Hollywouldn´t

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a bit of a movie-phile. Virtually useless, I have a knack for recognizing faces of actors (“oh… that guy!”), knowing who directed what (“that line is classic Terentino”), and remembering and repeating quotes (“And like, we’re expected to swoon? I don’t think so…”). This, uh, “talent” has certainly been nurtured by my family’s equivalent love of film: my father’s massive (maybe too massive) collection of DVDs, our nights of playing charades, my sister Bryn’s perfect recital of Marissa Tomei’s soliloquy from My Cousin Vinny (“Imagine you’re a deer…”), and our unswerving annual watching of the Academy Awards (an event I approach as most men do the Superbowl).
So I guess it’s a no brainer that giving up American movies has been one of the most challenging sacrifices of living in this country. Well, I wouldn’t say all American movies, I still get to see quite a bit as they trickle down and are aired on basic cable here, dubbed in Spanish, cut, and with commercials. And whether this movie will be tolerable or not has many determining factors that make the outcome really a crap shoot. I should precede this by explaining that most of the movies they do show here are either kitty films, raunchy comedies, or stupid action flicks (I didn’t think my hate for Steven Segal could grow so large). So at best, there’s a slim change that a serious film, a sad and slow drama, or a big Oscar winner will make its way through.
Still, I have certainly enjoyed some of these films, despite being dubbed over. I watched Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (admittedly with my family) and loved it, I saw Kung Pow Enter the Fist and laughed my culo off (granted I haven’t seen it is English yet…. but now really want to). Other films, most of which I’ve already seen and anticipate good scenes, or a certain delivery of a line, do not fare as well. The Shawshank Redemption aired, I was pumped (a good drama!), and then bitterly disappointed as I heard the sound of Morgan Freeman’s voice dubbed in high pitched Spanish. I couldn’t keep watching… nobody can pontificate like Morgan, the man could describe child-birth in detail and I’d still feel soothed.
And, as much as I love them, I’ve discovered the added challenge of watching movies with my family etcetera here. In all of Los Cims, there are probably only 10 TVs, and we’ve got one of them. We’re popular, plenty of people come over regularly to take advantage of our boob-tube. And I guess in this country there don’t exist the qualms of talking over a movie. Not only do they question the plot as it progresses: Mari is the particularly guilty one… MARI: “Who is she? What is she doing? What will happen next?” ME: “Well let’s find out… shall we!?!” But they also seem to describe what’s happening as it’s happening, as if we haven’t been watching… MARI: “Oh, he’s mailing the letter to her to tell her how he really feels.” ME: “You don’t say!?!”
From all of this, I don’t tend to expect very much from movie anymore, and consequently yearn for the old days of yore. Sure, I have some of my own flicks that I watch on my laptop. But no one to share them with (laughing alone isn’t the same), no one who gets excited and wants to talk about them (“Come on… agree with me about that performance!”), no one to challenge with movie trivia (“Where have I seen that actor before…”). And, my dearest Chelsea, how I miss our ritual of webbing actors by common movies (“Okay… Miley Cyrus and Tony Curtis… GO!”).
But… it’s also something to look forward to when I get back. I have no idea who’s going to be up for the Oscars this year (although, I did buy a bootleg copy of Inglorious Bastards and think the actor who played Landau deserves a nod) but that doesn’t mean I can’t view the films later.
Funny, isn’t it? The things you’d thought you’d miss now don’t even notice are gone, and the things you don’t imagine you’ll miss end up being what you pine for.
I realize that some of my blogs don’t exactly detail the “What’s up with Laura?” as some of you might ask. But I also have fun sharing the curious quirks of this place instead of listing my agenda. It’s a method of complaining really, and we all know that I’m fabulous at that.
But, dutifully, I’ll mention that projects has almost all but come to a halt as no one works over the holidays, and that my first Christmas ever away from home felt nothing like Christmas at all. I didn’t expect gift exchange, how could they afford it? In its place I found that Salvadorans celebrate Christmas Eve more than Christmas by drinking (primarily only men), staying up late, and lighting millions of hand-held fireworks. I lit a few myself, and yes they are fun, but they sure do get annoying fast as the kids continue to throw 8,000 cherry bombs in the air until 4 o’clock in the morning. For more reasons than one, I sure did find myself missing my family and friends and Christmas at home with them.
One very nice moment was when I gave presents to Sulma, Jesica, and Mari. My mom generously sent presents for them, mostly touristy San Diego memorabilia that they went crazy for; and I got them a few presents of my own (a sharp knife for one, we’ve been using a dull switch-blade with no handle). It wasn’t too much, but they were overwhelmed. Completely excited and thankful and touched. Mari started saying how she’ll miss me after I’ve gone, especially in times like these (choke!). Seeing how much they enjoyed these modest gifts touched somewhere deep; and I knew a little moment like this makes the forfeit of good films well worth it.


I don´t know, I just thought it looked cool.

Sulma (left) and Jesica jointly lighting their Sparklers.

Papusa, my puppy cozying with Charipa, her mom. Papusa died December 26th of a stomach bug. I was pretty sad, she was only four months old. And even though I tried soothing her and getting her to eat and drink, she wouldn´t. But, I also knew the potential for this was fairly high, so I hadn´t gotten too attached. What a shame.

Picking Up Some Pictures...

Here are the promised pictures of our awesome mural mundial. I told everyone that I wanted to take silly pictures, which is certainly a new concept for them. But they graciously partook.

This is Arnoldo, he was by far the most proactive and helpful worker in this project. His excitement however, is more reserved.

I put in probably 60 or more hours of work in the project... it was tiring.

Arnoldo and I exibiting our respective nations´ pride. He´s utterly amazed at the enormity of the US.

That´s right, ya estuvo.... it´s finished finally.

Jesica buscando the list for where Italy might be on the map.

Sulma found it!

The map entire.... aaaaaah, at last.

Picking Up....?

