Aprendizaje

My dad is a question man. I remember riding with him in my car when I moved from North Carolina to Minnesota (a 20 hour ride). I would have thought within the first 10 hours he would be out of questions, but no! He always has more.

Lately he has been asking me "what have you learned?" I don't know if I can sum that up in a few sentences, or a blog entry. What I have learned in El Salvador is difficult to name. But I will try.

Slow down. It's okay to take a long lunch, or lie down in a hammock to read for 2 hours. All the "things I have to do" will wait. To rest is to take care of myself. I like asking El Salvadorans "what will you do on your day off?" The answer is almost always "relax". And they really do.

Pack light. Washing clothes by hand is easier than I thought. Dishwashers? Nice, but not necessary. I find that by having to do things by hand I also have a chance to relax within that chore. For an hour, I will listen to music and rinse out clothes. And that's ok.

Delicious little things. Even in the poorest communities El Salvadorans love their refrescos. Fruit juice with a lot of sugar, and ice. Fruit is in abundance here! Truly, there is nothing better than coconut ice cream on a really hot day.

Keeping me humble. Learning a second language can make you feel stupid. It can make you feel fantastic. Most of all, it keeps your ego in check. It is like transforming into a child again, who makes a lot of mistakes and is afraid to speak. We tell our co-workers at Centro Arte that our Spanish is in the coffee, along with our courage.

Serving or being served? Volunteering in the traditional American sense is more for the volunteers than the people being served. A big group shows up in El Salvador and wants to make a difference for 2 days. I am not trying to be pessimistic, but this is what I have learned. When we travel to another country, we should arrive with open eyes and open hearts. If we arrive to accompany, to listen to the stories of the people, to have an experience, it is real. If we arrive to "help these poor people", then we are looking down on them, and it is not a real experience. Will you let me be your servant? I can be your servant too.

Kids are kids. They like to play, they get an attitude starting at age 7, they love all things sweet and making loud noises. The children here are, without a doubt, much less disciplined than the states. I am often frustrated with this. They don't show up for class at all, or they show up an hour late. They talk to their friends, and text on their cell phones. Discipline is part of culture, and I cannot change a culture. I cannot change how parents bring up their children. I am learning to make my expectations clear, and be flexible within those expectations. 

Education is key. We are so lucky in the United States to have school 8 hours per day, to have (free) after school activities  At my high school, an arts magnet, I was able to take theatre, choir, French. I was surrounded by people who loved to learn. Here in El Salvador school is 4 hours a day, an hour of which seems like it is made up of arriving and departing and playing. There is no arts program in the public school system. School from ages 16 through 18 is called Bachillerato, and it is optional. I would guess about 1/2 of all school age children choose to do Bachillerato. Even fewer go to University. Although the public university costs $8.00 a month, the majority of the population needs a scholarship to be able to afford school. All of this has helped me decide to go back to school to get my Master's degree. My education has been an incredible journey so far, and I am lucky to have the ability and resources to continue my learning.

Talents are better when shared. I am having so much fun using talents, and learning new things so that I can teach them. The children and young adults that we are working with are excited to learn, and we have something to teach.

Making friends. takes time and determination. In Central America #1 is family, #2 extended family, #3 friends. We have had to search for people that have room in their lives for a friendship, and are open to foreigners with bad grammar. Lucky for us, they exist!

Guilt doesn't get you anywhere. We are living amongst a variety of people, some of which only have enough money for tortillas for dinner tonight. We have friends that live on dirt roads with dirt floors in very simple homes and have to walk an hour to get to the bus stop. Yet I have never heard them complain. On the contrary, they are proud of what they have. They are proud of their community and their home. People love to invite us in to "know their home". It is worth something - it is theirs. I will strive to be happy with what I have, and remember to be generous.

Suffering. I have experienced a tiny bit. El Salvadorans have experienced too much. Everyone in the country lost someone they loved in the war, if not their whole family. They also have family in the states, which is a great loss as well because they may never see them again. The problem with gangs continues in the country, and extortion makes it very difficult to start a business or be successful. Some families live with 9 people under one roof, living on beans and tortillas. I do not know suffering like Salvadorans do. 

Resiliency. The people here inspire me with their determination to continue moving forward despite the odds. It is an exciting time to be living here. More and more young people are going to university, and the country is changing for the better.

True companion. I have chosen a fantastic life partner. I am so grateful for Chris, that we are in this experience together. He and I commiserate when we are homesick, laugh at the ever-amusing cultural differences, and even share an office. We are in a good place, learning as we go.

