A Very Peace Corps Thanksgiving

Oh, how wonderful Thanksgiving is. Friends gathered around the dinner table, the delicious smells of turkey and apple pie wafting from the buffet table, and a vomit inducing bacterial infection from hell.

Needless to say, I had a very "Peace Corps" Thanksgiving this year.

I was so excited for my first ever Friendsgiving. Last year was a bit of a romp and was really more about escaping the campo than spending time with my new PC friends. This year we rented out a cabin in the middle of nowhere to ensure maximum togetherness. The place was actually very cute and came with a helpful family who lived on the property. I don't have any pictures of the place because I spent most of the time wrapped in blankets and fighting back the urge to spew.

The whole house ran on a generator and we had about 4 hours of electricity at a time which we spared out according to what needed to be cooked. Being the hyper organizational types, we created cooking groups weeks ahead of time to figure out all of the Thanksgiving meal preparation. I was truly amazed by the food these groups were able to pull off. Everything was from scratch and used fresh herbs from the on-site herb garden. I don't think I've ever had an entire Thanksgiving meal entirely from scratch. It was delicious! I forced myself to consume every bite and hold it in as long as I could.

Unfortunately, that didn't last too long. The Friday after Thanksgiving I asked the caretaker to drive me to the road so PC could take me to the hospital. Of course, the doctor listened to my symptoms and told me "Oh yeah, you got the chikungunya for sure." Then some labs tests came back and she changed her tune to, "Oh yeah, totally a UTI." I have no faith in this doctor.

Either way, I've been on antibiotics for a few days now and I'm feeling better. I wish I could've enjoyed Thanksgiving more. It's weird to think that next year we won't be in El Salvador together, but we'll be moving on to bigger and more sanitary places. I'm thankful for the new friends I've made over the past year and all the experiences I've had.

Graduation in Year 2

This past week was graduation for kindergarten and 9th grade, and it was different in every way from last year's celebrations.  I think the greatest change is that this year I understood and accepted so much more.

Last year, for example, I was so confused as to why there were Catholic mass and culto during the graduations. I kept asking if the schools were private, thus skirting the separation of church and state. Now I understand that religion simply reins supreme in El Salvador, and education, religion, and politics are blurred together.

This year I was a participant in the graduation and not just following around my host sisters. Actually, I handed over my camera to them so they could take pictures of me! I was in the mesa de honor, which means I was responsible for handing out the diplomas and shaking every. single. little. hand. (It's ok, I brought my berry sangria hand sanitizer because I knew this was coming.)

I went to culto (on time, but we started the typical 45 minutes late) and politely abstained from talking in tongues while the pastor yelled in the mic. Geez, I really can't give the evangelists a break. It actually wasn't that bad! I know what culto entails now and I wasn't fazed by it. A year of the Jesus radio preacher and next door culto speaker distortion has really shored up my strength for respecting religious differences (even if I totally disagree with the angry screaming and no pants rule). I was happy that my students could share their special day with their main man, Dios.

I walked at the head of the parade from the culto to the school with the director and the representative from the Ministry of Education. He was a nice man and we implored him to work a little harder for our school. Like, how about a few more teachers? Enough to teach all the grades? We'll see what next year will bring. (I have some videos of the parade and culto, but I'll have to upload them when I have better internet.)

I'm notoriously silly and cheerful in my community, almost to a fault. I was a big, happy presence in the midsts of an over serious kindergarten graduation. I don't think kids should anti-smile in photos. It's just wrong. I'd crack a few jokes and get a good smile every once in a while. I think they were also terrified to walk across the stage in front of all their families.

My 9th graders were great and I was so proud to hand over their diplomas. I even gave a speech before I presented my participation diplomas for basic English class. They, in turn, presented me with a diploma. I want to frame this and hang it right next to my master's degree. Sometimes I wonder which diploma was more difficult to earn...

After the ceremony the mesa de honor ate lunch. I really enjoyed lunch. I was starving! I was so happy that the band was rented all day and kept playing during our meal so I wouldn't have to waste precious breath on conversation as I shoveled rice, chicken, and tortillas in my mouth. If you think I might be exaggerating you'd be wrong. I ate like a champ.

