And I forgot to mention two things:
1) We now have a pump and a hose! In June they showed me how they put a pump in the well and how we can pump water into buckets at the push of a button. Literally. But just as I was trying to figure out where the hose went (I was looking at the well as if I had never seen it before) host pops showed me that he hosed it near the front of the house. Now just in front of the house, I can stick the hose in a bucket, plug in the cord and watch as the bucket fills itself! I don't even have to walk to the well!
2) The kindergarten project is coming along slowly but surely but time is definitely cutting short. If you would like more information on the project you can visit http://kindergartenproject.webs.com
There is also a link to the donation site as well. If you know of organizations that would be interested, please don't hesitate to pass along the link. God willing, we'd like all funding to be in by then end of the month as we can't use a dime until the entire amount is in.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Is that really the finish line already?
August 1, 2009
I suppose I’ve mentioned every time that writing today’s date has given me a shock. But it wasn’t just writing it this time. It was seeing it as I woke up. Perhaps it’s premature, but this month is the start of what I feel will be the “dreading what can’t be gotten done” period. I’ve mentally crossed the line between thinking there’s still time and accepting that there’s only time for smaller things now, or for finishing things that have already been started. And perhaps that’s not true. I’m not a pessimist, after all. I feel, instead that this is just part of the cycle. I’m entering the last phase. August and September might very well be my last full months in the village. October is a possibility but I’d rather plan under a tighter deadline than a longer one. Wow. Even writing that is weird. Last full months.
Seeing as I haven’t written a detailed update in months now, this could go on for ages. I’ll keep it (as) short (as possible) with some of my strongest memories from June and July.
1) Michael and Kat visiting in June: My main thought is gratitude but my second thought is: this makes it real now. When I left last May for Michael’s graduation, I felt as if I had left too soon. I had woken up from a long dream and wondered if Moldova even existed. But now, they have come and experienced this with me and it connects both parts of my life. These will not be isolated experiences, detached from those who have known me my whole life. Thank you, as well, to all of you who read my updates, who have followed this experience with me. I want, more than ever, for you all to be a part of this with me.
2) I had a great conversation with the Agricultural guy at the mayor’s office. He hinted me into his office and shut the door behind him. I was mildly concerned. But then he leaned behind his desk and pulled out a plastic bottle filled with dark wine. “Oh no,” I said. “I can’t. I got sick. I can’t.” “Just a little,” he insisted. “Today’s a holiday.” But what ensued was by far the best conversation we’ve ever had. He’s normally a joker, purposefully trying to push my buttons by asking me inappropriate, stereotyping questions about Americans and telling me I don’t understand him. But here, he was genuinely open, curious about what I would take away from my experience and asking me if I was going to write a book. He wanted to know if other Americans got along as well with their community, with their mayor’s office. We talked about the gamble of Peace Corps service and he told me I should title my book “21” after the card game.
But then he asked me about whether it was tiring to be in another culture for so long. That was the perfect word: tiring. Yes. I had been thinking that just recently. Even when it becomes easier, even when you speak the language well enough, you still have to be aware 24/7 of the things you are doing and saying, of how you look and present yourself, of who you offend. Even when you aren’t aware of it, your mind is working to adjust to the language around you, to the norms that still aren’t normal, and to how to translate the response you haven’t thought of yet.
But then he told me that when his daughter was in America, she got the impression that Americans “fight for themselves.” And when he said it in Romanian, I took slight offense, thinking that he implied we were selfish. But when I write it in English – word for word – it could come across instead that we just don’t like handouts, we don’t expect someone to solve our problems for us. In Moldova, everything is communal. Everything. And sometimes that is wonderful. If you bring a water bottle with you, it will be shared. But I understand now how rude it can seem when I have a water bottle that’s just for me and I’m going to bring it to the table that you have prepared without offering it to you. So what do we do? We hide the water bottle.
