...to my brother James on receiving his doctorate. Wish I could be there to celebrate with you, but I did the next best thing: told Nelson to dance. The sign says "Felicitaciones, James!" We send hugs from QP!! And rockin' dance moves.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Water
PCV Michelle recently finished a huge water project that included many houses in her community, and several others in three other towns. Quebrada Pastor was lucky enough to receive three 300-galllon rainwater tanks bought with funds from her project. A few months ago, when Michelle offered the materials to me, she asked if I had some families in mind. It worked out that there were three in particular who had spoken to me many times about their struggles with water and wanted to figure out what we could do. They all lived far out of reach of the community´s aqueduct, and two of them drank out of a contaminated spring in which they also bathed and washed clothes. Worm infections were common among the families, and on more than one occasion, they had found a dead animal upstream from where they collected water. The third family lived in another remote part of town, and the spring they used often dried up in the summer. The family often packed up and stayed at their grandmother´s house because there was no other source of water nearby.
Michelle came by last week to help with the tank installations. You can read about her project here. Many thanks to her and the project´s donors for providing an essential resource to three families in QP.
Michelle came by last week to help with the tank installations. You can read about her project here. Many thanks to her and the project´s donors for providing an essential resource to three families in QP.
Latrine project continues
We have reached the downhill slope with regards to the latrine project. We only have about 3 composters and 7 pit latrines to go. It has been a professionally and physically challenging time for me, but it has been the most rewarding part of my service so far watching men transform from not wanting to pick up tools they didn't know the name for, to being able to carry out most of the construction by themselves. And after spending so much time working so closely, my relationship with the workers has become much closer. Work days are filled with jokes, laughs, and openly expressed anxieties about what they will do with themselves when I leave. I feel happy about what they have been able to accomplish and learn throughout the process about initiative, responsibility, and the realities of executing a project like this. Here are some photos of what we´ve been up to.
The Sleepover
My host family, including a 12-year-old brother and 9 and 7-year old cousins, never quite understood why I could live alone. And why I would possibly request to have an entire big house to myself, especially when before I moved in, they used to stay there during the week because it eliminated a 30-minute walk and river crossing on their way to school. It seems ridiculous that I would want to be there alone, night after night, among the witches and goblins that lurk nearby, and in my typical gringa selfishness, had never even once thought to invite them over to spend the night.
So, I finally caved. In my final months, I am relaxing the iron fist with which I have traditionally ruled and letting people, especially the kids, get away with a little more than before. Last week, after my host-brother Kaicer asked me WHEN CAN HE EVER COME AND SPEND THE NIGHT WITH ME, I responded, ''How about Sunday?'' A look of grateful disbelief spread across his face, and I could tell he was thinking, that´s all? All I had to do was ask? I invited him and his cousin, Marvin, and told them to bring their uniforms ironed and ready so they could leave straight for school on Monday morning. He skipped out of my house with a smile plastered to his face, but stopped at the gate to ask, ''What will we eat?''
Feeling particularly generous, the words, ''What do you want?'' tumbled forth, and I immediately regretted it, thinking I would have to go find fish or buy some type of meat that I usually wouldn't prepare. Instead, he said hopefully, ''Rice and a boiled egg?''
DONE. I can do that. ''And for breakfast?''
''Coffee and bread?'' I thought these might by far be the easist house guests I had ever entertained.
So about 5:30 Sunday afternoon the boys arrived with backpacks filled to the brim with books and clothes, and Marvin's little brother, Geovani tagged along. It immediately occurred to me I should have planned something to do in the hours that stretched before us until bed time, but we quickly settled into some easy conversation and Farkle playing. Dinner time came and I busied myself in the kitchen while the boys played outside and started making jokes about how such a white girl could have such three dark-skinned sons. I presented them with their meals, and shortly after, had to get up to boil some yucca because it became obvious that little Geovany is a man of root vegetables and bananas, and did not appreciate my attempts with store-bought rice.
By that time, the neighbor girls had come over and asked if we would be ''doing exercise,'' which is their way of requesting that we do yoga. (I made the mistake of indulging their interest in my yoga magazines a few weeks ago, and am now hounded by daily requests from my little yogis.) Within two minutes, all of the other neighbors had arrived, and I was leading about nine children through a few basic moves. The boys wobbled and giggled, asking ''CATI HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS?!'' as I instructed them to stretch out and reach their hands to the sky in triangle. It was one of the many moments I've had in my service, where I all of a sudden zoom out of the moment, and see what I am actually doing and can hardly contain my laughter. In the Peace Corps you can do anything, including becoming an amateur yoga instructor.
