reminder note

the last four months have accounted for the most difficult season of my life since my accident. i have felt socially isolated, romantically destroyed, mentally and physically exhausted, spiritually starved, vocationally frustrated, and homesick homesick homesick. i keep thinking it will only get better, and then it only gets worse.

this weekend, my grandmother - the cornerstone of my family - finally passed away into the peace of the shadow. with only two weeks between her death and my impending visit to her bedside, i feel robbed of one of the most important goodbyes of my life. death is always bittersweet when the person who departs is loved but has suffered for many years. i am glad she is finally at rest, but i am scared to imagine a life where i will never hold her hand, kiss her after sunday dinner, hear her say I love you, buh bye, buh bye after a phone call, or watch her shuffle about the table as she refills the cottage cheese and olive bowls. my grandmother is one of the most inspiring examples of gentle love that i know. how our family will carry on without her is a mystery i'm not ready to watch unfold, and yet death does not allow us an option. so we shall continue to make swedish pancakes, and in this and many other rituals we will meet her for the rest of our days apart.

i am thankful for the people who help me laugh and find light each day, but it feels very thin right now. still, i want to be hopeful. i want to meet the light. so i am going to seek thankfulness in this difficult moment, just as a reminder note.

dear god, thank you for...
-friends who recognize my pain when others do not.
-my elegant grandma who captured every moment of our lives on her camera because every moment is precious.
-my grandpa who turned his bedroom into a production studio so that i could skype with my grandma while she lay in bed.
-my sister who lets my cat have skype dates with her cat.
-my mom who still sends me the dumbest e-mail chains ever.
-my dad who lets me cry on the phone even when his world is falling apart.
-cousins who have held me up through small and silly messages of love.
-a kitten who demands to sleep on my face.
-volunteers who think i'm a knitting genius.
-roommates who keep a stash of chocolate in their room just for me and my many emergencies.
-brisk, cloudy days in april that feel like brisk, cloudy days in october.
-a peruvian mother who lets me bawl into her shoulder and then gives me a cup of hot water to soothe my nerves.
-a peruvian father who never stops teasing me.
-a peruvian brother who watches all my favorite action movies dubbed in spanish with me.
-a church in chicago that rejects violence, embraces justice, and prays for me.
-a mentor in grand rapids that always gives me peace, even in the comment section of a blog.
-a friend in florida that demands my time so that she can let me pour out my heart for an hour.
-a job that reminds me to be humble and take small steps.
-a god that quietly and patiently walks beside me while i try to do everything all by myself.


i am also thankful for...
-rocoto relleno
-stray dogs
-p90x
-power walks
-utah
-skype
-facebook
-my banjo
-peanut butter
-puffy vests
-super glue
-sleeping bags
-fried eggs
-zucchini brownies
-good books
-jackson browne
-fresh juice
-quinoa
-airplanes
-garden fruits
-humming birds
-pollo



i think it's going to be okay.

never enough

Having just enjoyed a brownie sundae, some star gazing, and stroll past the ruins, I can say that I am feeling satisfied. Now, I have a kitten in my lap, swatting at the hair that's falling out of my cap -- I wonder if he'll ever learn that it's not a toy.

I'm still happy here in Ollanta, but I'd say the honeymoon is over. I've settled into a routine, I'm protective of my quiet weekends, and I'm not reaching out quite as much to new volunteers (sorry, new volunteers), even though we have our strongest group yet (sorry, old volunteers). The challenges of a new job have also mostly leveled out, and it is only in taking on even more posts (I now coordinate volunteers, programs, and tours - not to mention I'm captain of the ship for five weeks while the program director takes an envied vacation in the States) that I find myself occupied enough.

Right now, I'm reading Half the Sky by Nick Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn, which is one of a handful of books out there right now that give heart=wrenching yet inspiring accounts of current human rights issues across the globe. In particular, this book argues - very convincingly - that empowering women needs to be at the forefront of all social, political, health, educational, economic and beyond campaigns, and that the disparaging treatment of women compared to men across the globe - and the lack of attention paid to their oppression - is an inexcusable tragedy.

Half the Sky tells one unbelievable story of rape and sex trafficking and maternal mortality after another. The authors' goal is to empower readers to empower women in oppressed cultures, and they strongly advocate for Americans to get out, volunteer, see the world, and come back changed. They believe it's worth it for readers to spend a couple thousand dollars and a couple months volunteering in the slums of India rather than cut a check and be done with it. If it's within the budget and you have a flexible schedule, I tend to agree. The authors also do a great job of showing readers that even the victims with the grimmest stories can overcome the obstacles and violence that have restrained them their entire lives.

