So apparently, I am actually one of the volunteers with the best Spanish skills. Which, considering my Spanish skills, is kind of surprising. Some of the volunteers know almost no Spanish... and that I can barely fathom, because I was scared to death of my inadequacy already.
For instance, on Thursday, as we were going to go play soccer, we met up at the office, and then a few people left through a taxi. Then 8 of us were left, and we were trying to fit into a taxi, and we got 7 (5 in the back, 2 in the front... I was the last one to get in the back and was basically half-sitting on someone's leg and half-standing. Pretty proud that I was somewhat able to squeeze in though, lol, with a bunch of people that I had met that day), but there was still one guy in his 20s (who happens to have the same birthday as me! haha. As you can tell, I like those kinds of things) that wasn't ready to squeeze 3 in the front (not sure if that would've been possible anyway). So he offered to go on another taxi, but the staff member with us, Mariel, was like, "You don't know where you're going though." I got out and offered to help, and we eventually decided that we had to take another taxi, and that they would wait for us to flag down a taxi and make sure the second taxi knew where to go.
We flagged down a taxi and I went to go tell the taxi driver where we were going, and he knew where that was, so we piled in and then left. The guy and I talked for a while, just the normal small talk, but about halfway through the ride, I got a call from Freddy, saying that we were actually going to a different soccer field, and to tell the driver to go there. There was a slight mess as the call kind of got dropped, and the name of the field that the driver was repeating back to me was different than what Freddy was saying, so we parked by a park where we saw the other car turn into. The other guy called Freddy since I didn't have a signal, and then passed the phone to me, and then we made sure that this was the right place.
What surprised me about the whole thing was that during the times when the other guy was trying to talk to the taxi driver, he spoke almost completely in English, and I was just like, Wait... what? You were about to get onto a taxi by yourself without knowing hardly any Spanish? Good thing I came along. >_< Had I been in his shoes, I would've probably been petrified with fear and maybe would've asked someone to come with me in the new taxi.
We then went off to play soccer, during which my team won, yay! And people complimented me on my soccer skills despite wearing sandals (I didn't have enough time to change. haha. I did get out of breath really quickly though, and was heavily breathing pretty much the whole game due to the high altitude. I sometimes still find it hard to breath when I'm just sitting down... it's kinda strange). We did have the kid who was here at Projects Abroad doing the Sports program and specifically doing soccer, so that was kind of an unfair advantage... xD Although we were losing to begin with, so perhaps our teams were actually fairly evenly matched. Afterwards, we went out to drink and have some snacks, during which I drank some of the Bolivian beer (pretty sweet and tasty), but failed at pouring because I didn't know to tip my glass and then it just foamed all over the place... so embarrassing. By the end of the night, I was a pro at pouring, though, haha, and one volunteer was like, You learned fast! haha. After about three or so glasses, though, I don't know if I felt buzzed at any point. I mostly just felt dizzy and tired--surely partly due to the soccer game, but still. Did I need to drink more? Did I drink too much? I didn't feel like I was drunk... and I didn't know drinking would feel that uncomfortable... shattered dreams of constant elatedness and such, I guess. I just wanted to sleep after that.
Anyway, back to Spanish abilities. This morning, I was translating for one of the volunteers who's been here at MC for the past couple of weeks, which made her and the staff member, Gastón, really happy, because apparently they've been trying to communicate with each other all this time and couldn't really. aww. She has to do this Mother's Day dance (Mother's Day in Bolivia this year is May 27th), and I was explaining to her what the staff members were expecting. Poor girl... she came to Bolivia from Great Britain with a couple months of on-and-off Spanish classes by a friend of her mom's... and so she's at a pretty basic level. Unfortunately, I guess she has to get by with a lot of miming, and doesn't get to interact too much with her host family, but she does listen to them speak, I guess. Today, for instance, I told her what "entonces (then)" meant, after I used it, and she was like, Man, I hear that word a lot... ah, no wonder. She's starting Spanish classes soon, though, and will be here for another month working with me at MC, so we should have quite a few fun times together, and her Spanish will definitely improve a lot. And I'm more than happy to be of help translating.
Today, I met a volunteer at this host Mother's Day dinner thing Projects Abroad had, who has basically taken Spanish classes since she was little, and is quite good at Spanish. She's from the States as well (the second one of the volunteers that I've met, I think. Nearly everyone else (~15 other volunteers) is from a different country, but I think we're getting few more people from the U.S.) During the couple of minutes that we talked before we left the dinner, we both bonded over the fact that people apparently come here with no Spanish skills and that was absolutely mind-boggling to us, and that we were both rather fearful of our own Spanish skills, but that pretty much everyone has told us that our Spanish is really good. haha. That's a relief. But the comparing with other people doesn't make me feel much better, because I still don't feel that adequate in the language. Oh well--with time, I suppose, things will get better.