Nine and a half months… Chelsea could have had the first of her vengeful babies by now. Nine and a half months and I still feel like a newbie. As far as projects I’ve done… heh, if they can even qualify as being called projects. They’ve not been many and aren’t making much of a splash. I taught a group of women how to make shampoo using aloe leaves for a new source of income, but none of them wanted to continue making it afterward. I had a gigantic recycling collection/competition that really was very successful (the kids gathered 1000s of bottles), but within 2 weeks of the competition being over the streets were filled again with bottles and cans. I’ve done quite a few charlas (health talks) to groups of mainly women, the effects of which are hard to measure and paltry (I gave one to women about cervical cancer and the pap-smear that went seemingly well to probably 45 women, 2 of whom have actually done there pap-smear since). I’ve taught English to kids who still don’t know what “to be” means. The point being… the starter projects aren’t much, are slow, and their success is questionable.
But I don’t want you to think that I’m just despondently complaining (is my tone whiny?). I knew the pace of things would be slow and was expecting this. Truth is, I wanted to try a few different things to see what would work and what wouldn’t and to see if it would shed light on where I want to put greater focus. I want to feel secure in how things work before I try something big. And this implies… another part of this process: a lot of waiting. Waiting for the right time, the right project, the right opportunity; and when this is said and done: waiting for the project to actually happen. I’ve applied to NGOs and other organizations to fund some projects, but of course the response is slow and you just have to keep on waiting.
I’m getting really good at waiting though. Cockiness aside, I really am an excellent waiter. I think my living situation has a lot to do with that. For instance the other day, I had to go down to Gotera to run some errands. There’s no transport from my site on Saturdays, so I had to hike out to the next caserio (rural community) over in hope of catching the pick –up truck down that leaves at 5:30 in the morning (this means pre-dawn hiking). When I got there, the pick-up never came… so I waited. A couple trucks drove by… but they either weren’t going all the way down the mountain or were already packed to the nines with passengers. So I waited some more. Some people waited with me, patient Salvadorans as they are, but even a few of them gave up and went home. At 7:30 I thought my luck was gone (few people go down the mountain past this hour to run their errands), and I started to walk home. But just as I was about to turn the corner an empty truck came by. Yay! So I got a ride down (which of course is more waiting…. it takes well over an hour to get down the treacherous road). Ran my errands fast, and then waited for a pick-up truck to go back up the mountain. If you’re lucky you only wait a half an hour, but I’ve waited four. This time it was two. And then a two hour pick-up ride back up the mountain, followed by an hour long hike. It took me over twelve hours to buy some tomatoes and a flashlight, and to check my-email.
It surprises me when I talk to you guys and you say things like “you must be so busy” and “I’m not nearly working as hard as you.” I think my reality is a little different than what you flatterers have in mind. I have quite a bit of free time (waiting time) and definitely am not working a nine-to-five.
So, it is with much excitement that I approach two projects. One is stoves. There’s an NGO called Stove Team International that makes these fabulous stoves out of cement. Few families have gas stoves here, and most do all there cooking over an open fire. All the kitchens here are covered in soot. Well, the Stove Team stoves boast a perfect combustion, so there are virtually smokeless. They also use 60% less wood, so there’s an environmental bonus, not to mention less of a brutal chore for the Salvos out here who lug wood up crazy steep hills. A lot of women suffer respiratory and eye problems from cooking, and these stoves can greatly help them. This past Tuesday I held an assembly and invited Stove Team to do a presentation for the gente here. I was nervous, because I passed out invitations before that I realize now were too ambiguous. People thought that this NGO was coming to give away the stoves to everyone for free. Yikes. I had a premonition that when I’d start to talk about payment, people would lose interest. They cost 30$, which might not seem like much, but that’s as much as some families out here make in a month. They can pay in installments, but it’s still a challenge. However, when I started making the list for interested people, I was surprised by how many wanted them. Well over half the people who came wanted one. I’m psyched… and anxious. I’m happy that so many people want these wonderful stoves, but actually getting the money together will be where the real challenge lies. I know not everyone who signed up will be able to pay, but meh, I know at least some will, and any difference is still a difference.
The other project for which I’m eager is a mural. Just a mural, nothing more. We just had graduation for our school, which is ninth grade, pre high-school down here. There were only 8 graduating, but those 8 wanted to paint a mural at the school as their relic. They asked for my help. So we’re doing a world map. Which, my friends, seems like a dinky little nothing of a project, but it’s actually much more complicated and slower than you might think. It’s been a bit of a roller-coaster, this project. I was surprised at how well the kids raised money for the supplies with a raffle they held, but when it came time to start working, the hurdles emerged. It is a slooooooooow process. We had to cement the wall where we wanted to paint, measure out an exact graph, copy grid for grid the map, pencil, marker, then paint and on and on. It’s intricate and delicate and slow, and one small error can have huge effects. So when the kids would show up and then realize how much more complicated it is that they thought, they weren’t so thrilled to continue. Many days it’s been just me, and one other guy, his awesomeness Arnoldo, who’s loyal and hardworking. Slowly but surely we’re getting there.
Two things I want to share about this. One, is that I was shocked at the lack of geographical and spatial knowledge I witnessed. It’s as if they’ve never seen the world entire on a map before. Many think that Central America is the whole world. I asked one chico to find El Salvador, and he could, and then I asked him to find the United States, and he pointed to Africa. So this has also put a bit of a hamper in our progression; explaining directions and which country is which are much more challenging when people have no idea what the world looks like. But, two, this makes me hopeful and excited that we’re doing this little project. We’re doing it a little differently. We put numbers not names on each country that correspond to a list we’ve made on the side with all the names. This way, the teachers can test the kids, covering up the names on the list and asking them to identify from memory. It’s small, but I hope it can make a little difference. And if not, at least it’s something visible. This is a project I can see and touch; a remnant of me that will stay after I go. And after nine and half months, it’s a little something that says “Laura was here.”
And in a final note. There was a horrible storm that hit about two weeks ago. It rained here for about 50 hours straight. But I´m okay. No landslides here. The area where it badly affected was San Vicente, where I had training. My Training host family is alright, we lived high up on a hill opposite the San Vicente volcano. But two training host communities, Verapaz and Tepetitan, sit at the base of the volcano, and were nearly destroyed. It´s devastating. And I know of one volunteer who´s site is on the other side of the volcano. He only has a few months left, and his site is now in ruins. It´s awful, I feel terrible for him and those who lost their homes. But incredibly lucky that nothing happened here. Thanks for the concern, folks.

I haven´t taken a picture yet of the mural, but will soon. But here are some from the stove meeting:

Me introducing the presenters to the gente.

Dina, the health promoter and one of my counterparts, explicaring the effects that smoke has on ya. She´s a great collaborater.

Mercedes, one of my favs, is putting her hand in the mouth, and not getting burned. The heat stays in the center.

