Non-Rainy Season Rain

Ale, my new roommate, asked me last week one cloudy day if it would rain. In my know-it-all-i-have-six-months-more-experience-in-Mexico-than-you voice I responded, "No, Ale. It only rains during rainy season. That ended in October. And even then, it only rains at night."

Today we woke up to another cloudy day. Confident the skies would not break lose I brought no umbrella on my trek outdoors. Half-an-hour after leaving the house it began to sprinkle. A few hours later in the early afternoon it began to pour. The forecast doesn't even look good for tomorrow when Ale plans on hiking a nearby ruin, but she might have to cancel it due to the prospect of rain, which according to me, would never be an issue for her.

I SWEAR this is only the second day it has rained since rainy season ended in October. But the heavens have unleashed on me because my know-it-all attitude got the best of me.

Ale, I stand corrected. It appears to rain outside of rainy season. I hope you will forgive me.

From New to Old

Two weeks ago we welcomed eight new volunteers. Their arrival reclassified my generation of volunteers (who arrived in July of 2009) from "new" to "old" as NPH welcomes a new generation every six months.

Becoming an "old" volunteer has brought on a new sense of responsibility. Because I'm no longer new in the neighborhood, my role as an observer and Spanish-language-learner has transitioned into active staff member of the care-giving team. Since my return from winter vacation, I have seen a difference in how my co-workers and directors treat me. I have been given more responsibility such as organizing activities, giving children permission to leave the house, and making calls for directors.

The kids now see me as a part of the house - as a caregiver just like the others. They come to me with their problems or open up if they're having a bad day with the expectation that I will be there for them. They're scared of me catching them out of the dorms after bedtime whereas before my presence was no threat to them at all - them knowing they could pounce all over me by speaking really fast in Spanish.

In the office, my Spanish is at the point where I'm not apprehensive to speak to superiors or other important figures. I'm not afraid to ask for the definition of a word if I don't understand.

The arrival of new volunteers has forced me to question myself - what have I done here thus far and what am I going to do my last five months here?

I've done the learning of the systems, made the adjustment to the culture, and acquired the language. There's no holding back now and time to gear into full steam ahead.

In Memory of Molly

I returned from home after two weeks of vacation this past Sunday. I was excited to come back, already having enough free time at home to become a couch potato. Also, a little overwhelmed at the thought of another six months. But, the break was good and renewing. Starting my second six months in conjunction with the start of a new year somehow gives me more of a push to make my last six months here better.

Soon after my return, Haiti was struck by an earthquake. Nuestros Pequeños Hermanos has a home in Haiti as well as a hospital, school, and special education program. Everyone’s thoughts here went immediately to our brothers and sisters in Haiti.
Wednesday came only with the news that we could find online. We heard that the pequeños in the home were safe and secure. The earthquake barely touched the home which is located high in the mountains further away from the shocks. But other buildings received substantial damage.

Thursday came with more news. The building which houses volunteers and visitors completely collapsed. The brother of a volunteer who was visiting his sister died. Another volunteer, Molly, was still missing.

And today, Friday, by keeping constant vigilance over twitter, news sites, and emails. We found out that the body Molly Hightower, 22, was found earlier today.

I want to extend my deepest regrets and comfort to her family.

The news of her passing is hitting me harder than I would have thought. Molly went down to Haiti to volunteer for NPH the same time I came down here to Mexico. She graduated last May from college. She’s been working with special needs kids in the orphanage since she arrived. Her blog is beautiful (www.mollyinhaiti.blogspot.com). When I first heard she was missing, I found her blog. Her last entry was on December 30th, a week after returning from her vacation of six months. She missed home but loved her kids even more.

Molly is not the only one who NPH lost to the earthquake. Office workers, adults who once used to live in the orphanage, and family members of NPH are among NPH’s losses.

It’s overwhelming to begin to think about the earthquake’s effects past the specific context of NPH. Within our sector, there is already so much loss and suffering. There are hundreds of other organizations and hundreds of thousands of other people who have suffered great, great losses.

As always in events such as these, I have begun to think more of “life.” It’s unpredictable. It’s incomprehensible. It’s joyous and heartbreaking all at the same time.

I find it truly an honor to be here to be part of the NPH family. Really, they have done more for my development than I have for theirs. NPH Mexico has opened my eyes, has taught me unconditional acceptance. It has given me the chance to be part of something wonderful. I’m so grateful to NPH - that in my life, I can contribute to what NPH is doing.

At the end of our lives, whether that is tomorrow or one hundred years from now, all we can do, is live doing what we love and spend time with those whom we love. So when that day comes, as predicted or in the blink of an eye, we’re at least content with the life we have lived.



If you feel moved to support NPH Haiti, visit www.friendsoftheorphans.com, the United States based fundraising group for Nuestros Pequeños Hermanos.

Peeing in the Dark

About a month ago, the light bulb burned out in the teacher's bathroom. The problem was temporarily remedied with a candle which barely lighted the toilet seat. Nonetheless, it was sufficient.

Now all the candles are gone. And I'm assuming because of budget cuts, the light bulb hasn't been replaced. But now, the bathroom is completely dark requiring master navigation of toilet paper, sink, and soap.

I'm really diversifying my talents here in Mexico.

Spanglish

When I visited family a couple weeks ago in Canada and the US, it was the first time being back in an English-speaking world. I quickly discovered that I had lost my English fluency.

In Mexico, the only people I speak English with are the other volunteers (and in my English classes). We speak a form of Spanglish. Mostly English, but when we forget a word in English or a Spanish word just fits better, we can use it without the worry of being misunderstood.

I quickly discovered, thanks to my mom's blank face, that when talking about not having the "ganas" to go out or that something was "mala onda" that I had lost my English.

So while my Spanish flunecy increases, my English fluency decreases. I guess there's only so much processing and containing of information my brain can do. But really, I'd like to speak just one language without any difficulty.

Reverse Culture Shock

Mexico has become my home so much to the point that when I went home to the US I found everything "weird." Upon my reutrn to Mexico, everything was once again "normal." Like, in the US, why couldn't I negotiate prices? Why did I blend in so much? Why is just a sandwich $6-7 instead of $3.50? Why is it so darn cold?

Whereas when I arrived I could write a blog entry a day based on cultural differences, I'm starting to have nothing to say because American culture customs have become a distant memory and I have replaced it with Mexican culture.

Soy Un Hombre

Today, while two of my girls were straightening their hair using my roommate's straightener, I was joking around with them about being a guy. Those of you who know me know I spend little time in front of the mirror putting on make-up, fixing my hair, etc. My girls were asking me why I don't straighten my hair, and I jokingly said "It's because I'm a man."

One of the girls continues to joke with me, while the other one falls silent for a few minutes. Finally, she looks at me from the mirror and goes:

"Naomi, are you really a man?"

...I don't think my sarcasm will ever come across in Spanish. That's what I get for having an American accent and not speaking fluently.