Expectations vs. Reality

As a PCV, you are constantly being told to lower your expectations. Some might think that this approach is nihilistic or demotivating. However, from my experience it has helped a lot. Entering into an experience with very few and very low expectations (or non at all) is actually an extremely rare experience…. and really hard to do. But when it’s done correctly, you prepare yourself for success. After all, the only direction you can from the bottom is UP!

When in life do we get to immerse ourselves in complete mystery? Often times there is some background knowledge, some expectation of what that experience might be. We’ve done our research, read books, blogs and asked questions. And sure, I’ve done some of this myself, but a Peace Corps service is entirely your own. Entirely a mystery until you step foot in your community and begin to live.

So if you want a taste for what I mean, please check out this video. I hope it makes you laugh. It had our entire training class rolling in laughter.

I’ll just leave this here.

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Being Sick in the Fishbowl

So far the hardest thing about my time in Peru has been sickness. It seems like at times I am getting hit from all sides. When I eat I get sick. When I travel, sick. When the weather changes, sick. When my host mom is sick, sick. It seems as if my immune system is constantly battling something.

To exacerbate the sickness I feel, I have very few resources to feel better. When I’m sick in the States I have my own comfy space to sleep in. I have access to the plant medicines that help me heal. I am in control of the food I eat to accommodate my ailing body. But here in Peru I don’t have that.

As of now I am still not moved into my own room. I’ve been staying in another room because mine is being refurbished. I am entirely grateful that my host family wants to do that for me, but I am also ready to stop living out of suitcases and create my own space. Especially in these moments of sickness.

Prior to Peru I had phased out all types of Western medications, over the counter and prescribed. I did not take Dayquil when it was sunny and Nyquil when it wasn’t. I didn’t pop Ibuprofen with each sudden onset of minor headache or sickness. I drank water and tea. I invested in herbs and oils that come from the earth to help me feel better. I slept. I meditated and manifested a healed body. I cooked with superfoods and medicinal spices.

My PC experience so far has been quite the opposite. Each volunteer receives a first aid kit with enough medication to kill a small animal. We are instructed to keep it close and pack medication to go when we travel. Without my normal strategies for healing, I’ve resorted to the medications and their inherent chemicals to help me feel better (ironic, I know). Yes this process works. But is it the best for my body? I really do not think so. And until I find an alternate solution, I’ll continue to medicate.

Now I know what you’re thinking. “Teddy is a dingus, there’s gotta be all types of plant medicine goodness and alternative medicine in Peru.” And to be truthful, you are right. Unfortunately though, I have not found it. Yes I’m drinking tea but when it comes to medicinal herbs to consume and foods to cook with I am still struggling. I hope as I become more integrated that I’ll find more holistic resources to help me feel better when I am sick.

Now for the fishbowl… all this sickness is occurring in a fishbowl. What I mean by this is that my community is small. And I am the only gringo fish swimming in it. So all my fish neighbors and their neighbors somehow find out I am sick. Specifically, everyone at my school found out. In fact, the psychologist was sent to my house to check on me. When I didn’t answer because I was dead asleep,  one of the doormen for the school came to visit with my host siblings. They knocked once and barged into my room. Disorientated and blind because the lights were just turned on, I had to figure out who the hell was in my room (not my room) and why.  The doorman, Miller, was offering to take me to the regional capital hospital because he heard I was sick.

When I made it back to school the following day, every professor and personnel of the school made sure to tell my why I was sick, and how to feel better. Dress warmer. Don’t drink cold drinks. Take cold showers. Mind the changes in the climate. Don’t wear shorts. Drink tea with lemon and honey. Take pills. Rub something on my face. Abrigate, abrigate, abrigate. 

Now I know all these people are coming from a caring and loving space. And yes, some of their reasons why I am sick and how to feel better might actually be true. But for some reason all I can feel is frustration. Frustrated that so many people know that I am sick; that I am weak. Frustrated that my privacy was invaded. Frustrated that when I don’t show up, everyone feels like it’s their job to find where I am and tell me what to do.

This is for sure a culture shock moment. As if only a certain amount of caring is allowed. That too much caring violates my independence and my individual experience of being sick. It’s funny because in the past, I might feel bad for myself when people didn’t care enough. Or when my friends or family weren’t giving my sick self the attention I deserved. Poor me.

So where is the line drawn? Between caring just enough and caring too much? Will being sick in my community feel this way always? Or will I get accustomed to every community member suddenly becoming a trained doctor in the moment that I sneeze or cough? Why am I frustrated when people care about me? Why do I feel like being sick is a private experience? But when it’s too private, why do I feel like I’m being neglected?


I don’t have the answers to these questions. Nor to the other questions that are currently running through my sick brain at the moment. I could keep writing but I feel as if this is sufficient for now. I now will turn to more a more personal strategy of introspection in order to grapple with some of these thoughts. I truly hope I feel better soon. I will feel better soon. And all these frustrations will melt away. At least until next time I am sick. Or maybe these feelings won’t manifest again. Perhaps more reflection and patience on this subject will help my next sickness not be so culturally jarring. Surely that is the goal.