Charipa

If any of you have ever been witness to a dog in heat, you’d know how terrible an ordeal it is for the poor girl. I mean… the male dogs are ravenous and unrelenting, and she tries everything she can to avoid it; but it’s hard to escape repeated pummeling when you’re grossly outnumbered. It’s a sordid affair to see and hear; you hear a lot of yelping, and painful barks, and aggressive ones between the males who foam at the mouth. In viewing it’s hard to believe that this… is nature. YUCK!!!
I, luckily or unluckily (your opinion really), have seen my fair share of mating dogs whilst living in this country. Just one of the many perks of El Salvador. Actually, something even lovelier, is that commonly after their boink-fest finishes, the male dog tries to dismount… and… gets stuck. The first time I saw this, my jaw dropped, I double-taked, not believing what I saw. I’ve heard that the reason for this delightful little finale is that in the masculine canine reproductive organ there’s an actual bone (maybe that’s where the term came from…), and that the female dog tenses up post-coitally. So… although I’ve never timed it for sure, at least for a few minutes after baby-making, the two lovers are stuck together, tail to tail. One walks forward and the other walks backward. Until finally, like ripping off a band-aid, the male musters up the courage to take a sharp long stride, and yanks himself free. I’ve been keeping a running tally in my head each time I’ve been lucky enough to view this phenomenon, and the current number is 7, well, 14 dogs actually.
Many dogs here look like a freakish mix of breeds that shouldn’t go together. You imagine the possibilities… that one looks like a great dane/chihuahua mix. None are recognizable breeds. And I’ve noticed that a lot have peculiarly dachsundish builds, very long and low. The mating frenzy from all of these un-neutered and un-spayed dogs creates some interesting offspring. You look around and see ambiguous mutts all over the place.
But oh, not Charipa. No, she’s just adorable. Certainly a mutt, but she didn’t get any of the ugly genes. I’m very biased because she’s our dog and is very affectionate and reminds me of what I imagine Josh may have looked like as a puppy. But still, I think empirically she’s better looking than the masses of… well… uglies.
So it was with maternal affection and concern that I wanted to protect Charipa. When perras (female dogs) have their litters it wears on them. Mama dogs just don’t live as long here. And their “chi-chis” (as the Salvadorans love to call them), hang lower than Cameron Diaz’s roommate’s in There’s Something About Mary (I threw this one in hoping my friends would get the reference, but not my folks… sorry Mom and Dad), it looks like they have udders.
I knew that Charipa wasn’t spayed, and was nervous for when her “time” would come. I had just begun to talk to Mari about fixing our little perra right as she (euphemistically) “entered womanhood”. I started hearing the barks (cries more like) and immediately ran to her aid. The perros were hungry and Charipa was furious, she wanted none of it. I kept her with me all day if I could, she slept in my room, and I told the others to watch her, to keep her inside if they could. But alas, there were just so many dogs, and they only needed a minute (if they didn’t get stuck). A couple days after she cooled, we were all hanging around. I had Charipa on my lap and was giving her a belly rub. Sulma came over and said “Que MORADA!” I started wondering (what’s purple…? ) and then, I looked down. Oh… that’s purple.
Yes, my little Charipa got pregnant. Which has been bittersweet. I do worry about Charipa’s health, but… I’m getting a puppy! Yesterday Charipa gave birth to three puppies, two girls and a boy, who actually look more like rats right now. But hopefully they’ll get cuter like their mother, and hopefully they’ll survive (puppies and kittens have a pretty high mortality rate here). I’ll stay optimistic. I’ve never had my own pet, just mine, and have wanted my own dog here for a while. And I’ll be sure to fix mine, whatever the sex is.
So… in another topic entirely:
A really horrible event happened a few weeks ago. I don’t want to go into too much detail because I think that anyone who reads this blog probably already knows what I’m talking about. But I do want to assure you, loyal reader, that I am okay, and am doing well. Despite this terrible incident I love my community, or perhaps in spite of it. I love my caserio, and the people in it, and feel safe where I live. The quirk of fate here is that this thing made me realize that Los Cims is my home. I have a family here, and I don’t want to leave. I’m always a believer in the yin and yang of things and in this case, the silver lining is that when I imagined leaving here for a different site, my heart clenched. I realized then how genuine my affection is for this place and these people.
Interestingly, the yang of it all has arrived in the form of a shorter temper, less patience, and I guess overall pessimism to certain cultural aspects in general. In my English class the other day I caught myself complaining curtly to my students that the lack of studying shows. OUCH. But you know, this is a common part of the process for volunteers anyway. You can’t stay in dream-land forever, and eventually, some of the culturalities start to wear.
But se la vie, this place really wouldn’t feel like home if there weren’t certain things that bothered me about it anyway. We go on.
Jessica sporting the runt of the group. They don't have names yet.

Little Charipa "mamando," constantly breast feeding.

I mean really, they do look a bit more like rats right now.

¡Mas fotos, y video!

Importing pictures takes FOREVER! I had more time today, so here are some more pics and some video to illustrate my last blog.

I had to be presented by an ¨acompañante.¨ Fearing the chambre (gossip) I´d receive if I asked anyone remotely around my age, I asked Darwin, my 8 year old neighbor, who was forced to do it by his grand-ma. As you can see, he was less than thrilled.

On the left is Kati, the little terrorizer. Don´t let the cute nurse's uniform fool you, SHE´S EVIL!

On the field they took turns lifting up girls on this table who would then dance upon it. Jesica was first, I thought it was adorable.

This was my competition. I was supposed to walk with them during the parade, but opted to take pictures instead.

Jesica´s front and center.

And little Sulma.... I tried to embarrass her to make sure she´d smile. Everyone was so serious and maybe a bit bored doing the same thing again and again.