I scarfed down my food because I hadn't been invited to anyone's graduation party, so might as well fill up! I know that parties are a huge expense for families, and so I wasn't expecting anyone to invite me unless they really wanted me there. I walked my overstuffed butt home and almost made it when Alfredo stopped me in the street and smoothly directed me inside the house. A sneaky invite! Him and Yohanna (I suspect they are dating) had a joint graduation party and yes, I ate another plate of chicken and rice (opted out of tortillas).

I had the misfortune of sitting next to a really rude man who had just been deported from the US. He'd been there since 1999. He'd tell me a stupid story about naming his daughter after a stripper and I'd respond in Spanish with something like "Interesante," even though nothing about this man was interesting. I got the feeling that he just wanted to be a jerk because no one could understand him. Oh, and he's the pastor's brother. I bet they don't see eye to eye. He's making the camino north again on December 8. This man is honestly one of the first people I've met here that I hope doesn't make it.

Rude guy aside, I had a really great day. I'm so proud of my students and I'm proud of myself. Last year I didn't know a single person at the graduation and this year I could look out on the crowd and wave to all my friends. I'd catch the eye of a kid in my art class and make a funny face, and I know it made their day. After the ceremony I talked with the moms of my students and told them to feel proud of their kids, and they did. I hugged one of my crying students and she couldn't even talk, she just hugged me back. I guess the best way to describe how I felt yesterday would be "overflowing with love." I literally could not contain my happiness and pride, and all that after only 13 months in-site.

I think this is what Peace Corps is really about- seeing the change inside yourself.

Mesa de honor. My smile really stands out. 

Valmoris is in my art class and usually very upbeat. I think he was nervous here!

Kenny escorted his half-sister Marilu. They're super cute, if a little too serious. 

Ana has the exact same teenage angst that my sister has, so I usually make faces like this at her when she's rolling her eyes.

Me giving a speech. It was actually a good one. 

My oldest student. I'm so proud of him! His daughters are super cute, too.

Poor Ana. She can't escape me!

Over joyed parents. 

The band. Keep playing!

Ive had my camera, so of course there was a photo shoot with Aysel. 

The 9th graders with the mesa de honor. 

Gissel was crying on me.

Alfredo won a medal for having good grades. 

My kids. I'll never forget this class! 

Art class update

Oh yeah! And I've been throwing myself into art class. I've made attendance charts and permission slips and planned out gender charlas. This past week was graduation in San Lucas (the "rich kid" school), so we had 11 students in the morning and 12 students in the afternoon. It was perfect. Me and Leo are tracking absences in the hopes that we can have one class of about 20 students. The kids are allowed to miss no more than two classes, so next week will tell how many people get cut.

It's a little ridiculous, I know. Shouldn't everyone get the chance to be involved? Well, yes. We tried that.  Now we're focusing on quality and not quantity. And I really want to get started on my gender charlas.

Fewer students means everyone gets to use an easel and they all get to fall down when bumped into. 

I like that we have young men involved in a not so macho group. I think it calms them down. 

One track mind

Annnnd I'm back. I hate to neglect my blog, but I've had a one track mind lately and I think it's paid off.

Folks, it's official- I have completed the graduation requirements for my Master's degree in Politics and Government from Illinois State University! I started a Master's International program with the Stevenson Center for Community and Economic Development the year before I left for PC and wrote my capstone while I was in El Salvador.

Me and my cousin walked in the same ceremony (she's in SpeechPath) back in May when I visited home. 

Unfortunately my capstone is a little disheartening. I conducted a case study that examines just how drastically my community's development organization or ADESCO (Asociaciones de Desarrollo Comunal) has fallen in the past two years that it's partnered with a certain microfinance institution. I had a really unique perspective in all of this because COED PCVs in El Salvador are placed specifically with ADESCOs to do trainings, help them manage projects, etc. I got placed with one that just happened to, well, suck.

The decline of my ADESCO affected me personally in a variety of ways. Remember when the ADESCO was fulfilling their expectations from the microfinance institution, but not really though, and left me to invite a group of women and conduct the meeting alone? Yeah, that's not cool. It's a constant process explaining my role to the community, but you'd think after SIX previous PCVs they'd get the gist. PCVs work with communities, but they don't work for them. This was just an example of how the "opportunities" the MFI brought in weren't actually what the ADESCO wanted, or they didn't want to work for them.