I am really cherishing the time I spent in Spanish classes, though, and for the random words that I'm gained over the years. When I was translating for the girl I work with at MC (her name is Alice), Gastón said "preguntándose (wondering, as in wondering about something)," and I felt like I learned that from this random time in either some random class or some random flipping through the dictionary when I realized that preguntar (to ask, as in a question), had a reflexive form, and it apparently meant "to wonder." I remember thinking, "Oh, that's useful, even though I don't think I've ever heard anyone use it", but I remembered it since it seemed useful to be able to say "to wonder." And now, it's actually proving to be useful. =) Kinda cool how that stuff works out.
Also, I've been learning a few phrases in Quechua, since some of the kids in MC understand Quechua and I think that may have been their first language/they respond to it better. So I asked Quechua speakers how to say, "Stand up," "Sit down," "I love you (er, the Te quiero version, not the te amo... although I don't know if there's a difference in Quechua, but everyone has responded by translating it as Te quiero)," and "Come here." One of the staff members at MC also taught me a phrase, which then he told me was a bad word. I was like, Oh.! o_O. Apparently it means "Kiss my a**."
I impressed a host mom at dinner with the Quechua I knew (well, surprised her with that last phrase, lol), and she taught me other phrases, although I only care to learn the ones useful for telling the kids stuff... so I didn't really pay attention when she told me the numbers, or some random phrases. She then told the volunteers she was hosting how I'd been here for only 8 days and I already knew some Quechua words. Kind of embarrassing... but the other volunteers seemed interested, which was good, haha.
That makes me reflect on just the usefulness of knowing languages. I've definitely been grateful for the little bits of Korean that I've memorized or being able to write some of the alphabet when I've met people who were Korean. They seemed to really enjoy the random Korean I knew, and I can see the same interest I would take if someone knew some phrases in Mandarin Chinese.
I guess these are the times I'm glad I'm a linguistics major, because I can read the articles on these languages and really appreciate/understand what the articles are saying. And this past year I've been exposed to language grammars, so I have a passing familiarity with what's expected in a language grammar, and I can read them and understand them. I may not be able to speak the whole language (and the practical side of me stops me from wanting to invest my time in doing so), but knowing such things is nice.
Oh look, this article about Quechua says that "Here's some English words derived from Quechua: coca, condor, guano, gaucho, guanaco, Inca, jerky, lagniappe, lima [bean], llama, pampa, puma, quipu, quinine, quinoa, and vicuña."
Pretty cool.
Also, I just realized that all you blogspoters will know when I'm creeping on your blog because the Bolivia part of your map that says where your visitors are coming from will light up. lol.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Sunday, May 20, 2012
¡Gracias! Excerpts
I've bolded the parts that I thought were a succinctly powerful message for me. Of course, I enjoyed it all, otherwise I wouldn't have taken the time to type it all out, but the bolded parts are my extra favorites.
Page 16 - 18
Page 16 - 18
"Friday October 30
Today Gerry McCrane, the director of the language school, gave a presentation to newcomers. In his gentle and pastoral way he offered us an opportunity to share our struggles in adapting ourselves to a new culture.
One theme that came up was the re-emergence of long-forgotten conflicts. In displacing ourselves into a new and unfamiliar milieu, old, unresolved conflicts often start asking for attention. When our traditional defense systems no longer are available and we are not able to control our own world, we often find ourselves experiencing again the feelings of childhood. The inability to express ourselves in words as well as the realization that everyone around us seems to understand life much better than we do, puts us in a situation quite similar to that of a child who has to struggle through a world of adults.
This return to childhood emotions and behavior could be a real opportunity for mental and spiritual growth. Most of the psychotherapies I have been exposed to were attempts to help me relive those times when immature ways of coping with stress found their origin. once I could re-encounter the experience that led me to choose a primitive coping device, I was also able to choose a more mature response. Thus I could let go of behavior that was the source of my suffering. A good psychotherapist is a person who creates the environment in which such mature behavioral choices can be made.
Going to a different culture, in which I find myself again like a child, can become a true psychotherapeutic opportunity. Not everyone is in the position or has the support to use such an opportunity. I have seen much self-righteous, condescending, and even offensive behavior by foreigners towards the people in their host country. Remarks about the laziness, stupidity, and disorganization of Peruvians or Bolivians usually say a lot more about the one who makes such remarks than about Peruvians or Bolivians. Most of the labels by which we pigeonhole people are ways to cope with our own anxiety and insecurity. Many people who suddenly find themselves in a totally unfamiliar milieu decide quickly to label that which is strange to them instead of confronting their own fears and vulnerabilities.
But we can also use the new opportunity for our own healing. When we walk around in a strange milieu, speaking the language haltingly, and feeling out of control and like fools, we can come in touch with a part of ourselves that usually remains hidden behind the thick walls of our defenses. We can come to experience our basic vulnerability, our need for others, our deep-seated feelings of ignorance and inadequacy, and our fundamental dependency. Instead of running away from these scary feelings, we can live through them together and learn that our true value as human beings has its seat far beyond our competence and accomplishments.
One of the most rewarding aspects of living in a strange land is the experience of being loved not for what we can do, but for who we are. When we become aware that our stuttering, failing, vulnerable selves are loved even when we hardly progress, we can let go of our compulsion to prove ourselves and be free to live with others in a fellowship of the weak. That is true healing.
