Monday, May 7th, 2007
Our girls sure are troopers. Getting them up relatively early in the morning…cold, rotating showers…trying to find their own personal space…all that fun and excitement. Gregan and I had the chance to get to know the girls better through learning about and understanding the goals they have for themselves over the summer. I’m really excited to help encourage the realization of these goals for the girls. So often goals are a burden that we “have” to carry. I’m really excited to see what can be done to encourage the girls to basically make the most of their time and experiences that they’re going to have here…and how they can feel that they are becoming more of the individual they want to be. It helped me understand more about the motives of the girls and why they’re here. It helped me get to know them better in general.
We got everyone out the door relatively easily and mostly on time. A brief walk down the hill with a cacophony of whistles and honks and kissy noises following my brood of 10 new girls…but 12 gringos in all.
So, the whole journal idea isn’t working so well. I obviously haven’t been keeping up with it seeing that it’s a month later. Let’s try this a new way.
On Saturday I had the opportunity to do more laundry by hand. Well, let’s start from the beginning. We move into the house that has, much to my joy, a washing machine…and then much to my sadness, one that doesn’t work…but then, much to my joy, I find that there’s only a broken belt underneath the washing machine and that, quite possibly, was an easily fixable problem. So, a few days later, and a friend making a few different runs to a few different repair places (the first time we didn’t have the make/model of the washing machine, the second time they gave us the wrong belt size, and the third time was the charm right?) we had a washing machine that was working much to my joy. After two and a half loads among everyone in the house, I smelled hot rubber and found, much to my sadness that the belt had broken again, meaning that there was probably something wrong with the washing machine that makes the belt break. SO, it’s back to washing clothing by hand…after not doing it for a long time because I was hoping against hope that maybe that washing machine WOULD one day decide to work. So…on Saturday, after procrastinating it for way too long, I decide it’s the perfect time to do some laundry because there were only 4 of us in the house and consequently more clothesline space. Lovely El Salvador and the fact that clothesline space under a covered space is a hot commodity. There’s nothing worse than spending a LOT of time washing clothes and going out to the line a few days later to check and see if they’re dry (yes, it does take a few days here because of the humidity) and thinking that they’re ALMOST dry but that if you take them off the line that morning then they’re going to be just damp enough to sour after you fold them and put them in the closet. So, you think to yourself, I’m just going to leave them up while I’m working today and will come home and put them all away…then you’re at a project and you hear the distant sound of thunder and know that all your work has suddenly been set at naught. The clothes will not only be totally wet again, but they will be wet with rain water which, consequently, make them dirty and smelly. SO, then you have the choice to wear either smelly clothes or wash them all over again…Yeah, that’s not a fun choice to make. (I did bring Febreeze down for that specific reason though…) Yes, clothesline in a covered area is definitely coveted. You know you’re really getting into your laundry when the clothes you’re wearing while washing the dirty clothes are just as wet as the clothes hanging on the line. Let’s explain the clothes washing experience. First of all you sit there and regret letting it go as long as you did and thinking that you shouldn’t use a grocery bag as a laundry bag because it’s too big. Then you go out and fill up part of the pila with water. For those of you that don’t know, a pila is a big concrete box that has a drain in the bottom and a faucet at top. It’s a little higher than waist high and the size varies, but ours is about the size of a refrigerator laying down on its side. Then, over the top and off to the side of the pila there is a “shelf” of sorts that is about 3 inches deep and has it’s own drainage system. So, the idea is that you have this big holding container of water and then you have this little area that you can do your work (laundry, dishes, or whatever) and you just grab little bowl fulls of water from the big storage area and splash it up on the work area. You use a little water and get the clothes wet, you use detergent that is in a round can shape and roll it over the top of the clothing, you scrub and get some friction worked up and some foam and bubbles…and after about 10 items of clothing you’re finding that the tops of your knuckles are rubbed pretty raw and you’re finding new creative ways to hold your clothing to create the friction but spare your knuckles a little more. Then you spread out the clothing, you splash more water on it, squeeze and ring it out, more water, more squeezing and ringing to try to get out more soap…and you keep doing this until either the water comes out pretty clear or you get so tired of the stinkin soap bubbles that you just figure “soap is clean right? That means even if the clothes have soap in them, they’re clean…right?” Just if you’re wondering, no, that’s not right…BUT, in El Salvador, it works…it flies. So, your forearms are tired (they actually ache the next day, now when’s the last time you got sore from doing laundry? It’s been a while for me) your shoulders are tired and you try to find space that is covered that you can hang your clothing on. It’s quite the interesting experience. There are two things that you dread though…dropping wet laundry on the tiled ground. The tiled ground is NEVER clean…and it seems that the white shirts are usually the clothes that just happen to fall…or if you haven’t tied a secure knot and before you know the whole line has gone down. There is nothing quite as heavy as a clothesline full of wet clothing when you HAVE to keep it up to try to keep the clothes off the dirty ground as much as possible. I have a good friend that was over on Saturday who was teasing me about my clothes washing skills. I told him that he should show me how it’s done. He was very specific about when to turn it inside out or rightside out….and how much soap you should use and how much water etc. I think I’ll stick with my method…it’s a little bit de lost Estados Unidos and a little bit de El Salvador and it works for me and I get clean smelling clothing. I hope it really sis clean, but at least it smells clean…which is something I’m a fan of. So, that is the process of doing laundry here.
