There's this massive plastic, thin-rope ball that's been sitting in the corner of my room for a while now. Stretched out, the entire thing covers about 10 meters. I use it for activities with my youth and have gotten into the habit of just haphazardly wrapping it around my hands when I'm done and tossing it back in my bag.
The result, of course, is this clump of garbage-bag thread so gnarly and caught with knots that it no longer correctly unwinds, and I've had to resort to toilet paper as a thread substitute.
A few days ago, I glanced over and decided that it was time. I would spend my Saturday afternoon unwinding, untangling — and totally conquering this rat's nest.
Full of determination and imagined stamina, I dived in.
The beginning started pretty easy. A few knots here, a loopty-loop there. I started off slow, not pulling so hard as to ensnarl the mass further. After a while, however, I lost my patience. The plastic thread kept catching, and when I stopped to admire my progress, I realized that I hadn't gotten very far at all.
I started yanking the thread in every direction, randomly grabbing pieces and jerking them away from the hellish center knot. Sometimes it made it better, sometimes worse. Sometimes I thought I was making headway and smiled at myself smugly — only to find yet another series of impediments, making my face fall.
You can imagine how frustrated I was. I stepped back, took a breath, watched the ducks eat banana leaves in the backyard and tried again. Whenever I reached the brink of exasperation, I averted my attention — I wrote to-do lists, re-ordered my stack of books, turned on my fan. But after a brief break, I went back to my project, full of fervor and with a sense of duty.
I pulled and tugged at random strings at lightning speeds. I delicately slipped one piece over another as if handling lace. I seriously contemplated just cutting off the rest of the stupid thing and calling it a day.
After a while, I looked down to check my progress again.
And wouldn't you know it? I was actually getting somewhere. It took me nearly an hour, but I eventually had my garbage-bag thread tightly wound into a nice, neat little ball.
When I was all done, I set it aside and admired it for awhile. Seriously, a ball of thread is NOT that big of a deal. But I was proud of it. And mostly I was proud that I didn't give up on it.
And then I thought, Hmm ... what I nice, neat little metaphor for my Peace Corps experience.
PC Book Club: ´Mountains Beyond Mountains´ and ´Eat Pray Love´
There are some books that get a lot of traffic among Peace Corps volunteers.
I'm speaking, naturally, of the typical stories of one person single-handedly saving the world (i.e. Three Cups of Tea); societal examinations (like Freakonomics, The God Delusion); easy-to-read escapes into fantasy, such as Harry Potter (in Spanish, of course), and, – you guessed it – the ubiquitous tales of self-discovery.
Copies of these paperbacks travel from site to site, collecting bits of aerial sand from the desert and dirt smudges from the mountains. Pages are dog-eared and water-stained, riddled with underlines and musings in the margins. Covers are torn with coffee rings. Each one wholly abused and loved, then passed along.
I've read my fair share of "The Peace Corps Classics," along with some pretty terrible chick lit, and I wanted to highlight some of the most impactive books I've read so far.
Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder didn't change my life, but it did shake it up a bit. In this biography of Dr. Paul Farmer, Kidder follows this modern-day public health icon around the world, from Haiti to Boston, Russia to Peru.
I won't bog you down with the details, but trust me, the gist alone is enough to impress you. Farmer built a clinic in the poorest part of the poorest country in this hemisphere and started Partners in Health, an international aid organization responsible for leading the way in some of the worlds largest health problems, like tuberculosis and HIV.
Did I mention that he started all this work as an undergrad? And kept traveling to and from Haiti while attending Harvard Medical School, arriving just in time to take his exams or do his labs and then hopped back on a plane to the Caribbean?
The guy's intimidating. And probably a little crazy. But it's paying off. Partners in Health was a main player in getting the MDR TB drug prices to plummet, making it possible for people in poorer countries to access treatment.
Farmer and his team at Partners in Health have done more for the world in these past two decades than most do in their lifetimes, and are inspiring a lot of people to try and do the same.
Anyway, the point is, this guy redefines the phrase "doing your best." And has made me reevaluate how I view my time here in the Peace Corps. Perhaps not as my one big gesture, but the first of many small ones.