Mari and a Pageant

What luck I’ve had. I’ve heard some of the horror stories between volunteers and their host families; it really can make or break you. And I’d say most eventually move out and live on their own eventually. Not I; I have the option to leave, but have chosen not to; and unless some wild and drastic change occurs unexpectedly, I predict that I’ll stay.
One of the biggest reasons for this prediction is my blooming friendship with Mari(bel). It’s such a strange relationship, because she takes care of me like a mother (cooking for me etc.), and yet, at only 7 years my senior talks to me much more casually like a friend, and is one of the people I confide in most.
I’m humbled by Mari’s unswerving compassion toward others; she retains it despite life’s brutal punches to her. She doesn’t know her father; he abandoned her when she was just a baby. Her mother had another man and had two more kids with him. I don’t know the extent of it, but Mari has mentioned that this man abused her. I don’t think sexually, but I think he may have beaten her. He also left her mother, and so a newly single woman was left to raise three girls on her own. What little school was available, Mari didn’t attend so that she could help her mother tend the house and help raise her two younger sisters. This instilled a maternal instinct that continues to reign strong. When the first man showed remote interest in her at 15, her mother encouraged, or rather forced her to go with him, sensing the security this man could offer. She didn’t love him, and when she wound up pregnant at 16 and was compelled to marry, she was miserable. She told me that for the first two weeks of her marriage she was horribly depressed and cried every day.
I’m not sure what exactly happened after that, but something changed. She accepted her situation, thought of the life growing inside of her, and learned to love her husband. I think that when Jesica was born, Mari thought of nothing except her daughter. She got pregnant again right away, when Jesica was only 9 months old, and in a place where breast-milk is treasured and recommended until the child is 2 years old, Mari had to stop breastfeeding Jesica all too soon. She learned from this mistake, and decided to stop after two kids to ensure their health (the average family has about 4 kids and some families have 15).
Five years ago her husband left for the states to make more money. Although they talk frequently, and he continues to express his love for her, I’m almost certain he has a mistress on the side. So here Mari stays, caring for her daughters and living in a place she will never leave.
She could be angry, I would understand if she hated the whole world. But she doesn’t. I’m amazed actually by how much she enjoys life. And I see such strength in that. She lives for her daughters. I can see how she does everything she can to ensure that her girls have a better life than she’s had. That affection is unbreakable and really remarkable. There is so much love in this house.
Besides her incredibly story, I like Mari for many other reasons. She is smart, albeit uneducated. She cannot read or write, but harbors an emotional intuition that life has taught her. She can sense how people feel very well. She understands me better than almost anyone else when I’m lost in translation, just by a look I make. Also… she is so nice, too nice really, to a point where people take advantage of her.
Case in point: Kati. None of the teachers at the school are from here. Instead they come in early every Monday, stay with a big family during the week, and leave Friday afternoon. I don’t envy them, they work long hours and spend most of their time away from home and their loved-ones. Two of the teachers bring their daughters. Ligia, the social studies teacher brings her four-year old Kati. I like Ligia, she’s spunky, she has a lot more confidence than many Salvadoran women which is refreshing. But man do I hate how she raises her kid. I think from guilt of working all day, Ligia spoils Kati to the brink. She buys her tons of toys, never gets mad, and gives in whenever she cries. Kati… in my opinion… is the spawn of the devil. She reminds me of really spoiled American kids. And because the family at the house where the teachers stay have had enough, Ligia sends Kati here for Mari and Sulma and Jesica to watch her. I feel like Ligia is taking advantage of Mari’s unusual kindness. Mari felt cornered and of course agreed, and feels nervous to say anything to Ligia.
God do I hate that child. She’s four years old and EVIL. She cries all the time, constantly complains and screams, and runs the household. Every time she cries Mari gives in… giving her anything she wants. She’s nervous that if she scolds her Kati will tell Ligia and drama will erupt. It’s really sickening actually, to see how this four year old controls everyone here. I, on the other hand, am not very nice to Kati. And while I have very little authority to her, I certainly don’t fall for her tears. I try to convince the others not to give in so much, but it’s a fruitless battle.
I wish Mari were more confident. Sometimes I think that she’s sort of given up on her own life and that’s why she puts all her efforts into her kids. She never goes to nocturna, the free adult classes that my friend Daysi teaches, as if she’s settled with the fact that she’s illiterate. She won’t stand up to this rotten child or her mother and thus plays servant to both of them.
Mari’s fortes are understated and underappreciated. She’s smart, she’s playful, and she’s incredibly sweet. I knew I was lucky right away to have a host-mom like her and know I will leave having a very close friend after.
This past weekend we celebrated Independence Day here. I was blown away by all of the effort put into it. The whole school had been practicing to set up this parade for weeks. Jesica participated as a cacipora and Sulma as a bora… kind of like a baton twirler and a cheerleader. It was spectacular. Actually… it was a little too much because I know kids were exhausted from all the work, and Mari and Sulma and Jesica practically passed out when it was all over. Mari and Jesica work as seamstresses on the side, and made about 12 dresses in the week before the fiesta.
I was asked by the school to participate as a candidate for Indepedencia. I didn’t really know what it implied but quickly agreed. When I figured out what it entailed…. yikes. I’ve hated beauty pageants all my life, and never thought I would participate in one. We had to sell votes, and essentially whoever sells the most wins. The irony was, that at first I didn’t really want to win, knowing that many of the other candidates would be little girls (in your face niñas)! But as I started selling the votes, the gente was getting really excited… telling me they hope I win… how fun if the gringa won. So the day of the celebration I was pumped and I wanted to kick all the other 6 year old butts.
Don Marvin is the principal of the school and one of my counterparts. I think he’s a good man, and a hard worker, and really wants to improve the school. But he also likes power and doesn’t like sharing it. So… after we had turned in all the votes and they were tallied… I was way in the lead. Then Don Marvin announced that we would be adding a final 7 minutes to gather more votes to finalize the competition. I thought this was weird and uncool, but I partook. Then, as they were announcing who the winners were… my name was called as second runner up.
The girl who won had been in second-to-last place before the unscheduled extra 7 minutes. During which, her uncle, Don Marvin bought about 30 bucks worth of votes and shot her into first place. LAME! I know I can let the competitive side get the best of me… but dude. What a cheat! He totally manipulated the system so that his kin would win. Yes the money goes to the school, yes I just wanted to participate, but I was so upset! And, if I do say so myself, so were many other community members. The girl who won isn’t even from here; Marvin brought her from his town, so they were pissed at that. And also they had their heart set for the white girl to win. At least, this is what people were telling me after the matter and that’s when I started to get mad.
Ba pues. I guess I’ll never know what the tiara feels like (tear). Mari and Sulma and I started fake crying afterwards. But, after it all, I really was moved by the disappointment others expressed. Their support for me in this little pageant was certainly the best part of the whole experience. And as for Marvin… what a punk… and a cheat.

This is Mari, ain´t she pretty?

The culprit.

The parade filled the soccer field at the end.

Melli, my cousin, Jesica and Sulma, my sisters, and a schoolmate who I forgot the name of. Jesica made all of these dresses except the one on the left.

