The Saga of the Cuesta del Aire Computer Lab

I realize that in the last post I didn’t talk about my project at all.  This is because the project deserves it’s own story.

The current computing situation in Cuesta del Aire...  the
room floods on a daily basis during the rainy season

Almost a year ago, I attended a workshop on project design and management.  Although I had no plans of completing an infrastructure project during my service, Ricardo, the director of my school in Cuesta del Aire, told me he really wanted a computer lab in his school.  He took the initiative to start organizing the community around this idea.  I agreed to take on the project as long as it remained sustainable – i.e. as long as I didn’t end up doing all the work.  I wanted high levels of community involvement.  I wanted to see that the students and parents from this school saw the importance of having a computer lab and were willing to lend a hand in the planning and execution of the project.  I also wanted to project to address the litter problem in the community.  For this reason, we decided to build the school using eco-bricks, which are 20-ounce plastic soda bottles filled with clean inorganic trash.  These bottles are tied to chicken wire and line the interior parts of the walls.  They are covered with a layer of cement, and the walls end up looking like any other cement building.

Students from Chiventur with their eco-bricks

My students teaching recycling classes

Ricardo and the community of Cuesta del Aire exceeded my expectations as far as their level of participation.  I trained the students in how to give recycling lessons, and they went into the local primary schools to teach the children how to recycle and how to fill eco-bricks.  The children made their eco-bricks and turned them in.  Two kids from each primary school won backpacks full of school supplies, donated by my friends and family.  At the same time, I worked tirelessly with Ricardo and the parents’ committee to write out a plan and a budget, and we began sending funding applications to various organizations.  By September, we were ready to turn in our last funding application to Peace Corps.  This money would come from USAID and would cover the last $5,000 of the project.  We already had monetary and material donations secured from the municipality, the parents from the school, community members living in the United States, a large cement company, an international organization that would be buying our computers, and another organization that would be selling us low-price refurbished computers.

Our stash of eco-bricks in the back of the 9th grade classroom

I called the Peace Corps staff member that works on the Small Grants Committee to ask him some final questions before sending everything in, and he told me that, due to funding changes, if I wanted my project to be approved, I would have to add a water catchment system to the roof so that the project could fall within the “adaptation” funding category.  Although there are no water issues in this community, and the water catchment system would add about $1,000 to the price of the project, I worked with a local organization to add this into the original project plan.  Because of this, I missed the deadline to turn in my paperwork, and had to wait until January for the next submission deadline.

At the beginning of December, I turned all the paperwork in to Peace Corps in the hopes of getting a head start.  And then I found out I was getting a site change.  I did not want the project to fall through just because I was no longer in the community.  I spoke with my sitemate who was still in Chiva and asked him to take on the project.  I told him that I would remain part of the project, but that he would need to be the principal volunteer, since Peace Corps requires that the volunteer be living in the site where the project is taking place.  He agreed and I was able to talk Peace Corps into accepting this change.

Then I got a call from Peace Corps saying they needed to talk to me about the project.  I spoke with the Director of Programming and Training (DPT) and he told me that it seemed to him like the water catchment system was not really a necessity in that community.  I told him that, honestly, it wasn’t.  This was a youth project, not a water project, and I only added the system on because I had been told it was the only way I would get funding.  The DPT told me that he had looked into it, and had found some youth funding for me, so I could get rid of the water catchment system, which was just a big waste of money.  I was blown away.  Here I was, being told that the extra work and the extra three months of waiting to turn in my application were a complete waste.  On top of that, if I could have turned in my paperwork in September, which I was originally prepared to do, the project would have been underway by the time I got pulled out of my site, which means it would have gone forward.

Regardless, I held my tongue and agreed to take out the water catchment system and turn in the revised application the next day.  Then, about a week later, I got a call from Peace Corps saying that the volunteer that had taken on the project for me had been really flaky and unresponsive with them, and that they just couldn’t approve the project.  I was floored.  Just like that, 7 months of hard work would be washed away.  As I was trying to take in what I had just been told, I had an idea.  There is an organization called Hug-it-Forward that builds bottle schools and has a bunch of projects going on in my new site, San Martín.  I called my friend Gerson that works for HiF and asked him if we could meet.  I planned to ask him if they could fill the $5,000 funding gap that Peace Corps had left.  He told me that he was actually in San Martín at the ribbon-cutting ceremony of a recently finished project, and invited me to meet him for lunch.