I wish I could say I feel inspired, truly moved by the stories, but I'm one of the millions who feel paralyzed by guilt and the size of the issue. I want to help. I want to move to the Congo and start schools for girls. But I know I can't. Not only does that sound very expensive and far away, but I am one of those people that empathize to the point of uselessness. I would burn out in a week. I would cry everyday. I can't imagine being one of those strong, inspiring foreigners who sees the very physical and emotional pain of a gang-raped 13-year old girl - ostracized by her community and shunned by her family - and has the strength to do something about her situation and the situation of hundreds more like her in her one community, not to mention the rest of her continent.

Who are these incredible people that have that strength? Who fundraise and build schools? Who start health clinics and distribute contraceptives? Who see these crises and commit their lives to fighting injustice at the front lines, rather than behind desks in happy, clean, well-resourced offices in American cities? For goodness sake, I've relocated to Peru, and even though I'm part of an organization that provides economic well-being and sustainability to impoverished women, my life feels more comfortable than ever. Somehow, I feel like I've taken the easy way out, and now the same guilt that I felt living in Chicago, comfortably quilting and knitting, eating out, and watching Glee (with DVR!), is creeping in as I enjoy my brownie sundae and snuggle with my precious kitty.

Yesterday, when I Skyped with my parents, my mom chimed that she expects I'll be in the Sacred Valley for at least a few years, and that I seem to have found my passion. I've thought that at times, too, but lately I'm beginning to wonder if this is enough. And so I feel a bit trapped again. I love Awamaki. I love the work we do. But I am not personally improving anyone's life, and so I somehow feel like I'm not doing enough. But on the other hand, when I think about the emotional fortitude required of being a social worker or and aid worker or even a Chicago Public Schools teacher, I am paralyzed. I don't have what it takes, but I don't feel satisfied with what I’ve got.

Mom wanted to know if I think I need to suffer in order to feel like I'm really doing "good" in the world. I don't think I think that, but maybe I do? I've always felt uneasy about the passage in the Bible where Jesus says to sell all your possessions and follow Him. When I face that scripture head on, there is a deep and true part of me which believes that's really what it will take for me to....to what? I don't even know. To be satisfied? To feel at peace? To know I'm doing the "right thing"? To live a life of obedience? To stop feeling guilty all the time? I'm not convinced that selling all my possessions and serving the poor will solve all my problems, but maybe I believe it will ease my conscience....and, well, I'd like to think I'm living a life that amounts to more than trying to alleviate my guilt. I'd like to live a life where I am part of something that I'm proud of, invested in, and committed to for its intrinsic importance, not the self-serving motivation of a guilty conscience.

Is there anyway to be satisfied in this tug of war? Knowing that I'm a very emotional, at times unstable person, yet wanting to contribute positively and in a long-term way to issues of deep, violent injustice, what can I do? Where is the book that helps the person with above-average interest in human rights, but below-average emotional fortitude? Maybe I'll be able to write it in thirty years. I'll get back to you on that one.

a few things i've googled since living in peru (and maybe should have googled many years ago)

spanish english dictionary
how many grams in a stick of butter?
how to bake chicken leg
macchu pichu
how to cook rice
how to find an account on paypal
unit converter
how to make an omlette
how to sew a box cushion cover
how to use a french press
arequipa
spanish grammar hace mucho tiempo
united airlines baggage
grants for arts nonprofits
grant writing

and so many more...

brunch and such

i just want you to know that i am so happy, maybe the happiest i've ever been in life. can you believe that after all the brokenness and waiting and crying and hoping that i actually finally got here and it actually has been exactly what i prayed for? i thank god every single day for the countless joys of my new world.

today some friends had brunch. i brought the swedish pancake batter (there's still a liter left, as i grossly overestimated how much the "two very hungry people" recipe would make when multiplied for ten). others brought tamales, quiche, and sweet potato fries. mimosas were made, and when the oj ran out, we supplemented with papaya. pisco shots also emerged. this is my new community. this is brunch in peru. this is why i am [almost] never stressed out these days. this is why i love communion. i think jesus would give it the thumbs up.

yesterday i went running for half an hour. i don't think i've ever done that in my entire life, so you should be proud of me. i'm a pretty big deal. too bad brunch cancels out any health points gained.

my mattress is made of the cheapest foam in the world. i can feel the boards beneath my hips. i find myself pushing up against the sides to find comfort, but i always roll back into the center. we call this the problem of the taco mattress.

has anyone else ever noticed that people from other cultures often seem to exist in another plane of reality? today i knocked on a friend's door to invite her to brunch, and when i translated to her host mom the situation and asked if it was ok, she looked at me with such concern. it was clearly not ok, but she said, "si, claro." have you guys eaten yet? no. did you already prepare breakfast? no. are you sure it's ok? (deep concern face) yes. if it's not ok, then just say it's not ok. i can't read your mind, and even if i could, i probably couldn't translate it into english quickly enough. it sounds stressful, and in the moment it certainly is, but in the end, i think i like that we living on different planes. i mean, that is just a small, harmless example, but it keeps me humbled and helps me to be more understanding when crazy things happen. we're all different. there's no one way that works for everyone, and this is why we should not and can not impose are cultural values on other groups.

