I realize few people understand what it is like to be a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) living in my town. It is very difficult to explain in a simple email or even over the phone. Every PCV’s experience is different, and mine I’m sure is not the norm. Days in my site “Huantar” pass very quickly. Most of the time I am very happy about that. I usually wake up early and go to bed early. Here I will write what yesterday was like for me.
I got awoken by a ruckus upstairs in my house around 6:30am. My host mom wakes up early to start preparing breakfast for the family. At the same time my host dad wakes up, eats and goes to work. For the past year or so my district (my town is the ‘capital’ of a larger area of other small villages) has enjoyed relative prosperity. The mines nearby donate a lot of money to the districts nearby to supposedly develop the area. Many jobs have been created, and people are earning good money. My host dad works building the primary school. I usually stay in bed until 7:30am or so. I could potentially wake up at whatever time I want because I don’t have a time when I start working. I usually wake up early though because I feel a little guilty that everyone is up and about since dawn. After getting out of bed I prepared myself breakfast which usually consists of milk with a little oatmeal, a piece of bread, and some fruit.
Around 8:15am I got a call from my health post. My community partner needed help with some reports he had to take down to the health clinic in the nearby city of San Marcos. So, I helped him doing some very repetitive work until 11:00am. I then ran home to get the supplies I needed to give two educational sessions I had yesterday at the school. I got to the school just in time to start. The sessions were on self-esteem and we did a really cool reinforcement activity where everyone had to write positive qualities you have on a piece of paper with your name on it. In between the sessions I had 45min to eat, so I ran to a family restaurant where I met my friend. I ate super quickly and went back to the school.
I went home around 2:00pm to hand wash some clothes. Most of my PCV friends hate washing their own clothes and take them all to the capital to wash when they come in every two weeks. I don’t mind washing my clothes at all. First, it gives me something to do in my otherwise fairly free schedule. Second, I save a lot of money. To wash two weeks worth of clothes by hand costs me about s/.2 (.66 American cents), and to take them to the capital 6 hours away to wash costs me about s/20 ($7). I would rather hand wash, and not have to worry about taking my clothes all the way to the capital.
I finished washing my clothes around 3:00pm and had nothing else to do. I grabbed a book, a notebook and went up a little hill by the cell phone antennas and read and wrote for about two hours. Made a couple phone calls from up there, and I then went to my plaza and talked to some of my high school friends. A little after 5:30pm I went to see my friend John who I spend a lot of time with after he is done with work. I went to a store where I bought bread and milk, and had coffee with John. We talked for a while, I accompanied him to dinner. Around 7:30pm I returned home. Had some tea, washed my face, brushed and flossed my teeth, listened to some music and went to bed.
I already have my basic routine. It’s pretty simple, and I’m finally getting used to it. It is not that I am not enjoying my experience but I must recognize this is the most challenging and difficult test I have had to face in my life. I usually feel lonely, many times bored, missing my family, wanting to shower, questioning what I’m doing here, wanting to be somewhere else, or simply wondering why the hell I’m crying. I always have an event, or a meeting with my friends programmed every two weeks so I have something to look forward to. I like being in my town, yet sometimes I like leaving it for a day or two. I don’t think that makes me any less of a PCV. I am entitled to feel normal, to be happy, to have fun, to dance, to shower, to eat meat, etc.
I am happy I really am. Nobody said this was going to be easy. I am learning by the minute; not only Quechua, the indigenous language but also about myself, my likes, my dislikes, and the actual essence that makes me human. I’m proud of myself although sometimes I wonder if what I do here actually helps anyone. I’m staying strong, trying to be positive and recognizing life’s little wonders that make everything worth it.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Poverty or Oppression?
Are all oppressed people poor? Or are all poor people oppressed? I have been thinking about this topic a lot lately and must say that my perceptions of poverty have dramatically changed in the past couple of months. Here I try to explain how my former imaginative concept of the poor was dismantled.
Firstly, I would like to apologize to all my friends who are academics who might be reading this blog. You must understand that it has been a year since I last wrote an academic paper and finished my Honors Thesis. My writing skills have become a little rusty, and my arguments might not follow a coherent logic. With that said, I would appreciate any comments or counter arguments to be expressed to my person in the form of letter, email or blog comment.
I am currently reading Brazilian educator Paulo Freire’s work “The Pedagogy of the Oppressed”(1971). Although I admit to not having finished reading it yet it has forced me to star looking at my town with critical eyes. I am a failed anthropologist. After graduation and joining the Peace Corps I became somewhat disillusioned with the discipline. I still call myself an anthropologist but refuse to be one. I loved anthropology so much that I began hating it. Anthropologists observe, not participate. Anthropologists write books, they don’t teach people to read them. I didn’t want to be one of them. I don’t want to sit in an office for the rest of my life and talk about the structure and system in place that oppressed the people that I studied, and know that the people I lived amongst remain the same. I don’t want to be the one who studies why they changed, but be their weapon of change. I say I am a failed anthropologist because in my disillusionment with my discipline I decided not to critically analyze my coworkers, friends and family in my town. I thought that studying, thinking and writing about them was like violating the trust they had put on me.