3) Training with the new group: Last week I went to lead a one-hour training for the new group on “finding and defining work in the community.” I sat in for the motivation training that came before mine. And I just kept thinking: if only you knew how important this really is. And so by the time my session came, I was so filled with emotion and adrenaline that my tired (and sick) body was re-energized. No one tells us what to expect. Instead they tell us not to expect anything. But I cannot tell you how emotional it was for me to sit in that room and listen to the trainees’ optimism. One of the saddest things for me has been seeing some of the most warm, lighthearted people turn into cold, pessimistic volunteers. And I didn’t realize how heartbreaking it has been until I was once again around a group of volunteers who don’t yet have a reason to drop their optimism. So I told them honestly about the ways I messed up and what I learned from it. I told them what I did wrong so that they don’t make the same mistakes. And then I told them how I learned, what I did differently, and what I would definitely do again. I told them WHY these topics are so important and WHY to take it to heart. Without anything to relate to, these “motivation” trainings just seemed like common sense to me back then. But being there two years later, looking in hindsight, they are so essential. I wanted to make sure that the reality of that session and then my own session was carried to them, was explained and elaborated upon. The training needs to be real. It needs to give honest preparation for the ups and the downs, not just telling us that there will be downs but what they might look like.
4) Saying Goodbye: The first goodbye was awkward. I hadn’t seen enough of her in the last year. I would’ve liked to have seen her more. It seemed the last few times were just moments in passing. And as she walked me out, I knew I wouldn’t see her before she left. And I was quiet, sad, and reflective. But the second one was surprising to me. It was a surprise because I didn’t expect to cry. I left the night early but I would’ve had to leave at some point. And when it actually came to it, I started crying. Really crying. I’ve missed people that have left already. I’ve genuinely missed people that left a year ago. But there’s something different about one of your peers, one of your friends, someone who has been here almost the entirety of your service leaving you when you are not quite done. And it’s totally possible that I will see her again, but the question is now obvious: when?
There are still things to get done, some of which are exciting and stressful and I know that this is part of the game: learning only at the end what is possible. But I desperately want to learn from those who have led good examples, to copy some of their successes during this last period. I would like to go visit another volunteer tomorrow as he opens a center he’s funded, but my own camp starts on Monday and that is exciting in itself. It’s going to be a scramble at the end, but I want to soak it all in, get in as much as possible, and to not let this last-leg fatigue keep me down. I remember another volunteer mentioning a few months ago: every time I ride the bus in now, I try to stay awake to look out the window because I know I’ll be leaving in a few months. I think that my time has come for that as well.
I suppose I’ve mentioned every time that writing today’s date has given me a shock. But it wasn’t just writing it this time. It was seeing it as I woke up. Perhaps it’s premature, but this month is the start of what I feel will be the “dreading what can’t be gotten done” period. I’ve mentally crossed the line between thinking there’s still time and accepting that there’s only time for smaller things now, or for finishing things that have already been started. And perhaps that’s not true. I’m not a pessimist, after all. I feel, instead that this is just part of the cycle. I’m entering the last phase. August and September might very well be my last full months in the village. October is a possibility but I’d rather plan under a tighter deadline than a longer one. Wow. Even writing that is weird. Last full months.
Seeing as I haven’t written a detailed update in months now, this could go on for ages. I’ll keep it (as) short (as possible) with some of my strongest memories from June and July.
1) Michael and Kat visiting in June: My main thought is gratitude but my second thought is: this makes it real now. When I left last May for Michael’s graduation, I felt as if I had left too soon. I had woken up from a long dream and wondered if Moldova even existed. But now, they have come and experienced this with me and it connects both parts of my life. These will not be isolated experiences, detached from those who have known me my whole life. Thank you, as well, to all of you who read my updates, who have followed this experience with me. I want, more than ever, for you all to be a part of this with me.