I met him and his co-worker, Heenal, and explained my situation.  They felt for me, but explained that they only build new schools, not additions or computer labs.  I told them thanks anyway and started to think of where else I could look.  During our lunchtime conversation, I noticed that there was a group of five American women at another table in the restaurant.  I figured that these women were with Gerson and Heenal, so I asked who they were.  They told me that two of the women were from an organization called Miracles in Action, and that they had come for the inauguration of the new school.  The other three were the donors that had paid for the school.  I met Gerson’s eyes with a “can I pitch my project to them?” sort of look, and he smiled and nodded.

With my masons during their eco-brick construction training

I sat down with Christie, the Executive director of Miracles in Action and pitched the project.  “So you mean to tell me that this project is ready to go, and all you need is $5,000 cash to make it happen?”  “Yep.”  “Oh, we can probably do that.”  And just like that, the ball was rolling again.  I sent her the project plan and budget, and within a few weeks, the project was approved and I was ready to move forward.  Miracles in Action also paid for me to bring my two masons from Cuesta del Aire to San Martín so that they could be trained by some local experts in eco-brick construction.

Unfortunately, the organization that was going to fund the computers pulled out because they were uncomfortable with the change of funding.  At this point, I was unwilling to give up on any part of this project.  I called a family friend who is designing a new operating system and asked him if he would donate the computers.  I told him we could put his new operating system on the computers and get the students to give feedback.  He agreed, and once again, we had computers.

So now, after 10 months of stubbornly refusing to let this project die, we are starting construction this week, and it’s possible that the whole project will be done by the time I leave the country in June!  Although this was one of the more stressful experiences of my service, I’m very proud of myself for sticking with it.  I have also gained some important project management skills that will serve me well into my future.

Keeping Busy

8 weeks.  I have 8 weeks left in my service.  Actually I have less than that.  I have 52 days.  Each day in San Martín seems to fly by even faster than the last.  I’m so busy here I don’t even know where to start.  As I explained in my last post, I’m primarily working with 26 community-based youth groups.  Once a month, I give a leadership and teamwork training to one or two members from each group, and then they go back to their communities to replicate the training I gave them.  I’m doing the same thing with recycled arts and crafts.

 

Giving a training to some of my youth leaders.

Working on recycled arts and crafts.

One of the purses we're making using recycled materials.

I’ve also been training some of my more active youth leaders in how to teach self-esteem lessons in the primary schools, and I’ve collaborated with three local primary schools that are allowing my youth leaders to teach these lessons one day each month.  In the middle schools, my counterpart, Briyi, and I are teaching lessons on alcoholism and drug addiction.  All in all, we are working with over 800 primary and middle school students in addition to the members of the youth groups.

Some of my middle school students presenting their poster on
how to say no when someone offers you drugs

One of my youth leaders giving a self-esteem lesson to primary students

This month, I also started working with an organization called CONALFA.  This organization gives free adult literacy classes in most of the rural communities of San Martín.  They invited Briyi and I to give some trainings to the literacy coaches, and we gladly accepted.  It’s been fun to work with this group of young adults, most of whom are aspiring teachers.

CONALFA literacy coaches during a training

I’ve also been helping out with an eco-tourism project.  I’ve visited five tourism sites in San Martín, and I’m helping the municipality to develop ideas on how to promote tourism in the community.  I’ve been giving them a foreigner’s perspective and translating website information into English.

Visiting Mixco Viejo, the Mayan ruins in San Martin

In May, we’re planning two large activities.  First, we’ll be holding a full-day HIV/AIDS training.  We’re inviting 2-3 young men and women from each youth group to receive this training, with the hopes of them being able to assess the need in their communities for future trainings of this type.  The municipality will be donating lunches and snacks, so we won’t need to solicit any outside funding.  We’ll also be training ten youth leaders to help us out with various activities during the day.  About a week later, we’ll be holding a youth talent festival.  San Martín youth will be able to sing, dance, act, and display any artwork or handicrafts.  Prizes will be given to the top contestants in each category.

