Marisol and Fernado, Jesus loving ¨smack down¨
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Working Hard or Hardly Working?
As the weeks march on January turns to February. It hasn’t been a productive work month. But rather a productive thinking and planning month. We’ve meet with the mayor about our water project. Juan did his best to translate for me, for a man who’s Spanish is a about as intelligible as the sound a crumpled paper bag makes. If I understood correctly, the project has been written into the municipality’s budget. I just need to start the PC paperwork for my end of the financing. Meanwhile we await an engineer who is coming late February to assess the project cost. Tengo mis dudas sobre todo. Patience.
I’ve made it clear to my co-workers, Maria, Pilar and Juan that I’m focusing on 3 large projects this year. The aforementioned water renovation, recruiting and training local health promoters and forming a new water committee. Sure other small things will come up. But these three projects are key to the development of Carata.
As for a department in general, PCV’s from La Libertad will be holding it’s first ever Camp ALMA (soul) this year. Camp ALMA began years ago when PCV’s decided to bring together a group of young females from their communities for a leadership retreat. The goal is twofold, to transform the girls into role models and upon their return home to work in their villages as agents of change. Ideally, they would maintain the sustainability of the camp by leading others into service, good will and civic involvement.
My health in general has been very good. Mentally and physically. I´m back into life in the mountains and really looking forward to a successful year. Change is so slow to happen, but the more we keep at it the better the future looks! Thank you to all my dependable readers. I´ve enjoyed maintaining this blog to chronicle my experience, but most of all to stay connected to the US in a major way. Un fuerte abrazo. Mateo
I’ve made it clear to my co-workers, Maria, Pilar and Juan that I’m focusing on 3 large projects this year. The aforementioned water renovation, recruiting and training local health promoters and forming a new water committee. Sure other small things will come up. But these three projects are key to the development of Carata.
As for a department in general, PCV’s from La Libertad will be holding it’s first ever Camp ALMA (soul) this year. Camp ALMA began years ago when PCV’s decided to bring together a group of young females from their communities for a leadership retreat. The goal is twofold, to transform the girls into role models and upon their return home to work in their villages as agents of change. Ideally, they would maintain the sustainability of the camp by leading others into service, good will and civic involvement.
My health in general has been very good. Mentally and physically. I´m back into life in the mountains and really looking forward to a successful year. Change is so slow to happen, but the more we keep at it the better the future looks! Thank you to all my dependable readers. I´ve enjoyed maintaining this blog to chronicle my experience, but most of all to stay connected to the US in a major way. Un fuerte abrazo. Mateo
i´m going home
Many of the students at JSRHS asked me if I felt what could be termed culture shock upon arrival in the USA. I explained how the biggest surprises were really quite minor that I knew all along but had just forgotten about like, the plethora of hot water, a variety of foods and comfortable transportation. I went on to say that personally, I felt a stronger transition back to US culture in 2003. I had been studying Spanish in Costa Rica for 6 months and came home to begin college courses in Boston. I remember vividly the first couple of days.
The tremdous height of American men and women. The fact that English dominated every street sign, billboard and radiated from crowds. The cereal isle at the grocery store easily contained 75 brands of cereal! I wondered, is it really necessary for us to have that much variety?Nevertheless, I reintegrated and began back at the university. This recent trip was a flawless integration as long as I could remember to throw toilet paper down the bowl instead of in the nearby trash can!
What I never anticipated would frighten me the most. Going back to Perú. Call it reverse-reverse culture shock. Just when I thought I had been through it all-a short trip to the US disrupted everything. I immediately felt it when driving from the airport in Lima to our self nominated Peace Corps hostal-INCA HAUS. I rode with another PCV, Jane who ironically was on the same flight. We drove through an intersection in a poor part of the city and I was shocked to see small children performing acrobatics between lanes at 11:45pm. Was this really happening? I looked farther into the desolate distance at piles of burning trash in abandoned lots. By the look on Jane face, she sat quietly, obviously not thinking about the extreme poverty surrounding us. Welcome back to Peace Corps…..
I stayed in Lima a mere 24 hours to go back to the dentist and have my crown checked. That night I met up with a friend from Lima for dinner, Arturo and he dropped me off at the bus terminal for Trujillo. Juan was kind enough to meet me at 730am that next morning. He helped me with my luggage (enough for the two of us) and we went straight to la rinconada. The families neighborhood. Everyone was excited to see me, all the extended family of Juan and Mena. I unpacked gifts and gave everyone a little something from the US. We talked about Christmas and New Years. They were in a hurry to go up to Carata and although I wasn´t ( I wanted to stay in Trujillo for at least 2 nights) I decided to go with them. Big mistake.
Who knew you were supposed to ease yourself into poverty?
