Peace Corps

Life as a Wife and a Volunteer—Peace Corps Style

Rayna Larson

Why I Joined the Peace Corps

In the orientation at Penn State, I remember being told that people never do anything for just one reason.  We all have multiple reasons for doing everything we do, including joining the Peace Corps.  Today we might call these “talking points”. 

To See the World

Just before our final departure my husband Blaine and I were asked “Why we joined the Peace Corps?” by a reporter from The Arizona Republic, who came to take our photo and interview us.  We dutifully gave the reporter multiple reasons for joining, but the only one printed in the story was that we wanted, “to see the world.”  This resulted in a nasty letter from a reader who was angry that his tax money was going to be spent for us to take a two year vacation to “see the world.”  And to think that all along, we thought we were “doing something for our country!”

A Family Tradition

My grandfather after his return from Samoa.

My great, great grandfather in his old age.

 Some of those multiple reasons included my Mormon heritage.  I had read my great, great grandfather’s journal written in the mid 1800’s.  He was called as a young man to go on a mission to Burma but ended up teaching English in India and couldn't get home to America for several years.  In the late 1800’s my grandfather, James Byrum Pace, saved his money as a teacher and went to Samoa on a mission.  I probably would have gone on a mission, too, but in those years, a young woman had to be 23 years old before she could go and I was married by then.  When the Peace Corps was announced, it seemed like a second chance for me to “do something good for the world.”

Presidential Junkie

Another reason was that I was a political junkie—really a presidential junkie.  I even wrote a letter to President Truman when I was in elementary school. On one summer vacation, our family ended up in the same city as a national convention of governors and I saw Thomas Dewey in the parade.  When he ran against Truman, I wanted him to win just so I could say I had seen a president of the United States.   

In February of 1959, a banquet celebrating the Sesquicentennial of Lincoln’s birth was held in Washington, D.C.    It was announced that all three living U.S. presidents were going to be in attendance.  Two students from every state would be invited as guests to represent their home state.  Through a nomination from my school, American University, I became one of the two students representing Arizona.  Herbert Hoover wasn't there, but Truman was and Eisenhower gave the major speech.  I not only got to see a U. S. President, but I sat down to dinner with two presidents, albeit at a distant table.

We were given the newly minted pennies
not yet released to the public and our
plates were specially made for the
celebration.  Some students at my table
didn't want their plates,so I got a set of
four plates.

When Kennedy was elected, I was living in the Washington suburbs.  The night before his inauguration, a huge snow storm hit the area.  Newscasts were filled with stories of people who where snowed in.  I was determined to attend the inauguration, but no one wanted to go.  I finally convinced my sister, who was an English major, with the promise of seeing Robert Frost in person.  So very early that morning, we left her one year old baby with our husbands, dressed in our warmest clothes and snow boots and drove through the snow bound streets.  It was a great day. My sister got to see Robert Frost and I got to attend a U.S. Presidential inauguration in person.  “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country,” became another reason why I joined the Peace Corps. 

A Married Couple Joins the Peace Corps

I have often been asked what it was like being in the Peace Corps as a couple.  Some assume it was a romantic adventure; others think it might have proven difficult because of too much togetherness.  Let me relate some experiences which illustrate our life as a Peace Corps couple.

Penn State Memories

One small group  at Penn State training . Blaine is in the center back row and I am  one over to the right.  

At Penn State, where our training began, we were housed in the girls dorm with bunk beds--enough said!  Someone even thought we were brother and sister since we had the same unique last name, Larson-Crowther, which was a combination of Blaine’s father’s and stepfather’s names.  When everyone went camping, Blaine went with the men and I went with the women, which worked out fine.

