It’s newly dark. Venus is setting in the west, with the moon nearly beside her. Beautiful. Kids play in the street. They ask me to play with them. we toss around a tennis ball. It’s a windless, perfect night. And it all feels, amazing.
This thing, the peace corps, like life in general, seems to be a series of ups and downs. Peaks and valleys. Tonight, I must be sitting on a beautiful crest, overlook a glorious life. Not as a king, but as an equal.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
i have a lot of farts
i just had dinner. lots of beans. yummy.
walking home, this little kid was just suddenly next to me. smiling. so we chatted for a minute. i asked him how he was. the typical, literal response to that question here in el sal varies but includes: "im there," "im here," "good," "shitty," etc. This kid's responds with enthusiasm. and not in one sentence. he tells me that school was good, he's got a new girl friend, and he's about to have dinner with his family, among other things. im half a sleep on two legs, but listening and enjoying his answer. then he asks me, "and you, how are you, sir?"
i told him the truth, as best i could, in spanish: "I have a lot of farts."
Kid stopped right in his tracks. and so did i, just as i mustered one that shook the houses on the street. slowly, his slightly shocked face turned into the most sincere grin i have seen in a long time. he laughed with his whole body, and so did i, which made me fart more.
as we parted ways, he told me he hoped we would meet again. i told him i hoped so too.
walking home, this little kid was just suddenly next to me. smiling. so we chatted for a minute. i asked him how he was. the typical, literal response to that question here in el sal varies but includes: "im there," "im here," "good," "shitty," etc. This kid's responds with enthusiasm. and not in one sentence. he tells me that school was good, he's got a new girl friend, and he's about to have dinner with his family, among other things. im half a sleep on two legs, but listening and enjoying his answer. then he asks me, "and you, how are you, sir?"
i told him the truth, as best i could, in spanish: "I have a lot of farts."
Kid stopped right in his tracks. and so did i, just as i mustered one that shook the houses on the street. slowly, his slightly shocked face turned into the most sincere grin i have seen in a long time. he laughed with his whole body, and so did i, which made me fart more.
as we parted ways, he told me he hoped we would meet again. i told him i hoped so too.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
a mosquito just bit me on my elbow. w t f ??
my alarm goes off. it's 5:50 am. i could get up. go on a run. come back, listen to NPR, have a banana. or, i could just, you know, lay here peacefully for a few more minutes.
my alarm goes off. my internal alarm. like a fucking gunshot. i sit up, and almost jump through my mosquito net. "oh shit oh shit oh shit." it's 7:20. i have a very important meeting. At 8am, thirty minutes away from my house.
but then i remember: it's el salvador. the meeting will start at about 9:15. so, i relax. and listen to NPR. and have a banana.
by the time i take my seat on the bus, the sun is up, and it's growing warmer, but the morning still maintains a cheerfulness, the day celebrating it's potential.
i walk into the meeting just as it begins. 9:10 am.
and what a meeting. we've recently had local mayoral elections, and present are the new mayors and their cabinets or consejos. the purpose of the meeting is for everyone to understand more about the group they have been asked to join: "U 7," or United Seven. The group is a collection of local government members and civic development groups, working together to benefit the seven municipalities they represent. and there's me. the white kid. some of these people know me, and most have heard of me. and i have a good reputation among them- a strong word.
it's hard for me to convince you why, but the meeting is very much a success. maybe it's because i get to talk to the new mayor and meet his people since he won election. his win was a dramatic surprise to me. and i was nervous as to if they would invite me to work with them or not. so far, i seem to be warmly regarded and have invitation to work with the new administration.
this was cemented by them offering me a ride back to town. we pile into a pickup truck, and i tell a few jokes and tell my new friends my nick name. suddenly, we all seem to be friends.
________
it's now late in the afternoon. i am sitting at a cafe at the side of our park here in town, talking to the woman that runs the place. we've only recently become friends, and it's a friendship that i enjoy, and not just because she gives me wonderfully fresh orange juice, kind of a rarity for me down here. sipping the OJ, i see the people i am waiting for pull up in a car, but they don't see me. i get their attention, and they come over. they're my new students. and we're studying english. they join me at a table, and we talk for half an hour or so. there are three of them. they work together for a large spanish NGO called "intervida." they're all a few years older than me, which is perfect. i don’t have many friends in their late twenties/early thirties. we talk about english classes, and end up agreeing to two days a week for an hour each day. "how much?" they say. "nothing," i reply. "just buy me a beer or two once in a while." this seems like music and comedy to their ears.