I am tired of not feeling like a highly rational human being. Today I am making an exception. Paulo Freire, up to where I have read so far, talks about the poor who are oppressed and about how education is the only way for them to escape it. I then think about my town. Most of them if not all, are poor by our standards: they are not educated, don’t earn much money and have a very traditional way to look at the world. These people have never traveled and have little knowledge of the world outside their town. They are poor, not oppressed. Freire talks about the poor and oppressed, never about only the condition of the poor. I agree with him in most of his arguments but wish he would have expanded his argument to the poor who are not oppressed. In my town I see a great difference between those who have and those who have not studied. I can usually have good conversations with educated people about my travels, my studies, music, politics, the world… With uneducated people our topic of conversation is always the weather, and lately I ask them whether or not they have harvested their potatoes. I have started working at the high school teaching the kids and I have felt how refreshing it is to work with them. They are so interested in learning and are very curious about life.
People in my town are poor but not oppressed. They don’t have much money, eat whatever they can afford, and live in adobe houses they build themselves. But they are not oppressed. They are free, perhaps more than I ever will be. At least in my Andean town education is accessible to all, all the way through high school. The school is well staffed and has good facilities. If people wanted they could get an education in my town and then attend university in the department capital if they really wanted and worked hard to get it. Accessibility to education frees these people. The more they know about the world the more they want to continue learning.
If we were to talk about oppression we must directly link it with poverty. If education frees people from oppression, and poverty prevents people from receiving higher education, then these people are only partially oppressed.
Many of these people live like they do because they want to and are happy just the way they are. This is the reality these people know, and anything else scares them. They all want to live better and live comfortably, but perhaps their idea of the optimum comfort level is not congruent with ours. For instance, we might dream to have a house with marble floors. These people dream to have concrete on theirs. We enjoy once in a while indulging with lobster; they do with trout once a week if they can afford it. My host family for instance lived in Lima for a while but decided to return to the “sierra” (mountains) and would rather work in the fields than stay in the capital away from their families in a land where another language (Spanish) is spoken, not their native Quechua.
I met a young man in his twenties a couple months ago on my walk to a nearby community. He really opened my eyes to something I never ever thought.
“My name is Juan. I was born in Chucos, I live in Chucos and will die in Chucos.” That is some food for thought. You can arrive at your own conclusions.
Firstly, I would like to apologize to all my friends who are academics who might be reading this blog. You must understand that it has been a year since I last wrote an academic paper and finished my Honors Thesis. My writing skills have become a little rusty, and my arguments might not follow a coherent logic. With that said, I would appreciate any comments or counter arguments to be expressed to my person in the form of letter, email or blog comment.
I am currently reading Brazilian educator Paulo Freire’s work “The Pedagogy of the Oppressed”(1971). Although I admit to not having finished reading it yet it has forced me to star looking at my town with critical eyes. I am a failed anthropologist. After graduation and joining the Peace Corps I became somewhat disillusioned with the discipline. I still call myself an anthropologist but refuse to be one. I loved anthropology so much that I began hating it. Anthropologists observe, not participate. Anthropologists write books, they don’t teach people to read them. I didn’t want to be one of them. I don’t want to sit in an office for the rest of my life and talk about the structure and system in place that oppressed the people that I studied, and know that the people I lived amongst remain the same. I don’t want to be the one who studies why they changed, but be their weapon of change. I say I am a failed anthropologist because in my disillusionment with my discipline I decided not to critically analyze my coworkers, friends and family in my town. I thought that studying, thinking and writing about them was like violating the trust they had put on me.
I am tired of not feeling like a highly rational human being. Today I am making an exception. Paulo Freire, up to where I have read so far, talks about the poor who are oppressed and about how education is the only way for them to escape it. I then think about my town. Most of them if not all, are poor by our standards: they are not educated, don’t earn much money and have a very traditional way to look at the world. These people have never traveled and have little knowledge of the world outside their town. They are poor, not oppressed. Freire talks about the poor and oppressed, never about only the condition of the poor. I agree with him in most of his arguments but wish he would have expanded his argument to the poor who are not oppressed. In my town I see a great difference between those who have and those who have not studied. I can usually have good conversations with educated people about my travels, my studies, music, politics, the world… With uneducated people our topic of conversation is always the weather, and lately I ask them whether or not they have harvested their potatoes. I have started working at the high school teaching the kids and I have felt how refreshing it is to work with them. They are so interested in learning and are very curious about life.