This psychological perspective on culture shock can open up for us a new understanding of God's grace and our vocation to live graceful lives. In the presence of God, we are totally naked, broken, sinful, and dependent, and we realize that we can do nothing, absolutely nothing, without him. When we are willing to confess our true condition, God will embrace us with his love, a love so deep, intimate, and strong that it enables us to make all things new. I am convinced that, for Christians, culture shock can be an opportunity not only for psychological healing but also for conversion.
What moves me most in reflecting on these opportunities is the they lead us to the heart of ministry and mission. The more I think about the meaning of living and acting in the name of Christ, the more I realize that what I have to offer to others is not my intelligence, skill, power, influence, or connections, but my own human brokenness through which the love of God can manifest itself. The celebrant in Leonard Bernstein's Mass says: "Glass shines brighter when it's broken. . . . I never noticed that." This, to me, is what ministry and mission are all about. Ministry is entering with our human brokenness into communion with others and speaking a word of hope. This hope is not based on any power to solve the problems of those with whom we live, but on the love of God which becomes visible when we let go of our fears of being out of control and enter into his presence in a shared confession of weakness.
This is a hard vocation. It goes against the grain of our need for self-affirmation, self-fulfillment, and self-realization. It is a call to true humility. I, therefore, think that for those who are pulled away from their familiar surroundings and brought into a strange land where they feel again like babies, the Lord offers a unique chance not only for personal conversion but also for an authentic ministry."
Page 18 - 21
. . .
Gratitude is not just a psychological disposition, but a virtue. Gratitude is an intimate participation in the Divine Life itself. The Spirit of God in us recognizes God in the world. The eyes and ears by which we can see God in others are in fact spiritual sensitivities that allow us to receive our neighbor as a messenger of God himself.
This theological perspective on gratitude makes it clear why it is so crucial that we pray: through prayer we become aware of the life of God within us and it is this God within us who allows us to recognize the God among us. hen we have met our Lord in the silent intimacy of our prayer, then we will also meet him in the campo, in the market, and in the town square. But when we have not met him in the center of our own hearts, we cannot expect to meet him in the busyness of our daily lives. Gratitude is God receiving God in and through the human interaction of ministry. This viewpoint explains why true ministers, true missionaries, are always also contemplatives. Seeing God in the world and making him visible to each other is the core of ministry as well a the core of the contemplative life."
Going to a different culture, in which I find myself again like a child, can become a true psychotherapeutic opportunity. Not everyone is in the position or has the support to use such an opportunity. I have seen much self-righteous, condescending, and even offensive behavior by foreigners towards the people in their host country. Remarks about the laziness, stupidity, and disorganization of Peruvians or Bolivians usually say a lot more about the one who makes such remarks than about Peruvians or Bolivians. Most of the labels by which we pigeonhole people are ways to cope with our own anxiety and insecurity. Many people who suddenly find themselves in a totally unfamiliar milieu decide quickly to label that which is strange to them instead of confronting their own fears and vulnerabilities.
But we can also use the new opportunity for our own healing. When we walk around in a strange milieu, speaking the language haltingly, and feeling out of control and like fools, we can come in touch with a part of ourselves that usually remains hidden behind the thick walls of our defenses. We can come to experience our basic vulnerability, our need for others, our deep-seated feelings of ignorance and inadequacy, and our fundamental dependency. Instead of running away from these scary feelings, we can live through them together and learn that our true value as human beings has its seat far beyond our competence and accomplishments.
One of the most rewarding aspects of living in a strange land is the experience of being loved not for what we can do, but for who we are. When we become aware that our stuttering, failing, vulnerable selves are loved even when we hardly progress, we can let go of our compulsion to prove ourselves and be free to live with others in a fellowship of the weak. That is true healing.
This psychological perspective on culture shock can open up for us a new understanding of God's grace and our vocation to live graceful lives. In the presence of God, we are totally naked, broken, sinful, and dependent, and we realize that we can do nothing, absolutely nothing, without him. When we are willing to confess our true condition, God will embrace us with his love, a love so deep, intimate, and strong that it enables us to make all things new. I am convinced that, for Christians, culture shock can be an opportunity not only for psychological healing but also for conversion.
What moves me most in reflecting on these opportunities is the they lead us to the heart of ministry and mission. The more I think about the meaning of living and acting in the name of Christ, the more I realize that what I have to offer to others is not my intelligence, skill, power, influence, or connections, but my own human brokenness through which the love of God can manifest itself. The celebrant in Leonard Bernstein's Mass says: "Glass shines brighter when it's broken. . . . I never noticed that." This, to me, is what ministry and mission are all about. Ministry is entering with our human brokenness into communion with others and speaking a word of hope. This hope is not based on any power to solve the problems of those with whom we live, but on the love of God which becomes visible when we let go of our fears of being out of control and enter into his presence in a shared confession of weakness.
This is a hard vocation. It goes against the grain of our need for self-affirmation, self-fulfillment, and self-realization. It is a call to true humility. I, therefore, think that for those who are pulled away from their familiar surroundings and brought into a strange land where they feel again like babies, the Lord offers a unique chance not only for personal conversion but also for an authentic ministry."
