Sometimes when I’m writing these blogs, I forget that they are public. I am writing what is on my mind without the intention of offending, pleasing, entertaining, confusing or scaring anyone. I am just writing what’s on my mind. Today, my mind is heavy. So I don’t know how this blog will end up.
I feel like this:
You see that glass of anisette before you? Now you just see anisette. I, on the other hand, because I need to be inside everything I do, see the plant it came from, the storms the plant endured, the hand that picked the grain, the voyage by ship from another land, the smells and colors with which the plant allowed itself to be imbued before it was placed in the alcohol. If I were to paint this scene, I would paint all those things, even though, when you saw the painting, you would think you were looking at a simple glass of anisette.
-Paulo Coehlo, Eleven Minutes
24 year old Maria* was intriguing from the day I met her. She boasted about her 5 year old daughter who is excelling ambitiously in school and just won a dollar for dancing the best at Student Appreciation Day. Maria is beautiful without trying and so animated when she speaks that sometimes you have to remind yourself to blink. She shows up to meetings on time and participates willingly. Maria greets me by my name everytime she sees me. But just the other day I learned about a new side of Maria. She was orphaned at the age of 3 and moved houses a lot with her only sister, growing up without a home. She fell into the hands of an abusive boyfriend who is now the father of her child and owner of her house. She desperately wanted to continue her studies and to be a professional and now she needs to get permission from this man to leave her house, and who knows what awaits her when she returns.
6 year old Saira lives with her grandma and family of her 3 year old cousin, Katie. She doesn’t know her father, who left for the States while her teenage mother was pregnant. The same mother now lives 2 hours away and seldom comes to visit. Saira calls her mother by her first name. Katie is the baby and cute as a button. While Saira is washing dishes, Katie is playing with new toys her grandma brought from the market. When grandma comes home with 2 new pairs of shoes, and Katie likes Saira’s better, Katie gets those shoes. Katie whines and cries for the shoes loudly, but Saira weeps. Saira is quiet and often falls out of the picture. But her eyes light up when you acknowledge her.
I had all of my students write down 3 things they like on the back of their name tags. Many read like this:
-I like to look for firewood for the house
-I like to clean the house (coming from a young boy)
-I like to wash dishes
-I like to spend time with my family
-I like to help my mom
I smiled reading them. I don’t see little Joanna anymore. I see a 7 year old girl, proud to contribute to the family work. I don’t see Erick, but an innocent boy who does not know what “machismo” is and is happy to help with household chores. I see kids who are appreciative, hard-working and beautiful; each in their own way.
I think about how I saw my community when I first, first walked in. I saw a broken road, heard noisy farm animals and smelled burning trash. I felt the dirt floors I walked on and did not understand the language that passed through my ears. I thought to myself, how different this place is.
But now, I see my community. I didn’t see it before. I see the suffering, the struggles and the hardships. I see the longing, the hope and the aspirations. I see the kindness, the warmth and the selflessness. I don’t see Maria and Saira anymore. I don’t see my students or my canton. I see much more. When Maria greets me, I see a strong woman who is lost and asking for help. I see strength and determination in her eyes but I can feel the weight of the chains pulling her back. When Saira runs up and throws her arms around me, I don’t see a 6 year old child. I see a heart throbbing for love. I don’t feel her hug, I feel her relief. I think about people from back home and realize how similar this place is.
It is raining non-stop for day 6 now. I have not seen the sky since last Friday and the past 2 days I have not even been able to see the tree tops. Classes are canceled til Monday. The country is alternating between Red and Orange Alert, while evacuating thousands of people and clearing countless landslides. My road is flooded and my washed clothes still hang sopping wet on my lines. The rain pounds hard on my tin roof, but I don’t hear it.
*The stories are real but the names have been changed.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Independence Day
Tomorrow, the 15th of September, marks Independence Day for El Salvador. Today, I finished celebration #2, and am awaiting #3 tomorrow. As much as I am enjoying this time, seeing my community have pride in their country, I can´t help but think back on my past celebrations of Independence Day in the US. Sitting on the front of the boat with high school friends and my Dad up at the wheel, the Macy´s fireworks sprinking down upon us.
My days pass as usual. Moments of ¨what in the hell am I doing here¨ and moments of gratitude for this opportunity. I quickly looked away as we passed a dead horse, splayed in the middle of the road on our way back from town. I thought about how precious life is. I ignored the graffiti´d walls of the nearby canton and acted oblivious to the whistles from the men lurking in front.
