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.
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| 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.
