The Ten Commandments of being a Peace Corps Volunteer

I often enjoy listening to podcasts while I'm doing busy work, like making posters for my charlas, laundry, or cleaning my room.

I recently listened to This American Life's show on The Ten Commandments, which also featured The Ten Commandments of just about everything under the sun, like the Ten Commandments of Tractor Safety, The Ten Commandments of Paris Dining, etc. (In case you need a brush up on the real Ten Commandments <---- check out this link.)

So it made me wonder, has anyone made a Ten Commandments list for Peace Corps Volunteers? I mean, we have our Ten Core Expectations, of course, but I was thinking something volunteer-made.

I looked it up and found one hit for a blog from a volunteer named Quilen, back in 2008. (You can check out the blog here) And well, to be honest, I wasn't too impressed. They seem to be written as motivation for success for other volunteers, but The Ten Commandments he wrote could have been summed up in two-- 1) "buck up," and 2) "there's no one to blame but yourself."

So, it is with great condemning pleasure I present to you my very own,

Heston's saying, "Do I really have to follow #7?"

Ten Commandments of being a Peace Corps Volunteer

#1--Peace Corps is thy employer and brought thee out of the U.S.A. into the land of thy host country, and therefore is thy one and only true employer. Thou shall go where Peace Corps asks thee to go, and live as those in thy host country live.

#2--Thou shall not try to convert thy host-country concerning political or religious affiliations, for Peace Corps does not prescribe to any and does not discriminate nor support one or the other.

#3--Thou shall not sully the name of Peace Corps, nor make ill-use of it in thy blog. Peace Corps will not hold guiltless he who ruins its reputation. 

#4--Remember the personal day, and keep it holy. Thou lives where thou workest, and therefore are constantly working. Take a day exclusively for thyself. Thou shall not do charlas, tutor in English, nor write assignment plans. It is a day for thee, and no one can take that away; nor thy host-family, thy socios, thy neighbor, nor the doe-eyed children.

#5--Call thy mother and thy father, and let them know thou art alive. 

#6--Thou shall not kill all thy free time by sitting in thy room. Thou must integrate into thy community.

#7--Thou should not commit adultery nor date within site. If thou wants to get down, thou must get out of town.

#8-- Thou shall not steal-away from site without permission.

#9-- Thou shall not bear false witness on thy fellow volunteer, nor tattletale, nor post incriminating photos on thy facebook.


#10--Thou shall not covet thy fellow volunteer's Peace Corps experience; thy fellow's house, thy fellow's host family, thy fellow's socio, thy fellow's projects, thy fellow's site. Everyone's experience is different, and thou shall not judge thyself and thy experience to others!

Regalame

I am writing this blog from the inside of my mosquito net—yep, it’s up. After an entire summer of not putting it up and toughing out the nights of laying half-naked on top of my bed with mosquito spray on, I have reached my limit. The mosquitoes have gotten so bad I can’t even sit at my desk without getting mauled. I am pretty sure I am going to have permanent scars from scratching my bites raw.

Anyways…

The serpost (post office) had been on strike for sometime during March, and the first week of April I was off traipsing in Ancash for Semana Santa (Holy Week, AKA, free vacation days for volunteers!) so I hadn’t been able to check mail for quite some time. So, you can imagine my surprise when I went to check and I had four packages and three hand-written letters!

I don’t think I can express how much receiving mail, let alone care packages full of goodies, means to me. I feel spoiled, indebted, loved, homesick, strengthened, heartbroken, and refortified all at once. The moments after I’ve signed for my mail and stand in the serpost looking through the notes and items from home give me a high and humble me.

Sometimes when I’m sitting at my computer at home and I am looking at Facebook and seeing everything everyone is doing, I think the most self-centered thoughts of, “They’re all moving on without me!” The internet both connects me and makes me feel even more disconnected. I once sat on Facebook in a hostal with my fellow volunteers and I said, “You know you’ve been in Peru for awhile when you no longer relate to anyone’s status updates on Facebook.” My reality has become so different. This tool of communication is so deceiving. My friends are all there in a row with pictures of their beautiful faces, and yet they are so far away and out of reach. Anyways, I won’t go into the merits and demerits of social networking, but the point being, regardless of what I know in my heart, there are times when I still feel far away and forgotten.

And then I receive mail and I get the reality check that, “Yeah, their lives are moving on, but they haven’t forgotten me.” People are using a system that isn’t free and is practically obsolete just to let me know they care.

