What´s my role again?

Although there is always something going on down here, especially a myriad of school activities lightly peppered with seemingly spontaneous patriotic holidays, the size and pace of our beloved Tacna doesn´t allow for too many dramatic fluctuations in this quaint desert town (however, we did just recently get a set of super high-tech traffic lights in the town´s modest center!). Still, after watching a year in Peru come and pass a few months ago, welcoming the new volunteers and our tearful sendoffs to the outgoing volunteers, the Christmas and New Years holidays were approaching with much anticipation and excitement as new themes and twists to the adventure continue to redefine and shed light on the experience.

A few days before Christmas´ Eve, my sister came down to visit and see just what in the world her older brother had gotten himself into. This was the first time I have seen anybody from home since that fateful day in early November 2008 when I bid farewell to the comfort of familiarity in the States. I was very eagerly excited for her arrival, but had no idea what it would be like to see her after over a year.

According to a formal volunteer in Tacna, Jeff Thielman, is his book Volunteer with the Poor in Peru, “one of the worst things about travel is the incommunicability, and ultimately the alienating effect, of the experience. We can tell our friends that we have been to the other side of the moon, and they can reply, “Yes, yes, isn´t that interesting. That must have been a really incredible trip.” But if they themselves have not been to the moon or to Peru or even Bermuda or New York – have been shaken by what to us was in a way akin to death and rebirth – or if they are not exceptionally sensitive persons who can learn from what someone else has seen and felt, our travels end up isolating us from old companions, even family. They don´t understand we end up saying to ourselves. They just don´t understand.” I too was wary of this, but very happy my sister could see with her own eyes and experience with her own heart some of my experience here.

Through the JVI discernment process, I learned to better communicate the answer to the consistent question, “Why in the world did I want to leave home?”, in a fairly sharp and expressive way. Yet, personally it had been a challenge for me to describe “what I was getting myself into,” as friends and family had so questioned before my departure. I tried my best to share what I thought I would be doing in a way so as to relate the inter-related, multi-faceted JVI approach in a clear-cut and easy to understand explanation. However, inevitably in trying to relate this best to unique audiences, different descriptions were delivered to distinct individuals. To some I shared the ideals of fighting for justice, witnessing faith, building community, and living simply, yet to others I said I would be teaching English as a second language in a Peruvian high school, or even more brief, community service, still briefer to others I said simply: service.

Granted, this is all before I officially stepped foot on Peruvian soil, and wasn´t quite sure about all the details myself. Nonetheless, looking back, I can admit now that at times with college acquaintances or family friends, I was afraid to be vulnerable enough to really open myself up and divulge the heart felt answers to the “whys?” and “whats?” (I´m still not quite tactful enough to answer the “how in the world are you going to do this?” But I´m working on it!) I felt much more comfortable in sharing this with people who I thought understood the importance of a “faith that does justice” or the “preferential option for the poor” and at times I questioned the motives of people who asked, thinking, “Do they really care and want to know or are they just being polite by asking and would prefer to not to hear the dirt?” This frustrated my because in my cowardliness to be vulnerable, I was selling myself, the programs and the experience short – letting a perfect opportunity to share the significance of our greater human call to live with and for the least of our brothers and sisters slip right by. Additionally, instead of preaching to the choir, shouldn’t these involved themes and discussion regarding the “whys,” “whats” and “hows” be directed to those of my friends and family who didn´t “understand” to shed more light on uncomfortable and taboo topics such as the lack of distribution of wealth leading to poverty, sickness, and suffering?

Once I did get a feel for the situations at hand after living and working here for a few months, some of these questions were answered, but I questioned and examined my role as a JV even moreso than before.

Was I just a teacher? No way. I didn´t have the experience nor knowledge to call myself anything close to a full-blown teacher, but I put lots of emphasis on my time outside the classroom with the students, something I noticed that my highly respected colleagues really didn´t do, and even frowned upon.

Was I a mentor or role model figure? I wish, but probably far from it, even though my efforts in this regard were great, their were dramatically outweighed by my inability to motivate and challenge the students due to lack of cultural understanding and language influidities.

Was I a friend? Even though this is what would come most natural, this is not what I am asked to do and especially not when to maintain respect in a class a clear line has to be drawn in the student-teacher relationship.

Was I just some wacky gringo who asks too many questions and “unnecessarilly” challenges the institution? Maybe, I don´t know.

I reasoned that myself, my students, neighbors and friends here are all companions on journeys, by no means the same route, but our paths do line up and often intersect. To me it sounded cute and poetic, but a “wishy-washy” “flowers, sunshine, and rainbows” outlook, especially when I get the zingers from people I encounter in Peru itself like, “What are you doing in my country? And in Tacna of all God-forsaken places?” In spite of this, I believe the Brazilian educator Paulo Freire says it best, “We are all teachers and learners together.”

Still, more than any emotion, I have been filled with such great joy as it had been such a blessing to share this experience with someone from home. Not only did my sister hear me talk about life here and see pictures on-line, but to share with her the experience in real life – the smells of the fresh bread being baked up town mixed with the sandy, saltry air breeze from the sea with a hint of fumes from tire and trash buring nearby, the sights and warm embraces and wild sense of humor of my neighbors, friends, and colleagues – was incredible. It really helped me integrate my life as I knew it before November 2008 with this current Peruvian reality.

While walking home from a splendid visit at a neighborhouse one evening, it dawned on me, after living a year here how important and how integral all these people here have become to me, and even though I still have “un añito” (literally translated as “one little year”) left, how strong their presence will remain in me. But at the same time, after a touch from home rekindled feelings of disconnection with all those there – sentiments that are usually put on the backburner during the demanding and hectic Cristo Rey school year – I feel viciously torn between the desire to stay present here fully over the next year to all that arises and wanting to minimalize this disconnection and being out of touch with all my loved ones back home.