I got together recently with friends from my Peace Corps days. As with any gathering of returned Peace Corps volunteers, stories of grand adventures were swapped as were tales of woe owing to assorted diseases. Nursing boils the size of quarters. Foul discharge coming out both ends. All manner of exploits and unpleasantness, this trip down memory lane.
The conversation turned as it most always does to brushes with death. One shared a harrowing account of crossing the Sahara, recalling that sinking feeling of going in circles, hopelessly lost, with dwindling water supplies. Others told of close encounters with deadly snakes. I had nothing quite so gripping to contribute, so I just enjoyed listening.
After remaining silent for a good long while and not wanting anyone to think I was bored or depressed or something, I recounted the story of one of my most embarrassing moments during my two years of service, when I tried explaining artificial insemination to Fulani herders. Everyone got a go…
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