The view from my soapbox.

Sorry for the delay (and no promises on the next installment!) – I haven’t felt much like writing…. for the past 6 months (if we’re not counting the haiku).  This is not a fuzzy post about how great Peace Corps is, nor is it a rant against Peace Corps.  But it is a dissatisfaction with the land I represent in Colombia.

Additional apologies if certain words don’t mesh well.  As my Spanish has improved it seems my English has begun to falter.

Disclaimer: My intention in writing this is in no way an attempt to diminish the experiences of women.

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#yesallwomen

Though I may be a bit out of the loop on US current events and cultural trends, a few things have still managed to find their way into my awareness.  Hashtags being one such thing.  Even though I haven’t logged into my twitter account in over a year, hashtags are still used on Facebook (no idea why…) by many friends and #yesallwomen among others have rolled through my newsfeed from time to time in the past months.

In a political philosophy course in college, I wrote a final about… ultimately a jumble of things.  Mostly because it was still such a fresh idea in my head and I was getting lost in all of the related issues.  It’s still a half-assed idea in my mind.  But the main source of my internal conflict surrounded the issue of charitable giving and short-term aid.  I’ve always been upset that people needed a reason to help others less fortunate and furthermore, that so many seem only to do things because it’s the easy road to writing it off.  Celebrities take a ‘trip’ to Africa and come back to their excessive lifestyles with gusto.  The average man or woman writes a check.  Or, increasingly, writes a tweets or posts a new status.  Ta-da!  Look how much I care!  Look how much hard work we’ve done in the name of justice and equality!

I didn’t bother to try and count the number of tweets with the hashtag #yesallwomen.  #sitodaslasmujeres has a whopping thirteen tweets.  You read that correctly! Thirteen – the big 1-3!

So maybe not all women then.  #نعم جميع النساء had one tweet and#ouitouteslesfemmes had none.  A small sampling of women.

When I come home I have two choices of where to get off my bus.  Option 1 is a moderately well-lit, two block stretch which passes two tiendas, where 9/10 times men are passing the time with cervezas.  Option 2 is just around the corner and is a poorly-lit, one block stretch that is quite desolate after dark.  During the day, I feel only the mildest of discomforts taking either option.  In the dark (after 6pm), my though processes change.

I wore a dress out to watch a movie with a couple of friends this evening.  As my bus started to approach my neighborhood, I started to think about these options.  I knew there would be comments if I got off at the tienda.  I knew there would be the hissing, the “hermosa”s, “mi reina”s, and possibly the types of phrases that make me wish my Spanish wasn’t improving.  Being verbally harassed every time I leave my home is part of life.  Which made me realize that I always choose Option 1 after dark is because Option 2 contains the potential of a much more physical harassment.

This is part of life here, unfortunately.  It really makes no difference if you’re black or white or trigueña.  If you’re a member of the ‘fairer’ sex, aren’t visibly elderly, and have hit puberty, chances are, you’ve been piropo-ed (hit on/cat called) going about your daily business.

I get it.  You’re all trying to make a difference from your hand-held device of choice.  You think some smart comment with a #yesallwomen is real work.  Unfortunately, it’s not and the only thing you’ve actually managed is to exempt yourself from actually having to do anything substantial.  To the women and men who make issues of inequality and injustice their life’s work, please, continue to tweet away.  You’ve earned it.  Though chances are you already know the real work is a bit more than 140 characters.

The rest of you, open your eyes and look around.  You think you’re changing the world – by starting a movement that doesn’t extend beyond your own borders.  My girls have never heard of #yesallwomen and they never will.  The majority of whom are encompassed in ‘all women’ will never know about your ‘movement’ to empower them because all you’ve done is fed into a cycle of compassion fatigue and removed yourself from feeling any responsibility to do something to actually improve the situation from your position of power (oh yeah, rest assured you have oodles of privilege over the women I interact with, hope my saying that doesn’t set your teeth on edge!).

