Typical Day in the Life of a Peace Corps Volunteer Dear Reader: A request just reached me from the Atlantic Ocean via drifting bottle--"Martha, please describe your day as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Sierra Leone," signed Curious. Therefore I am casting this account to sea by return bottle. My husband John and I were awakened by cowbell at six AM along with sixty children residing at the Milton Margai School for the Blind. We cooked our American-style breakfast by candlelight as the power was OFF. Also, there was no water, so I yelled, "There is no water," to the telltale wind. Soon a black hand turned the appropriate knob and the precious water flowed into the dishpan, the toilet tank and the bathtub. 8:00 AM: While waiting on the kerb (British for curb) for a taxi to my secondary volunteer assignment, I exchanged hand signs with the deaf students next door. Finally a taxi driver agreed to take me to the ends of the earth for two Leones and 50 cents. He blasted down the road with me at his side and two men in the back seat. When we stopped to let them disembark, an altercation ensued as one passenger wanted his 20 bob (cents) in change back. As it wasn't forthcoming from the driver, a harangue started between the two litigants, their voices rising in pitch to the second power of the passing time. When the driver decided to pull away, the ex-passenger leapt back in the car and pulled the brakes so that he could continue the argument. I couldn't believe this was happening over 20 cents, but when Irate Ex-Passenger jumped into the front seat between me and the driver and started to pommel him, I believed it and took flight. The next taxi driver I flagged down said he'd only charge 2 Leones, so I was saving 50 cents as well as my life by changing cars! This driver was typical, increasing his speed as more pedestrians appeared along the road. By snarling and honking, the Red Sea parted before him and miraculously no one was hit. Arriving intact at Milton Margai Teachers College, I told myself, "Forget about the past and concentrate on present survival." Therefore I felt competent to instruct four piano students from the world-famous book, "Teaching Little Fingers to Play," besides delving into "Intervals" with Theory Class I. Then after a few moments of hilarious laughter with the Russian piano teacher, I found myself at ll:15 AM searching the horizon for a ride back to the Blind School. By three stages (walking, partial lift and authentic taxi ride) I arrived only half an hour late to teach Geography of the Ancient Middle East. The students of Class V (ages 12-14) learned cities, rivers, capitals, longitude and latitude from a Braille map. During the next two periods, we browsed through Matthew for our Bible Knowledge (B.K.) class, studied French, and read "Child's Garden of Verses" in Braille. Yes, hubby John and I have learned Braille - "eyes only" (no fingers). At 1:30 PM I ate a groundnut (peanut butter) sandwich and a papaya while reading a Large Sighted Book from our school library. (Reading material is scarce here, and most printed papers are in Afrikaans or Arabic.) After preparing lessons for two schools, I taught piano lessons from 4-5:30 PM. Later, as I was cooking dinner on our 3-plate gas burner, a Korean family arrived at the apartment. It seems my hilarious Russian colleague had offered my services as an English teacher for Number One Son Jong Oh. As the dinner burned, I acquiesced in this new venture. After clearing out the smoke, John and I ate dinner. Before the last morsel was down, two messengers said we were wanted in the auditorium as THE (only) Freetown radio station was here to record our Christmas Program. The lights flickered OFF, so we lit candles and waited for the return of illumination. After much delay, lights came ON and "Carols From Around the World" were recorded for posterity. Back at the apartment, John and I experienced one full minute of relaxation before students started arriving for Braille paper, requests for writing "sighted letters" to friends, and reading texts onto cassettes for later Braille transcription. Empty plastic containers were also in demand as footballs. 9:30 PM: The cowbell rang out the message QUIET, so John and I blew out the candles, sprayed our room with Shelltox and let down the mosquito net. When the fumes had dissipated, we retired to the familiar sounds of the lapping ocean waves, crickets, cicadas, bats, and droning mosquitos. Your faithful Peace Corps Volunteer, Martha D. Peterson Back for more travel adventures

My class at Milton Margai School for the Blind, Freestown, Sierra Leone, West Africa. Students: Kadie, Thomas (future law student), Saidu and Sholi