Eyes

I think I found that special something that renders Peace Corps as extraordinary and unlike any other experience – the eyes of a child. Our work is constantly with children. Either we’re in the classroom with them, being greeted by a stampede of them as we walk anywhere in our villages, or playing ball with them. Translation: exchanges of looks from children 24/7. This work infused with experiencing a child’s love day-in and day-out forms the experience that inexplicably changes all of us volunteers to our core.

There’s something about the eyes of a child - their innocence, and love for the world, that gives my soul something exceptional. It’s that unique feeling we all feel some days, sort of a “high” or “enlightenment.” A calm. I think because I get to see these precious eyes and receive such pure love from children that I work with, I am given something very astonishing that is doing wonders for my life…helping me grow to be a better person. Their looks literally fill my heart with love for others.

Wherever we look, we’re locking eyes with the innocent eyes of a child. We are reminded of true purity, virtue and goodness in an outwardly tainted, warped world. This reminder in the midst of such daily strain teaches us that particular “Peace Corps perspective” that makes us Returning Peace Corps volunteers “so weird” from everyone else when we get back to the states. Little by little, whether we notice or not, our hearts and souls have been molded by seeing what really matters – the loving look a child gives you is irreplaceable. Seeing that every single day for two years does a number on you. For a glimpse of time, we see that real goodness still exists and always will exist.

This is the foundation of our newfound lens of how to be, what to do in life, what to worry about, what to care less about, etc. This is a shift in your beliefs and how you carry yourself from the moment you landed in country to the time you leave. The shift involving more peace, more hope than the average nine to five worker. We’re more lighthearted, having learned that life is short. Why waste it by not laughing and enjoying it as much as we can? These changes are a gift. The catalyst – loving looks from a child.

Our eyes always give us away. Whatever emotion, our eyes say it. They’re beautiful sources of hope and affection. I actually think words to put our thoughts together eloquently never goes well – we always sound a little stupid. I wish I could invent my own language based on actions. Say it with your eyes. People understand and some will never be the same.

Wilson

So pissed

Bianca, my infamous 6 year old tree-climbing, sailor-swearing, tom boy for a neighbor, found my secret, super special, only to be used on "bad days" stash of Reeses Peanut Butter cups and ate them ALL and I had a HEART ATTACK about it. What I don't get: I am perma-high to waiting for hours in the middle of nowhere if the car breaks down, don't even care if people don't show up to my meetings anymore - more reading time for me, WHATEVER, and if I shit myself due to giardia, I don't even flinch anymore. But the Reeses? UNFORGIVABLE. Not playing with her for like, A FEW DAYS!

"CRAZY LUCY"

She signed herself up for a bike race without even knowing how to ride a bike. She ended up breaking her arm but says she beat them all because she passed the finish line in the ambulance first. She yells “hija” (daughter) at the first sight of me and then laughs to herself. She’s always laughing. She’s loud. She has two sons, Steven (5 years old) and Neizer (9 years old) that call me sister, “hermana.” They are just like her. She says the second her cast comes off, we’re going on a celebratory run. She has these bent, off-brown glasses with the tiniest lenses. She looks dorky but once she opens her mouth, you can tell those glasses have seen her through many bumpy adventures, but they add a delicateness to her. She laughs then she smiles as she looks off in the distance, as if trying to prolong the good moment as much as possible. The smile never leaves her face. She’s got eyes that tell a story.

She’s really taken me in. When I need a hug, she’s there. I feel like she is a “mama” to me. I say I love you to her because I mean it. She tells me to wear my jacket, I’m going to catch a cold, even though Tumbes is hot as hell. It’s endearing that she worries. She really cares, and I really care for her. Her spirit is so infectious – she’s a real warrior. Always making her boys do their homework before playing, disciplining them so make something of themselves one day. Cooking, cleaning, taking care of the animals. Her back hurts, but she still does it. Her arm is broken, but she still runs. She’s got a hard life – every woman here does, but the way Lucy does it is different. She leads her life in a manner I respect deeply. She is never without energy, courage and a smile. Lucy is the mother I’ve needed here in Oidor.

Love me some Livingstone!

I will go anywhere, provided it be forward.

David Livingstone

Acceptance

“Peace comes not by establishing a calm outward setting so much as by inwardly surrendering to whatever the setting.”