Thank you, my lovely friends and family, for the love and consideration you put into all of these acts of kindness!

And now, for a side story on my trip to the serpost:

After I had finished opening all of my packages and letters of glory and was busily writing postcards on one of the tables in serpost, a young girl walked in selling caramelos. This is a common job for children and teenagers (and sometimes adults), as they often walk along the streets and come into restaurants begging patrons to buy a caramelo (candy). And I mean begging, or, “The Peruvian Whine.” 

The girl set herself in front of me and begged in that irritating tone for me to buy some of her candy. I politely declined. She begged some more, not budging. I declined. More begging. More declining. Finally, the girl saw I wasn’t about to buy anything from her, but had taken note of some of my packages that were still sitting on the table. She motioned to some protein powder my mom sent and begged, “Regaaaaaalameeeee” (Give it to me). 

“No,” I said.

“Porfi, regaaaaaaaaaaalameee…” she begged again.

“What are you going to do with this? Do you even know what it is?” I asked.

“Regaaaaaaaaaalameeeeee…” she continued, ignoring my question.

“Do you know me?” I asked.

“No,” she responded.

“So what makes you think you can just ask me to give you my stuff? What makes you think you should just be given something for nothing?” I asked.

I know I should probably have a better way of dealing with all of this, as I am a youth volunteer and I work with child workers in my site every week. But dealing with a child worker in the city, who has no reference to who I am and only cares about getting something from me, is a different case entirely. My questioning of the girl’s personal values was unhelpful, as for her the answer to why I should give her something is obvious: I am white, therefore rich, therefore able to give and give without thought.

The girl wasn’t moving. She wouldn’t stop whining. So I opened up a bag of candy Justin’s aunt Carrie had sent and handed her a single chocolate egg.

“There, now go away,” I said, and she finally ran off.

After sending off my postcards I walked to the main plaza in a daze. My mind was in a billion places at once, thinking of all the people who had sent me letters and packages, thinking of my favorite places back home, and reflecting on my time in Peace Corps.

I sat down on a cement wall in the plaza and looked once again through all of my letters. In the midst of rereading a letter I received a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize and when I answered discovered it was one of the directoras of a national youth program I work with in my site. Even though my Spanish has taken leaps and bounds that I am very proud of, phone conversations are still the ultimate test of comprehension. The directora on the other end of the line was explaining to me who she was and why she was calling, as a woman approached me and started begging for money. I waved her off and asked the directora to repeat herself. The woman now stepped in closer, being no more than 6 inches away from me, employing the most obnoxious Peruvian whine. I put my hand over my free ear and continued ignoring the woman. She then hit me with a plastic bottle on the arm.

She didn’t hit me hard, but I was shocked. In fact, I was borderline pissed. This woman felt so entitled to my money she found it okay to hit me in order to demand my attention; as if I had just absentmindedly forgotten she was there. By this point I covered the mouthpiece of my phone and told the lady to scram, giving her my best dagger eyes (which worked only momentarily--she returned two more times).

This is one of those situations in which I clash head-on with Peruvian culture. There are so many things about this situation that don’t just grate on my nerves, but my personal values.

It is one of those moments where I can’t help but think, “back home this would never happen,” or “how is this okay?”

The things that are asked of me on a daily basis are more than I’ve ever been asked of in my life. People constantly coming up to me, wanting “apoyo” (support, usually financially) telling me all of the things they need, all of the things they want me to fix, want me to fund, want me to teach…

And we're not even talking about people begging on the street for money, these are just the people in my town who want change, but they want me to be the one to bring it.

I have to say, “No,” all the time.

It’s a situation created by poverty and other dynamics that I may never fully understand, but it’s the reality of where I am. I can’t control how people act or how people perceive me-- as the white tourist just passing through with my vacation money, or as a middle man of a rich organization ready to fund projects—and that is something I’m going to have to get used to. By taking on this job I have taken on an image. I have stepped into a role I was unaware I would be expected to play.

But I’ll tell you, 10 months in this country and I’m still not used to it. Not sure I ever will be. I’ve gone my whole life blending into the crowd, and I have now simultaneously become a circus freak, a super model, a teacher, a psychologist, a professional, and a wealthy tourist.  No matter how much I integrate into my site I will never go unnoticed. No matter how many trips I make to my capital city I will still be seen as a tourist. I will never be able to sit in the plaza in peace; I will never be able to just blend into the crowd.