But I turned and smiled at Naun as he yelled ¨Salu Nina Jaime!¨, as I hopped off the back of the pickup, passing a quarter to the driver and grabbing my basket off the dirt road. As the truck left me in the dust, I hesitated upon opening the fence to my little farmhouse. ¨I am so lucky.¨ I thought with a smile as I looked out at the view of the mountains and a trace of a waterfall in the distance. What a beautiful world.
I find myself having numerous moments like this. Moments that make me take a deep breathe and inhale all that is wonderful around me. Moments that make me close my eyelids and take a moment to appreciate everything before me. Moments where I smile from the beautiful thoughts that come to my mind from my precious community in the mountains. Even moments that brings tears to my eyes, but I´m not quite sure why.
I open my tiny square window in the morning to let in some light. I watch silently as Lesli and cousin Kilmer, my 6 year old nieghbors, splash happily through the giant puddles the nighttime rain has left. Their giggles make it impossible for me not to crack a grin and the buckets of ground corn they wear on their back seem weightless. This country holds so many stories...
With the news of a flight available to send me home for Christmas, I find myself spending most waking hours thinking about it. What will I do? What am I going to wear? What should I bring home? Will I remember to throw the toilet paper INSIDE the bowl? I actually started convince myself that this trip was going to be next week, instead of about 4 months away. I am more than ecstatic to see my family and friends, to shower with hot water, to eat a toasted bagel and new york pizza, to curl up on a couch with a blanket, to go running with Sam, to watch a tv...in English...and a show NOT being a soap opera...but mostly, to see my family and friends. I miss everyone so much.
And all the pride that is being spread this week in the name of El Salvador´s Independence Day, makes me all the more homesick. I am so proud to be here during this time and I am also really proud to be an American.
Some other more light-hearted news:
I believe I have acquired myself a new dog. A mangy street hound, also known here as a chucho, has set up shop on my patio-like-area. One day I was doing some cleaning and came across what used to be (before some insect munched it to pieces) a bag of Barro´s dog food. I threw it into the yard, where my new chucho came-a-running. Terribly ugly, I thought, he´s kinda cute, and threw him some more of Barro´s old junk I found. He hung out for awhile, but as the day passed he set out to look for Tramp and the junkyard dogs. Last night, I walked out to find chucho curled in a ball in the only spot my patio roof wasn´t leaking from a massive storm that hit us last night. I smiled. I kinda like my new dog.
My days pass as usual. Moments of ¨what in the hell am I doing here¨ and moments of gratitude for this opportunity. I quickly looked away as we passed a dead horse, splayed in the middle of the road on our way back from town. I thought about how precious life is. I ignored the graffiti´d walls of the nearby canton and acted oblivious to the whistles from the men lurking in front.
But I turned and smiled at Naun as he yelled ¨Salu Nina Jaime!¨, as I hopped off the back of the pickup, passing a quarter to the driver and grabbing my basket off the dirt road. As the truck left me in the dust, I hesitated upon opening the fence to my little farmhouse. ¨I am so lucky.¨ I thought with a smile as I looked out at the view of the mountains and a trace of a waterfall in the distance. What a beautiful world.
I find myself having numerous moments like this. Moments that make me take a deep breathe and inhale all that is wonderful around me. Moments that make me close my eyelids and take a moment to appreciate everything before me. Moments where I smile from the beautiful thoughts that come to my mind from my precious community in the mountains. Even moments that brings tears to my eyes, but I´m not quite sure why.
I open my tiny square window in the morning to let in some light. I watch silently as Lesli and cousin Kilmer, my 6 year old nieghbors, splash happily through the giant puddles the nighttime rain has left. Their giggles make it impossible for me not to crack a grin and the buckets of ground corn they wear on their back seem weightless. This country holds so many stories...
With the news of a flight available to send me home for Christmas, I find myself spending most waking hours thinking about it. What will I do? What am I going to wear? What should I bring home? Will I remember to throw the toilet paper INSIDE the bowl? I actually started convince myself that this trip was going to be next week, instead of about 4 months away. I am more than ecstatic to see my family and friends, to shower with hot water, to eat a toasted bagel and new york pizza, to curl up on a couch with a blanket, to go running with Sam, to watch a tv...in English...and a show NOT being a soap opera...but mostly, to see my family and friends. I miss everyone so much.
And all the pride that is being spread this week in the name of El Salvador´s Independence Day, makes me all the more homesick. I am so proud to be here during this time and I am also really proud to be an American.