The book is easy to get through when you're not going through an existential crisis. And I recommend it to anyone with any interest at all in global health. Kidder is also a fantastic writer. Even if I had no interest in humanity, I'd still find his portrayal of this superhero/megadork utterly fascinating.
For all two of you on the planet who have yet to read Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, I won't spoil the juicy plot points. But I will tell you it's a basic self-discovery story of a divorcee who finds pleasure in Italy, spirituality in India, and love and balance in Bali.
I totally thought I'd hate it.
But, despite myself, I found it easy to connect with Gilbert. I might not be locked up in an Ashram in India or on the porch of a medicine man in Bali, but I get the need to find a balance between pleasure and discipline and the desire to find God in your circumstances.
When I expected mac and cheese, Gilbert gave me beef stew — meaning, I thought it would be cheesy and unsatisfying, but it was really substantive and gratifying. And her personal story and inner dialogue forced to the surface some thoughts that I, well, needed to think about.
Now I just hope Julia Roberts can do Gilbert justice.
I'm speaking, naturally, of the typical stories of one person single-handedly saving the world (i.e. Three Cups of Tea); societal examinations (like Freakonomics, The God Delusion); easy-to-read escapes into fantasy, such as Harry Potter (in Spanish, of course), and, – you guessed it – the ubiquitous tales of self-discovery.
Copies of these paperbacks travel from site to site, collecting bits of aerial sand from the desert and dirt smudges from the mountains. Pages are dog-eared and water-stained, riddled with underlines and musings in the margins. Covers are torn with coffee rings. Each one wholly abused and loved, then passed along.
I've read my fair share of "The Peace Corps Classics," along with some pretty terrible chick lit, and I wanted to highlight some of the most impactive books I've read so far.
Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder didn't change my life, but it did shake it up a bit. In this biography of Dr. Paul Farmer, Kidder follows this modern-day public health icon around the world, from Haiti to Boston, Russia to Peru.
I won't bog you down with the details, but trust me, the gist alone is enough to impress you. Farmer built a clinic in the poorest part of the poorest country in this hemisphere and started Partners in Health, an international aid organization responsible for leading the way in some of the worlds largest health problems, like tuberculosis and HIV.
Did I mention that he started all this work as an undergrad? And kept traveling to and from Haiti while attending Harvard Medical School, arriving just in time to take his exams or do his labs and then hopped back on a plane to the Caribbean?
The guy's intimidating. And probably a little crazy. But it's paying off. Partners in Health was a main player in getting the MDR TB drug prices to plummet, making it possible for people in poorer countries to access treatment.
Farmer and his team at Partners in Health have done more for the world in these past two decades than most do in their lifetimes, and are inspiring a lot of people to try and do the same.
Anyway, the point is, this guy redefines the phrase "doing your best." And has made me reevaluate how I view my time here in the Peace Corps. Perhaps not as my one big gesture, but the first of many small ones.
The book is easy to get through when you're not going through an existential crisis. And I recommend it to anyone with any interest at all in global health. Kidder is also a fantastic writer. Even if I had no interest in humanity, I'd still find his portrayal of this superhero/megadork utterly fascinating.
For all two of you on the planet who have yet to read Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, I won't spoil the juicy plot points. But I will tell you it's a basic self-discovery story of a divorcee who finds pleasure in Italy, spirituality in India, and love and balance in Bali.
I totally thought I'd hate it.
But, despite myself, I found it easy to connect with Gilbert. I might not be locked up in an Ashram in India or on the porch of a medicine man in Bali, but I get the need to find a balance between pleasure and discipline and the desire to find God in your circumstances.
When I expected mac and cheese, Gilbert gave me beef stew — meaning, I thought it would be cheesy and unsatisfying, but it was really substantive and gratifying. And her personal story and inner dialogue forced to the surface some thoughts that I, well, needed to think about.
Now I just hope Julia Roberts can do Gilbert justice.
A (not-quite Fairy) Godmother
We were arguing with our fourth taxista when a woman about 65 walked passed.
The ride from Miraflores to Surco (Lima) should cost about 8 soles (~$3.00), but it was shaping up to be about 15, an unfortunate byproduct of being blatantly foreign. The woman, with perfectly coifed hair and a brightly colored pantsuit decided that that was just not acceptable.