i like peruvian dancing. you hold hands and just step back and forth. there's no hip movement, no rhythm, no skill necessary. sometimes you get a twirl and that is very special.

my friends' cat is preggerz. i'm going to get a kitten!

the blanket on my bed smells like pee.

prank e-mail from another staff member to me.

dear volunteer coordinator,

i really want to volunteer with your organization. i am extremely high maintenance and will require my own private suite with a bidet...for health reasons. also i can't afford the volunteer donation and i dont speak spanish and don't want to learn. let me know!

------

too true, too true.

my life postcard

this is where i go walking in the morning:

generalizations

so life is all settled down. i wouldn’t exactly say that i feel at home yet, but i do at least feel comfortable buying candy bars (bad) and answering the phone (good). i have about a week left in my homestay. it has been incredible, but was i that annoying when i was a fourteen year-old, because i have never met anyone as whiney as my host sister.

ollantinos, like all communities i'm sure, have quite a few practices and behaviors that are astonishingly novel to the outside observer. i'm trying to remember them all, but i'll just note a few here:

first of all, if i could summarize this culture in one word, it would be "apúrate," which means "hurry up." it is the command i wake up to every morning at 6 am (or earlier), used to rouse children (unsuccessfully) out sleep, and it is the emptiest expression i have ever heard. everyone is constantly demanding that everyone else apúrate in the most panicked voice. it's like everyone's home is always on fire and we all need to grab whatever we can and get the fuck out of there before we roast to death. and yet....no one ever hurries up. the house is never going to burn down. the child is always going to be late for school. dinner will never be eaten in under an hour. now, this isn't quite the same as the cultural phenomena of latin american time where things always start late or people just don't show up. it's really just that everyone is panicked and no one is ever getting anything done. this basically leaves me in a constant wet blanket of stress.

additionally, there are very widely held beliefs about health around here. i can probably count on my hands how many times i've had cold water to drink here because it's so unhealthy? rather, water is always piping hot, which is why getting an aluminum water bottle is number one on my list of items to buy when i come home for christmas. i've gotten used to tea at every meal, even to the point where i'm starting to believe that the only way to keep my stomach from rupturing after five pounds of starches is with a little chamomile. but to think that having cold water at night, eating fruit after dinner, or taking a shower within an hour of a meal all cause infirmity is another matter. every time i tell my host parents that i'm feeling ill, they have some unheard of explanation, as if the fact that i'm adjusting to new water, fruits, vegetables, and hygienic levels had nothing to do with it. i also enjoy my host father's anecdotes about natural curatives. for example, did you know that women with frozen ovaries should just drink this certain herb in tea for three days and then they'll have babies? it's true. he knows someone who got pregnant just one month after drinking the special tea. also, if you have a "scared" baby (which i think means they cry during the night?), you should grind up this other plant and corn and mix it with alcohol and bathe your baby in it on tuesday, friday, and then tuesday again, and they will be better. but it has to be on those special days.

there seem to only be three songs at a time that everyone in peru listens to. my host siblings listen to the three songs on repeat all weekend long. also everyone here is tone deaf, which only elevates the painfulness of listening to huayno (appropriately pronounced "whine-o"), which is the indigenous musical style that traditionally involves some heartbroken old lady wailing as mournfully as possible with gentle harp in the background. contemporary huayno has keyboards and a bunch of other synth shit, making it nearly intolerable, but for some reason, everyone is always blaring it with their speakers out to the streets. on repeat. i actually kind of like the classical huayno (it's the joanna newsom side of me), but holy shit, not at that volume and frequency. i have also heard reports of host families playing U2's "new year's eve" or whatever on repeat for hours, and i thank god that i've avoided that fate.

people here rarely have toilet paper in their bathrooms. my host family will go a week or more without it in the house. i can't explain what they are (or are not) doing in light of its absence, but i have certainly taken to buying my own tp and stealthily tucking it into my pocket every time i go to the bathroom.

it's election day today. since before i arrived here, there has been a constant loud drone of election jingles and propaganda from cars and rooftops, not to mention candidate graffiti on walls, rocks, and bridges. it is more than a little disheartening to see large boulders spray painted with propaganda about how environmentally-friendly someone claims to be. it seems harmless, although there has been a ban on any peruvian purchasing alcohol for the last couple days, as apparently tonight when the winner is announced there will be fights, fires, and bottle throwing. people look at me in astonishment when i tell them that it is not illegal to drink on or during the days leading up to election day in the states. because we're so civilized.

so those are just a few of the amusing novelties of my new life. and now it's time to go to a pig roast.