People in my town are poor but not oppressed. They don’t have much money, eat whatever they can afford, and live in adobe houses they build themselves. But they are not oppressed. They are free, perhaps more than I ever will be. At least in my Andean town education is accessible to all, all the way through high school. The school is well staffed and has good facilities. If people wanted they could get an education in my town and then attend university in the department capital if they really wanted and worked hard to get it. Accessibility to education frees these people. The more they know about the world the more they want to continue learning.
If we were to talk about oppression we must directly link it with poverty. If education frees people from oppression, and poverty prevents people from receiving higher education, then these people are only partially oppressed.
Many of these people live like they do because they want to and are happy just the way they are. This is the reality these people know, and anything else scares them. They all want to live better and live comfortably, but perhaps their idea of the optimum comfort level is not congruent with ours. For instance, we might dream to have a house with marble floors. These people dream to have concrete on theirs. We enjoy once in a while indulging with lobster; they do with trout once a week if they can afford it. My host family for instance lived in Lima for a while but decided to return to the “sierra” (mountains) and would rather work in the fields than stay in the capital away from their families in a land where another language (Spanish) is spoken, not their native Quechua.
I met a young man in his twenties a couple months ago on my walk to a nearby community. He really opened my eyes to something I never ever thought.
“My name is Juan. I was born in Chucos, I live in Chucos and will die in Chucos.” That is some food for thought. You can arrive at your own conclusions.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Friendship in Unexpected Places
We find friendship in unexpected places. I found friendship in unexpected places. I found friendship in Perú. I had this dream that I would arrive in my Peace Corps site and start working right away in things that would ‘change the world’. Have I changed it yet? I doubt it. What I do know though, is that I have changed myself, at least so far. And hopefully along the way I changed a person or two. As a Community Health Promoter I do not feel like I have done much to change my community. As of right now I have not had the chance to do anything meaningful, at least that is how I perceive what I have done here so far.
I have made friends though. Many who I just play volleyball with, and a couple who perhaps I have had the chance to illuminate, if I may use that word, in matters of the world. Here are some of their stories…
One of the first friends I made in site was a fourteen year old kid named Gonzalo.
I think we clicked because I accepted him for who he was. He was a tall, extremely lanky, expressive and at the same time delicate boy. He came from Lima with his sister to visit his dad who is a native from my town. I have two strong memories of the boy. The first of other kids laughing at him for not being able to hit a volleyball. The second of spending time with him and his sister at his dad’s restaurant watching Bollywood movies and trying to imitate Indian dance moves. I remember saying goodbye to him in the plaza, and him telling me that he wanted to travel the world like me. I gave him my cell number when he left assuming I would never hear from him again. How wrong was I! We exchanged a couple text messages before his departure to Argentina with his mom. After a month or so of not seeing each other he made sure to call and say goodbye the day before he left for Buenos Aires. I hope to email him once in a while. I know he will be happy that he made a friend from a country he didn’t even know existed.
The second person I made friends with was Yuli. She works at her dad’s restaurant and their store. I have found myself spending a lot of time with her in the past two months because she is always around. She is studying tourism in Huaraz, our department capital. I can have really smart conversations with her about anything, she is very smart. She is the only person in my town who knows some English, so I try to help her in the conversational level. Right now she is not studying because her oldest sister is no longer around, so she has to help all the time. I tell her constantly to keep studying, and remind her of the importance of finishing her degree. I know she will finish, at least if I stay around and keep reminding her.
The third position goes to my new friend Doña Eulogia. I haven’t talked to her much but I consider her my friend. I remember my second day in site. There was a party in town and she dragged me to the dance floor. It was hilarious and so much fun. A couple weeks after that I interviewed her in her house. So far, she has the most humble house I have had the chance to visit, yet she is the most energetic person in my whole town. Yesterday I was walking to my house when I encountered her. Interesting interaction that was. She was very happy to see me. Then she asked me if I had some rice I could give her, and then invited me to her house for food. I came to her house an hour later with a pound and a half of rice. And left an hour later with a belly full of delicious potatoes and cabbage and having read a full chapter of some religious book she made me read. I listened to her talk about her family, her experiences, and her hopes for the future. She gave up the chance to move to the States with a family from the US embassy because she was afraid to miss her family. Right there we clicked again. I completely understood. With tears in my eyes I told her that I missed my family. “Your mom must really miss you” she said to me. Silence. No words could come out of my mouth. “I know” I thought to myself as I hoped she could not see the tears streaming down my face in her dark ash stained kitchen.
Lastly I have made friends with Cynthia and John, two siblings from Lima who spend their vacations in my town with their family. I leave them for last because perhaps they are the ones I have touched the most. I have had the chance to spend time with them during the last two months, and have had a ton of fun. Cynthia is going back to Lima because college starts up again this week. I never imagined how much I meant to them until yesterday when she gave me a card she made from scratch. It was beautifully decorated and said beautiful things inside. She made me realize that sometimes just offering people your friendship is enough to change who they are. In the letter she says how much these past two months have meant to her, and expressed how much admiration she had for me. It is difficult to find people in the “sierra” or mountains who truly understand what Peace Corps is, but she gets it. Sometimes when I’m frustrated she calms me down by telling me that it is normal to feel frustrated as a Peace Corps volunteer. I will truly miss her here in Huantar, and I look forward to the moment we meet again. I will think of her everyday when I look at my wall and see her card taped to it.