She asked us where we were going, which was not wholly uncommon. People are usually curious about where we're from and headed. We were polite but non-embracing and moved onto the next taxi, who, again wanted 15 soles.
The woman, now really appalled, interrupted, stuck her head inside the window and proceeded to ream out the driver. While the conversation in its entirety was out of my earshot, she said things along the lines of how terrible he was for trying to take advantage of innocent tourists and how foreigners are people too and how Peruvians need to be kind to visitors so that they will come back and tourism will continue and help pick them out of this miserable recession. And oh, by the way, you selfish jerk, the trip costs 8 soles. Not 15.
In the end, she insisted he give us the trip for 8 soles and then – can you believe this? – she PAID for it! She gave the driver a 20, demanded her change and then turned to us to apologize for her fellow countrymen's rudeness.
We thanked her profusely, but she waved it away and thanked us for wanting to visit her country. With that, she shook our hands with both of hers and headed back down the street on her way.
The ride from Miraflores to Surco (Lima) should cost about 8 soles (~$3.00), but it was shaping up to be about 15, an unfortunate byproduct of being blatantly foreign. The woman, with perfectly coifed hair and a brightly colored pantsuit decided that that was just not acceptable.
She asked us where we were going, which was not wholly uncommon. People are usually curious about where we're from and headed. We were polite but non-embracing and moved onto the next taxi, who, again wanted 15 soles.
The woman, now really appalled, interrupted, stuck her head inside the window and proceeded to ream out the driver. While the conversation in its entirety was out of my earshot, she said things along the lines of how terrible he was for trying to take advantage of innocent tourists and how foreigners are people too and how Peruvians need to be kind to visitors so that they will come back and tourism will continue and help pick them out of this miserable recession. And oh, by the way, you selfish jerk, the trip costs 8 soles. Not 15.
In the end, she insisted he give us the trip for 8 soles and then – can you believe this? – she PAID for it! She gave the driver a 20, demanded her change and then turned to us to apologize for her fellow countrymen's rudeness.
We thanked her profusely, but she waved it away and thanked us for wanting to visit her country. With that, she shook our hands with both of hers and headed back down the street on her way.
Cumplo 24! (My second Peruvian birthday)
My friend Ryan flew 1/4 around the world to spend my 24th birthday with me in Peru. We met in Lima, and traveled north to see the pre-Incan culture of Chan Chan and then up to my site in Tumbes. Along the way, we saw ruins, dances and beaches, conducted hand-washing and HIV charlas in the schools, and ate heaping piles of white rice.
Oh, and my host mom killed a duck for me. All in all, it was one of the best weeks I've had in Peace Corps.
Street painter in the coastal city of Trujillo
My youth health promoters facilitating a condom race
The health post ladies baked me a cake!
Ryan with my host family
Me at the beach of Huanchaco
At the ruins of Huaca de la Luna. Citizens at the time had to pay a tax of a certain number of adobe bricks. They marked them to prove they had paid the full amount. I like the smiley face one.
Ryan and I at the ruins of the Huaca de la Luna
Tentacles of a sea creature, teeth of a mountain lion and eyes of an owl – representing the 3 levels of the world in Moche culture: underworld, present life and heavens.
Northern coastal dance called La Marinera
Ryan and I at the ruins of Chan Chan.
Oh, and my host mom killed a duck for me. All in all, it was one of the best weeks I've had in Peace Corps.
Street painter in the coastal city of Trujillo
My youth health promoters facilitating a condom race
The health post ladies baked me a cake!
Ryan with my host family
Me at the beach of Huanchaco
At the ruins of Huaca de la Luna. Citizens at the time had to pay a tax of a certain number of adobe bricks. They marked them to prove they had paid the full amount. I like the smiley face one.
Ryan and I at the ruins of the Huaca de la Luna
Tentacles of a sea creature, teeth of a mountain lion and eyes of an owl – representing the 3 levels of the world in Moche culture: underworld, present life and heavens.
Northern coastal dance called La Marinera
Ryan and I at the ruins of Chan Chan.The Pilgrims
Today I drove past a line of pilgrims walking along the PanAmerican Highway. They were lugging backpacks and sleeping mats and filed against the backdrop of sugar cane fields and rice paddies. Some were carrying crosses. Huge, giant, slabs of wood, decorated with flowers and cloths. Others carried children. Balancing sacks and babies through clouds of dust and passing exhaust.