After we took our last vinyasa, I shooed away the riff-raff and offered the boys some hot chocolate, hoping to signal an end to the evening. All of the liquid nourishment I had offered throughout the evening was clearly overwhelming to little Geovany, who stood up to pee through my fence at least half a dozen times. We played cards for a little while, and made sure everyone's uniforms were hung up, and then I tried to get everyone upstairs and settled . They fell asleep right away, and I considered that they settled down a lot easier than most sugar-high-riding American children who stay up half the night, sending pangs of regret and rage through the parents who agreed to host them.
Morning came, and I woke everyone up and went downstairs to put the coffee on. The boys' giddiness from the night before was undiminished as they were visibly reveling in the idea of being in Catí's house and Cati making breakfast for them. Coffee was served with the bread, the boys dressed and scampered off to to school.
A sigh of relief. That was way easier than I thought. Everyone ate, no one complained, fun was had, very little chaos. Until I went up to clean up the blankets where the boys slept, and encountered a sopping, urine-soaked blanket and sleeping pad, which indicated to me that next time, if there is a next time, it is better to err on the side of mild dehydration when it comes to tending to your little guests. Oh well, nothing a little laundry soap and a mild bleach solution can´t fix.
Above: Kaicer, on his 12th birthday in May. Below: Geovany, 7 going on 79
So, I finally caved. In my final months, I am relaxing the iron fist with which I have traditionally ruled and letting people, especially the kids, get away with a little more than before. Last week, after my host-brother Kaicer asked me WHEN CAN HE EVER COME AND SPEND THE NIGHT WITH ME, I responded, ''How about Sunday?'' A look of grateful disbelief spread across his face, and I could tell he was thinking, that´s all? All I had to do was ask? I invited him and his cousin, Marvin, and told them to bring their uniforms ironed and ready so they could leave straight for school on Monday morning. He skipped out of my house with a smile plastered to his face, but stopped at the gate to ask, ''What will we eat?''
Feeling particularly generous, the words, ''What do you want?'' tumbled forth, and I immediately regretted it, thinking I would have to go find fish or buy some type of meat that I usually wouldn't prepare. Instead, he said hopefully, ''Rice and a boiled egg?''
DONE. I can do that. ''And for breakfast?''
''Coffee and bread?'' I thought these might by far be the easist house guests I had ever entertained.
So about 5:30 Sunday afternoon the boys arrived with backpacks filled to the brim with books and clothes, and Marvin's little brother, Geovani tagged along. It immediately occurred to me I should have planned something to do in the hours that stretched before us until bed time, but we quickly settled into some easy conversation and Farkle playing. Dinner time came and I busied myself in the kitchen while the boys played outside and started making jokes about how such a white girl could have such three dark-skinned sons. I presented them with their meals, and shortly after, had to get up to boil some yucca because it became obvious that little Geovany is a man of root vegetables and bananas, and did not appreciate my attempts with store-bought rice.
By that time, the neighbor girls had come over and asked if we would be ''doing exercise,'' which is their way of requesting that we do yoga. (I made the mistake of indulging their interest in my yoga magazines a few weeks ago, and am now hounded by daily requests from my little yogis.) Within two minutes, all of the other neighbors had arrived, and I was leading about nine children through a few basic moves. The boys wobbled and giggled, asking ''CATI HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS?!'' as I instructed them to stretch out and reach their hands to the sky in triangle. It was one of the many moments I've had in my service, where I all of a sudden zoom out of the moment, and see what I am actually doing and can hardly contain my laughter. In the Peace Corps you can do anything, including becoming an amateur yoga instructor.
After we took our last vinyasa, I shooed away the riff-raff and offered the boys some hot chocolate, hoping to signal an end to the evening. All of the liquid nourishment I had offered throughout the evening was clearly overwhelming to little Geovany, who stood up to pee through my fence at least half a dozen times. We played cards for a little while, and made sure everyone's uniforms were hung up, and then I tried to get everyone upstairs and settled . They fell asleep right away, and I considered that they settled down a lot easier than most sugar-high-riding American children who stay up half the night, sending pangs of regret and rage through the parents who agreed to host them.
Morning came, and I woke everyone up and went downstairs to put the coffee on. The boys' giddiness from the night before was undiminished as they were visibly reveling in the idea of being in Catí's house and Cati making breakfast for them. Coffee was served with the bread, the boys dressed and scampered off to to school.
