22 Agosto 2011

VALE continues on with much success.

22 Primary school students learned how to count to ten in Russian today and made papier mache maytruska dolls as we listened to Russian gypsy music.

Every now and then I would stop the music,

“What are these dolls called?”

“Maytrushka!” In unison

“I can’t hear you…”

“Maytrushka!!!”

“And where do they come from?”

“Russia!!!”

cute.

Jesús got some washable paint on his face, realized it felt cool and painted up his face some more just as he noticed my gaze on him. He froze as I took paint from the table and put it on the face of the kid next to me. Realizing they weren't going to get in trouble we had an all out finger paint war. Mind you, these paints are completely wash out of everything-able.

One of the moms came in the room and we all froze, including myself afraid of the trouble we were about to get into.

"Sure, you send him home to me like this and I'll clean him up. But look at the mess you have ahead of you..." She laughed.

The older kids blew out the innards of eggs and painted them in the traditional russian pyansky style. This delicate use of the hands is something very foreign, and so important for the brain. I am pretty proud of how they dedicated their strong fingers to become more gentle and articulate. They stayed well past sunset to detail their eggs.

20 Agosto 2011

Tired.

Tired of missing home.

tired of missing friends

tired of missing family

tired of missing comfort

tired of missing art

tired of missing food.

So… we built an oven.

She is a lovely little wood burning stone oven right outside my bedroom door. Bread, cookies, cakes and pizza… here I come!

17 Agosto 2011

Today I was sitting in the library preparing for the high school kids’ arrival when some of the elementary little ones showed up. I told them they could come back after 5 to get homework help, knowing very well they were just looking for a form of entertainment which is why I started the after school program in the first place.

In the library I always have classical music playing. I have a few cd compilations of well known (to Westerners) pieces and artists that are constant background. The little ladies were hanging out in the hall outside the library and the cd finished. I stood up to put in another and the girls ran in the room and asked me to play the same on again. Not understanding why, I said I was going to put in another. They requested the same kind of music, and I agreed. Quickly they surried back out into the hall. I peeked around the corner, curiously, to find them dancing what one would call, “ballet moves”. Natrually, I cried a little. They froze when they saw me. Immediately thoughts to teaching dance here came flooding through my mind.

“That dancing you are doing, where have you seen it before?”

“On TV.”

“Do you know what that kind of dance is called.”

She looks down and shakes her head.

“What kind of clothes where they wearing?”

She makes a shape with her hands signifying a strapless top, “Like this, then it goes down to a fluffy skirt with lots of layers… it’s a short skirt.”

And of course, the tears come back, but fortunately not one falls.

“That kind of dance is called ballet.”

She knods.

“What is that kind of dance called?”

“ballet”

“Turn the volume up and dance for me more, please!”

“Yay!” they yelp in unison as they run together and spin in and out or arabesque poses.

The few volunteers that I work with that know of my professional past have encouraged me to give dance classes. To which I respond with excuses of, “How?” no mirror, no shoes, no tights, no leotards, no proper floor, no barre, etc. There wasn’t an ounce of me that wanted to teach dance before. If I did, it would have been purely out of feeling an obligation to do so. Feeling a need to teach them body awareness and pride through movement. But, today, my mind changed…

It could be beautiful for me and for them.

Would it be possible, this late in the game, to undertake that missions of physical self awareness?

16 Agosto 2011

Today was an exemplary Peace Corps day.

At the end of the day, I walk away feeling tired and lonely, but successful. Very successful.

The morning was spent doing the weekly clean. Scrubbing the stove, washing the sheets, and taking a layer off the dirt floor and everything else.

Then, as laundry was taking away the hours of the day Elvis arrived from the estancia with his father. For the first time, ever, his father was sober. And, surprisingly, quite a gentleman; Respectful, keeping well out of my personally bubble, and speaking to me in the formal Usted Spanish conjugation. That’s a first. Guests from the estancia means fresh meat!

I made some black tea and headed to the library to set up for VALE. The kids arrived only about 5 minutes late, and we began.

The class was heavenly and advanced quickly. We covered all the goals I had for the day in 45 minutes. Earth’s multiple rotations and how those form days, years, and seasons. The moon. The Sun. They did the day’s art project. They did the physical activity. We reviewed. And, I still had their eyes and ears for 15 more minutes. So I opened up an activity that I had planned for the older classes and modified it in about 30 seconds for them. We got on my computer and looked at the planets in relation to one another and discussed what satellites are. Every single topic, today, was new to over 90% of the class. They had some sort of understanding of night and day and seasons, but it wasn’t complete. They were missing the visualization of the spinning at the rotating which we did, today, not only on paper, but with Styrofoam balls and flashlights, bodies, and finally digital images.

