Serendipity, or How I Learned to Just Give Up: Jan 30, 2010

The last year of trying to get work started has felt like trying to find unicorns in Antarctica.  Who will listen to me?  Who will support my projects?  Who will take my ideas and run with them?  I’m not forming a hunting party in search of a magical beast, I just want your permission to throw trash in a hole.  After three months of getting the classic run-around as to who is responsible for constructing a trash hole, I discovered there was an existing hole on the school grounds.  How the school director failed to mention there already was a hole, after 16 visits from me, and posters describing the hole-digging process, is a mystery to me.  I came across it one afternoon when I took my Eco-Club outside to take pictures by the tree on the school grounds.  Look! A hole!  At that point, I was in too much shock at how much energy I wasted talking to the director, that I didn’t realize how close this existing hole brought me to the goal.  With the school year winding down, I couldn’t subject myself to one more false promise.  Even though I needed to obtain permission to use a classroom for summer school, I decided to deal with it after the holiday.  But who was I kidding?  I knew no one would be there upon my return from vacation in the states, and the realization of summer school was a long shot.  How would I ever find the director during summer vacation?  So I gave up.

     Traveling back to site requires several buses, combis, mototaxis, and colectivo taxis.  The last leg of the trip, the colectivo, can take anywhere from 10 minutes to several hours while waiting for the car to fill up with passengers.  When I arrived at the colectivo, there was only one person inside: the school director.  The chances of this occurring are small, and I smiled to myself as the mountain provided yet another serendipitous encounter.  (More on that next.)  After an hour of conversation, he told me to come by the next day to pick up the key for a classroom.  The next day, not only was I given the key, but I was allowed to pick a classroom with the best wall to paint a world map.  I was also given free reign of the school grounds, to plant trees and…drum roll please…throw trash in the hole!!  I would have never expected being so elated over garbage, but the amount of time and energy just getting to this point was hard-earned.  And ridiculous.

     Now I will return to the subject of serendipity.  I cannot count the number of times I have searched for someone for days on end, only to bump into them the moment after I stop looking for them.  When the president of the tourist association was impeached, I had no idea who would be the new one, or when the voting would take place.  Most of my work is with the tourist association, and not knowing who to talk to about projects put a real halt on my progress.  For two months, I asked the vice president, the board of directors, and association members about any information they knew.  Some names were thrown out, along with when there would be a new president and board of directors, but the answers were always different (which is not uncommon and I have come to accept it as how things are.)  So what did I do?  I gave up.  After living here for a year, I was slowly starting to understand that everything happens in its due time.  No matter how adamantly I want something to happen, I have to be patient and wait for the community to be ready.  Going to Lima for mid-service medical exams, I hailed a colectivo from my house and settled in for the ride down the mountain.  We picked up passengers along the way and they all chatted away in quechua.  I recognized one man as being in the tourist association, but I didn’t feel inclined to talk.  Remember, I had given up.  Of course he starts talking to me, since I’m pretty well-known and have been the only woman amongst 112 men at their meetings; I’m hard to miss.  I act cordially but don’t offer up any of my project ideas.  I’ve told them to so many people for the past year, with no takers, that I frankly don’t see a point as I’m heading to Lima.  After several minutes of inane conversation, he starts pressing me on how I can support them to improve their organization.  I take a deep breath and give him my schpiel.  I tell him about constructing a tree nursery of native species.  Using the results of the tourist survey I handed out over the tourist season, 95% said they would buy a tree to plant inside the national park.  The director of the park has already offered to donate a parcel of land to plant the trees.  I go on and on, waiting for his eyes to glaze over.  This time however, instead of getting lackluster nods, he seems authentically interested and wants to know more.  He tells me that as soon as I return to Cashapampa, find him in his house.  He gives me his name and tells me he is the new president.  Of course.

     A week later, I have just stepped out of the colectivo when a member of the tourist association walks down the street towards me to tell me there is a meeting tomorrow morning at 6am.  Well that’s great, except that I haven’t gone to the new Prez’s house to formally discuss the ideas I have.  The next morning, I sit up front in the only remaining seat.  It is 6:05am, and I’ve forgotten that these men are one of two entities in the entire country that are punctual.  The other being buses.