The Dashwoods

Perhaps it’s because I’ve seen the movie Sense and Sensibility at least a dozen times and love each viewing, perhaps it’s because I just recently finished reading the book, or perhaps it’s because I think Jane Austin had her intuition quite in tune… but I’ve come to notice the similarities between my sisters here and Elinor and Marianne Dashwood.
First let’s talk about Sulma: the precious and adorable, the vibrant and unabashed, the Marianne of the two.
I think it was Sulma’s ingenuous optimism that first made me love her. Her first impression is very strong. She isn’t shy; she’s very playful, and incredibly affectionate. She loves to sing and dance and hug and isn’t timid about doing any of them. I love that. Especially here where most kids are too embarrassed to raise their hand in class and would rather die than talk in front of a group. Sulma’s a performer. When I had the general assembly and we played the scene reenacting my first day here, Sulma was terrific; she even improvised.
When she grows up she wants to be a singer and a dancer. At 12, having a dream like that in The States is even rare, here, it’s unheard of. But she won’t let anyone rain on her parade. She also told me that she doesn’t want to get married until she’s 30 because of all the things she wants to do with her life first. Again, this is outrageous and beautiful. Age 30 is on the down-side of spinsterhood for women here, I usually get bewildered stares when girls find out I’m single at 23.
I guess it’s her naivety that I love so much. She’s so young and impressionable and still holds that childlike wonderment that we’ve all but lost. Do I think that eventually the world will harden her spirit? Yes I do. But please, not just yet. I want her to keep the fantasy as long as possible.
Even though it’s only been a few months, I absolutely love Sulma and I think she will be one of the hardest people to say goodbye to.
And then of course there’s Jesica: the practical and sharp, the perceptive and modest, the one who strikes much more resemblance to Elinor.
I liked Jesica right away too, but my affection for her wasn’t as immediate as that for Sulma. As time has passed she’s continually impressed me and I’ve come to care for her very much.
Jesica is more timid in front of a crowd, but still she acted in my little scene for the assembly. I think she did this less for the acknowledgement of the performance, and more because she knew I needed help. I’ve noticed that. She’s always setting aside her own regards in order to help others.
She’s also very smart, in a way that might not be immediately obvious, but over time is impossible to ignore. It’s been really nice to find these little surprises about her along the way. During the census I gave a questionnaire to everyone over 13 to see how much they knew about sexual reproduction and all that jazz. Jesica, who’s 13, answered better than most 16 or 17 year olds I gave it to. There was a question that asked what the risks are for having a child prematurely; most kids either didn’t know or said something like the parents can’t care for the baby. Jesica said abortion, which is illegal in this country. And I just remember being very impressed with that answer because she was the only one who thought of it, yet it is probably the most practical answer to the question.
One of my favorite things about Jesica is that she likes to walk fast. Silly, I know, but Salvadorans walk soooo slow, it takes them forever to go anywhere. I, on the other hand, have maintained my rapid American pace. I’ve always been like this, I don’t know why, but it’s just my thing. Anyways, whenever we go around with a big group, Jesica and I always take the lead. I time how fast we can climb this one unbelievably steep hill to see if we improve each time. She’s more competitive and outdoorsy than Sulma, and God knows I love that.
When Jesica grows up, she wants to be a teacher. Perhaps not as wild and romantic as a dancer, but certainly more pragmatic, and something I can really see her doing.
I love the differences between my sisters; one’s strength is the other’s weakness. Where Sulma is more emotional and dramatic Jesica is prudent and level-headed. Where Jesica is safe and predictable, Sulma is daring and spontaneous.
So there you have it. A glimpse of two of the most important people to me here in El Salvador.
Work and life here have been pretty slow. But that’s not anything I haven’t expected. With the help of the school and the ADESCO (community-based organization), we’re starting a recycling program… ish. Basically we fill these gigantic bags called Jumbos with plastic bottles and a guy who brings goods to the local store with his semi will haul them away. I hope we can keep this one going. I’m starting with a competition at the school to see which grade can collect the most bottles, and I’ve been blown away by how many the kids have collected. But to actually continue this practice might be the real challenge.
At any rate, I’ll stay optimistic. I haven’t done much yet, and it’s been almost 7 months in this country. I understand more and more everyday why this is a two year commitment.

Sulma showing off outr lovely latrine. This is where all of our "business" gets done. And she presents it better than Vanna White could (I might be biased).

This is Jesica and her grandmother Mercedes, another one of my favorites here. Those are Mercedes glasses. I love this picture because they're both smiling which is a rarity down here.

Daysi

She's the youngest daughter of quite a big family and has thus been given the role of caring for her ailing mother and father. She's seen the likes of her community and has ardenty tried to better her situation, and that of others. She's worked hard all of her life- she not only went to high school, (a rarity here) she graduated a year early. She worked as a health promoter- one who makes house visits from dawn to dusk, hiking around these montsrous peaks, most days without lunch. Her mother has hypertension, diabetes, heart failure, and is practically house-ridden. Her father, while very friendly and gentle, suffers dementia and cannot help domestically very much. Her own health, perhaps genetically, has been in jeopardy with panging chest pains from hiking so much. So, she had to give up work as the promoter. She always looks for new and better opportunities and sought training to become and educator for illiterate adults here. Under request from the people here, she started giving free classes to teach reading. At three o'clock everyday, she waits patiently at the casa comunal to give her classes. Sometimes people come, maybe 3 or 4. Many times, perhaps from sheer embarrassment, they don't.
Many of her sibling have left for the states and she'd like to go some day. But she is needed here and knows she has to better her English. So she's looking for a course to learn computation and English. She's 20 years old, and unlike most of the young ladies her age, she remains single and childess and is is no rush to do either any time soon.
When I see Daysi, I see an incredibly bright, tenacious, caring, patient, beautiful woman caged by circumstance. She wants so much to be something more, something better than expected. But there seem more forces holding her back.
I first met Daysi dirning the census. Actually, I first visited her house when she was not there, and questioned her father, Don Floro. And while enjoyed his colorful stories and charming kindess (he showed me a bettle scar from the war right away), I realized soon that he was in no way capable to answer the census. So on my second visit there, I met Daysi; who, with her excelling education not only gave me accurate responses, but she also knew more than ANYONE else about HIV and other health related questions. When I asked if she'd ever had an AIDS test, she confessed she didn't, but really, had no need to (if you know what that means). I wanted to give her a hug right away. You go girl!
That first visit, I stayed for nearly 2 hours talking with her. I almost cried when she opened up about her situation. I felt utterly clueless with what I could do to help.
One of my favorite things about Daysi is that we can actually talk. It may sound mean... but truth be told, most of my conversations with the gente here don't reach much depth. I've had the same chats about the weather and chores too many times. But with Daysi, we can have more substantial conversations without the awkward silences or hackneyed conversations. She really is one of my closest friends here, probably my best, and I want so much to help her.
She asked for help with her classes. It's maddening. And delicate. How do you make people come who don't want to. I hope with some new collaboration and pleading we might be able to get a few more regulars... but in truth this seems like something that slowly fizzles out. I guess when you've been used to not reading your whole life it's a hard decision and a huge effort to change. But if no one comes, Daysi will have to stop and there goes another job.
So today, I thought I'd share a little about one of my favorite people here, Daysi. She really is amazing, and she could be so much more if only she were given the right chance. She deserves it.