And I suppose that is all part of this wild ride; sticking out of the crowd for once, having stories like these to tell on any given day, and most importantly, being asked to become something you’ve never been before.

If you're having a rough day...

Look at this link.

13 Simple Steps To Get You Through a Rough Day

Aside from the awesome post I put up mere hours ago, today has been one of those "I-know-it's-hard-but-you-must-leave-the-house-and-do-something-regardless-of-how-much-you-want-to-stay-in-your-room-and-ignore-the-existence-of-the-world" kind of days.

And then I remembered my fellow 17'er Kim had posted the above link onto our group page, so I checked it out and I cried in silent laughter.

The Marshmallow Challenge in Perú

In the beginning of March I attended an in-service training with some of my fellow 17ers where half the time we discussed project management and the other half ideas for youth groups back in site.

Evan, our PCVC, made us do this extremely cheesy and seemingly simple game called The Marshmallow Challenge. Little did we know....


Then I came back to my site and did the same activity with my NATS youth group, and the results were extremely interesting.

So, I wrote the people at Autodesk (who have turned the Marshmallow Challenge into a workshop feature with Fortune 500 companies and a Ted Talk) and they wrote back. Now my NATS are featured on this blog! Check it out!

"Peruvian Children Smoke Marshmallow Challenge in Six Minutes"

The internet is robbing my soul.

So, getting the internet in my room couldn't have come at a worse time. I'm presenting my community diagnostic tomorrow for all of the town authorities (assuming they all come) and, well, I've been a little distracted.

Its just after not having unlimited internet for so long, I kind of got a little out of hand. I watched a billion youtube videos (because all of you people kept posting stuff on facebook that I couldn't watch!), I stalked everyone I could think of to see what they've been doing for the last 10 months (if you're reading this...I probably stalked you. Nice photos, by the way), I chatted with various different people, watched movie trailers, listened to music, downloaded podcasts, read blogs, read multiple NPR and BBC stories, and...well...just been very distracted. And emotional.

Is it possible that the internet can make you every emotion possible within an hour? Or is that just Peace Corps?

Also, while my host dad's claims aren't completely unfounded, he has now decided that if I am in my room I'm not depressed (remember? my "Sh*t my host dad says" post?), I'm just a slave to the internet. If I am ever in my room (even napping or say, actually working) I am instead surfing the internet and being a zombie. I walk out into the kitchen from my room smiling and saying, "hola," and he will just stare at me, a critical eye, and the second I'm out of site he says in a loud whisper, "Amanda is spending way too much time on the internet. She has it in her room and now look, she doesn't do anything else."

Well, I've actually been pretty good today and my diagnostic is looking pretty solid as a presentation, and when my host mom proof-read it for me it had probably the least amount of spelling and grammatical errors of anything I've ever written in Spanish, EVER. That means a lot to me considering; A) I'm used to being above average on those things in English and can't say the same for Spanish, and B) I CAN HAZ LEARN SPANISH GOOD?

Some highlights of things I've been perusing...

My good friend Kyra's Etsy Page. Man, that girl is beautiful! So proud of her and her awesome jewelry. And also, her daywalker fiánce and his glorious red beard (as seen in their fuh-reaking amazing engagement photos. MY FRIENDS ARE MODELS.)


Wrecked Metals from Josh Clason on Vimeo.
This vimeo of Wrecked Metals, a hotrod and chopper shop in Boise, Idaho, owned by one of the Farm Boys, Matt Whitlock (and one of my brother's friends), which makes me extremely homesick because it shows Boise and reminds me of my brother (as he's a Farm Boy, too).



This video that's been floating around on the facespace from other volunteers. Aside from the hand holding of men (which is not a cultural norm here, although I understand it is in Africa) this is pretty much spot on.

Okay, that's enough for now. Now that I can post things whenever I want, I can make these as short as I want.

Life these days

Last week was the March Equinox, meaning temperatures are supposed to start dropping. All day I went around saying, “It’s the first day of autumn! It’s the first day of autumn!” and no one really knew how to respond, or was at least perplexed as to why I kept bringing this up. “Well, it sure doesn’t feel like it,” the secretary of the high school said as all of us wiped sweat from our foreheads and fanned our faces.

