The Road Less Traveled?

The Road Less Traveled? Each of us, at various points during our lives, comes to a crossroads where we choose between an option considered prudent and one where caution is thrown to the wind. It was such a juncture that I found myself at in 1983. Granted, it would not be given a second thought by most, but for the family and friends of this sheltered, only-child of Asian Indian immigrants, joining the Peace Corps was a definite eyebrow-raiser. (Never mind that they themselves had relocated over 20,000 miles from their homeland with a broader host of uncertainties!)

There was a barrage of questions, most of which boiled down to: "Uh-reh?! You mean you will not be doing your Master's?" and "Are you sure it is safe for a single girl?" But in the end it is hard to argue against volunteer work. So it was that I landed in Belize, Central America, at the age of 22 with nothing but my red Samsonite suitcase in hand. My assignment was to head communicable disease control for the country (they had to be kidding). As it turns out, the two-year sojourn would be one of the most memorable of my life.

I went with the intent to give, help and be useful, but what I received and returned with was far greater. Of course there was Belize's vast physical beauty. Lush and tropical in the interior, with a system of caves and rivers and streams criss-crossing, one could make eye contact with monkeys, iguanas, and toucans if one so chose. There were idyllic cayes dotting the coastline. Sharing this magnificent landscape were equally special people, including the Creole, Maya, and Garifuna, each with their own distinct food, language, customs, and lore.

There were measurable things like learning my trade (Public Health). I was allowed and expected to work both as an administrator as well as in the field. I was given opportunities to see projects from conception to end, whereas I would likely only have been involved in one small aspect had I worked in the U.S. I was given the task of hosting a radio program, something I never would have done at home. Ultimately, I believe this variety led to my being more of an independent self-starter. But that's the boring part.

The less tangible things hold much more significance for me. Ironically, these are probably the things that most of us inherently know, but somehow begin to doubt. Things like: people will help you when you need it, regardless of differences of religion, race, nationality, sex, culture, language and political views. And, when you are in a foreign country and know not a soul, you will be surprised at how many will look out for you. I learned that there are many 'right' ways to do things, and that my way wasn't always the best. I learned to laugh at myself. I learned to trust myself. And, unlike most of my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers, I experienced what it felt like not to be a minority.

I have been asked many times to articulate my experience. I am always hesitant because I cannot satisfactorily put into words the many things Belize means to me. However, I did want my children to experience some sliver of the profundity. I took them to Belize over the past summer, 20 years since I had called her 'home'. While I was saddened at the huge cultural and environmental toll development has taken on Belize, it was there that I happened to meet two members of the Lokvani team. I was encouraged to write my thoughts, but my attempt is feeble. The best I can do to sum up is to use my father's mutation and say simply that I took a 'roadless travel', which more closely reflects the unforgettable inner journey that remains.