Page 18 - 21
Saturday, October 31
"During the last few days, I have been thinking about the significance of gratitude in mission work. Gratitude is becoming increasingly important for those who want to bring the good news of the Kingdom to others. For a long time, the predominant attitude of the missioners was that they had to bring the knowledge of the Gospel to poor, ignorant people and thus offer light in their darkness. In such a view, there is not much room for gratitude.
As the missionary attitude changed, however, and more and more missioners came to see their task as helping others to recognize their own God-given talents, and thus to claim the good news for themselves, gratitude became much more than an occasional "thanks be to God." Gratitude is the attitude which enables us to receive the hidden gifts of those we want to serve and to make these gifts visible to the community as a source of celebration.
There is little doubt that jealousy, rivalry, anger, and resentment dominate our society much more than gratitude. most people are afraid to make themselves available to others. They fear that they will be manipulated and exploited. They choose the safe way of hiding themselves and thus remaining unnoticed and anonymous. But in such a milieu of suspicion and fear, no community can develop and no good news can become visible.
True missioners are people who are hunting for the Divine treasure hiding in the heart of the people to whom they want to make the Good News known. They always expect to see the beauty and truth of God shining through those with whom they live and work.
The great paradox of ministry, therefore, is that we minister above all with our weakness, a weakness that invites us to receive from those to whom we go. The more in touch we are with our own need for healing and salvation, the more open we are to receive in gratitude what others have to offer us. The true skill of ministry is to help fearful and often oppressed men and women become aware of their own gifts, by receiving them in gratitude. In that sense, ministry becomes the skill of active dependency: willing to be dependent on what others have to give but often do not realize they have. By receiving in gratitude what we have helped others to discover in themselves, we enable them to claim for themselves full membership in the human and Christian community. Only those who truly believe that they have something to offer can experience themselves as spiritually adult. As long as someone feels that he or she is only an object of someone else's generosity, no dialogue, no mutuality, and no authentic community can exist.
[a fascinating idea of empowering individuals regarding their God-given talents that will be important to keep in mind for CCF]
. . .
Gratitude is not just a psychological disposition, but a virtue. Gratitude is an intimate participation in the Divine Life itself. The Spirit of God in us recognizes God in the world. The eyes and ears by which we can see God in others are in fact spiritual sensitivities that allow us to receive our neighbor as a messenger of God himself.
This theological perspective on gratitude makes it clear why it is so crucial that we pray: through prayer we become aware of the life of God within us and it is this God within us who allows us to recognize the God among us. hen we have met our Lord in the silent intimacy of our prayer, then we will also meet him in the campo, in the market, and in the town square. But when we have not met him in the center of our own hearts, we cannot expect to meet him in the busyness of our daily lives. Gratitude is God receiving God in and through the human interaction of ministry. This viewpoint explains why true ministers, true missionaries, are always also contemplatives. Seeing God in the world and making him visible to each other is the core of ministry as well a the core of the contemplative life."
I realized that Zene is actually Rene. lol. Updating his name in all my posts now. I also found his facebook after creeping on his full name from this book that they use to record donations left at the door.
whatever, i'll add him as a friend. Although too bad, it says he's interested in women. =( I was kind of going to purposely be like, "¿Tienes novio?" wait a bit for his reaction, and then maybe cover it up with, "oh, lo siento, er, tienes novia?" xD
maybe i'll do that anyway. lol.
Also, his profile picture is nothing special, and I don't really find him that attractive in it. It really is the gelled, spiked up hair that I find attractive...
Unfortunately, I found out today at MC that he only works in the afternoons (since he has school in the morning... well, except not, since the professors are on strike). but I can only work in the mornings! D= I guess that's more incentive for me to go to MC at 6 p.m. after working at Ciudadela... haha.
whatever, i'll add him as a friend. Although too bad, it says he's interested in women. =( I was kind of going to purposely be like, "¿Tienes novio?" wait a bit for his reaction, and then maybe cover it up with, "oh, lo siento, er, tienes novia?" xD
maybe i'll do that anyway. lol.
Also, his profile picture is nothing special, and I don't really find him that attractive in it. It really is the gelled, spiked up hair that I find attractive...
Unfortunately, I found out today at MC that he only works in the afternoons (since he has school in the morning... well, except not, since the professors are on strike). but I can only work in the mornings! D= I guess that's more incentive for me to go to MC at 6 p.m. after working at Ciudadela... haha.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
More Thoughts on my First Week
These are really just coincidences, but based on my track record, I apparently like older guys and guys who happen to be shorter than me... although I guess I've liked some taller guys... but they've generally happened to be shorter. Also, if a guy has shorter hair and spikes it up or puts it into a faux hawky sort of look, I will inevitably find him more attractive.
My newest somewhat of an infatuation is with a guy who's only 22 going to be 23 soon. Doing much better on ages... but still, this past year has been 28, then 25, then 22. meh.
