Amar lo que Somos

Love What We Are

Banana = banana. Escuela = school. Bicho = kid

As I sit here writing a Spanish review sheet for my adult English class, much of which is consisted of Spanish words that, in fact, do no exist in the Spanish dictionary, I question my presence for the umpteenth time in this chicken-infested countryside of El Salvador.

It is true that I have less than eight months left to salvage this little community from the disaster of which it is not and I am running out of ganas to do so. Let’s face it, in eight months the students of my adult English class will have forgotten 80% of the words (although most likely 100%) they have learned and will once again not know their culo from their codo (in English that is). So, it dawns on me that while I sit here spending two hours translating banana to banana, biembenidos to welcome (Spanish spelling lessons- much more valuable project) and chucho to dog, I probably could be using my time in a more efficient manner. But fret you not, surely one of my fifteen students will successfully enter the states mojado where s/he will whip out my recently typed up review sheet and say “My name is Jaime”…(afortunadamente, my name works for both genders). And so, my project is deemed effective.

But its every now and then that the “Peace Corps moments” prove to be more important than the small, or sometimes large, successes we find in our community projects.

I headed out west this past weekend for a few reasons. One, because if I headed east I would shortly end up in Honduras and my project scope is El Salvador, two because I was invited to some events at the US Embassy and therefore needed to pass through San Salvador and three because I had plans to visit my best friend Chelsea who coincidentally resides in beautiful Chalatenango, the complete opposite side of the county. Celebrating July 4th and also 50 years of the Peace Corps at the US Embassy was nothing more than magnificent…besides for a rude slap in the face as to what life is like outside of the Peace Corps or outside of the campo. (By the way, for those not understanding, when you think “campo” think “the bush”). But what this entry is really about is my visit to see Chelsea.

We arrived in a beautiful little “tourist” town of El Salvador (when you think “tourist” do NOT think “Disney World”) where I ate the most delicious grilled pineapple and vegetable sandwich of my life and spent the afternoon exploring artesan shops and artwork painted with coffee beans. We spent the night at a quaint little $10 a night hotel, where we slept for approximately 3.5 hours and woke at 4am to catch a ride with the milkman (think milkman) on his little motor boat. At 4:30am sharp we were cruising across Lago Suchitlan where soon after I jerked awake as we nearly collided with our first clients (think livestock). Roberto climbed off the little rowboat, strategically causing it to teeter-totter me back to sleep, and proceeded to milk cow 1 and cow 2. Before I could finish my lovely dream of a Chipotle barbacoa burrito, we were chugging off. Yet again, I awoke as we pulled up a skip-and-a-hop away from Chelsea’s house and I smiled at the lovely site, waved goodbye to the milk man, and headed for her bed (think 5:30am).

We awoke a few hours later and stepped outside to enjoy our home cooked platanos and eggs by the lake. Just as the jealousy sit in that my friend lives on the water and takes a boat to get to her site, the sun reflected off the water, blinding me in the eyes and causing sweat to pour out of my forehead. And so goes it, that every rose has its thorn. We spent the next couple of days teaching her youth how to make recycled jewelry, taking a quick tour of the community and the lake, watching families make cheese and chatting the night away.

To know another community is to get to know your own all over again.


It is time to quote Paulo Coelho…
Amar lo que hacemos es transformor la esclavitud en libertad. =
To love what we do is the transform slavery into liberty.

It can be really hard being here and sometimes I think, what have I done in a year in a half? But I see that we are all doing a lot. And sometimes the “projects” we have do not hold enough to show for all the work that we really do.

And when times get hard, I start to get hard on myself. But I do know, that I am trying hard (keyword here if you have not picked up on it = hard). And that is the most I can ask of myself. So I like to change a little what my good friend Paulo writes and instead say...

To love what we are is to transform slavery into freedom.

We often worry about ourselves…how we look, our weight, our clothes, how much money we’re making, the size of our chest or our biceps or our kankles for that matter.

But it does us no good. If we love ourselves, we release ourselves from this sense of entrapment. To be happy with oneself is to feel this sort of freedom that is so liberating it gives you the power to do anything.

When times start to get hard, I take a look at the bigger picture… At communities like mine and Chelseas and how we each have affected the lives within. At how hard I am trying. About how much of myself I am giving. And I feel good.

So as I often go from journal writer, to blog publisher, to story teller, to spanglish rambler, to motivational speaker, I end on this note:

Put your all into everything you do. Do things will good intentions. Find compassion, share it with others and love yourself. Do what it takes to bring out the best in yourself and love yourself without worrying about your imperfections and what others think of you. I believe you will feel liberty.

If not, think…

Vaca = cow, Chavo = friend, Hot dog (replace New York Accent with spanglish) = hot dog (aka hot dawg).