     I didn’t even recognize the new Prez, whom I was sitting next to, until an hour into the meeting when he stands up and asks me to present my tree nursery idea to the 112 members.  I can’t believe he remembered.  I talk briefly and sit down, then have my socks blown off as he says they are writing it into the Master Plan.  Once again, the workings of the mountain have surprised me and exceeded my expectations.  If I hadn’t taken that colectivo, that morning…if I hadn’t arrived at that moment to receive the message about the meeting…if I had arrived a day later and missed the meeting altogether…my idea would never have made it into the Master Plan.  The statistical probability of everything coming together is astounding, and all I can do now is sit back and wait for serendipity to happen again.  I must remember that I can’t force anything to happen up here on this mountain, but just give up and wait for it to happen in its due time.  I think I saw a unicorn winking at me from behind that bush over there.

Mad love goes out to all the teachers in the world: September 16, 2009

This afternoon was the first meeting of Club RAHU.  That meant I had to track down the key for a classroom.  This, of course, meant tracking down the director.  At 8:00am, I arrived prior to the director and most teachers.  While I waited for the director who never showed up, I had an amazing 30 minute conversation with the “truant officer.” He ended up helping me find a teacher willing to hand over his key for the afternoon.  Since it happened to be the same teacher as one of the grades I invited to join my club, he asked if I wanted the permission slips I handed out yesterday.  Sure.  How many could there be?  I announced the club with only one day’s notice.  I was afraid of no one showing up, but it just goes to show you never get what you expect.  Out of 15 students, 12 handed me back the permission slips.  Oh my god.  This was the smaller of the 2 classes.  The other class wasn’t there today because the teacher didn’t show up. [Substitute teachers don’t exist here.]

 

At 2:45pm, 15 minutes early, I arrived at the school to find 30 students waiting for me.

I had prepared an agenda of four items to cover. 

1. What is the club about & what do the students want to learn?

2. List of rules.  This included choosing a “magic word” to yell out when there is too much ruckus.  We decided on “elephant” because it is a loud animal.  We practiced a few times, and it worked surprisingly well.

3. Activity!!!  Earlier today, as I was thinking of what I had in the way of paper, I came across my mountain of manila envelopes that all Peace Corps correspondence comes in.  (Check out the before and after pics.)  I passed out all 30 pieces of paper which I had cut and hole-punched.  I couldn’t believe how many students showed up.  I had each student write their name, and leave space next to it.  Then I had each student draw their favorite animal. 

My personal favorites:

~The sections of animals.  We have the duck section, the cat section, and three elephants (one of which is a blatant copy of a well-done two-toned pink and blue elephant.)  

~Edward drew two ducks - one right side up and the other on its head.

~Clever was the only one to draw a dog.  I would’ve thought dogs would be more of a favorite.

~Evert’s sheep is pretty cool.

~I like Elizabeth and Santa’s bird things.

~Angel and Josep drew pretty sweet-looking cows.

~Thalia’s got a smiling fish going on.

~Theyson.  What the heck is that?  Whatever it is, I like it.

4. Photos of the class wearing their names.  This was the highlight of the meeting.  Except the timer never worked out.  What you’re not seeing in many photos is me running through the kids yelling, “Corre! Corre!”  (Run! Run!)  I never made it in time.

It turned out to be a great day, despite the fact I’m missing three markers.

Ready or not... September 15, 2009

It’s time.  Whether I’m ready for it or not, I’m jumping in.

