Build It Better

There's a song I've recently come to really enjoy called Build It Better by an artist named Aron Wright. The central theme is the deep notion of starting over, of going back to the beginning, of trying again - especially in the wake of a sorrowful season of loss. The lyrics reference what one would assume to be the remnants of a building following a flood, as the narrator claims, "You can still see where the water was, in a line at the top of the chimney bricks."  The lyrics go on to describe, with certain and positive verbiage, that "you always build it better the second time around."

I've tried to be careful to not broadcast too much of the story in its entirety, but I feel comfortable enough to mention now, some three weeks later, that there've been some unfortunate events that took place in my old Peace Corps community related to my safety and security. As a result, I was working with leadership at Peace Corps Costa Rica to realize a site change. Since those events back in SIAC, I can tell you with unequivocal confidence that I am and have been in great hands.  The Peace Corps Costa Rica office staff has done a truly incredible job attending to my specific needs in light of what took place. From the top to the bottom, I've felt as supported as ever - if not even more this time around -  by this amazing group of people.

And that's not even mentioning my fellow volunteers! During the nearly-four weeks in which I'd been awaiting final confirmation for the official move, I had the delight of working with a number of fellow PCVs here in Costa Rica. For example, just a week and a half ago, I had the opportunity to head back up north, an hour from my old site, and help with an employability workshop that one of my fellow volunteers had previously organized. I got to give a class about interviewing dos and don'ts, and then we were able to do a handful of mock interviews to help the students become more comfortable with typical questions that come up in a professional interview.

For me, it was a very needed breath of fresh air. Being there in that classroom, in front of those students, seeing them each pay attention with real and overt effort, and feeling the passion for a legitimate job and means of self-support floating in the air... it was just what I needed at that point in my Peace Corps journey.

In the in-between, as I was still awaiting the final confirmation and the green light to move to the new site, I was asked to take on a role with a few other groups. It only served to open my eyes even more to how vast the reach of this organization is in this beautiful country. Never one to sit on my butt for too long, I'm grateful to have had these opportunities. At the same time, I was also very eager to get to my new site.

My old site (the star) was a six hour ride to San José.
El Llano (the pin) is literally 45 minutes from downtown.

Speaking of my new site, it has been made official. I arrived yesterday to my new host family's house in the semi-urban community of El Llano, which is in San Miguel de Desamparados. I'm only a day into my experience here, but I can tell you that it seems to be a very, VERY good fit. Considering that in my old site I had witnessed the ups and downs of a number of different projects, I'm cautiously optimistic about how a few of these former projects wiggle their way into my work in El Llano.

For example, in SIAC, we'd worked to develop an Environmental Committee that had slowly begun to lose momentum due to some of the members having had children. I'd also worked with a community member to begin giving a community computer class/economic registry project which had been put on hold due to a change in venue. Finally, I'd organized a second round of a women's entrepreneurship course that was just getting started with the help of a former course graduate as a co-teacher when the events that caused my departure took place. Imagine my contentment when, as I read through the information packet about El Llano, I noticed a mention of local environmental awareness, a computer class based in the local technical high school, and a strong desire for developing entrepreneurship among women in the community.

The housing situation was quite a story in and of itself. Having heard that the only real housing option had since changed her mind and now was not open to having a volunteer, we set out to find a few other options. We heard of a couple small homes and went to check them out earlier this week. Not quite desperate but most definitely ready to get started, I was willing to move into a less-than-awesome place. My program manager don Luis and I stopped by the first option, looked around, took some pictures and notes, and agreed that it would do. After leaving that house, we ended up in the living room of the former host family option, where doña Sonia and her family live. She invited us to coffee, and we sat and shared small talk. Eventually, doña Sonia took a deep breath and said, "Well, the thing is I don't know if he (me) would be happy here, because it's only the women. But I tell you what. I'll talk to my daughters and we'll see what they have to say." I left that house honestly not expecting anything but a delayed no from her.

The next day I went back down to the community with Aimee, my regional leader, to do an official house check on the first option and, hopefully, get a chance to see the second one which we were unable to see the day before. We made our way around the back streets and eventually arrived to the second option, only to find that it was almost certainly going to be denied, due to its proximity to a river and being next to a hillside that was susceptible to a landslide. And so, we stopped in to the local school to have a quick bite to eat before we headed back to San José. I had essentially begun to mentally accept the fact that I was going to have to move into the only real option I had. It wouldn't be the end of the world, and I was certain I could make it work.

