I’m at this
really awesome in-between point in my service. I’m over the hump of my first
year and well into my second year. It’s particularly awesome because I’m at
this crazy moment where the old volunteers (who swore in a year before me) have
left and now the new volunteers (who swore in a year after me) have moved to
their sites and are starting the long daunting process of integrating, starting
groups, teaching women and youth, and navigating professionally in totally
distinct culture.
One of the best
parts of my service was being placed in a location with volunteers nearby. One in particular, my best friend Julie, a soon-to-be-nurse from Chicago, taught me most everything I know about being a good Peace Corps Volunteer. Julie
lived in a campo called Palo Verde about an hour and a half away. Our nearest
mutual town was Montecristi so we would often have afternoon reunions in the
pueblo, eat pica pollo and tostones, and head to El Morro beach with our other BFF Andy. More than
just being good friends, however, Julie’s location close by helped me professionally. She was
a fellow health volunteer who arrived the year before I did. She was an
excellent volunteer, winning “Volunteer of the Month” and being an overall
superstar. I was able to watch what she did and try (sometimes failing) at replicating her successes as my months of
service went ticking by. I have Julie to thank for the fact that I can now plan a
successful youth workshop, maintain professional relationships with Dominican
project partners, and motivate groups of women. She gave me advice, helpful
tips, and a toolbox of games, ideas, and tactics for completing my work with women and children. Yes I learned from her, but we also bounced ideas off each other, lamented our challenges together, solved problems, and invented new recipes when we couldn't stand to plan another charla. I admired her so much and
would often wonder how the hell am I ever going to get to where she was at the end of her service? But
somehow it happens and here I am, just as successful as Julie was at the
same point in her service that I am in now at in mine.
Now, there is a
follow-up volunteer in Julie’s site and another one in a nearby site called
Castañuelas. These girls, Tenni and Veronica, were invited to an Escojo youth
workshop that we planned and held in Montecristi last weekend. At the workshop,
I coordinated with Domingo and Josue (Dominican leaders) to help plan for the
coming year with 50 Escojo leaders. I was able to talk and meet Tenni and
Veronica for the first time, but more than that, I got to see how far I’ve come
in my year here. A year ago, exactly, I was new in my site, a stranger in a
foreign land, confused and scared, challenged in so many ways. I didn’t know
who the mayor was, what neighbor I could trust, where to get the best juice in
town, or who would cook for me. To be honest, I was so scared and thought, “How
the HELL am I supposed to do this?” And my favorite doe-eyed new volunteers
asked me the same questions I asked Julie one day long long ago.
What this all
helped me realize is that humans are pretty darn resilient. It’s incredible to
me how all “this” seems so easy now when 12 months ago, if you asked me to plan
a youth workshop and invite 50 kids, I would have burst into tears. Maybe it
doesn’t seem all that remarkable that in one year I’ve only made that much
progress, but listening to their questions, fears and concerns that were the
exact feelings I had a year ago, those overwhelming and yucky feelings came
rushing back. And here I am, how far I’ve come, still standing (I might even
add kicking ass). I no longer feel fear when I walk out my front door, I now
know who will help me and who wont, I know where to buy the best chicken, eat
the best tostones, etc.
If I play my
cards right, I can be the resource and help that Julie was for me. I don’t want
to seem presumptuous and say that my way of integrating and doing it was the
right way but I want to try and pay it forward. Us PCVs are our own best
resources. We watch the cycles of volunteers every day before our very eyes and
seeing others at different points of service helps me think, I have come so
far, I have so far to go, and yes, I will get it done. Plenty have done it
before me, and I will too. I am resilient and can bounce back from anything.
Literally. If this year has taught me anything, it is resilience. A word
meaning flexibility, grit, hardiness, strength, power. I am resilient. Keep
saying it, keep repeating it when needed, because it’s true, PCVs are the
definition of resilience. Collectively, my group has undergone one burglary,
seen one person get macheted to death, attending countless wakes, failed at
starting groups hundreds of times, changed sites and started over, dated and
broken up with host-country nationals (jokingly labeled as tigueres), had loved
ones from home get engaged or married and been unable to attend, lamented
losses in their American families, been beaten down, pushed around, and somehow,
everytime we get back up.
Here's some good quotes to help us remember:
“The greatest glory in living
lies not in never falling,
but in rising every time we fall.”
“There’s no such thing as ruining your
life. Life’s a pretty resilient thing, it turns out.”
“The oak fought the wind and was broken, the willow bent when it must and survived.”
“My scars remind me that I did indeed survive my deepest wounds. That in itself is an accomplishment. And they bring to mind something else, too. They remind me that the damage life has inflicted on me has, in many places, left me stronger and more resilient. What hurt me in the past has actually made me better equipped to face the present.”
“This has been my vocation to make music of what remains.”
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