Life stuff

I've had an interesting couple of days.

It all started at 4am yesterday as my host sisters woke up to help their mom make over 800 tamales for the vigilia we were going to host. Every week someone from the church hosts a vigilia for the whole congregation. It typically lasts from 6pm-midnight but my host mom has stayed out to 2 or 3am before. My host sisters didn't ask if I wanted to help (RE: 4am wake up call), but I tried to do what I could during normal people hours. I didn't understand how important this vigilia was until they cleared out all the beds and dressers from my host parents house and trucked in about 100 plastic chairs. Uh oh, this is gonna be big.

I had to dodge my host mom all day, and I felt terrible about it. I really did. I'm not a good lair and I can't come up with good excuses, but there's also no way I'm going to participate in this vigilia. I will do a lot of things for cultural integration, but I will not do that. It's where I draw a personal line in the sand and respectfully retreat to my room.

I caught a break during mid-day when my presence was requested at one of my ADESCO's general assemblies. I was surprised to be invited since they've been avoiding me for weeks. (I had a miscommunication incident in which people thought I was selling high-interest loans....) I showed up not really knowing what to expect.

The agenda was to discuss the organization's options for fixing the water crisis. Sometimes the pipes will be dry for 3 or 4 days at a time and no one can wash their clothes, bathe, cook, drink. Just think about that next time you take a long hot shower. And these people have to fight for a water source. The mayor's office doesn't guarantee access to basic services (though by law it should).

We started off the meeting with my introduction. I stood up in front of about 50 of my neighbors and extended host family, ready to give my typical PC spiel. "Hola. Soy  Ale. Soy la voluntaria de Cuerpo de Paz..."

A man in the crowd begins to clap. Slowly. His neighbor joins him. A woman to my left joins, then the old men in the back.

They slow clapped for me. 

I could have cried right then and there. Being a PCV is often a thankless job. Some people just don't understand what you're trying to do here or why you're going about doing said thing that way. People in the US are just as bad. My own mother had the gall to ask me when I was going to start "working." As if assuming a completely new identity and gaining an entire community's wholehearted trust happens over night.

Inspired by the greatest slow clap of my life, I continued to tell the community how I'm not only the PCV but I'm also a neighbor. I live and work and eat in the same dusty mountainside as them, and I care about this community because it's my home. (Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a political campaign speech writer? Maybe I should've stuck with that.)

People really do like me here. They don't mind my Spanish mistakes, and they laugh at my jokes. I felt good  after the meeting, like I got one step closer to "working."

I got home just as my host family was greeting their fellow Evangelical worshipers into the house for the vigilia. Thankfully our vigilia was over at midnight. Six hours of the pastor screaming into the mic, calling on the congregation to repent, repent, repent! Six hours of shouting "Jesus Christo!" and feverish praying. Six hours I spent hiding out in my room drinking my emergency stash of box wine and watching Fight Club.

The first rule of Fight Club is... aw, you know the rest.

I surprised myself by getting out of bed this morning at the ripe hour of 6am so I could catch a bus into town and buy water, fruit and veggies. I don't like waking up before the sun clears the mountain side. Sooo early. Yuck. But I'm out of water again and I'm thirsty, so I grab my 5 gallon pichinga and wait for the bus to pass. And oh, the bus passes. Without me. I've never known a bus to be "overfull" with paying customers here so I was NOT IMPRESSED by the bus driver's decision to nix the gringa.

I couldn't sleep when I got back home, so I did some angry Pinterest pinning. So many recipes I want to make. Grrr. My host sister got my hopes up by promising a trip to Mundo Aquatico, the town pool I've been wanting to go to for months. But almost as soon as I put my suit on she cancelled on me. I read microfinance articles for the rest of the afternoon, only taking breaks to boil drinking water.

I've gotten better at recognizing when I'm letting a meh day turn into a bad, boring day. Boring is toxic around here. Boring days make you think of your bed at home and pizza and holidays, and all the other things you're missing. Boring takes you outta the mental game.

So I've decided to live up to my slow clap and get my butt moving when I feel the day lagging. Today I had English class with my host family. It's a small thing to do, but a huge step forward in my development as a PCV.