And now, two mantras that always give me company in moments of sadness, weakness, sickness, injury etc.

…This too shall pass…

…Don’t rush your healing. Darkness has its teaching. Love is never leaving…

Los Lunes Son Para Libros: 3rd Edition

Let me just say…WOW. From the minute I picked up this book I was impressed and immediately drawn in. The Story of B, written by Daniel Quinn, is compelling, thought provoking, funny and sad all wrapped up into one book. Written in 1996, Quinn chronicles the journey of a young priest who is sent off by his superior to investigate another priest whom they think in the antichrist. Along this journey, the priest finally finds the man who is now only known as B. Charged with recording and transcribing the ‘antichrist’s lectures’, the young priest begins to not only investigate, but to also follow. Soon enough the priest moves away from his religious background and becomes a disciple of and believer in the secular teachings of B.

Quinn writes the book as an extension of his earlier book Ishmael. Expertly done, Quinn draws from his lessons in Ishmael and fleshes them out with more detail. Throughout the book, the character B references multiple times how some of his inspiration comes from the teachings of his mentor Ishmael. Throughout the novel, B lectures to multiple audiences. His speeches are included verbatim in an 80 page long appendix. Each speech contains golden nuggets of knowledge, mind twisting hypotheticals and anthropological stories.  In fact, Quinn is responsible for the famous boiling frog heuristic that so many us of have learned about to help explain climate change.

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Because there’s simply too much to talk about from this book, I’ve decided to pull out some of my favorites quotes. Some of them I might explain. Others I might just let them marinate in your own brain.


“Nothing in the community lives in isolation from the rest, not even the queens of social insects. nothing lives only in itself, needing nothing from the community. Nothing lives only for itself, owing nothing to the community. Nothing is untouchable or untouched. Ever life is on loan from the community from birth and without fail is paid back to the community in death. The community is a web of life, and every strand of the web is a path to all the other strands. Nothing is exempt or excused. Nothing is special. Nothing lives on a strand by itself, unconnected to the rest”

DQ quote 2

“What works evidently, is cultural diversity. This should not come as a surprise. If culture is viewed as a biological phenomenon, then we should expect to see diversity favored over uniformity. A thousand designs– one for every locale and situation– always works better than one design for all the locales and situations. Birds are more likely to survive in ten thousand nest patterns than in one. Mammals are more likely to survive in ten thousand social patterns than in one. And humans are more likely to survive in ten thousand cultures than in one– as we are in the process of proving right now. We’re in the process of making the world unlivable for ourselves– precisely because everyone is being forced to live a single way. There would be no problem if only one person in ten thousand lived the way we live. The problem appears only as we approach the point where only one person in ten thousand is permitted to live any other way than the way we live. In a world of ten thousand cultures, one culture can be completely mad and destructive, and little harm will be done. In a world of one culture– and that one culture completely mad and destructive– catastrophe is inevitable”

DQ quote

“This isn’t something that will be undone by any one author– or by any ten authors. Nor will it be undone by any one teacher or by any ten teachers. If it’s undone, it will be undone by a whole new generation of authors and teachers.

One of which is you.

There’s no one in reach of these words who is incapable (at the very least) of handling them to another and saying, “Here read this.” Parents teach your children. Children, teach your parents. Teachers, teach your pupils. Pupils, teach your teachers.

Vision is the river, and we who have been changed are the flood. 

I suppose people will ask you to summarize what it’s all about. I offer you this, knowing how inadequate it is: The world will not be saved by old minds with new programs. If the world is saved, it will be saved by new minds– with no programs” 


 

“I’ve written the words, and they’ve found their way to you– I don’t know how, exactly. […] The words have found their way to you even if, having read them, you hate them– even if you hide them from your children’s eyes and consign them to the flames. They’ve found there way to you, so its already too late. Even if, in the meantime, Fr. Lulfre tracks us down and send his assassins to us, he’ll be to late–because of what you’ve read here.

The contagion has been spread.

You are B.


 

Well if those quotes don’t tear your heart out and then breathe life back into you, you might not be human. Or perhaps you’re blind to the realities of our earth. Or perhaps you see clearly whats occurring to our home and don’t care, or don’t feel empowered to do anything.

I’ll admit…I’ve been in each of those positions. I’ve been ignorantly and blissfully blind. I’ve also been awoken and educated full well on the atrocities that are committed everyday and every second on our earth–to your earth.What did I do? Sometimes nothing at all. I continued living, continued consuming, continued polluting. Why? Because I felt powerless, small, futile. Like whatever impact I had, good or bad, just would not matter.

Now though, when I read books like The Story of B, or when I research in my discipline of environmental sociology (or cross disciplines for that matter), I feel deeply. The truth found in the texts, in the words, pulls out of me a yearning to care, to do something– to be apart of the flood.