we say good bye. they drive away. the cafe owner points her chin in their direction as if to say, "so, what's that all about?" I tell her: "they're my new students." and i tell her that im hoping they will do some work here in town in exchange for me teaching them some bad words and good grammar.
and then my slow, lovely walk home. it's dusk. my two year old friend, eddie, is standing outside his house, watching his world walk by. i say his name in a low voice, like i always do, and his face lights up with a grin as he repeats his name back to me, something he has only recently learned. he then inexplicably turns to his mother and, im not kidding, says a very bad word. we're both so surprised that all we can do is laugh. but then she tells eddie he cant call his mother a whore. that just won't cut it.
and here i am, sitting in my house, now typing in the dark. it's 630, time to go and eat dinner with my neighbors, and flirt with the three daughters.
peace and love. from el salvador.
me.
my alarm goes off. my internal alarm. like a fucking gunshot. i sit up, and almost jump through my mosquito net. "oh shit oh shit oh shit." it's 7:20. i have a very important meeting. At 8am, thirty minutes away from my house.
but then i remember: it's el salvador. the meeting will start at about 9:15. so, i relax. and listen to NPR. and have a banana.
by the time i take my seat on the bus, the sun is up, and it's growing warmer, but the morning still maintains a cheerfulness, the day celebrating it's potential.
i walk into the meeting just as it begins. 9:10 am.
and what a meeting. we've recently had local mayoral elections, and present are the new mayors and their cabinets or consejos. the purpose of the meeting is for everyone to understand more about the group they have been asked to join: "U 7," or United Seven. The group is a collection of local government members and civic development groups, working together to benefit the seven municipalities they represent. and there's me. the white kid. some of these people know me, and most have heard of me. and i have a good reputation among them- a strong word.
it's hard for me to convince you why, but the meeting is very much a success. maybe it's because i get to talk to the new mayor and meet his people since he won election. his win was a dramatic surprise to me. and i was nervous as to if they would invite me to work with them or not. so far, i seem to be warmly regarded and have invitation to work with the new administration.
this was cemented by them offering me a ride back to town. we pile into a pickup truck, and i tell a few jokes and tell my new friends my nick name. suddenly, we all seem to be friends.
________
it's now late in the afternoon. i am sitting at a cafe at the side of our park here in town, talking to the woman that runs the place. we've only recently become friends, and it's a friendship that i enjoy, and not just because she gives me wonderfully fresh orange juice, kind of a rarity for me down here. sipping the OJ, i see the people i am waiting for pull up in a car, but they don't see me. i get their attention, and they come over. they're my new students. and we're studying english. they join me at a table, and we talk for half an hour or so. there are three of them. they work together for a large spanish NGO called "intervida." they're all a few years older than me, which is perfect. i don’t have many friends in their late twenties/early thirties. we talk about english classes, and end up agreeing to two days a week for an hour each day. "how much?" they say. "nothing," i reply. "just buy me a beer or two once in a while." this seems like music and comedy to their ears.
we say good bye. they drive away. the cafe owner points her chin in their direction as if to say, "so, what's that all about?" I tell her: "they're my new students." and i tell her that im hoping they will do some work here in town in exchange for me teaching them some bad words and good grammar.
and then my slow, lovely walk home. it's dusk. my two year old friend, eddie, is standing outside his house, watching his world walk by. i say his name in a low voice, like i always do, and his face lights up with a grin as he repeats his name back to me, something he has only recently learned. he then inexplicably turns to his mother and, im not kidding, says a very bad word. we're both so surprised that all we can do is laugh. but then she tells eddie he cant call his mother a whore. that just won't cut it.
and here i am, sitting in my house, now typing in the dark. it's 630, time to go and eat dinner with my neighbors, and flirt with the three daughters.
peace and love. from el salvador.
me.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
conversations
Ramon
Ramon drinks. A lot. He's also closer to god than most people i know.
He calls me "gringi;" to the english speaker it sounds like GReeengy.
I'm standing outside. It's the middle of the day, in the middle of town, in the middle of life here. He walks by, slowing down as he sees me. and we talk.
He greets me: Gringe! How is the day treating you? Perfectly, i tell him. Really?Me too.
He's barefoot, and has clearly just come from a full day's work in the near-by fields. He's dirty, tired, and grinning.