After getting together in the capital to celebrate our one year anniversary in Peru, I returned to site with newfound energy.  I made fliers to distribute to the students in 4^thth grade of primary school.  Tomorrow I will hold the first after-school meeting of Club R.A.H.U.   [Props to my site-mate for coming up with the acronym, which means “mountain” in Quechua and in Spanish stands for “Red de Amigos de Huascarán,” which in English means “Network of friends of Huascarán” because we are located at the entrance for the Huascaran National Park.] and 5

The fliers weren’t perfect and I was tempted to revise them and push the start-date back another week.  But if I waited until everything was perfect, nothing would ever get done.  I found the teachers and asked if I could speak to their classes.  I talked about the club and said I hoped to see everyone tomorrow.  Jeez.  I hope someone shows up.  I hope the director gives me the key to a classroom.  I hope I don’t crash & burn in front of these kids.  What am I going to talk about?  I’ve never taken a class on teaching, and prior to last year, kids scared the crap out of me.

I was on my way home when I saw a woman collecting trash in the path to/from the school.  I asked if I could help, and ended up collecting a huge bag of trash until it was filled to the brim.  I walked with her all the way to the plaza and she said she’d be collecting trash around the school tomorrow if I wanted to help.  I told her I would be there in the morning helping in an English class, and would look for her afterwards.  I’m actually looking forward to picking up trash.

From the plaza, I went to the park entrance booth.  I asked how the tourist surveys were going, thinking that they were probably used as firewood or toilet paper in the week since I first left them there.  The control booth guy asked if I wanted him to get them.  So…they weren’t in the control booth.  Okay, don’t freak out – this was to be expected.  I say he doesn’t need to “get them” but I just want to know if any have been filled out.  He asks again if he can go get them.  Yes.  That may clear things up about their whereabouts.  He returns 5 minutes later with the bag I gave him a week ago.  I’m thinking that this bag has been untouched and chilling in someone’s house for a week.  I pull out the red folder and my jaw drops when I see there are 20 filled-out surveys inside.  He explains that some people want to fill them out, others no.  I can’t believe I left this task in the hands of someone else, and it is working!!  By then there is a small crowd peering in as I translate the results to Spanish.  I explain what projects we could work on based on the answers thus far.  There is little response for hiring llamas as pack animals instead of donkeys.  There has been a huge response to the idea of selling trees to the tourists to plant inside the park.  I give a little speech on business and marketing, realizing these guys have no concept of customer service.  Yet they are listening to me, and they seem to be absorbing and understanding what I’m saying.  Accommodate the customer, and business will improve.  Offer services the tourist is interested in, and money will flow into the community.  I didn’t bring up artisan products yet, but I plan on giving a whole spiel at the next meeting of the tourist association.  To know that thousands of tourists come through this small town every summer, and no one has thought about selling food or water or artisan products!  Unbelievable.  My biggest fear is that some outside party will swoop in and build a hotel or store, before I can motivate the community to do it.  My community is a huge untapped goldmine, and could easily be exploited.  As it already stands, vast amounts of income do not stay within the community.  The guides earn between $50-100 daily; they speak English and have been certified by the Casa de Guías which represents the Mountain Guide Association of Peru.  EVERY guide hired is from the capital 3 hours away.  NOT ONE guide comes from Cashapampa itself.  Compare this to the men I work with who earn $10 daily as donkey-drivers.  If Cashapampa isn’t the perfect example of needing to convert to eco-tourism, I don’t know what is.

Happy Birthday Mom!: September 9, 2009

The last three days proved typical.  There was no hole dug at the school, so I pleaded that they store the garbage until after the Anniversary, and DO NOT BURN IT in the meantime.  I offered to come in and explain garbage management to every student, class by class.  If I can convince the school to dig a hole, put garbage in it, and stop burning it, I will consider my two-year service to be a success.  That’s where I’m at.  I just want to see a hole.

Too Good to be True?...Yet to be Determined: September 7, 2009

My mother used to tell me, “Lower your expectations and you’ll never be disappointed.” 

With that in mind, I set out on another day of uncertainty which has become my life.  In this country, it’s not enough to lower your expectations; it is necessary to have zero  expectations.