This experience has been extremely hard. It was hard from the beginning and continues to be difficult. I don’t think it will cease being so. Hopefully these friends that I found along the way, and those I am bound to bump into in the future will walk with me hand in hand along the arduous yet rewarding path to December 2010.
I have made friends though. Many who I just play volleyball with, and a couple who perhaps I have had the chance to illuminate, if I may use that word, in matters of the world. Here are some of their stories…
One of the first friends I made in site was a fourteen year old kid named Gonzalo.
I think we clicked because I accepted him for who he was. He was a tall, extremely lanky, expressive and at the same time delicate boy. He came from Lima with his sister to visit his dad who is a native from my town. I have two strong memories of the boy. The first of other kids laughing at him for not being able to hit a volleyball. The second of spending time with him and his sister at his dad’s restaurant watching Bollywood movies and trying to imitate Indian dance moves. I remember saying goodbye to him in the plaza, and him telling me that he wanted to travel the world like me. I gave him my cell number when he left assuming I would never hear from him again. How wrong was I! We exchanged a couple text messages before his departure to Argentina with his mom. After a month or so of not seeing each other he made sure to call and say goodbye the day before he left for Buenos Aires. I hope to email him once in a while. I know he will be happy that he made a friend from a country he didn’t even know existed.
The second person I made friends with was Yuli. She works at her dad’s restaurant and their store. I have found myself spending a lot of time with her in the past two months because she is always around. She is studying tourism in Huaraz, our department capital. I can have really smart conversations with her about anything, she is very smart. She is the only person in my town who knows some English, so I try to help her in the conversational level. Right now she is not studying because her oldest sister is no longer around, so she has to help all the time. I tell her constantly to keep studying, and remind her of the importance of finishing her degree. I know she will finish, at least if I stay around and keep reminding her.
The third position goes to my new friend Doña Eulogia. I haven’t talked to her much but I consider her my friend. I remember my second day in site. There was a party in town and she dragged me to the dance floor. It was hilarious and so much fun. A couple weeks after that I interviewed her in her house. So far, she has the most humble house I have had the chance to visit, yet she is the most energetic person in my whole town. Yesterday I was walking to my house when I encountered her. Interesting interaction that was. She was very happy to see me. Then she asked me if I had some rice I could give her, and then invited me to her house for food. I came to her house an hour later with a pound and a half of rice. And left an hour later with a belly full of delicious potatoes and cabbage and having read a full chapter of some religious book she made me read. I listened to her talk about her family, her experiences, and her hopes for the future. She gave up the chance to move to the States with a family from the US embassy because she was afraid to miss her family. Right there we clicked again. I completely understood. With tears in my eyes I told her that I missed my family. “Your mom must really miss you” she said to me. Silence. No words could come out of my mouth. “I know” I thought to myself as I hoped she could not see the tears streaming down my face in her dark ash stained kitchen.
Lastly I have made friends with Cynthia and John, two siblings from Lima who spend their vacations in my town with their family. I leave them for last because perhaps they are the ones I have touched the most. I have had the chance to spend time with them during the last two months, and have had a ton of fun. Cynthia is going back to Lima because college starts up again this week. I never imagined how much I meant to them until yesterday when she gave me a card she made from scratch. It was beautifully decorated and said beautiful things inside. She made me realize that sometimes just offering people your friendship is enough to change who they are. In the letter she says how much these past two months have meant to her, and expressed how much admiration she had for me. It is difficult to find people in the “sierra” or mountains who truly understand what Peace Corps is, but she gets it. Sometimes when I’m frustrated she calms me down by telling me that it is normal to feel frustrated as a Peace Corps volunteer. I will truly miss her here in Huantar, and I look forward to the moment we meet again. I will think of her everyday when I look at my wall and see her card taped to it.
This experience has been extremely hard. It was hard from the beginning and continues to be difficult. I don’t think it will cease being so. Hopefully these friends that I found along the way, and those I am bound to bump into in the future will walk with me hand in hand along the arduous yet rewarding path to December 2010.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Another note from Peru
At the moment I am sitting in the plaza of my town. I am writing this blog entry as I listen to huaino music and watch how people buy “salchipapas” from our only kiosk in town. The lady who owns the kiosk is real cool. She is the only person I have met in Peru who has my name, well it’s her middle name but that’s close enough. Her name is Domitila Claudia, and every time I pass through she smiles showing her silver teeth and says “good morning Miss Claudia”. She wears a really cool mountain hat htat compliments her round face. Her husband serves as bodyguard almost. Just acouple minutes ago he shooed a dog away with a slingshot. He probably is responsible for having injured the dog sitting on my feet right now which is missing an eye.
