Let's Meet the New Stage!

I was asked by the training group to write the introductions of each member to be published in the Peace Corps Senegal's monthly publication. With the help of a few other volunteers, mentioned below, this is what we came up with. Voila...

New Volunteer Introductions

Merci beaucoup to Richard Alec Ross, Emilie McClintic, Maya Lau, Shannon Mills, Emily Scott

Now at the close of PST, we’ve begun to chip away at many of the initial judgments we made about one another (others have been reinforced…) So we thought it would be fun to look at those first impressions and the accumulative impressions into which they have evolved. We have enlisted Richard Alec Ross to pen his thoughts on each of us (with the help of a few friends…) If it seems strange that our entire stage would want to know Richard’s impressions of us, it’s only because you haven’t met him. You must meet him. Go to Saint Louis, bring him a siriche of books and red wine and meet this man who has no malice and has no problem with plunging necklines.
Mary Allin: Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack, all dressed in tie dye and jeans always makes a point to do "GAD" work through her wardrobe and other habits…

Nathalie Andre: Natalie whose suitcase bore more books than the Amazon.com shipping ware house had little room to pack more than one floral blouse and a pair of jeans.

Josh Birmingham: Insofar as communication, he relies on a keen sense of economy-and sometimes, he does so with such vigor, he teeters on the fringe of vegetation. However, it is in the company of "strong-women types" when we observe exception and his laconic tongue begins to violently hiss. It is then, we meet the stages’ most silent "say-say."

Cassie Blass: Her brain salivates over the numbers 15 and 31 – telltale signs of a true Cribbage player. As she sits hunched over her miniature wooden racetrack in the disco hut, her pegs confidently galloping past her opponents', her clipped golden tendrils need finger-combing and she pauses for laughter. Never one to be easily skunked, Cassie courts would-be challengers late into the night, her gleaming baby-blues and congeniality impossible to dislike.

Jack Brown: A new-age man’s man who is only happy in the face of hopelessness, Jack dreams of making a living digging SUVs out of the Swamp of Sadness. His penchant for futility finds its most formidable enemy in his favorite article of clothing’s the Utili-Kilt.

Carla Burns: As volunteers of yore brought basketball to Senegal, so too will Carla be credited with introducing to this good nation another great American invention: Jazzercise. We all hope to receive the knowledge she passes on.

Kate Carol: Kate refuses

Melanie Chamberlain: When the sessions wind down and the terrifying unknown lurks into the disco-hut, we need not worry; her nerves are already clenched to a hair trigger. Famished for clarification, she explodes into a feverish blitz of anxiety and interrogation, leaving the shell-shocked tech trainers to flummox and flutter in their own cluelessness. In desperation, they loft over "Inchallahs" but in mid-air, she deflects them as entirely insufficient.

Ariana Constant: Raised upon morals of New York City rush-hour she urges on with the same plangent roar of 3 million horns honking at once! But in this same respect, when the West African has us all so convinced that a day spent beneath a tree is a day well-spent, we’ll remember Ariana as we try to reintegrate into the push and shove and appreciate her militant discipline to remain, against all odds, in a rush.

Elizabeth Corkery: Beneath her veneer of suburban Illinois pearl-donning girlishness is a globe-trotting bar-hopper who has had a few hilarious run-ins with the law—just ask those damn undercover cops in Poland. After deciding she didn't immediately want to plunge into the certified public accountants’ lifestyle (and who would?), she instead opted for a 2-year stint of ceeb-eating, Wolof-shouting, small enterprise developing work with the Peace Corps. But after that, who knows? That MA she has, yeah, that may one day come in handy.

Kenny Cox: voted for Bush in 2000 and we are fairly certain voted again for him in 2004
Katherine "KC" Crocker: Despite her dual degrees in English and Chemistry (wait, why?), KC does us the courtesy of only correcting our grammatical blunders occasionally…just don’t confuse nauseated and nauseous.

Erin Fenton: Already Intermediate-Mid Wolof in the womb, she entered her caffeine-induced reality, never needing training-wheels to ride from the used bookstore, to the art gallery, to an independently owned coffee shop, back to the bookstore for an open-mic, where she unveils her homespun English to Russian translation of the first chapter of Lolita.