His name is Rene (I think... lol) and he works at Maria Cristina. He's full Aimara, one of the large indigenous populations here, and he knows both Aimara and Quechua, which makes him really cool in my opinion. He knows all the official languages of Bolivia! He's been working here for two years and he wants to continue next year, if possible. That's like really sweet of him... considering the whole nearly 100% turnover rate and nearly everyone else I've talked to having worked there since the beginning of this year.
I went to Ciudadela in the morning yesterday (I think Freddy expected me to come in the afternoon. Oops!), where wasn't much to do, but I think I'll be working in the afternoon from now on. It's an orphanage, but for children without disabilities. On the plus side, I guess I do get to practice my Spanish more, perhaps, since I have to be able to speak with the kids and explain math/their homework in Spanish.
In the afternoon, I was the only volunteer today, since the other volunteers went to a nearby town to go sightseeing and I didn't really want to go (they were coming back Sunday, and I wanted to visit a church. Also I wanted to work, haha). Even though I was the only one, I loved it. Here's some things that went down:
--picked up poop with gloves, and i think i earned respect points from the staff, but the poop was my fault, since I kind of let one of the residents walk off by herself in the courtyard as I was wondering and watching this little boy and another taller older resident in a tree, hoping they'd be safe. Fortunately, Rene was there. So I walked back to her and saw her squatting on the ground. She was pooping by the time I got there, and I was unsure of what to do... should I even make her wipe herself? should i make her stop since it's not decent? Or should i just let her finish because that way she won't get poop all over her clothes?
I kind of tried to call for help, but it was halfhearted because I was embarrassed that I let this happen.
--felt like throwing up a couple of times, but generally only when I was in that room that they put chairs in to stop residents from escaping (some residents will go out and eat random trash, but i guess they still do that in the room, so i dunno how much it helps). I think the eating trash kind of made me gag a little, along with the constant smell of feces.
--helped lift this gigantic rock to try to fix the sewage, which is backed up in the women's bathroom (so they can't take showers there) and then as five of us were placing it down, there was the awkward, like, oh no, how will we get our fingers/shoes out in time? And yelling and worry and then the rock slamming to the ground. But no one was hurt, thankfully. We all looked up at each other,smiling and probably thinking, "man, we lived!" since no one's feet or fingers got caught to death.
--helped with showering. Rene is awesome in that he lathers them up all the guys and isn't afraid to get his shirt/pants wet. I told him I'd help him one day, but then I realized I told Ciudadela, the other orphanage I'm working at, that I'd be there in the afternoons, and thus I'd be too late for showering time. Crap. Maybe I'll help him on Sundays. Or maybe I can get out of Ciudadela at 5? not sure.
--the staff served this creamy snack that was served outside from a gigantic wok-like thing. There was one girl who stole a plate from this other girl who is young, really nearsighted, and eats slowly. I ran after her and took away the plate, trying to explain to her that she shouldn't steal this food. She then hit the plate up from my hand and spilled the food all over me and the ground outside. Then she kept eating from the ground with all the dirt as I picked up the food, and then she apologized to me (I forgave her and told her it was alright... what else can you do, i guess?). As I was finishing putting all the food back on the plate, and she was hugging me and apologizing again, she hit the plate from the bottom again and so I picked it up again, and she began pushing me as I was picking up the food, at which I firmly told her to stop pushing me, and would put my arm out to stop her. Then another resident attacked the girl after I was walking away, and finally some staff members came to discipline her.
When the staff asked me if I wanted any, I declined... partly because I was afraid of getting sick, since people were just reaching into the wok and eating at it with their hands (after people were served, there were no utensils provided, but everyone was more or less content with eating with their hands). I hoped I didn't seem too stuck-up...
--they still don't have enough spoons, as evidenced by the many people who just ate dinner with their hands. At least it was some kind of macaroni casserole and reasonable to eat with one's hands.
--getting through to Carlos, who was the one who had the meltdown before by chasing him all around the courtyard. Maybe I can help stop some meltdowns in the future.
--came back at about 8 p.m. Whoops. I wanted to stay longer until 7:30 p.m., when the staff leaves (and when Rene leaves...) at which point I'd probably come back at about 8:30 p.m. (well i think it generally takes half an hour, but sometimes it can be hard to catch the correct trufi/I take the wrong one and end up walking more or something), but I didn't tell my host family I'd be back so late so I decided i should try to come back slightly earlier.
--I asked about who comes on the weekends, and the staff switches off who works. So I asked Rene if he was coming in tomorrow (Saturday). He said no, but on Sunday he would.