I’ve also been hard at work revising sections of the various manuals we work with in my project.  As a member of the Project Advisory Committee and the Curriculum Committee, I’ve been charged with helping to prepare the documents for the next incoming group of new volunteers, set to arrive in country in June.  We just finished our revisions, and I formatted and sent the documents off to the language department to be edited last week.

I also have a TON of reports to write up and turn in to Peace Corps before June 14^th, which is my COS (Close of Service) date.  These will keep me busy once they are sent to me within the next couple of weeks.

As a side note, I got into Harvard, Georgetown, the University of Southern California, and the University of Washington.  In all I got into five of the six programs I applied to.  I’ve decided that I’ll attend Georgetown, starting in the fall of 2014.  In the meanwhile, I’m going to go back to Seattle for a year, find a job, and spend some quality time with my family and friends.

Trying Again

From the day I applied to the Peace Corps, I had an idealized vision of what it meant to be a Peace Corps Volunteer.  I saw myself living in a mud hut in Africa.  No electricity, no running water, no phone, no internet, no facebook.  It would be a journey of self-discovery, one that would turn me into a better person.

The first shock came when I found out that Peace Corps was sending me to Guatemala.  I wondered how I could really disconnect myself from the outside world while living so close to home.  Then I found out that volunteers in Guatemala are given cell phones.  And that most have internet access at their houses.  And just like that, my dreams of a simpler life were washed away.

When I received my first site, I was excited that Peace Corps had chosen to give me a more rural, isolated site.  While Comitancillo wasn’t Sub-Saharan Africa, it was a community where need was prevalent, and I felt at least a little bit disconnected from the United States.  Except that I wasn’t.  I skyped with friends and family almost every night.  I was on facebook, e-mail, pinterest, among others.  I began to feel bogged down by my own connectivity.  All I kept thinking was, “this isn’t really Peace Corps.  I should be reading a book by candlelight, not downloading movies to watch on my laptop.  I should be cooking over an open flame, not baking cookies in my oven.”

Slowly, I became accustomed to the idea that my Peace Corps experience would be defined by different things than I had originally expected.  I realized that Peace Corps did not have to be some otherworldly experience that was completely disconnected from the reality I grew up in.  While it wasn’t what I had dreamed about or hoped for, I began to love my work and my life in Guatemala.  I formed a new idealized vision of what my Peace Corps service would look like.  I made plans for completing the rest of my two years in Comitancillo.

And then, that idealized vision, like the one before it, came crashing down.  In February I was evacuated from Comitancillo and reassigned to Aldea Chivarreto.  I was heartbroken, to say the least.  I was being pulled out of my isolated rural dreamland and thrown into a community only 1 ½ hours outside the second biggest city in Guatemala.  A community that has such a large population living in the US that I regularly found myself having conversations with people in English.  I think I cried for about a week.

I jumped into my work in Chivarreto, hoping to find the same happiness I found in Comitancillo.  Unfortunately, Chiva wasn’t Comi, and I had to adjust my expectations for the rest of my service.  I didn’t love my new site, but I tirelessly worked to plan and execute a large career fair and at the same time worked hard with my schools to implement the Youth in Development curriculum.  After receiving a training on project design and management, I threw myself into a large infrastructure project in my favorite school.  Working hand-in-hand with the director, we planned an ecologically friendly computer lab that would greatly benefit the youth of this poor community.  I was happy to have something meaningful to focus on.  Once again, I was working on something that would really define my service.

And then a crazy guy broke into my sitemate’s house and trashed the place.  And once again my Peace Corps experience came screeching to a halt.  After Christopher came to spend Thanksgiving with me, Peace Corps told me to stick around the office for a while instead of going back to site.  A few days later, they told me they were evacuating me from Chiva because it had been deemed “unsafe for female volunteers.”  I found myself facing the challenge of starting over yet again, with only six months left to achieve anything.  Peace Corps offered me Interrupted Service, which was basically an easy out.  I could have gone home with the full honors of a volunteer that completed their full term.  Walked away. Washed my hands of it all.  Quit.  I just couldn’t do it.  I felt like I hadn’t yet given all I had to give.  I knew I would regret it if I didn’t complete my full term.  Around this time, a friend of mine, Matt Dalio, sent me an e-mail with the following quote:

“Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow.”

