Today in All its Random Beauty

Time in Guate: 2 months, 3 days


For no particular reason I was in a foul mood this morning. So imagine my surprise when I got in my taxi and he asked me "how has your morning been?" I didn't even know what he said. All I thought was "I already gave you the address, what else do you need?" Then it occurred to me that he wanted to platicar (chat), which is what we ended up doing the whole way to work. He asked me where I was from and then continued to impress me with all of the english words he knew. He had me genuinely smiling and laughing, and by the time I reached the school my mood had done a 180.


Today was my first day working in the class I've been assigned to (instead of observing another volunteer & class) at the agency where I volunteer. I met all the kids I'll be working with. Everyone keeps telling me they're "special" or "difficult" or "a challenging bunch." Well being the person I am, who gets bored easily, I was excited for the challenge. These kids remind me of the kids who lived with me when I was doing proctor care w/ kids in custody- sex offenders, drug issues, etc. They were good kids. These kids have had it rough, just like them, but in different ways. I think I will fit in just fine.


It got me thinking though...why does everyone think this class is terrible? At least today, they didn't steal anything, didn't try to hurt each other... they didn't even light anything on fire. So what's the big deal?? And then I realized something that bothered me a little bit, and if anyone disagrees, please chime in.
I think the motivation for going to a third world country and working with the most disadvantaged urban children in the world is one part altruism and one part selfishness. Furthermore, I think the latter part constitutes the majority. All these 20 somethings that are here "giving back" want to feel warm fuzzies during & after the experience. They want the kids to hug them and worship them and make them feel special. And what better place? The culture here, combined with the loving, open nature of children is a perfect recipe for it. I believe this is why my group of kids is described with the aforementioned derogatory words.


I have to admit I'm disappointed that even in the midst of rescuing the discarded people of the garbage dump, there still are subgroups that remain, for the most part, discarded. How tragic. That's the way the world works. We each have a comfort zone, and don't like to be pushed outside of it. And most people's comfort zone doesn't extend into the dark corners where these types of kids spend most of their time. I'm grateful I've had opportunities to work with similar kids in the states, so only the language stands in my way as a temporary barrier, not my fears or judgements.

I'm impressed at how many volunteers there are. Good for them for putting their lives on hold to help out far away from everything familiar and comfortable. They're probably learning a lot of things I took years to learn about people and myself. I'll enjoy getting to know them better. I'm sure they each have something to teach me.


More about today- I love what I'm doing. I have so much to learn about the agency, the kids, the community, and most of all, where I belong in all of it. What can I do? How can I help? I'm so impatient with things like this. I always want to dive in head first, eyes closed.


One of the highlights of my day: describing English idioms in Spanish. Cream of the crop, egged on, black sheep, cry wolf, on the house, cry over spilled milk, corny, and my favorite- put the shoe on the other foot, which apparently means to pass the buck (hah, explaining an idiom with an idiom...) My brain was very tired after using my mediocre spanish skills to explain those and many others. The English curriculum these kids use is...well...laughable. But its sad, not funny.


I stopped at a ferreteria (home improvement store) after work today and asked if they sell dryer hose. The guy I asked (in spanish) looked at me funny and said no. When I asked if he knew where I could get one, he told me to wait. He walked to the other side of the store where he spoke with an old Guatemalan woman. She pulled her glasses off the end of her nose and walked towards me. She had a very strong face, and spoke to me in a voice that matched it. The conversation that followed is unimportant except that to mention THIS WOMAN owned the store. I was fantastically impressed in this machismo society that she had made it, and had men working for and deferring to her. WONDERFUL!


I love Guatemala.