 

Then, when it came time for the flight over the Pacific, our group was divided into males and females, and this time, Blaine and I were put in the male group.  We flew in a prop jet which was very slow and had to stop for refueling at places made famous by World War II—Midway, Guam, Wake, and Pearl Harbor.    My memory is that it took two nights and a day or maybe more to get to the Philippines.  After we arrived, we were not allowed to deplane, but had to sit in the hot plane on the tarmac in Manila waiting for the female volunteers to arrive by jet from Hawaii.   Although the females left at the same time, they were in a faster plane, which gave them a layover in Hawaii for a day at the beach so that our two planes would arrive in Manila at the same time.  All this was carefully planned so that rather than getting photos of tired, grumpy guys with two-day-old stinky, sweaty clothes, the news photographers could get pictures of pretty girls, newly suntanned and wearing fresh clothes, coming gracefully down the steps of their more modern jet airplane.
Eventually we were allowed to deplane and join in the ceremonies planned for us at the airport.  We were welcomed as the second wave of “Thomasites,” a group of 500 American teachers who had come to teach in the Philippines in the early 1900’s.

This is how we looked after we were finally allowed to deplane at the airport.  

Los Baños Memories

This picture was in a national magazine and  was  taken
by another volunteer.  We are watching a demonstration
lesson on science.

 During our in-country training at Los Baños, we didn’t live with the other volunteers, but were assigned to live in the International House for foreign students at the college.  This meant that we were somewhat isolated from the other members of our group, especially during the evenings; however, we met and became friends with some of the foreign students living there.  We never saw a menu, but every night, when we went to the dining hall, a plate of food was placed in front of us.  We noticed that friends sitting next to us were served entirely different plates of food.  One night when we arrived at the table we pointed to their plates and asked if we could have the same thing.  We were told that Pakistanis eat Pakistani food and that Americans eat American food.  We laughed inwardly because nothing we had eaten had                          a familiar taste to it.

Filipinos treated us royally with dinners and programs, even giving us Filipino skirts and blouses.
This is after a program in Los Banos.  I am the tall one on the left. 

We were also expected to put programs on for them.
I am the one on the right.

Wives Are Supposed to Know Everything

After Blaine was chosen to be one of the volunteer leaders, he went to our assigned province, Sorsogon, ahead of the main group of volunteers, which meant I was left alone at the International House for a period of time—long enough for Blaine to write me letters.  One evening a knock on the door brought a Peace Corps staff member holding one of Blaine’s letters clearly addressed to me.  On the back was written something like, “Tell so-and-so that I am working on it.”    To my surprise he demanded that I open the letter and let him read it.  When the letter didn’t reveal whatever information he was seeking, he demanded to know what Blaine had told me about this situation.   Apparently, one volunteer had previously asked Blaine to arrange a transfer from her assignment to one in Sorsogon.  I didn’t know anything about it.  The leader insisted that I wasn’t telling the truth and that Blaine would certainly have discussed this with me.  I really had never heard a single word about it.  After my visitor left, I started crying-- maybe from loneliness or maybe because I had been treated so rudely or maybe because Blaine hadn’t told me anything about it.  In a few seconds, there was a soft knock on my door.  Two Filipino members of the International House staff had come to comfort me, having heard this entire conversation through the wall.  Then, I began to wonder what else they had heard through the wall in the previous weeks.

“Get Me to the Train on Time”

This looks like the Legazpi  train station.  

After the Filipino elections the day finally arrived when all the volunteers were to leave Los Baños for their assignments.   Our group was to take the Bicol Express train to Legaspi and then travel on to Sorsogon by bus.  As directed, I packed my suitcase and sat on the steps of the International House.  I waited and waited, but no one came.  Finally I went inside and called the Peace Corps office.  They had completely forgotten about me.  Shortly thereafter a driver arrived in a jeep to pick me up.  Off we went flying through the jungle trying to beat the train to the next station.  A bumpy zigzagging road and no seat belts meant that I had to hang on for dear life.  Of course, there was no way that a jeep going on a rough road through the jungle could beat a train.  Someone had phoned the train to wait for us, but the train had a schedule to keep.  I was just happy to have arrived in one piece and that my suitcase hadn’t fallen out.

 

Train route Manila to Legazpi 

Whoever was in charge, decided against taking me back to Los Baños and the International House.  Instead, I was taken to a very lush private home with marble floors.  I don’t know how this house was chosen.  Maybe it was the local mayor’s house, or perhaps, a wealthy relative of the jeep driver.  No matter, they graciously took me in, gave me food and a bed.  They accomplished their assignment of getting me to the train on time with no mishaps, but the trip was not pleasant.  It was the overnight train and I had no reservation.  This might explain why I was the only female in the dining car full of beer-drinking men.  I stayed awake the entire night answering questions from strangers.