I went to the school and found the director in the middle of making announcements regarding the events of the upcoming Anniversary.  He talked about proper attire according to the events of the week.  Wednesday = street clothes to play sports.  Thursday = school uniform to march in the parade.  Tomorrow (Tuesday) he wanted the kids to tell their parents about the mandatory work day.  Aha!  Although I knew he wasn’t about to make an announcement about digging a mini-landfill, I could stop by the parents meeting tomorrow and steal some parents to dig my hole.  I would take some parents with their tools!

After the announcements, I asked the director what the teachers had said about digging the hole.  He said it was fine.  Later today the maintenance guys would dig it.  I’m thinking, “Yeah, right.”  I tell him I will come back tomorrow, just in case.  If the hole’s not dug, I’ll steal those shovel-wielding parents.  Maybe there’s hope.

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I return to my house and see the bag of yet another failed project sitting on my table.  The tourist surveys.  The planning meeting for the surveys was five months ago.  The surveys were printed four months ago.  My site-mate and I tried to train the worker at the park entrance booth at that time.  He had NO idea what he was supposed to do with these papers we handed him.  We did some role-playing activities.  We explained how to hand out the surveys, then pretended we were tourists arriving in Cashapampa after our 4 day trek along the Santa Cruz trail.  He still had NO idea what he was supposed to do.  My site-mate yelled at him.  This guy was living up to the nickname we gave him, George McFly.  He was bumbling around and utterly confused.  He said he wasn’t sure he was allowed to do what we were asking him to do.  We explained that we worked on the surveys with the President and Board of Directors of the tourist association.   I felt bad for him, that he hadn’t had the access to education like we had, and couldn’t comprehend the instructions we were giving him.  He thought the surveys had something to do with something else entirely.  It was a frustrating experience, and we told him not to worry about it.  We would return another time when someone else was manning the booth. 

The next time I had enough energy to deal with the surveys again, I decided to do it in true development-work style.  I went to the president himself.  This time, I wasn’t messing around.  I arrived with clearly written instructions, clipboards with attached pens, extra pens, labeled folders, and a laminated paper to post in the entrance booth.  The laminated paper said in English & Spanish: “Please fill out the tourist satisfaction survey located in the park entrance booth.  Available in English & Spanish.”

The surveys were in the possession of the president for almost two months.  During this time, he was fired as president and took off to Lima.  In the meantime, I was in the Amazon thinking of the thousands of tourists coming through my town and how much data we would have for next year’s tourist season.  Boy was I wrong.

Upon my return to Cashapampa, I went to the entrance booth to see how many surveys had been filled out.  None, because no one knew anything about them and had never seen them.  I try to find the president, and found out that not only is he no longer the president, but has also taken off to Lima.  I ask his wife if the surveys are still inside the house after all this time, and she doesn’t know anything about them.  She was STANDING there when I handed the prez the bag and went over the instructions line by line.  Whatever.  I had other things to worry about.  [That was the week I was trying to find someone to bring to the PC workshop with me.]  More weeks go by, and I finally get the surveys back.  It is a miracle they are intact and the pens weren’t stolen.  Luckily or unluckily, depending on how you look at it, the surveys never left the bag which never left the house of the prez.

Which brings us to today.  I walk to the entrance booth with these damn surveys.  It is September 7 and we are very near the end of the tourist season.  I try not to think of it as a huge missed opportunity.  Instead, I think of my replacement volunteer and the work he/she has cut out for them.  ;)

Low expectations. Low expectations.  No expectations.  No expectations.

I arrive at the entrance booth.  The man greets me by name as he’s registering a group of tourists.  Although he is busy getting change and registering tourists, he asks what he can do for me.  I explain the surveys.  I post the laminated sign.  He reads the Spanish version of the survey.  “Sure,” he says.  Just to make sure he understands, he repeats what he is supposed to do, without my asking him to do so.  “Have the tourist fill it out and leave it in the red folder.  Replacement surveys are in folders marked English or Spanish.  Any questions, I’ll find you in your house.”  He double-checks who I live with.  I tell him I’ll come back in a few days to see how it’s going.  I walk away, thinking maybe there’s hope.