That first night in Carata was unforgettable. I had definitely arrived too quickly to my community without preparing myself for the reality. A tremendous homesickness came over me. I couldn’t bare to unpack my luggage because everything I brought back reminded me of Jenni, Dad, Mom, and Holly. It was horrible. I felt like abandoning my community, this job, this country and quitting to be back at home again. Saturday was an emotional day, I tried to think of the positives- but every thought was connected to home. I decided that I didn’t want to leave Perú but I wasn’t ready to get back into work. I needed a vacation or at least a break.
You see, my whole trip home was so excellent it’s hard to forget it and move on. I describe it as if I built a hard shell this past year, placing all my memories and happiness in the back of my head as a coping mechanism to adapt and overcome the challenges here. After going home I broke out of that shell, exposed myself to friends and family by opening all those hidden feelings of love and sadness, and happiness and fear and came back to Perú without thinking twice.
I think some volunteers don’t go home during their service because it’s just too hard to leave and come back.
The next 48 hours crawled by. My senses were awakened to new feelings. I smelled the familiar rain for the first time, and watched the thick fog hug the small village with new eyes. The smell of smoke that seeped through the red ceramic shingles permeated my clothes. The cackling of our neighbor´s donkey echoed into the night. The skyline of green mountains perfectly cut into rectangles glistened through the suns morning rays. This was the Carata I had forgotten, these small details of a tiny community at work.
A rush of emotions, thoughts and realities surged through my veins as I moved through the instinctual daily motions.
The California garden! Mud. The band plays. Rain. I’m not dancing. Sunshine. A pig grunts. Kids greet me. My phone, why did I leave it in Lima? Hola Cucha, How´s the fam? The unsightly trash. Our broken staircase. The key. Benito. Dogs barking. No water, again? Clear skies. My vitamins. What a sunset. Potato soup with symone. A heaping plate of white rice. One week. Where are the spices I brought back? A cold draft moves in. Comfortable, comforting bed. Camp Alma. Ann’s gone. Everythings green now. It’s a cold morning. More bread, please. 40º. 10,500 ft. I need to buy some more Listerine. Health post. Ya vengo. Maria and Pilar. Quality vs. Quantity. Last year. MINSA. ¿Como como como? No phone. The voicemail better be fixed. One week. Agua Potable. Health promoters. Water committee. New boots. Old boots. Alipio Bacilio. Smiles. Jeans. They each take turns. Jealously. T-shirts. His sons. ¿Cuanto costó? One week. Emily’s gone. Moldy rooms. Mi cuerpo no esta hecho de Madera. Chicki’s bouncing welcome. Cold shower. Vollyball. Uno. Play. Contra. We’re a good team. Flannel sheets. Agua cero. Water’s back. Lights out. 6 days later. It’s 7:30. Dinner time. La viuda de Blanco. Perú campeón. Lorca. Mana. Dina Pauker. A good novel. I forgot to floss. My bacín. One week. This would taste so much better with peanut butter. Iquitos. Holly’s visit. Huachos. Encuestas. Mr. Mayor. I can’t understand you. Jenni’s birthday. Rain drops on the tin roof. Don’t slip. Player 1. Ga-me over. More gifts. Boy cries. Donated toothbrushes and toothpaste. Meet Alex. Hop Scotch. Home made cookies. Should I coach volleyball? Washing clothes. Rent’s due. Fake like the foods great. How are Khaliah and Isaac? The door squeaks close. New wool socks. I should sweep the balcony. Make a grocery list. La hora de bajar. One week.
Late one of these past nights in January, I wrote a journal entry to myself.
“There’s something about this place that’s keeping me here. Unfinished work. There’s still too much to do. I cannot abandon this village. They have been abandoned by too many others. And so I began working again-differently this year. With specific goals in mind. I’ll try to be better to myself and not allow things/people to upset me. I have three resolutions. 1. Save more money. 2. Exercise daily. 3. Improve my Spanish.”
The tremdous height of American men and women. The fact that English dominated every street sign, billboard and radiated from crowds. The cereal isle at the grocery store easily contained 75 brands of cereal! I wondered, is it really necessary for us to have that much variety?Nevertheless, I reintegrated and began back at the university. This recent trip was a flawless integration as long as I could remember to throw toilet paper down the bowl instead of in the nearby trash can!
What I never anticipated would frighten me the most. Going back to Perú. Call it reverse-reverse culture shock. Just when I thought I had been through it all-a short trip to the US disrupted everything. I immediately felt it when driving from the airport in Lima to our self nominated Peace Corps hostal-INCA HAUS. I rode with another PCV, Jane who ironically was on the same flight. We drove through an intersection in a poor part of the city and I was shocked to see small children performing acrobatics between lanes at 11:45pm. Was this really happening? I looked farther into the desolate distance at piles of burning trash in abandoned lots. By the look on Jane face, she sat quietly, obviously not thinking about the extreme poverty surrounding us. Welcome back to Peace Corps…..