And sure enough, it’s still really hot. I’ve already decided that if someone were to make a Lifetime movie of my time in Peru, the actress would A) never wear makeup, ever, B) have a constant shine or gleam to her face and occasional bead of sweat fall off her brow, C) always be pitting-out or have boob-sweat visible on her shirt, and D) speak in an American-accented Spanish with frequent grammatical errors—the whole movie. She is also not allowed to wear more than a handful of outfits, which have to look more and more stretched and worn out as the movie goes on. But, no one is going to make a movie of my time here. While I think this little adventure has some good quality storytelling aspects to it, it’s not that interesting.

 

Things have definitely been slow lately, as school has started but I am still in planning stages with teachers and directors on my actual involvement within school. Thankfully this month I’ve had some opportunities to get out and actually enjoy the outdoors. I was worried January through March was going to consist of me trapped in my house hiding from the scorching sun and simultaneously roasting and suffocating inside, as my house is literally like a brick oven. My friend Zack and I (who lives in a site close by) made it a small tradition in the last month of summer to ride our bikes to the beach in my district on Fridays and spend the day exploring and hanging out. The beach town is about 11 miles from my town, and it is a small and desolate place. We pretty much have the entire beach to ourselves except for a couple fishermen. The highway out to the beach town is fairly desolate too, with a few small towns and villages on the way. The highway, as in the asphalt, was just laid down in the last few years. Before that it was a dirt road that I’ve been told would occasionally become obscured by the wind and drifting sand. Every time Zack and I rode through any of the small towns on the way to the beach everyone in town would stop what they were doing and watch us dumbfounded. Small children playing would stop to point and shout, “¡Mira!” Zack made the point that we are probably the first white people to ride our bikes out there, and I think he’s right. We’re probably also one of the first people to ride our bikes all the way to the beach from my town, as it is not really part of Peruvian culture to ride your bike for anything other than short errands or transportation to work, and if you need to go further you take public transportation. We got three bike rides to the beach in before the end of summer and our schedules filled up making it impossible to have such a day. It was really nice to do something that I probably would do in the U.S., like ride my bike with a friend on a summer day. 

Another fun part of the bike rides is it helped in my current plans to organize a “bicicletada” out to the beach as part of the town anniversary celebration this May. My host dad presented the idea to me after finding out I am training for the Pacasymayo Half-Marathon, which is in a town in La Libertad that was started by a volunteer (along with a 5K, 10K, and full Marathon). We’re not going to make the bicicletada a competition though, as the main idea is to get participation and people out riding their bikes. I took the idea to a group of youth environment promoters to give the bicicletada a healthy environment and healthy lifestyle theme, and of course involve youth in the planning of the event. The idea must be pretty popular, as the other day I ran into the mayor and he told me he had heard about our plans and wanted to get involved. (Which, in itself makes me giddy, because that means this might actually work!)

The next few months are going to be interesting, as they are going to be the true test of whether all of the plans I’ve been working on recently are going to come to fruition. This April I am planning on starting a health promoters group Pasos Adelantes, which is a Peace Corps created program to train a youth group on healthy lifestyles and HIV/AIDS and pregnancy prevention. The youth group then does their own presentations with their peers and classmates as well as run events in the community to promote HIV/AIDS awareness.

Partnered with that plan is to start an Escuela de Padres (classes for parents) that are twice a month to work on better communication with their children and talk to them about important topics like values, morals, responsibility, s-e-x, and just showing affection and love towards their children in general. On the coast it’s a little better, but a lot of Peruvians don’t show very much affection towards their children and even worry they might make their sons gay by hugging or kissing them. I am working with some of the teachers in the high school on this project, including my host mom, and it is the plan I am both most excited about and most afraid of. 1) I’m working with parents on behavior change; 2) I’m relying heavily on community members to make this happen. 

I’m still working with the NATS (niños y niñas, adoloscentes trabajadores) a youth group of children workers. We meet every Saturday and go over varying topics like self-esteem and right now we’re starting on leadership and teamwork skills. They are so quiet and have a hard time interacting within the group setting, and I think I kind of intimidate them. But, they come back week after week.

I’m also still working with the dance group once a week on vocational orientation. I know I’m not supposed to have favorites, but these kids are my favorite. They welcomed me into their group my first week visiting and have consistently wanted to spend time with me in the last 7 months I’ve been here. They’re older, between 16 and 22 years old, and they’re also my friends in site. I don’t just see them at our meetings, but I hang out with them every now and again. They don’t shy away from me and they don’t treat me like a novelty item either. They are the young leaders in the town, looked up to by other kids and trusted by authority figures. Some of them are also the kids in charge of the youth group of environment promoters. They have connections in the community that I need in order to get stuff done. They’re motivated, they’re young, and they really care about their community. They rock, period.