Some other more light-hearted news:
I believe I have acquired myself a new dog. A mangy street hound, also known here as a chucho, has set up shop on my patio-like-area. One day I was doing some cleaning and came across what used to be (before some insect munched it to pieces) a bag of Barro´s dog food. I threw it into the yard, where my new chucho came-a-running. Terribly ugly, I thought, he´s kinda cute, and threw him some more of Barro´s old junk I found. He hung out for awhile, but as the day passed he set out to look for Tramp and the junkyard dogs. Last night, I walked out to find chucho curled in a ball in the only spot my patio roof wasn´t leaking from a massive storm that hit us last night. I smiled. I kinda like my new dog.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Doble de Posa
Double Posa has officially ended and I am back to being the sole gringa in La Montana. Having my sister here for a week was an experience that I will undoubtedly remember forever. As I hand wash mounds of ropa, shaking away shards of glass and scrubbing out mud stains, I reminisce on the excitement we shared in just 7 short days. I’m filled with beautiful memories of our time together, yet overwhelmed with the current absence of her presence. My shelves are now filled with foreign food and unread novels, but my second coffee cup is empty at my table in the morning. I am so very grateful for everything my sister brought me, but it was HER that made our time so special and not the tangible amenities she spoiled me with.
I woke up at 3:30am and hitched a ride with my neighbor / landlord at 4am to the town center. I hopped out at 4:30, not a street light around, leaving behind a bottle of water, umbrella and banana in the car; 3 very missed items on a long bus ride in the rainy season. At 5am I waited for bus #2, still in absolute darkness, waiting for the door to open so I could choose my temporary bed for the next 3 hours. Que lastima que a friend recognized me and started up a rather un-entertaining conversation for me at the ass crack of dawn. About an hour into the trip, I politely said “please stop talking so I can go to sleep” and promptly passed out on the window pane. I awoke to the chanting of “terminal oriente, el terminal, terminal!, opened one eye to a slew of buses out the window and slowly prepared myself for bus #3.
I treated myself to a nice breakfast without 1 egg, nor 1 bean, reveled in an ice coffee and an air conditioned restaurant and reminded myself of the few things to be grateful for in the capital. Next, a cab to the shuttle, which was probably 3minutes away and yet cost me 4 dollars. I paid the same price to travel 3hours in the bus from my department to the capital. Again, que lastima. Then, I waited for the 10am shuttle to the airport, which would have been quite a pleasant little trip since I was the only one in there, had it not been for creepy looks and smiles from the driver via the rear view mirror.
Needless to say, I was ecstatic to see my sister emerge from the baggage claim area. My first visitor and family member I had seen in over 6 months, I was shaking from head to toe with excitement. I, for one moment, shared with the Salvadorans the excitement at seeing a gringa and just about whistled. Her backpack bulged like Santa Claus and side by side may have been bigger than her, and yet she came with just the clothes on her back. Fortunately, we had a rental car and I realized just how different the country is with your own set of wheels. The car itself is a long story on its own, but maybe Danielle will like to share that with you….
We headed off for la playa Tunco (that’s a beach) where we enjoyed the sun with friends for a couple of nights. Avoiding bolos walking down the beach, hooka nights and bar dancing, ice-coffee mornings at Dale Dale, learning to hammock and loving Anonas.
Leaving the beach was hard, physically and emotionally, but I was ecstatic to show my sister the community I live in. Albeit we had a few detours, and a 5 hour trip became more of a 9, we made it safe and sound.
We spent Sunday shopping at the morning market. We got some great CDs for 1 dolar, (can you pronounce “dolar” correctly yet?) and made a show haggling for some machetes. Danielle got her first “tipico”, eggs and beans, for lunch and then we crammed the bus to head back to my community.
I introduced Danielle to about 20 families and 20 conversations started the exact same way. “Pero como se parecen! Casi gemelas. Ella es la menor?” Yes we look alike. No we’re not twins. And No, I am not older. I wasn’t convinced that this was an insult…until someone asked if I was her mom.
I then took Danielle to our Adult Literacy Class…and she received a hand-made bag from one of the members (where’s mine?) She purchased the first hammock made by our community members :D and enough jewelry from my Artesania leader to allow him to leave work for the day and hike us through the mountains to the waterfalls. We house visited a bunch of families…of which one killed, roasted with spices and delivered to my house a full chicken. Try the “huevitos” the lady insisted. Questioning whether or not I was about to bite into the chicken’s balls entered my mind but I pushed it out as my cook watched me smiling.
My sister and I spent some quality time talking in my house, which ended in Danielle passing out in the hammock and me going for a walk to buy some stuff to make lunch. And soon we headed out for our next destination. We had to drive across country because I had another few days of training with a bunch of volunteers. She made the most of the time there, although I wish we could have spent the time doing other stuff together. But still, I was happy many of the other volunteers got to meet her.
