20 Years after an HIV Scare in Africa

– Brian Guse, RPCV, and PC Trainer, Mali

I was perusing the National Peace Corps Association site on Facebook today and saw a post urging readers to check out an RPCV’s blog titled “No Going Back – There Is Only Forward.

The author is a young woman who was recently med-separated from Peace Corps after contracting HIV while in country (Zambia). Her story is one of courage and strength and she is an inspiration to all – Peace Corps or not, HIV positive or not.

After reading her blog I couldn’t help but think back to where I was 20 years ago and the intersection HIV made with my own Peace Corps experience. By no means do I compare my “scare” with what she is going through, but I think some of you might be able to relate to the story I am about to tell.

20 years ago, almost to the day, I was sitting on an airplane crossing the Atlantic on my way back to Mali. I had been away from my village, my friends and my Malian family for more than 45 days – on medical evacuation for a serious life threatening illness. After having spent a week in Georgetown University hospital, another 2 weeks recuperating in the Virginian Hotel in Rosslyn, VA (Washington, DC) and a couple of weeks fattening up back home in the Midwest, I was anxious to get back to my mission and finish my remaining months as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

To many of the other PCVs I met on medevac, the time spent in DC was like a vacation – time to recuperate from whatever ailed them, job hunt or visit the sites of the Nation’s Capital. For me, those weeks in DC were some of the most frightening days of my life; a time when I thought I was going to die.

As a sexually active gay man in the late 1980’s and early 1990′s I was extremely aware of and paranoid about the prospects of acquiring HIV. Nonetheless, safe sex was a concept but not always a reality for me. Getting tested for HIV was a nerve wracking affair yet throughout college I had been pretty good about getting tested on a regular yet anonymous basis. Then, as now, Peace Corps required a full physical including an HIV test in order to be placed in a country. Before submitting to the full physical, I went to a city health clinic and was tested anonymously one last time. I tested negative. I was ready for the real deal, the official, named and documented HIV test. I tested negative.

I was living in Chicago the day the acceptance letter arrived. Mali, West Africa. Never heard of it. Still, what a happy day. I sat at my favorite Chicago hotdog stand and cried tears of joy and relief as I opened the acceptance letter. The moment the invitation package arrived, the HIV testing stopped. I wanted nothing to get in the way of being a PCV. I knew testing positive would put an end to my dreams of joining Peace Corps so I put it out of my mind and assured myself that I was and would remain negative. If later I discovered I was positive I would be compelled to disclose the information to Peace Corps and end my PCV experience before it ever began. Better not to know. In four non-celibate months I would be on the plane to Mali. Nothing to worry about.

I wasn’t sure of my HIV status the day I flew to New Orleans for pre-service orientation. Stupidly or rather naively, it never occurred to me that Peace Corps would require one final HIV test before allowing me to get on that flight to Mali. The test took place on the first day. I lost sleep in New Orleans. While my fellow trainees were out enjoying their last few nights in the US, I sat in my hotel room shaking with fear. I wasn’t afraid for my health or even my long-term future. Testing positive meant only one thing to me: the end of ever being a Peace Corps volunteer. I tested negative.

After getting settled into my rural village the fears of HIV passed and I focused on other things. In 1990, AIDS hadn’t penetrated land-locked West Africa yet. Peace Corps hadn’t even begun to build an HIV/AIDS sector yet. In my mind the next 2+ years would be a time free from worry. HIV would not get near me.

Several months into my service I received a cassette tape (yes it was the 90’s) from my best friend back home. We went to high school together and came out to each other at a time when coming out was not in vogue. Hearing his voice was wonderful; hearing news about our friends and families brought a smile to my face; hearing him cry as he told me had tested positive for HIV devastated me. HIV had returned to my life; it suddenly became of part of my reality albeit it through someone else; someone for whom I cared deeply but could not comfort in person. I immediately got on my motorcycle and drove to the capital. I placed a phone call to my mom asking her to arrange for my friend to call me from her home the next day. He and I talked for an hour. We laughed and cried and discussed how he became infected. We talked about the future – my future. I felt selfish and petty talking about the community garden I was working on when all he could focus on was whether he’d live long enough to see his 22nd birthday and avoid a slow and painful demise. The early 90’s were an especially frightening time for people with HIV. My generation witnessed the sudden loss of the gay generation before us to AIDS. We had no mentors; we had no role models. To us, AIDS meant death. He was positive. I was negative. He could only focus on the present. I was able to look forward; look to the future. Guilt.

