Unbelievable. We head to Manila this week for our Mid-Service Training. That means we’re half way through our Peace Corps service. We will finish one year from Wednesday. That milestone, along with an honest question from a good friend, has got me to thinkin’…
After looking at some of my pictures on Facebook, Shannon asked me “are you really as happy as you look in your photos?” Hmmmm.
Yes, I am very happy. Yes, I amm very frustrated. Yes, I am feeling hopeless. Yes, I am full of hope...
I read a book called "How Can I Help?" (Ram Dass & Paul Gorman) recently which helped me understand why this experience that is "supposed to be so much about giving" feels so much about me. They say, "Can we see that to be of most service to others, we must face our own doubts, needs, and resistances? We’ve never grown without having done so."
“Welcome to the Viper folks, sit down, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.” I love the anticipation of slowly crawling up that first peak of a roller coaster. “What’s the drop going to be like?”, “how fast will we go?”, “will there be a loop-de-loop?” Waking up each morning here is a little like buckling up. I never know what will happen when I show up at LCP.
Yesterday, after devotion, my counterpart for School-On-Wheels (SOW) told me she would go out to some new communities to recruit more students. “If you will come, it will be very okay.” We met a group of 6 youth under a large tree in a community of shack homes and dirt paths. The group displayed interest in joining SOW, so we asked to speak to their parents. All but one were from the same family. “Take us to your house” instructed my counterpart. “Oh ma’am, we don’t have a house.” Sure enough, after making our way through a series of thrown together homes with scrap wood walls and tin roofs, we met the parents cooking on their open fire next to their tarp home. All of the possessions of somewhere between 8 and 12 people fit in a small heap along one edge of their tarp wall. My counterpart was so stricken afterward. She said to me, "if we really listen to their stories, all we will want to do is sit down and cry." I might be a little twisted. I haven't figured it out yet... and there's something about landing in those kinds of situations that makes me feel ________ (grateful? human? connected?)
“All right everyone hands up and scream!” The thrill of a rapid decent is two- fold: it’s just plain fun to go fast, and there’s still the anticipation of what is coming next. This is the best spot for taking pictures… and is akin to riding my bike around town. I get ridiculous pleasure out of counting the number of pedicabs I pass as I weave in and out of traffic. And, with “traffic suggestions” over “traffic laws”, I never know what might happen on the road. A jeepney ahead of me might make an un-signaled stop to drop off a passenger, a speeding bus might appear to be heading directly for me (you can travel faster in the wrong lane, you know), or a local will shout out “hey Joe, can I have your bike?” and I realize he’s talking to me just about the same time I nearly rear-end the jeepney. Being alert and a little aggressive seems the best way to move with traffic. I like that.
“Hold your breath as you loop-de-loop!” In the loop, there are moments of upside-down exhilaration, counteracted with instants of terror. Hello… marriage. Turns out we’re not superhuman aliens immune to the challenges posed by uniting two independent individuals. I’m learning a lot about myself as we learn how to be “us”. Shannon describes this best. “Getting to know each other more and more, and the demands of being a partnership.... sure does stir up some things. It was so much easier to have my insanity moments in private.” I guess that’s just it. Being with someone I adore and respect challenges me to understand my “insanity” so I can get over it. It’s just that it can be hard work and sometimes I’m lazy/fearful/in denial/resistant and sometimes I want Jacques to be the one to “just know” so I don’t have to do the work. Seriously, it finally hit me the other day that Jacques really doesn’t know what I want or need until I tell him. Duh. And just because I think I’ve told him, doesn’t mean he actually understands. Double duh. Some of our conversations feel like a bad rendition of “Who’s on First”. I'm not sure this is so much about being in the Peace Corps, as much as it is trying to figure out the whole marriage thing. 
And the exhilaration comes from having a partner in crime to take on new adventures with. We were able to get certified to scuba dive two weeks ago. Life under the sea is breathtaking and mystical. Last week we rode our bikes an hour away to stay at a little place with good food and a great beach. Our pictures sometimes make it seem as though we’re less in the Peace Corps and more on an extended honeymoon. Work hard... play hard?
“Please stay seated as we come to a stop.” I have never liked the let down of the finish; with the grinding of the brakes on metal and all the other excited people waiting in line for their turn. There are never pictures of this part of the ride. Much like the end of the ride, the truth is, some things have been really disheartening. I haven’t physically been myself since back surgery. I do a lot of research trying to get answers. Jacques says he often comes home wondering what my next magical cure will be… “if you stand on one foot and sniff a marker”…
When it comes to work, it’s a practice in letting go. I want to complete the projects my organization asks of me in order to meet their need, and what they ask me to I don’t always understand, it sometimes seems inefficient, and it's not always what I’m good at. (Wait, hold on… okay, better. I had to adjust my Princess crown.)
Day-to-day, it’s challenging to be the outsider in a new culture. I have new empathy for “different”: for example, people of color living in very “white” communities, people with disabilities trying to maneuver in a world for the fully able, and immigrants trying to establish themselves in a foreign land. There’s not a day when my white skin, my size, my hair, and my language abilities are not a topic of conversation. (The difference for me is that I am generally very welcomed and respected- because I’m American).
And probably most difficult of all is seeing others in need, wanting desperately to help, and not really knowing what to do.
I'm trying to make sense of this wisdom from "How Can I Help?":
Implicit in any model of who we think we are is a message to everyone about who they are…
the more you see yourself as “helper”, the more need for people to play the passive “helped”.
Sometimes we have to be shown that all of us are better off when we’re free of attachment to
being helpers.
Four of us sat on the Boulevard the other day, eating our lunch under a tree and marveling at the beautiful ocean. Since this is a hot spot for foreigners, it’s also the place-to-be for street children and other beggars. Various groups of youth approached us with open hands extended, “give me money”. We’ve all adapted to this in different ways. Jacques playfully responds, “no, you give me money” with his hand wide open. Akesa holds off and waits for the tourist-trap-junk vendors to come along. They offer her an assortment of sunglasses, she offers them her bike helmet (“very cheap”). Evelyn, being fluent in Cebuano, strikes up conversation. I just smile a lot and try to make eye contact.
I'm glad none of us respond with "let's get out of here". It's tempting to go indoors to a nice air-conditioned building where no one is begging, people are clean, and our heart strings aren't being yanked out of our chests.
"Then I curse my whiteness and I get so damn depressed,
in a world suffering, why should I be so blessed?"
- Brett Dennen “We hope you enjoyed your ride, enjoy the rest of your day.” These roller coaster occurrences happen minute to minute. On Tuesday, as I rode my bike through town inhaling exhaust from a sea of 2-cycle engines, all I could think was “What am I doing here?” Thirty minutes later I was laughing with Bhebhe at LCP about everything, and nothing, and all I could think was “I love this place.”
“C’mon you guys, can we get in line again?” The best part of the ride; making the decision to get in line and do it all over again, or...hop in line for the next, maybe faster, maybe longer ride. “Sit down, buckle up... and smile for a photo!”
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