Archive - August 2019

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A Writer Writes — “Development Is Down This Road” by Abigail Calkins Aguirre (Cameroon)
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Martin Ganzglass (Somalia) publishes THE PRICE OF FREEDOM — #6 of a series
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A Writer Writes — “Punch” a Short Story by Chris Honore’ (Colombia)
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“The Visit” by Lawrence F. Lihosit (Honduras)
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How to “Be There” for the Premiere of A Towering Task
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Review — UNORTHODOXY by Joshua A.H. Harris (Mali)
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MOU between Peace Corps and the National Peace Corps Association
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A Writer Writes–“Telling Time” by Katherine Jamieson (Guyana)
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A Writer Writes — “The Roads Are Closing” by Patricia McArdle (Paraguay)
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Still time to join the September Workshop for Writers
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Review — NEIGHBORS: Oral History from Madera, California by Lawrence F. Lihosit (Honduras)
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5 Brilliant Short Peace Corps Writers Stories (Eastern Caribbean, Mali, Zaire,Tonga, Mongolia)
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Be There or Be Square
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A Writer Writes — “The Right Way to Grow Tomatoes”
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A Writer Writes — “My Race Problem: Who Is A Patriot?” (Chad)

A Writer Writes — “Development Is Down This Road” by Abigail Calkins Aguirre (Cameroon)

    Development Is Down This Road by Abigail Calkins Aguirre (Cameroon 1987–90) FEW RECOGNIZE ME without my trademark Suzuki. Now I have this red Yamaha DT they gave me to replace it. I’m still white, though, or so they keep insisting as I pass by the shouting voices trying to get me to stop to do a favor, chat, or taste the latest in palm wine. I know I have a bike, but how do you say “I’m not a taxi” in the local language? I’m late, I’m in a hurry, I’ve got to help a women’s group plant rows of plantains and pineapple in their community farm. This road could jostle my insides right out of me. My thighs are sore from being abused as non-stop shock absorbers. Yet, nothing beats a forestial commute: a time to take in the bushmeat hanging for sale along the way. Someone . . .

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Martin Ganzglass (Somalia) publishes THE PRICE OF FREEDOM — #6 of a series

    About The Price of Freedom  Number 6 in the series of novels about the American Revolution by Martin R. Ganzglass (Somalia 1966–68)   The Price of Freedom is my sixth and final novel in a series on the American Revolution. The first book, Cannons for the Cause, begins in the brutal winter of 1775 when the principal character, fifteen-year-old Will Stoner and his teamster father, are engaged to haul heavy cannons from Lake George, New York to Cambridge, Massachusetts, as part of Colonel Henry Knox’s “Noble Train of Artillery.” This last novel begins after the crucial victory at Yorktown in October 1781, and ends in the summer of 1784 in liberated New York City when Patriots and former Loyalists begin to overcome their wartime differences. The underlying theme throughout the series is the important role ordinary people, including the “invisible minorities” — African Americans, women and Native Americans — played . . .

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A Writer Writes — “Punch” a Short Story by Chris Honore’ (Colombia)

    PUNCH by Chris Honore’ (Colombia 1967-69)   For a time, my family and I lived in Watson, a small farming town in California’s Central Valley – flat, nondescript, a sepia photograph slightly out of focus. Everyday I walked to school and back along dusty, rutted roads bordered by wide irrigation ditches usually filled with green-brown water. The water was controlled by a series of concrete locks that could be opened by turning upright, wire-spoked wheels allowing the water to flood out into the fields, sluicing along parched rows of cotton. In late spring and all through the relentless summer, we swam in the water nearest the locks where it was deepest, diving off the concrete abutments, splashing one another, whooping and hollering, playing like young seals. One hot day in late May, I was walking home with Ben and his younger brother, Marshall, who everyone called Punch. Except . . .

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“The Visit” by Lawrence F. Lihosit (Honduras)

      The Visit by Lawrence F. Lihosit (Honduras 1975-77)   Armando Votto Paz wasn’t just any Community Development foreman. He not only got us what we needed but stood by us whistling away the dark clouds. I didn’t want to let him down but being young, my genes were jumping. I was in love and had just slunk back from a clandestine trip to Mexico City. Secrets (like a Mexican girlfriend) are easier heard than kept. I feared the worst when Armando surprised me at my La Ceiba office where I was typing legends for my own maps. He paged through my report’s appendix, checking calculations and smiled before suggesting that I take the day off. He had to visit another volunteer in an isolated village. Since I had never been to the place and he could use some company, he thought it a good fit. We climbed . . .

