Making Friends in
By Jeff Whitehill
Some months ago I was the victim of a crime. I had some valuables stolen out of my apartment by some people I thought were nice. I was lonely and depressed and thought maybe I had found some new friends. Though my possessions were returned to me and the criminals were locked up, the situation became progressively worse in my village. I am providing this tale to all of you in hopes that you can learn from my mistakes. Pay heed, for this is a story of betrayal and deceit.
I play soccer fairly regularly with a group of men during the summer. I’ve been playing various sports with them for the past two years and they were all friendly and welcoming. This particular Wednesday, however, was not an ordinary day. I arrived at the school where the game was usually played to find a group of young men, about my age, loitering about. They were dressed to play, but none of the regulars were there. I walked up and changed into my cleats, thinking that the regulars were all running late, per usual.
The young men struck up a conversation with me and what followed was typical of most conversations between young men. Firstly we talked about soccer, my cleats etc. We then quickly progressed to girls and similar “serious” topics. After a few minutes some more young men arrived, toting a box. We all squatted in a circle, and I was introduced to the new comers as their new American friend. They produced from this box a large collection of beers, which they passed around the group.
Seeing as I was squatting on the edge of a soccer field next to a secondary school, I declined the beer. I declined many times, actually. The correct move would have been to excuse myself from the group and head home, but I was enjoying the company. Remember: I’m lonely.
One member of the circle, a squirrelly little Kazakh man, fell in love with my Washington Huskies hat. He wanted it as a gift, and became quite vehement when I refused to part with it. As a means of consoling him, I offered him any of several other hats I had, promising to bring them to the next game so he could look over them and choose his favorite. He proposed that we go to my apartment and get one now. After much pressure, I caved like a wet noodle and I led a small group of four “friends” back to my apartment to get hats and drink some tea.
Once at the apartment my new “friends” became fascinated with everything I owned. They looked at my pictures on my wall, played my guitar, looked through my books and gazed longingly at my iPod. We eventually made it into the kitchen where I brewed the tea. While we waited, they wandered about a bit; some going to smoke on the balcony, others going to the bathroom or returning to my living room. Once the tea was brewed we sat down and drank a cup. I then gave out my hats, and we said goodbye.
As soon as they left I looked about my apartment and noticed several expensive items missing. I’ll cut to the chase at this point, because the absurd details of dealing with the police is something many people are familiar with. I got my things back, more or less in working order, and the guys were caught. I thought the problem was settled, but it was only just beginning.
I returned from a summer camp in mid August to find out an article had been written about me in the local paper claiming I had gotten drunk with these boys, invited them to my apartment to imbibe some more vodka and “various other spirits,” and only after we were very drunk did they steal my things. The article said I was a bad influence and I shouldn’t be teaching the local youth. Like the great Richard Nixon, I had fallen victim to a liberal media out to destroy my reputation.
The local Raion took this article as canon and called Peace Corps to have me removed. Peace Corps took my side; they made a trip to visit the Raion, met with the Deputy Akim and followed up with a strong letter. Though we have the facts, according to the police report, on our side and every single person I know claims this article couldn’t be the truth, the government seemed convinced of my wrongness and disreputableness. As the letter from Peace Corps said, “We find it very strange that an American Volunteer, who is in
Not everybody in this country values our work or desires the presence of Peace Corps. There are a few people who would love nothing more than to discredit our work, as you can infer from a line in the letter to the newspaper from a so-called concerned citizen. “The Law-enforcement institution closed this criminal case very easily, but it suggested some ideas… Is it at all possible that all PCVs associate, without embarrassment, with such company? And what can such a teacher teach our kids, in addition to English?”
The actions of one volunteer reflect on all of us, and “someone” – I think we all know who - was using this situation to create the idea that all volunteers could be disreputable people, tainting their children with our improper action.
In the end, the truth set me free. The Raion and Akimat read the Peace Corps letter, reviewed the police report, which confirmed my story, and could not deny that I was, in fact, a stand up guy. The Akim himself gave me permission to stay until the end of my service. I was happy and grateful for this rational end to the problem.
It was a relief to know I would not be leaving my community under these circumstances. Now I have a chance to make sure I leave a lasting impression of goodwill, hard work and honesty with my community. This whole situation helped me to realize I am not satisfied with what I have accomplished here, and will strive to do more in my community.
My wish is that you can learn from my lesson and be very careful who you associate with, however briefly. Don’t allow people to take advantage of your kindness, generosity or naivety, as happened in my case. There are plenty of good people to befriend in