Whereas the actual case study might be repetitive (people are pretty fed up talking about it at this point), the research I do regarding ADESCOs is really informative. There are NO previous resources, not even governmental resources, that fully describe the history of ADESCOs, how to form one, what they do, what are the legal frameworks in place, and what laws protect the rights of ADESCOs. These are legal entities, with legal powers to solicit their own community development projects with the government, NGOs, international orgs, banks, etc. Imagine if Englewood could just be like, "Yeah, thanks for nothing City of Chicago. We're gonna work with the UN now." It's crazy! So interesting! And yet, no one really knows about it.

I also summarize a recent report that basically quantifies the lives of Salvadorans by their income, housing characteristics, education levels, etc. As it could be expected, rural areas of El Salvador are doing FAR WORSE than the urban areas, and living in the capital can nearly double your monthly earnings. A review of El Salvador wouldn't be complete without discussing gang violence and the influx of child immigrants, two things I've experienced very personally here. It felt a little silly trying to sum up all of these things and present the "situation" in full because, as it is anywhere in the world, the statistics don't always capture the real lives of its subjects.

So besides my capstone, what else have I been doing? Let's see.

Taking pictures of our cows.

Taking selfies with Aysel, who loves my iPad.

Laughing at the boys when they come back from the milpa. Darn tootin their gonna pick those beans!

Making riguas with my favorite family. 

Corn mash, salt, oil, sugar. Looks like pancakes. 

Served with a side of cuajada. So good!

And making tamales with maiz nuevo. I like to eat mine with honey and they think I'm crazy. 

Art and... a carnival?

This week we started the Art and Gender Empowerment classes. We were awarded over $2,300 to buy art supplies for a drawing and painting class. You might think that is a lot of money, but trust me, we can spend it. For the classes I had envisioned our core 20 students, participating in fun gender charlas and learning shading techniques from Leo. A very quiet and organized affair.

OH, HOW NOT SO.

About 50 children, jóvenes, and adults showed up to class with about 10 more "looker-ons" who stood in the door ways and watched. It was a bit of a carnival. Free art supplies! Everybody run to the casa comunal!

The first class was intended to be an introduction to a more formal experience. You can't miss more than 3 classes, you can't be late, and you can't use your cellphone. I mean, common. The materials are expensive and we have grant requirements to fulfill (i.e. GENDER CHARLAS). We need some order!

Leo, being the ever patient and inclusive being that he is, insisted on passing out full sized layer paper and shading pencils to everyone who showed up. They were supposed to replicate a drawing Leo had done so we can split them into levels. Although I was pleasantly surprised by some students, others were simply too young to participate. Things like sitting still, not tracing Leo's art, not braking the pencils... These are concepts that are far out of their reach. I also had about 50 people screaming my name because their brand new eraser was "too small", poking me to get another pencil because fíjese que they lost the first one, and pulling my shirt to ask me to draw for them. That makes 100 little hands grabbing me. Obviously, personal space means nothing here. I had to take a few minutes outside before I could continue with the grabby hands.

Rules! Order! Expectations! 

Getting started on the drawing. Some blank stares. 

Ana, one of my 9th graders, is actually really good! (She rolled her eyes when I told her that. So sassy.)

Erik, too. He's taking on the advanced drawing on the nice easels the grant money bought.

We had some adult men show up. I hope they stick with it because they'll make a great addition to the gender charlas we WILL eventually start. 

It was a pretty overwhelming experience. In the midst of it all, a representative from the ARENA political party showed up and donated refrigerio (mini orange sodas and crackers) to the class. He even ran out and bought enough for 50 people. He didn't give a stump speech, thankfully, but I still felt a little weird about accepting food from a political party. We have the mid-term elections coming up in March and the parties are already getting ruthless in my community.

Selfishly, I wish we had a smaller group. Preferably teenagers and young adults. Preferably those who respect my personal space bubble. I'm genuinely interested in gender empowerment and equality here. For example, as the class dragged on a large group of young men showed up in the cancha to play fúbol. I got the same panicky feeling I always get around groups of men that at any second they were going to say something inappropriate towards me. I never used to feel this way before El Salvador, but now it's a daily fear for me. I know that after a wildly under-planned class I could not handle a rude piropo from this crowd.  And that is why I want to work on gender here. Because women should not have to feel hunted like this. I know I can't change that part of the culture, but I can at least get a conversation going among young men and women.