Dasyi and me at a Fiesta Rosa (or quinceñera) I attended.

Anything new with me you might ask? Well, a stint that has the potential to be quite an obstacle has arisen. Due to 3 cases of swine flu in Morazon (my department, or state) school has been suspended. It's a pending suspension that tentively will stop August 2nd (our summer break begins in November). But it could last longer, being in that this damn virus is only growing.
It is scary to be sure. But I'm also bummed. I was just getting started with the school! And now all of that footing is going out the window for the time being.
I guess this will give me the chance to focus on other areas, but the school really is a great resource for me, and I don't anticipate such an easy entrance in other fields.
In other news. Mike, the volunteer who called Los Cimientos home before me, is visiting. For the months after his service ended he backpacked through South American and worked his way back up here. It seems like quite a fabulous trip actually. He hiked through patagonia and visited a dozen countries and spontaneously traveled around practially the whole continent.
But now he's stopping by for about a week. It's nice to see him, I like taking advantage of his knowledge... and bogging him down with a million questions about his experience. But I'm also a little nervous. I guess I really value his opinion and now that he's here seeing what I'm doing in his old site... UNDER PRESSURE.
Also, this past weekend I went to a quinceñera, or as they call it a Fiesta Rosa. What an ordeal it was. So much effort was put into it. And I have to say I don't think I've ever seen an uglier pink dress.
Here are some pics... I'll preface them with saying that Salvadorans don't smile in pictures. Don't ask me why.


I thought all of these boys were adorable, they were fooling around the whole time, not really knowing what to do. I'm not exactly sure why they get so many little ones . But these kids at least had the role of holding the train of the Quince's dress while she walked.

The guest of honor, Elizabeth, her cousin at her side, presenting her to society. And 2 younger relatives in front playing the roles of mini-me's.
Some of the cutiest girls in my sight, I believe at least. The one on the right I think will be a real beauty.

Exploring

I´ve done quite a bit of exploring around my new home and I thought I´d shed some light...


A cascade that's recently formed with the rainy season. I've seen it from afar and hope to hike out to it soon.


Called ¨quebradas¨ (¨breaks¨), the many creeks freely flow over the main road. Sometimes they´re pretty hard to cross by car. Come October, when it constantly rains, there might not be any crossing at all.

Another quebrada, it´s getting harder and harder to cross with dry feet.

View from the top of our volcano of the San Vicente volcano out west. I climbed that beast... Hoo Rah.

I had the troops line up to try and show how steep some of the hills are. This still doensn´t do it justice. Trust me, some of these hills are brutal. From front to back, Franklin, Sulma, Melli, Jesica, and Betty.

This is one of the many creeks formed by natural springs that lead to a bigger river. Right down from our backyard. I would have loved to come here as a kid, and show my excitement in this picture. Betty in front, however, thinks I´m weird.

This is what I´d say a typical house looks like in Los Cimientos. Sticks and mud... or ¨bahareque¨ as they call it down here. The walls actually protect better than you might think, but the bugs are everywhere and you´re constantly dirty.

Questionnews

Bryn sent me a really cute email with some interesting questions that I thought I’d steal for this entry. And I suppose I’ll attach some news conmigo.

1) Where do I bathe and how often?
I bathe outside in our pila. It’s an outdoor cement sink where we do all of our washing (dishes, clothes, bodies, etc.). The water comes pretty consistently from that hose which is a lot nicer than what most people have (2 times a week sometimes for only 15 minutes). The hose is connected directly from a natural spring, so this is where I get my drinking water too.
I shower everyday here, in the afternoon when it’s hottest. It’s not very private, so I usually bathe with spandex and a tank top on. It hasn’t been too huge a sacrifice yet… I don’t beg for hot showers, but I probably will after a few more months.

This is the Pila, let your imagination run wild.

1) What am I eating?
Breakfast usually consists of some combination of eggs, beans, cheese, rice, potatoes, sometimes some pasta, ALWAYS served with a tortilla. Fruits and veggies are few and far between but usually consist of onion, green beans, carrots, mangoes, and bananas.
Lunch, almost always a cup of noodles and a tortilla.
Dinner, some other combination of the same foods from breakfast… oh, and a tortilla.

2) What do I miss?
I miss so much… it’s really hard to pinpoint. It varies.
Of course I miss my friends and family. Especially when something silly or fun or exciting happens and I want to tell them immediately. I miss the food… not so much any kind of food in particular, but more the option for an array of food and the ability to make my own.
I miss a lot of things American… movies, cities, parks, running outdoors, museums TODO.

3) What do I love most?
Again… it’s hard to only choose one. If pressed, I’d broadly say the people. But more specifically, the implicit acceptance and hospitality these people offer. I’ve had some of the greatest conversations with complete strangers, and I couldn’t do that in the same way in the states. Maybe my relationships here don’t have the same depth my relationships at home have… but the kindness these people show right off the bat is heartwarming.

4) What does it smell like?
I guess thicker and warmer. If you’re near the sugarcane fields, then incredibly sweet. After it rains however, some funky smells can arise since we have no sewage system and the streets are cluttered with litter.

5) When do I go to bed and wake up?
Mari, Sulma and Jesica usually mosey into bed pre 9ish. I usually am in bed around that time, and read or watch a movie for a while, but I don´t make it too late.
I usually wake up around 6ish. On days that I go to Gotera, such as today... it´s a 4amer. But many times even though I wake up early, I don´t get out of bed for quite a while.