As the train reached Legazpi, I had two memorable moments.  The first was a beautiful pink and yellow sunrise behind Mount Mayon  framed with tall coconut palm trees.   The second was Blaine waiting at the station to take me to Sorsogon in his jeep.

On the ride from Legazpi to Sorsogon I saw for the first time coconut spread out on the highway drying.  This became a common sight on any open cement or paved  surface.  They sometimes covered half the road making it difficult to drive around it.

Sorsogon Stories

A Home of Our Own

 Although Blaine had arranged housing for all the other volunteers in our district, there seemed to be no affordable housing in the provincial capital, Sorsogon City, where we were assigned.  At first there was talk about the Peace Corps building us a small house.  In the meantime, we were to live temporarily with Dr. Leocadio, the Superintendent of Education.

 I remember that we had a breezy second floor bedroom that looked out onto the convent across the street.  Every morning we awakened to the chanting of prayers and the singing of the nuns.  We were soon embarrassed to discover that a young relative of the family, who was acting as their maid had given up her room for us and was sleeping in a closet on the floor.  This information spurred us to work harder to find our own quarters.

Because of flooding, Filipinos usually lived on the second floor of their homes leaving the first floor basically empty, unfinished, or sometimes as a shelter for farm animals.  We ended up renting the lower half of such a place, but it needed a lot of work.  Neighbors, other volunteers, and curious Filipinos who were passing by stopped to help.

I am painting one of the many open windows.

 We had to remove junk, scrape layers of dirt and finally paint all the walls and unfinished surfaces.  I remember that the paint was blue.  Although some homes had flattened sea shells set in wooden frames for windows, our windows were just open to the outside. There was a basic toilet and a cement shower that drained directly into the side yard.  This allowed snails and other small organisms to enter our shower from the yard. 

The kitchen was in the back yard separate from the house.  We learned that this was the custom because fires often started in the kitchen and when such a tragedy happened, this would prevent the whole house from burning down.  After we moved in, we discovered one minor flaw—our home had no ceiling.  When the family swept the floor above us, the dust would float down between their floor boards onto our heads.  I never remember any water coming down.  Maybe they never mopped their floor.  It mattered  little, however, because rain, wind, and numerous living things came in through the three walls of windows.

The three Castillo brothers that lived above us with their boarder, Fred, an architect who was working in Sorsogon.

We had several lizards that moved in permanently and ran unimpeded across our blue walls.  We were told that they kept the insects under control.   Eventually their little clicking noises became comforting rather than frightening.  However, spiders were not comforting.  One day a huge five inch spider came walking across the floor.  I smashed it with our broom and suddenly,  what seemed like hundreds of little spiders, were running in every direction.  It turned out that this was a mother spider carrying a sac of baby spiders on her back.

We bought a bamboo couch, but could not find a table and chairs.  We went to a “furniture store,” where we were taken immediately to the back yard and shown huge hardwood logs, four feet in diameter.  We were asked to select the log we wanted them to use for our table and chairs.  We also ordered a double bed, but when it came it was the size of an American twin bed.  At first I thought this was a translation problem.  Double and twin could have been misunderstood.  It turned out that a local single bed was a very narrow cot size.  We had to order a second “double” bed.  Our home was complete when Blaine painted a picture to hang in our beautiful blue living room.

You can see Blaine's  painting, the bamboo couch, and the blue walls where the lizards would run.
We are being interviewed for some radio program about the Peace Corps

Glimpses of a Romantic Vacation

 In spite of the critic who thought that the government had sent us on an extended honeymoon, we rarely experienced anything that came close to a romantic vacation, but in fairness I will mention a few instances.