As to what things I will be doing regularly in the schools, I have yet to make any solid plans. I’m having a hard time because I have come to realize working in with every age group in the high school is kind of impossible. If I spread myself too thin just so I can make an appearance in every class and let them all know I want to work with every single one of them, then I am just doing quantity over quality. Not to mention, just like anywhere, some kids aren’t motivated to do extra work or projects. I really need to pick a group and focus on them, and while in some cases it is obvious who that needs to be, it is hard to have to tell kids I’m not going to work with them as much.

Well, I have Internet IN MY ROOM now, which means I should be able to keep this blog updated a little easier, as well as stay in touch. It hopefully will not mean a drop in productivity. I mean, I’ve had internet at my fingertips for years until I got here. Funny how being somewhat deprived for awhile makes me feel overwhelmed to have access to it within the comfort of my own bedroom. This could be dangerous.

I’ll try to post some good anecdotes and stories in the future.

Miss and love everybody!

Thank God for Moms

Last few days have been rough. It's taken a lot of restraint to not do any of the following:

• Scream at my youth group/people around me.
• Walk away from my youth group, never to speak to them again.
• Punch children in the face.
• Punch every Peruvian man in the face.
• Lock myself in my room for a week.

Now, you might wonder, "What on earth could provoke such a response from mild-mannered, sweet Amanda?" (Okay, maybe not the last two things, but you're still probably curious). Well, it's not just one or two things, but quite a few things built up. Luckily for my own sanity, I am somewhat able to identify some of the reasons why.

I have come to realize that when I attend a in-service training from Peace Corps, it does not come without it's downfalls. At trainings I am spending time with my fellow 17ers who share a common goal and sense of purpose in our work,  and we are running on a very structured, punctual schedule and I am pumped full of ideas, motivation, and new goals to achieve, and it's like I am once again reminded of the endless possibilities in the world and the power one person can have in bringing change.

And then I get back to site. 

Then I am quickly reminded that Peace Corps isn't like that. Peru doesn't work that way. There is no 8-5 day with everyone plugging away being productive. People don't care as much about the things you're working on as you do. People think it's important, but that's why YOU'RE there, so YOU can do it. People want me to teach them English. Wait, scratch that, they want to learn English through osmosis of me being there (but for them to be there would be too much to ask. Attend class? Why?), because Lord knows actually studying and practicing is too much to ask. This usually results in a bit of depression, and a lot of, "What's the point?"

We can have all the training sessions we want about the new and amazing things we can achieve in our sites with our counterparts and in our communities, and get all the happy fuzzy feelings of the possibility of accomplishment, but the reality is this is an uphill battle, and sometimes as a volunteer you are the only one pushing the cart filled with changes needed to make those dreams come true.

In other words-- back to square one.

And aside from all that, I just had a situation with a youth group that is too long to explain, but the jist of it is they organized an activity while I was gone that I never would've endorsed because of the obvious sexist bull-crap involved that is so ingrained in them, and then when the activity flopped I became the scape goat. Next time I see them, they're getting a gender charla and a "take-responsibility-for-your-actions" charla-- if we ever speak again.

Anyways...

The reason for this post:

Obviously, I've been feeling down (I know, so soon after my last "hopeful" blog post).

Times like these, receiving things from home is a godsend.

Today I received a package from my Mom that was filled with so many goodies I could feel the black, cold place where my heart once was slightly warm up again.

What you are seeing is 2 kids magazines (English, of course), JIF Peanut Butter/Chocolate packs, mini Cadbury Eggs, Wherthers, Crystal Light packets, and a dress.

It fits!

It's the small things. Thank you, Mom! Your packages mean more to me than you know. Thanks for everyone back home who is so supportive, and has been sending me care-packages, letters, postcards, etc. It means SO much to me. I have a spot on my wall where I put everything I get in the mail (Seriously! Every postcard/picture/drawing--longer letters get put in an envelope that I'm saving) and I'm sure I will have to start moving to another wall soon.




PS-- Obviously take what I'm saying with a grain of salt. Yes, this is truly how I feel right now, and yes, this is a real reaction I have to events. Somedays, I just want to throw my hands up and say, "I quit!" But, next thing you know, I'll be riding unicorns on rainbows holding hands with all the children of my town and singing, "We Are the World." As my friend Sue said, "I do not like this roller coaster. This roller coaster is the worst roller coaster ever, I want off!"