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Almost to my house, and a community member flags me down.  He asks about “Recliclaje.”  I don’t know if he’s referring to recycling, trash in general, or the municipal landfill in my site-mate’s town.  We chat for quite a while, about the trash, trash collection, and his wanting me to give a community talk about separating garbage.  Oh my god.  Really?  This is fortuitous.  I tell him I am currently working with the municipality, the mayor, the techs and engineer that work in the landfill, and we’re coordinating the whole garbage management thing, and I’m planning on going from town to town to explain garbage separation & pickup.  I told him that as soon as I know anything more, I will let him know. 

Upon reaching my house, it is barely 10am and I have had an unexpected productive day.

I wonder if it’s all too good to be true.  When I see physical results, I’ll believe.  Until then, my success is yet to be determined.

Untitled: September 3, 2009

Yesterday was Wednesday.  Wednesdays I go to the school to help a high school teacher with her English class.  What this “help” actually translates to is her disappearance while I teach her class for an hour and a half, without having the actual authority or language skills to make her students pay attention to me.  This also has to do with the course material, which is dense and boring and way over the heads of these kids.  It’s not their fault their teacher can’t speak English.  It’s the school system.  Why have English as part of the national curriculum if there are no teachers to teach it?  Part of me is tempted to just take over completely.  One Wednesday a few months ago, the teacher didn’t show up.  The school director told me to teach the class.  I began by asking what they already knew and what they wanted to learn.  We settled on colors.  After a lesson on colors, we played a game.  The class was divided in half into two teams.  One player had to come up from each team and write the color in English that I yelled out in Spanish.  There was an English word bank they could refer to, but they had to be quick and write the word faster than their opponent.  When I returned the next week, I brought cookies for the winning team.  We played this game another time with fruits and vegetables.  That time, I yelled out the food in English and they had to draw it.  They really got a kick out of “peach” because the word for pee in Quechua is “pichi.” 

After an almost two-month absence from school (because of the holidays & class cancellations due to the swine flu scare), I returned to school yesterday.  I taught the class while the teacher disappeared for an hour and a half.  Afterwards, as I was trying to track down the director to tell him about the ECO-Club I’m starting, I was asked to sign a document stating I would attend the teacher’s meeting at 12pm that day.  I thought it would be a great opportunity to spread the word about the ECO-Club, so I returned at 12pm.  The elementary school teachers that I needed to talk to weren’t there, so I didn’t get a chance to talk about the club.  I did, however, volunteer for the “Caldo de Cabeza” committee.  You will realize that “Head Soup” is my least favorite food in the world.  And I’ve eaten huge fried ants, fish heads, and chicken feet.  How this volunteerism occurred is a long story, but has a lot to do with the lack of participation by the teachers.  The meeting was to plan the logistics of next week’s school Anniversary.

The meeting went something like this:

The school director was finishing up a meeting with the equivalent of the Parent/Teacher Association.  Except instead of it being Parents & Teachers, it is just the Parents.  The parents were yelling at the director, presumably after spending the morning fixing up the school in a mandatory work day, or face a fine.  These people are poor.  The majority showed up to haul rocks and cement walls, to avoid the fine they can’t afford to pay.  They must be getting hungry, so they start to trickle away by 12:30pm.  The director tells the teachers, who have been congregating in the courtyard, to enter the room to start the meeting.  Twenty minutes later, 12 of the 23 teachers are inside.  Another 10 minutes of shuffling papers and piddling around, and the director begins the meeting in record time.  Only one hour behind schedule.  That is amazing.  They start going over the food, budget, and necessary committees.  Who’s going to buy the food, what are the ingredients, how much food is needed, who will prepare the food, who will serve the food, etc.

Out of the 12 teachers who actually showed up, no one wants to sign up for any of the committees.  This is painful to be a part of.  One teacher brings up an obvious point: That only 12 out of the 23 teachers are signing up.  Yes!  Someone understands!  I make a suggestion.  I say that where I come from, if we are forming committees, we make lists of the committees and leave open slots for each committee.  Ideally, there would be 23 tasks divided into however many committees there are.  This way, everyone has to sign up for something, whether you’re at the meeting or not.  This also rewards the people who are present, because they get first dibs on the committees they want to be on. 