--So then I happened to decide to go to Maria Cristina on Sunday after church/lunch and not on Saturday... xD
Today, I walked all along Av. Ameridas for a couple hours for the address of this church I wanted to visit, but then I came back and realized that the address was for their actual living location and not for their church. lol. But I did also want to just look around Cochabamba and explore. I realized that the actual church location is even closer to my house, just around where I go to withdraw bolivianos from the ATMs and where a small supermarket is. It's just like a 10-minute walk! Yay! =D
As I was about to go confirm the location, though, I saw that my host mom was meeting with a couple of people from her English class (they've been learning English for 5 months), and I decided to talk with them for a bit. I ended up staying and just chatting with them in English for a couple hours, and we all enjoyed it a lot. They said it was really helpful, and set up times for us to meet again (or well, one woman really just wanted me to be there and talk), so we chose Thursday and Saturday... haha. Although that means that I'll have to leave MC at 6:45ish to make it to their 7:30 p.m. time, since one of them lives quite far away... =\
Then again, Projects Abroad just has required working hours of about 25 hours a week. With me planning on going to MC in the morning from about 8:30 - 12:30, then Ciudadela from 2:30 - 6, then MC from 6-7:30 (thankfully they are *really* close to each other... like a 3 minute walk or something, so I can do that), every week day and maybe the occasional Saturday or Sunday, I'd be working like 50 hours a week already. haha, maybe I could take a week off at that rate and go see the Salt Flats. Then again, I'd probably be too attached/feel too guilty about that and I'd just keep working.
Just went to confirm the location of the church tomorrow, and it turns out that they were having their youth service! =) (youth being from 12 - 30s) I happened to just decide to walk upstairs to the front entrance because I was kinda confused if that was the entrance or if it was somewhere else. I heard drums being played, so i walked in, but there were black curtains covering a makeshift wall that didn't allow me to see anyone else. So I just stood by the entrance table and bookshelves and looked at the stuff there, until a guy happened to walk over and we talked for a bit. His name was Richard, and he had the kind of haircut i like. bahaha. Anyway, he introduced me to one of the missionaries working there, an African-American guy from the States, so I talked with him for a while, decided to stay for worship and listen to one of the girls speak. It was nice. Later, they went to play wallyball, which the one time I've ever played that was at Jackson's house (my Mormon friend). I decided to go home then since I felt tired and I also didn't have the right shoes.
My newest somewhat of an infatuation is with a guy who's only 22 going to be 23 soon. Doing much better on ages... but still, this past year has been 28, then 25, then 22. meh.
His name is Rene (I think... lol) and he works at Maria Cristina. He's full Aimara, one of the large indigenous populations here, and he knows both Aimara and Quechua, which makes him really cool in my opinion. He knows all the official languages of Bolivia! He's been working here for two years and he wants to continue next year, if possible. That's like really sweet of him... considering the whole nearly 100% turnover rate and nearly everyone else I've talked to having worked there since the beginning of this year.
I went to Ciudadela in the morning yesterday (I think Freddy expected me to come in the afternoon. Oops!), where wasn't much to do, but I think I'll be working in the afternoon from now on. It's an orphanage, but for children without disabilities. On the plus side, I guess I do get to practice my Spanish more, perhaps, since I have to be able to speak with the kids and explain math/their homework in Spanish.
In the afternoon, I was the only volunteer today, since the other volunteers went to a nearby town to go sightseeing and I didn't really want to go (they were coming back Sunday, and I wanted to visit a church. Also I wanted to work, haha). Even though I was the only one, I loved it. Here's some things that went down:
--picked up poop with gloves, and i think i earned respect points from the staff, but the poop was my fault, since I kind of let one of the residents walk off by herself in the courtyard as I was wondering and watching this little boy and another taller older resident in a tree, hoping they'd be safe. Fortunately, Rene was there. So I walked back to her and saw her squatting on the ground. She was pooping by the time I got there, and I was unsure of what to do... should I even make her wipe herself? should i make her stop since it's not decent? Or should i just let her finish because that way she won't get poop all over her clothes?
I kind of tried to call for help, but it was halfhearted because I was embarrassed that I let this happen.
--felt like throwing up a couple of times, but generally only when I was in that room that they put chairs in to stop residents from escaping (some residents will go out and eat random trash, but i guess they still do that in the room, so i dunno how much it helps). I think the eating trash kind of made me gag a little, along with the constant smell of feces.
--helped lift this gigantic rock to try to fix the sewage, which is backed up in the women's bathroom (so they can't take showers there) and then as five of us were placing it down, there was the awkward, like, oh no, how will we get our fingers/shoes out in time? And yelling and worry and then the rock slamming to the ground. But no one was hurt, thankfully. We all looked up at each other,smiling and probably thinking, "man, we lived!" since no one's feet or fingers got caught to death.
--helped with showering. Rene is awesome in that he lathers them up all the guys and isn't afraid to get his shirt/pants wet. I told him I'd help him one day, but then I realized I told Ciudadela, the other orphanage I'm working at, that I'd be there in the afternoons, and thus I'd be too late for showering time. Crap. Maybe I'll help him on Sundays. Or maybe I can get out of Ciudadela at 5? not sure.
--the staff served this creamy snack that was served outside from a gigantic wok-like thing. There was one girl who stole a plate from this other girl who is young, really nearsighted, and eats slowly. I ran after her and took away the plate, trying to explain to her that she shouldn't steal this food. She then hit the plate up from my hand and spilled the food all over me and the ground outside. Then she kept eating from the ground with all the dirt as I picked up the food, and then she apologized to me (I forgave her and told her it was alright... what else can you do, i guess?). As I was finishing putting all the food back on the plate, and she was hugging me and apologizing again, she hit the plate from the bottom again and so I picked it up again, and she began pushing me as I was picking up the food, at which I firmly told her to stop pushing me, and would put my arm out to stop her. Then another resident attacked the girl after I was walking away, and finally some staff members came to discipline her.