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. 

Because the world needs more people who have come alive."

-Howard Thurman

Postura del Nino

When I arrived at Centro Arte para la Paz, I knew that I was interested in teaching English and music. I knew that I knew those things well, that I could teach and be good at it.

Then I was asked to teach yoga. Now, I have done yoga on and off for about 5 years. I cannot  say that I am advanced, nor graceful. I do enjoy it, and it helps me center myself. 

In Minneapolis I participated in a wonderful yoga class with Nancy Boler at the YWCA. She was the perfect teacher. The class was rich with both yoga postures and meditation lessons. I would usually go to class, but sometimes I wouldn't. 

I've always wanted to be more dedicated and really learn yoga well. Now, I teach it twice a week... in Spanish.

I will admit the first class was terrifying. I forgot how to say neck. I tried three times to pronounce "preocupaciones" to no avail. I almost fell over during the tree pose. 

Now, I feel fairly comfortable teaching, and I am able to relax and also participate in the yoga. I just have to speak what I am doing out loud, and the group follows along.

Two sweet friends from England attend these days, as well as a few women from the city hall. We have had classes as big as 20, and classes as small as 2. No matter what, the yoga must go on.

Although Suchitoto is a calm and quiet town, that calm can turn to restlessness. It is easy to feel bored instead of tranquil, angry with the heat and the slowness. Yoga helps me appreciate the quiet.

Every class I face towards a beautiful painting of Oscar Romero, painted by a friend and former volunteer Melina Ramirez. His face is so kind, full of tenderness. It reminds me to be tender, too. Every Tuesday and Thursday at 4:30, I reconnect with myself, and share that peace with others.

"We have to continue to learn. We have to be open. We have to be ready to release our knowledge in order to come to a higher understanding of our reality"

-Thich Nhat Hanh

Fallecida

When I worked in a nursing home, I was around death on a daily basis. I remember one day a woman at Sholom Home had a heart attack while eating her Friday fish dinner. Afterwards, I talked to the residents in the home about it. "I'm just so happy for her," one woman said. "Me too, I hope I have a death like that". There was grief, but there was also gratefulness.

On Friday afternoon our friends Chomingo and David lost their grandmother. Nina Carmen was the type of woman that no one can forget. They called her "the engineer", because she was the engineer of their lives. She could make anything happen. She was a storyteller, a dream weaver  At least, so we have heard.

When we met Chomingo and David their grandmother was suffering from dementia, as well as heart problems and who knows what else. It has been so interesting to watch how they have cared for her. A nursing home is not an option. When a person gets sick, it is the family's responsibility to take care of them - whatever it takes. 

The last time we visited their house, we were celebrating David's daughter's birthday. At the party, the family helped her with some bandages for her leg. They took her to the bathroom. They put a sheet up and bathed her in her chair. They have stayed up night after night with her, making sure she has what she needs. Taking her to the hospital, bringing her back. Exhausting, but isn't that love?

On Saturday we went to the funeral. It began with a mass in the church, for Carmen and 3 other people who died this past week in Suchitoto. The priest talked about death and life and hope. The church was full of people. Afterwards we walked, a huge mass behind the pick up trucks with caskets. There was loud pop Christian music blaring. There were a few drunk men in the crowd. I suppose alcohol is a way of coping, it's just so public here!

We arrived and followed the group from El Bario to the place where Carmen would be buried. To arrive at this place, in the corner of the graveyard, one has to walk over many graves. There's just not space. I still feel strange walking over the mounds of dirt where people are buried, but that is the way it is. 

We gathered around and someone led the singing of some songs. David spoke briefly. They opened part of the casket so that people could see Carmen's face, and say goodbye. Many women carried towels to wipe their tears. They moved the casket into the ground, and the crowd threw dirt into the hole. People stood around chatting, hugging for a long time until finally they went their separate ways.

In the United States we try so hard to be formal. To do things just right. I was struck by the informality of the graveside service. It was a time to say goodbye, nothing scripted or rehearsed. There was the woman nursing, the man on their cell phone, the man too drunk to stand. At the end of the burial, there was no final song, just a sadness and a moving on.

Solos, graves, feroces, entre la sombra

Entre las horas, entre un antes y un despues.

//

Alone, serious, fierce, between the shadow,

Between the hours, between a before and an after.

-Idea Vilarino