I stayed in Lima a mere 24 hours to go back to the dentist and have my crown checked. That night I met up with a friend from Lima for dinner, Arturo and he dropped me off at the bus terminal for Trujillo. Juan was kind enough to meet me at 730am that next morning. He helped me with my luggage (enough for the two of us) and we went straight to la rinconada. The families neighborhood. Everyone was excited to see me, all the extended family of Juan and Mena. I unpacked gifts and gave everyone a little something from the US. We talked about Christmas and New Years. They were in a hurry to go up to Carata and although I wasn´t ( I wanted to stay in Trujillo for at least 2 nights) I decided to go with them. Big mistake.
Who knew you were supposed to ease yourself into poverty?
That first night in Carata was unforgettable. I had definitely arrived too quickly to my community without preparing myself for the reality. A tremendous homesickness came over me. I couldn’t bare to unpack my luggage because everything I brought back reminded me of Jenni, Dad, Mom, and Holly. It was horrible. I felt like abandoning my community, this job, this country and quitting to be back at home again. Saturday was an emotional day, I tried to think of the positives- but every thought was connected to home. I decided that I didn’t want to leave Perú but I wasn’t ready to get back into work. I needed a vacation or at least a break.
You see, my whole trip home was so excellent it’s hard to forget it and move on. I describe it as if I built a hard shell this past year, placing all my memories and happiness in the back of my head as a coping mechanism to adapt and overcome the challenges here. After going home I broke out of that shell, exposed myself to friends and family by opening all those hidden feelings of love and sadness, and happiness and fear and came back to Perú without thinking twice.
I think some volunteers don’t go home during their service because it’s just too hard to leave and come back.
The next 48 hours crawled by. My senses were awakened to new feelings. I smelled the familiar rain for the first time, and watched the thick fog hug the small village with new eyes. The smell of smoke that seeped through the red ceramic shingles permeated my clothes. The cackling of our neighbor´s donkey echoed into the night. The skyline of green mountains perfectly cut into rectangles glistened through the suns morning rays. This was the Carata I had forgotten, these small details of a tiny community at work.
A rush of emotions, thoughts and realities surged through my veins as I moved through the instinctual daily motions.
The California garden! Mud. The band plays. Rain. I’m not dancing. Sunshine. A pig grunts. Kids greet me. My phone, why did I leave it in Lima? Hola Cucha, How´s the fam? The unsightly trash. Our broken staircase. The key. Benito. Dogs barking. No water, again? Clear skies. My vitamins. What a sunset. Potato soup with symone. A heaping plate of white rice. One week. Where are the spices I brought back? A cold draft moves in. Comfortable, comforting bed. Camp Alma. Ann’s gone. Everythings green now. It’s a cold morning. More bread, please. 40º. 10,500 ft. I need to buy some more Listerine. Health post. Ya vengo. Maria and Pilar. Quality vs. Quantity. Last year. MINSA. ¿Como como como? No phone. The voicemail better be fixed. One week. Agua Potable. Health promoters. Water committee. New boots. Old boots. Alipio Bacilio. Smiles. Jeans. They each take turns. Jealously. T-shirts. His sons. ¿Cuanto costó? One week. Emily’s gone. Moldy rooms. Mi cuerpo no esta hecho de Madera. Chicki’s bouncing welcome. Cold shower. Vollyball. Uno. Play. Contra. We’re a good team. Flannel sheets. Agua cero. Water’s back. Lights out. 6 days later. It’s 7:30. Dinner time. La viuda de Blanco. Perú campeón. Lorca. Mana. Dina Pauker. A good novel. I forgot to floss. My bacín. One week. This would taste so much better with peanut butter. Iquitos. Holly’s visit. Huachos. Encuestas. Mr. Mayor. I can’t understand you. Jenni’s birthday. Rain drops on the tin roof. Don’t slip. Player 1. Ga-me over. More gifts. Boy cries. Donated toothbrushes and toothpaste. Meet Alex. Hop Scotch. Home made cookies. Should I coach volleyball? Washing clothes. Rent’s due. Fake like the foods great. How are Khaliah and Isaac? The door squeaks close. New wool socks. I should sweep the balcony. Make a grocery list. La hora de bajar. One week.
Late one of these past nights in January, I wrote a journal entry to myself.
“There’s something about this place that’s keeping me here. Unfinished work. There’s still too much to do. I cannot abandon this village. They have been abandoned by too many others. And so I began working again-differently this year. With specific goals in mind. I’ll try to be better to myself and not allow things/people to upset me. I have three resolutions. 1. Save more money. 2. Exercise daily. 3. Improve my Spanish.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