Fast forward one year to three restless nights of fevers and sweats in my mud hut. I had already come down with malaria a few times while in country but this was something different. My Malian host mother had seen enough and insisted that I make my way to the capital to seek medical attention. She sent word by mouth from village to village until a nearby PCV learned I was ill and gave me a lift on his motorcycle to the capital. A few days later I was unable to eat; was losing weight too quickly; had abdominal pains and high fevers. PC sent me to several specialists – no one had an answer. During that time a close friend came to country for a visit. When he saw me at the airport his jaw dropped. I looked bad. In a way that only close friends can speak to one another he said, “You look like you have AIDS.”

Months before, as part of our mid-service physical, Peace Corps required an HIV test. I tested negative. Shortly after the physical I went on vacation to Europe and made up for sexual lost time. For the most part, I was safe. I had nothing to worry about. Until, “You look like you have AIDS.”

The Peace Corps medical unit was unable to diagnose what ailed me. The only choice was medevac. My heart sank. I knew deep down it was HIV. I knew that once it was confirmed Peace Corps would separate me and I would never again see my Malian family. I would never have the chance to say good-bye.

The Peace Corps doctor escorted me on the flight to DC where I was immediately admitted into Georgetown University hospital. I weighed 109 lbs. I had lost 50 lbs in less than a month. The fevers continued. I couldn’t eat. I was delusional at times. I called my mom and told her she needed to come to DC. The doctor spoke with her and said make it quick.

For days, doctors examined me. Phlebotomists drew blood. Nurses held my hand. Students studied me. Most had never seen my symptoms. One intern, I never got her name, boldly suggested a bone marrow exam. She had an idea. She was correct. Typhoid. Curable. Not HIV. No, that test came back negative. Twice. Called mom and said not to worry. “I’ll come visit you once I recover.” Bacon – the first solid food I ate in weeks. I love bacon.

A week in the hospital. Christmas and New Years in the Virginian hotel. Finally, home to mom. More bacon. I spent a good amount of time with my friend. I was embarrassed. I had been worried about myself. I was negative. He was positive. But in those months since sending me the cassette tape much about him had changed. He had come to terms with HIV and was under the care of a number of HIV/AIDS specialists. In the time since we had spoken on the phone he had become positive about life again. He was looking forward; looking to the future. He was not defeated.

20 years later he still is looking to the future. He has lived with HIV for over 20 years. He has suffered losses and buried a lover. He graduated from college. He witnessed his brother’s wedding and watched his nephews grow into fine young men. He bought a house and started a career. He and his partner adopted one too many pugs. Through his strength and perseverance he has inspired all who know him.

I remain engaged in international development. Over the past 20 years I’ve seen African nations fall victim one by one to HIV/AIDS. I’ve seen hope disappear and reappear on the faces of the farmers, students and professionals that I have come into contact with. This month marks the 20th anniversary of my return to Mali. Not a day goes by where I don’t think how lucky I was to have a second chance on life – a second chance to complete my Peace Corps service – although really, come to think of it, do we ever really finish Peace Corps?

You can contact Brian Guse at bvguse@aol.com and visit the story on the blog that inspired this article “There is no going back, there is only forward.”

Without Borders: The Story of a Bi-national Same-sex Couple

- Brad Mattan, RPCV, Ecuador

Introduction

Brad and Raúl cut their cake.

As each group of Peace Corps trainees boards the plane after staging, no one trainee truly knows what the next two years will bring. Indeed, the possibilities are truly endless. While most expect to gain experience in international development work or even learn more about themselves and the world, one thing that most typically do not expect is to fall in love and eventually marry a special someone from his or her country of service.

I write this as I await takeoff from Quito’s International Airport. I am returning from my second trip back to Ecuador since my Close of Service in 2010. Though my visit was only a week, it was a very meaningful one for me and my partner, Raúl, as we celebrated our civil union (legal in Ecuador since 2008). Like most Peace Corps Volunteers, I did not expect to fall in love with and marry an Ecuadorian. In fact, I was generally opposed to the possibility, a sentiment shared by many of my fellow RPCVs, several of whom ended up marrying Ecuadorians! Life has a way of producing unexpected turns.