6) What do I hate?
Difficult to say, it depends on my mood. I guess I´d say culturally, the Machismo. It´s pretty painful to see sometimes how subordinate the women are. And I have very little patience when a man tries to undermine me. That and the piropos (catcalls) drive me nuts. The stuff they whisper sometimes when I walk by can be pretty disgusting. It´s so stupid.

7) What is my favorite Spanish curse word?
I´d have to say ¨Pu chica¨which isn´t really a swear word. It´s literally like saying ¨Oooooh, guuuuuuurl!¨ But it can have the connotation of ¨Holy shit!¨

8) Are there any boys/hombres/guapos?
Not really my type. But they´re getting more and more guapo the longer I´m alone. They´re short and skiiiiiiny... but damn, some of them are super ripped from working out on the field all day. Their arms are yoked and veiny.

9) Is their any night life/local music scene.
Absolutely not. Not in the canton (countryside) at least. There´s nothing outside after sundown. And as for music, some guys get together sometimes and play religious music... not much of a dance party though.

10) Are there any unsual animals?
A lot of funky bugs. I´ve found a few scorpions in my room too. Some of the weirdest looking dogs you´ve ever seeen roam around here as well. I guess that´s what happens when you scrape the bottom of the doggy gene pool. They all seem to have a little bit of dachschund in them, and most are really ugly.

11) Do I siesta?
No. It doesn´t get too hot where I´m at, but they don´t usually siesta in other parts either. I guess it´s a European thing.

And now for something completely different...

To celebrate the 4th of July almost every white person (all of the volunteers) in El Salvador went to the capital to unleash the beasts. There are 4 different types of volunteers here, Municipal Development, Youth Development, AgroForestry/Environmental Education, and Rural Health and Sanitation (yours truly). We had a soccer tournament between the different programs, and guess who won? It was quite fun… I got to meet a ton of new volunteers and get to know others better. We’re all over the place, in every corner of this tiny country.

Here we are, the campeones. Not sure I can remember all their names, but they´re all Rural Healthers.

Afterward we… ahem… celebrated. No there were no fireworks, but I don’t think we really minded. I was bummed to be missing one of my favorite days of the years at home, but maybe I can visit for the next one.
And what am I doing in site you ask? As of now… I’m helping the English teacher Nuria with her classes. The poor thing, she works very hard, but doesn’t know the language herself, and no one can pronounce anything. I’m creating some of my own lesson plans that pertain to hers and teaching them to 7th, 8th and 9th grade.
I’ve also begun a program called Como Planear Mi Vida, once a week lessons I give to 7th grade all about the future and communication and self esteem and sexual reproduction and everything nice. I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty excited for the Sex-Ed. Who wouldn’t have fun teaching a bunch of Spanish speaking teenagers how to correctly use a condom?
It’s been a good start… but I can tell right away I’m going to have to try a million different methods for teaching and maintain an endless patience. There’s a funny double edged sword Salvos have. They’re practical and unsentimental in many ways where we’d be lost in our neurosis. Ask them who is your ideal mate and they’d probably say, ‘someone who loves me’. But they can also be very unimaginative and painfully shy where we’d foam at the mouth. Ask them where would you travel if you could travel anywhere in the world and they’d probably say ‘El Salvador.’ They’re not rewarded for creativity or spontaneity, and I’m hoping with these classes, I can extract a little of both.

PST 2

So I thought I´d start with a few pics from the Asamblea (last enntry).
Laughing nervously when a joke wasn´t as widely received as I had hoped.

Sulma, Me and Jesica (my 2 sisters) acting out a scene at the Asamblea. The gente seemed to like it.

Umm... yeah. Hopefully paying attention.

And now... for today´s entry:

It’s funny, isn’t it? The things you get nervous about, when afterward you realize your anxieties were all for nothing? As I rode approaching San Vicente, I felt a flurry of nerves… seeing my training family again… being surrounded by my fellow gringos… wondering if I’d feel at home or disconnected. Well like many things I stress about… it seemed silly afterward; I enjoyed PST 2 (pre-service training) more than I thought I would.

Where to begin? I guess one of the first things I’ve noticed is that thus far I’ve been having a more chipper time than many. We did a rough assessment of where we each are in the different emotional stages of PCVdom, and while many are drudging through a disappointed yet optimistic stage, I’m still enjoying the high of the honeymoon stage. This makes me feel good… lucky that most experiences have been pleasant surprises or better than I feared. But I’m also wary, because I know this can’t last forever, and things are bound to get difficult. I’m anticipating these next coming months to be a bit more trying.

As far as the technicals- most of PST 2 consisted of other volunteers sharing their experiences with different types of projects. Some of the highlights: we visited a bunny farm (rabbit meat is high in protein, easy to grow, and cost-effective) where I got to see a ravenous male repeatedly sow his wild oats (sheds new light on the phrase “at it like rabbits”), and I witnessed a killing and skinning (flashbacks of Thanksgiving in West Virginia…. anyone?). Another was a presentation by an NGO down here that makes amazing stoves (most people still cook, at least tortillas, over an open fire), the stoves are small and portable and use about half the wood than other stoves, and because they have a perfect combustion, are virtually smokeless (many women have respiratory and eye problems with all the smoke).

We were taught how to grant write to petition money, how to form and maintain youth groups, how to teach English in different ways etc. Some projects seemed pretty futile for Los Cimientos (that’s the name of my site for my regular readers), but others made me foam at the mouth.
We had one free weekend of which we took full advantage. In San Sal, we basked and bathed in la piscina of the Sheraton, ate DELICIOUS sushi, and went clubbing. Then it was off to El Tunco, a touristy surf town in the department of La Libertad. Wow… I hadn’t seen that many white people in quite a while… it didn’t feel like El Sal. The water was fabulous… no adjustment time necessary, it was immediately warm. And I got some great down time with other PVCs, I’d forgotten how relaxing drinking wine and conversing is.

Anywho, I was feeling skippy finishing up our time in San Vicente. Save for the second gastro-intestinal infection I got. I swear… my training family is trying to kill me. This time wasn’t nearly as bad as the first… no vomiting, but still, not a pleasant affair. You know, they tell us that there’s no such thing as immunity that you build intestinally, but I don’t buy it. Either Salvadorans have iron stomachs, or they have an amazing tolerance for diarrhea.