Mary Anne Radmacher -

And so I decided to try again.

And so, this was the beginning of a three-week stint living in the hotel near the Peace Corps office.  I was lucky enough to be able to take private Spanish classes and get some much-needed quiet time to work on my graduate school applications.  During this time, my project manager, Rocío, gave me some options for a new site and invited me to come visit the various communities.  After a few site visits, I made up my mind: I would complete the last six months of my service in San Martín Jilotepeque, Chimaltenango.

I was not sad about leaving Chiva, but I was heartbroken about the prospect of losing the computer lab project in Cuesta del Aire.  After a number of meetings with Rocío and other Peace Corps staff members, I convinced them to let me continue my project, while signing Rich (my former sitemate still living in Chiva) on as the project lead.  We finished all the paperwork to solicit the final funding from USAID on Thursday last week, and now we’re waiting for the decision of the Small Grants Committee.

At the same time, I moved to San Martín on December 20^th and jumped into my new job placement working with the Oficina Municipal de la Juventud (Municipal Youth Office).  This office has formed 26 youth leadership groups in the rural communities of San Martín.  They train these youths in topics similar to the topics I had been teaching in the middle schools – Self-esteem, goals, careers, leadership, sexuality, drug and alcohol use, violence, etc.  I was assigned to this office to support them in the development of certain trainings and projects, while also learning about their work model, which Peace Corps is interested in replicating in other sites in the future.

Horseback riding with my new counterpart, Briyi

As difficult as it was to change sites again, I really love San Martín.  I moved in with a 93-year-old woman who is basically the Guatemalan version of Charlotte (my grandmother).  She is super active, caring, and smart.  She reads the newspaper every day and we’ve had some really interesting conversations.  Her granddaughter, great-granddaughter and great-grandson also live in the house with us.  It’s a really nice house, with a hot shower and lots of creature comforts.  San Martín itself is very nice.  It has a warm climate, which I had missed out on in Comi and Chiva.  I live right in the center of town and can buy almost anything I need without walking more than a few blocks.  I’ve been able to run a lot here, and there’s even a track – albeit a paved one – at the soccer stadium.  I’m also less than 1 ½ hours from Antigua, which is pretty nice.

My new bedroom.  Complete with fake fireplace

My life here feels less like Peace Corps than ever before.  I’m working 8-hour days, mostly in an office (with wi-fi!), running and taking a hot shower every day, and eating almost like I did in the states.  I recently started thinking again about my initial idealized vision of what Peace Corps would be, and how it has changed.  Over the past couple of weeks, I have formed a new idealized vision of Peace Corps service: Your service is what you make of it.  Regardless of the house you live in, or the office, school, or fields you work in, you have been sent to make a difference in a community that needs your help.  You can have a cell phone, computer, hot shower and warm bed, and still be a “real” Peace Corps Volunteer.  If you don’t get to complete your service in one site, see it as an opportunity to touch the lives of even more people.  I am a real Peace Corps Volunteer, three times over.  I have done meaningful work in two communities, and am beginning to do so in yet another.  At the end of every day of my Peace Corps service, I tell myself that I’ll try again tomorrow.  Because that’s why I came here.

I honestly can't think of a caption for this one...  Make one up!

"Custom"

Helpless.  At the moment, this is the only word I can find to describe the way I feel.  I just saw, first hand, why Guatemala is losing its struggle to overcome the rampant poverty that plagues the lives of so many of its citizens.