Like other bi-national couples I have had the pleasure of meeting, Raúl and I experience our share of challenges and rewards. In addition to those are the challenges and rewards that come with being a same-sex bi-national couple at the beginning of the 2010’s.  Among the most difficult obstacles we face is the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), a 1996 law that prohibits the federal government from granting the 1,138 benefits, rights and privileges bestowed by marriage to married same-sex couples. Among the rights DOMA denies to same-sex couples is the ability for a US citizen to sponsor his or her partner for a green card. Unlike many RPCVs who marry non-US citizens and begin a life together in the US, same-sex couples like Raúl and me are barred from doing so. In spite of such difficulties, Raúl and I have shared some memorable moments unique to our relationship. Such experiences have allowed us to grow ever closer and maintain hope for our future even in the face of formidable obstacles and great distances.

Our Story

Raúl and I met about halfway through my Peace Corps service through a mutual acquaintance. We shared an instant connection from the first time we met. After a couple of months of hesitation on my part, Raúl finally convinced me to accept what we both felt for each other and we began our relationship. From that time until the end of my Peace Corps service we were inseparable. He met my host family in Baños, the highland parish where I lived, and I met his family on the coast.

Of course, we kept our relationship a secret from the beginning. For both Raúl’s family and Baños as a whole, we were merely “friends” albeit friends who were suspiciously often in each other’s company. We’re both sure that many are aware there is something more. Even in places where same-sex dating is exclusively underground, a few begin to catch on after a certain point and gossip then takes care of the rest. As an aside, my impression is that Peace Corps generally encourages volunteers not to get anywhere near that point because it could undermine the trust necessary to work safely and effectively in their communities. Fortunately, any potential rumors did not appear to damage the relationships with my counterparts at the schools and church where I provided technical assistance. In the end, Raúl and I never let doubts about gossip keep us from spending time with the people we love whether it was spending carnaval on the coast with Raúl’s family or having a crab soup picnic up in the mountains with my host family in Baños.

Unfortunately, Raúl did not get the chance to meet my parents when they came to visit me during my service in Baños. I first met him in person the day after I dropped my parents off at the airport in Guayaquil. Once we started dating he would often ask me about my family and what they were like. He was always reminding me to call home.

As my service drew to a close in mid-2010, we had decided somewhat naively that I would leave the Peace Corps and join Raúl in Equatorial Guinea where he was offered work. In the meantime, we had also applied for a visa for Raúl to meet my family over the holidays. As I have written for Stop the Deportations, the visa application was rejected because of Raúl’s inability to prove sufficient ties to Ecuador that would compel him to return. Heartbreaking though it was, this kind of rejection is common in developing countries such as Ecuador where visa applicants bear the burden of proving they do not intend to remain in the US. I would later learn that Raúl’s being truthful about his relationship with me in his interview constituted further evidence of such “immigration intent”.

When Raúl’s job offer in Equatorial Guinea failed to materialize, I returned to Ecuador a few months later to work with Community Enterprise Solutions (CES). Prior to my return we bought a small café/bar in order to improve Raúl’s chances on a future visa application. The eight months that I lived with Raúl in Cuenca (the major city closest to Baños) were some of the most stressful either of us have lived. Both of us, for different reasons needed to work our full-time jobs in addition to running the café/bar in the evenings. Fourteen hour days were common. My own job involved regular trips to the field, occasionally leaving Raúl to work and run the café/bar by himself on the weekends.

In spite of the stress, we learned to work out any problems respectfully and enjoy the small things in life and the rare moments we had together, even if that meant just falling asleep together in exhaustion. On top of our work responsibilities, we also began the process of applying for a tourist visa for Raúl to come and visit for my grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary celebration in August, 2011 to which he was cordially invited by my grandparents (Go here for more on my grandparents and coming out to my extended family after the Peace Corps).

Thanks to the pro-bono advice of Lavi Soloway of Stop the Deportations: The DOMA Project, Raúl and I were able to put together a much stronger tourist visa application (Read the story here).  Among the help we received was a Class B Referral from the Country Director of Peace Corps/Ecuador as well as a letter from US Rep. Bruce Braley. Though those letters guaranteed no particular outcome, they were helpful in getting the US Consulate to carefully consider Raúl’s well-prepared application. Against the odds, the US Consulate in Guayaquil approved Raúl’s visa. Upon hearing the news, I cried in relief, disbelief and sheer joy. Our hard work paid off.

The month and a half that we spent together in the US was unforgettable. Raúl was able to meet most of my dad’s side of the family all of whom received him with open arms. He also attended his first baseball and football game. Raúl was able to experience life in rural Illinois as well as in Chicago and New York City. Perhaps the highlight of the visit was when we got engaged atop my apartment building in Chicago on a beautiful autumn day, overlooking Lake Michigan, the University of Chicago campus and downtown in the distance.

To this day, Raúl continues to talk about his experiences with any Ecuadorians who will listen. In a very real way, the visit fulfilled Peace Corps’ second goal. However, Raúl’s visit also contributed to the third goal by leaving an impact on the Americans he encountered. Whether it was the conversations he had with my parents or the woven crafts workshop he gave at the local art league, he often shared stories and traditions from his native Ecuador. As a frequent translator, I often contributed my own perspective to the conversations.

Yet, perhaps more than anyone else, my understanding of the US, my family and my self was enriched by Raúl’s visit. In Raúl’s fascination with the common phrase “thank you so much” I became aware of the Midwesterner’s tendency to value politeness and civility, something one tends to take for granted when growing up there. I also began to understand the usual Ecuadorian lament about Americans’ carb-heavy and preservative-laden diets, something I had also taken for granted, even after 2 years of nutritious Ecuadorian fare! Naturally, these and other insights helped the two of us to learn about each other and provide a basis for mutual understanding even as we now live in different countries.

Though Raúl returned to Ecuador months ago, we continue to maintain contact as before with daily phone calls and Google video chat. Yet even with daily contact, it has been hard for us to live apart, and particularly for Raúl who now lives in what he describes as multiple worlds. In one, we are able to be open about our love for one another. In another, he must keep us and himself a secret for fear of losing his job and housing. Feeling foreign in his own country, Raúl cannot claim the US as home even though we both know it is the only place where our family, our love and our dreams for the future can be one.

Last week, Raúl and I celebrated our civil union on our two-year anniversary in Ecuador.  With a small group of our Ecuadorian friends, including my host mother and aunt from my Peace Corps site, we held a short ceremony and fiesta to commemorate our special day. The simple ceremony and reception (we spend most of our ever-diminishing resources on plane tickets) was a sign of what we hope to come. We both dream of someday “officially” marrying in the United States in the company of friends and family.

Though that day may still be far off, we are optimistic in light of a constellation of recent court rulings, legislative activity, and activism that may lead to a quicker solution than we originally thought. Currently, I’m collaborating with GetEQUAL, Stop the Deportations and Out4Immigration and their “Home for the Holidays” Initiative. The purpose of the initiative is to petition Secretary of Homeland Security Janet Napolitano to grant humanitarian parole to same-sex bi-national couples so that we can start our lives together in the US. This initiative was launched during the holidays to call attention to couples like Raúl and me who wish to spend the holidays with our families in the US.

This Christmas, many couples, including Raúl and me, know that we will not be together. However, because of efforts like “Home for the Holidays”, and the countless individuals and organizations working to bring about greater equality at all levels of government and in the private sector, next year may well be different. The two of us will certainly be counting our blessings on the 25th.  Many same-sex bi-national couples have not had the opportunity to travel to the US, as we had this August.  Yet, in spite of the obstacles, it has been worth every moment for Raúl and me.  We both look forward to continuing to learn and grow together in the years to come.

You can learn more about the “Home for the Holidays” Campaign online and sign the petition here.

You can contact Brad Mattan at bmattan@uchicago.edu.

An Update – Documentary on the Fakaleitis of Tonga

- Brian Favorite, RPCV

Editors note:

Three years ago Brian Favorite, then a recent RPCV from Tonga, wrote a compelling article for our website about his experience with the transgender Fakaleitis of Tonga, Tongan boys raised as girls, many of whom chose to dress and live as women for the rest of their lives. Other Polynesian cultures have similar transgender members of their communities. His article includes a YouTube video he had taken of some of the Fakaleiti friends, including footage of the Miss Galaxy contest, which is a yearly beauty and talent pageant held to raise money and awareness for the Fakaleitis of Tonga.

 It was Brian’s aim to produce a documentary about his new friends, Like a Lady, the Fakaleitis of Tonga. Tonga is a very Christian and conservative society and has mixed feelings about the Fakaleitis. They live and work openly in the islands, but we would describe most of them as living at the lower end of the social ladder. Brian now brings us up to date on the making of his documentary and his return to Tonga for more interviews and footage.

It has been quite a journey with Like a Lady and I am halfway to completion.  I was warned by documentary professionals (with a playful smirk) when I first considered taking on this project, that it could take up to ten years to complete a documentary by a first time director. Inside I scoffed at them saying to myself… not me! I have years of experience in production in LA and beyond and can quickly figure out the ins and outs of such an endeavor. Opps!