We finished up PST 2 with an AIDS workshop in another gorgeous beach location, Costa del Sol in La Paz. This time we got to invite counterparts from our sites to come and learn together. So Dina, one of my counterparts and the health promoter (kind of a nurse who makes house visits) came, as well as a girl named Marta who sometimes helps Dina. The lessons were pretty good (I’ll admit I didn’t know you can transmit HIV through breastfeeding), they gave us different ideas of how to teach the community about such an issue. But even better was the free-time. It was great hanging out with gringos AND Salvadorans together. We played soccer on the beach, went swimming, toured the peninsula on a boat, had a bonfire, and made s’mores (an exchange of American culture). It was great seeing how much the counterparts enjoyed themselves. I left happily surprised at how much fun I had.

And now… I’m back. I have so many ideas for projects I want to do. I’m anxious and excited, but I know I’ll never do all I want to, and I’m sure some projects will probably be utter disasters. Ba pues… poco a poco. My game plan is to start with the school. I’m going to start having weekly courses for Como planear mi vida, lessons all about communicating better and sexual health and self esteem and thinking about the future and all that jazz. Should be good… but only as a starting point, not a huge project. We’ll see what will bloom from there.

Vamos a ver.

Some more pics...

Yes... the hotel had Macaws. And they weren´t afraid of humans in the slightest.

Grigos and Salvos unite. This was on a speed boat of a friend of Bri´s (my boss) who toured us around. The counterparts were really excited, and scared of to ride.

Dina on the Left, Marta on the right. I really had a blast with them, and the hotel was gorgeous.

La Asamblea

PUNCTUALITY...

Certainly an American virtue. I understand it, it does show a certain respect. But it is also an example of our rigidness, and something I´m learning to forget to expect here.

Bri, my APCD (Administrative Peace Corps Director- I believe.... essentially the boss of all the rural healthers), advised us that to begin the Asambleas at the prospective time, we shjould send invitations indicateing 30 minutes earlier. Sp 1 pm was written on my invitations, which I dispersed to the students at the school to give to their parents (much easier than going door to door), although some people who I liked and wanted to be there I delivered personally.

I imagined enough people would filter in by 1:30 to begin. Carlos, a Salvadoran and administrator who works with Bri, came around 11 to check up on how I´d been doing and help set up for the meeting. I was really happy to see him, although his presence didn´t calm my nerves.

Held last Thursday at the Casa Comunal, I had all the posters set up by 12:45, my sisters, especially Jesica, hugely helped me out with these. They were happy to help. A lot, I´d say most adults here can´t read that well or at all, so visuals are a must. I especially loved Jesica´s handy work on the illness section, symbolizing diarrhea by a drawing will always be funny.

1pm passes, about 35 chairs (all that were available) are set up, and maybe 5 of them are filled. 1:15, maybe 10, 1:25, 20. I try to keep my cool, pacing and studying my notecards, and greeting the gente I recognize. But my thoughts are occupied, I´m thinking¨Oh, man, no one´s coming. I handed out 150 invitations, and only 30 will show.¨ By 1:40 most of the seats are filled, so I figured it was a good time to start.

It was strange. I felt so ambivalent the whole time. I wanted to keep the tone breezy and comical, a tone that was received with mixed reactions.

Some parts, were very successful: with my family´s help, we opened with a skit re-enacting the hilarity of my arrival- laughs and applause. But other parts, not so successful: I found with the census that there are a lot more males than females in the 15-24 year old range (79 vs 58). wanting to use this as a platform for a joke, I said I´d like to keep these jovenes occupied, because having a bunch of young, energetic males without enough females could be trouble; ¨Because I know what they´re thinking¨- stony silence. GULP! I nervously laughed, and quickly continued, feeling the heat build and the sweat drip down my back.

I tried to break it up into different sections, pausing for questions and pop quizzes. I handed out pictures of family, friends, and San Diego, and after a certain section I would ask who had the pictures, then ask them an obvious question, and gave out cookies to correct responses (which were all of them). I also gave out cookies to anyone who attempted to pronunce my last name. And although the participation wasn´t jumping off the charts, enough were trying so that I didn´t make a complete fool of myself.

At the end, after presenting all my findings, I said something like, ¨I´m not sure of all the things I´ll do here, and I can´t promise that all of them will work. But one thing I can promise is that I will work very hard and try as hard as I can to support you with whatever you need.¨ I sighed a relief as the crowd applaided. And, as I finally really looked at the audience, I noticed something, it had greatly filled. Huge numbers were standing, gathering at the back and bursting at the sides. A lot of men showed up too (I was only really expecting mothers).

Carlos spoke to the audience after I had finished to clarify anything. He also pleaded, saying ¨Laura´s here to work for you- but one thing she needs is your support, your help, to get work done together.¨A lot of glances and nods were shot my way, it was very humbling. I wanted to run and hug Carlos.

Afterward, Carlos and I talked. He said he was very impressed by how many people showed- which ended up at I´d say aroung 100. He said the closest he had seen so far wat 60ish. That made me feel really good.

I told him how nervous I was and how I wasn´t really sure if any of the information I presented would be retained, but that I was happy to make a better impression in front of so many of the community.

However- to my delight- I actually may have raised a few brows. Later that day at the local tienda, the clerk and a neighbor talked to me about the HIV and Reproductive Health sections (no one here plans for children). They said that they usually talk about this stuff with the guys, but didn´t really know how to discuss it with women and children. They said they were happy to see a woman talk to the community about these things, and I was just as happy that 2 men were open to talk to me about it. And as for the periods of blank silence, Don Marvin (my counterpart)said that the people here are timid... so that opening up for jokes may take some time.

All in all, I was happy with the Asamblea, and even happier that it was over. After seemingly endless hiking for the census, hours of studying the results, and late nights preparing the presentation, I was completely exhausted. I slept 10 hours that night.

So- I´m optimistic, with maybe a hint of skepticism. It´s one thing to be able to identify all the problems in the community- but it is entirely another to actually begin work with the support of the gente. The next big step.

But first- I return to San Vicente this weekend for PSTII (pre service training dos). This time, it´s all about technical and logistical aspects of getting projects done- the practical matter. I´m there for 3 weeks, and then I return. And although now my official title bears the word ¨Volunteer¨I think I won´t really feel like one until I get back.

Some Pics for Last Entry...

Sideways view of my front view.... That's the main road... and that is the casa comunal where I'll have my Asamblea General.
Mi Casa. One of the nicer one's in town. That blanket is the comforter to my bed, and those toilety looking seats are latrines to be installed in some neighbor's homes.
Me and one of my neighbor's Marta. She's 17.... can you believe how tiny a they are here!
Me Mom Maribel, and Sulma, decked out for the dance.