Being Present

I am finding that one of the most challenging parts of being an urban volunteer is finding where you belong, with whom you work and socialize with, it's all about finding your personal “community.” The Peace Corps experience and success rests on integrating with a group of people, the community. In the rural sense of Peace Corps, the “community” is obvious. In a town or village everyone knows everyone and the generally slow pace of life facilitates ones integration into the greater community as a volunteer meets the majority of the community, gets involved in the local activities, lives a lifestyle like the rest; in this rural situation it is easy to be present, available, and become a part of the community with time just merely by living within the town/village space, participating, and sharing.
In the urban sense of Peace Corps, this sense of “community” isn't so readily visible or easily accessible. People live in divided urban spaces, barrios, where people eat, sleep and live, but who don't necessarily identify within a the community of “La Marianita,” “Los Bloques,” “Bellavista,” etc. Unlike my urban Malagasy community of Marovoay, there isn't really anything that unites the Bahia area. Students study at fiscal or private schools, near or far from their homes, the majority of people who live in Leonidas Plazas work in Bahia, and I often find that people are more connected with their friends and family in Manta, Portoviejo, Guayaquil, Charlotte, NC, New Jersey, or Spain, than with their neighbors. Mostly, I notice how much more private peoples lives are here in the Bahia area than they were in my town in Madagascar. I miss seeing neighborhood women sprawled out on grass mats together trying to catch an afternoon breeze, laughing, chatting and inviting conversation from passerbys (in fact it was rude not to converse! No one has anything THAT important to do to not talk!), I miss the sense of community that I felt in Marovoay. It was a big town, but everyone seemed to intermingle in different facets of their lives and connect. I find that here in Bahia in a town of about 20,000 people many people don't even know all of their neighbors, and aren't always interested either. In Madagascar, I found my place and community with my neighbors and co-teachers, because there was an obvious connection between, and there was a genuine interest in who I was, a single, foreign woman who had come to live at the school and teach for two years. Sure, my blue eyes and fair skin, where much a burden to me in Madagascar and many times showed me the ugliest side of sexual harassment and rudeness in people, but I was, for many, the first foreign person they had been in contact with. On the flip side, tourism brings in a large portion of the local revenue in Bahia. Blue eyes and fair skin aren't new here in Bahia, in fact, the majority of people are used to seeing faces like mine come and go regularly, spending a few nights at the “Coco Bongo” Hostal, walking the quite shaded streets of town, and then catching the “panga”(launch) to Canoa to go surfing and enjoy the beach.
In all honesty, I never imagined these first three months at site would be so difficult. I thought I would repeat my first Peace Corps experience, fall into a “community” of people I lived and worked with, and find my way within a few weeks. But I lacked a lot of the Peace Corps support and host agency support. I was placed with a regional agency that administratively serves the whole northern portion of the province of Manabi. Of the 15 staff members, 5 live in Bahia or Leonidas Plazas, and only 3 are from originally Bahia. These 15 staff members spent 40-65 hours a week at their desks filling out paperwork and filing reports with the government. I was looking for an avenue to get out into the community and not into an overworked, clerical office. Even my counterpart, a woman originally from Bahia, but who has spent the last 15 years between Portoviejo and Guayaquil was not equipped to help me find “my community” and place as a Peace Corps volunteer even with her best intentions for hosting a PCV in her agency.
About one month into my service here in Bahia, I found that I was spinning my wheels at the INFA office; I was without anything to do, I knew really no one apart from the INFA staff, and my host family. I knew it would be infintely difficult to go about finding my way as a PCV alone in the Bahia and Leonidas Plazas area. I had heard from the Municipio to INFA the serious social issues that exist, low reading rates, high rates of teenage pregnancy, drug abuse, alcoholism, child abuse and neglect; there wasn't a lack of things to do and get involved with, but the method and modes of getting to work seems daunting.
The divide between Bahia and Leonidas Plazas was one of the first things I noticed upon trying to find my place in these communities here as a Peace Corps Volunteer after moving away from INFA. They are two distinct populations, with no real border. There is an interesting divide among the people of the two towns. Bahia has the illusion of wealth and prosperity, but only 2 of the 13 barrios are made of of strikingly modern, beautiful houses and condos. Leonidas Plazas, on the other hand has a rumored reputation of dangers - robberies, fights in the streets...but that too I'm finding out is more talk than reality. But movement between the two towns is constant, necessary, and to the majority of people it seems more of of a geographical difference, Bahia – North, Leonidas Plazas – East, but to many it is a divide of class, race, moral, everything; they are complete and separate worlds.
Needless to say, in a transient community of 20,000 people divided into two distinct areas, how does a lone gringa from Oregon go about finding her way, her community and her town? That was my issue. And I think it is an urban volunteers issue all the same. In an urban area with buses and taxis, boats connecting to nearby communities, tourism, commercial exporting, trade, etc, the Peace Corps foundation of being known, integrating, and with a little effort things just falling into to place, take on a new dynamic. I can't claim Bahia-Leonidas Plazas as my “community” because I can't relate and socialize within a population so large and diverse. Rather I needed to be involved in something, to belong to some place and find my “community” in a more specific sense of the word. A daunting task when you arrive to a new city divided into 45+ barrios, alone and without a lot of direction or help.
As I have written before,I found my work partner, the Parroquia (Parish) in Leonidas Plazas and its foundation after about a month in Bahia with the help of my dear Espanolas, Maria and Natalia, and was astounded, infatuated, and excited by the work they did in the greater community of L. Plazas and its surrounding communities. In my first few weeks was here, there, everywhere; I had kissed a lot of cheeks, made a lot of small talk, and hoped that I would find my place within the group. After a month of getting acquainted with people and the work of the Parroquia community, I found that I still felt like I didn't really have a place to belong, that I was without the “community” element that Peace Corps service rests so firmly on. I can't work and be a successful volunteer if I am working alone, but it was unclear to me if I was welcome to jump into existing projects or if my place was to create something new and go it alone in the name of the Parroquia.
