In this interview, you’ll hear from Angel Torres, a Peace Corps Health volunteer in Guinea. Angel shares what daily life looks like, the work being done, and how service has shaped their personal and professional growth. You’ll learn about housing, cultural differences, project work, language learning, and what it’s like to live and work in a new country. This interview offers a real look into Peace Corps service and what future volunteers can expect.
Table of Contents
- Volunteer Experience and Motivation
- Living Arrangements and Cultural Integration
- Surprises and Challenges
- Advice and Support
- Practical Tips and Language Learning
- Social Identity
- Impact of Media and Final Thoughts
Volunteer Experience and Motivation
What do you do as a Peace Corps Health volunteer in Guinea?
Serving as a Health Educator in Guinea
I serve as a Maternal, Child, and Adolescent Health Educator in a rural community of about 18,000 people in Mamou, Guinea. I always start by saying: I’m not a doctor. I don’t diagnose, prescribe, or perform medical procedures. My job is about education, capacity building, and system strengthening, helping communities take ownership of their health in ways that last beyond my service.
The Peace Corps frames our role as “co-facilitators,” and that really sums it up. We do not arrive with a clipboard and a checklist. We arrive with open ears, learning the language, building trust, and walking beside local health workers. Together we lead community needs assessments, design and co-facilitate health sensitizations on family planning, safe pregnancy, nutrition, infant latching, malaria, general hygiene, and STI awareness, and we support youth development through girls’ and boys’ clubs. Some days, I am in family compounds or mosques with parents and caregivers. Other days, I am in classrooms, football fields, or markets, weaving health education into everyday life.
From Listening to Action
When the listening turns into a plan, the work becomes follow-through. With counterparts, we track a few key indicators, strengthen clinic routines, monitor and report health outcomes, and run practical trainings for healthcare workers so care is consistent and safe for patients.
During campaigns, that same partnership carries us into the field. Teams hike twelve to fourteen hours a day for five or six days to reach families in remote villages. We push through mud, swollen rivers, and long footpaths because prevention cannot wait. Malaria, polio, and malnutrition do not pause for convenience. In some seasons, especially during the rainy season when mosquito activity spikes, my days at the health center run from 7 a.m. until well past 10 p.m.
Building Sustainable Change
Beyond direct health education, I’ve helped support infrastructure development. With my community, we secured a $50,000 grant through ANAFIC and the Peace Corps for a multi-phase maternal and child health initiative. Out of that came a fully functioning health center with a labor and delivery ward, a postpartum recovery room for women, a new pharmacy, and a 24/7 water well.
That project was years in the making, requiring community buy-in, ministry approval, and countless late nights. The result is profound: families now have a place where mothers can give birth safely, children can be treated locally, and emergencies like motorcycle accidents or severe malaria can be managed without a desperate trip over hours of rough roads.
Finding Balance and Gratitude
The truth is, no day here is predictable. One morning, I might be checking patients into our health center. Another day, I’m shoulder to shoulder with nurses in a training workshop. On others, I’m ankle-deep in mud, carrying vaccine coolers through the mountains. The work stretches me to my limits, but it also grounds me. It has shown me that sustainability is not just about buildings or projects. It is about trust, persistence, and showing up day after day, even when it is hard.
And, of course, life isn’t only about work. Some days are laundry days. Some are river days, swimming, and laughing with friends. Living in Guinea has taught me to balance the grit with gratitude. People say the Peace Corps is “the hardest job you’ll ever love.” I feel that in my bones. It is hard. It is beautiful. And it has changed the way I see the world and myself forever.
Why did you decide to join the Peace Corps and serve in Guinea?
I’ve worked my whole life, always grinding, always chasing the next thing. I balanced full-time work with full-time school, and by the time I graduated, I had built a competitive résumé, worked on projects I was proud of, and lined up opportunities most people would call “the path forward.” In that moment, it became clear that I didn’t just want to succeed within systems. I wanted to contribute to something greater than my own career trajectory. That’s when I started looking into the Peace Corps.
When I applied, I selected open placement. My thinking was simple: here is my background, here is my experience, send me where I can be most useful. A few weeks later, I received the email:
“Dear Angel, congratulations! You are invited to serve as a Maternal, Child, and Adolescent Health Educator in Guinea. Departure Date: December 13, 2023.”
I felt a mix of honor and responsibility. I had never imagined serving in West Africa or with the Peace Corps. I knew the learning curve would be steep, and while I didn’t have deep prior knowledge of Guinea, I made it a point to learn everything I could before arriving: the history, the language, the culture, the role.
Looking back, every major decision I’ve made has been shaped by a belief in growth, both my own and that of the communities I’ve been part of. I’m always curious about how people grow, adapt, and make meaning across systems. I’ve kept moving forward not because I’ve had it all figured out, but because I’m committed to learning.
Living Arrangements and Cultural Integration
What is your housing like in Guinea?
Host Family
Very rural. I live in the Fouta Djallon mountains of Guinea, in a small unit next to my host father and his large family. There is no running water or electricity. Instead, our water comes from community wells scattered throughout the village, and the rhythm of life is set by sunrise and sunset. We are about five hours from the nearest city by car, though for most people, that trip is not practical because of the cost. That remoteness shapes everything, from healthcare access to food availability.
Fruits and Vegetables
Farming is at the heart of life here. Vegetables and fruit are seasonal, so what you eat depends on what the land is offering at that moment. Some months, guavas, mangos, and starfruit are everywhere. Other months, it is avocados, pineapples, or wild plants that can be brewed into tea. The people here also grow corn, taro, carrots, and countless other crops that sustain families throughout the year. The biodiversity is incredible. Nature provides in ways that remind me every day how much hard work and patience go into survival and abundance.
Wildlife
The wildlife is equally unforgettable. I am not far from the Bafing River, which runs through Guinea, Mali, and Senegal before joining the Senegal River. Along its banks, I have been fortunate enough to see monkeys and even hippos in their natural habitat. Moments like that remind me that I am living in a place where the environment is alive and untamed, and it gives me a sense of awe that I will carry forever.
In short, my house in Guinea is not just about the four walls I live in. It is about being folded into a family, about living by the cycles of farming and rain, about drawing water from wells and cooking over fire. It is simple, it is demanding, and it is beautiful. It has taught me to live more intentionally, to see abundance in what is seasonal and shared, and to find comfort in community rather than convenience.
What moments or interactions stand out during your service?
One moment I will never forget was being invited by a family to be present at their home birth alongside our health center’s sage-femme. For cultural and religious reasons, some women choose to deliver at home. We encourage facility deliveries, and the midwife only agrees when a case appears low risk and referral is not indicated. She led everything. My role was nonclinical support only.
Watching those parents welcome their third child was tender beyond words. I have shadowed births in the United States and in Mexico, but it felt different when a family invited me into their home and, years later, brought that same child to visit me in mine. Holding that toddler two years later made the circle of trust feel complete. It reminded me that this work is about safety, dignity, and meeting people where they are.
Surprises and Challenges
What has surprised you most about living or working in Guinea?
The surprise is how much “we” matters here. Progress here happens because people carry it together. A problem is not handed to a hero. It is shared like water at the well. News moves by footsteps. Decisions are made in circles. A clinic day works because the midwife, the elder, the teacher, the youth, and the neighbor each bring what they have.
Hope is a group project. Faith runs through the rhythm of it all. Gratitude at dawn. Mercy at dusk. People give from what is small and make it enough.
In a world that often shouts “I,” Guinea keeps choosing “we,” and the choice is quiet, steady, and strong
What challenges have you faced in your Health work, and how did you respond?
There are a lot of challenges in health work here, some practical, some cultural, and some deeply personal. Practically speaking, access is shaped by geography and seasons. My community is about four hours from the nearest paved road, so getting medicine, equipment, or emergency transport takes planning. Roads wash out in the rain. Vehicles and fuel are expensive. Paperwork and procurement take time because partners are serving many communities at once. We adapted by starting earlier, staging materials, sharing transport when possible, and keeping close, respectful communication with local leaders and health officials so we could solve problems together.
Physically, the work can take a real toll, but every step reminds me of the families and children who are counting on us. What humbles me most is knowing this is daily life for the people I serve. That perspective keeps me going.
Culturally, some health topics are considered taboo. Conversations can be difficult to start, especially across generations, but I have learned that the way through is patience. What once felt impossible has become one of the most meaningful conversations of my service.
Personally, I would not have made it through without the people around me. My community grounds me, and so does the Peace Corps staff in Guinea. From my country director and program managers to monitoring and evaluation and language teams, I have never felt so supported. Their commitment is a big part of what makes the Peace Corps, Peace Corps. It is one of a kind and a model any industry could learn from.
What secondary projects have you worked on during your service?
One of my favorite parts of service has been the chance to take on secondary projects outside of my primary health work. For me, a lot of that has focused on language and education.
Teaching English
I teach English to students in grades 7 through 10, which has been both challenging and rewarding. English opens doors for students in Guinea, whether for higher education, job opportunities, or simply connecting to a wider world. At first, it was overwhelming to stand in front of a classroom of 30 or 40 students, all full of energy and curiosity. With time, I have seen their excitement grow as they practice new words, read independently, write sentences or full paragraphs based on their level, and even sing along to a song in English. It is a privilege to be part of that journey.
Youth Clubs
Outside the classroom, I lead youth clubs focused on personal development, life skills, and leadership. We do confidence exercises, goal setting, and public speaking. We even use music and dance as icebreakers. Movement lowers the pressure, builds community, and gets even the quiet students participating. Some days, that looks like a quick Jarabe Tapatío step from me, a local dance from them, or the latest viral TikTok. It is joy, and it works.
Digital Literacy
Another area I care about is digital literacy. I introduce community members and health workers to basic computer skills like Microsoft Word, Excel, creating PDFs, and simple graphics in Paint. In a village where many people have never used a computer, learning to type a CV or format a letter is transformative.
Resume Building & Career Preparation
That has led naturally to resume building and career preparation. We run workshops on writing CVs, drafting cover letters, and practicing interviews. Students leave with a one-page CV in English and French, a basic email address, and a plan for their next steps. I also pair older students with younger ones as peer tutors, which keeps the learning going when I am not in the room.
Secondary projects are where service stretches you. They let you bring all parts of yourself to the table. For me, that has meant language, teaching, mentorship, and a little bit of dance and music. The goal is always the same: build skills that last and hand them back to the community so the work continues long after I am gone.
Advice and Support
What advice would you give to future Health volunteers in Guinea?
There are so many things I want to say, so I will go with what feels most present. The sky is the limit here, and every barrier is one hurdle closer to a yes.
- Trust the Peace Corps team and be transparent, because staff truly want you to thrive during service and after.
- Make integration your first project: greet everyone, drink tea, learn names, sit, listen, and learn before you try to lead or offer support.
- Language will change your service, so study every day, even for 15 minutes, and do not fear mistakes.
- Relationships come before results, especially with sensitive health topics, so move slowly and celebrate small wins.
- Map stakeholders early, treat your community needs assessment like a North Star, and set two or three SMART objectives you can actually measure.
- Keep VRG and MRE notes weekly so you are not scrambling at IST, MST, or COS.
- Start grants early, build a buffer for approvals and procurement, and stage materials ahead of the rainy season.
- For campaigns, make micro-plans: routes, roles, stock counts, cold-chain checks, and a same-day debrief.
- Translate job aids and reports into French and the local language, teach with what you have, and share simple data back with counterparts so the community can choose next steps.
- Build people, not dependence.
- Document from day one.
- Remember, eyes are on you, so model what you teach: eat well, hydrate, rest, and pace your work with the seasons.
- Honor culture by dressing respectfully, learning etiquette, and leading with humility.
- Live fully by saying yes to invitations, shelling peanuts, dancing at celebrations, or swimming on river days.
Joy is part of public health here. Connection is not extra. It is how the work lasts. Above all, push through the tough moments, stay teachable, and keep showing up. Guinea will meet you with grace.
How did Peace Corps training prepare you for service?
Training met me where I was. Pre-Service Training gave me the foundation to live and work in Guinea: daily language classes, technical health sessions, safety and security, and lots of real-life practice with a host family. You learn to greet, shop, travel, and co-plan with counterparts, and you are expected to meet a language benchmark before swearing in, which pushed me to build real conversational skills rather than just memorize phrases. In Guinea, PST is anchored in site realities, so technical visits and hands-on practice match the life you will live at your post.
In-Service Training comes a few months into service and is short but powerful. You pause, problem-solve with staff and peers, sharpen technical tools, and realign with your counterpart so the next phase of work is tighter. It is typically a 2 to 5-day tune-up shaped by what you are actually seeing on the ground.
Mid-Service Training hits around the halfway mark. It is a reset and a recharge, with space to reflect on wins and misses, update project plans, and recommit to language and wellbeing so you finish strong.