As if directed by something greater, we both look towards the sun. and then towards each other. He tells me, there is no greater gift than the sun. but tell me this, gingi,where does it the sun go when it departs?
There is no greater cause for humility than being asked such a question.
Well, i don't really know for sure, i say. But, i think that we surround the sun, that we travel around her, though we're covered in darkness during the night.
He's surprised. He says, really?
Yes, i say. The earth travels around the sun. We are not the center, but a small thing, traveling around the light.
He's amazed. As am i.
Well, he says, are there really other worlds?
Again, i am humbled by my friend's confidence in me in his asking me such a question. there was once a time when Ramon was suspicious of me, and would not talk to me.
Back to the conversation, i say: other worlds? Yes, i think there are other worlds, other galaxies, filled with stars that spot the sky. But we cannot see them all.
We continue speaking, both of us with our arms folded, in a comfortable posture, enduring and enjoying our shared sun.
A few minutes later, we shake hands, and Ramon heads towards the shade, his shade, well deserved.
..........
Rosa Linda
Twelve minutes north of here, by bus, is a bustling town. on it's edge is a public, catholic school. on this morning, the school director, a nun, calls me.
Hello?
William? Yes! Might you come and speak with me for a few minutes??
I accept and, a few hours later, i an standing in the entry way of a beautiful refuge, a true solace. i am soon greeted by a short, purposeful woman.
She says: god bless you. thank you for coming. can we have a coffee?
I smile and, accept.
First, she has to make a call. So, i sit. and watch. the children are at recess, and i am swept up in that beautiful inclusiveness of the school yard. Laughter, delight, hope. only too soon does my hostess return, all too easily noticing my envy.
She says: they're my students. aren't they happy? yes, i say, they're beautiful.
she motions for me to follow her. helplessly, silently, i accept.
we walk through the school yard. one student, maybe 8 years old, forgets his crush for a moment, and looks at me with unbelieving eyes. i wink at him, and we share a moment of trust, a moment of recognition of spirit. the music of life stops. in that time, it's just the two of us, sharing a glance, and then the world's chorus comes crashing in, on cue, and life resumes.
recognition. acceptance. and we both move on, his attention towards some dark-eyed beauty, mine towards destiny's brevity.
the library. the chapel. the classrooms. we visit them all. i talk to different groups of students. to teachers.
and then, and urgent phone call. a secretary arrives to tell the director that another awaited visitor is here to see her. she considers me, and tells her friend that it can wait.
such honor. towards me. it feels undeserved.
finally, we arrive to the teacher's lounge. this, the hard part. i have to tell her: i am not an english teacher. and i belong to a different town.
her eyes well with tears. mine do too. she sheds any pride. please, she says, all i am asking is one day a week. you can come, assist the english teacher, talk to the students, play sports, and just, be. once a week, for the morning, this can be your home; i offer this to be your home.
i take her hands, and tell her: thank you. i accept.
........
more conversations soon, i promise.
Ramon drinks. A lot. He's also closer to god than most people i know.
He calls me "gringi;" to the english speaker it sounds like GReeengy.
I'm standing outside. It's the middle of the day, in the middle of town, in the middle of life here. He walks by, slowing down as he sees me. and we talk.
He greets me: Gringe! How is the day treating you? Perfectly, i tell him. Really?Me too.
He's barefoot, and has clearly just come from a full day's work in the near-by fields. He's dirty, tired, and grinning.
As if directed by something greater, we both look towards the sun. and then towards each other. He tells me, there is no greater gift than the sun. but tell me this, gingi,where does it the sun go when it departs?
There is no greater cause for humility than being asked such a question.
Well, i don't really know for sure, i say. But, i think that we surround the sun, that we travel around her, though we're covered in darkness during the night.
He's surprised. He says, really?
Yes, i say. The earth travels around the sun. We are not the center, but a small thing, traveling around the light.
He's amazed. As am i.
Well, he says, are there really other worlds?
Again, i am humbled by my friend's confidence in me in his asking me such a question. there was once a time when Ramon was suspicious of me, and would not talk to me.
Back to the conversation, i say: other worlds? Yes, i think there are other worlds, other galaxies, filled with stars that spot the sky. But we cannot see them all.
We continue speaking, both of us with our arms folded, in a comfortable posture, enduring and enjoying our shared sun.
A few minutes later, we shake hands, and Ramon heads towards the shade, his shade, well deserved.
..........