Over half the class was there well past the hour mark finishing their solar system diagrams. I encouraged them to make the planets however they wanted, and it was incredible to see the creativity balled up inside them. Often, in this Catholic educational system, they are encouraged to copy, and learn to want to copy. Somehow, today, we started to see a spark of individuality and excitement for it. Copying still took place, but one could see the potential for this to break in the not-so-distant future.

As we finished cleaning up, I ran into Marcos. He is a mentally disabled individual that does some really great woodwork under the instruction of my yoga buddy and friend. Veronica was hired by the government to come here 4 days a week to teach wood work and sewing on machines also provided by the government. I hired Marcos to make the library pencil, pen, and paintbrush holders, I just needed to get Marcos wood. Last week when returning for Arequipa I had stopped the car to hop out and get lumber from a local organic farming NGO. They politely provided me with a trunk perfect for the project. Today, I handed over the wood to Marcos and Veronica made plans with him to do the project together.

I had barely stepped out of meeting with them when a little one saw me walk by her front door and asked for homework help. In a round about we headed back to the library. I flicked the lights on again and we sat down as a stream of kids poured in the room.

Can we come in?

To do what?

Read?

What books? We don’t have any books yet. Do you have books you can bring?

Silence and wondering eyes… No.

Would you like to color?

Unanimously, yes!

I turned on the classical music that is always playing quietly in the background in the library, and the group sat and colored away while Elizabith and I discussed the different locations for a ‘subject’ in a sentence as she completed her homework.

There was one beautiful point where these normally trouble-making boys were sitting in silence coloring away and Beethoven’s nocturne in eflat minor came on. I could have cried.

They all helped clean up, and the girls and I headed to the street hand in hand.

When I got home, the idea of cooking was exhausting. And, I officially decided I absolutely did not bring enough back from Arequipa this last trip. Too distracted and tired from VALE project shopping, I never did any grocery shopping for myself.

This is when my host mother’s telepathic capabilities swooped in and saved the day.

“Did Roxana offer you food? Are you hungry? I cooked fresh meat!”

My Lord I love that woman. Fresh spicy alpaca meat with her version of caramelized onions and rice. She served me my usual small portion, realized I was hungry as I gobbled it down and served me another plate. Roxana wasn’t feeling well, so Doña Juana and I sat and chatted for a while in their room.

The whole day was so comfortable. It had a rhythm. It felt in sync. I felt in sync with the community. I fit here and it feels good. I wish I could share the experience.

My belongingness concluded with nurturing Roxana as she wasn’t feeling well. Bringing her tea and natural remedies from my part of the world as her mother encouraged her to try them. There are no words for the trust there.

Now, I can only hope that the next 4 months of the VALE program are as successful and rewarding as today was, even if it did feel a little lonesome.

15 Agosto 2011 take two

Mondays are with 1^st, 2^nd, and 3^rd graders.

positives of first day of VALE

1. 24 children showed up. That is four more students that I estimated optimistically

2. all but 2 were on time

3. they were all excited and happy the whole hour

4. they all learned something new

negatives

1. they were all so excited it was extremely challenging to keep their attention and have fun at the same time

2. we only covered half of the materials and activities that I had planned

When writting curriculum, I always over plan. I would rather have too much to do and give them more information than they need, than run out of activities to fill the time. Staring at a room full of kids with nothing for them is probably the worst feeling in the universe. But, only doing half the day’s activities wasn’t in today’s stratagem.

I used methods to control the kids that I learned counseloring in summer camps, and they worked well as before, but I lose these kids faster than children I have worked with in the past. I get their ears and eyes all on me, then they are literally gone again in less than 60 seconds.

I might have to look at a new way of teaching them if things don’t improve once their excitement for the program wanes a little. I might just sit at the table working on a project, and as thy come in allow them to copy what I am doing and ask questions on their own time instead of trying to manage an entire class and keep them all operating at the same wave-length together. IT might even encourage some independence and investigation if they have to find the supplies they need in the room to do what I am doing.

We will see.

15 Agosto 2011

“ Silence embraced stuns with its presence, it’s pregnant reality. A reality that does not negate reason and argument, but puts them in their place.” –Krista Tippet

Rilka’s advice to a young poet, “To have patience with everything unresolved in your heart; and, to try to love the questions themselves, as if they were locked rooms, or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them, and the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”

While waiting in line for the ATM yesterday in the city, the woman of a couple ahead of me asked if I live in Arequipa. I was shopping in the market part of town where you rarely to never find tourists, and my white skin gave me away. I explained that I actually lived in the colca canyon, more of a shock. These conversations happen all the time and are followed by an explanation of what Peace Corps is, and what I do. I explained that I studied psychology, interrupting, she grabbed my wrist and asked if she could talk to me about her son. I resisted and explained that I am not a licensed psychologist, but she insisted even a little advice would help and fell into her “problem”. Her husband joined in as they both explained that they had paid for their son to go to college but he had decided to drop out because school wasn’t for him and the parents didn’t know what to do. Repeating that I don’t know him or the situation, I recommended they let him explore a little. Perhaps he needs to travel,

“Has he ever been outside Arequipa City? “

“No,” the father says, “She doesn’t let the boys out of her grasp”

the wife shrugs

scared to death to make this recommendation I said, “If he never trips and falls, how will he ever know to watch his step?”