After the Storm

In the first few days after arriving in Sorsogon, Blaine invited me for a jeep ride during a typhoon.  It seemed dangerous, but I joined him anyway.  Everything was unique and beautiful.  There was no one at all on the road—no cars, no people, just palm trees and jungle vegetation.  Everywhere coconuts had been blown down by the strong winds.  As the storm began to abate, a little boy came walking down the side of the road holding a gigantic leaf over his head as an umbrella.  It was a magical moment.  My immediate thought was, “Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noonday sun,” only, in this case, it was, “Mad Americans and little boys go out in a typhoon.”

A Day at the Beach

Although Blaine was often away on Peace Corps business, visiting other volunteers, going to the regional office in Legaspi, or even attending meetings in Manila, I do remember one weekend we had to ourselves.  We found an isolated beach...no huts, no boats, just a beautiful beach not too far from the main highway.  We had worn our swim suits under our clothes, but ended up swimming in the nude.  Almost immediately, we heard the squeal of brakes.  Peering into the distance we saw a public bus unloading a group that we recognized as Peace Corps volunteers.  We barely had time to retrieve our swim suits, swim into deep water, and pull them on before our friends arrived.  We had a good time that day, but it wasn’t the romantic get-away we had planned.

Christmas Eve Midnight Mass

Although we lived in a city that had recreational possibilities I never remember having time to go to dinner or the movies with Blaine. We did go to midnight mass on Christmas Eve at the local Catholic Church and once were invited for dinner by a group of volunteers who lived not too far from Sorsogon City.

Writing My Own Job Description

  I never learned how it came to be that I didn't get assigned to a specific school—as had all the other volunteers.  Maybe it was assumed that I was to be the supporting wife of a volunteer leader.  Or maybe I was supposed to be assigned to the local school.   It was the “model” school for the entire province and the teachers there regarded themselves as “model” teachers and perhaps didn't really want a Peace Corps Volunteer assigned to their school.

Sorsogon capitol where I worked in School Superintendent's Office 

The school superintendent told me that I was to work in his office.  My first duties were to write letters to Manila to try to get money for some teachers who hadn't been paid.   The thought of working for two years as an office assistant was too dismal to contemplate.  

Science Books

Somehow, I arranged to present a few science workshops for groups of teachers from outlying villages.  I saw the need for some handouts, which inspired the idea of printing inexpensive pamphlets for teachers. I gathered up some science books and began to write, “For Teachers Who Are Attracted to Magnets.”  They could be produced for less than three cents each.  The Peace Corps reproduced a large quantity and offered them to other volunteers and local schools.  A Jesuit Priest came across one and wrote me a very complimentary letter encouraging me to write more of these.  He also told me that the Philippines had a source of magnetic sand, just in case my book came out with a second edition.   I began working on, “For Teachers Who Are Sparked by Electricity.”  A publisher in Manila also came across the pamphlet and asked me to help edit some high school science textbooks written by Filipino science teachers. The Peace Corps office in Washington even wrote me a letter asking my opinion on what to provide new volunteer teachers. These affirmations helped make up for a lack of a “real” assignment.   

The Toaster

  When I was in elementary school, one of my favorite magazines in the library was Popular Mechanics.  It told how to make marvelous toys and useful household items.  The Peace Corps had given all of us a UNESCO book that detailed all sorts of wonderful things to make when living in primitive conditions.  I remember it told how to make a slide projector for a school with no electricity, using multiple mirrors to reflect the sun.  It also had directions for making a toaster which did use electricity.  I decided to make one.  I found some resistance wire at a local radio repair shop and the other supplies at a hardware store.  Of course, the bread didn't pop up.  You had to turn it over to toast the other side. You can’t imagine how good the familiar taste of toast was after a few months of Filipino food.





About this time someone gave us a can of butter from Denmark.  Afterwards we kept a store of guava jelly on hand at all times.  Our weekend guests all loved making toast at our house.

Day to Day Problems

 Shopping and Transportation

Thermos bottle for boiled water, Blaine, Manny, and Rayna

Lack of money was a problem for us.  Most of the volunteers lived in smaller towns in groups of four and pooled their allowances to cover the cost of a cook and other household help.  Although Blaine got extra money to cover the cost of gas and the upkeep of the jeep, we didn’t have money for a cook and had to get by with the 19-year-old son of the landlady as a house boy.  He cleaned, washed dishes, and boiled our drinking water, but he didn’t really know how to cook.  I usually had to do all the cooking as well as the shopping. 

