Us and Them...

Thoughts thoughts thoughts… It’s really unbelievable the amount of time I spend thinking. I guess it makes sense: we’re nonstop thinking creatures. But at home, the routine or the commitment of something would distract or focus my thoughts. Here, the seclusion and lack of routine have me pressing introspective thoughts to the likes of Thoreau in Walden. I think so much about my life here: what it is I want to accomplish, understanding how things work, how to implement the things I’d like to do, my relationships here… and so on. But just as often, I think about my life when I come home: how I’ll adjust, what will feel different, how will I be changed, and what the hell I am supposed to do. This whole experience really gives you a lot of time to assess and reassess your life.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the relationships in my life, and the differences between the ones I have here and back at home. I get asked all the time here about what people are like in the States, and how our relationships are different. Honestly, what I noticed almost immediately is that here, people are much more instantaneously friendly and inviting, welcoming you into their home and offering you a meal before they even know your name. Salvadorans are wonderful at striking up affable conversations with complete strangers, with such a pleasantness, you feel as if you’ve been friends for years. I feel we Americans could really take a lesson from this. I think we’re fairly awkward meeting new people, and indeed tend to alienate ourselves. We go through crowds trying not to make eye-contact, listening to our i-pods, standing in line rigidly, always making ourselves look busy so that we avoid spontaneous encounters. I’m not saying they never happen there, but they sure don’t like they do here. Perhaps more free-time brings about much of this: people here have the time to offer a stranger, to sit and talk and get to know them better. But aside from more spare time, I find that people here are just more carefree and open straight away than we are at home.
But the yang comes out in this paradox as well. Where I think we have them beat is in the depth of our relationships. We might not welcome each other as openly and as instantaneously as they do… but we sure do like to have sincere connections, to reach a profound understanding of one another. I’d say that there’s a good side to the Salvadoran way in that they don’t tend to put outrageous expectations on one another; they’re much more accepting of flaws, and seem to be satisfied and content with their relationships easily. But there’s also that lack of depth, the shortage of intensity and connection.
For one example: our ideas of romantic love are incredibly different… actually, they don’t even really use that phrase: “romantic love.” We are so obsessed at finding our “soul mates,” to burn with passion, to keep hunting till we find that perfect mate. And if we’re lucky enough to do so… that’s when the wedding bells ring. Here… your mate is someone who may have shown you interest once, and who you end up with because “it’s time,” or because whoops… you’ve got a baby on the way. I see some couples together here; and while it seems they’re comfortably satisfied, it certainly doesn’t seem like they have anything resembling passion. Instead, it seems like they’re with one another because it just happened that way, and there’s not much either one can do about it. Who knows which is right? I think at home we get carried away with the fantasy and the fluff. But here, there’s such a dull complacency with relationships it makes you sad.
So for me… even though none of my relationships are romantic (yeah… right), I feel there’s a painful irony with the people whom I’m “closest” with. On the one hand, I can feel completely welcomed, as if I really am accepted as a family member. And on the other, I feel there’s so much about me that they don’t know: my values, my beliefs, my philosophies etcetera… it’s so much more than just what the language barrier blocks. And frankly, they don’t care: they’re happy knowing as much as it is they know about me and don’t feel they need to find out more.
So, I wonder a lot about if and how this will affect my relationships when I come back home, whether or not there’s a balance I can strike. Thoughts thoughts thoughts…
In a truly grand and generous gesture, Paloma came to visit me earlier this month, and it was fantastic. We were able to travel a bit. We went to a gem of city called Antigua, in Guatemala. I was floored. It was almost magical. It’s maintained a lot of its colonial influences and is stylized beautifully. It’s so completely different from anywhere I’ve been to in El Salvador… in fact I was really shocked by how different Guatemala was in general. It certainly is much richer and much more advanced.
While in Antigua, we went on a trek of a nearby volcano called Pacaya. We hiked up to four-year old dried lava, underneath which, there are still active lava flows. There were holes in the rock where you could see the burning underneath; it was wild.
And after traveling the more touristy route, we headed back to my site; which is quite the polar opposite of Antigua. And while I think the physical barriers were a bit tough for Paloma (it’s a hell of a commute up here), I also think that same immediate welcoming Salvadorans are so keen at impressed her. She did fantastically with the people here, and they all liked her right off the bat.
It was lovely to see my friend, and our connection was instantaneous. Within minutes we were talking as though we had never parted. But it also showed some of the differences in me, and showed me that coming back home won’t be a seamless adjustment.
Something I’m realizing about the relationships I have with people here, is that, even if they don’t mean the same thing for them as they do for me, they’re still incredibly valuable and meaningful to me. I can’t expect Mari and Sulma and Yesica to feel for me what I feel for them; that’s unfair, and it’s not the way people do things here. But what I feel is true and strong, and real for me… and that’s what matters.
There’s a girl here named Sandra. I think I mentioned her in an earlier blog, but last year, I nominated her for a special Peace Corps scholarship for women so that she could go to high-school. The competition was stiff, out of 120-some odd people who applied, only 23 girls got the scholarship. Sandra was first choice. So this year, she’s been committing to high-school, the first person in her family to do so. This last weekend, Peace Corps hosted a weekend camp in which all the scholarship winners and the volunteers who nominated them got together to focus on their achievements and motivate them for their futures.
I absolutely loved taking Sandra. She comes from a very poor, very religious (evangelically so), sheltered family here, with 6 siblings or so, and no electricity. She had never traveled farther than San Miguel, a city we can easily see from the peaks of our mountain. But this weekend, we crossed the country together (small for me but colossal for Sandra) to go to a lake front resort in Santa Ana. The bus ride alone made it well worth it for me. I made her take the window seat and watched her eyes pop time and time again.
My site is one of the most rural, poorest, and underdeveloped sites in the country; and when we arrived, we could see that Sandra fit that mold. All of the other girls there were to say the least richer; but many were also from much more urban and modern towns, and had had a lot more exposure to contemporary teachings. So I was a little bit nervous for Sandra, who could understandably be very intimidated. But even if she was a little bit trepid for some of the activities, she was absolutely open and willing. She participated in everything even if she did feel a little uncomfortable: she fastidiously listened and took notes in all of the lessons, and absorbed everything like a sponge. I kept exchanging glances with her as I watched her practice self-defense moves, and put a condom on a cucumber (pregnancy pretty much guarantees dropping out of school here).
I loved watching Sandra during the camp, I was very proud of her. On the way back home, I had a very satisfied and happy feeling; I kept wanting to hug her. I’m sure my feelings toward her are much cheesier than what she feels toward me, but I don’t care. Sandra is an inspiration. What she has achieved already and what I know she is going to achieve give me hope. Whenever I feel pessimistic about people here, it’s her determination and will that remind me there are bigger dreams for the future… and those are the thoughts I like thinking.


