The first day of our Marketing game was a minor disaster. I was expecting questions shooting from every direction as everyone followed my instructions. Instead the women wanted to bargain with me for the price of things. They wanted to resell the things they bought to provide for their families. They wanted to put all of their money in the bank. They wanted to buy lots of sodas in case guests came over. I asked if, perhaps, it wasn’t better to buy rice? They wanted to change the rules. By the end of the first session, I was exhausted, fascinated, and uncertain how to proceed.

I started the discussion after the game, arguably the most important part. We started by paying back the loan. Then we calculated the profits of each group and counted how many hats they had made. I put them up on the board, and asked if they noticed anything. Silence.

So I went through each column and said, "This team made how many hats? … Good. How much profit did they make?"

One group was unable to repay their loan. They joked about buying too much soda and being sent to the Gendarmerie (police). But something was starting to whirl.

"She couldn’t pay her loan back because she didn’t put her money in her business," one woman said.

"Good, why is that?" Silence.

"Do you make profit on putting money in the bank?", I asked.

More women this time. "No. And you don’t make money on soda either." A jibe, but a good observation.

"Right. What did the winning team do? How many hats did they make?"

"They made the most hats. They spent their money on their business. They made a profit. Then they could pay their loan back. You have to spend money there first."

As the conversation became more and more participatory, my smile grew. All the smarts were there. There were just a few skills missing. I went home and slept on it. The puzzle was unraveling.

For the next two days we went over the jargon of Marketing. The discussions were engaged for the most part, though there were some concepts that just didn’t stick. I could tell I was putting some new ideas on the radar screen, but I wasn’t sure my ladies were going to walk out of here and suddenly start slashing prices and printing flyers. In fact I didn’t know what to expect out of my first Peace Corp training, but that’s what made the last day all the more rewarding.

We came together on that fourth morning, everyone tired but glad it was the last day. I set the game up. After the discussion, I told them, we would hand out diplomas. This time they were engaged. I sensed a distinct desire to play the game and to apply their new skills.

This time I had some new instructions to add into the game. First we went over the money. I held up each bill, one by one, and asked the women how much that bill was. We reviewed, then I asked about the rules of the market. Can you resell? Can you change how you design the hats? Very slowly we went through the rules and how to figure profits for each week. We did the math for buying materials and for selling finished products, and for calculating the difference. Lots of women participated, and then helped those who weren’t getting the right answers. They were encouraged by being included and shown. I stood at the board and asked – "What should I write down to calculate the profit between 180 and 120?" They told me. It wasn’t macro-economics. It was not in my job description. This was just simple subtraction. But it was something important. Now I understood. I knew why I was here.

The Peace Corps has not been easy. I get to see my family and friends for about three weeks out of 26 months. I had to leave everything and everyone I knew behind to spend months struggling with every minute of every day learning a new job and two new languages. When you agree to the Peace Corps odyssey, you don’t know where you’ll be living or what, exactly, you’ll be doing -- but as I have come to find out, that is certainly the gem of the experience. Before leaving New Hampshire I was mystified by all the other parts of the globe. It is fair to say I was idealistic and naïve. Arriving in Africa I was, at first, dangling from an open drawbridge over a cultural abyss. Nothing I had read or learned about the political and economic systems of the world had really prepared me for the world itself.

Now I’m different. I’ve learned an African language. I’ve become part of a family that looks nothing like me. I am the first sister my five Senegalese brothers ever had; I am the first professional woman most women and girls here have met. I eat out of a bowl with eleven other hands sitting on the floor. We talk. We learn. We trust one another. We share our dreams. In an age of clashing cultures and anger, I can’t think of a more powerful tool than personal contact or a better system than the Peace Corps. 

Copyright (c) 2006 Rebecca Perkins and SeacaostNH.com. All rights reserved.