So one aspect with Peace Corps that I’ve found to be a bit contradictory is how they handle our living arrangements. We arrive and from the start they handle us with kid gloves, which I found comforting. We’ve just arrived from halfway around the world, knowing no one, functioning in new languages, so obviously we want to be comfortable in our home environments and they do an excellent job finding great families and matching us up with who we’d be well suited with within our training communities, along with taking security aspects into consideration. With that first half, no complaints. Just the stark difference between how it’s handled from training to after swear-in, leaves me kind of clueless. And I get it, Peace Corps is a design your own adventure, trail by fire kind of experience. Sometimes I’m left floundering. You see, a rule is that we live with host families the first three months in our new communities so that we integrate better, the community takes us in as their own, and moreover it’s suggested that within those three months that we move around every few weeks so as not to be a burden on families, not to cause jealous between us families, so any particular family doesn’t become dependent on the money we offer to ease the burden, etc. In theory, I completely understand this rule and see its value. The execution is where I’m faltering. I arrived and stayed with my contact’s family for two weeks and then pretty much every terere conversation that I had I had to slyly slide in “well it’s a rule…” in hopes that they’d counter that with a “oh sure, you can come stay with us any time,” which two senoras did (consequently they also housed PCT’s during a visit here to see the last volunteer, so they kind of understood more.) Now I’m with my last senora who has offered and I have a month to go. I’m not sure this lady signed on thinking I’d be with them for 5 weeks and I still don’t really have any definite house prospects for when August rolls around. Moreover, in training we get bombarded with all sorts of safety briefings like, “make sure to lock your door to keep out curious children,” “people are going to think Americans have lots of money and be interested in what foreign items you brought with you, so keep your items out of view,” but when we get to our communities we have no locks, as has been the case with me, you’re lucky if they can even spare a whole room for you. The first family I shared and now these last two have had provided me my own room, though the second family constantly needed in that room as the light switch for the kitchen/living room was in there. This says so much about the way PY houses are laid out, but I’ll save that for another day. Consequently, I’ve felt like I need to be a mother hen and sit on my suitcases to protect them. The first house the “curious” baby messed with my crap and I had some money go missing, but I was torn because I know these are the people in the campo are those who need it most, that it wasn’t really anything traceable, that it wasn’t something replaceable from the States, and it would make my hopeful 2-year working relationship with my contact awkward. Second house, more money, possible phone credit, but to be fair I don’t really grasp this ‘saldo’ concept completely, let it go. About 6 weeks in, PC came and visited and did a site presentation to formally introduce me to the community (to which after making invitations at both schools and having the radio station announce it, seven new faces came, none of which I’ve seen again. So it goes.) They also brought me things I stored at the office after leaving training that where hard to move on coach bus. Shortly after they came, I needed to move as I’d stayed with the second family a month and it was starting to cause a bit of “chisme”, or gossip, in the community that I favored the family and I didn’t want this to inhibit people from wanting to work with me in the future. I ended up leaving what wasn’t essential with them until I procured my own living arrangements. Enter stage left, “the nosey niece.” I was always a bit suspicious of her as I watched her riffle through the wardrobe of the grandson in whose room I was sleeping, would not ask before looking in shopping bags, cards of mine in my presence, constantly asking for money, saldo, but I never had proof, until last night. She showed up to walk with me to a party wearing very obviously the sparkly makeup I thought I’d lost in moving. I decided I need to say something to my last Senora. She searches her wardrobe and finds more inconsequential things of mine, ridiculous things to steal, that I’d gladly let her use or given her: nail polishes, medicine from our med kit (I later realized upon arriving home that she’d also taken all the candy A. Glenn sent me, which made me the saddest.) Things so silly that I felt awkward even complaining about, but knew I needed to demonstrate that I wouldn’t tolerate that kind of breach of trust, lack of respect. The following all went down in Spanish:
Me: “You know, it’s not like I enjoy this. It was actually very difficult for me to do this. If these things are more important than my trust, our friendship, if you need them that much to disrespect me, then take them.”
Nosey niece: “Blah, blah blah, I found that lipgloss and was going to give it to you and the other things I bought at the corner store.”
Me: “Whatever you say.”
I exit to take what I can carry home. If she steals books in English, I’d be flabberghasted. If she steals my Orange and Blue Gators hammock, she’s dead. I go home and realize more ridiculous things she’s taken, go on an awesome Rage Against the Machine bike ride to blow off some steam and stop back by to talk to my Senora’s daughter who lives next door to where I’d stayed. Eventually Nosey Niece comes outside acting like we’re amigas.
Me: “So, did you enjoy my candy?”
NN: ….”I didn’t take that.” Proceeds to go mute and stare at lap.
Here is where I wish I’d been brave enough to make some crack like, oh you just happened to buy that as well at the magical corner store down the street that happens to sell medicine in English packaging and exact duplicates of things missing from my bag, but I reckon I’m supposed to be an adult and professional and take the high road with wayward Paraguayan teenagers, so I just kind of laughed. And I’m a wussy, though I did get in this, which if you know anything about me, you know this was a big win in itself for me learning to be confrontational:
Me: “I’m not as big of an idiot as you think and I deserve respect like everyone else.” (though in my clumsy Spanish I think I actually said, “from everyone else,” but whatever, I was flustered in another language and I happen to think I do deserve everyone’s respect, not in like a pompous American sort of way, but… she got the gist of it. With that, I ride off on my Caloi bike feeling pretty impressed with myself, as I later tell Andy on the phone, “I’m just a chill chick, man,” summing up my day.
Anyways, that’s it. A heads up, I have been writing a lot this week, but the journalist in me won’t let me publish them until I have time for a final edit. I figured there might be interest in what went down today, so I thought I’d appease my hand full of loyal, and most likely dwindling, fans from my lack of posts. I’m making a comeback with the computer, you all just wait and see. Ok, “Che ropehyi” or I’m sleepy, as it’s way past my campo bed time.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment