Wave of Inspiration

One generation answered Kennedy’s call. Sixty-five years later, their stories are still sending new Volunteers into the world.

RPCV Marie Fleming’s real
mother (left) and her host mother (right) share a hug on a visit in Madagascar.

When thinking about the legacy of Peace Corps, we as a community often cite with pride John F. Kennedy’s speech at the University of Michigan in 1960, where the idea of Peace Corps was first articulated, and the astounding reception his call to service received when more than 1,000 young Americans signed a petition in support of the idea and offered to join up.

“How many of you who are going to be doctors are willing to spend your days in Ghana?” Kennedy asked. “Technicians or engineers, how many of you are willing to work in the Foreign Service and spend your lives traveling around the world? On your willingness to do that, not merely to serve one year or two years in the service, but on your willingness to contribute part of your life to this country, I think will depend the answer [to] whether a free society can compete. I think it can!”

Those words inspired the first generation of Americans to serve in Peace Corps, but President Kennedy also knew that one generation of Volunteers would inspire another.

As a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer who served relatively recently (Madagascar 2017–19), I still recall the person who inspired me to join. While I was working as an intern at a demining NGO during my junior year in college, my boss at the time, Dr. Ken Rutherford, regaled me with stories about his time serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Mauritania in the late 1980s. With each tale of adventure (and purpose), I was ever more convinced that I wanted to follow in his footsteps. Dr. Rutherford told me about his responses to a questionnaire applicants were asked to fill out ahead of receiving their assignments, in which he made clear his willingness to be placed in a deeply rural, remote, and potentially challenging site. Little did I know that one day I’d be asked to answer the same questions—and would give the same responses.

A decision to join Peace Corps often begins with one person simply telling another what service meant to them.

Would I prefer a small village or a big town? Small village. Was I okay with no electricity or running water? Yes. Would I be comfortable if I was isolated from other volunteers? Check. Would I prefer being outside walking distance from the nearest town? Again, yes. I realize now that I was seeking to emulate my former boss’s Peace Corps experience.

My story is not unique. Over the past two years, I have been traveling solo across Africa and Asia, staying with Volunteers at their sites. So far, I’ve stayed with more than 60 Volunteers in more than a dozen countries—from the mountains of Nepal to the deserts of Namibia, the delta of Botswana to the baobab-laden villages of Malawi. Everywhere I go, I hear stories from Volunteers in the field about how past generations of RPCVs—teachers, bosses, mentors, parents—inspired them to serve.

Two of those Volunteers are RPCV Marie Fleming (Madagascar 2017–19) and Megan (last name withheld as she’s currently serving in Kenya). Both grew up in households shaped by Peace Corps service. Marie’s father, Russ, served in what was then Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo) from 1979 to 1981. That’s where he met Marie’s mother, a Congolese woman who would later immigrate to the United States. Megan’s father, Jack, served in Malawi from 1990 to 1992 and likewise met his wife—a fellow Volunteer—during service. Both Marie and Megan have chosen to carry on their parents’ commitment to service. That generational handoff is part of what has sustained Peace Corps for 65 years.

As a child, I remember watching a simple YouTube slideshow titled “Peace Corps Madagascar,” set to a Malagasy folk song and filled with photographs of Madagascar village life. “I’m going to do this when I’m old enough,” I told my mother after watching. For Russ, inspiration had arrived in a different way decades earlier: through JFK’s call to service and the idealism of the era. For Jack, it was a Peace Corps television commercial with the tagline “The Toughest Job You’ll Ever Love” that first sparked his interest in serving.

For Ken, my former boss, arriving in Mauritania meant entering the stark isolation of the Sahara and a conservative Islamic society unlike anything he had known before. Jack found that Malawi’s rolling green hills and masked Gule Wamkulu dancers felt entirely foreign to him. Russ still remembers driving through the dense and mystical forests of Central Africa toward training after first arriving in Burundi.

Both Megan and I had a similar experience of culture shock upon arriving in-country. We were greeted by meat hanging from shop ceilings and animals roaming the streets, things that felt strange but would soon become normal. Feeling like every second is filled with vivid new experiences and sights, though, is something that transcends generations.

Yet some experiences are entirely singular. Because of Marie’s Congolese heritage, rural Madagascar on occasion felt less foreign than familial to her. The women she met sometimes reminded her of her mother and grandmother. Foods tasted familiar. People frequently assumed she was Malagasy. Peace Corps service did not introduce her to an unknown world so much as reconnect her to one that already lived within her family history.

Peace Corps training has changed over the years, but Volunteers’ sense of excitement at embarking on a new adventure has not. Russ remembers being discouraged from speaking English during training under threat of being sent home. Ken completed much of his training in the United States before departure. Today’s Volunteers navigate a far more connected world, carrying smartphones and using WhatsApp and social media, which give them near-constant access to home.

Ken Rutherford at his site in Mauritania during his service from 1987 until 1989.

That connection to home—or the lack thereof—remains one of the few elements of the Peace Corps experience that these different generations don’t share. For Russ and his generation of Volunteers, letters were their lifeline. Calls home were rare, expensive, and often not even possible. Ken’s primary connection with the outside world was through a subscription to Newsweek provided by Peace Corps. The magazine was sent to Mauritania’s capital, Nouakchott, a two-day trip away, so he had it rerouted to a mailbox in neighboring Senegal, which he could get to after crossing a nearby river and walking 10 miles. Ironically, despite serving decades ago, Russ and Jack both had access to electricity and running water, whereas Marie, Megan, and I did not.

Access to technology and communications is one of the few major differences in the generational experience of Peace Corps.

Peace Corps has changed each of us in ways that go beyond our assignments themselves. Russ and Jack both met their spouses through service and built families shaped by their years abroad. Ken carried lessons about hospitality and human dignity into his career in humanitarian work on campaigns to ban landmines, ultimately earning him the distinction of being a co-laureate for the 1997 Nobel Peace Prize. Marie’s service deepened not only her connection to her father’s Peace Corps experience, but to her Congolese heritage and her mother’s world. It later led her to pursue graduate study and environmental work focused on Africa. Megan’s story is still unfolding. Mine is too, as I continue to travel around the world visiting Volunteers.

What strikes me now, after years of meeting Volunteers across continents and generations, is how often a decision to join Peace Corps begins with one person simply telling another what service meant to them. A former Volunteer speaks to an intern. A parent shares old photographs with a child. A mentor tells stories over coffee. One life quietly expands the limits of what another person imagines is possible. Kennedy understood the power of service from the beginning. Sixty-five years later, Peace Corps isn’t just about those of us who served overseas. It is also about the people we inspire to do the same.

Sam Friedberg (Madagascar 2017–19) is a writer and photographer who has spent more than a year traveling solo through Africa and Asia, staying with over 60 Peace Corps Volunteers at their sites along the way.