This letter was interrupted for a couple minutes because Maruja, a 38 yr old lady who looks sixty came over to talk to me. She is part of the Virgen de Guadalupe groupe who I have joined for their weekly prayer group several times. The group is interesting because their two main tasks are grinding in the Molino, and praying once a week, fascinating combination of work and religious life. I will join them again next week.
Warning: This blog flows like train of thought, so forgive me if it seems choppy.
I am also about thirty feet from my favorite “tienda” or store. I go there to chat and buy my food daily. The couple has four children; a 22 yr old Edith who is a sweetie and I love talking to, Miguel and Yuli who are 20 and study in Huaraz, the capital of Ancash, and Celia who is 6 yrs old. Last week I took something to the siblings in Huaraz and had some delicious mango smoothies with Miguel.
I have two favorite place sin my town. One is the town plaza because everything happens around it: the Municipality, pensiones, the church, school, and tiendas are around them. I enjoy watching people walk around, sit in benches, play volleyball and interact with each other. My second favorite places is the top of my mountain by th cell antenna. It has a gorgeous view down to the carretera or road overlooking snow topped mountains and the river. Sometimes I go up there and spend hours talking on the phone and writing poetry or plays.
I just spent 10 minutes talking to an Italian missionary who lives in my town. His name is Rafael, just like my dad and my brother. He is my age and is real nice. He runs a copper and metal workshop in the parish where kids come learn a trade. I’ve been over to the church a couple times to have tea or coffe with him. He has such an Italian accent it’s funny. Who knows, maybe by the end of my service I’ll be fluent in Spanish, English, Italian and Quechua. That would cool.
The situation in my family is much better now. I think my mom and dad really like me. I keep making food they like which is awesome. I am going to tell them not to cook tomorrow night. I want to make tuna stuffed caigua (a vegetable) with tuna and vegetables. Things are so good that my mom asked me to scratch her back yesterday. The cutest thing is that my little brother and sister call me auntie and keep hugging me. It’s truly adorable.
I will stop writing now. I should probably go interview and survey some people. Until next time!
This letter was interrupted for a couple minutes because Maruja, a 38 yr old lady who looks sixty came over to talk to me. She is part of the Virgen de Guadalupe groupe who I have joined for their weekly prayer group several times. The group is interesting because their two main tasks are grinding in the Molino, and praying once a week, fascinating combination of work and religious life. I will join them again next week.
Warning: This blog flows like train of thought, so forgive me if it seems choppy.
I am also about thirty feet from my favorite “tienda” or store. I go there to chat and buy my food daily. The couple has four children; a 22 yr old Edith who is a sweetie and I love talking to, Miguel and Yuli who are 20 and study in Huaraz, the capital of Ancash, and Celia who is 6 yrs old. Last week I took something to the siblings in Huaraz and had some delicious mango smoothies with Miguel.
I have two favorite place sin my town. One is the town plaza because everything happens around it: the Municipality, pensiones, the church, school, and tiendas are around them. I enjoy watching people walk around, sit in benches, play volleyball and interact with each other. My second favorite places is the top of my mountain by th cell antenna. It has a gorgeous view down to the carretera or road overlooking snow topped mountains and the river. Sometimes I go up there and spend hours talking on the phone and writing poetry or plays.
I just spent 10 minutes talking to an Italian missionary who lives in my town. His name is Rafael, just like my dad and my brother. He is my age and is real nice. He runs a copper and metal workshop in the parish where kids come learn a trade. I’ve been over to the church a couple times to have tea or coffe with him. He has such an Italian accent it’s funny. Who knows, maybe by the end of my service I’ll be fluent in Spanish, English, Italian and Quechua. That would cool.
The situation in my family is much better now. I think my mom and dad really like me. I keep making food they like which is awesome. I am going to tell them not to cook tomorrow night. I want to make tuna stuffed caigua (a vegetable) with tuna and vegetables. Things are so good that my mom asked me to scratch her back yesterday. The cutest thing is that my little brother and sister call me auntie and keep hugging me. It’s truly adorable.
I will stop writing now. I should probably go interview and survey some people. Until next time!
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
After Many Months! Update
Hi everyone! (written on Dec 24th, 2008)
I know, I know! This blog entry has taken forever to be written. Only I am to blame. I had various chances to write it but never did. From September to late November I was undergoing intense technical training, and I seldom found time to go online to write on my blog. Training was amazing; our group Peru 12 is really cool. I became good friends with all the new volunteers, and my host family was a real treat. Swear in was the 28th of November, and from there we embarked in our journey to our new sites.