And sadly, because you’ve removed yourself from having to take any further action, you will likely never have even the remotest idea of what women actually go through in the real world.

I hope (as my Spanish improves) to have a girls group in my school to discuss these issues of self-esteem – to empower them beyond finding their value in the number of piropos received in a day.  It’s not much, but when I think of women’s empowerment, changing the world for a better place… well, change requires action, not words.

 

From Colombia with Love

Haiku.

Babies driving Mercs.

Teens decked out in Michael Kors.

So this is Peace Corps?

Perspective.

If there’s one thing I seem to constantly need to remind myself of in life, it is of perspective.

Last week I was up just after dawn and out until late afternoon, helping teaching swimming lessons in La Boquilla (a beach-locale volunteer site), in the ocean.  Friday I accompanied my future teachers to the white sand beaches of Playa Blanca, which ended up being a truly all-day affair.  And Saturday Blanca, Sarah, and I visited Paul and Mike D on the island site, Caño del Oro.  I was so ready for Sunday and the chance to have nothing to do.

And then the nothing to do didn’t end.  And Christmas was suddenly almost here.  And everyone seemed busy with their own lives.  And I was able to get away without washing my hair almost the whole week because I had nothing to leave the house for.  Basically I was bored and feeling pitiful and lonely during my favorite holiday, which I was hoping to let pass with little pomp or circumstance.

Team Tiburones (Sharks)!

Playa Blanca

Blanca, Paul, and Sarah, at the island.

Exploring the old buildings/former leper colony.

Catching alternate transportation home.

And then I was reminded that life is life.  It’s easy to get wrapped up in our own problems and forget the world outside – to forget that both the people we love most and the strangers in the street are dealing with the ups and downs as well.  Our stresses, failures, heartaches, joys, they might look different, but the feelings are the same.

I finally got out of the house today.  Blanca and I went to a gift-giving/information session put on by the organization Amigos Positivos and the Cruz Roja.  I learned more about the organization, which works to inform the population on safe sex practices, creating safe spaces for the LGBT community, and healthy choices for people living with HIV/AIDS, and education in general.  So I spent my morning with a group of mothers and their children, all HIV+.

A reminder on perspective.

Children receiving gifts from Amigos Positivos.

And then, while we were waiting to meet up with other volunteers in the Centro to get lunch, I saw a man almost jump from the roof of a building.  Luckily the fire department/police tackled him down and drug him off the roof.

A double dose of perspective.  In the face of children who will live their lives with the stigma of HIV/AIDS and a person who, for whatever reason, was ready to end their own life, I really haven’t much to cry about.

Because I seem to have an over-abundance of love in my life (even when I hit the bumps in the road and everything makes me miserable), I bought a string of lights and turned on the Christmas music.  A forced change of perspective.

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas from Colombia –

Sarah

24. Veinticuatro.

We are officially within the two year marker.  720 days – give or take – of sweltering heat, sticking to bus seats, and near 24/7 Español.  And fresh fruit with every meal, beautiful vistas, and the ocean just one sweaty, $.75 bus ride away.

Since arriving in Cartagena, I’ve spent every morning at my school, sometimes helping out in the classroom, though mostly just hanging out with students and answering the same questions about One Direction and the meaning of my tattoos over and over again. And being drown in hugs, cheek kisses, being led around with a little girl on each hand. It’s hard to have a problem with that.

It was requested that I better explain what my job here will be, and I realized I haven’t actually touched on that aspect (the most important one) of my time here in Colombia at all.

After a few conversations at my school, I became aware that the current English teacher will not be working at Maria Auxiliadora (or Mauxi, as I’ve come to learn) next year, the first surprise of my service.  Not entirely terrible, as I’ll be working with someone who will also be new.  Then it was explained that there is no English teacher in primary school (Pre-Escolar –  6th grade), however this is the area that they most want program development.  Throw in the fact that I was currently expected to be at school every day from 7am-1pm, and I hadn’t actually started work nor have I done my observation period, and I was a little worried about the expectations I was walking into.