Father Pedro Jesus, the head of everything that is the Parroquia, is an extremely busy man. He is juggling leading the catholic community of Leonidas Plazas in terms of Mass, catechisms, and everything else church related, likewise, he is the disseminating point of all the community and service work that the foundation does: micro-finance and rural community organization, the community kitchen and homework program for kids in Fanca, the regional commission for HIV-AIDS, special education and home visits for people with disability, just to name a few. Everything that the Parroquia, its volunteers and employees do, originates from him. So finding a moment to talk with this man about my personal issues of feeling isolated, uninvolved, and without much to do, seemed like a difficult point to bring up with him in the few moments I saw him in passing...also, it is worth mentioning that I need someone with a bit of patience to talk with me. Not that I cant express myself, it just takes me a little longer than the average Spanish-speaker to get my words out and my point across and sometimes Father Pedro is not that person! And I can't blame him; he didn't solicit two years of patient conversation with a volunteer from the States, and guiding me in finding my way; I know that he is happy to have me as part of the Parroquia team, but it took some extra work on my part to get the guidance I needed from him.
Until about 2 weeks ago, I was really struggling with my lack of “belonging” feelings. I felt like I was showing up to work and collaborate with people who could care less if I was there or not. Then over the course of a few days it all started falling into place. After my trip to Guayaquil, Father Pedro told me everyone missed me and was asking where I was was. One day I had an epiphany...after 6pm, as I hang out with the jovenes(youth) of the Parroquia communiy, I am always checking my watch, not wanting to get home too late, knowing that my host family is expecting me; I also found that I didn't always go to weekend events with the Parroquia, because the host family wanted me to hang out with them or that I was rushing away as soon at they were over and not hanging out and being part of the group.
It was a hard realization to make, but I found that as long as I lived with my host family who wanted me to be a part of their family, I was never going to get involved and be a part of “my community” and rely on them like I want to and need to in order to integrate and feel like I belong.
Another thing I had to put into perspective was the hours of operation of my organization and community. The Parroquia is a Parish, a Parish committed to serving the greater community of Leonidas Plazas and the surrounding communities. It is a religious organization, but it supports a series of projects that serves all people regardless of religious affliliation in order to better all peoples quality of life. Thus the work they do doesn't fit into a 9-5 box. As a volunteer focused on working with youth and families, I had to come to terms with the fact that students study from 7am till 12 or 1pm Monday to Friday; which leaves the majority of my mornings free. Likewise, Saturday and Sunday are the ideal days to organize activities and projects with youth and families. I realized that I needed to be working from noon until the evening and be available to participate in weekend events with the Parroquia that usually start at 8am on Saturday. I also found that that I needed to remove the guilt I felt from not being available to my host family to spend every evening and weekend with them. I love my host family, they are so warm, welcoming and fun! And they have made a lot of my initial struggles here in Bahia manageable, but, I had to put into perspective that I came to Ecuador to spend two years serving in and being part of a community. Once I realized that my ability to become part of a community was being hindered by my obligations to being part of a household, I knew I needed to look for some independence from the Andrade family that has welcomed me so fully and wonderfully into their lives.
It took me days to build up the courage I needed to tell the host fam that I would be moving out. Needless to say it was taken with disappointment and sadness. The decision, however, has freed me from feeling obligated to arrive in time for dinner (which I am never hungry for at 6:30) and spend my evenings at home with Karla watching TV, when I could and should be elsewhere, involved and participating. Within the course of two weeks I learned the greatest lesson of Peace Corps Ecuador so far: BEING PRESENT. With just freeing myself of outside obligations and being available, and around that Parroquia, including evenings and weekend events, I finally feel a part of something. I have friends, people who are happy to see me, a group of jovenes (young people) who hang all over me, kids that chase me up the streets of Bahia and Leonidas Plazas to say hello, invitations to dinner, everything I was was looking for. It feels good. Mostly it feels productive, like in a matter of months I will really be involved, engaged and on my way to not just participating but contributing...finally.
I know that I am my hardest critic. It's taken me a long time to admit how hard I am on myself; never satisfied with what I am doing and always wanting to do and give more of myself. Like Father Pedro reminded me the other day, I have only been with the Parroquia two months, yet I know almost everyone who works, volunteers and colaborates; I have made it out to almost all the communities to meet the families and introduce myself; I am working with groups of mothers in Bahia and in a rural community who now trust my advice and rely on me to be there and support them, I have a group of kids at the comedor (community kitchen) that anticipate my arrival everyday and actually like doing their homework because I am there helping and supporting, and that their parents (most of whom I've not met) are excited in working with me in a training for parents in the coming months. I have to remind myself that its okay to have down time, there is nothing wrong with it, and that this time with diminish with time.
I have a lovely apartment in Bahia picked out for myself, and think it will be my first move. I had a hard time locating an apartment in Leonidas Plazas that was the right size for me and in an area of town that I liked and feel safe. On my final day of apartment hunting, I found a small house and an apartment that I both liked, but neither of them are finished (missing floors, bathrooms, etc, important things!), so I can't move into them like I'd like, which is the beginning of December. They are both in barrios filled with people from “my community.” It gave me all sorts of warm fuzzies inside to see people come out of their houses and ask if I was going to be moving nearby, and for the past few days I have been inundated with kids and teens asking me when I am moving into our neighborhood...to which I have to respond; eventually, I hope. I would love to make another move in a few months into my “community's “ neighborhood, and complete my urban integration.