So, I’ve got a great embarrassing moment to share now. Well, I’ve got two. First of all, let’s create the setting. We’re at a home for boys. We’re working with a group of boys that are around the ages of 14 or so…and I’ve got a newspaper and a mind blank. I’m talking about the “newspaper”…or so I think. The word is periodico right? Well, for some reason I keep saying periodo…which is NOT newspaper. I’ll give you all a chance to guess what it really means…and can I tell you, the boys thought it was the funniest thing on the face of the earth. Boy, I felt dumb after I finally clued in as to why they were all laughing at me each time I talked about the “newspaper”.
Embarrassing moment number two…flip flops, smooth surfaces and rain do NOT mix. Let’s paint another picture. There’s a road called the Pan American Highway. It runs through almost all the countries of Central America, including El Salvador. It’s a very busy road, especially at the stop outside of La Ceiba because it’s the edge of the city and a good place to change bus routes. Because it’s so busy they’ve built these “pasarelas” or bridges that span the road and are made out of metal and have chain link fencing on the sides of it. Enter the rain and Rachel walking across it. She is “smart” enough to know that she’s wearing flip flops that have no traction on a surface like smooth metal to know that she has to walk carefully. Up the stairs, across the pasarela, back down the stairs…almost all the way down, when she gets careless. Honestly, I didn’t even have time to notice the falling sensation…I just realized that my bum was wet and sore, my bags that I had in my hands were no longer in my hands, there were a few areas on my arms and my back that hurt a little and there were quite a few people looking at me…muddy and on the ground. That was definitely a fun experience. Thank goodness I wasn’t further up on the pasarela because that could really be dangerous. I only slid down a couple of steps this time. I got up and walked away with only a bruised hand, a bruised arm, a bruised ankle, a bruised behind…and the most severely bruised ego. It got even more bruised when I was at Emiliani today and one of the boys told me that he saw me on Saturday and then asked me if I was ok. I was a little confused for a moment until I remembered the fall and then asked him if he saw me fall and he said yes…enter embarrassment stage left…full speed. Lesson learned though, I will make sure to tread more carefully next time.
I’ve found that my moral references are definitely changing some. At one of the schools that we work at, there are about 80 boys and all of them have homework each night…and two care takers to help them with it. Needless to say there are quite a few that are more than just a little behind on their homework. We’ve decided that we’re going to take extra time at night to help them specifically with their homework. Well, they boys are working on their English homework and they are AWFUL. The instructions are all written in English and are completely vague. There are many times when I’m not even sure what the assignment is and yes, I’d like to think I’m fluent in English. Then, add on top of it all the fact that they have ridiculous amounts of homework to do each day. Not a good combination, and needless to say, they are more than just a little behind. Well, so then enter in the idea of copying. The boys find a workbook that was done last year from one of the older boys…who had found a workbook the year before that had been done by one of the older boys etc. and they all copy off of it. Well, it kinda defeats the purpose of learning the language…and it is obviously morally wrong…BUT when I talk with the boys and I listen to their English skills and then I look at the workbooks and find out how completely awful they are, and then also notice the extensive volumes of home work they’re required to do each night and, well, I almost don’t blame them. One did loan me his workbook over the weekend. I was able to correct it and then took notes on what kinds of errors they’re consistently making and have planned a few English lessons off of it. Hopefully we’ll make some headway.