Then I went into something about how university isn’t for everyone.

“I bet he is creative, isn’t he? Does do art or make music?”

Both parents eyes grew wide as they explained that the husband is a musician and the son aspires to do the same, but the parents didn’t want their son to have to struggle financially like the father did.

Wincing at the effect my words might have, I explained the need, between the ages of 18 and 27 to self explore. How time alone, making your own decisions, builds self-esteem and self-knowledge. I recommended they give him that opportunity, and perhaps find a local psychologist they can talk to together.

The debate for this period of development continues in the world of psychology, unrightfully in my opinion. I believe I have written about this before, but there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that the period of development in the early twenties is necessary to grow into healthy mental adulthood. Some psychologist argue that this stage cannot be official because it isn’t cross-cultural. Lower income human beings all over the world do not have the opportunity to travel and self-discover, they jump right into pregnancies and the responsibilities of maintaining families: adulthood. Other psychologists and myself argue that yes their bodies grow-up, but the mind never stabilizes and matures. It is necessary for the mind to have time to explore in order to better know the self. You can see individuals that never have that opportunity try to create it for themselves as adults, even in western culture. This is why programs like Teach for America, AmeriCorps and the Peace Corps are so important and necessary.

I am infinitely thankful for my opportunity to be here. Although it might have filled me with more questions to live out, it has also filled me with more possibility and self-efficacy. I can only hope that everyone is given and takes advantage of the same opportunities when presented to them.

14 Agosto 2011

Somehow, everything on my to-be-purchased-for-the-VALE-program list got checked off yesterday morning in Arequipa City. So, I hunted Roxana. Her half sister she was staying with, Jobana, had taken her daughters and Roxana to a Carnival that had been set up for the Arequipa City city-wide anniversary celebration. In the taxi over, my mind flipped to my Latin American Studies class on Circuses and Carnivals. I half giggled at how different I knew this would be, and it was. The oldest, rickety, and rusty machines, set up in a hurry, were surrounded by latina’s too young to be in the low cut shirt and high heels they displayed for attention from the boys in their band name plastered t-shirts and dark jeans. When I saw that the haunted house was held up underneath by an awkwardly placed two-by-four I decided I wasn’t interested in riding anything; this decision is incredibly uncharacteristic of aunt luz, and confused the kids a little. Instead, I proceeded to watch them scream and laugh as they were thrown and spun and I stuffed myself with everything sugary I could find. Picarones, cotton candy, churros, more cotton candy, chocolate covered strawberries, and even more cotton candy. I was able to keep myself and the kids munching on sugar for hours for less than $3.

I remember going places like this with adults when I was younger, and begging the adults to join us on the rides, only to be disappointed. I had a vague memory of someone once telling me they enjoyed watching me ride, as much as I enjoyed riding. As a child, this was impossible to believe. But, this day, I think I was laughing with Jobana as hard as the kids were screaming. As Roxanna de-boarded I fixed her tousled hair and listened to her chatter about this flip and that spin. My face hurt from smiling so much.

That night, we decided it was best for Roxana to stay with me at Hirma’s house because our bus back to Madrigal was leaving at 5am. We decided to ‘aprovechar’ or ‘take advantage of’ being in the city and eat yet more junk food and catch a late night showing of Harry Potter. Popcorn and chocolate covered raisins along with the movie tickets broke my bank a little, but it felt fabulous to treat this little lady. Roxana even familiarized herself with the ice cream sundae for the first time after the film. We strolled into the house around midnight, true ladies of the night, and I asked Roxana if she wanted to take a hot shower before returning to the canyon. Her eyes grew wide. The only hot shower I think she has ever had is in a bathing suit at the hot springs. I taught her how the electric heater works and left her to enjoy. About an hour later wrapped in my towel and smelling of lavender Brommers, she squeezed out the bathroom door and flopped into bed while I, of course, continued working. I am still trying to hunt down some reference books for the library (encyclopedias, dictionaries, etc) online. She fell asleep with the light on for me in our bedroom,, tucked under the blanket that Tiffyn gave to her months ago.