 I never remember getting to drive the jeep, even once, but I was thrilled when I got a bicycle.  Now, I could ride to the market for food or to the pier for fish and clams.  I remember that beef was available only on Saturdays.  The entire carcass hung in the market and you pointed to the part you wanted.  There was a set price per pound whether you got the choice cuts or the soup bones.  After I learned this, I got up early on Saturdays and pedaled to the market so I could buy a tender cut.

Running a Bed And Breakfast

This was probably a Saturday afternoon, when volunteers would often come into Sorsogon.
I would guess it is December because of the typical Filipino star hanging over the table.

  Because Blaine was the volunteer leader for the surrounding area, our home became a kind of bed and breakfast with visitors almost every weekend, some staying overnight.  One volunteer became very ill and moved into our extra bedroom.  Our house boy became his practical nurse, until he had recovered sufficiently to return to his assignment.   Volunteers stopped by our house whenever they were in Sorsogon City, mainly to see each other, eat together, and exchange stories about their assignments.  Most of the volunteers were living in small villages with no running water so sometimes they even took showers at our house.

Here are a few of the volunteers who made up our Sorsogon family.

Besides the volunteers, we often had visitors from Manila, sometimes social and sometimes official.   Blaine’s parents had apparently complained to a senator that they hadn’t heard from their son who was far away in the Peace Corps.  Diplomatic wires buzzed and a young man was sent all the way from Manila to Sorsogon to check on Blaine, in person, and to tell him to write a letter to his mother.

A Not-So-Happy Jeep Story 

 A short time after we came to Sorsogon, Blaine had a not-so-pleasant experience with a jeep.  At a meeting of volunteer leaders, he was riding in the back seat of a jeep driven by another volunteer.  The jeep hit and killed an elderly man.  The collateral damage consisted of the side view mirror coming off and flying into Blaine’s face.  He came home with stitches and a bandage.  The headline in the local paper read, “Peace Corps Volunteer Injured in Accident.” instead of “Peace Corps Jeep Kills Local Man.”  The rumor was that the man’s family had been paid a good deal of money.  From that time on, young men would pretend to push their friends in front of our jeep, saying something like, “His family needs the money.”  Even though they were joking, Blaine had to be a careful driver because, in their horsing around, the boys sometimes actually stumbled into the road.

They Came Bearing Gifts--A Turkey! A Cheese! A Baby?  

"It Took a Whole Village..."

During a visit to Legaspi, an American Mormon family who lived nearby heard about us and showed up one day bringing a huge turkey from their farm as a gift.    We thanked them profusely, but were extremely happy they had already butchered it because I was still learning how to kill, pluck, and dress the much smaller chickens from our market in Sorsogon.  After taking the turkey back home, the real problem began.  What could we do with this huge bird?  We did not have a stove big enough to cook it.  Peace Corps volunteers either cooked with charcoal or used the little camp stoves given to us as part of our gear, even though the required fuel was not available in the country.

Luckily for us Philippine culture is full of FOAF's. (Friend of a Friend)   Someone in our neighborhood knew someone who knew someone who was in the business of renting out freezer space.  So off went our turkey to the freezer. In the hassle of trying to get our place livable and furnished, we forgot about the turkey until, one day, word came that we should come and get our turkey.




Now the same  old problem returned, except it was “What to do with this huge frozen bird?”  FOAF to the rescue!  Someone knew someone who knew the owner of the local bakery—one of those huge wood-fired brick ovens with long wooden spatulas.  Off went our turkey for the second time.

Now everyone, including our house boy and his mother, began to prepare the other fixings.  I don’t remember the menu, but I am pretty certain that we did not have cranberry sauce.  The turkey came back, beautifully roasted and delicious. Volunteers, our land lady’s family, neighbors, and some of the FOAFs were there.

It had taken an entire village to prepare this Thanksgiving feast, but the funny part was that it didn’t take place on Thanksgiving Day.   It might have been Christmas, but I think it was just a random day dictated by when the freezer  man needed more space.