2) I had a great conversation with the Agricultural guy at the mayor’s office. He hinted me into his office and shut the door behind him. I was mildly concerned. But then he leaned behind his desk and pulled out a plastic bottle filled with dark wine. “Oh no,” I said. “I can’t. I got sick. I can’t.” “Just a little,” he insisted. “Today’s a holiday.” But what ensued was by far the best conversation we’ve ever had. He’s normally a joker, purposefully trying to push my buttons by asking me inappropriate, stereotyping questions about Americans and telling me I don’t understand him. But here, he was genuinely open, curious about what I would take away from my experience and asking me if I was going to write a book. He wanted to know if other Americans got along as well with their community, with their mayor’s office. We talked about the gamble of Peace Corps service and he told me I should title my book “21” after the card game.
But then he asked me about whether it was tiring to be in another culture for so long. That was the perfect word: tiring. Yes. I had been thinking that just recently. Even when it becomes easier, even when you speak the language well enough, you still have to be aware 24/7 of the things you are doing and saying, of how you look and present yourself, of who you offend. Even when you aren’t aware of it, your mind is working to adjust to the language around you, to the norms that still aren’t normal, and to how to translate the response you haven’t thought of yet.
But then he told me that when his daughter was in America, she got the impression that Americans “fight for themselves.” And when he said it in Romanian, I took slight offense, thinking that he implied we were selfish. But when I write it in English – word for word – it could come across instead that we just don’t like handouts, we don’t expect someone to solve our problems for us. In Moldova, everything is communal. Everything. And sometimes that is wonderful. If you bring a water bottle with you, it will be shared. But I understand now how rude it can seem when I have a water bottle that’s just for me and I’m going to bring it to the table that you have prepared without offering it to you. So what do we do? We hide the water bottle.
3) Training with the new group: Last week I went to lead a one-hour training for the new group on “finding and defining work in the community.” I sat in for the motivation training that came before mine. And I just kept thinking: if only you knew how important this really is. And so by the time my session came, I was so filled with emotion and adrenaline that my tired (and sick) body was re-energized. No one tells us what to expect. Instead they tell us not to expect anything. But I cannot tell you how emotional it was for me to sit in that room and listen to the trainees’ optimism. One of the saddest things for me has been seeing some of the most warm, lighthearted people turn into cold, pessimistic volunteers. And I didn’t realize how heartbreaking it has been until I was once again around a group of volunteers who don’t yet have a reason to drop their optimism. So I told them honestly about the ways I messed up and what I learned from it. I told them what I did wrong so that they don’t make the same mistakes. And then I told them how I learned, what I did differently, and what I would definitely do again. I told them WHY these topics are so important and WHY to take it to heart. Without anything to relate to, these “motivation” trainings just seemed like common sense to me back then. But being there two years later, looking in hindsight, they are so essential. I wanted to make sure that the reality of that session and then my own session was carried to them, was explained and elaborated upon. The training needs to be real. It needs to give honest preparation for the ups and the downs, not just telling us that there will be downs but what they might look like.
4) Saying Goodbye: The first goodbye was awkward. I hadn’t seen enough of her in the last year. I would’ve liked to have seen her more. It seemed the last few times were just moments in passing. And as she walked me out, I knew I wouldn’t see her before she left. And I was quiet, sad, and reflective. But the second one was surprising to me. It was a surprise because I didn’t expect to cry. I left the night early but I would’ve had to leave at some point. And when it actually came to it, I started crying. Really crying. I’ve missed people that have left already. I’ve genuinely missed people that left a year ago. But there’s something different about one of your peers, one of your friends, someone who has been here almost the entirety of your service leaving you when you are not quite done. And it’s totally possible that I will see her again, but the question is now obvious: when?
There are still things to get done, some of which are exciting and stressful and I know that this is part of the game: learning only at the end what is possible. But I desperately want to learn from those who have led good examples, to copy some of their successes during this last period. I would like to go visit another volunteer tomorrow as he opens a center he’s funded, but my own camp starts on Monday and that is exciting in itself. It’s going to be a scramble at the end, but I want to soak it all in, get in as much as possible, and to not let this last-leg fatigue keep me down. I remember another volunteer mentioning a few months ago: every time I ride the bus in now, I try to stay awake to look out the window because I know I’ll be leaving in a few months. I think that my time has come for that as well.
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