Josh Fickle: Ravishingly American, he wistfully skinned a proud collection of ‘Bush-Cheney’ campaign stickers off his homemade guitar (His father used the rest of the wood to construct a rifle) before arriving to staging. But not to worry, in the stuffy company of slap-happy liberals, he keeps his cool head-perhaps in great thanks to the mesh baseball cap transplanted to his head.

Matthew Gardine: Against the drab of his wardrobe and the geekiness of his lifestyle, he somehow or other fills a gangly build with riveting charm and cultivation; and for some reason, his face, burdened by wooden ski goggles and a fish-hooked nose, still dangles the description of something ng oddly handsome. Yes, if there could ever be bright beige, Mathew would personify it, and if perchance, he ever convinces you with all his high hopes and rosiness, his glass (of beer) is always half-full, do believe him

Ryan Gorman: Terminating his gym membership early to join PC, he was able to afford a few more designer T’s from Macy’s. Since arriving, however, he has worn them with sleek modesty and aplomb-all of which, in only six month’s time, will serve the eye and enamor the heart of a wayward "French national."

Franck Guzzardo: Beneath his adorable, southern-comfort laden exterior, this affable Floridian is rife with internal conflict, "To be Polish, or to be Pulaar?" "To pay off existing loans, or to bury oneself in debt?" and most importantly "To go to Dakar, or not to go to Dakar?" These are the questions that shape Franck’s new, free-range, West African existence. There is one thing, however, about which Franck is sure: he just quit smoking…

Jason Haack: Very seldom closes his ultramarine eyes, but when he does, you can rest assured, he is about to shut the lid of a 30 watt tanning bed. Then and there, he will daydream of how muddy he is as a mountain-biker and how white he is as a pharmacist. Once his skin reaches that resplendent glow, he’ll enter their range and prove he is a marksman at large and as such-all beautiful women-take cover!

Ashley Hansen: Here in Senegal, the last thing we need is another sprinkling of sweetness, but we’re willing to smack out lips for Ashley if one day, she’ll share that Patagonia discount with us.

Cailen Hegman: Stoic but unpredictable! Pithy but nimble of wit! He can be as motionless or as brisk as those Montana Mountains from where he hails.

David Jaglowski: David J. has the voice of an angel, the humor of a demon, and the tattoos to prove it. Mix in some of that Chicago street cred and you've got yourself a Mr. Wonderful—he's funny but self-effacing, a SED-er but not MBA-track, tall but not gangly. His charm will sneak up on you like a thief in the night, the type of thief Etienne will later text everyone about. But David would protect you from that very same thief, a true friend who will never leave you alone in a vulnerable situation, paternally watching out for you like those talismans on his shoulder blades.

Brian Kay: While some of the more unsavory characters of the Summer ’09 stage opt to release stress through stuffy, traditional outlets (smoking, drinking, dare I say…sex?) Brian takes the road less traveled by when he chooses to decompress with a well-worn copy of "How to prepare for the Foreign Service Exam." Inchallah, this man will complete Senegal’s tax return before his two years are up.

Mike Kelley: Since he’s been uprooted from his much beloved desert, he has proven to be a chimerical raconteur of Peace Corps folklore, as well as a prolific repository for ludicrous knowledge. He has, in his own right, exposed the sagacious underbelly of creepiness.

Lucas Knutter: Having already completed three sections of the online application before realizing he was in fact applying to the Peace Corps and not towards his lifelong dream to enlist into the US Marine Corps, he paused and drew a long sigh. Too stubborn to turn back, he decided to go through with it acknowledging he has already 22 years of experience in the middle-of-nowhere.

Maya Lau: As the Michelangelo of idiosyncratic motion, Mya’s led an indomitable offense since she’s arrived to Peace Corps, marring the masses with her masterful muscle-memory. In addition to her severe impersonations, she’s a busybody at heart and a glutton for gossip, with a weird fetish for headlamps.

Christine Lee: Refugee of the financial crisis, Christine can give you a stylish bob, wield an uppukay and run spreadsheet equations at the same time.

