As I was cleaning my room this morning, I found my Peace Corps patch that I received when I finished my Peace Corps service in Colombia. When I saw it, I froze. Standing there, I stared down at it. It’s the symbol of an organization that has had a huge impact on my life over the last 3 ½ years. The logo consists of an American flag, in which the stars ripple and are gently twisted until the final star looks like a dove. The flag reminded me of a conversation I had a few weeks ago:
During my last couple of months in Cartagena, I fell in love with the city. After trying to make friends for a year, I finally found a group of people that I could spend time with, enjoy, admire and learn from. We went out almost every day of the week. It was marvelous! One night, we went out dancing and finished the night in a neighborhood called Getsemani at a salsa bar with a dance floor. As we were leaving, we passed a parked-vehicle that had pictures of several flags on the back of it. I saw the American flag and reached out to touch it. In the exuberance of the moment, I think I murmured something like “Home!” My companions chuckled and we continued without on our way without comments.
It was a week later, when I was sitting talking to a friend, that he reminded me of that night. He said “Do you remember when we were walking and you saw the American flag and reached out to touch it?” I smiled, wondering if he was going to start teasing me about being a gringa. He continued, “That really impacted me. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that moment.” He looked away, searching for the words to express his thoughts. “Here, every time we see the American flag, it’s accompanied by images of the military. A symbol of imperialism. In the news, people in foreign countries are burning it. It’s always something negative.” Deep pause. “Never had I seen someone react positively to that flag. Then I saw you touch it. I saw your warmth for that symbol of your country and I realized that it’s not all about war and capitalism for you.”
I don’t know if he saw the tears come to my eyes. I don’t think they made it into my voice as I explained what the flag means to me. I know about the ugly side of American foreign policy. I studied it. I know the wars we have caused, directly and indirectly, while trying to protect our economic interests. It hurts me to think that my country has been one of the primary causes of so much suffering, especially in Latin America. Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Chile, Argentina, Colombia….
But for me, the flag doesn’t just represent the military and government interests abroad. It represents a place that has offered me such opportunities and such freedom. A country that while very imperfect still, for me, is a symbol of a remarkable faith in humanity.
