Gut Check: What’s my motivation?

Between my freshman and sophomore years in college, I took a summer job as a sanitation cleaner at a major meat company. For the summer, the pay was great, the hours were awesome, and I grew to like using a fire hose and dangerous chemicals to clean off big machines that would take logs of ham the size of my leg and hack them into thin slice lunchmeat. Or my leg, if I wasn't careful.

Every night, before we started to work, I had a ritual with one of my co-workers, Sam. He would grab my shoulder and ask, "Kyle, what's our motivation?" I'd grab his shoulder in return, and say, "To make our pockets super phat". Part inside joke. 100% truth.

Although I left Oscar Meyer a long time ago, (and I refuse to eat their meat) I still find myself asking Sam's question at various points of my life, particularly when things aren't going well. Since I've been in Peace Corps, the short answer to the "What's my motivation question" is to help NGOs, learn about a new culture, and gain professional and personal experience. Its a bit more complicated than this, but that is the basic idea.

When things were at their worst, somewhere between midnight and dawn on Tuesday, I asked myself the usual question, and I didn't have an answer. I freaked out.

This has happened before, and will probably happen again. I've found that I go through cycles of feeling good and bad, and these feelings can switch pretty fast. It's part of the bumps and bruises of being in Peace Corps in Kazakhstan. Some days I rock Kazakhstan. Some days Kazakhstan rocks me

After I got a hold of myself, I took stock of things. Why was I feeling this way? Could it be burnout? My primary organization, the Local Community Foundation, works about 40-50 hours a week. I'm not talking about sitting around for 5 hours drinking tea and then working for 3 hours (although we did this one week), but 8-10 hours a day of real work such as typing documents, writing and reviewing grants, assisting other NGOs in the region, and stuff like this. Working 50 hours isn't a problem, but I get tired faster than I normally would in a work environment where I'm communicating and writing in two and sometimes three languages .

Events that happen in America also have an effect on me. It seems silly because I am so far away. Is it worth expressing dismay about situations that I can't control, or is it better to not worry about it, shrug it off and continue on? I still don't know the answer to this one. However, I do know that I'm only as strong as my base, and when the base is rattled I shake too.

There is also the future. I have started to think about my life after Peace Corps. However, this is an awkward time. With under 200 days remaining before I'm finished, I can see the end, but it's far enough that it is too early to start applying for jobs. And I don't know what exactly I want to do! As Yoda said, "Always in motion is the future."

So with my head full of work, worrying about loved ones in America, and worrying about my future, I didn't sleep, and watched the sun rise. I then trudged to work.

Besides babushkas, the only people in Kazakhstan who can take one look at me and know that something is wrong are my former counterpart and my current director. Babushkas, in addition to being always correct, also have mind reading powers. My director saw me first thing when I went to work. She asked me what was wrong, and we had a heart to heart.

I learned that I wasn't the only one that was feeling down and having a tough week. My director is also exhausted. The working hours also take a toll on her. In addition, the members of my organization have gone without pay for 2 months. They will get paid next month, when they receive another grant. (If they could operate without grant money, this would never happen. We think we've figured out a way to make this a reality. I'll write more about this later.) She looks for a new accountant, but nobody wants the job because they pay the minimum salary. We lost our grant manager. Nobody knows what an NGO is. Times are tough. Her back hurts. Then we sat together for awhile and wallowed in our respective miseries. Then my director said this:

"I could quit. I could go home. I could be a principal again. But that is easy. Other people do easy things. We do not. We have an open perspective. And I need to see with my eyes what will be our end result."

That resonated with me on so many levels, and was the answer to a great many questions and immediate problems at work, Peace Corps, and in my life. My director is a wise woman.

After that, she sent me home because I looked like a "zombie". She took Wednesday and Thursday off for rest, her first days off in over a year, according to our project manager. For me, the week got a bit better: on Wednesday, I finally figured out the post office. I'll write more about how this happened later. On Thursday, I went to nearby town to see a leadership seminar for youth that was done by some fellow volunteers. They did an awesome job. And Friday was a normal day in the office, and we even got out early! I'm looking forward to sleeping, cooking, and reading some old school James Bond thrillers and recharge myself to do it all again next Monday.

So while it was a very tough and draining mental week for me and everyone at the Local Community Foundation, we somehow got through it.

Like we always do.