Comorian Voices: Yusuf

In the early evenings, before I set the table for dinner, I sit in the living room with my host father, Yusuf. It's during these times that he likes to talk about politics, his love for the people of Comoros, the Seattle Seahawks, and his new home- America. Yusuf grew up in Comoros, but like many young Comorians he had to seek higher education away from the tiny island country's blue waters. He traveled first to Egypt and then to Senegal. He returned home to Moroni for a time but his wandering feet soon led him to Europe, and finally to the USA. He is by all accounts a well traveled and well educated man. It has been gratifying, and often humbling, to see my homeland through his eyes.

Yusuf loves America. Loves it in a way that I think only immigrants can. America, to Yusuf, is a place where hard work can make dreams come true. His love for the Comorian people is boundless, but the poverty in his homeland is stifling. He hasn't given up hope, and looks for solutions to Comoros' many problems, but in many ways America has become his home.

I think Comoros has instilled in him an endlessly kind humor. His good-natured laughter fills the room as he recounts the time that a new coworker attempted to teach him to use the microwave, as if a man from Africa, no matter how well traveled or educated, could not possibly have seen a microwave. He tells me about the woman who expressed disbelief that people in Africa might have cars. She assumed that everyone rode some sort of animal for transport.

In fact, most Americans he meets talk about “Africa” like a single county, with one culture and one story. Yusuf accepts the duality in everything. He knows Comoros is beautiful, even if it is impoverished. In one breath he tells me about being berated as a thief for trying to help an man with his spilled groceries and in another he says “Shanna, the American people are a wonderful people. So welcoming to people like me- immigrants with dreams.”

I begin to cringe at these stories. He, still laughing, tells me to be kind to my countrymen. They simply know nothing of Africa and even less of Comoros. And neither do I, I have discovered. Everyday I find myself confronting my own assumptions and expectations, simultaneously shocked by the poverty and lack of resources and surprised by the ways in which the lives of Comorians and Americans are similar. Yusuf, with his kind laughter and never-ending patience, could teach us all a little about Comoros and about the assumptions we didn't know we had.   

The Longest Flight Ever

Let me just start by saying that I have done a reasonable amount of international travel. But if anything were to keep me in Comoros for the whole two years, it is the thought of taking that flight again.

After arriving at Dulles, our group of twenty, baggage in tow, was forced to wonder back and forth while the airline decided where we could check in. After they pointed us to the right place, they charged everyone who wanted to check two bags (nearly everyone in our group) $100 to do so. Since we lacked any official power there was little we could do to argue. We found out after everyone paid that, indeed, the airline was not supposed to charge us.

We had to wait around for about five hours before our flight to London. We had an 8 hour flight and then a pretty uncomfortable 10 hour layover at Heathrow. We then had another 8 hour flight to Kenya and a five hour layover. Our last four hour flight had an hour stop in Mayotte before we landed in Comoros.

We were all pretty much walking zombies when we arrived only to discover that most of the baggage never arrived. And apparently this is the best flight PC Comoros has ever experienced. I'll cross my fingers for next year's volunteers.

I will also add that the view of Comoros from the airplane was worth it. It's the kind of breathtaking thing you see in the movies.

Staging

Staging was a whirlwind affair. We all left for DC on the 8th. I meet up with another volunteer, Sam, in the airport. We commuted to the hotel together and shortly after check-in we had our first meeting. We received ATM cards with $165 on them to get us through the next few days. Staging is different for each country I am led to believe. Ours seemed to be very brief, perhaps a result of the expense of housing us in DC. Rooms during staging are shared and you use your ATM card to pay for meals. A last American meal with fellow trainees is a good way to say goodbye to home.

The morning after arrival our staging sessions really began. We learned about Peace Corps rules, policies, and regulations. Lots of ice breaking and team work activities so you can get to know your fellow volunteers. We also received our new passport and visa documents. After a few hours of sessions we left for the airport.

Having our staging in DC is apparently unusual. It is generally cost prohibitive but the DC staff wanted to be involved in our staging since we are the first cohort to be sent to Comoros since the program closed in the 1990s.

Most of staging is a blur. After barely 24 hours in DC we were on our way to Comoros.