The Great Cheese Chase

 On another occasion we received a small rounded waxed cheese from the Netherlands, a gift from a Professor of Linguistics who had befriended us at Los Baños and had decided to visit us in Sorsogon with his family.  It was a welcome gift—even fancier than the canned butter from Denmark that someone else had given us.  Although we didn’t have a refrigerator, we put the cheese with our other food supplies in the cupboard of our backyard kitchen.

The next day after our guests had left for Manila; I looked up and saw a big stray dog running past our open door with the cheese in its mouth.  Right behind him came our houseboy, Manny, chasing him with a machete.  They were halfway down the block when he threw the machete with surprising accuracy and the wounded dog dropped the cheese.  Manny came back, triumphantly holding up the cheese.  The wounded dog was howling so pitifully that I began to cry.  Off Manny went to find his uncle who was watching a movie at the local theater.  They came back almost immediately and put the dog out of his misery with the gun that his uncle always carried.  To end the story:  in spite of all that happened, we actually ate the cheese.

Could This Be True?

Since it was obvious that the Peace Corps wasn't really prepared for couples, I felt certain that they weren't prepared for pregnant volunteers.  Blaine and I had decided that the Peace Corps was to be our big adventure before starting a family.  Nothing specific was said to us about official policy, but I do remember getting birth control pills in Manila.

After we settled in at Sorsogon, we were constantly asked by Filipinos, why we didn’t have children.  They began sending us anonymous cards with pictures of babies on them and cards with prayers that God would send us a baby.  Somewhere along the way, we were told about another childless American couple, who came home, one day, to find that someone had left them an anonymous gift—a Filipino baby.  I always suspected that this was an urban legend, but the possibility that it might be true was unsettling.

Our Summer Proposal 

The Peace Corps office asked all the volunteers to submit a proposal for spending the summer break in a productive way.  Blaine and I proposed to produce television programs focused on English as a Second Language.  I planned to produce and write a puppet show for children and enlisted a beautiful volunteer who agreed to be the star.  The Peace Corps approved our proposal, but at the last minute, the beautiful star of the show went off to Zamboanga for the summer and I ended up as “Miss Rayna” on a weekly show called, “For Children Only” with Blaine working the two puppets, Toto the sassy dog, and Fred the slow talking horse. I made the puppets and Blaine painted the sets.  Blaine also had his own show, “English as a Key” for high school students in which he co-starred with Rosie, a staff member from the Bureau of Education.  We learned about story boards, script writing, set making, and about the hard work that goes into producing television programs.

The project required that we relocate to Manila for the summer.  We found a small apartment over a beauty shop which was convenient since I had to get me hair done just before our show was taped at the PBS studios in downtown Manila.

 Every night nearby hawkers called out, “Baloooooot, Balooot” as they peddled this Filipino specialty, a boiled fertilized duck egg, almost ready to hatch, complete with feathers, beaks, and legs.  This is one thing you need to try only once in a lifetime, if ever.

Our Second Year Begins 

Our programs on the PBS (Philippine Broadcasting System) were so successful that the Bureau of Education requested that we stay and continue them during the next school year.  The Peace Corps thought that doing television programs was too glamorous, but agreed if we also taught college classes at the University of the Philippines in Quezon City. 

Living on the UP Campus

The University, which was building small two-bedroom houses on campus for faculty members, provided us the first completed one as our quarters.  We were both assigned to teach English classes to incoming freshmen.






Second semester I was assigned to the graduate college and, as a presidential junkie, valued the hand signed transfer letter from the new UP President, Carlos P. Romulo, who had previously been the President of the United Nations General Assembly.

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Relaxing in our  house on the campus of the University of the Philippines

Although we were busy writing scripts, rehearsing, preparing lessons and grading papers we had more time for normal living.  We sometimes went to movies or ate Filipino fast food on the way home from the television station.  We met a young Filipino poet and his wife, who sometimes double dated with us.  We became friends with Leno Brocka, a Filipino student, who spent a lot of time at our house, sometimes staying overnight.  He later became a very famous movie director.  We also met several American families who reached out to us socially, as a way of thanking us for our service as volunteers.