Finally, Peace Corps training is not only about surviving service. It builds the exact skills the modern workplace values: cross-cultural communication, navigating ambiguity, problem-solving, facilitation, and the discipline to learn continuously. That has matched my experience across industries before the Peace Corps and now in Guinea, and it is why the training model feels so transferable long after service ends.
Practical Tips and Language Learning
What would you tell future volunteers to pack—or leave behind?
It is personal, and what matters most will be different for each of us. I recommend asking RPCVs or current Volunteers, since you will get a wide range of answers. I arrived with way too much, and most of it is not coming home with me.
What to Pack
- The things that truly carried me were simple: a small, sturdy rechargeable lamp that lasts 48 to 72 hours, a few printed photos and keepsakes to make my room feel like home, and yes, my comfort teddy bear.
- E-readers are gold, and if you want a solar setup, you can bring one or buy one in-country.
- Peace Corps Guinea provided a work tablet, which covered most of my tech needs.
- Clothing is easy to sort out locally and usually more affordable, especially secondhand, so do not overpack outfits.
- What I recommend bringing is light and practical: an unlocked phone, a universal adapter, a reliable power bank, a headlamp, a quick-dry towel, sturdy shoes, maybe one or two favorite outfits, and one or two small comforts like your favorite tea, candy, or seasoning.
- Optional extras that help are a small surge protector and a handful of zip bags for organizing.
Leave Behind
What I would leave behind are heavy books, lots of clothes you will not wear, expensive jewelry, sentimental items you cannot risk losing, and more electronics than you can realistically charge. Most needs can be met in-country if you give it time and ask around. You may even find you never needed the extras at all. In the end, the most important thing you bring is yourself.
How has language learning been for you in Guinea?
Fairly smooth and very humbling. Spanish is my first language, so French came more naturally because of the similarities. PST pushed me past memorized phrases into real conversation, and the real growth began at site.
Every day in Guinea is a language lesson if you let it be: greetings on the path, prices at the market, tea by lantern, clinic chats with counterparts. I keep a small notebook in my pocket and jot down greetings, kinship terms, and health words as I hear them. I ask for corrections, I laugh at my mistakes, and people love seeing me try.
Pular has been the biggest gift of all. Learning its rhythm and proverbs opened doors that would have stayed closed and turned neighbors into family. Language changed my service. It made sensitive health conversations possible and deepened the trust that makes the work last. You will always be learning, and that is the gift.
Social Identity
How has your personal identity shaped your service experience?
I grew up in Sacramento, a very multicultural city, so I came in with a people-first mindset and a learner’s posture. In the United States, identity markers like race and ethnicity can shape how people see you. In Guinea, those categories map differently. I am Mexican American, and most days, people guess I am white or Asian. I meet that curiosity with humor and warmth. It becomes a doorway to share my family’s story, talk about Mexico, teach a few Spanish words, and listen to stories from here. Kids love my name, and the aunties love to braid my hair, which turns into long conversations and a lot of laughter.
As an American guest, you may occasionally be invited into spaces where your gender is not typically expected. Treat that invitation as a privilege, not a given. In those moments, I accept guidance from Peace Corps staff and community leaders, and I use any access to support rather than replace the people already trusted in those spaces.
There are parts of my identity I share slowly and safely, and others I keep to myself. That depends on trust and context. What I have found is that kindness, consistency, language, and humility do most of the talking. Identity has not been a barrier so much as a bridge. It opens moments of exchange where we learn about each other and find common ground. That is the beauty of the Peace Corps for me.
Did your identity lead to specific challenges or situations?
Occasionally, yes, and I do not think it has been about Guinea so much as about being a guest and learning new norms. People are curious about who I am and where I am from. It can be easy to meet that with skepticism. I try to meet curiosity with humor and warmth, share what feels appropriate, and keep a few details private. Boundaries help. When it is necessary, I answer personal questions simply, redirect to community topics, and share more only as trust grows. If a conversation feels uncomfortable, I shift to a group setting, loop in a counterpart, or step away and follow up later. Peace Corps staff are always a steady support, and I reach out when I need guidance.
Appearance has sparked its own conversations. My long hair and facial hair are not always typical for men in some settings here, so people ask questions. I keep it respectful and practical. In clinics, schools, or prayer spaces, I tie my hair back and cover it when appropriate. I keep my facial hair neat and ask a local leader what is appropriate if I have any doubt. The goal is to honor the space and keep the focus on the work.