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How to “Be There” for the Premiere of A Towering Task

  The following announcement gives specific information on obtaining tickets for the Premiere of A Towering Task as well as program details for the many other events.  September 22nd will be a celebration of Peace Corps at the Kennedy Center in Washington DC. https://mailchi.mp/peacecorpsdocumentary/reach-event?e=d09090d4d IT’S OFFICIAL! Join us for the first screenings of A Towering Task: The Story of the Peace Corps The REACH’s Justice Forum @ The Kennedy Center Sunday, September 22nd  |  4pm & 7pm Join us as we build a community of global citizens We’ve teamed up with the National Peace Corps Association (NPCA), the Returned Peace Corps Volunteers of Washington, DC (RPCV|W), and The REACH at the Kennedy Center to host a full day of events to celebrate the Peace Corps and global citizenship. The festivities begin in the REACH’s Justice Forum and Studio F at 10am! From oral storytelling to a life-size replica home to augmented reality stations, it . . .

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Review — UNORTHODOXY by Joshua A.H. Harris (Mali)

    Unorthodoxy by Joshua A.H. Harris (Mali 1996-98) Atmosphere Press December 2019 $8.99 (Kindle), $8.69 pre-release price Reviewed by Sue Hoyt Aiken (Ethiopia 1962-64) • This story takes place in the summer of 2012 in Berkeley, CA, which is the perfect setting for all that unfolds and unwinds in this story.  I grew up in Berkeley back in the 40’s and 50’s so all streets traveled by the story teller, Cecil Reitmeister, are familiar well traveled locations. We meet Cecil in his increasingly decrepit home where he grew up as he reveals his beliefs and personal habits that are part of his Plan!  Staying true to his Plan keeps him focused on how he conducts his life even as he slowly unwinds from reality.  This is a story of how an isolated, lonely adult has matured from an equally lonely childhood filled with weirdness and isolation to an awareness . . .

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MOU between Peace Corps and the National Peace Corps Association

Peace Corps and the National Peace Corps Association has signed a Memorandum of Understanding. (https://www.peacecorps.gov/news/library/peace-corps-renews-partnership-national-peace-corps-association-austin-texas/) The actual document  may be obtained from Peace Corps – FOIA – 0091.  The infomation here is  from that FOIA, which was reformattted in Rich Text.   Here is an except which defines distinction between NPCA activities and Peace Corps: The Peace Corps reserves and retains the right to determine, establish, direct, and implement programs and activities in accordance with all applicable laws, regulations, its policies, procedures, and subject to the availability of funds. Moreover, the Peace Corps will not be engaged or involved in, or collaborate with NPCA on, or promote or publicize, NPCA’s advocacy or fundraising, or membership drives, or any activities that do not directly relate to the Peace Corps’ mission.     MEMORANDUM OF UNDERSTANDING BETWEEN PEACE CORPS AND NATIONAL PEACE CORPS ASSOCIATION This Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) sets forth  the  understanding  between  . . .

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A Writer Writes–“Telling Time” by Katherine Jamieson (Guyana)

  Telling Time by Katherine Jamieson (Guyana 1996–98) FOR TWO YEARS I LIVED in a country with no seasons. We measured time by other means than falling leaves or snow, new buds on trees. There was a fresh breeze in the air, the ash of burned sugar cane floating in the window. There were times to go to work, times to stay home, an election, an eclipse; all of these differentiated the rising and setting of the same hot sun, and the appearance of a glowing moon and full set of stars. Rain would break the swelter like the fever of a child dissolves into sweat, and the whole city would breathe differently that day. Then the sun would come again and dry what had fallen, and could not last. I came to this country with the expectation of seasons, and before I had woken to a blinding sun on . . .

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A Writer Writes — “The Roads Are Closing” by Patricia McArdle (Paraguay)

A Writer Writes   THE ROADS ARE CLOSING By Patricia McArdle (Paraguay 1972-74) Winner of the Foreign Service Journal Summer Fiction Contest in 2009 • How did I let her burrow so far into me that twenty years later she still lingers just beyond the daylight, curling around my mind like tendrils of sweet cigar smoke, distracting me with the soft clink of ice cubes in her sweating glass of gin and tonic. The thing is, I never should have spoken to her the first time.  She was not my type, not part of my plan. Oh yes, my plan.  Finish my masters in International Relations, pass the Foreign Service exam, hustle my way to the top — marry the right girl, which I did, but it didn’t last. I married even better the second time — the daughter of a former ambassador, but that didn’t last either. I even . . .