The past few days have been very busy.  The teacher workshop I’m leading tomorrow afternoon will finish off a week that included two teacher workshops, a parent workshop, a day of teaching classes in one of my schools, a half-day meeting with the departmental ministry of education, and a full-fledged battle with Peace Corps to get them to allow me to continue living in my house.  As I was finishing preparing for tomorrow’s workshop, Saturnina (my host mom) came into my room and told me that Juana, her 13-year-old niece, didn’t return home from school today.  She then informed me that Juana had run off to her boyfriend’s house, and that the two of them had decided to marry.  Juana’s parents apparently said that their daughter made her decision, and that there was nothing that they could do about it.  After talking to Satu about this for 10 minutes or so, she asked me to go talk to the parents.  So, at 10PM, I called my sitemate Rachael and asked her to accompany me on my quest to talk some sense into the parents. 

We arrived at the house, and after exchanging the customary Guatemalan pleasantries, I got right to the point.  I explained to them that Juana is still a child, and that, physiologically, she does not yet have the capacity to make this kind of a decision.  I explained to them that it would be years before her brain is fully developed, and that in this situation; they need to make this decision for her.  I also explained that many adolescents and teenagers are rebellious, and that their parents need to set rules and limits to protect their children from making mistakes that they will regret later on.  Finally, I added on the fact that, if she goes through with this marriage, she will be a mother in 9 months, before she even turns 14.  I explained that this is dangerous, and that her body is not ready to bear a child.  At that point, I was so close to breaking into tears that I had to pass the torch on to Rachael. 

Rachael went on to explain to them that it is their responsibility, as parents, to go and bring Juana home.  She emphasized my point that this girl is still a child, and is not prepared to make these decisions.  Juana’s uncle, who was also present, cut in to explain that, he understands where we’re coming from, but this is Guatemala, not the United States, and the customs here are different.  He also said that there have been cases where, after the parents go to bring their daughter home, the family of the boyfriend has the daughter killed.  I had never heard of this, and obviously needed to take this new information into account, but neither Rachael nor I could sit and listen to the same old excuse: “this is the custom here.” 

Guatemalans always talk about how awful the poverty is in their country.  “¿Cómo vamos a salir de la pobreza?” (direct translation: how are we going to leave from the poverty?).  They want to see a change, but they don’t see a way out.  And then, in walks a situation that gives them an opportunity to make a change, and they don’t take it.  Instead, they blame the problem on the local customs, and continue to feed into the cycle of poverty.  They want to see a change, but they don’t want to be the ones making the changes.

“Times have changed,” I told Juana’s father, “girls are marrying later because more girls are studying.  This is your opportunity to make a decision that will have a positive effect on the future of this country.”  He smiled and nodded, but clearly had no intention of changing his mind. “Girls who study,” I continued, “wait longer to marry and wait longer to have children.  When they do have children, they are healthier and more likely to study as much as, if not more than, their parents did.” 

I could tell at this point that Rachael was fuming.  She continued to press the issue with the father, while I tried to hold back the tears as I watched Juana’s grandmother begin to cry.  Rachael asked Juana’s mother what she thought.  The mother responded, very quietly, that Juana had made the decision to go, and there was nothing to be done.  It was clear that she was following what her husband said, but did not believe in what she was saying.

At this point, I broke back in and explained that it had become clear to me that they were not going to change their minds, especially if they were worried about the prospect of the family of the boy killing their daughter.  “You have to promise me two things.” I said, “When the boy’s parents come to see you tomorrow, you need to demand that your daughter goes to the health post and starts birth control.  Also, she needs to keep studying.  At this point, any hope of her being a professional may be out the window, but if she continues studying, she can at least learn how to better care for her children and manage a household budget, among other things.”

“On this point, I agree with you,” said her father, “and we’ll talk about this with the boy’s parents tomorrow.” 

Rachael made one more effort to get them to go bring their daughter home, but, at this point, it was a lost cause.  I told them that I appreciated that they had listened to us, and that, if Juana wants, I’d love to talk to her.  They thanked Rachel and I, and we headed home. 

Realistically, I can’t become more involved in this situation, because it could jeopardize my position in the community.  I’ll just have to wait and see what happens.  Just yesterday, I was joking around and laughing with Juana, without the slightest notion of what was going through her head.  If only I had known, I can’t help thinking; maybe I could have said something to keep her from running off today.

I wish more than anything there was something I could do.  I feel completely helpless.