I´ve included some pictures of my travels... and also from the last blog, here are pictures of the camp... I´ll try to get some of Sandra next time.

This is a shaky look-out from the Protected Area. We were really nervous having all those kids run up it. But anyway... here are all the kids.

This is the whole group at the camp site. The poster says ¨Gracias Kids to Kids,¨ which was part of the agreement to get the fundulation.

I lead half the group up on a hike... Jesus... why can´t they smile?

Love it... Paloma and I dominated that volcano.

People were roasting marshmallows and hot-dogs too. Pretty sick, huh?

Get too close and you´ll burn your eyelashes off.

And here are some of Antigua proper.

This church had fallen down and been rebuilt numerous times. It´s old. What was funny was that we bumped into 2 other tourists who took this picture of us and we took one of them... small world, because they were from San Diego también.

If you look closely... you´ll see that this fountain is a tribute to all the breastfeeding mothers in Cental America... I think.

We kept looking for this, and then stumbled upon it coincidentally. I was amazed by this kind of architecture there... and an analog clock, that worked!

Ooooh wee.... Ain´t it purdy?

Camp

Camp Cacahuatique... we hold you in our hearts... and when we think about you... it makes me wanna....



One of the coolest things about where I live is that it claims ownership to a state-sanctioned natural reseve, a Protected Area, if you will. There are no homes there, just a lodge where workers routinely stay. These workers passionately drudge: clearing out the trails, picking up litter, keeping the place breathtakingly gorgeous... and trying to entice more gente to come. It really is one of my favorite things about Los Cims, and I go there often; you can really get some amazing vistas.



What a shame it is then that so few Cimientonians (?) actually do go. Okay, I get it... a lot of people here have to hike all day anyway... or work in the fields all day... so adding an extra workout just to enjoy some pretty scenery isn't exactly prime on their list. But still, if I were a kid here, I'd spend every free minute exploring arund the Area Protegida, even if so few real kids here actually do.



The Area Protegida also boasts tents and sleeping bags, even more enticement for the locals. But they so very rarely get used. Upon learning of these handy resources... it didn't take long for me to realize that this place is quite perfect to host a weekend camp. So a few weeks ago, that's exactly what I did. I got a $500 grant from an NGO called Kids-to-Kids, that funds Peace Corps projects aimed at educating children. The funding was easy, thr brunt of the work came in planning the agenda and getting all of the supplies. But with a little effort, I had arranged to bring kids from my community, and drive in kids from 2 other communities where the two closest volunteers to me live. I also invited three other volunteers to help out.





As for the theme, I went for environmental education... not exactly a priority for my program (Rural Health and Sanitation), but definitely something find important. The age group I aimed for was between 10-14... any younger than that, I tend to find annoying. In the end we had 6 volunteers, 22 kids, and at any one time 2 workers at the Area Protegida.



A jammed-packed weekend and exhausiting, but, if I do say so myself, a glowing success. I had a lot of fun, and most things ran smoothly. There were some minor setbacks, to be expected, but in retrospect, what I found funny was that what I anticipated to be problematic wasn't, and the things I thought would be a cinch, weren't.



