As I sit here writing this blog post it’s hard for me to get my head around the fact that 8 months ago I arrived with my two suitcases and laptop bag – wide-eyed and full of expectation - ready to immerse myself in this year of service and learning in Mexico.
It all began as an adventure into the entirely unknown and the accompanying feelings were fresh and new. I had a constant bundle of nerves and excitement vibrating all around me; and there were all sorts of wonderings and questions: who would be my new friends? who I would confide in? when would I begin to trust and share parts of this new reality? And…and? Fast forward to April. April! I can’t help but look back on how these past months have taught me so much about who I am (probably much more so than who others are). Somedays it’s just plain hard to put into words the ways I have been shaped and formed by the people near to me and the places I’ve been. It leaves me feeling grounded in some ways, while in others I’m left not knowing what to think, or wonder if my values seem as clear as I thought they were. At this point, I’ve found a certain comfort with that reality. Although “comfortable” would not have been the word I used a month and a half ago when, once again, I found myself holding on to two suitcases and a laptop bag – sensing the all-too-familiar feeling of unknown swell within me. Nervous, unsettled, but determined and trusting that it will all turn out alright. Enter my homestay mom, Mary Paz. Paz, as most people call her (Paz means Peace in Spanish), is this bright, energetic and full of life woman who adores her family and even calls me her “hija/daughter.” She’s fun to go on walks with and talk together when I get back from work either at her sewing shop or at home. As a seamstress, Paz had been able to travel to Chiapas and Guatemala to lead sewing workshops for women who are interested in income generation (setting up their own shops in their own communities + starting small businesses and co-ops). Paz’s stories of Chiapas, which is the furthest south and one of the poorest states in Mexico, are striking. While Paz was there, she was invited to enter into Zapatista communities and work within churches to organize women and teach them basic-to-advanced sewing skills. [To learn more about the Zapatistas, or Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional, EZLN), click on this link.] Paz says that she and the other volunteers would sleep on the floor or on tables for weeks at a time. It was a challenging experience but a huge opportunity to work closely with the rural poor. It’s so clear that she deeply cares for the people she met there, and she’s eager to share the things she learned along the way. Now to the house we live in... Currently we’re in the final stages of dust, debris, and non-stop construction racket! When I moved in 7 weeks ago the construction team promised us that they would finish the inside of the house in 2 weeks. Then it would be 2 more weeks to work on the backyard. Now, mid-April, they assure us that there’s only 3 weeks to go! It’s kind of hard not to feel frustrated by all that’s going on but at this point there’s really no alternative than to roll with the punches. I guess once you get used to 7 weeks of construction, what’s 10? It was a big deal to see things moved into the house a few weeks ago because when I got here my room was complete but there wasn’t even a fridge or a stove. So in those first few weeks, Paz and I would go for walks at night, grab some dinner at family-run neighborhood restaurants (basically a few tables and chairs in front of the house) and start to get to know each other over warm quesadillas and spicy salsas. It's a relief to look around today and see that things are finally coming together. For one, we can cook and store food! Plus, last week, furniture was moved in to the house - except we’re not exactly settled in because the couch, love seat and chairs are still all covered in plastic and tipped over sideways along the edge of the living room! This time of waiting for construction to end is teaching me a lot about the value of patience. That’s been pretty obvious. Never before have I heard the words repeated so often: “Poco a poco/Little by little” and “Ya/Done” (or in this case, “almost over”). I feel my attitude shifting somewhat from finding ways to “get through” the dust and noise to instead embrace my homestay mom Paz’s openness to taking things day-by-day and try to make the best of whatever moment or stage of construction that we’re in. We’ll feel settled in eventually. And now is one of those times where I really need to practice patience, to allow my capacity for being patient increase. Practice makes patience, I tell myself, in order for the big picture to come into focus. This is what change requires.
1 Comment
There was a moment a few weeks ago that brought a smile to my face. From where I was standing at the back of the room, I caught myself smiling in one of those huge, cheek-aching grins as I scanned the room and saw 17 glowing faces staring back at me - all rosy as the blood rushed to their heads in the Down Dog yoga position. Welcome to my new work site, G.A.D.I., a day center for children and adolescents with Down’s syndrome. G.A.D.I. stands for Grupo Activo Down Independiente, which literally translates to: Group-Active-Down’s-Independent.  It’s a small center with a lot of heart, consisting of teachers, parents, volunteers, and special students. Since children with special needs often face educational and social limitations in Mexican public schools, G.A.D.I. is a safe space to make friends, gain a basic education, and develop independent life skills. What I like about the environment here is the mutuality in participation by staff, parents and students. Also, there's no cut-off age when students are asked to leave; in fact, the oldest student is 54 years-old! Each day begins with an activity like yoga, tae-kwon-doe, or dance. Then the students split into 3 classrooms until lunch. One group is working on writing sentences, reading, basic math, etc., meanwhile another practices shapes, numbers, days of the week. The third classroom is used for speech therapies. At 11:30 we all eat together at one big table. After recess, depending on the day, there is painting, gardening, an after-school recycling program, baking in the on-site bakery - even bowling!  It’s certainly no free-for-all but there’s a lot of high-energy pulsing around all day every day. In my first two weeks there’s been an escape-artist that we had to chase down the street - twice; the separating of a pair of non-stop ‘cha-cha’ dancers in the middle of class; and the taking away of a whole bunch of distracting and noisy Spiderman and Batman games. Oh, I've also confiscated a bottle of tequila after a student snuck it into the center and started serving his friends at lunch time.
I’ve also received countless gooey kisses on the cheek; helped tie shoe-laces after little shoes stick out in front of me with a simultaneous question/demand “Por favor?!/Please?!”; plus big, wide open arms that lock around me at the end of the day. As I struggle to find my role and figure out how I can be best used, what strikes me the most is that each day is incredible mix of routine and unexpected situations. Lately I’ve put a lot of attention to getting to know the students better, to sit by them at lunch and try to be as present as possible. Everyday with the students at G.A.D.I. is a reminder that I’m really here to be – not do. Maybe that’s what bubbled up inside of me as I stretched into a yoga position that Wednesday morning - and burst into a spontaneous smile. | AuthorI'm a 2009-2010 ELCA YAGM in Mexico, spending time in mission, service, and living in community. ArchivesJuly 2010 Categories |
RSS Feed