Flexibility

“Are you flexible? How well do you work without structure or direction?” I remember when I was applying for the Peace Corps and these questions were asked during the interview. What my recruiter was trying to tell me was that if I am not EXTREMELY flexible, I will never make it through 2 years of service because there is absolutely NO structure and nothing will go as initially planned. I still don´t know if I can make it 2 years without Haagen Dazs Coffee ice cream at least once a day…but I have learned to accept the local Neveria´s offerings. So, Yes, I can be flexible. In other ways too…

Saturday I was supposed to meet with my Artesania group to discuss our Business Plan. I woke up early and had it all planned out…spent the time to lookup all these technical terms in Spanish. Low and behold, come 2pm…3pm…4…no one showed up. It was semi-expected since it was pouring and people don’t like to leave their house when it rains. I don’t blame them since it takes me about 20 mins to walk 20 feet through the swamp that used to be the road to the Community House. Can someone send me a pair of boots?

But since my meeting was a complete failure, I did get to watch the entire USA-Ghana game… I got to watch the 4-6 open shots on goal the US had and every single one miss. About halfway through the game, the storm picked up and the signal went from fuzzy to barely visible and I got a headache as I scooted my plastic chair up inches from the screen and frantically tried to distinguish between static dots and the ball. I heard the “GOOOOOOL!!!!!” about 10 seconds before I could actually see who it was that scored in the overtime and my heart raced in that time before it plummeted in my stomach when I saw Ghana cheering in a huddle. Well, at least I won’t get anymore headaches from sitting in front of that television…

Sunday morning was spent sweeping out my house and throwing water. A peaceful Yoga session interrupted by 17 neighborhood children walking into my house, attempting a Half Moon pose and wandering back out, bored and confused. Organizing the hundreds of books, notebooks, magazines, papers, folders I’ve accumulated in 5 months. Fixing the plastic walls of my shower. And waiting for the rain to stop. Eventually, at 3:30pm, it subsided and I decided I was going to get my garden started. Phase 1: make organic compost. The real reason I decided to start the garden on this particular day was that my bag of fruit and vegetable peelings was near overflowing and the fruit flies had begun to form their own army. So Nina Edith lended me a few machetes, a shovel…and 5 of her children…(all under the age of 12 –but hey, it was voluntary) and we went to work in my hard. At first I felt bad that these 9 year olds were machete-ing my overgrown lawn but then I saw their faces light up when I said we needed to collect animal poo poo, so I let them go at it. It was a sight to see… 5 little smiling girls and boys, sprinting into my neighbors yard, bare-handed, scooping up cow and horse dung. And running back to me like I was their proud Mama. I did kinda feel that way…

And Yesterday I woke up early to head into town. I had to use the internet before my interview with the Mayor. I got my research done and walked into his office where I waited almost an hour. Then our meeting started. I asked 1.5 questions before someone else walked in to get him to sign something. Followed by another 7 people and 13 more phone calls before I got to question 10. When I asked how his relationship was with my community he took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes and head for 11 seconds before he said “figese que…” which roughly translates into “I’m going to kinda bullshit you right now because, the thing is, I’m going to say what you don’t want to hear”. I assumed this was coming since he is from a different political party that the majority of my community and so he refuses to work with us. As it sounds, it was another very successful meeting.

After that, I took the bus to one of the schools my community uses, where I was supposed to help with a Computer Class. Waited another 30 mins for the teacher Not to show up and then decided to call it a day. I headed home by foot, initially, but after a few minutes the sky unleashed some more fury so I hopped on a passing bus. I jumped off at my counterpart’s house, where the teacher that was supposed to be teaching my computer class was sitting having a cup of coffee. I asked him what happened and he said “figese que…”

I, too, welcomed a cup of coffee and got comfortable in my plastic chair. For the rest of the day I would surrender to the Salvadoran ways and tomorrow I would get back to trying to find a way to organize work in a structure-less society.