Beware of Empty Bedrooms

 After we had been teaching at UP for a while, a group of female volunteers from a later Peace Corps group moved into the new house next to ours.  One was a grandmother who was having difficulties with the younger volunteers.  Someone’s idea of the solution was to give the older woman her own bedroom.  Since we had an empty second bedroom, it was decided that she would move in with us. I know that I did not volunteer nor agree to this arrangement.  We were told that this was to be a temporary arrangement—just until a new house was built for her. 

So now, we had a “mother-in-law” living with us who wasn’t related to either of us.  She complained about my cooking, gave advice to us on personal matters, and to my recollection never helped with any of the housework, which fell on me since we had, long ago, given up on the maid who put leftovers under the sink instead of in the refrigerator.

I began to long for the lonely, but quiet, times in Sorsogon.  I was especially homesick for our Sorsogon family of volunteers with their humor and funny stories.

Day after day, I watched as our “mother-in-law’s intended house was being built.  When it was finished, she still didn’t move out, claiming it had no electricity.  More time went by.  Finally, I was so exasperated that I went over to the house and turned the lights on.  She moved out in a few days.

           

Tales from Clark Air Force Base

This picture shows how much weight Blaine lost.

During the second semester at UP, Blaine began losing weight and came down with an unidentified ailment that allowed large amounts of blood to seep into his urine.  Since his father had died of kidney failure at a fairly young age, we of course, quickly sought medical help.  At first he was hospitalized in Manila where they checked out his kidneys.  Later he was moved to Clark Air Base hospital where they began looking for symptoms of various tropical diseases.

1. 
   

This was a difficult time because I had to continue teaching my classes plus some of Blaine’s.  Several days a week I would catch a bus for the two hour ride to Angeles, the nearest town to Clark Air Base, and then take a jeepney to the airbase gate

After the doctors did a biopsy on Blaine’s calf muscle to look for parasites, he was temporarily in a wheel chair.  As I pushed him around the grounds of the hospital, I had one of those literary romantic moments.  I felt like I was a nurse in some World War II movie caring for a wounded soldier.

My Introduction to Vietnam

In the hospital Blaine was sharing a two-person room with a real American soldier who had been wounded in Vietnam.  At that time the war had not started and I knew nothing about Vietnam or for that matter that American soldiers were fighting anywhere.  Meeting this soldier was my introduction to a whole era of American history that was just beginning to unfold.  The next time I came back to the hospital, the soldier’s bed was empty and Blaine told me that he had died during the night. 

The Ugly American Jeepney Ride

This picture is typical of the Jeepneys that I rode in.
 Now they are much bigger and more highly decorated.

One evening when I was leaving Clark Air Base, I got on a crowded jeepney that would take me into town where I could catch the bus to Manila.  An American serviceman walked up and shocked everyone, including me, by telling the Filipino passengers to get out of the jeepney.  I protested, but he waved me off and hired the jeepney privately for me alone.  I know he thought he was being kind, but it was a typical “ugly-American” thing to do.  Such events wipe out much of the goodwill that the Peace Corp was trying to establish.  At the time I couldn't think fast enough, but in retrospect, I wish I had asked the driver to go around the block and come back to pick up those abandoned passengers.

A Smoking Hot Bus Ride

 Another time when leaving the Air Base, there was no jeepney waiting.  In hope of getting to Manila before dark, I walked out to the main highway and flagged down a bus.  It stopped and I climbed on.  It was coming from a northern village heading to Manila.  I am sure the passengers thought it was strange that an American woman was on the highway flagging down busses, but I also thought it was strange that nearly everyone on the bus was smoking cigarettes with the lit end inside their mouths.  During our orientation sessions at Penn State, we had been told about certain groups who smoked this way, but this was the only time that I  ever saw this phenomenon.

Going Home

 When the doctors at Clark Air Base Hospital couldn't diagnose Blaine’s problem, it was decided that going back to the U.S. was the best choice.  The Peace Corps staff was probably influenced by the fact that one volunteer from our group had already died and the organization didn't need any more scary publicity.