Let’s begin where I left off in the summer of 2008. Since then, I did return to Tonga with a cameraperson and completed 60 hours of interviews and footage of the subjects doing everyday activities giving an idea to the viewer of what Tonga is like for the 15 Fakaleitis I interviewed.  What a challenging adventure it was. We were pretty much intruding upon a group of folks at all hours of the day and night, who were spread over miles of land and sea, and culturally not inclined to value the importance of keeping a schedule. I purposely planned the shoot for five weeks during July and August of 2008 when the coronation of the new King and the 15th annual Miss Galaxy Pageant were to take place. There was also scheduled a reunion of sorts for any and all alumni of PC Tonga with as many as 25 RPCVs returning to Tonga for the festivities. It was a very exciting and proud time for me to be there with a camera in Tonga and the video footage shows it.

After a long and exhausting five weeks with the various mishaps and drama in front and behind the camera, I came back to Chicago where I was living at the time to take on the daunting task of fundraising for the completion of the project. I had raised sufficient monies before leaving for Tonga to complete the production part of the film including flight costs, equipment costs, rental, insurance and expenses while there. I was now at a point where I needed to fund the editing cost, which is in the ballpark of $48K for a professional picture and sound editors, etc. and much more than what the production cost me.

While in Tonga, my strategy was to shoot as many of the Fakaleitis who were willing to be on camera, then after the first week narrowing down which subjects were most available and committed and who spoke from their hearts. In the second week it was becoming more clear as to who among the Fakaleitis were invested in being in the documentary and from there, I had to figure out a story arc for each of them with an eventual and gradual conclusion to their storyline. Much of the work was propelled with faith hoping I was there at the right time and place. I hoped when I set up a camera, amazing things would occur. They did.

My plan was to shoot like crazy, eventually come home to the editing room, organize what I had and work in cooperation with a professional editor to piece together four diverse, compelling, thought-provoking stories from four Fakaleitis, picking the Fakaleitis with the strongest story arcs out of the fifteen I followed. This did happen. I was delighted to have much to choose from and it was clear I had my four. Mergina is a city girl who runs her own hair salon and goes out to the bars most nights. Joey, the queen bee of the Fakaleitis, organized the Miss Galaxy Pageant and helped design and decorate the King’s banquet preceding the coronation ceremony and is the founder of the Tonga Lady Association. ‘Epi Pola competed in the Miss Galaxy Pageant and is studying to be a tourist representative for Tonga Tourism. Hapakoki lives way out in a small village and works in a small resort preparing food while dreaming of marrying his Kiwi boyfriend while planning his eventual move to New Zealand where their marriage would be legal. Possibly other Fakaleitis will be in the final documentary in some form yet to be determined.

Each of the four stories would run twelve to fifteen minutes in length and inter-cut each other, so to fill the anticipated required broadcast time frame of 58:40 minutes (for commercial breaks) or an hour-long television broadcast time slot.

I continued my research for funding, applying to the foundations and institutions aiding the completion of independent low-budget documentary work and was told time and again, your film is compelling but this is a very depressed and a competitive time for independent film production funding, but please go ahead and still apply. You may be a reader who is savvy to the art of writing a good grant, who can understand the magnitude of time and effort it takes to crank out one of those babies. It is time-consuming, committed work. Most include a summary of the film with a one-line description, a detailed spent and projected budget down to the dollar, a survey of your anticipated audience demographic and why they would be interested in this subject. Why this subject matter is important for us to fund? Why did you take on this project? Who are you and who is your crew (bios of everyone)? Include a video sampling of what you shot or anticipate shooting and other work you have done. Now imagine having various grants being due at the same time (each asking for this information in different formats) and you can understand the challenge of keeping your focus and energy level intact while moving forward in the face of rejections while your regular life commitments, including a full time job (I was working six part time jobs when I returned from Tonga.) I realize this sounds like a pity party, my point being, it truly is hard work and on many an occasion I had to rustle up my determination and commitment to see this through to some sort of completion.

So now with all this footage and an idea of how to compile it, I realized after writing a few grant proposals; there was something lacking in the story. I wasn’t clear as to how I envisioned the film. This lead to my waning interest in the project. I came to a halt, but I felt I needed to let the project “breath”, as well as for myself as well.