Currently I have been in my site in the town of Huántar for almost a month. Things are going fine. I cannot say things are going great because it is very very hard to get used to the culture of the Andean mountains. On top of that, it is really tough that I have only been here less than a month and it is already the holiday season. I am writing this entry on Christmas Eve, and there is absolutely nothing going on. It’s very depressing that there are no Christmas lights, no Christmas trees, and no Christmas spirit. Today feels like any other day, which is good because I at times forget that it is Christmas Eve. Tomorrow two other volunteers and I are going to the nearest small city and spend Christmas Day together. It’s the first time I have spent the Holidays away from home, and it is terribly difficult. I keep thinking about how I celebrate it at home and get nostalgic. I know it is a new experience, and part of growing up is going through all of this by myself, but oh man, oh man, does it hurt to think that I am so far away.
My host family is a nut case. I really hope I get used to the living situation or else. My siblings are the cutest thing in the world, but my host mom I don’t think likes me very much. I guess it must be cultural differences, but talking to her is close to impossible. My dad seems like a cool dude; he doesn’t really mess with me much. My room despite being very cold, I can probably get used to.
My town is cool. We have a plaza, a church, a municipality, a school, and a couple stores. The mayor seems like a neat guy. He is working very hard to develop the town, and has been giving jobs to people to rebuild the health post, a school, the plaza and some streets. He comes from Lima, and is very interested in improving life in his district. Last Sunday another volunteer and I went to a meeting at the municipality. There was a discussion group about poverty and under nutrition. The district is starting to follow a national plan to target these problems, and Peace Corps is going to work hand in hand with the program.
The weather will be a challenge. I will probably get sick from colds often during these two years. If it’s sunny it is very warm, and when it rains it drops to the forties. The rainy season is starting now, and when it decides to rain, it rains! It usually rains harder at night which is good, because it helps me sleep more soundly.
Nature is truly magical. People keep saying it’s going to get greener around March but I really don’t see how it could ever get greener than this. The mountains around here are breathtaking. One of my hobbies is to go on hikes and enjoy nature. Everyone in my town has ‘chacras’ or plantations that they go work on during the day. Most people have corn, potatoes, wheat and lentils. It is truly beautiful.
We are celebrating New Years in Huaraz, our provincial capital. We are so lucky to have this place! It truly helps me stay sane. We meet over there every two or two and a half weeks. There are a couple cafes that we frequent and use the internet. There are also a couple clubs that we absolutely love. We recharge batteries for a couple days and return to our sites.
Work is slow. The first month my job was to get to know the town, and start making connections. For the next two months I will be doing a community diagnostic which hopefully will keep me very busy. So far I spend my days either going on hikes with the nearest volunteer or helping out a little at the health post. I spend many hours hanging out in the plaza, talking to the neighbors, playing volleyball, reading, and writing. I have been writing a lot of poetry, and now I have decided to begin writing a play. I don’t have much written yet, and that might be another way to keep myself busy.
That’s a quick summary of my life in Huantar! I really would love if you guys would call my cellphone or if you were to write or send care packages to me. I really miss all you guys and wish that I could call you guys this Holiday Season and tell you how awesome and special you guys are.
Take care everyone! And God Bless! Peace in the New Year!
Claudia
I know, I know! This blog entry has taken forever to be written. Only I am to blame. I had various chances to write it but never did. From September to late November I was undergoing intense technical training, and I seldom found time to go online to write on my blog. Training was amazing; our group Peru 12 is really cool. I became good friends with all the new volunteers, and my host family was a real treat. Swear in was the 28th of November, and from there we embarked in our journey to our new sites.
Currently I have been in my site in the town of Huántar for almost a month. Things are going fine. I cannot say things are going great because it is very very hard to get used to the culture of the Andean mountains. On top of that, it is really tough that I have only been here less than a month and it is already the holiday season. I am writing this entry on Christmas Eve, and there is absolutely nothing going on. It’s very depressing that there are no Christmas lights, no Christmas trees, and no Christmas spirit. Today feels like any other day, which is good because I at times forget that it is Christmas Eve. Tomorrow two other volunteers and I are going to the nearest small city and spend Christmas Day together. It’s the first time I have spent the Holidays away from home, and it is terribly difficult. I keep thinking about how I celebrate it at home and get nostalgic. I know it is a new experience, and part of growing up is going through all of this by myself, but oh man, oh man, does it hurt to think that I am so far away.
My host family is a nut case. I really hope I get used to the living situation or else. My siblings are the cutest thing in the world, but my host mom I don’t think likes me very much. I guess it must be cultural differences, but talking to her is close to impossible. My dad seems like a cool dude; he doesn’t really mess with me much. My room despite being very cold, I can probably get used to.