A sigh of relief. That was way easier than I thought. Everyone ate, no one complained, fun was had, very little chaos. Until I went up to clean up the blankets where the boys slept, and encountered a sopping, urine-soaked blanket and sleeping pad, which indicated to me that next time, if there is a next time, it is better to err on the side of mild dehydration when it comes to tending to your little guests. Oh well, nothing a little laundry soap and a mild bleach solution can´t fix.
Above: Kaicer, on his 12th birthday in May. Below: Geovany, 7 going on 79
When they´re not in school...
I make my neighbors participate in American history re-enactments. On this day´s schedule: The Oregon trail! Westward expansion! Sod houses and fur trapping!
Just kidding. These are church dresses their dad made for them. But they look about as thrilled to have them on as they would be to be clearing wagon trails during a winter storm.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Someone else's shoes
The biggest challenge I've faced recently is dealing with all of the people issues associated with the latrine project. At some point in the last few months, a couple of people I was very close to stopped talking to me, presumably over some sin I committed in my efforts to execute this project. I know the root of the issue began because of arguments between the two of them, which somehow spun out to involve me. But how it resulted in the silent treatment from one and angry accusations directed at me, followed by silence from the other. I still don't understand.
I am left thinking, how can this be? I have tried to be fair, patient, and have given people the benefit of the doubt more times than they deserve. How can people be mad at me? But, that is a selfish line of thinking. Of course no one will see it my way. And truthfully, it is unfair for me to feel put upon or attacked when I understand as little about their point of view as they do about mine. After all this time, I still have no idea what they are thinking sometimes. The experience of growing up in an entirely different culture, with different norms, expectations, and ways of resolving conflict acts as blinders that will keep me from ever understanding completely. But I keep trying to figure it out.
To them, I am a white person who has access to a large sum of money for latrines. They are poor people who deserve this money. We are friends and I owe it to them personally. They think that they have waited a year and a half and only now have I produced something worth getting excited about. In their eyes, I am finally fulfilling my commitment to them, giving what is owed.
My rule, among others was that people who work will receive materials for the latrine they solicited. That was the agreement we made in the planning stages. If they do not show up for work days, they lose their rights to the materials. It is the fact that I am sticking to this that is rubbing some people the wrong way.
They are angry because, to them, I am breaking a promise by excluding them. Because we are friends, and I am refusing to help them. I am directing my attention to those who are working and the others feel left out and betrayed. They assume because I am white and from a rich country that they are owed hundreds of dollars of materials. They see my behavior as petty, malicious, and cold. I see theirs as unreasonable and greedy.
What makes it all so frustrating is that to many (not all) of the people I work with, the very idea of sustainable development on which Peace Corps is based is incomprehensible. The idea of earning something, working for it, participating as a community to reach a common goal is still untranslatable. They fall into the same traps--gossip, negativity and complacency that have held them back from progress in the past. However, to them, the lack of progress is my fault. They make zero connections between their own behavior and the potential for positive change. Panama's traditional model of rural development-- giving things out and requiring nothing from receivers, combined with the idea that I come from a country that gives out money in bags from the factory (most people sincerely believe this and think I am lying when I deny it) leaves them with the expectation that they have no role to play in their own development. Someone will do the work for them, and they will benefit from it. Some people don't understand what I am talking about simply because they have never seen a project run this way before.
So although these situations leave me tearing my hair out and feeling at times, like maybe everything Peace Corps is trying to do in these communities is too ambitious, I do have some successes to celebrate. The problems I described are not shared y everyone. Some people get it, at least sort of. I have a dedicated group of workers who are showing a lot of initiative and motivation. The the other day, they finished the blocking on a latrine by themselves and set up the table and rebar to throw the cement floor on top. This is huge. A month ago they had no idea how to build a latrine, how to lay block, or even mix a good batch of cement. They were too skittish to work without my supervision, and even then, stood back and watched me before picking up a tool. Now they are doing the work themselves. People who I haven't worked with very much with in the last year articulate Peace Corps' mission and my ideas more clearly than some of my key counterparts. These are huge steps that they have decided to take.
There are frustrations, hundreds of them. There are just as many disappointments. But along with those there are the rewards, ones I hoped for that are coming true, and a bunch of unexpected others. I am constantly challenged by this experience, and although I wish it weren't this way, I know I will leave here with so much more knowledge gained than I could ever hope to leave behind.