To illustrate my last remarks...



FLOP: Getting girls. I had heard of other camps volunteers had done previously, and many had been either all girls, or all boys.... co-ed ones are a littel trickier. In a country where a girl's virginity is about as sacred as the pope's cloak, parents are pretty paranoid about having their daughters sleep away from home (ironically teenage pregnancies are frightfully high here).

But, smug Laura that I am, did not think this would be a problem for me. I live with two girls (my sisters Yesica and Sulma), and right next door are my two "cousins" Beti and Meli- I thought they were sure things... but how wrong was I. Sulma flat out refused to come, not because Mari (her mama) didn't want her to, but because she didn't want to leave her mama. "Oh come on Sulma, you're 12 years old, and your mom wants you to go. And it'll be so much fun, it'll zoom by, you'll be back before you know it." But alas, no, the bond between mother and daughter was too strong.

Then, an unfortunate event wreaking with machismo prevented Beti and Meli to come. Carmen their mother (also the mother of asshole baby Alexander, remember?) quickly approved, but it got leaked to their dad in The States and he, for some God-awful reason, said no! This creap, Asuncion, I believe his name is, has basically abandoned his family. Aside from the occassional $50 bucks he sends for his kids sake, he's nonexistant as a father. He has told Carmen he doesn't love her anymore, told his kids that he's not coming back, and has a new woman and kids with her now in the U.S. So, I felt that his opinion had little merit. "What if they still go, even with his disapproval, what would he do?" I asked Carmen, pleading. "He'll stop sending money, Laura." ...... "Oh...."

I even talked to the chode on the phone, explaining that I've lived with Mari for a year, Beti and Meli are like family to me, there will always be adult supervision, the boys and girls will sleep in separate tents, Carmen can come and check up on them if she wants to.... NOTHING! This was one stubborn dead-beat.

So, the day before the camp I was scrambling to find more girls. I managed to get some replacements, but I felt pretty bad for Beti and Meli. I told them that next time, not to tell their dad till afterward.

RAVE: I knew we were probably going to be short on sleeping bags, so I was asking nearby volunteers to lend some, knowing the AP didn't have enough. I was really preoccupied about this. I mean, could you imagine in America having a camp without enough sleeping bags for everyone, and the consequent hissy fits that would follow? So when we were divying out bags, I nervously admitted that we were a few short, and that some kids would have to share. Silly me. I forgot that most people here are lucky to share three to a bed, if not, three to a hammock... so sharing two to a sleeping bag caused no complaints. Makes me think Americans can be just a little fussy with their king-size posturepedic beds with six pillows and an eyemask...

FLOP: I assigned different charlas (do you remember what these are...) to each volunteer. Mine was all about different ways if how to manage your trash. One point I enforced and reinforced was, DON'T THROW YOUR TRASH IN THE STREET!

After my charla, we lead a hike- in which we gave snacks for the kids to carry. And whilst enjoying the hike in the protected area, during our environmental camp, they also continued to throw their wrappers in the trail minutes after my charla. Pu chica... when will they ever learn?

RAVE: We built a campfire the second night and introduced the kids to a cherished American dessert... S'MORES. I really enjoyed this part. Most of the kids had never heard of marshmellows- and the fact that you can roast them.... BONUS! They had so much fun burning them, they were fascinated by it. It made me feel like a kid again. And then, when they finally did sink their teeth in... pure bliss. I was happy and proud to introduce this very American tradition, and my oh my, was it a success.


So.... overall, I thought the camp went swimmingly. That even if we didn't transform these kids with a newfound environmental appreciation, that a few might think twice before throwing their bottles in the calle. But more than that, it was a fun, unique experience for all of these kids, many of whom had never spent a single night away from home.

A very satisfying moment was when I got home with Yesica, the only one of the original four girls who I had wanted to go. But anyway, she was foaming with excitement when we returned, spilling the stories non-stop for two hours to Mari and Sulma. Mari was elated... and Sulma... I think just a little bit remorseful for not coming. But hey, what do I know?


Two days ago, April 4th, signified the one year mark of living in Los Cimientos, with Mari, Yesica, and Sulma... and it was the day that I officially moved out. This adjustment has both its pros and cons. I mean, I'll have more of my own space, be able to have guests (PALOMA!!!!), and can cook all of my own food! There also won't be a TV constantly on. But there certainly are some downsides. The room is part of the casa comunal, so privacy may be even more of an issue. My room, although being on the backside, shares a wall with the local tiendita... where a lot of men hang out. I also don't have my own bathroom- there are public bathrooms around the corner that I have to share with, well, the public. And the nearest pila (outdoor sink for all dish, laundry, and bathing purposes), belongs to the house above me, which I have to climb a ladder to get to.

But most of all, I feel like I'm losing my family. I still will visit all the time... but not as a family member, as a visitor. Sheesh.. if I'm this broken up to move across the street, I can't imagine what a mess I'll be in a year when I leave.

And that's all that's left, that's it... one more year.