Rosa Linda
Twelve minutes north of here, by bus, is a bustling town. on it's edge is a public, catholic school. on this morning, the school director, a nun, calls me.
Hello?
William? Yes! Might you come and speak with me for a few minutes??
I accept and, a few hours later, i an standing in the entry way of a beautiful refuge, a true solace. i am soon greeted by a short, purposeful woman.
She says: god bless you. thank you for coming. can we have a coffee?
I smile and, accept.
First, she has to make a call. So, i sit. and watch. the children are at recess, and i am swept up in that beautiful inclusiveness of the school yard. Laughter, delight, hope. only too soon does my hostess return, all too easily noticing my envy.
She says: they're my students. aren't they happy? yes, i say, they're beautiful.
she motions for me to follow her. helplessly, silently, i accept.
we walk through the school yard. one student, maybe 8 years old, forgets his crush for a moment, and looks at me with unbelieving eyes. i wink at him, and we share a moment of trust, a moment of recognition of spirit. the music of life stops. in that time, it's just the two of us, sharing a glance, and then the world's chorus comes crashing in, on cue, and life resumes.
recognition. acceptance. and we both move on, his attention towards some dark-eyed beauty, mine towards destiny's brevity.
the library. the chapel. the classrooms. we visit them all. i talk to different groups of students. to teachers.
and then, and urgent phone call. a secretary arrives to tell the director that another awaited visitor is here to see her. she considers me, and tells her friend that it can wait.
such honor. towards me. it feels undeserved.
finally, we arrive to the teacher's lounge. this, the hard part. i have to tell her: i am not an english teacher. and i belong to a different town.
her eyes well with tears. mine do too. she sheds any pride. please, she says, all i am asking is one day a week. you can come, assist the english teacher, talk to the students, play sports, and just, be. once a week, for the morning, this can be your home; i offer this to be your home.
i take her hands, and tell her: thank you. i accept.
........
more conversations soon, i promise.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
big dicks and hearing aids.
last night, i wrote about a good friend of mine, this mostly deaf/mute kid that i consider a good friend.
amazingly, i am anticipating his arrival tonight or tomorrow, so that he may hear what my voice sounds like.
i was in the mayor's office today, talking to a friend of mine, when she told me that the little boy was being given a small operation to implant hearing devices- an expensive procedure- to help his hearing. how cool is that?
what else??
i just had dinner with a few friends. we ate pupusas, drank a little rum, and talked shop. one friend with me there is a lawyer, and the other a good shit-talker, like myself, so the conversation was good. we talked politics, gossiped, and joked around. the joker and i have a running, inside joke. i don’t know how it developed, but he likes to call me "big dick." yes, i know, ridiculous. it makes my day every time i see him. he extends his right arm in greeting, and i return the gesture, a greeting within the brotherhood of bigdicks.
tonight, as i walked away, satisfied from the good company and food, i looked back before stepping into my house. i could barely see my friends down the road, but i could see the joker, and his extended right arm. i returned the signal, and could hear the good-hearted laughter, even from two blocks away.
amazingly, i am anticipating his arrival tonight or tomorrow, so that he may hear what my voice sounds like.
i was in the mayor's office today, talking to a friend of mine, when she told me that the little boy was being given a small operation to implant hearing devices- an expensive procedure- to help his hearing. how cool is that?
what else??
i just had dinner with a few friends. we ate pupusas, drank a little rum, and talked shop. one friend with me there is a lawyer, and the other a good shit-talker, like myself, so the conversation was good. we talked politics, gossiped, and joked around. the joker and i have a running, inside joke. i don’t know how it developed, but he likes to call me "big dick." yes, i know, ridiculous. it makes my day every time i see him. he extends his right arm in greeting, and i return the gesture, a greeting within the brotherhood of bigdicks.
tonight, as i walked away, satisfied from the good company and food, i looked back before stepping into my house. i could barely see my friends down the road, but i could see the joker, and his extended right arm. i returned the signal, and could hear the good-hearted laughter, even from two blocks away.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
thanks, kid.
a knock at my door. a short list of people runs through my head. i open up, and there he is, though he wasn't on the list.
