struggling to eat, and was getting
weaker and weaker by the second. Without a car, and with very little
money, all I could do was hold them. I held Chicken in my hands, and
Tsotsi quickly crawled in my lap and looked at her baby. We were
poor, and we were helpless. I never felt more useless in my life. I
didn't have a car, so I couldn't run out to the store to buy goat's
milk (which is what the internet was requesting I do), and since it
was already night, the private taxis would have doubled in price (it
would have cost a whooping R240). I couldn't call a vet, because the
price would have been astronomical. I was stranded, with four
kittens, a new mother, without a car and without money. So I sat
there and did what I could. I held the kittens, and I cried.
Pictured: Bat
By the next morning, both Chicken and
Bat were dead. Luckily, a few other Peace Corps Volunteers were
staying at my house that week, so they helped me find a box, and dig
a hole to bury the kittens in. As I buried the two kittens, all I
could think about, was how much it sucked to be poor. Losing these
two kittens, due to the lack of stipend I received, gave me a taste
of what it's like to be truly poor. But for me, it was kittens that
I lost, in many of these villages that peace corps volunteers work
and live in, they lose much more than a pet, they lose children,
mothers, uncles, they lose people. With hospitals so far away, and
mobile clinics coming only every once and a while, many children die
due to not getting correct medical attention. Unable to get to
hospitals, people living in these remote rural villages are unable to
receive HIV treatment consistently (not taking your ARVs on a daily
basis is deadly).
Yes, I lost two kittens, two kittens
that I had known for all of seven days, and I sat on my bathroom
floor and cried because I was unable to do anything for them. But the
reality is, is that so many people are losing family members, because
there are no other options for them, there is no money, and the
hospitals are so far away. I couldn't imagine holding a dying child
in my arms, because I have no other option but to cry.