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Still time to join the September Workshop for Writers

The workshop will be held from Wednesday, September 18th to Saturday, September 21th at Shore Retreats on Broad Creek, on the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay, Maryland. Costs range from $100 for those on tight budgets, $250 for those of modest means, and $500 for those who can afford it. The retreat facility includes shared living quarters, meals, and snacks. If interested, email: jcoyneone@gmail.com Faculty Marnie Mueller (Ecuador 1963-65) was born in the Tule Lake Japanese American Segregation Camp. She is the author of three novels: Green Fires, The Climate of the Country, and My Mother’s Island. She is a recipient of an American Book Award, the Maria Thomas Award for Outstanding Fiction, Gustavus Myers Outstanding Book Award, New York Public Library Best Books for the Teenage, a New York Times Book Review New and Noteworthy in Paperback, and a Barnes and Noble “Discover Great New Writers” choice. Her short stories, poetry, and essays have been widely published in magazines and anthologies. She . . .

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Review — NEIGHBORS: Oral History from Madera, California by Lawrence F. Lihosit (Honduras)

    Neighbors: Oral History from Madera, California by  Lawrence F. Lihosit (Honduras 1975-77) Kindle Direct Publishing May 2019 232 pages $20.00 (paperback), $9.99 (Kindle)   Reviewed by Bill Preston (Thailand 1977-80) • It would be a mistake, on first impression, to fault or dismiss this unique and remarkable book for focusing narrowly on twenty-three individuals in one small city in central California. To someone (like me) living, say, in a small town in northern New Jersey, it would be easy to read the cover and simply conclude, “So, what does this have to do with me?” You would be wrong, of course, as I usually am when making a snap judgment before actually learning about something new. In one sense, the stories in Neighbors are a kind of microcosm; you might be tempted, if considering only the individual stories (the trees, if you will), to miss the a broader, more . . .

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5 Brilliant Short Peace Corps Writers Stories (Eastern Caribbean, Mali, Zaire,Tonga, Mongolia)

  The Mending Fields By Bob Shacochis (Eastern Caribbean 1975–76) I WAS ASSIGNED to the Island of Saint Kitts in the West Indies. Once on an inter-island plane, I sat across the aisle from one of my new colleagues, an unfriendly, overserious young woman. She was twenty-four, twenty-five . . . we were all twenty-four, twenty five. I didn’t know her much or like her. As the plane banked over the island, she pressed against the window, staring down at the landscape. I couldn’t see much of her face, just enough really to recognize an expression of pain. Below us spread an endless manicured lawn, bright green and lush of sugarcane, the island’s main source of income. Each field planted carefully to control erosion. Until that year, Saint Kitts’ precious volcanic soil had been bleeding into the sea; somehow they had resolved the problem. The crop was now being tilled in . . .

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A Writer Writes — “The Right Way to Grow Tomatoes”

A WRITER WRITES   The Right Way to Grow Tomatoes By Karen DeWitt (Ethiopia 1966-68)   I’d forgotten that I had even taken the Peace Corps recruitment test when that long-distance call came on a cold January day in 1965. Then, standing in a battered wooden telephone booth in my dormitory at Miami University of Ohio, I heard someone say, “Congratulations. You’ve been accepted.” Suddenly graduate school, job, the ordinary future that stretched before me and my classmates disappeared, replaced by adventure, excitement, and the unknown – literally the unknown, for I hadn’t even asked what country I would be stationed in. Didn’t know, didn’t care. Suddenly, I was to be part of an adventure for my generation. I was to become a Kennedy kid, one of those thousands of young people whom he had asked to dedicate one or two years of their lives to work in Africa, Latin . . .

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A Writer Writes — “My Race Problem: Who Is A Patriot?” (Chad)

A Writer Writes   My Race Problem: Who Is A Patriot? By Michael Varga (Chad 1977-79) In 1976, the U.S. bicentennial year, I was cornered by my Aunt Martha. She had worked for the Pentagon in a variety of administrative positions and believed strongly in serving our country. My eldest brother had been drafted during the Vietnam War and served in Southeast Asia for a 14-month tour. She was proud of his service but she was chagrined about what I was planning to do. “Why can’t you teach in America?” she asked. She stood with arms akimbo and placed her hands on her hips. “This is my opportunity to travel. To see something outside of Philadelphia,” I answered. In our Italian family, people spoke of the “evil eye,” a sort of death stare that translated as what you just said is not even worthy of a response. She gave me . . .

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