Paciencia y Flexibildad

As a Peace Corps volunteer, I am expected to practice patience and flexibility, and I think these two traits are always necessary in every avenue of life, but especially when living and working abroad. I pride myself on being both patient and flexible; however, these past few weeks at my new site have been especially trying, and some days I just want to SCREAM.

Everyday is a constant battle where I am forced to prove myself, or mainly my identity as an American, but a South Asian American, to a multitude of Guatemaltecos, primarily to my new host family, which is also very difficult for me, because with my previous host family, there was this instant fit; like I just belonged there. They didn’t ask me borderline racist questions. They were my people. Not really the case here…It is very tiring having to defend my identity to my new host family everyday. As a minority, I knew beforehand that my experience as a Peace Corps volunteer would differ from the average Caucasian American Peace Corps Volunteer. I am not saying that they do not have there share of challenges here, I am just saying our problems or challenges are very different. I am not Caucasian. I am not blonde. I am not white. I am South Asian American.

To many guatemaltecos, especially those in the campo who have never left Quiché, this is absolutely baffling. “Aren’t Americans white? There is no way you could be American. You probably immigrated to the USA but were born elsewhere, right?” These questions are asked with absolute certainty that I must be mistaken. I try to be patient, and actually, I believe I have been patient, but when every day my host mom introduces me to different people as “Osama Bin Laden’s daughter,” and says that I am from Afghanistan, some days I just want to shout, “you make NO sense and that is not funny…where did you even come up with that crap!!!!” (Of course I would never do that…not only for the Peace Corps core expectations, but because for those of you who know me, you know I am a mediator, a pacifist, and well, let’s be honest, pretty darn passive…)

However, I do remember the Peace Corps tenets of flexibility and patience and try to use these moments to educate my host family, as they have no concept of geography or other cultures, or diversity in general, and the Peace Corps is all about cultural exchange. I made the mistake of sharing with my family that I am half Indian and half Pakistani (should have just stuck with Indian….though then that would be like lying about half of my identity). They equated Pakistan with Afghanistan with Saudi Arabia (don’t ask.), and thus (obviously), I became Bin Laden’s daughter. After the first time this happened, I patiently explained the MANY things wrong with this, and I turned to the world map to help me, as well as to history, etc.,; you know, all for the cultural exchange, the opportunity to teach Guatemaltecos that North Americans come in all shapes, sizes, colors, etc.,

But now it has been TWO WEEKS almost every night at dinner or sometime in the afternoon when this comes up, and I have tried to educate them (Lord knows I have tried), since I know this all stems from IGNORANCE, but as I said before, it is extremely challenging, especially when I am at a baptism with tons of extended family members who I have never met before and my host family introduces me to the crowded room quite loudly as “Osama Bin Laden’s Daughter”…Oh, not awkward at all; great way to make new friends. Thank you very much host family number two. However, I will keep on being me, and hopefully they will see that their “jokes” are not funny, but offensive, and they will realize the numerous things wrong with stereotyping people, and then I will have prevailed with at least part of the Peace Corps’ Mission, which entails helping host country nationals attain a better understanding of who Americans are…

Two Year Roller Coaster

Every day, no every hour, in the Peace Corps is so different from the previous one with indescribable ups and downs, highs and lows. I wake up expecting one thing to occur, but by the end of the day a million other things have transpired...some coming at me completely out of left field...

Today, I wasn't really sure what to expect, and to be quite honest, I was dreading going out in the 40ish degree weather...I was dreading having to wait an hour outside the office in the blistering Quiché cold for my counterpart (host country national who is, for all intents and purposes my partner at work) who always shows up late. And even though I know this, my stupid work ethic keeps me from being anything but punctual...However, I forced myself out of the warmth of my my many, many covers only to find a missed call from my host dad from San Luis Las Carretas (SLLC) (from my first host family). I called him back and he said that he was going to be in Quiché, because he had some business there and hoped that if I wasn't too busy we could grab some coffee. Too busy...ha ha! Don't make me laugh. Considering I still have no idea what the heck my job entails and I spend many hours listening to my counterpart make phone calls (some of them very interesting, like when a friend called her for medical advice for her sick baby, and my counterpart replied that the child was suffering from the evil eye and the mom should draw a cross on the child's head, get holy water, and pray....yes, I swear, this actually happened), I told him I was sure my counterpart would allow me to meet up with him.

Best Monday ever! I love my first host family so much. I was very lucky with them; we just seemed to click. I remember when I first got to that house in SLLC. My host mom and sister were making tamales, and even though I had no idea what I was doing, I joined in and we just starting chatting about all sorts of random things, including of course what most conversations in guatemala center on--boyfriends and marriage (poo poo to both...!). We fell in to an instant comfort right from the get-go. Anyway, it was nice to catch up with my host dad and hear about my host family and how they all miss me (it makes me feel loved!). Most of all, it was just nice knowing that somewhere in Guatemala there are people who get me and who care about me and consider me family. And who I can always turn to (He reminded me that I have to visit...and I intend on going back when I am finally allowed to travel)...