i forget his name. i'd ask him, but he wouldn't tell me, because he can't. he's mostly deaf, and mostly mute. but very smart. we have this running joke. he shows up at my door a few nights a week, on his way home from somewhere, and when i open the door, he makes the sound of, something, like an animal, and i look around in fear with a ridiculous look on my face. then, we both laugh. tonight, we didnt play. we just hung out for a few minutes, together taking in the town around us. such a good kid. i often see him running around town with one or two of his many friends. always smiling, always content. he's probably 7 or 8, less than half my height. black hair, big eyes, white teeth, and, clearly, a big heart. tonight, he, well, i was feeling sad and he, he smiled at me, telling me it would all be ok. so, i gave him some fruit, making his smile wider. the night lit up around us, and he waved and ran away.
i forget his name. i'd ask him, but he wouldn't tell me, because he can't. he's mostly deaf, and mostly mute. but very smart. we have this running joke. he shows up at my door a few nights a week, on his way home from somewhere, and when i open the door, he makes the sound of, something, like an animal, and i look around in fear with a ridiculous look on my face. then, we both laugh. tonight, we didnt play. we just hung out for a few minutes, together taking in the town around us. such a good kid. i often see him running around town with one or two of his many friends. always smiling, always content. he's probably 7 or 8, less than half my height. black hair, big eyes, white teeth, and, clearly, a big heart. tonight, he, well, i was feeling sad and he, he smiled at me, telling me it would all be ok. so, i gave him some fruit, making his smile wider. the night lit up around us, and he waved and ran away.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Election Day
i was sitting here when it happened, at my table. Doing something unimportant, something to occupy my time, i was half listening to the outside world. And then, it happened.
The election ended.
People shouting, a chorus of unmistakable joy. Those of us inside our houses drifted deliberately to our doorsteps. Such important news slows you down, like it might disappear if not handled delicately. Amazing. I watched the reaction of countless neighbors, their feelings so readily available on their faces as the winning party celebrated an upset victory. This was the mayoral election. And the left had won. I played the sympathetic friend, nodding my head solemnly, or shaking hands with a mild, celebratory firmness unseen.
Earlier in the day, i decided that i would not hide in my house any longer. No sir. i walked up to the local school, with the lowest possible profile, and witnessed the wonder that is Latin-American democracy.
Paper ballots. cardboard ballot boxes. neighbors, separated by plywood walls and political affiliations, greeting each other warmly. because that's what neighbors do. truthfully, i was amazed at how calm and collected everyone seemed. it was the right time of day to be there. there were other, more intense hours. but i was in no danger, and was greeted by most. i stood around. kept to myself mostly. and thanked god for democracy.
i wasn't expecting this. i thought i would be working with the incumbent mayor here for my remaining 15 months. i had hopes and expectations and plans. and now, well, now i will be working with an office full of new people. it begins on May first, my time with the new mayor and his people.
honestly, after thinking about it for 25 hours, im excited. a new beginning. are there many more precious things in life? in this line of work, you have to be an optimist.
in other news, i hung my new hammock in my house, and plan on watching our new President take an Oath to Country tomorrow.
and, like always, it's a beautiful night outside. "We were born in the night. In her, we live." M.C.
The election ended.
People shouting, a chorus of unmistakable joy. Those of us inside our houses drifted deliberately to our doorsteps. Such important news slows you down, like it might disappear if not handled delicately. Amazing. I watched the reaction of countless neighbors, their feelings so readily available on their faces as the winning party celebrated an upset victory. This was the mayoral election. And the left had won. I played the sympathetic friend, nodding my head solemnly, or shaking hands with a mild, celebratory firmness unseen.
Earlier in the day, i decided that i would not hide in my house any longer. No sir. i walked up to the local school, with the lowest possible profile, and witnessed the wonder that is Latin-American democracy.
Paper ballots. cardboard ballot boxes. neighbors, separated by plywood walls and political affiliations, greeting each other warmly. because that's what neighbors do. truthfully, i was amazed at how calm and collected everyone seemed. it was the right time of day to be there. there were other, more intense hours. but i was in no danger, and was greeted by most. i stood around. kept to myself mostly. and thanked god for democracy.
i wasn't expecting this. i thought i would be working with the incumbent mayor here for my remaining 15 months. i had hopes and expectations and plans. and now, well, now i will be working with an office full of new people. it begins on May first, my time with the new mayor and his people.
honestly, after thinking about it for 25 hours, im excited. a new beginning. are there many more precious things in life? in this line of work, you have to be an optimist.
in other news, i hung my new hammock in my house, and plan on watching our new President take an Oath to Country tomorrow.
and, like always, it's a beautiful night outside. "We were born in the night. In her, we live." M.C.
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