I am in a unique position in my life where all that is asked of me is to show up. Part of being a Peace Core volunteer is simply to spend time. To live and to be an example. Teaching, classes, projects and behavior change come along the way. Before that though, I simply need to be. To care. If each day I can make one person smile wider, think more critically, respect more deeply–then all goals, objectives, outcomes, outputs and measuring tools aside–I’ve done my job. The trickle has begun. The river is forming. I and others like me are wading in it. The water is rising. The flood is coming.

Swearing In Ceremony

The day has finally arrived. The Peru 30 cohort swore in as official volunteers. After some trainees returning home, 20 community health volunteers remain along with 23 youth development volunteers.
The ceremony was short and sweet. The ambassador from the U.S., the PC country director, and the training manager all shared words. After short speeches, the program directors from CD and YD proudly announced the names of the brand new volunteers. Each was presented with a certificate and given a few handshakes. After the ceremony we shared gaseosas (soda) and bocadillos (snacks). Later in the evening the volunteers put on a talent show for the host parents. There was singing, salsa dancing, zumba, hoola-hooping and poetry. In general it was a really good day; full of lots of love and pride. To finish this post I am going to share some photos that were taken when we became volunteers. In each are special people.


 

In this photo is my host mother Gloria, host father Roger and my baby sister Shirel (aka la muñeca). For the past 3 months these two have treated me like a son. They were patient with my broken Spanish, stayed up late when I was sick and made me laugh harder than some of my friends can in English. They cared so deeply that there wasn’t a single day where I didn’t feel like part of the family. Gloria and Roger are some of the hardest working people I know. They rise before the sun every day and stay up late making sure every little thing was accomplished that day. Their commitment to their family and to making a better life for themselves inspires me. To them I am grateful for: patience, love and trustworthiness.


Here you see two of my host brothers Reynaldo (7) and Marcos (12). This photo was taken on our last morning together before they went to school and before I went to swear in. I by far was closest with these two. From day one they treated me like a brother. I remember vividly arriving on my first day to them screaming from the patio “hermano!” Each night after that they greeted me the same, sometimes even running down the street to meet me halfway. We ate popcorn, candy and watched The Simpsons in Spanish. I played more games of Uno in 3 months with these two munchkins than I have in my entire life. They also taught me how to play marbles, jacks and trompo. To my brothers I am grateful for: playfulness, honesty and naiveté.


 

This lady here is Elizabeth Burger (aka EZ Burgs). Our friendship began during Staging in Miami. From day one we bonded over Colorado, coffee, poetry and similar senses of humor; mostly brutal sarcasm. Our relationship quickly grew into one of older sister and younger brother. I looked up to her and she called me out when I was being annoying. EZ is a powerhouse in our group. She is a great teacher and facilitates classrooms/ groups of people with ease; she demands your attention and keeps it until she is done. She is committed to her family, friends and her work as a health volunteer. Because I this I know she will be a great volunteer. To her I am grateful for: laughter, commitment and humor.


The man I am hugging in this photo is our Youth Development Program Director Jorge Delgado. In the background you see the US ambassador of Peru on the left and the Peace Corps Country Director Parmer Heacox on the right. This photo was taken just after swearing in and receiving my certificate as a YD volunteer. I am hugging Jorge because, well, he hugged everyone. But I am hugging him because he also deserves a hug. I am very lucky to have been trained by Jorge. He is the perfect mix of organized professional and loving father. He is skilled in what he does, answers every question with care (even dumb ones) and leads with his heart first. Every time we had sessions with him we were happy because we knew we were about to receive important information in an entertaining and inclusive manner. He is 100% committed to the YD program and to his country. I look forward to seeing how our work relationship grows over the course of my service. To Jorge I am grateful for: professionalism, organization and leadership.


The two in this photo are last but certainly not least. This is Lesia (aka Danny-Loo) and Braden (aka Brady Boy or Doble B). Like EZ, we started to become friends during staging. Braden was my roommate and Lesia ordered our first Uber ride to South Beach; Elizabeth was also in this carpool. On the way there we bonded over similar world views, attitudes, and once again, style of humor. We quickly became friends, spending almost everyday day together at the training center. We ate popcorn, doodled during training sessions, ate lunch together on the couches and went for walks to the park when we needed to escape. We adventured to Lima, created memories in Chosica and explored Chaclacayo. Unfortunately, none of us were placed in the same department, but maybe that’s for the better. Our friendship will continue to grow long distance and when we reunite for trainings or vacation, it will be just like old times. To Braden and Lesia I am grateful for: friendship, independence and spontaneity.

Entre de Los Dos

En la valle mis pulmones son llenos con polvo,

En la montañas respiro aire fresco.

En la valle los autos me dominan,

En las montañas camino sin temor.

En la valle aprendo como aspirante,

En las montañas trabajo como voluntario.

Uno es mejor que otro,

Pero en los dos lugares lindos,

Vivo agradaciemente.