Hello Everyone...
First of all, to everyone who has sent me packages, THANK YOU SO MUCH. I know it is really expensive and a pain to do, so I appreciate your efforts to help out mi vida here in El Salvador.
Just a Note...
Anything I have asked for in the past, I do not need anymore. So Please save your money...I´m starting to feel guilty!
Really, the only thing I need right now are 10 pairs of soccer cleats for girls, sizes 5-8 and 12 pairs of shin guards. I am working on seeing if I can get local support here from the mayor, as well as doing fundraising activities with the girls, but it is always a challenge. Currently, we have 10 pairs of cleats and 8 shin guards, but I cannot give them out fairly until I have a set for the whole team! We have temporary uniforms...that are old, worn and oversized, but they are doing the job for now. If anyone has a complete set of at leat 11, for girls ages 12-18yrs, let me know!
If you have the need to throw in something extra... my dog is covered in fleas- if anyone has any remedy for that.
USPS Only Mailing Address Still Same:
Jaime Posa
Barrio Centro
Municipio de Osicala
Departamento de Morazan
El Salvador
America Central
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If you are interested in learning more about El Salvador, I recommend the following movies...usually available in english and/or spanish.
Sin Nombre (¨Without Name¨- English Subtitles) -- about the gangs in El Salvador
Innocent Voices (Voces Inocentes) -- about the life of a child during the El Salvador war
Romero --The life and work of Archbishop Oscar Romero who opposed, at great personal risk, the tyrannical repression in El Salvador.
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Quick Cute Story:
I was at my neighbors house and they were asking me about my trip home. David was asking me, ¨Does Santa Claus really come in the US?¨ Tough question to answer for kids who don´t get gifts. But he was really precious when he said that ¨You think if I write a letter and leave it outside and maybe and animal or something will carry it to the US and Santa Claus will get it and send me and my brothers gifts?¨ 0:)
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
I´m Back
“Buenas Morning”. “Como are you?” Time passed so quickly that I cannot believe that I already flew home, spent 2 weeks lying on the couch wondering strangely why I was enjoying touching a chucho and am now back again eating mangos in one of the few places you can’t find on Google Earth. The only blatant reminder that I was, in actually, alla is the fact that 2 weeks without speaking Spanish has sent my mind hayward trying to form proper sentences.
Home was … home. My friends and I had our annual Cotton Headed Ninny Muggin Christmas Party where we overdosed on pasta salad, cupcakes and Pam’s Grandma’s cookies. Not enough people were wondering where my Stuffed Mushrooms are but I was content on the handful of requests for my “meat pie”—its SALAMI PIE people. Damnit. We played the secret santa gift giving game and although Cate may not invite me back next year for giving a Machete to intoxicated men (?), we all walked away smiling, even the 8 people who went home with a Shake Weight. Concluding the night singing the 12 Days of Christmas, in rounds, was the icing to the pastel.
The next day or two was spent on my couch, ahhh cushions, with a few breaks to walk my dog through the winter wonderland outside or get up to go to the bathroom, ahhhh toilet seats.
Christmas Eve was spent gorging at my Dad’s Sisters house. A 50ft long table where all you can hear is New York Italian accents screaming over each other while waiting for the foot and all you can see when the food arrives are the tops of black haired heads working through anti pasta, shrimp cocktail, crab legs, lobster, linguini….
Christmas morning my Dad made a typical family breakfast of sloppy Joes (?) while we waited for Christina to wake up… We then headed to the living room to exchange gifts while Grandma worked on her 5th cup of coffee. Danielle got stuff for her NYC apartment, I got ant traps. Christina got mascara, I got multi vitamins…Then we headed to my Mom’s brother’s house in Long Island where the food binging continued…
The rest of the week was spent relaxing at home. It was so good to be at my house and so nice to have family around. Grandma entertained me by yelling everytime someone drove up the driveway... “Who’s Here?! Someones here!!!”. It was usually my Dad.
And as the days neared my return to El Salvador, my heart beat faster and faster. Do I want to go back? How will I say goodbye again? But, I neeeed hot water. It’s the night before and I just don’t want to go. So I read over the Christmas card my littler sister, Christina, gave me. She writes like she’s been doing it for years. As if it’s effortless. The words she chooses are not only sophisticated but fit in their places in the sentences like pieces to a puzzle. The message reads like a story that you ease through but keep with you forever. And the note is not written with her hands but spilling out from her heart. She makes me look at the Peace Corps in a new light. She talks about not only reaching out to others, but letting them inside of you. She says how she looks at the look on a stranger’s face when she smiles and says good morning. She says “Lili’s waiting for you”. And I am reminded of something I read in Buddhism—Let The World Be Your Teacher. And I know that I need to go back.
I was blessed to have the two weeks at home with my friends and family, catching up with people I haven’t seen in awhile or spoken to in forever. And I am blessed to be able to return here.
It wasn’t easy. It still isn’t. But….life is beautiful.
Day 1- I walked into a house covered in dust and a latrine full of flies- But, that I expected. A firecracker went off sending the bees in the hive on my house in a frenzy stinging me on day 2 and a spreading rash appeared on my arms on day 3, but that I could have even told you would happen. But no one told me they were cutting my mango tree. I sat in disbelief as 2 men hacked away the branches of my beloved tree, in preparation of the new road that will be passing through my community. This was one of the hardest moments of all. Later, I scoured the ground like a scavenger, not wanting to leave a single fallen soldier behind. Oh my dear dulce mangos.