When the staff asked me if I wanted any, I declined... partly because I was afraid of getting sick, since people were just reaching into the wok and eating at it with their hands (after people were served, there were no utensils provided, but everyone was more or less content with eating with their hands). I hoped I didn't seem too stuck-up...
--they still don't have enough spoons, as evidenced by the many people who just ate dinner with their hands. At least it was some kind of macaroni casserole and reasonable to eat with one's hands.
--getting through to Carlos, who was the one who had the meltdown before by chasing him all around the courtyard. Maybe I can help stop some meltdowns in the future.
--came back at about 8 p.m. Whoops. I wanted to stay longer until 7:30 p.m., when the staff leaves (and when Rene leaves...) at which point I'd probably come back at about 8:30 p.m. (well i think it generally takes half an hour, but sometimes it can be hard to catch the correct trufi/I take the wrong one and end up walking more or something), but I didn't tell my host family I'd be back so late so I decided i should try to come back slightly earlier.
--I asked about who comes on the weekends, and the staff switches off who works. So I asked Rene if he was coming in tomorrow (Saturday). He said no, but on Sunday he would.
--So then I happened to decide to go to Maria Cristina on Sunday after church/lunch and not on Saturday... xD
Today, I walked all along Av. Ameridas for a couple hours for the address of this church I wanted to visit, but then I came back and realized that the address was for their actual living location and not for their church. lol. But I did also want to just look around Cochabamba and explore. I realized that the actual church location is even closer to my house, just around where I go to withdraw bolivianos from the ATMs and where a small supermarket is. It's just like a 10-minute walk! Yay! =D
As I was about to go confirm the location, though, I saw that my host mom was meeting with a couple of people from her English class (they've been learning English for 5 months), and I decided to talk with them for a bit. I ended up staying and just chatting with them in English for a couple hours, and we all enjoyed it a lot. They said it was really helpful, and set up times for us to meet again (or well, one woman really just wanted me to be there and talk), so we chose Thursday and Saturday... haha. Although that means that I'll have to leave MC at 6:45ish to make it to their 7:30 p.m. time, since one of them lives quite far away... =\
Then again, Projects Abroad just has required working hours of about 25 hours a week. With me planning on going to MC in the morning from about 8:30 - 12:30, then Ciudadela from 2:30 - 6, then MC from 6-7:30 (thankfully they are *really* close to each other... like a 3 minute walk or something, so I can do that), every week day and maybe the occasional Saturday or Sunday, I'd be working like 50 hours a week already. haha, maybe I could take a week off at that rate and go see the Salt Flats. Then again, I'd probably be too attached/feel too guilty about that and I'd just keep working.
Just went to confirm the location of the church tomorrow, and it turns out that they were having their youth service! =) (youth being from 12 - 30s) I happened to just decide to walk upstairs to the front entrance because I was kinda confused if that was the entrance or if it was somewhere else. I heard drums being played, so i walked in, but there were black curtains covering a makeshift wall that didn't allow me to see anyone else. So I just stood by the entrance table and bookshelves and looked at the stuff there, until a guy happened to walk over and we talked for a bit. His name was Richard, and he had the kind of haircut i like. bahaha. Anyway, he introduced me to one of the missionaries working there, an African-American guy from the States, so I talked with him for a while, decided to stay for worship and listen to one of the girls speak. It was nice. Later, they went to play wallyball, which the one time I've ever played that was at Jackson's house (my Mormon friend). I decided to go home then since I felt tired and I also didn't have the right shoes.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
On Maria Cristina (Pre-Visit)
So today was mostly an orientation of Projects Abroad, what my placement will be like, and bits of the city that Freddy (the supervisor of the Care portion of Projects Abroad Bolivia) and I walked around to. Tomorrow I will see Maria Cristina, the orphanage (well, about 98% are orphans, Freddy says) for people with disabilities. I guess I should ask why they are referred to as niños, because I found out today that the age range is actually from 9 to about 50. I suppose it's because their ages mentally are, according to Freddy, from 0 - 14. Except wait... some of them I think are just deaf, which means there shouldn't be a cap of 14, unless all the deaf people are under 14... hmm. Or maybe it's the whole discrimination against those with hearing disabilities and thinking they're much dumber people or something. But then again, Freddy worked with children with special needs for 12 years before working at Projects Abroad for like 8 years, so he should know quite a bit.