My town is cool. We have a plaza, a church, a municipality, a school, and a couple stores. The mayor seems like a neat guy. He is working very hard to develop the town, and has been giving jobs to people to rebuild the health post, a school, the plaza and some streets. He comes from Lima, and is very interested in improving life in his district. Last Sunday another volunteer and I went to a meeting at the municipality. There was a discussion group about poverty and under nutrition. The district is starting to follow a national plan to target these problems, and Peace Corps is going to work hand in hand with the program.
The weather will be a challenge. I will probably get sick from colds often during these two years. If it’s sunny it is very warm, and when it rains it drops to the forties. The rainy season is starting now, and when it decides to rain, it rains! It usually rains harder at night which is good, because it helps me sleep more soundly.
Nature is truly magical. People keep saying it’s going to get greener around March but I really don’t see how it could ever get greener than this. The mountains around here are breathtaking. One of my hobbies is to go on hikes and enjoy nature. Everyone in my town has ‘chacras’ or plantations that they go work on during the day. Most people have corn, potatoes, wheat and lentils. It is truly beautiful.
We are celebrating New Years in Huaraz, our provincial capital. We are so lucky to have this place! It truly helps me stay sane. We meet over there every two or two and a half weeks. There are a couple cafes that we frequent and use the internet. There are also a couple clubs that we absolutely love. We recharge batteries for a couple days and return to our sites.
Work is slow. The first month my job was to get to know the town, and start making connections. For the next two months I will be doing a community diagnostic which hopefully will keep me very busy. So far I spend my days either going on hikes with the nearest volunteer or helping out a little at the health post. I spend many hours hanging out in the plaza, talking to the neighbors, playing volleyball, reading, and writing. I have been writing a lot of poetry, and now I have decided to begin writing a play. I don’t have much written yet, and that might be another way to keep myself busy.
That’s a quick summary of my life in Huantar! I really would love if you guys would call my cellphone or if you were to write or send care packages to me. I really miss all you guys and wish that I could call you guys this Holiday Season and tell you how awesome and special you guys are.
Take care everyone! And God Bless! Peace in the New Year!
Claudia
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Uncomfortably Numb
Classic songs are timeless not because of who sings them or because of their incredible music arrangements, but because of how their message reaches across cultures, genders, classes, and generations. I must confess I know as much about music as I know about rocket science. A couple days ago while lying next to the pool enjoying great tropical weather I listened to my ipod which had recently been updated with music with help of my brother. I laid there motionless, anesthetized by the sound of the wind when Pink Floyd’s most famous song started playing: “Comfortably Numb.” I had never heard the song before, and to be honest I thought Pink Floyd was a teenage punk band because my brother has a T-shirt with a weird triangle on it… until the song started.
While in limbo between awake and asleep it began playing. “Hello,/ Is there anybody in there?/ Just nod if you can hear me./ Is there anyone at home?” it began in a spine-chilling voice. I opened my unUV-protected eyes, and looked up. At first I thought it was a joke. What?! It was not the tiny red devil who rests on my left shoulder. As the song kept playing I began to realize the masterpiece of a song that Roger Waters and David Gilmour had composed. It was so different that any other song I have heard before. It starts almost like a whisper on to the listener’s ear, and climaxes unquestionably with one of the best guitar solos ever.
The most interesting thing about the song I believe is how it speaks differently to different people. From the beginning of the song I was certain that being “comfortably numb” was about someone who had lost the ability to feel sympathy, love, sadness, frustration, and all other emotions that make humans sensible beings. When browsing the internet for the lyrics, I found various chat rooms discussing the “true meaning” of the song, whatever that means. I believe that songs, like poems and other art pieces, are on the eye of the beholder. We mostly listen to music but not truly hear what their message is trying to tell us. I challenge you all to listen to songs, hear with your head, and wait for your heart to respond to them.
This song spoke to me, and now just before leaving for my Peace Corps service in Perú it carries a special meaning. I never want to feel comfortably numb. If sometime you start feeling at ease in a state of stoic dullness MOVE. Find meaning in your life, get out of your house, meet people, take chances, do the impossible, challenge yourself to become responsive again. Dare yourself to LIVE again. At this point in my life I’m experiencing torrents of emotions and feelings that call me to action. I love who I have become, and it scares me to death that I will ever become numb. I know that the next two years of my life will make me everything but numb.
Comfortably Numb Lyrics (by Pink Floyd)
While in limbo between awake and asleep it began playing. “Hello,/ Is there anybody in there?/ Just nod if you can hear me./ Is there anyone at home?” it began in a spine-chilling voice. I opened my unUV-protected eyes, and looked up. At first I thought it was a joke. What?! It was not the tiny red devil who rests on my left shoulder. As the song kept playing I began to realize the masterpiece of a song that Roger Waters and David Gilmour had composed. It was so different that any other song I have heard before. It starts almost like a whisper on to the listener’s ear, and climaxes unquestionably with one of the best guitar solos ever.