Then a fellow filmmaker suggested I contact the amazing story consultant Karen Everett, a lesbian filmmaker and professor of documentary at UC Berkeley, who suggested I include my story of being in the Peace Corps and openly gay but who was asked to go back in the closet while in service, at least for the first six months. This would make the story overall more accessible. The Fakaleitis journeys were now through an American Peace Corps eyes. My story also is the thread to pull their stories together. Karen’s input turned everything around.

I did not intend to have my story included in the film, so I was at a loss for any footage of me in Tonga. Finding visuals to accompany my narration, I pulled together my Peace Corps photos, and sent out a request to fellow volunteers to send me photos to include in the documentary, Luckily I also made a short video of myself narrating a tour of my village after one year of service. More was needed. I had an animator friend incorporate visuals to my narration and storyline. Tess Martin and I agreed that an animated “puppet” of her design, of me, should look nondescript, invisible. A clear, plastic figure of me gives the analogy of my feeling ‘see-through’, not complete as a person since so much of who I am had to be kept secret from my fellow villagers. Our collaboration helped get my momentum moving again. When my project feels fired up, I ride that wave of productivity and push myself as hard as I can to complete as much as possible before that wave moves out again.

Check out Tess and my collaboration:

LIKE A LADY: THE FAKALEITIS OF TONGA trailer with animation by Tess Martin

At this juncture in the project, I have slowed down on the grant writing (the rejections wore me down) and have decided to apply for a master’s degree at the San Francisco State University using this documentary as my thesis project. My hope is that documentary theory and writing classes will require me to dig deeper within myself to pull out a richer narration. Before I went into the Peace Corps and served my assignment, I would not have dreamed years later I would be producing a documentary on a transgender community in the South Pacific. Funny how the Peace Corp cannot only affect the 27 months of your tour, but inspire you to continue work that first came to you while being there.

You can reach Brian Favorite at bjfavorite@yahoo.com for questions or ideas about film grants, raising funds, and comments.

Jopara (Paraguay) Mission Statement

- PCV Paraguay

Jopara is a committee organized by Peace Corps Paraguay Volunteers interested in supporting diversity within the Volunteer community and strengthening contacts with diversity interest groups in Paraguay. The USA is a diverse place, and we feel that it is important for this multiplicity to be represented and supported amongst Volunteers.

Among our objectives are:

  • To provide a support network for Volunteers to discuss the challenges of living and serving in Paraguay while reflecting the diverse face of the USA. Jopara intends to provide support for Volunteers who identify with a range of situations regarding, but not limited to: ability, age, chemical dependency, dietary restrictions, ethnicity, gender identity/expression, marital status, physical/emotional health, race, religion, and sexual orientation.
  • To create a safe space for Volunteers struggling with limitations and challenges due to their diverse identity where they can express themselves freely and obtain necessary resources.
  • To provide resources and information on in-country diversity interest groups.
  • To serve as a resource to Peace Corps Paraguay staff and Volunteers in regards to training and sensitivity issues.
  • To provide resources to Volunteers who want to educate themselves or their community about diversity in Paraguay, the USA, and the world at large.
  • To identify and remove all barriers, whether institutional, attitudinal or behavioral, to the full and meaningful participation of diverse Volunteers.

For more information or a PCV Paraguay contact email lgbrpcv-news@lgbrpcv.org

Safe Zone Training in Jordan

We recently heard from Peace Corps volunteers in Jordan about continuing Safe Zone Training there. This year’s session had some additional changes to the training script so that it fit better within a Jordanian context. Like Safe Zone sessions in other Peace Corps countries, this was based on the Safe Zone training developed and taught by volunteers in Guatemala a couple of years back (available here). Jordan volunteers conducted their third Safe Zone training this September with the new PCV members of their Peer Support Network and several staff members who had not yet been through the training conducted last year. Two new volunteers will be trained in the coming months as Safe Zone facilitators to take the place of volunteers who are completing their service at the end of 2011. The files included with this article contain an updated trainer script, Power Point slides and a participant packet. Volunteers in countries with similar religious and cultural backgrounds will find this training package a good starting place for developing examples within the context of their individual countries.

Jordan volunteers are also training Language and Cultural Facilitators (local trainers who will train the new volunteers) on American and Peace Corps diversity issues. Included in this training are issues of “covert” diversity and specifically the experiences confronting LGBT and Jewish volunteers. Volunteers who have been involved in Safe Zone and Diversity training for local Peace Corps staff comment on the success of these sessions.

Questions about the Jordanian sessions can be directed to editor, Mike Learned, learned_mike@yahoo.com.

Training Materials:

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