For those of you that didn’t know, the Peace Corps has three goals that it sets forth for its volunteers as they start their service. These goals are mentioned at staging, before you even get to your country of service, and they are reinforced throughout Pre-Service Training (PST). They are the reasons that Peace Corps exists in the capacity it does in so many countries around the world—the justification for such a large tax-funded organization, if you will.
The third of these goals is as follows: “To promote better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans”. Essentially, volunteers are expected to share their experience with their family, friends, and community at home so that Americans who do not have the opportunity to travel to let’s say…rural Northern Belize for an extended period of time can at least get a secondhand account. So, that’s where the blog comes in. Blogging is basically part of my job. It’s considered a “third-goal activity”, and I even have to include it on my quarterly report. Maybe I’ve been a little slack in fulfilling Peace Corps’s third goal, so I’m stating a weeklong challenge in which I will write once per day. I’ll post little snippets from host-family life and true village experiences, starting today.
Today is Friday. Friday afternoons in the village are gloriously laid-back and relaxing—Dare I say…lazy? I liken them to Saturday mornings in the US. The Roman Catholic school lets out at noon, and kids hurry out of their uniforms, slurp down some lunch, and run out side to play as quickly as possible. My host parents often use the day to go across the border to Mexico to pick up some groceries, where they are a little cheaper. That means us kids are left to our own devices for a bit. (It’s funny how the host family structure reverts you right back to a child’s status with chores, house rules, and mandatory whereabouts reports…I’m used to it, now.)
While two of my host brothers (17 and 7) played football (aka soccer), I goofed around with my host sisters (12 and 4). We played an imaginary game, “Masa”, where I was the customer at a tortilla shop and Leah (4) would whip up my order. In real life, masa is ground corn that is used in many local recipes, but most commonly, it is for small tortillas and tamales. Leah was using sand and water, thoroughly enjoying getting her hands (and, somehow, her entire body) dirty while making my two-pound order. As dark clouds moved in over the cane fields, the temperature dropped, and the wind picked up, making it much cooler than usual.
We sought shelter inside and grabbed a snack of peanut butter (my contribution) and flour tortillas (fresh-made daily by my host mom). I fixed myself a cup of coffee to fight the chill. For the record, I have lost all tolerance for cold weather; the thought of snow makes me shudder. It wasn’t long before I realized that Leah was copying my every move: one mug filled with water, one small scoop of powdered milk, one scoop of instant coffee, and a sprinkle of sugar. I was tickled that she wanted to imitate me, and she was doing a great job, until she spilled a spoonful of sugar on the floor. Not wanting to make a scene (she was sure to be scolded by one of her four older siblings for making a mess), I quickly grabbed to broom and swept it up. There was still a look of worry on her face, so I did a silly dance move to the radio’s music with the broom in my hands…instant giggles. Not one to stop once I have an interested audience, I continued the act and handed the broom off to her. We spent the next ten minutes lip-synching and dancing to Prince Royce (genre: Pop Latino) and the like. We didn’t even stop when my host parents came in from shopping and Leah’s older siblings came in to see what the commotion was about. It’s moments like these that I’ll want to remember, and I hope to preserve a few of these memories here.
Love always,
Jess
No comments:
Post a Comment