I've almost been in Sinacar for a year, and I feel like none of the projects I've worked on have come to fruition. However, the little things are what I came to the Peace Corps for, and I feel like I have been richly rewarded. For instance, I wanted to feel like I was living as a part of a community in a foreign place, not just traveling through as a tourist. Now, I know every person's name in a 1 mile diameter from my house, when I go to San Marcos to get groceries, I know and am recognized by my favorite markets and shops, and the neighbors randomly drop in to say hi. Those are the things I'll value most when I leave. Those, and the exciting times shared with other volunteers which seem to be hyper-bonding times because we are so starved for English conversation and humor.
My latest work has been a lot of teaching in the school (math, Spanish, crafts, and natural sciences). I am beginning to give more frequent cooking lessons (women here, and I, love learning how to make leavened breads, pancakes, peeksa = pizza, and cookies). And always in demand is teaching English, both to a group of police and beginning tomorrow, to a young group of guarda bosques (the equivalent would be a park ranger/game warden). The police want to graduate from a continued learning program so that they can graduate to higher pay scales, and the guardas want to learn basic English phrases so they can accommodate tourists in the visitor center. I honestly have lost much hope in anyone learning English from English classes because the classes are not frequent enough and the students don't spend enough time memorizing vocabulary in their homes. However, they love the classes, and I figure that, if nothing else, it might help to develop their linguistic skills.
Again, the biggest rewards are not the projects themselves, but little things like: showing a community that a man can cook; teaching English, in Spanish after only being here a year; or seeing first graders' reading skills improve.
I've molested some of you to pass out a shameless flyer to your churches. The community is building a new church here that will double as a community center. They are about ¾ of the way through with construction, and ran short on funds to seal the bricks with gypsum and put ceramic tiles down for flooring. The Peace Corps is not really about giving handouts, but since the community is already well-invested in this building and it'd be an opportunity for those who like to give to have nearly 100% of their donation go to the said cause, I figured I'd throw a line out. It'd be cool to give them something because 1) it'd show them that people from the US care for them (they idolize the US here), and 2) the money would probably come from ecumenical sources and it'd be a neat way to elucidate the ridiculousness of the Catholic/Protestant divide that exists in this country.
Random:
At a recent meeting with the padres de la familia (a parent-teacher conference), I proposed an idea I had to teach some card games to the kids during their free time. I wanted to teach Speed, King's Corner, Concentration, etc... But when I proposed the idea, it got silent, a few people looked outright disgusted, and finally someone spoke up, “I don't know about this, maybe if it were with different cards, but certainly not if they have Kings, Queens, and Jacks like the kind they use for gambling!”
I started having some crazy dreams, almost nightmares. I sat for one afternoon trying to think of the root of these dreams. Was it something I was eating before going to bed? Something I was worried about? An insecurity? Well, last night I finished the last episode of the first season of Dexter, and I found myself scared of the dark when I went out to the bathroom afterward. I now blame Dexter Morgan.
Sometimes I feel so far from home, until I send a random email, a request for a recipe or a short hello, and that very day I get a reply. Suddenly I feel like it is a connected world. However, when I called Eli for his birthday, I talked for two minutes to a distracted birthday boy, and then got, “Um, Jesse, I'll talk to you later; I have a really big present to open.” And the truth arises; I am far from home.
Ants invade everything in Honduras. Last week I took apart my laptop subwoofer to see why it was crackling and when I opened the back plate, the whole thing erupted with my least favorite, a clearish-red jumping ant (I think that's the scientific name anyway) scurrying trying to hide their eggs. They chose to make their nest in the hollow between the cone of the speaker and the magnet.
And, if you know me, I'm still getting a kick out of myself. The other day, I got someone so good I couldn't keep a straight face. A fellow volunteer, Carly and I were walking out of a mini-super market with a few items including a new brand of Honduran hot sauce I found. A small pickup slowly passed and worked it's way up the water-damaged gravelly road, and the people riding in the box had much time to stare at the gringos. After making eye contact, I casually pulled the bottle of hot sauce out, pretended to unscrew the cap and lifted the whole bottle to my mouth and guzzled as if it were a Coke. Shocked, they nudged and looked to one another to make sure they'd all seen what was happening. When one girl pointed at me, clearly appalled; I lost it.
Last but not least. In a recent meeting with random farmers, their wives and a few daughters, I forwarded a text message in reply to “Hola como sta?” that I got from a 16-year-old flirt who was also in the meeting. The text message said, “Tell me something, do you like me? Sorry to ask, but I notice you're always looking at me. You give me lots of attention. I just wanted to say that I don't think it will never work out...” I wish you could have seen her squirming in her chair reading that message. Even more funny, she quit reading before reading to the end, “it will never work out, even though you're on me all the time, I'm only your cell phone!”
Oh, and before signing out, I want to send a special thanks to Trennda and Liz for the incredible care packages. I use the travel towel all the time now, I relished the sweets, and I'm wearing my new FBI shirt as I type. You can't imagine how miraculously a care package can help quench one's thirst for home (and at the same time ignite a small longing to embrace what you miss as home).
(At Left: Camila and I on a recent "business trip" to Esquipulas, Guatemala where we saw the Basilica and the famous Christo Negro.)
Bueno, vaya baya vaya pues, nos miremos, cheque baya.(rough translation: okay bye).