I find myself wondering, as I sit in the dark typing so my roommates can sleep, why are bugs attracted to light? Is it the heat? Is it the actual light? And then, why do they walk in circles? I find myself trying to “type” around them and not be TOO distracted by them…but they’re really curious animals. Oh…that reminds me. I was talking to another boy from Emiliani today (his name is Josh) and he came into the home from school and told us that he was crying for a long time today and we asked why and he told us “a little animal came to me and went “pfhh” in my eye” and I was thinking a little animal…what is he talking about? And then I thought OH a bug. We found it still in his eye. Yuck. But after that he stopped crying. I guess mission accomplished? One thing that I find really interesting is that when Í'm places like Emiliani or CIPI or CISNA I go between feelings of being a friend, to being entertainment, to being a foreigner, to being a mom, to being an advocate, to being a referee...talk about hats. It's such a wonderful opportunity though because no matter what I am...I feel it's what they need me to be. Sometimes they just need a mom to get out a sliver or put on a bandaid...sometimes they need someone to joke around with...sometimes they need someone to keep them from fighting. It's a great time, no matter what.
I have a new little friend at CIPI. His name is Diego and he is the most serious two year old I think I’ve ever met. He came in with a bunch of bruises and sores and I don’t know much of his background other than he’s been abandoned and has seen some abuse. He is absolutely precious though. He will never really instigate hugs or cuddles, but when you go and grab him and hug him and cuddle with him, he doesn’t want to be put down. I make sure to smother him in kisses when-ever I’m there. Because there are so few workers to the number of kids there at nap time, generally speaking, the kids are just put into cribs. The other day he was crying and crying…obviously tired, but just wanting a little bit of love and hugs. I picked him up and he snuggled in right away and stopped crying. He would fall asleep quickly but would whimper any time I went to put him down. We cuddled for a while until I just HAD to leave and so I put him in his crib even though he was crying a little and I rubbed his back until he finally fell asleep. I left when he was asleep and was so nervous that I was going to give him separation anxiety or something because I wasn’t going to be there when he woke up…and quite possibly he was going to be transferred over the weekend. Well, much to my joy, he was still there and I had the chance to hug and kiss him and snuggle with him again…AND, the thing that makes me most excited…I finally got him to smile and giggle a little. It’s such a sweet happy sound. I’ve included a picture of us. He’s so much fun and he’s such a good boy. He got transferred from CIPI yesterday, so I'm glad I got pictures of him on Monday.
Our girls sure are troopers. Getting them up relatively early in the morning…cold, rotating showers…trying to find their own personal space…all that fun and excitement. Gregan and I had the chance to get to know the girls better through learning about and understanding the goals they have for themselves over the summer. I’m really excited to help encourage the realization of these goals for the girls. So often goals are a burden that we “have” to carry. I’m really excited to see what can be done to encourage the girls to basically make the most of their time and experiences that they’re going to have here…and how they can feel that they are becoming more of the individual they want to be. It helped me understand more about the motives of the girls and why they’re here. It helped me get to know them better in general.
We got everyone out the door relatively easily and mostly on time. A brief walk down the hill with a cacophony of whistles and honks and kissy noises following my brood of 10 new girls…but 12 gringos in all.
So, the whole journal idea isn’t working so well. I obviously haven’t been keeping up with it seeing that it’s a month later. Let’s try this a new way.
On Saturday I had the opportunity to do more laundry by hand. Well, let’s start from the beginning. We move into the house that has, much to my joy, a washing machine…and then much to my sadness, one that doesn’t work…but then, much to my joy, I find that there’s only a broken belt underneath the washing machine and that, quite possibly, was an easily fixable problem. So, a few days later, and a friend making a few different runs to a few different repair places (the first time we didn’t have the make/model of the washing machine, the second time they gave us the wrong belt size, and the third time was the charm right?) we had a washing machine that was working much to my joy. After two and a half loads among everyone in the house, I smelled hot rubber and found, much to my sadness that the belt had broken again, meaning that there was probably something wrong with the washing machine that makes the belt break. SO, it’s back to washing clothing by hand…after not doing it for a long time because I was hoping against hope that maybe that washing machine WOULD one day decide to work. So…on Saturday, after procrastinating it for way too long, I decide it’s the perfect time to do some laundry because there were only 4 of us in the house and consequently more clothesline space. Lovely El Salvador and the fact that clothesline space under a covered space is a hot commodity. There’s nothing worse than spending a LOT of time washing clothes and going out to the line a few days later to check and see if they’re dry (yes, it does take a few days here because of the humidity) and thinking that they’re ALMOST dry but that if you take them off the line that morning then they’re going to be just damp enough to sour after you fold them and put them in the closet. So, you think to yourself, I’m just going to leave them up while I’m working today and will come home and put them all away…then you’re at a project and you hear the distant sound of thunder and know that all your work has suddenly been set