It was at that very moment I got a phone call from an unknown number. "Hello?" I answered. "Hello, Dako, how are you?" the voice on the other end of the call said. "Uhhh.. I'm well, but... sorry, who is this?" I inquired. "This is your new mom, my son," she said. I instantly realized it was doña Sonia. She asked us to come by the house for a cup of coffee, so we scarfed down the rest of our empanadas and bolted. Upon arriving, we were greeted by a house full of family, and we sat down to some little snacks and a warm cup of coffee. After a little more small talk, doña Sonia turned to me and said, "Here's the deal. We want to offer you a place to live." I couldn't believe it. Here was this woman who had all but told us that her home wasn't an option, and yet she was inviting me to live with her and her family.

It ends up working out perfectly, too. She has a small house on the same property (behind a big, metal gate too) in which another woman is currently living, but she's on her way out around the end of the month. At that point, I'll be able to slide into that spot and have my own place for the remaining seven months or so until the end of my service.

And so, in less than a month, I've gone from some pretty difficult circumstances to an overwhelmingly positive situation. I'm still wholly undecided as to what's next after May of 2018, but I will say I'm very thankful for the way the Peace Corps staff and my fellow volunteers have helped me get through this little hiccup. I'm excited to see what's next.

Here's to building it better the second time around.

Speak American

This morning I watched a video of an older lady in line at a mall in Louisville, Kentucky, completely berating a pair of Latina women for no reason. [The video claims that one of the women stepped in front of her to join her friend in line; hardly a felony] The older woman, in one of the worst showings of racism and bigotry that I've seen on social media, unleashed a barrage of slurs and horrendous claims, telling the women to "Go back from where the f*ck you come from," and "You're probably on welfare. We probably paid for all that stuff." When one of the Latina women tried to tell her - in English - "I say sorry," the older woman replied, "It's OK. Speak English. You're in America."

This raises something that I can't help but share today. As you know, I'm currently living in a foreign country. In this country, I am afforded certain privileges and rights, given my particular job with a U.S. government organization. When I see things like this video, I can't help but ponder what it must be like to be a minority living in the United States these days. My goodness, the contrast that must exist. Politics aside, there seems to be an ever-growing fear of the unknown when it comes to foreigners, and it's heartbreaking. 

I just checked the United State of America's Wikipedia page, and - wouldn't you know it - under the section entitled Official Language, it says None at a federal level. Interesting. So, regardless of the state in which you find yourself, there is no official language of the good ol' U.S. of A. And yet, what is the long-running joke? "You're in America! Speak American!" 

I'm aware that the older woman didn't say "Speak American" in the video, but she did make an error in her explanation. Telling the women they're "in America" is about as vague as it gets. The funny thing here is that unless these women are from Spain or Portugal, they are undoubtedly from America. Most of you will understand this already, but think of what it means when you say America: both continents of North and South America qualify. So a person from Ushuaia, Argentina, near the southern tip of the continent, has just as much right to claim themselves as an American as someone born in the urban jungle of New York, New York, or the plains of rural Nebraska.

Me and my (Central) American family

Back to the video. Something strikes a chord in me about the way this older woman felt so comfortable acting like that in front of complete strangers. She had no shame whatsoever casting loud and biting judgment on these otherwise innocent women. My heart goes out to the minority in the United States today. I'm not speaking about the current political leadership nor its landscape. I'm talking about the average small town where someone of a different race is trying to make ends meet but is fighting an ever-steepening uphill battle against seemingly impossible odds.

I was born into a middle-class, white, USAmerican family. In other words, I hit the damn jackpot. That said, living in a different country has exposed me to what it is to be that different person. To be looked at and, quite possibly, judged. But even so, because of my particular genetic makeup, I end up getting treated - on average - so much better than other minorities in other countries, including the good ol' U. S. of A.

So what's the solution? Well, I'd say that in order to find the solution, we need to better understand the problem. What is it that divides us? As I mentioned before, I believe it's a basic fear of the unknown. I imagine it unfolding like this:

The line at the supermarket is long. The Latina mother of three is trying to quiet her youngest child's cries while she waits her turn to purchase diapers, groceries, and other basics for her family. As she shuffles closer to the cash register, she glances over her shoulder and sees a tall, middle-aged man wearing a red hat looking - literally and figuratively - down on her. The toddler won't stop crying, and the man mutters something under his breath about a wall being built. The high school boys between the Latina mother and the man overhear the comment and start to giggle among themselves. The mother, bilingual and completely aware of what the man said, decides to play dumb and act as if she didn't understand what the comment was about. She offers an obviously fake smile and turns back to face the cash register. The older man feels accomplished, as if he's fulfilled his duty as an American, the young boys got a little laugh in, and the Latina woman and her family feel a little less welcome. And the cycle continues. Little do the man or the youngsters know, that mother of three works from home - legally - on her college degree while her husband works at the local factory - legally - assembling the very vehicles that the man and the high schoolers will get into once they've finished their business here.

