No running water; No running away

December 26, 2007

I like to think that I am acclimating myself really quickly. I don’t mind the outside toilet nearly as much, except, I do find myself waiting until I really can’t wait anymore. The cold just exacerbates my excuse; I’m just lazy.

“Are you used to our food?” It didn’t take long, it’s delicious!

I finally had my first tutoring today since getting to my village. Let me just reemphasize that I think everything happens for a reason. There is a reason why other people are NOT my tutor, because THIS woman is awesome.

And then, during the next portion of the day, I was really grateful for the women that I’ve been spending time with (I can’t say “working with because I really haven’t been working – except Peace Corps staff will say that this transition IS work). Today was the birthday of one of the social assistants. In our small, heated room were two desks FILLED with food and about sixteen people sitting around. I realized that I didn’t need a plate. I could have had one. In fact, half way through I ended up with one. But I didn’t need it. I didn’t mind that we all put our forks straight into the dishes. No one had a cold sore. Granted, this will turn around and bite me in the foot when I come down with something. But situations like this are going to keep coming up, so what’s a girl to do? Especially when the food is delicious and she’s hungry.

Oh, yes, but about my gratitude. I was grateful because the women took great care of me today. Even the mayor announced to the social worker sitting next to me: Take care of Samantha. (Say-man-ta) You take a shot for every toast and you toast before every shot…and you take the shot. But whenever they would fill my glass up there was always someone to make sure they didn’t put too much in my glass. Normally when you say “that’s enough,” another 50 grams get added. But my glasses could appear practically empty each time – which I was grateful for when I realized there would be seven toasts (at 1 p.m.).

January 5, 2008

New Year’s was fabulous. But yesterday was hard. I received two emails that I wasn’t expecting, and neither was good. I don’t know what made me most upset – the news or that fact that I couldn’t get a hold of anybody. I tried telling myself that, even if I were in L.A., there isn’t much I can do anyway. But the fact was that there was a lot I was upset about and this news just made me aware of it. So I went for a run. On my way out of the house:

Host dad: Samantha you need to dress warmer! It’s -11°!

Samantha: NEGATIVE 11?

Host Dad: It’s not California. You can’t wear that.

January 8, 2008

I realized that the major source of my emotion was my own expectation. And when your expectations for three different things all turn out to be wrong…well it can either be humorous or annoying. Having a phone and internet made me think that lack of communication wouldn’t be an issue after all. So then when I couldn’t get a hold of the people I was aching to hear from, it made me upset. Actually, it pissed me off. I was agitated and annoyed. I was cranky and pacing. For three days I stared at the cell phone that was making me more upset and then I decided to write in my journal for the first time in too long. It calmed me down. I prayed for health for the one I’m scared for and safety for the other, and patience for myself. I meditated on compassion for a select few. This is my reality here: I am helpless. But of course I’d be helpless in L.A. There wouldn’t be much I could do there either, but being in Moldova makes it that much more obvious.

And I don’t mean to sound pessimistic. When I say I’m helpless, I mean it in the “let go and let God” sense. There are certain things we can do and certain things that would be ridiculous to take responsibility for. I’m not going to change Moldovan foreign policy. I’m not going to change medical results. I’m not going to change racial attitudes. But I am in NO WAY underestimating the power of the human spirit, of human interaction, and, ultimately, of love. Feeling “helpless” means that I am trying to accept that I have less control over results and more control over how we deal with them, how we enjoy them regardless. Moldovans are helping me realize that. Friends and family are helping me realize that, too. And, actually, so is Tom Brokaw’s “The Greatest Generation.” Not every American would be shocked by the lack of running water here. Not every American would have to “adjust”…just us who take water and rain for granted. This book is the perfect compliment to my experiences right now.

On Sunday, my tutor and I got to talking about the summer drought. For some reason I didn’t realize it had affected the wells. I knew that the lack of rain affected the crops, that it affected the price, amount, and quality of food, as well as the livelihood of those who grow the fruits and vegetables. (It also made the grapes sweeter and, thus, the wine stronger). But I didn’t think that the water in the ground was related to the water that fell from the sky. Who knows why I didn’t make the connection.. I’m lying. I know why - because I’ve never had to think about it, it never affected ME. She told me that people would get to the wells with their horse drawn carts in the morning and fill buckets of water from the well, so if she didn’t get there early enough, there was no water for the day…or the week. Let alone no RUNNING water…there was no water AT ALL. So much for worrying about boiling it, bathing in a bucket, or brushing my teeth. No water for soup or laundry. None. What’s even crazier…is that could very well happen again next summer…and I live here.