(In case you were wondering, I didn't hear any piropos. But I'm not so optimistic to think that nothing was said amongst the group.)

Leo asked me how I was doing and I started freaking out about the charla schedule. We're all off now! How am I going to work with all these people!? We have responsibilities to uphold the stipulations of the grant!

He just smiled and said, "Yes Ale, but we have soda." He drained his mini soda and got back to helping the kids perfect their 2D apples on a branch.

I couldn't help but laugh at the simplicity of it all. Soda and some time to draw. Everyone was welcome. It was crowded and hectic, and yet all so simple in the end.

I know the group will eventually tapper off. This always happens when something is new and free in the community. I guess we'll just have to see how it all pans out. In the meantime, enjoy a soda.

Children everywhere!

The theme of this week has been children! Children everywhere! Poking me and screaming my name! Ahh, the future.

On Wednesday we celebrated the end of the school year with my 9th graders. I am so proud of them! In March I had them draw the outline of their hand and answer five simple questions: What is your name, How old are you, Where do you live, What are three words to describe yourself, and What is your favorite food? I ask the question verbally and they write the response. It's incredibly difficult, but I'm not really an English teach and at the time it seemed like a good pre-test.

Everybody, every single student, improved. Even if it was just by adding a few words where there was nothing before. I'm especially proud of one student who earned a 100% and two full sized Snickers bars.

Woo! Guess this means I'm a good teacher, right? ;)

We also had cake and they took turns one-upping each other with thank you speeches. We've come a long way since my little outburst in March. I'm genuinely sad to see this group go. I know for certain one student is going with a coyote this month to the US. When I asked him how he felt about it he said he was sad, and kind of left it at that. I wonder if he's ready to leave his family, perhaps forever. I know that if he wants to go, he's going to go. I just wish him the safest future possible. The challenge for the kids who stay in El Salvador is to either pass high school or get a job, all while avoiding the gangs. I think it's a difficult time to be young in this country.

In a few weeks I'll have more photos from graduation. I'm a guest of honor because I'm giving them diplomas. This means I have to wear a dress and something other than Tevas, and maybe do something other than throw my hair in a scrunchie (I legitimately use scrunchies here). We'll see what I can put together.

Me and the class. Notice the map of America in the background? Thanks Jodi!

Felicidades clases...! Con amor, Ale...! (I have no idea why they did this ...!)

With the cake. I got the fancy kind with fruit in the middle. 

Wednesday was also the last day of school. In El Salvador, school goes from January to November. I took the last minute opportunity to donate five soccer balls to the school. I got the balls donated from One World Futbol Project, a great organization that donates indestructible soccer balls around the world. I agree with them that you can never underestimate the power of play. I really think the soccer balls will add some fun to las días en la cancha next year!

Some of the 9th graders helped me out with the donation. 

Immediate play! 

The 4th grade girls with a ball. We played hot potato for about 20 minutes with it!

The new new Ale

Ok, I'll admit it. I've been avoiding my blog. After the Great Housing Catastrophe of 2014 I was feeling pretty down. I spent a lot of time in the hammock reading historical fiction. I ate a lot of graham crackers. I didn't even care to call any fellow PCVs to chit chat. I just needed some time to myself. After previous setbacks I would freak out. What just happened here? What did I do wrong? And why doesn't anything seem to work!? I didn't want to freak out again over the failed housing project, so I hibernated. I didn't immediately react or lash out. I just... laid low.

At our Mid-Service Conference I talked to my project manager to get some advice on how to move on. The thing is, not only were people in my community mad that the project wasn't free, they were specifically mad at me for advertising a "promotion".... not a project. (Nomenclature regarding "project" seemed to be a major issue for us. I believe that a NGO devoting time and resources to a community for a set period of time is a project. They believe getting these resources for absolutely free is a project.)

