It's finally here - the moment you've been waiting for since the instant you set foot on Campus Drive: second semester of senior year.
Congratulations. As a 2007 graduate, memories of blissful Friday afternoons spent toasting to the homestretch are still fresh in my mind. I also vividly remember the panic that started to set in, worrying that I had less than four months to map out the rest of my life.
Pressure from parents to secure a 401(k) and friends who'd already scored a job with a big, fat signing bonus didn't help calm my nerves. But I did have at least one offer, though my parents were less than thrilled about it: a nomination from Peace Corps to serve in Latin America in July. My official invitation followed in March.
After some soul-searching and pep talks from close friends, I decided to take the plunge and dedicate two years working as a municipal development volunteer in rural Honduras.
I've been living in San Marcos, Intibucá, Honduras, for a little more than four months, and my life couldn't be more different from my four years at Maryland: No one speaks English, there are no flushable toilets or washing machines and my diet consists mainly of handmade corn tortillas, black beans and white rice.
"Work" is hard to come by. Tucked away in a chain of mountains that run from La Esperanza, the capital of the department, to the border with El Salvador, the city government in my little mountain town doesn't generate enough money to provide basic services that I took for granted in College Park (i.e., water and sewage systems and trash collection). I spend my days talking to people about problems, such as the lack of a consistent water source, and struggling to understand the intricacies of Honduran politics.
If you ask most returned volunteers about the most meaningful part of their service, they'll probably talk about their friendships. Buildings fade, but the relationships that we cultivate as volunteers last a lifetime. It takes time to earn the trust of someone whose knowledge of the United States is limited to the war in Iraq and Britney Spears. Lucky for me, I'm told that the investment comes back to you 10-fold.
It's not always a glamorous job. I have my days when I can't spit out an intelligible sentence in Spanish or no one shows up to my meetings, and I'm left wondering what the hell I was thinking coming here. But it's a job of paramount importance.
We live in a global world, and we're all connected. The demographics of this tiny mountain town are testament to that: A handful of the members of my community have brothers, cousins and uncles working three jobs in Virginia or Texas, making your hamburgers or cutting your grass.
Sept. 11 was a rude awakening, a jolt that shook my world. I was too busy enjoying life in my College Park bubble, dragging my feet to class and sprinting to Big Ass Drafts on Sunday nights to bother thinking about the way the rest of the world viewed my country. Living in Honduras has forced me to confront that reality and to combat the anger and hatred with an open mind and an open heart.
So go ahead and toast to your accomplishments with 50 cent rails. As graduation looms closer, keep Peace Corps on your radar. You can travel to an exotic country, learn a new language and a new culture and stretch yourself like you never could in a seminar on international relations, all on the government's dollar.
That 401(k) will be waiting when you get back.
Brianna Bond, a former Diamondback reporter, graduated in 2007 with a degree in journalism and is now serving as a Peace Corps volunteer in Honduras. She can be reached at brianna.bond@gmail.com.
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