Reflections on Year 1

Ten things I have learned after being a Peace Corps Volunteer for one year.

1) I am in control – Peace Corps is probably one of the only jobs where you have complete and total freedom in the work place. If you want to work you will, if you don’t you won’t. The equation is no simpler than that. Any time I feel like I don’t have work it is my own responsibility. I am the employee of no one but my own mind and effort. If I don’t put forth the time and effort IT WILL NOT HAPPEN. The outcomes that you want will only come if you push them.
2) I am NOT saving the world – I never really had that mindset to begin with. However, I certainly thought I would be welcomed with open arms and all my ideas would be eagerly accepted and immediately put into practice. I am the educated American after all. Such is definitely not the case. Hondurans are a ridiculously proud bunch and at the same time the majority is accustomed to hand-outs. In two years I will not single handedly break their pride nor wean them from their ‘poor me’ mind set.
3) The children are the future – In the past year, I’ve felt the best working with youth and children. They make up the future of this country and for them it’s not too late. I soak up every minute I’m with them. They’re still impressionable and I can actually impart some wisdom on them. I can teach them the value of hard work, thinking outside the box and planning for the future. Blowing kids minds with new ideas and killing the stereotypes is definitely the most rewarding part of this job.
4) Respect the culture and accept it for what it is – There is no delicate way of saying this. The culture here is culprit for many of the pitfalls in the society. Women aren’t respected, neither is education. A society that doesn’t respect all members doesn’t respect itself. I’ve come to terms with this. The culture here is male dominated, women are second class citizens and men rule. Fine, I’ll mind my business and you mind yours. Until the women here decide to stand up for themselves and demand equal treatment, the culture and country will stagnate as it is. Education is purely at the whim of teachers when they decide to give classes and not be on strike. Kids are taught they’re not worthy of receiving a decent education and therefore not worth much. What do kids get at that age besides an education anyway? Just another issue that needs to be addressed.
5) Platonic may as well be another planet – Men and women cannot be friends in Honduras. To say otherwise is a complete lie. In the past year I’ve been burned by three men who were merely friends. My crazy American mindset was just far too forward thinking for the machismo male. I am fully aware of the definition of insanity – doing the same thing repeatedly expecting different results. In my second year I am not even talking to a Honduran male unless he is an employee of the business I am visiting, a relative of a friend or happens to be in one of my classes. Life is easier that way.
6) Home is where the heart is – Living on your own in Honduras makes life a million times easier. My first ten months of service I lived either with a host family, in a small studio room where I had to use my landlady’s kitchen, or with a family sharing a room with my future landlady and her five year old daughter. Essentially I’m an only child and for the majority of my life I’ve had my own room with my own space. Living in a different country where the culture is repressive is hard enough without having your own space to escape to at the end of the day. The last two months of living on my own have been amazingly refreshing and have given me an entirely different outlook on life in Honduras. You can take the girl out of America, but you can’t take the American out of the girl!
7) Study aboard is not sufficient to prepare you for Peace Corps life – Sure, I lived in Spain for nine months. They were the best nine months of my life. I lived in a dorm, had my meals in the cafeteria each day and was always surrounded by other people experiencing the same thing as me. Studying to better yourself is nothing like trying to convince people to better themselves by following your ideas and advice. The only thing that can truly prepare you for Peace Corps service and its challenges is living life as a Peace Corps Volunteer.
8) Gringos are my life support – Unlike the study aboard program, I’m on my own in this town. Sure there are approximately 200 of us volunteers here in Honduras, but that’s across the whole country. Without a doubt they are what keep me going. Parties, texts and phone calls with other volunteers brighten my day, encourage me to keep up the fight and are my outlet. No one in the world knows exactly what I’m going through besides another Peace Corps Volunteer. More specifically due to the challenges of this country, a fellow Honduras volunteer. Venting, sharing ideas and positive outcomes of our peers is the best life line for us. If I were truly alone in this, I may have thrown in the towel months ago.
9) I know who I am – My entire school life, from the age of 5-23, I was in Adventist schools. The other kids had similar backgrounds and beliefs. Being vegetarian was normal and observing the Sabbath was what we did. I’ve finally broken out of that bubble and have met people from other backgrounds, religions and beliefs. It’s refreshing hearing their stories and respecting them for who they are. I still know where I come from, what I believe and why. My beliefs are now stronger than before because I’ve discussed them, tested them and debated them with people who would otherwise write them off as ridiculous. It’s refreshing and rewarding.
10) It’s just two years – I chose to serve in the Peace Corps. Honduras was not even a county on my radar of possibilities. When I got my letter inviting me to Honduras, I was disappointed. I had hoped for other countries. Now that I’ve lived here for over a year, I still feel like I got the short end of the stick at times. A Returned Peace Corps Volunteer who served in both Honduras and Bolivia said Honduras is “Peace Corps Light.” The country is close enough to the US that all culture is influenced by the North and the Honduran Dream is getting to the US to make big bucks. The culture tries to emulate that of the US. In Bolivia they are hardly aware the US in a country. Sure, they’ve probably heard of it, but they could care less about emulating the culture and ever dreaming of going there one day. It’s sad to say, but I feel Honduras may never overcome its status of developing country. Heck, they’re still recovering from Hurricane Mitch which passed in 1998. When the country suffered a coup two years ago their GDP was severely affected and many organizations failed when international aid was temporarily cut off. So, in its 50 year history here in Honduras, I don’t know that Peace Corps has been all that great. Sometimes I think we’re just perpetuating the seeking hand out mentality that the people tend to focus on or creating dependence on an educated, motivated American being around. All I know is that in my two years I will focus on making a true sustainable difference where the people I choose to work with will be able to perpetuate the good work even after I’m gone. And I probably won’t tell Peace Corps to replace me with another volunteer. Can’t create dependence for one thing and besides that I’m just too hard an act to follow!
11) BONUS! – Variety is not the spice of life, it is the very essence! The variety of the US is dizzying compared to lack there of here in Honduras. Many things here are either/or options. Catholic or Evangelical. Nationalista or Liberal. Montagua or Olimpia (Real Madrid or Barcelona). Pepsi or Coke. The lack of variety creates a huge divide and strain on the culture. People are always arguing about which is right or better. I miss the US and its variety, acceptance and open mindedness. There are more religions than we can count, there are more sports than just soccer and each league has around 30 teams, trendy brands of water are more popular than soda and well, sadly the political situation is about as lame. The US is just an amazing place and I am so thankful for all that it has to offer.

