Quarter-year reflections

Wow, we have been here for three months now... one-quarter of our volunteer time!

Three months seems to bring with it a kind of second-wave culture shock, what you might call an end to the "honeymoon period" of being in a foreign country. At first, everything here was so new and different that even the weird, uncomfortable, or annoying things about Peru were all part of the adventure. Now, however, the house we're living in feels like "my house," the street is "my street," the view out the front window of the guys playing soccer on the field opposite the house has become very familiar. Even the market is becoming an expected sight (only the occasional shocker, like the live frogs I saw being sold the other day, still hits me strongly) and the crazy Peruvian driving has ceased to terrify me at all. But as I begin to regard parts of this life as "normal" and thus expect less of the unexpected, things that didn't bother me before have really started to shock and irritate me. If this is "my house" and "my neighborhood," why do I still get whistled at and stared at every time I step out the door? It seems like I can't walk down the street without passing a group of men and hearing wolf whistles or badly pronounced "Hello"s or just plain "Muy bonita!" ("very pretty!") called out after me. It's something that seems completely normal to the people here, men and women alike, but as an American, I can't stop finding it rude and offensive--and more than anything, it makes both me and Catherine feel our status as outsiders very intensely. We're not the tourists here anymore, we're the tourist attraction, and more than anything I would like to figure out how to become more a part of this community.

The community is too large to meet everyone. Mostly we are friends with the sisters we live with, the other house of nuns down the street, and a group of young Peruvians we met through Dr. Tony's house in Chaclacayo. We have been out dancing with them twice and had a good time--my favorite part was seeing two amazing live salsa bands at the club we went to. But in the neighborhood where we live, we simply don't have friends. We know the people at Fe y Alegría, somewhat; at least, everyone is very warm and kind in greeting us when we walk around the school. The students all call out "Miss! Miss!" or "Señorita! Hola!" when they see you, and lots of them come up to give you a kiss on the cheek, which is how people greet each other in Lima. But students aren't friends, and most of the teachers are married with their own families and lives to attend to... and at the end of the day, most of the people we pass on the street don't know us. Last Sunday my frustration about this boiled over, and we spent a long time talking to the sisters about possible ways for us to meet people. Sister Denise has come up with a few contacts for us, so we'll see how that goes. But we discovered in our discussion that the problem may be that the young women around here simply aren't visible. They either have jobs, go to school and have jobs, or are mothers in their early twenties and spend their time with their families. They seem to live their lives in a more private sphere... at least, that would explain why we constantly see groups of men hanging out on the streets, but never a group of young women.

Anyway, our introduction period is over, we're back from our summer at Tony's and our "real work" is solidly underway... and the question appears, are we doing what we came here to do? Is it worth the enormous effort and all the donations that went into NDMVP's program to bring us here? Are we being of service to this community? So far, in the middle of much chaos as I try to find my niche at the school, one thing is working pretty well: I do feel that my English groups are contributing to those students' learning. Not only are they learning some more English, but I have also been working on some study habits with them. Peruvian students (at least these ones) are very warm, eager, energetic, and interested to learn--a far cry from American high schoolers with their "too cool for school" attitudes--but they have absolutely no study habits, no idea how to learn independently, because they haven't been taught to think critically. The idea of taking notes is foreign to them. If you tell them to copy the board, they all copy beautifully, in two different pen colors and a highlighter, but until you tell them to, they just sit there, not even taking out their notebooks. The other day I said to my Comunicación section, "Take out your notebooks," and one girl asked me in perfect seriousness, "Pens too?" I have been trying to tell them that their notebooks are their own, and if they want to remember something later, they should write down the most important things we talk about in class so they can study it. Some of my English students were actually taking notes on their own the other day and I got so happy!One of the jobs I had hoped to do here, however, has disappeared--the Saturday radio school for adults to get the equivalent of their GED has been moved to another location, and so I can't help with that. I had really looked forward to teaching adults basic reading or math, but even if I were to take on students for tutoring, they couldn't get their certification just from me, they'd have to go to the school in its new location, which is two bus rides away. So that's no longer an option.

Now that we're settling in a little bit, the next step is to really become part of the community, to start actually "living here" instead of just being here on a long vacation. It's not just something I want, or something that would be good for cultural exchange, it's something I need very badly in order not to feel like an exile for my entire year here. I'm still planning to join the church choir here to meet some people and get some singing back in my life. As soon as I get back from our trip to Ica this weekend, I'll go up and introduce myself to them after Mass and ask if I can sing. And we'll see where things go from there. Ideally, it would lead to my meeting a few families, some neighbors perhaps, and getting to know some adults instead of just the kids in the school.

The most overwhelming impression I have after a quarter of a year here is that I am now familiar with a different reality. It's kind of incredible to me that four months ago, I had almost no idea of any different kind of life that the one I had lived for 22 years in the United States--and now the sights and sounds of Peru, the crazy crazy buses, the salsa and reggaeton on the radio, the desert, the colors, the market, the mountains, the people, are all starting to sink into my mind as a coherent world, something that I recognize and maybe even understand a bit. Spanish is coming more and more easily every month. Black hair, almond-brown skin, and deep beautiful brown eyes are now the norm that my brain expects when looking at people, and I realize just how much I stand out when I see another white person and find myself staring at them exactly the way I hate to be stared at by Peruvians. I guess the eye is naturally drawn to whatever is different... anyway, it's starting to feel like I'm here to stay for a while.