My initial reaction was to clear my name. Shout my intentions from the mountain tops. "I worked hard to bring you this! It is an objectively good deal!" But my PM put the kabosh on that right quick. Culturally speaking, bringing up the housing project and trying to explain away the confusion would imply guilt on my part. I hemmed and hawed for a bit, then resolved to never mention the project again.

The Mid-Service Conference itself was quite an event. Four days of technical training and reflection at our typical spot in the mountains of Perquin, supplemented by tons of hot food and coffee. It was FREEZING to me, like 60 degrees. The warmest thing I own is a black cardigan and it was buttoned up at all times in that terrible frozen tundra. I was also rocking socks and sandals.

We had a session about earthquake safety, which was incredibly ironic because we had a 7.3 earthquake the night before. I still have a bad reaction to earthquakes. For my midwesterners, the best way I can describe the horror of an earthquake is when you're about to make a left hand turn just as the light turns red and you narrowly miss an incoming car. (Pretty sure mom won't let me drive when I visit in December.) That moment of heart racing, wide-eyed uncertainty, the "Is this the end?" factor... that is what an earthquake is still like for me. And the one we had a few weeks ago was a full 2 minutes of terror. I don't care what people say- it is wrong and unnatural for the earth to move like that. I'll stick to snow storms and tornados, thank you very much.

I had a week of hard work on my capstone which, by the way, is ridiculously difficult to write in the campo. Roosters, cows, screaming children, heat, loud ranchera music, children's vomit... There are a lot of distractions. I enjoyed a quick beach trip with some PCVs, headed to San Salvador for my Mid-Service Medical which was simply exhausting. I spent 7 hours rushing from appointment to appointment, but mostly I waited outside the doctor's office and threw shady looks at the receptionist who always disregards la hora de la cita. I'm proud to say that at 25, I still have not had any cavities. And that's saying something after living 15 months in El Salvador!

I came back to site on Tuesday ready to return to my campo life (i.e. hammocks and no traffic). Unfortunately, I didn't get to enjoy being home. A security incident occurred earlier in the day. A big one. The next day I was back on a micro to SanSal.

I'm not going to get into the specifics. It can suffice to say that I was freaked out, but after speaking with my Safety and Security Officer, and the Medical Officer, and my project manager, I calmed down significantly. I am safe. I am not a target. Please don't go off the handle. I've lived here long enough to know when I'm ok, and I am.

I'm deeply saddened by what happened, and I feel helpless in the face of violence here. I did have some kind of a revelation, though. Since we got here we've been told to keep our expectations low. Community organization is difficult here, perhaps more so than in other countries, because many people are so scarred from the recent war. They've compartmentalized so many personal tragedies that they're numb, defeated, and tired. I never really understood what it meant to live a life in which there is a persistent, underlying threat of violence. It's exhausting, and it consumes your thoughts and changes your behavior. Perceived or real, violence is a part of this country. My host sister tells me "Only God can save my country," and I don't think that's religious mumbo jumbo. I think she really means it. I understand why people aren't as bummed as I am when meetings are cancelled or projects ruined. They've got bigger problems to deal with. So once again, I realize how important it is to bring joy and happiness en vez de projects and training.

On the bad days I used to fantasize about PCES closing. Hey, I'll admit it! I often wondered what it would take to close us down like Honduras was. But now that I had a moment that made me honestly think about packing my bags, not because of a run of the mill mid-service crisis, but because of something I couldn't control or decide... well, it just seems foolish that I ever entertained such thoughts. I don't want to leave, especially not suddenly. I would feel ripped in two if I never had the chance to thoroughly thank my host family and those important to me for welcoming me, helping me, and loving me. I need to give parting gifts and donate all my possessions. I need to hug Aysel tight and have a good cry before I can leave her. How terribly stupid of me to hope for the worse case scenario.

Yes, I get angry when projects fall through (there's been too many to count), I hate bolos and piropos, and I really hate it when we don't have electricity and water at the same time. But I also love pupusas, salsa music in the streets, and the whole body hugs only Otinia can give.

I'll likely never live this kind of life again.

I feel like the new new Ale. New the first time because I've come to terms with my work and purpose in El Salvador. New the second time because I want to make every day count. From here on out every month is the last month of my service. The last November, the last December. The new new Ale is going to cherish every moment she has left.