A beautiful surprise has been the ripple effect of showing up respectfully as myself. When people see kindness, consistency, and language at the center, it can give others permission to be themselves, too. Small things like hair or style become light conversations that lead to a real connection. Most, if not all, situations have turned into learning rather than conflict, and that has felt freeing. I feel more confident and empowered now than ever, and I hope they do too. Of course, this is region and context-specific, so if you ever have doubts, consult Peace Corps staff.
What advice do you have for volunteers who share your identity?
You belong here. Peace Corps welcomes the full spectrum of who we are, and the staff in Guinea carries decades of wisdom to help you serve well and stay safe. Lead with your humanity and a learner’s posture. Let language, consistency, and kindness speak first.
Share parts of your identity on your own timeline and with people you trust. Maintain a safety plan, and remember that any guidance you receive is about care and protection, not limitation. Set kind boundaries, travel with a buddy when you can, and use your counterpart as a cultural compass. Find mentors, including RPCVs who share your identity, and give yourself permission to rest whenever you need it. There may be moments when you adapt or choose not to disclose something. That is not hiding. That is wisdom. The gift is that your presence can become a bridge. Serve with humility, courage, and joy, and know there is room for you in this work.
Impact of Media and Final Thoughts
If you share content online, how has that shaped your service?
Posting on LinkedIn
I share mostly on LinkedIn, and I use it as a platform to share insights thoughtfully. Posting has helped me slow down, reflect, and mark moments that I believe add meaning to certain spaces. It keeps me accountable to the principles I stand for, and it lets my family, friends, colleagues, and mentors see the real rhythm of service. I never wanted it to be about attention. My quiet hope was always simple: if one stranger read a post and decided to explore the Peace Corps, that would be enough.
When to Post and Not to Post
I am also careful. Before I share, I ask myself a few questions: Does this honor my community? Would I say this in front of the person pictured? Do I have consent? Does this teach or invite rather than perform? Would I be comfortable if this post were about me? If the answer is no, I do not post. I avoid clinics, private moments, and anything that could expose someone’s health information or pain. I try to spotlight local partners, give credit, translate quotes with permission, and keep the focus on community leadership rather than on me. Many memories stay offline and live in my journal instead.
Share What is True, Useful, and Kind.
Content has shaped my service by opening conversations. People message me with questions about Guinea, Pular, health projects, or how to apply. Sharing has also kept me honest about the tension I feel around “good deeds online.” My way through is intent and consent. Share what is true, useful, and kind. Protect dignity. Let the work and the people lead the story.
If you are a future Volunteer who plans to post, here is what helped me: Share slowly at first. Stay informed about policy and local norms. Center consent and context. Celebrate small wins. When in doubt, choose privacy. The goal is not to go viral. The goal is to serve well and let your words be an invitation to a life of service that is bigger than a screen.
What final advice would you share with future volunteers?
This is a great question, and it leads me to something I will never forget. Right before I boarded the plane in D.C. to head to Guinea, an RPCV looked me in the eye and said, “You know you’re never going to be the same after this, right?” I looked at her, a little confused and anxious, and asked what she meant. She simply said, “Don’t worry too much. It means great things. Surrender to the work and let life do the rest.”
She was right. The Peace Corps has been one of the greatest blessings of my life. I may never experience something like this again, and I wouldn’t change a thing about my service.
To the Peace Corps staff in Guinea, thank you. There will never be enough words to express my love and gratitude for you. Your patience, wisdom, and care made this experience better than I could have ever possibly imagined.
To my beloved Guineans, you are an integral part of the blueprint for a better world. We all have so much to learn from you.
My advice to future Volunteers is simple:
- Say yes to tea. Learn names. Learn the language.
- Show up when it’s hard, and rest when you need to.
- Be curious. Be kind. Ask permission. Share credit.
- Keep notes. Celebrate small wins. Drink water.
- Sleep under your mosquito net. Call home. Laugh often.
- Trust your counterpart. Trust the process. Trust the person you are becoming.
- Take a breath, and keep going.
- Service unfolds at the speed of trust, and every honest step arrives right on time.
- Go where your feet are welcome. Be where your hands are useful.
- Bring your whole heart, and let service change it.
- Guinea will meet you with grace.
The Peace Corps will change you forever.
Are you thinking about joining the Peace Corps? If you’re curious about service and ready for something new, apply today. Like Angel, you can live abroad, work with communities, and grow in ways you didn’t expect. Apply to the Peace Corps and take the next step.
The content of this post does not necessarily reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or Guinea Government.