at naught. The clothes will not only be totally wet again, but they will be wet with rain water which, consequently, make them dirty and smelly. SO, then you have the choice to wear either smelly clothes or wash them all over again…Yeah, that’s not a fun choice to make. (I did bring Febreeze down for that specific reason though…) Yes, clothesline in a covered area is definitely coveted. You know you’re really getting into your laundry when the clothes you’re wearing while washing the dirty clothes are just as wet as the clothes hanging on the line. Let’s explain the clothes washing experience. First of all you sit there and regret letting it go as long as you did and thinking that you shouldn’t use a grocery bag as a laundry bag because it’s too big. Then you go out and fill up part of the pila with water. For those of you that don’t know, a pila is a big concrete box that has a drain in the bottom and a faucet at top. It’s a little higher than waist high and the size varies, but ours is about the size of a refrigerator laying down on its side. Then, over the top and off to the side of the pila there is a “shelf” of sorts that is about 3 inches deep and has it’s own drainage system. So, the idea is that you have this big holding container of water and then you have this little area that you can do your work (laundry, dishes, or whatever) and you just grab little bowl fulls of water from the big storage area and splash it up on the work area. You use a little water and get the clothes wet, you use detergent that is in a round can shape and roll it over the top of the clothing, you scrub and get some friction worked up and some foam and bubbles…and after about 10 items of clothing you’re finding that the tops of your knuckles are rubbed pretty raw and you’re finding new creative ways to hold your clothing to create the friction but spare your knuckles a little more. Then you spread out the clothing, you splash more water on it, squeeze and ring it out, more water, more squeezing and ringing to try to get out more soap…and you keep doing this until either the water comes out pretty clear or you get so tired of the stinkin soap bubbles that you just figure “soap is clean right? That means even if the clothes have soap in them, they’re clean…right?” Just if you’re wondering, no, that’s not right…BUT, in El Salvador, it works…it flies. So, your forearms are tired (they actually ache the next day, now when’s the last time you got sore from doing laundry? It’s been a while for me) your shoulders are tired and you try to find space that is covered that you can hang your clothing on. It’s quite the interesting experience. There are two things that you dread though…dropping wet laundry on the tiled ground. The tiled ground is NEVER clean…and it seems that the white shirts are usually the clothes that just happen to fall…or if you haven’t tied a secure knot and before you know the whole line has gone down. There is nothing quite as heavy as a clothesline full of wet clothing when you HAVE to keep it up to try to keep the clothes off the dirty ground as much as possible. I have a good friend that was over on Saturday who was teasing me about my clothes washing skills. I told him that he should show me how it’s done. He was very specific about when to turn it inside out or rightside out….and how much soap you should use and how much water etc. I think I’ll stick with my method…it’s a little bit de lost Estados Unidos and a little bit de El Salvador and it works for me and I get clean smelling clothing. I hope it really sis clean, but at least it smells clean…which is something I’m a fan of. So, that is the process of doing laundry here.
So, I’ve got a great embarrassing moment to share now. Well, I’ve got two. First of all, let’s create the setting. We’re at a home for boys. We’re working with a group of boys that are around the ages of 14 or so…and I’ve got a newspaper and a mind blank. I’m talking about the “newspaper”…or so I think. The word is periodico right? Well, for some reason I keep saying periodo…which is NOT newspaper. I’ll give you all a chance to guess what it really means…and can I tell you, the boys thought it was the funniest thing on the face of the earth. Boy, I felt dumb after I finally clued in as to why they were all laughing at me each time I talked about the “newspaper”.
Embarrassing moment number two…flip flops, smooth surfaces and rain do NOT mix. Let’s paint another picture. There’s a road called the Pan American Highway. It runs through almost all the countries of Central America, including El Salvador. It’s a very busy road, especially at the stop outside of La Ceiba because it’s the edge of the city and a good place to change bus routes. Because it’s so busy they’ve built these “pasarelas” or bridges that span the road and are made out of metal and have chain link fencing on the sides of it. Enter the rain and Rachel walking across it. She is “smart” enough to know that she’s wearing flip flops that have no traction on a surface like smooth metal to know that she has to walk carefully. Up the stairs, across the pasarela, back down the stairs…almost all the way down, when she gets careless. Honestly, I didn’t even have time to notice the falling sensation…I just realized that my bum was wet and sore, my bags that I had in my hands were no longer in my hands, there were a few areas on my arms and my back that hurt a little and there were quite a few people looking at me…muddy and on the ground. That was definitely a fun experience. Thank goodness I wasn’t further up on the pasarela because that could really be dangerous. I only slid down a couple of steps this time. I got up and walked away with only a bruised hand, a bruised arm, a bruised ankle, a bruised behind…and the most severely bruised ego. It got even more bruised when I was at Emiliani today and one of the boys told me that he saw me on Saturday and then asked me if I was ok. I was a little confused for a moment until I remembered the fall and then asked him if he saw me fall and he said yes…enter embarrassment stage left…full speed. Lesson learned though, I will make sure to tread more carefully next time.