Hubert Van Zeller

Things that give me great joy

I love that Gisleni, who's in my prof pic and has a serious speech impediment, knows how to say my name now. I love that one of my Pasos Adelante kids, Steven, knows how to bake chocolate chip cookies on his own now because I've made them so many times with his mom at their house. I love bike riding through the farms of mango trees and platanos and getting all muddy. I love that my house visits/my work with the health promoter, Yuvicsa, always end up in us talking with the family for hours laughing our heads off at the stupidest shit. I love that kids pack into my room and we watch movies until we're all passed out. I love that when the power goes out, the town nurse and I lay a blanket out front of the health post and look for shooting stars with her son, Arian. I love the bike ride to the next little village down the road to get internet because Keren, my 10 year old neighbor, rides on the bike with me in front, or going with Helson, her brother, 'cause we always end up racing. I love that Bianca and her baby sister, Fernanda, know how to turn on my iPod and speakers so we can dance. I love that whenever I come home, Bianca comes running to the car and grabs my bags even if they're too heavy for her - she tries, and she's so damn cute for it. I love sitting in the hammock and reading my neuroscience or biology books, knowing I'm preparing well for the next step in my life. I love walking around my town 'cause it may be small with a whopping 600 people, but there's an always adventure around every corner.

There are moments you realize you're doing the right thing in life and you're exactly where you're supposed to be. I'm growing up and going through a lot of tough realizations out here but I am so, so undeniably happy and fulfilled that I am truly learning to be a part of something bigger. We all gotta remember how small we are and accept the way the world is. Just keep rolling with the punches.

Happiness in a quote

“What oxygen is to the lungs, such is hope to the meaning of life.” 

Heinrich Emil Brunner

Lavamos las manos y no nos enfermamos!

For my project Viviendas Saludables ("Healthy Homes") I basically work with mothers, pregnant woman and children to try to get them to adopt better health practices to prevent diseases. Right now the nurse, health promoters and I are going house to house in my small village, Oidor, and putting up "tipy-taps". An easy, AFFORDABLE station for washing your hands. We'll keep doing these visits with different health education themes for most of my service. Basically we waltz into the house, make some jokes, sit and talk with the families, then get to work on an educational session of some health topic. My favorite visit so far was to Juanito's house. He's 3 years old and saw the nurse with me in his house and started screaming bloody murder. None of the kids like our poor nurse, Grace, because she's the one that gives them their shots. Juanito was NOT HAPPY to see her to say the least, but then once he realized we were just washing our hands, his smile came back.

Synder

Aline

Snyder learning how to use the tipy tap

singing a song about washing our hands with Aline and Snyder's mom, Asterik

teaching Luis how to make the tipy tap

Luis' mom

GISLENI!! my little cutie pie!!

Gisleni trying to help me out

Evelyn, 15 years old

my neighbors, Karen and Helson

Juanito's face is in between all the hands

Add caption

Juanito helping me make the tipy tap

Have Hope

You’re here and all everybody wants from you is SOMETHING. They always want SOMETHING. I came as a volunteer to give an impoverished community everything I’ve got but some days I am worn down and don’t want to give because most of the time, things don’t go your way. You’re constantly faced with a battle. I often feel stripped, as if there’s nothing left inside of me to give. This happens in the classroom setting specifically. I’m here for these mothers and children and truly want to help someone – ANYONE - but when it comes down to your mental health, where is the line between giving ALL YOU HAVE and giving TOO MUCH? Is it possible to give all you have? Do we all have that Mother Teresa gene, do some people’s go dormant? Am I capable of opening my heart to that extent? Am I wise enough to do it without feeling like people will just take everything out of me and never refill my spirit back? Is it selfish to care about people giving me something in return for what I give them? How much do I trust in humanity anyways?

For example, after a class on preventing teenage pregnancy, some of the kids obviously didn’t care and thought it was some sort of joke and hey – these are teenagers, of course they’re going to be little shits sometimes. Lord knows I was at that age. During class I found myself suppressing the thought, “hey I have no idea who you are but I came from far away to help you. I made some serious sacrifices with my family and friends to be here – to motivate you just an inch more to succeed, and I know it’s not much, but every little bit makes a difference in the environment you’ve grown up in, and you’re going to disrespect me? I should just walk out and not care if you fail in life. Why did I even care in the first place? How naïve was I to think I can actually change a life?” The fact of the matter is to change a life is extremely hard. You don’t do it by the millions, that’s for sure; you do it one person at a time. But how does someone shelve these thoughts and keep believing? What is in our human nature that gives us hope? I’d think it’s every day acts of kindness. I’m sure there are plenty opinions for that question.

 
Whatever it is that fuels me with hope, I need to figure it out because it’s proving a source of tremendous strength for me.