Elida Lynch: Elida who keeps all of us guessing with a knack for silence

Ben Magen: A hot-blooded University of Michigan football fan or perhaps Michigan State (Whatever school Alysa roots against) he has the endearing stockiness and insouciance of the gnome next store.

Ethan McClelland: When hell does finally freeze over, Etienne, agog that his big crisis came true, will first notify Lucas and Ethan, "Tonight, the color of the party is green." Ethan, despite his best efforts, will show up to that party in red.

Emilie McClintic: Having been brought onto this planet to serve in Peace Corps Senegal "rekk," she shares, rather encyclopedically, her mastery of the land. In addition, she has slipped her tongue around the jabberwocky of Wolof, and now, can be heard from miles away breathlessly "woof-woofing" at the deafening pitch, we now associated with Alxum radios. Neverthless, two years from now, when we’re ready to C.O.S., Emilie, having already found her ticket to Senegalese citizenship (that being a Senegalese national), will be bidding on property.

Tim Meadors: Recently released from perdition, he appears rather weathered and bedraggled-by which he hopelessly conceals with a tucked in shirt and spectacularly altered pants. But more than this, he seizes the innermost of our attention with an ode to his new sector in Senegal-Yes, upon his back, he carries the densest forest in all of West Africa.

Shannon Mills: Notwithstanding our stages pitiful bunch of boyfriends and girlfriends left in America, no one has been falsely promised and continually played more by the organization of Peace Corps than Shannon. But despite such rockiness, she’s arrived to Senegal in high spirits, albeit a couple years off schedule, but at least she believes, as so many of you frighteningly do, that if it’s meant to be, it can wait two years.

Alys Moshier: Insightful Alys never misses a moment to point out that yes, Senegal is in fact not America; this sassy blond proclaims "deedeet" to the prospect of lowering her standard of living just because she’s moved to Africa. Luckily Alys skillfully troubleshoots whenever possible and solves simple problems such as: "It’s hotter here, therefore buy a fan" or "the roads here are worse, therefore take motion sickness meds.

Jessica O’Herron: Gushing forth from one place to the next, her delicate frame nearly takes flight. Or perhaps it’s because of the Red Bull bubbling in her bloodstream that leads us to believe she does, in fact, have wings. Whatever the case might be, any stray kitten would be blessed to have such an upbeat partner in the noble fight against hookworm.

Katherine Onyshko: Is not Japanese.

Austin Peterson: As an American in West Africa we’ve all lugged cultural baggage over with us. However, in the case of Austin, let it be known, he planned ahead and packed light. How else would you suggest if the only culture you had ever known sported the prefix "Perma." Indeed, he has already lest us spellbound by his uncompromising integrity to his former lifestyle when he deemed his laptop unsustainable and at once, had it disappear.

Jacqueline Prideaux: Bespattering her pale fastidious hand with the gruel and grit of her third-world relocation, she has not yet blackened her angelic purity nor has she hardened her old-fashioned motherliness. Obviously her charm has worked on someone in the states, as Jackie receives a package for each hour of the day.

Jennifer Richards: Disembarking in Senegal after an Odyssean tour of the world's riches on board the good ship Octogenarian Love Boat, Jocular Jenn's every word ought to be followed by a drumroll and cymbal clash.

Mollie Roper: As she journeys to her "happy place" with church bells ringing melodiously-she will sometimes stall, and as to make you believe she’ll preach, she’ll desist and delight us with her philosophy on hugs or surprise us with her history as a snake-charmer or her knowledge of martial arts.

Tamar Rosenstein: After maxxing out on the number of times one can go on "birthrite," Tamar needed a new game plan for traveling the globe. Either join the Israeli Military of join The Peace Corps. We are all glad she chose the latter.

Richard Ross: Bushwhacking through his chunky Boston accent and muffled speech impediment, he manages to compensate, rather grotesquely, with fluffy language and pedantic sentence structure. Typically garbed head to toe in his New England eccentricity, he finds his center of balance when he’s either mid-dance or teetering the Atlantic. St. Louis, in this respect, is his 3rd world dream, and in his service there, we ascertain at the very least, he will introduce his beneficiaries to the deep-V.