I sat down with my rectora (principal), Hermana Beatriz, and we talked through some of my concerns (namely, the fear that they might expect me to be the primary English teacher).  The worst possible outcome of my time here would be to leave and have everything I worked towards, fall apart.  To have left everything I loved to try and accomplish something sustainable and then see it deteriorate upon my departure would, for me, be a complete failure.  We agreed that I was only here to support the English teacher in secondary and I wouldn’t assist in any classes without previously having lesson planned with my counterpart.

We also came up with a bit of a game plan for a primary program – in general, I’ll be working with all of the primary teachers on developing their English skills and then helping to create lessons and activities to supplement whatever students are currently learning.  So the English they learn will be both basic as well as cover a variety of subjects (Math=shapes, etc; Science=environmental vocab, projects in English, etc).  I’m really excited to work on this model as I can see it being more relatable and at the end of the day, fun.

But for now, my host mom is hanging up decorations for Navidad, school will end for the year next week, and I foresee many siestas and lazy days, taking in the heat, the city, and the beach until the 2014 school year starts in February (during which time I will begin observing classes for several weeks).

Final day of school for 11th grade before graduation!

They had a band come to perform (way cooler than my high school ever did…). The Colombian mullet is alive and well.

Proving to Marie that my nail polishes aren’t ALL red.

Sister-bonding time. Granted she’s much more talented with nail polish than I am. It’s almost like we’re really related…

As always,

From Colombia, with Love.

Cartagena, gracias a dios.

Well friends, I am officially living in lovely Cartagena.  It is a truly beautiful and vibrant city – until you travel south of the Walled City.  I’ve always been a believer in finding beauty in unconventional places, but it certainly a bit rougher once you get out of the tourist hubs.  I completely understand why every told me there are two Cartagenas: one for tourists and ex-pats, the other is real life.

Taking a ride through the Walled City with Magnolia.

The view of the coast and Boca Grande from the Wall.

A shot of the Centro.

Barrio Getsemaní, just outside the Walled City, but same lovely architecture.

I’m living next door to my school (literally, my bedroom window overlooks the courtyard. I leave for the day to take a siesta and am lulled to sleep by the sound of screeching/giggling girls playing) with a family of four: My host parents Jesus and Alba, and my host siblings, Jesus (21, and in university) and Marie Alejandra (16, just about to graduate from high school).

My new bed.

My new, messy closet.

The kitchen.

Living room.

I feel so lucky to be in this arrangement.  The whole family is incredibly welcoming and laid-back, I heard a never-ending stream of “tranquilo, tranquilo”s my first few days, when I would ask how they liked things done, etc.  They’ve gone out of their way to accommodate me and to ensure I’ve got a handle of the area and how to get to major spot and to make sure I’m involved in activities (my host brother just invited me to start playing volleyball with a group of people in the evenings).

I’ve had quite a few good conversations in Spanish which has made me feel 100x more confident in my ability to learn the language – it’s slow coming and there are still times when I kind of throw my hands up and say ‘lo siento, no entiendo’, but they’re becoming fewer and farther between – it’s this constant immersion thing.

And to top it all off, my friend Magnolia, met through my family in Barranquilla, and I spent the last two afternoons bumming around the Centro, eating fresh fruit and arepas (and in my case, too many desserts…) and even went to an art exhibit/presentation on sound as a means of narration (though I was too tired to even try and keep up with the panel).

In general, I think Cartagena suits me well and I’m really excited to start exploring more, get to ‘know’ the beach one of these days, and keep plugging away at the Spanish. And the fact that I get to eat ANYTHING I WANT makes me unspeakably happy.

Oh, and we officially became volunteers.

Swearing-In Ceremony

From Cartagena with Love,

Sarah

Bonus, some adorable niñas from school. I had to open her pony malta while they questioned me about who knows what. I think there was a birthday in their class today, thus the princess tiaras.