I remember being called to the Peace Corps office and given the choice of staying in the Philippines or going home to the U.S. with Blaine.  Of course, I chose to go home with my husband.

Some of the new volunteers at UP took over our college classes.  Blaine’s co-star got another co-star and went on with their TV program.  My TV show, “For Children Only” ended.   I packed Toto, the sassy brown dog, Fred, the sock puppet horse; and the TV guide with a picture of “Miss Rayna” in my suitcase as souvenirs.

And so our “honeymoon” in the Peace Corps ended with Blaine in a Public Health Hospital in Baltimore, Maryland surrounded by sick Coast Guard retirees.  His final diagnosis was “idiopathic bleeding” which I was told by the doctor translates to “nobody knows.”  Blaine did, however, recover fully.

           

Useful Things I Learned in the Peace Corps

  

I learned how to cut a mango and how to skin a pineapple with no waste, but these skills were not as impressive as opening a coconut with one blow of a hammer.  Someone taught me to turn a coconut so that you can see the “face” and then hit one hard blow to the left eyebrow.  Sure enough the coconut pops wide open.  This was always an impressive trick that I enjoyed performing for my children and their friends.   

Many years after the Peace Corps, I was able to make use of another thing I learned.  One night, after taking a shower I discovered that my hairdryer wouldn’t work anymore.  The thought of sleeping with wet hair and the “bad hair day” that would follow, motivated me to use the skills I had gained making the Sorsogon toaster.  Sure enough, I was able to repair it.  That is why a broken toaster sits on my kitchen counter, right now, waiting for the same skills to be applied.

When I confessed to having no talent at speaking Tagalog, a linguistics professor taught me three rote sentences in Tagalog that were useful on a daily basis in Manila. “What is your name?”  “My name is Rayna,” and “I don’t smoke cigarettes.” This last one was used to fend off the many street venders. I still know all three sentences.  I have used the first two to open conversations with Filipino Americans I meet, only to disappoint them when I can’t remember any more Tagalog.  Little kids just go on talking to me, thinking that I can understand their Tagalog.  I recently typed into a computer translation program,  my remembered Tagalog version of  "What is your name?" and "My name is Rayna." and it came back in English as, "What is your name? I am the Queen." I had to laugh and laugh.

I have not, yet, had an occasion to cut down a jungle vine and get the water to drain out in just the right way, but I still remember how to do it.  I’ve told my friends that if they ever get lost in a jungle and are thirsty, they can call me on their cell phone and I’ll tell them exactly what to do it.

Although I never became one of the noted Peace Corps volunteers, written up on the internet, the Peace Corps and what I learned there have had a lasting effect on what has taken place in my life.


 I now have a great grand child and with luck, will pass on to him some of the things I learned in the Peace Corps.  His mother, however, will get the lovely hand embroidered tablecloth.

After leaving the Philippines Rayna Larson taught school in Fairfax County, Virginia during the county’s first efforts at racial integration.  She and Blaine separated in 1965.  Having written science pamphlets in the Philippines, she was inspired to return to college for pre-med courses and entered the Medical College of Pennsylvania, but quickly found that raising two children as a single mother, attending school eight hours a day, and studying in the evenings was too much.  After two years, she returned to Fairfax County and worked as a school psychologist until she retired in 1991. After her retirement from Fairfax County, she continued working off and on as a psychologist and college instructor in Arizona and California. 

  Having joined the Peace Corps as one-half of a couple, when almost everyone else was single, Rayna spent two years in China as a single woman with a group of mostly retired couples. She taught English in 2002, at XISU in Xian, and in 2004 at CFAU in Beijing, as part of a service project sponsored by Brigham Young University.

In addition to her two children, eight grandchildren, and one great grandchild, she stays in touch with many of her former Chinese students on the internet and through Face book.

This entire blog is from an article I wrote for  the book, "Answering Kennedy's Call--Pioneering the Peace Corps in the Philippines" which was published in 2011 to mark the Peace Corps' 50th Anniversary.

I have added additional comments and pictures that were not in my original article.