I am left thinking, how can this be? I have tried to be fair, patient, and have given people the benefit of the doubt more times than they deserve. How can people be mad at me? But, that is a selfish line of thinking. Of course no one will see it my way. And truthfully, it is unfair for me to feel put upon or attacked when I understand as little about their point of view as they do about mine. After all this time, I still have no idea what they are thinking sometimes. The experience of growing up in an entirely different culture, with different norms, expectations, and ways of resolving conflict acts as blinders that will keep me from ever understanding completely. But I keep trying to figure it out.
To them, I am a white person who has access to a large sum of money for latrines. They are poor people who deserve this money. We are friends and I owe it to them personally. They think that they have waited a year and a half and only now have I produced something worth getting excited about. In their eyes, I am finally fulfilling my commitment to them, giving what is owed.
My rule, among others was that people who work will receive materials for the latrine they solicited. That was the agreement we made in the planning stages. If they do not show up for work days, they lose their rights to the materials. It is the fact that I am sticking to this that is rubbing some people the wrong way.
They are angry because, to them, I am breaking a promise by excluding them. Because we are friends, and I am refusing to help them. I am directing my attention to those who are working and the others feel left out and betrayed. They assume because I am white and from a rich country that they are owed hundreds of dollars of materials. They see my behavior as petty, malicious, and cold. I see theirs as unreasonable and greedy.
What makes it all so frustrating is that to many (not all) of the people I work with, the very idea of sustainable development on which Peace Corps is based is incomprehensible. The idea of earning something, working for it, participating as a community to reach a common goal is still untranslatable. They fall into the same traps--gossip, negativity and complacency that have held them back from progress in the past. However, to them, the lack of progress is my fault. They make zero connections between their own behavior and the potential for positive change. Panama's traditional model of rural development-- giving things out and requiring nothing from receivers, combined with the idea that I come from a country that gives out money in bags from the factory (most people sincerely believe this and think I am lying when I deny it) leaves them with the expectation that they have no role to play in their own development. Someone will do the work for them, and they will benefit from it. Some people don't understand what I am talking about simply because they have never seen a project run this way before.
So although these situations leave me tearing my hair out and feeling at times, like maybe everything Peace Corps is trying to do in these communities is too ambitious, I do have some successes to celebrate. The problems I described are not shared y everyone. Some people get it, at least sort of. I have a dedicated group of workers who are showing a lot of initiative and motivation. The the other day, they finished the blocking on a latrine by themselves and set up the table and rebar to throw the cement floor on top. This is huge. A month ago they had no idea how to build a latrine, how to lay block, or even mix a good batch of cement. They were too skittish to work without my supervision, and even then, stood back and watched me before picking up a tool. Now they are doing the work themselves. People who I haven't worked with very much with in the last year articulate Peace Corps' mission and my ideas more clearly than some of my key counterparts. These are huge steps that they have decided to take.
There are frustrations, hundreds of them. There are just as many disappointments. But along with those there are the rewards, ones I hoped for that are coming true, and a bunch of unexpected others. I am constantly challenged by this experience, and although I wish it weren't this way, I know I will leave here with so much more knowledge gained than I could ever hope to leave behind.
Skills and knowledge I've learned in Panama that will be useless upon re-entry
1. Cooking without dairy, refrigeration or meat.
2. Lawn mowing with a machete.
3. Bathing and washing my hair with fewer than two gallons of water.
4. Enjoyment of boiled green bananas and plantains.
5. Enough knowledge to get me half way to a medical specialty in tropical infectious diseases.
6. The life cycle of roundworm.
7. Drinking things which in the U.S. are solid foods, ie corn flakes frozen popsicles, oatmeal drinks.
8. Sleeping through crows, screaming children and church hymns sung between 11 p.m. and 5 a.m.
9. Basic masonry.
10. Advanced hair braiding.
11. Essential properties of gravity-flow water systems.
12. Conversational Ngobere.
2. Lawn mowing with a machete.
3. Bathing and washing my hair with fewer than two gallons of water.
4. Enjoyment of boiled green bananas and plantains.
5. Enough knowledge to get me half way to a medical specialty in tropical infectious diseases.
6. The life cycle of roundworm.
7. Drinking things which in the U.S. are solid foods, ie corn flakes frozen popsicles, oatmeal drinks.
8. Sleeping through crows, screaming children and church hymns sung between 11 p.m. and 5 a.m.
9. Basic masonry.
10. Advanced hair braiding.
11. Essential properties of gravity-flow water systems.
12. Conversational Ngobere.
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