But joy came in other areas. Two representatives from the US Embassy made the 4 hour trek to visit my community Wednesday. From them I won a grant to provide the materials for my Artesania Jewelry Making Youth Group. I was ecstatic with the turnout and so so so very proud of my kids for the presentation they gave to the Embassy folk. I met with my Girls Soccer Team to talk about re organizing and fundraising and they all showed up, ALMOST on time (!!) and planned their own fundraiser event. I successfully (I think) performed conflict resolution with my counterpart over an ongoing issue and I believe I will soon be picking up a set of new computer for my school. Other than that, I am working on stage 2 of a scholarship to study in a US University for a boy in my community and planning to host a girls tournament next month. All and all, I feel I have had a successful week… but never too cocky to count my pollitos before they hatch.
So I keep trucking along, seeing what else may come my way. They can’t take me down. And I’m not giving up my mangos.
************
If you can’t fly, run; if you can’t run, walk’ if you can’t walk; crawl.
–Reverend Martin Luther King Jr.
Home was … home. My friends and I had our annual Cotton Headed Ninny Muggin Christmas Party where we overdosed on pasta salad, cupcakes and Pam’s Grandma’s cookies. Not enough people were wondering where my Stuffed Mushrooms are but I was content on the handful of requests for my “meat pie”—its SALAMI PIE people. Damnit. We played the secret santa gift giving game and although Cate may not invite me back next year for giving a Machete to intoxicated men (?), we all walked away smiling, even the 8 people who went home with a Shake Weight. Concluding the night singing the 12 Days of Christmas, in rounds, was the icing to the pastel.
The next day or two was spent on my couch, ahhh cushions, with a few breaks to walk my dog through the winter wonderland outside or get up to go to the bathroom, ahhhh toilet seats.
Christmas Eve was spent gorging at my Dad’s Sisters house. A 50ft long table where all you can hear is New York Italian accents screaming over each other while waiting for the foot and all you can see when the food arrives are the tops of black haired heads working through anti pasta, shrimp cocktail, crab legs, lobster, linguini….
Christmas morning my Dad made a typical family breakfast of sloppy Joes (?) while we waited for Christina to wake up… We then headed to the living room to exchange gifts while Grandma worked on her 5th cup of coffee. Danielle got stuff for her NYC apartment, I got ant traps. Christina got mascara, I got multi vitamins…Then we headed to my Mom’s brother’s house in Long Island where the food binging continued…
The rest of the week was spent relaxing at home. It was so good to be at my house and so nice to have family around. Grandma entertained me by yelling everytime someone drove up the driveway... “Who’s Here?! Someones here!!!”. It was usually my Dad.
And as the days neared my return to El Salvador, my heart beat faster and faster. Do I want to go back? How will I say goodbye again? But, I neeeed hot water. It’s the night before and I just don’t want to go. So I read over the Christmas card my littler sister, Christina, gave me. She writes like she’s been doing it for years. As if it’s effortless. The words she chooses are not only sophisticated but fit in their places in the sentences like pieces to a puzzle. The message reads like a story that you ease through but keep with you forever. And the note is not written with her hands but spilling out from her heart. She makes me look at the Peace Corps in a new light. She talks about not only reaching out to others, but letting them inside of you. She says how she looks at the look on a stranger’s face when she smiles and says good morning. She says “Lili’s waiting for you”. And I am reminded of something I read in Buddhism—Let The World Be Your Teacher. And I know that I need to go back.
I was blessed to have the two weeks at home with my friends and family, catching up with people I haven’t seen in awhile or spoken to in forever. And I am blessed to be able to return here.
It wasn’t easy. It still isn’t. But….life is beautiful.
Day 1- I walked into a house covered in dust and a latrine full of flies- But, that I expected. A firecracker went off sending the bees in the hive on my house in a frenzy stinging me on day 2 and a spreading rash appeared on my arms on day 3, but that I could have even told you would happen. But no one told me they were cutting my mango tree. I sat in disbelief as 2 men hacked away the branches of my beloved tree, in preparation of the new road that will be passing through my community. This was one of the hardest moments of all. Later, I scoured the ground like a scavenger, not wanting to leave a single fallen soldier behind. Oh my dear dulce mangos.
But joy came in other areas. Two representatives from the US Embassy made the 4 hour trek to visit my community Wednesday. From them I won a grant to provide the materials for my Artesania Jewelry Making Youth Group. I was ecstatic with the turnout and so so so very proud of my kids for the presentation they gave to the Embassy folk. I met with my Girls Soccer Team to talk about re organizing and fundraising and they all showed up, ALMOST on time (!!) and planned their own fundraiser event. I successfully (I think) performed conflict resolution with my counterpart over an ongoing issue and I believe I will soon be picking up a set of new computer for my school. Other than that, I am working on stage 2 of a scholarship to study in a US University for a boy in my community and planning to host a girls tournament next month. All and all, I feel I have had a successful week… but never too cocky to count my pollitos before they hatch.
So I keep trucking along, seeing what else may come my way. They can’t take me down. And I’m not giving up my mangos.
************
If you can’t fly, run; if you can’t run, walk’ if you can’t walk; crawl.
–Reverend Martin Luther King Jr.
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