I’ve found that my moral references are definitely changing some. At one of the schools that we work at, there are about 80 boys and all of them have homework each night…and two care takers to help them with it. Needless to say there are quite a few that are more than just a little behind on their homework. We’ve decided that we’re going to take extra time at night to help them specifically with their homework. Well, they boys are working on their English homework and they are AWFUL. The instructions are all written in English and are completely vague. There are many times when I’m not even sure what the assignment is and yes, I’d like to think I’m fluent in English. Then, add on top of it all the fact that they have ridiculous amounts of homework to do each day. Not a good combination, and needless to say, they are more than just a little behind. Well, so then enter in the idea of copying. The boys find a workbook that was done last year from one of the older boys…who had found a workbook the year before that had been done by one of the older boys etc. and they all copy off of it. Well, it kinda defeats the purpose of learning the language…and it is obviously morally wrong…BUT when I talk with the boys and I listen to their English skills and then I look at the workbooks and find out how completely awful they are, and then also notice the extensive volumes of home work they’re required to do each night and, well, I almost don’t blame them. One did loan me his workbook over the weekend. I was able to correct it and then took notes on what kinds of errors they’re consistently making and have planned a few English lessons off of it. Hopefully we’ll make some headway.
I find myself wondering, as I sit in the dark typing so my roommates can sleep, why are bugs attracted to light? Is it the heat? Is it the actual light? And then, why do they walk in circles? I find myself trying to “type” around them and not be TOO distracted by them…but they’re really curious animals. Oh…that reminds me. I was talking to another boy from Emiliani today (his name is Josh) and he came into the home from school and told us that he was crying for a long time today and we asked why and he told us “a little animal came to me and went “pfhh” in my eye” and I was thinking a little animal…what is he talking about? And then I thought OH a bug. We found it still in his eye. Yuck. But after that he stopped crying. I guess mission accomplished? One thing that I find really interesting is that when Í'm places like Emiliani or CIPI or CISNA I go between feelings of being a friend, to being entertainment, to being a foreigner, to being a mom, to being an advocate, to being a referee...talk about hats. It's such a wonderful opportunity though because no matter what I am...I feel it's what they need me to be. Sometimes they just need a mom to get out a sliver or put on a bandaid...sometimes they need someone to joke around with...sometimes they need someone to keep them from fighting. It's a great time, no matter what.
I have a new little friend at CIPI. His name is Diego and he is the most serious two year old I think I’ve ever met. He came in with a bunch of bruises and sores and I don’t know much of his background other than he’s been abandoned and has seen some abuse. He is absolutely precious though. He will never really instigate hugs or cuddles, but when you go and grab him and hug him and cuddle with him, he doesn’t want to be put down. I make sure to smother him in kisses when-ever I’m there. Because there are so few workers to the number of kids there at nap time, generally speaking, the kids are just put into cribs. The other day he was crying and crying…obviously tired, but just wanting a little bit of love and hugs. I picked him up and he snuggled in right away and stopped crying. He would fall asleep quickly but would whimper any time I went to put him down. We cuddled for a while until I just HAD to leave and so I put him in his crib even though he was crying a little and I rubbed his back until he finally fell asleep. I left when he was asleep and was so nervous that I was going to give him separation anxiety or something because I wasn’t going to be there when he woke up…and quite possibly he was going to be transferred over the weekend. Well, much to my joy, he was still there and I had the chance to hug and kiss him and snuggle with him again…AND, the thing that makes me most excited…I finally got him to smile and giggle a little. It’s such a sweet happy sound. I’ve included a picture of us. He’s so much fun and he’s such a good boy. He got transferred from CIPI yesterday, so I'm glad I got pictures of him on Monday.
These are some of the mom's that live at CIPI...and yes, they ARE young. 13 and 14
2 comments:
I think I need to "gird up my loins, fresh courage take". This is going to be a very difficult experience for me I am afraid.... (not the washing and slipperiness, but all of the little children who need so much love and guidance.)my7kids
What a blessing you are to those children, Rachel. You really are living up to your middle name!
Kathy Harker
Post a Comment