The most interesting thing about the song I believe is how it speaks differently to different people. From the beginning of the song I was certain that being “comfortably numb” was about someone who had lost the ability to feel sympathy, love, sadness, frustration, and all other emotions that make humans sensible beings. When browsing the internet for the lyrics, I found various chat rooms discussing the “true meaning” of the song, whatever that means. I believe that songs, like poems and other art pieces, are on the eye of the beholder. We mostly listen to music but not truly hear what their message is trying to tell us. I challenge you all to listen to songs, hear with your head, and wait for your heart to respond to them.
This song spoke to me, and now just before leaving for my Peace Corps service in Perú it carries a special meaning. I never want to feel comfortably numb. If sometime you start feeling at ease in a state of stoic dullness MOVE. Find meaning in your life, get out of your house, meet people, take chances, do the impossible, challenge yourself to become responsive again. Dare yourself to LIVE again. At this point in my life I’m experiencing torrents of emotions and feelings that call me to action. I love who I have become, and it scares me to death that I will ever become numb. I know that the next two years of my life will make me everything but numb.
Comfortably Numb Lyrics (by Pink Floyd)
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Random Quotes
Hello my fellow readers!!
My deepest apologies for not having updated my blog. As most of you know I have been quite busy taking care of two groups of 14 and 15 year olds in Spain learning Spanish. I have had a great experience, and cannot wait to go home in a couple of days.
Oh right, almost forgot. I´M GOING TO SERVE IN PERU WITH THE PEACE CORPS. Isn´t that great!? I´m really excited, yet a little scared. I´ll write more in the next weeks as the date approaches.
***********Gear Change********************
I now have a favorite sugar! :) Not because it´s sweet but because of the cool quotes that are on one side of the packet. They are soooo neat that I took like 10 packets before I left the café. Here are some of the quotes (sorry they are in Spanish):
¨...La única diferencia entre un loco y yo, es que el loco cree que no lo está, mientras que yo se que lo estoy.¨ (Salvador Dalí)
¨Los viejos todo lo creen, los adultos todo lo sospechan, mientras que lo jóvenes todo lo saben.¨(Oscar Wilde)
¨La vida realmente no es el tiempo que pasa sino aquellos momentos en los que el tiempo parece no pasar.¨(Susana Urquiza).
¨No hay nada repartido más equitativo que la razón: Todo el mundo está convencido de tener suficiente¨(René Descartes).
¨La vida es breve, el arte largo, la ocasión fugaz, el experimento peligroso, el juicio difícil.¨(Hipocrates).
¨Nunca hagas apuestas si sabes que has de ganar al otro, eres un tramposo. y si no lo sabes, eres un tonto.¨ (Confusio).
¨La diferencia entre lo que hacemos y somos capaces de hacer, resolvería la mayoría de los problemas del mundo.¨(Mahatma Gandhi).
¨Cuando yo tenía catorce años, mi padre era tan ignorante que no podía soportarle. Pero cuando cumplí los veintiuno, me pareció increíble lo mucho que mi padre había aprendido en siete años.¨(Mark Twain).
My deepest apologies for not having updated my blog. As most of you know I have been quite busy taking care of two groups of 14 and 15 year olds in Spain learning Spanish. I have had a great experience, and cannot wait to go home in a couple of days.
Oh right, almost forgot. I´M GOING TO SERVE IN PERU WITH THE PEACE CORPS. Isn´t that great!? I´m really excited, yet a little scared. I´ll write more in the next weeks as the date approaches.
***********Gear Change********************
I now have a favorite sugar! :) Not because it´s sweet but because of the cool quotes that are on one side of the packet. They are soooo neat that I took like 10 packets before I left the café. Here are some of the quotes (sorry they are in Spanish):
¨...La única diferencia entre un loco y yo, es que el loco cree que no lo está, mientras que yo se que lo estoy.¨ (Salvador Dalí)
¨Los viejos todo lo creen, los adultos todo lo sospechan, mientras que lo jóvenes todo lo saben.¨(Oscar Wilde)
¨La vida realmente no es el tiempo que pasa sino aquellos momentos en los que el tiempo parece no pasar.¨(Susana Urquiza).
¨No hay nada repartido más equitativo que la razón: Todo el mundo está convencido de tener suficiente¨(René Descartes).
¨La vida es breve, el arte largo, la ocasión fugaz, el experimento peligroso, el juicio difícil.¨(Hipocrates).
¨Nunca hagas apuestas si sabes que has de ganar al otro, eres un tramposo. y si no lo sabes, eres un tonto.¨ (Confusio).
¨La diferencia entre lo que hacemos y somos capaces de hacer, resolvería la mayoría de los problemas del mundo.¨(Mahatma Gandhi).
¨Cuando yo tenía catorce años, mi padre era tan ignorante que no podía soportarle. Pero cuando cumplí los veintiuno, me pareció increíble lo mucho que mi padre había aprendido en siete años.¨(Mark Twain).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