Most, I'm sure, carried prayers.
They walked in clusters. And alone. All with a single destination: Ayabaca, a town in the highlands of the coastal department of Piura. It's surrounded by green and drowned in the rainy season. But for a week in October, it's the central location for a spiritual celebration apparently worth this impressive trek. A festival to pay homage to el Señor Cautivo.
Year-round, el Señor Cautivo hangs on dashboards and from rear-view mirrors. He looks out over dining room tables and around the necks of his followers.
I don't know anything about this saint. But he reminds me of Jesus. Not the typical light-skinned, bearded Messiah, but browned by the Piura sun. With a crown of thorns and a cross.
It's said that he heals. That he brings blessings on to those who ask for it and watches over those who need guidance. Which is why, I suppose, so many people make this journey. In the merciless sun in the land of eternal summer.
I wonder what their reasons are. To leave their homes, their work, school, their families. To travel for weeks to arrive at the foot of this saint's church. What could they be seeking? Thinking? Praying?
But I only have a second to ponder the possibilities. The van I'm in speeds forward, leaving nothing but dust behind to shroud their pilgrimage.
Most, I'm sure, carried prayers.
They walked in clusters. And alone. All with a single destination: Ayabaca, a town in the highlands of the coastal department of Piura. It's surrounded by green and drowned in the rainy season. But for a week in October, it's the central location for a spiritual celebration apparently worth this impressive trek. A festival to pay homage to el Señor Cautivo.
Year-round, el Señor Cautivo hangs on dashboards and from rear-view mirrors. He looks out over dining room tables and around the necks of his followers.
I don't know anything about this saint. But he reminds me of Jesus. Not the typical light-skinned, bearded Messiah, but browned by the Piura sun. With a crown of thorns and a cross.
It's said that he heals. That he brings blessings on to those who ask for it and watches over those who need guidance. Which is why, I suppose, so many people make this journey. In the merciless sun in the land of eternal summer.
I wonder what their reasons are. To leave their homes, their work, school, their families. To travel for weeks to arrive at the foot of this saint's church. What could they be seeking? Thinking? Praying?
But I only have a second to ponder the possibilities. The van I'm in speeds forward, leaving nothing but dust behind to shroud their pilgrimage.
CHEVERE-Take 2
Calm down, Screaming Masses! The Community Health Volunteer Educational Reader (CHEVERE) will be hot off the press and out on stands for readers again soon.
Of course by "hot of the press," I mean in pdf form and by "on stands" I mean in the e-mail boxes of all Peace Corps Peru Community Health volunteers.
This next issue features photo essays and focuses on capturing moments throughout our Peace Corps service. Volunteers submitted photos with short descriptions, ranging in topics from building a baño to organizing a marathon. Some focused their attention on relationships within their host family, others with their community or department, but all of them reflect some commonalities that we as health volunteers in Peru have in our own anthology of anecdotes.
To give you a peek at what's in store, here are some sample* pages/spreads from this issue:
If you are outside the Peace Corps Peru Health circuit and would like a copy of this issue of CHEVERE, send me a quick note of request via e-mail at robyn.correll@gmail.com.
*Note: these spreads are my own rough drafts and have not yet been approved by Peace Corps Peru.
Of course by "hot of the press," I mean in pdf form and by "on stands" I mean in the e-mail boxes of all Peace Corps Peru Community Health volunteers.
This next issue features photo essays and focuses on capturing moments throughout our Peace Corps service. Volunteers submitted photos with short descriptions, ranging in topics from building a baño to organizing a marathon. Some focused their attention on relationships within their host family, others with their community or department, but all of them reflect some commonalities that we as health volunteers in Peru have in our own anthology of anecdotes.
To give you a peek at what's in store, here are some sample* pages/spreads from this issue:
If you are outside the Peace Corps Peru Health circuit and would like a copy of this issue of CHEVERE, send me a quick note of request via e-mail at robyn.correll@gmail.com.
*Note: these spreads are my own rough drafts and have not yet been approved by Peace Corps Peru.
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