“Leave your expectations at home!” we were advised. So I
did. Yeow! I had no idea… Peace Corps has integrated volunteers for more than
50 years – they have it down. They toss us in the water, but make sure there
are people and lifesaver rings around to keep us from drowning. Then, slowly,
support withdraws. Every now and then I realize I’m not in a pool, but in an
ocean, and take on faith that I really will be swimming before long.
Our days are chockfull. Language classes are the most
intense, especially for me, since sometimes I think my brain is just a sieve. I
hear and repeat and write and use and hear and repeat and still forget.
Fortunately some is sticking, and that gives a place for more to stick. It’s just
much more slowly than I would like. Tonight I’ve been re-writing my notes so I
can find what I need more easily, and practicing with flash cards.
In addition, there are classes in safety and nutrition, and
hands-on lessons in all kinds of skills, including composting (building a
compost pile, rather than keeping an ongoing compost pile for food scraps) and
permagardening. The soil here is like Oregon red clay, so I hope to bring home
some of the experience many of you already have.
We’re on our own for breakfast and lunch, and with stores as
we know them out of our reach, I’m making do with what the Peace Corps gave me
and what I can get locally. Today we sought local food for a meal we will make
tomorrow; that consisted mostly of talking to each other and other groups of
students (our group has 4 students, one thisela (instructor). We found a live
chicken (which someone will kill for us, but we will have to clean), beans,
fresh beets, green peppers and rice. The emakotapeni (avocados) are just
ripening and we didn’t find any, though a couple of days ago I bought a couple
of not yet ripe giant ones for about 20 cents) each. Yummm! I hope to be able
to cook for my host family soon.
Classes start early (between 7:00 and 8:00) and end in the
afternoons – sometimes not until 4 or later. Then it’s back to our homesteads
to do chores: haul, boil and purify water, do dishes and laundry, clean our
homes and ourselves, interact with our host families. And though the days are
sometimes warm, nights are cold without heat. Add in that we are in a foreign
country where we are surrounded by language we don’t understand, in a culture
that could take our actions as offensive no matter how we mean those actions…
We’re adults, with others structuring almost all our time. Yep, definitely
harder than I thought.
All of my energy seems to be going into just learning and
surviving; it feels like all work and few rewards. Then it hit me: this is how
people who are making changes in their lives feel. Sometimes overwhelmed.
Sometimes as though no amount of trying can be enough. Sometimes as though the
goal is invisible.
So, of course, the next questions arise: How can I
- Reward myself?
- Use this experience to understand and communicate with others?
- Enhance my teaching skills?
- Build self-confidence by looking at what I am learning and accomplishing?
- Give myself credit for what I have already learned?
- Pay attention to what I am feeling and realize my students will be feeling this way, too. Then discover how I can acknowledge, honor and address that experience?
Just recognizing how daunting these changes are helps. I’m
more positive now than I was this morning. The answers will come with time, and
framing the situation as a learning experience I can use also helps.
I know I’ll be swimming on my own soon; all I have to do is
keep working as hard as I can, pay attention and allow my friends and family to
support me. Oh yeah, and breathe.
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