Tubob: Two Years in West Africa with the Peace Corps

Mortars explode close to the house where 118 of us seek refuge. Crouching under a table with my boss, I wonder about returning to our village, our jobs, and to $2,500 buried in our chicken coop. My husband Bruce shields forbidden communication radios with his body. Our eyes lock, silently asking, "Whose idea was this, anyway?"

I can't remember a time when I didn't dream of going to Africa. A door opens through the Peace Corps. Bruce, my husband of just one year, and I respond to positions in...