Remember the Peace Corps? Tom Griffith does, because he volunteered in Niger in the early 1970s. For decades, he told everyone he met about it and welcomed their admiration. Nowadays, he has to explain to school groups “what the bloody Peace Corps is.” And so he does, in this remarkable memoir. It follows him from student days at UC Berkeley, scene of riot and revolution. Then, to service as a teacher in one of the poorest countries on earth. He recounts a famine, a coup d’etat, snake attacks, classroom violence, and culture shock that led him into his “own private heart of darkness.” Griffith’s zest, humor and honesty make this more than the usual memoir. In describing his coming of age, he probes the paradoxes of baby-boomer identity - the high ideals and the low behavior, the pride and the guilt, the lures of the flesh and the quests of the spirit. In Griffith’s case, the upheavals of his twenties led him to the last place he expected – a Christian conversion. Out of his Peace Corps journey, he finally found peace.
When I discovered Tom had written a memoir, I flashed back immediately to the wonderful stories he told while sharing an office for a semester, then on a trip around Japan. I can’t call him a raconteur as that usually involves exaggeration. But there was plenty of wit and spirit in his stories. It turns out, he has had a lot of practice. From an early age, he has been a storyteller. And the best part is we get to see another side of him. Or rather, pretty much every side of him. Luckily, he has had an interesting life and knows his story well.
A good memoir, besides stories, is an exercise in exactitude. Tom must have one hell of a set of journals or some eidetic qualities. An even better memoir plumbs the depths of reactions and feelings. It allows the reader to paw through the text and recognize commonalities. An excellent memoir, only done by the courageous, goes even further to explore what the reader is unfamiliar with, allowing us to explore new territory. Tom covers a lot of territory, from West Coast California to the middle of the Sahara, back to the East Coast US.
But the more interesting territory is that of Tom himself, and how he feels, thinks, acts, and reacts. And how he is different from us, or at least how we think of ourselves. We gnash our teeth when he berates himself for a common error, but howl at his lapses of empathy. He wanders down some ugly dark paths and shines a light on them nonetheless. He must have been a copious journaler with no filter or fear of being discovered. And yet, he shares. He shares about teaching, about his reading, about his foibles, about his poor girlfriends. Balance that with raucous friends and a deep realization of how the Peace Corp changed him, and prepared him for an eventual religious conversion. He doesn’t proselytize, he just lays it out there, take it as you like.
Both the content and the writing style remind me of some of Tolstoy’s early work. There are parallels of a life of repeated mistakes, a continual search, and finally a conversion. It is an easy read, but the weaving of the storylines must have taken a huge amount of time as they formed the fabric of his personality and the fabric of his times. Even if you don’t know Tom, you should read these stories. They will give you something to think about.
I found this book to be deeply relatable. I was deeply moved as I reflected upon my one coming of age process. Though my seeking led me in what seems the opposite direction I suspect we may not be so far apart in the end.