Peace Corps Swearing-in Ceremony

Antananarivo, Madagascar
When you are married for forty odd years to the same person, and your husband has been a US Marine, a PC Volunteer, fought in Vietnam War, and spent over forty years in the Federal Government, you live an interesting, difficult and challenging life. You really never know what is next on your plate when you leave the comfort of your home and you end up here and there around the world. As a wife of a former Marine, I have to remember saying former not ex. Once a Marine, always a Marine. Then there is the Peace Corps moment. Something, or some situations that would remind my husband of his PC days, then we would get the stories of the first PCV, Ghana I 1961. Most of the stories of my life seem to have been something that does not belong to us, but belongs in chapters of a history book.

Summer 2008 ~ I accompanied my husband to Monrovia. A two-month contract pushed onto almost two years on and off. On my way back to the States after a four month visit, I decided to make a quick stop in Ghana, dragging my husband along to visit his “village,” Koforidua, in Akim-Abuakwa on the scarp inland of the coastal region. We had the hotel rent us a car/driver and off we went looking for Barnett’s village and school. We drove over mountains, toll roads that didn’t exist in his day, and most of the scenery had changed as well. After a long drive, we arrived at our destination, not without some pain. The village had also grown, and Barnett didn’t recognize anything; but he remembered the school, Ofori Panyin Secondary School, and the village names, settled between Tafo and Koforidua. Fingers pointed us here and there, left and right, and we finally we found the school. We drove through a big blue and white gate into a compound with many buildings. Barnett looked around and didn’t recognize anything. We walked around and he finally saw something very familiar, his dinky old house, still standing after forty years. They actually kept those houses. We looked lost, out of place. One wandering teacher asked if he could be of help. I said, “My husband was the first PCV here, in this school.” The teacher asked us to follow him; he took us to the Principal’s office. We were invited in, interrupting a School Board conference. The Principal looked at Barnett and said, “So, you said you were the first PCV here.” Barnett said “yes.” Then the Principal asked for Barnett’s name, then proceeded to say never mind, don’t tell me. He then opened the last drawer on the right side of his huge desk, rummaged around, pulled out an old ledger, flipped the first two pages, and said, “Is your name Barnett Chessin?” Just amazing, truly amazing. That old ledger held a history of one of the first fifty PC volunteers out working in the unknown. We proceeded to take pictures. The driver became very emotional. According to him, he had witnessed history. So did I, and we both cried. The Principal took us for a tour of the school. A school Barnett started with three other teachers, a cook, and forty students. The school now hosted 1600 students. A success story indeed.

On May 4, 2010 we were invited to attend the Swearing-in Ceremony of 24 young PCVs at the Ambassador’s Residence in Antananarivo, Madagascar. While waiting for the ceremony to start, the ambassador asked if I had been a volunteer. I said no, but Barnett is Ghana I in 1961. The ambassador as he was giving the speech introduced Barnett Chessin, the first volunteer. The trainees, soon-to-be volunteers were very surprised. “Yes kids, they are still alive.” We were offered snacks and drinks. Time to mingle, and exchange stories. And every one of them wanted a picture with the legendary Barnett Chessin.

I am still nurturing the idea of joining the Peace Corps when I grow up. Perhaps in five years when my husband decides to retire for the fifth time, for real!!!! Until we meet again, stay safe everyone and God bless!