Parting was hard, and almost a week later, I still gravely miss having my sister around. I still see her awkwardly approaching the hammock, certain its about to topple. I miss the nutella-choco-bananas. I’m still making-up car stories to the villagers. I had to put up 2 extra clothes lines to dry all the clothes we wore. My bed feels bigger than ever. I have yet to convince Freddy that Danielle does not want a long distance relationship with him. 5 community members are making hammocks because they think she will buy them all. After I answer the questions “when did she leave” I have to answer “when is she coming back”. And I long for internet connection in my house so I could flip through the pictures of our time together. It would be easier if the community would stop asking about her! Especially the police…..
I woke up at 3:30am and hitched a ride with my neighbor / landlord at 4am to the town center. I hopped out at 4:30, not a street light around, leaving behind a bottle of water, umbrella and banana in the car; 3 very missed items on a long bus ride in the rainy season. At 5am I waited for bus #2, still in absolute darkness, waiting for the door to open so I could choose my temporary bed for the next 3 hours. Que lastima que a friend recognized me and started up a rather un-entertaining conversation for me at the ass crack of dawn. About an hour into the trip, I politely said “please stop talking so I can go to sleep” and promptly passed out on the window pane. I awoke to the chanting of “terminal oriente, el terminal, terminal!, opened one eye to a slew of buses out the window and slowly prepared myself for bus #3.
I treated myself to a nice breakfast without 1 egg, nor 1 bean, reveled in an ice coffee and an air conditioned restaurant and reminded myself of the few things to be grateful for in the capital. Next, a cab to the shuttle, which was probably 3minutes away and yet cost me 4 dollars. I paid the same price to travel 3hours in the bus from my department to the capital. Again, que lastima. Then, I waited for the 10am shuttle to the airport, which would have been quite a pleasant little trip since I was the only one in there, had it not been for creepy looks and smiles from the driver via the rear view mirror.
Needless to say, I was ecstatic to see my sister emerge from the baggage claim area. My first visitor and family member I had seen in over 6 months, I was shaking from head to toe with excitement. I, for one moment, shared with the Salvadorans the excitement at seeing a gringa and just about whistled. Her backpack bulged like Santa Claus and side by side may have been bigger than her, and yet she came with just the clothes on her back. Fortunately, we had a rental car and I realized just how different the country is with your own set of wheels. The car itself is a long story on its own, but maybe Danielle will like to share that with you….
We headed off for la playa Tunco (that’s a beach) where we enjoyed the sun with friends for a couple of nights. Avoiding bolos walking down the beach, hooka nights and bar dancing, ice-coffee mornings at Dale Dale, learning to hammock and loving Anonas.
Leaving the beach was hard, physically and emotionally, but I was ecstatic to show my sister the community I live in. Albeit we had a few detours, and a 5 hour trip became more of a 9, we made it safe and sound.
We spent Sunday shopping at the morning market. We got some great CDs for 1 dolar, (can you pronounce “dolar” correctly yet?) and made a show haggling for some machetes. Danielle got her first “tipico”, eggs and beans, for lunch and then we crammed the bus to head back to my community.
I introduced Danielle to about 20 families and 20 conversations started the exact same way. “Pero como se parecen! Casi gemelas. Ella es la menor?” Yes we look alike. No we’re not twins. And No, I am not older. I wasn’t convinced that this was an insult…until someone asked if I was her mom.
I then took Danielle to our Adult Literacy Class…and she received a hand-made bag from one of the members (where’s mine?) She purchased the first hammock made by our community members :D and enough jewelry from my Artesania leader to allow him to leave work for the day and hike us through the mountains to the waterfalls. We house visited a bunch of families…of which one killed, roasted with spices and delivered to my house a full chicken. Try the “huevitos” the lady insisted. Questioning whether or not I was about to bite into the chicken’s balls entered my mind but I pushed it out as my cook watched me smiling.
My sister and I spent some quality time talking in my house, which ended in Danielle passing out in the hammock and me going for a walk to buy some stuff to make lunch. And soon we headed out for our next destination. We had to drive across country because I had another few days of training with a bunch of volunteers. She made the most of the time there, although I wish we could have spent the time doing other stuff together. But still, I was happy many of the other volunteers got to meet her.
Parting was hard, and almost a week later, I still gravely miss having my sister around. I still see her awkwardly approaching the hammock, certain its about to topple. I miss the nutella-choco-bananas. I’m still making-up car stories to the villagers. I had to put up 2 extra clothes lines to dry all the clothes we wore. My bed feels bigger than ever. I have yet to convince Freddy that Danielle does not want a long distance relationship with him. 5 community members are making hammocks because they think she will buy them all. After I answer the questions “when did she leave” I have to answer “when is she coming back”. And I long for internet connection in my house so I could flip through the pictures of our time together. It would be easier if the community would stop asking about her! Especially the police…..
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