Christine Sauve and Aaron Goodman: Despite knowing that this couple, recently plucked from the sand dunes of Mauritania, will probably hate being clumped as one person…sorry that’s what happens when you get married. However, in the spirit of GAD work, the woman’s name comes first in this write up.

Teresa Schnur: In another life she might have been a professional French hair-braider. Or better yet, a 9-1-1 operator, her soothing voice invoking a type of booming, cool-headed command. Just imagine Teresa saying, "I understand he has a machete and is holding a child hostage, sir, but tell me your location." This Montana "mamacita" knows a thing or two about sprawling fields and the Big Sky, but she's no wide-eyed day-dreamer. Her most memorable feature is her explosive laugh, which you will no doubt encounter upon spending your first 5 minutes with her.

Emily Scott: In between sips of beer and giggle-chat, does she reminds us that a life shrouded by loud music and poor judgement is in truth, the life we achingly miss. And in doing so, one memorial night after the next, she rids development work of its melancholy and mawkishness and replaces it with her version. Thiés. Where she’s the queen and the game carries on long past checkmate.

David Shames: Dark sunglasses sit perched on a sun-kissed nose, masking a half-blindness that only a ninja could acquire. Scruffles of strawberry curls puff out, forming a beard reminiscent of a blond Cherno. His glances throw curveballs; his pessimism silences unknowing bystanders. But then, it's only shameless Shames, imparting his tales of woe over a soundtrack of solar-powered guitar music, his soulful humor finally winning over the crowd. Who else could transform himself into a svelte impala whilst prancing from one Gazelle to the next? Just don't try to pry away his beloved cigarettes... that's "fuckin' weird."

Cora Siipola: The founding member of the female chapter of the haircut club, Cora has proven herself a pioneer and we have no doubt this will translate into her service. She is also our resident fortune teller, toting tarot cards wherever she goes, so if you see a tie-dye clad Cora while passing through the Kaolack region, be sure to take advantage of her clairvoyance.

Danielle Stoermer: We've yet to see her softball skills, but based on this cheerful Minnesotan's all-around athletic prowess, it's a good bet you want her on your side for WAIST.

Zachary Swank: As if cruising the halls of Sweet Valley High, Zach is most often seen roaming the center, book or laptop pressed insecurely by his side, ready to chat by the lockers with the cheer-squad (anxious to praise him for his stellar "Ice Ice Baby" routine). Though he did recently descend from the north toting the golden locks of an angelic cherub, his former post was not the third cloud to the left but rather the dust cloud of Mauritania.

Alexander Thompson: It's hard to feel sorry for this guy, what with his Eco-Tourism and his counterpart's campement on the beach. As he elongates his syllables—like any self-respecting LA-area native would—he is renovating the sex-tourism industry in Mbour one 200CFA piece at a time. When not working, Alex can be found cutting up the dance floor, with spirited African moves akin to bouncing on hot coals. He is apparently also quite well-versed in using Skype to communicate with his girlfriend. If you're lucky enough, Alex will eventually peel off that telemarketer headset and sit down with you, and he will make you laugh.

Alyssa Titche: Her accent smacks of Southern Californian nativity, but don't let that detract from Alyssa's fidelity to Michigan. Oh dear sweet Michigan, a source both pride and anxiety for this die-hard mid-westerner from even a continent away. Her big-heartedness is dabbed with a saucy edge, her opinions audible and pungent, effortlessly slating her into that "strong-woman" category.

Susan Trainor: Prolific ink-slinger to rival Paul of Tarsus, she was plucked from her promised and highly-touted assignment in Ziguinchor at the last moment and told on countless occasions (by PC staff) that her new placement in Kaffrine is far inferior.

Anna Travers: The charcoal crucifix nailed to her flesh might insinuate she is in Africa for other reasons, but aloft with such spunk and rapacious curiosity, her service in Peace Corps is in fact more a crusade to free herself from a giddy confusion than it is to preachify the word of Christ.

Byron Yee: No questions ought to be asked, his showmanship is as versatile as it is peacockish. He can pulverize with words. He can bedazzle with dance. Peace Corps is but a performance, and his site, but only a stage. And so, infusing the same blustery entreaty he once hammered us with…
Sit down! Sit down! Sit down! For his show is about to begin…