Hasta la proxima vez...

Not So Super-stitious

Let me preface this blog by saying I am not superstitious. The whole idea really strikes me as ridiculous. Black cats, stepping on cracks, breaking mirrors and Friday the 13th – whatever. Yet, my Friday the 13th turned out to be a real nightmare this year. Read on, if you dare!

The day was great. I prepped for the charla I give on Saturdays, hung out with two of my friends, made banana pancakes and even figured out how to finish the project I’m helping finish for my friend who left me in charge of an important project. That was until the evening when I came home.

Now, it’s summer here and summer means rain, heavy rains. I had just gotten home and it was around 8:30. Then the rain started and came down hard. I was trying to do my Zumba workout which I couldn’t even hear due to how loud the rain was pounding on my aluminum roof. Doing some perfectly performed Samba-like move, I danced to the side and noticed my back room was flooded. I paused my video and ran to check for a leak from the roof. Nope, nada. Instead what I saw was Hollywood-esque special effects of water surging in from under the wall via the soil. Really?! I have the back room papered in an effort to train my dog, so I thought, “OK, more paper!” I laid down a few more sheets of newspaper and tried to continue with my workout. Yah, it was like that saying, “Trying to put a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.” In a few seconds the sheets of newspaper were being carried away by the running water. I panicked – my house was quickly filling with water and I was short a couple sand bags.

Having to do something to save my few precious possessions, I began getting all my things off the ground. Suitcases and pack on chairs and tables, guitar on the book shelf, colchonetas suspended between two chairs and external hard drive up on the table and off the floor. Knowing that my belongings were safe, I called my land lady. The noise from the rain was so loud she couldn’t even hear me. I was just yelling “Hay agua en la casa!”

She hurried over and assessed the situation. Then she disappeared as I was fretting over the rising water. Turns out she was outside moving the old terra cotta roof tiles away from the outside wall of my house, in the tropical torrential downpour. Having to act like I was trying to help I quickly changed out of my New Balance and grabbed my flip flops. It was classic: drenched, throwing the tiles aside while trying to not break them and pleading with God that any creatures hadn’t decided to take refuge there we were in the rain just trying to save our house. (Mine in the meantime and hers in another year.) After all the tiles were moved my landlady found a hoe and started making a trench for so that the water had somewhere to flow to, besides under the bricks and into my house. All that hard work resolved the issue of the water entering the house.

All that was left to do was deal with the water that had already made its way into the house. My bedroom, kitchen and living room were all under a couple inches of water (and mud). But, before I continue my story I have to explain that my house is sunken. As in you have to step down upon entering. In many homes someone could just take the broom and push the water out the front door. Well, not in my house. My landlady and I set to work with my five gallon bucket, a small pail and a Gladware container, scooping water and filling the bucket, team lifting it to dump outside and starting all over again. I’d say we filled and dumped it about fifteen times (around 75 gallons of water). My landlady mopped up what little was left and we called it a night after about a two hour ordeal.

So, that was the story. Not let me point out a few things that would have made the situation a lot worse. 1) Thank God I was home when this happened. Had I not been here, or had left for the weekend, my stuff would have been ruined and no one would have found out until later. Being here I was able to save all my stuff. 2) Thank God Honduran homes don’t have carpet. It would be ruined and clean up that much harder. 3) Thank God there was light. Many times during the heavy rains the power goes out. Last night the power had actually gone out for about 15 min. and when that happens there’s no saying it won’t happen again. Doing all that clean up by candle light would have been just perfect. 4) Thank God my landlady lives about 100 ft. away. Otherwise, I don’t know who I would have called and who would have bothered to come so quickly.

Anyway, that was my event for Friday the 13th. Below is the video I took post clean up so everyone could check out the aftermath.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_hGkhxxUIg&feature=channel_video_title

Hasta la proxima vez…