Do you see the disconnect? Do you see the problem? It's a massive breakdown in communication. It's one of the saddest examples of misunderstanding I can imagine, and it really does break my heart. So many ridiculous assumptions made. So many needless, hurtful comments hurled at minorities for nothing more than being different, for looking different, for sounding different. 

I know that the majority of people who would read this may not be Spanish speakers, but do you know how beautiful the Spanish language really is? You don't have to be fluent to hear the beauty in the rhythm of it. To hear the accent as it dances from syllable to syllable. I've been completely enamored with it since I began re-learning it back in February of last year. And so it amazes me that some people would lose their mind when they're asked to press a button on their cell phone to select English, meanwhile sweating each second they have to endure hearing a Spanish sentence. 

I honestly hope and pray that we as USAmericans can find a way to be more welcoming and loving to our fellow man and woman, no matter how different he or she may look or sound. If I can help in that, I want to. I've had interesting conversations recently about what will come following the end of my service, and it's become clear that there's a corner of passion in me that wants to see this injustice come to a swift end. We'll see what happens.

I'm proud to be an American, and I know so many others who'd say the same thing - in a completely different language.

Siempre Esperando

< sigh >

You were probably just as exhausted from 2016 as I was around 11:30pm on December 31st. Amid all the horrific headlines, ridiculous memes, and news of celebrity deaths, it was a pretty tough year for a lot of people. I count myself among those affected by the throes of the previous 12 months.

Among many things, I...

• Moved to Costa Rica (in case you missed that)
• Endured 3 months of PCCR training
• Met some of the most amazing people in this world
• Ate cow tongue
• Ate cow tail
• Went to my first international soccer game
• Fell in and out of love
• Became a cat person (RIP sweet Molly)
• Survived my first earthquake
• Endured Costa Rica's first hurricane in over 100 years
• Rang in the 2017 with some of my Tico 31 fam

Puerto Viejo w/Dan, Tory, & Joe - 3 of the best folks I know.

One of the many, many other things that took place over 2016 was an uptick in my Spanish-speaking abilities. Combined with 3 months of language lessons during training, immersion in my site has gone a very long way in helping me sharpen my español. There are so many things I've learned about this beautiful language that I never, ever knew before coming here, and that's what I want to write about here. 

Not pictured: +/- 2,500 people and every star
known to mankind showing up just in time
for midnight on New Year's Eve.

As I stood on the beach in Puerto Viejo to ring in the new year among so many other anxious souls, I found my thoughts drifting to one simple Spanish phrase: Siempre Esperando. I've only now begun to fully understand the impact of it. See, I thought for the longest time that the word siempre only ever translated to "always." As it turns out, it can also be used to mean "still" - as in an ongoing action. I also thought that the verb esperar - especially in its progressive form esperando - always translated to "to wait/waiting" or "to wait for/waiting for," but I've learned that it can also mean "to hope/hoping." 

So, feeling the sand between my toes and the cool water from the Caribbean flow over and around my feet, I stared up at the stars - nostalgic as ever - and considered the enormous difference between both compound phrases made by those two words.

Siempre esperando... 

That night, looking back on 2016, I could have easily classified myself as still waiting. With everything that transpired over the last 12 months, I could have thrown myself into that category and said that I was still waiting for some specific things / outcomes / results / answers from last year - in other words, still waiting for some shadow of what I thought might've been. Perhaps it was a project that didn't unfold the way I expected. Or maybe it was a friendship or a relationship that turned out a little differently from how I'd planned. There were more than a few things that simply didn't go the way I'd foreseen, so one could make the argument that on that beach that night I was still waiting for something - anything - to give meaning or purpose to any number of the wild events of 2016. 

Then again, I considered, maybe I can take that small but crucial step that we're so wont to do and yet often fail in our attempts to accomplish: to look ahead. And so the other side of the concept behind siempre esperando could be always hoping, That is to say that, in spite of all the perceived negativity from last year's 366 days of ebb and flow (yes, it was a leap year), maybe I can say that I'll always hope for what is to come.

What an incredible difference between the two potential translations. 

[Just to clarify, I believe it's 100% okay to wait for some things. I feel most folks would agree that it all depends on what or who you're still waiting for, but there's nothing wrong with holding out for something good. That said, in some cases it's wise to simply let go and move forward - always hoping for something better.]

Wherever you find yourself as you embark on this new year, know that you're right where you're supposed to be. Whether you find yourself looking over your shoulder still waiting for something, or you've got your eyes on the horizon always hoping for what is yet to come, breathe easy knowing that everything's going to work out just fine.

 ... but if it doesn't, you can always come sit with me on my porch here in San Isidro. You and I will sip good coffee together as we wait until it does.

Pura Vida, my friends.