Apparently, Freddy says that my placement is the hardest that they have, and it requires the bravest volunteers. Freddy told me about how volunteers are all gung-ho about working at Maria Cristina, and then in like 5 minutes they start crying. I'm not sure if that means they can't handle it and switch placements, or they eventually get through it all. Interestingly, the blogger I was linking to in my public transportation post also visited an orphanage in Cochabamba, and her experiences are here, specifically,
"One day during the strike, I went to Solomon Klein Orphanage at the suggestion of friends. When I stepped in the door, they asked if I could help and I was put in a room with twenty 3-year-olds and one other adult. One little boy was blind, one had a club foot, one girl was dangerously skinny. All of them were only as clean as a few adults can keep that many filth-loving munchkins. I only lasted the morning. It was good to be there, as there was clearly a need, but I just kept thinking 'but for the grace of God...' It made me so sad to think that these kids deserve to grow up with as much love as I did, and they won't have that chance. Then it challenged my belief that 'God's love is sufficient,' a belief that should be and is always challenged, but when looking at those kids, was very hard to wrestle out. I feel like a coward for not spending more time with those children. It was something I did not have the strength to do.
This 'volunteering' thing is like using your fingers to stop leaks in a dam. The dam is never gonna be repaired, or even hold, but you can't pull your fingers out once you're personally and physically committed.
There are 57 residents at the orphanage, and the staff (which I forgot to ask how many there are, but I'm guessing like a handful, if that) work from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. Then a nurse (or maybe a couple nurses?) generally from the nursing school in Cochabamba comes and watches them throughout the night. Obviously the nurses are under-equipped as well, being still students likely with little training.
Freddy said that if I want to work both morning and afternoon, I can (which I hope to be able to do), and if I want to stay the night at some point, I can (which I definitely want to do as well). Tarryn (the volunteer from above) and another volunteer set up an account and have already raised over $8,000 for materials to help entertain and teach the children, which is incredible. I'm not really interested in raising money... soliciting for things makes me feel quite awkward, as it probably does for many Asians (or well, actually, since the account has been set up already, maybe I can just piggyback onto that). I do wish I could be as awesome as they are, though. But maybe I can at least give my time and my love.
Apparently, Freddy says that my placement is the hardest that they have, and it requires the bravest volunteers. Freddy told me about how volunteers are all gung-ho about working at Maria Cristina, and then in like 5 minutes they start crying. I'm not sure if that means they can't handle it and switch placements, or they eventually get through it all. Interestingly, the blogger I was linking to in my public transportation post also visited an orphanage in Cochabamba, and her experiences are here, specifically,
"One day during the strike, I went to Solomon Klein Orphanage at the suggestion of friends. When I stepped in the door, they asked if I could help and I was put in a room with twenty 3-year-olds and one other adult. One little boy was blind, one had a club foot, one girl was dangerously skinny. All of them were only as clean as a few adults can keep that many filth-loving munchkins. I only lasted the morning. It was good to be there, as there was clearly a need, but I just kept thinking 'but for the grace of God...' It made me so sad to think that these kids deserve to grow up with as much love as I did, and they won't have that chance. Then it challenged my belief that 'God's love is sufficient,' a belief that should be and is always challenged, but when looking at those kids, was very hard to wrestle out. I feel like a coward for not spending more time with those children. It was something I did not have the strength to do.
This 'volunteering' thing is like using your fingers to stop leaks in a dam. The dam is never gonna be repaired, or even hold, but you can't pull your fingers out once you're personally and physically committed.
The staff apparently do little to no work because they are like out of high school (or less) and have no experience or training. How they learn to work with the children is purely through working at Maria Cristina. Initiative apparently needs to be taken on the volunteer's part, which I'm a little apprehensive about... I often feel like creativity is not one of my strong points.
Perhaps creativity isn't needed as much, because the sheer need will be enormous.
The April 2012 newsletter from Projects Abroad has a volunteer writing about her experience in helping with occupational therapy for a month in Maria Cristina. Here's the tragic account from Tarryn Stott:
"To say the facility is poor is an understatement. When fully staffed they only have four personnel to manage the orphans, one accredited nurse, two nursing students and a social worker. As there is a mixing of genders the staff is often forced to keep the orphans in a single room where they are able to supervise them. The only materials that they have in this room are old, soiled mattresses on the floor, which are where the orphans spend their days sitting or sleeping as they have nothing to stimulate them. Some of the orphans are covered in wounds from fighting with each other, likely I believe for some sort of entertainment. They are unable to provide basic medication for epilepsy so some have fits, and twelve of the orphans are incontinent, however they cannot afford pads for during the day so they often sit in their own defecation. "
There are 57 residents at the orphanage, and the staff (which I forgot to ask how many there are, but I'm guessing like a handful, if that) work from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. Then a nurse (or maybe a couple nurses?) generally from the nursing school in Cochabamba comes and watches them throughout the night. Obviously the nurses are under-equipped as well, being still students likely with little training.
Freddy said that if I want to work both morning and afternoon, I can (which I hope to be able to do), and if I want to stay the night at some point, I can (which I definitely want to do as well). Tarryn (the volunteer from above) and another volunteer set up an account and have already raised over $8,000 for materials to help entertain and teach the children, which is incredible. I'm not really interested in raising money... soliciting for things makes me feel quite awkward, as it probably does for many Asians (or well, actually, since the account has been set up already, maybe I can just piggyback onto that). I do wish I could be as awesome as they are, though. But maybe I can at least give my time and my love.
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