After we met for coffee, I brought him to the office to meet my counterpart, which was an awesome idea, because I think me introducing him to my counterpart showed my counterpart that 1) I am a human being, not just a strange North American and 2) I must be a somewhat decent human being if, in fact (in the words of my host dad) I "won the hearts of my entire family" (his exact words, I swear!). It was also nice to have a parental-like figure bragging about me to my counterpart, just to reassure her that, indeed, I am quite capable...and likeable!!! Or at least some people find me likeable, anyway!!!

So after my host dad left and we said our goodbyes, I was met with yet another surprise...

my counterpart gave me a KEY to the office! This may not seem like a huge deal to anyone other than myself, but let me reassure you all, this was, indeed, a momentous occasion. To me this signified that she is beginning to trust me, if just ever so slightly, more. Also, it means I no longer have to sit out in the cold, freezing my bum off. Happy days!!!

For me it is these little surprises that make it all worth it. Even though there have been, and will be many more ups and downs, the Peace Corps is a roller coaster that I am willing to ride for the next two years, because the highs make it all worth it...or maybe i am just an adrenaline junky and like the rush...or maybe I am a masochist...!

Día de los Muertos

Yesterday was Día de los Muertos (or difuntos...), and I was lucky enough to be invited to partake in the activities with my new host family. At first I was kind of dreading it as holidays in general can be slightly awkward, but a holiday in a foreign country with people you literally just met the day before equals a recipe for extreme awkwardness if you ask me...(Awkward encounters seem to be one of the main themes of my peace corps adventure thus far...!) However... I was pleasantly surprised, and any awkward feelings I had were drowned out by the immense beauty of the holiday.

My new host family and I woke up at 4am to go visit the cemetery (Lucky for us we didn't have to walk far as the cemetery is across the street; however, people come from all over, close by and far away...some walking, some via buses or car...). Most people wake up early, go to the cemetery, and then decorate the graves/tombstones/mausoleums of their loved ones. My host family started the preparations the day before by cooking a billion tamales and fiambre, which is typical dia de los muertos food--basically like every vegetable and type of meat possible (I am not the hugest fan) but it is pretty fancy stuff since it includes a little bit of everything, and meat here is pretty expensive, especially the fancy sausages they include. I helped my "nieces" make garlands of flowers, which was actually pretty fun and easy (I had never done this before!).

After all the preparations, we went to bed by 8pm in order to wake up at 4am! And as soon as we got to the cemetery we got to work decorating tombstones. My host family explained that on this one day they are able to honor their deceased family members and show them they are not forgotten by going all out with the decorations. At first I thought it was all a tad morbid--walking around graves and decorating them--but as the day went on and the decorations kept on getting more elaborate (as though people were competing with one another to prove that they loved their deceased family members more) I was able to see the true beauty of the holiday...A full day dedicated to your deceased loved ones to ensure they are never forgotten. After decorating and sitting around at the graves for a while (praying and singing), we headed back to the house to eat a feast of fiambre and tamales. (Tamales, YAY! Fiambre...not for me!) In the old days, families not only decorated graves, but they also cooked the deceased family member's favorite food (or a fancy dish like fiambre) and left it on the tombstone along with alcohol...however, nowadays this is no longer done because of wild dogs and Bolitos (drunkards!/ usually homeless alcoholics)...

Anyway, I was honored that I got to partake in such an intimate family celebration...

Take Two...

Starting all over again in a new community is somewhat frustrating and awkward...and I wish I could just fast forward to three or so months from now when I am feeling more settled and comfortable here in my new, and very permanent, site. Just as I had gotten completely (almost) comfortable in my training town and with my training host family in the small aldea of San Luis Las Carretas, I was snatched out of my this created comfort zone and placed in Santa Cruz del Quiché with a whole new family, who has never had a Peace Corps volunteer. This means not only do I have to explain who I am and what I am doing here, I also have to fully explain the Peace Corps...over and over and over and over again...because the Peace Corps is a strange concept to many people (even including within the United States) and explaining it in a foreign language can be quite trying....

So for the second time, I find myself trying to carve a niche for myself in a family that is not my own. While my new family is very gracious and warm, the fit between me and them hasn't been as instantaneous as it seemed to be with my prior host family. They also ask a lot more questions, many of which are the same questions over and over again...like,

"do you speak English well?"

"I sure hope so since it is my native language...!" (Ok, I don't actually respond that way, but I want to!)

"Wait, so you do speak English?"

"Yes, I was born in the United States where the national language is English, and therefore, I had to learn it"

"But your parents are Indian?"

"Yes, but I grew up speaking English in the house"

and this conversation carries on indefinitely...

or: "Wait, were you really born in the United States? Because you don't look like other North Americans"

"So, you are American?"

"You were born in America?"

then I have to explain that the USA is very diverse, etc., which is fine, but having to do this like 30 times a day, sometimes explaining this concept to the same individual is trying...And then when the day is over and a new day begins, they ask me the same questions, as though maybe I was lying the day before and they are testing me, waiting for me to admit to not speaking english and not being born in the USA....Actually, in retrospect it is actually pretty funny, but at the time this usually happens, in my head I am super frustrated, but of course I answer patiently...over...and over...and over again....

Sometimes I feel like I am playing 20 questions, except it is more like a billion questions, and sometimes I just don't feel like answering anymore. But of course I have to, and of course I have to understand where my host family is coming from. They haven't met many North Americans, so, understandably, they are curious. It is just hard having to start from scratch...again...However, I did it once, and I can do it again...!

So, take two...