This advice falls on deaf ears.  The director tells me they have a list.  They are writing down the names as people volunteer themselves to a task.  He’s not getting it.  No one’s volunteering, and on top of that, they keep coming up with new committees.  One week before this huge event, and they don’t even know how many people they need for each committee, because they don’t even know how many committees are needed.  Somewhere in the confusion of the meeting, I volunteer to “support” the cooking team.  I end up being the only one on the committee.  I say that I will not cook head soup alone because I am not from Peru and don’t know how to cook it.  I repeat that I will help, but not do it alone.  After much discussion, and teachers volunteer each other rather than themselves, and there are 4 more people, including men who I’m SURE do not know how to cook.  They are arguing, because someone else volunteered them, and the director suggests the men enlist the help of their wives to come in and cook.  My god, is this really happening?

This goes on for 3 hours.  They keep adding tasks such as, “Oh, what about prizes for the winning soccer team?”  “Oh hey, we forgot about food for the band.”  And my favorite… “Hey, do we have a band?” 

I leave the meeting in a stupor.  I got two different answers about when I need to be there to cook the soup.  As we are walking up the steep, rocky footpath towards the main road, I ask about how they will collect the vast amounts of trash produced by the disposable plates, cups, and cutlery.  They ask me what I mean by collect it.  You know—Haul it away, take it to the main road, carry the cylinders up the hill.  By donkey?  They laugh.  Haha, a donkey.  Why is this a difficult question?  I re-phrase the question.  WHAT do you do with the trash collected in the schools’ cylinders?  The answer: We burn it.

As an Environmental Education volunteer, it is hard for me to hear that they burn trash in the school, when there is a fully functioning municipal landfill with collection twice a week.  All they need to do is haul it up the hill.  All they need to do is bury it in a mini-landfill.  All they need to do is CARE a little bit about ANYTHING beyond planning yet another party that detracts from the actual point of a school—education.

Seeing this as an opportunity rather than a quandary, I return to the school the next day with presentation in hand.  I implore the director to build a mini-landfill.  One class can get it done in an hour.  It won’t cost anything.  He leads me outside as we search for the groundskeeper who is in charge of burning the trash.  The groundskeeper looks frazzled.  He shows the director the broken pvc-pipe he is fixing, and lists all the other projects he is working on.  He doesn’t care about the girl who shows up and orders him to dig a hole.  I tell the director, in front of the groundskeeper, that we need to find a teacher and class to dig the hole.  Not the groundskeeper himself.  All the groundskeeper needs to do is throw the trash in the hole and put dirt on top, and NOT BURN IT!  Back in the director’s office, I hang up the poster I drew about how to dig a mini-landfill.  1 meter by 1 meter by 2 meters in depth.  Not rocket science here.  It’s a hole.  You fill it with trash, then dirt, then plant a tree if so inclined.

I leave a note to the teachers explaining the importance of respecting the environment; stating that I will return at 8:00am Monday morning to help dig the hole.  I tell the director that in the meantime, please find a teacher willing to help.  In my mind, I know I’m talking to a brick wall.  He just doesn’t understand that it is HIS responsibility to get this hole dug.  No teacher will willingly volunteer their class and time when they have other things to get done before the Anniversary. 

Once again, I walk home with my tail between my legs.  How do I change custom?  How do I change mentality?  How do I make someone CARE about something they don’t care about?  How do I CONVINCE someone to care about something they don’t care about?  Where is it even my place to push my dogma on someone else?

Humble Beginnings: September 1, 2009

Since the last entry, the frustrating circumstances of my life are taking baby steps in the right direction.

~I am finally over the flu/sinus infection, head-cold, and raging headaches.

~The table arrived one morning while I was eating breakfast and had completely given up on ever receiving it.  It did not fit through the door as anticipated, but my host parents swapped it out for their smaller kitchen table.  With my books and paperwork organized for the first time in 10 months, I feel like a normal person again.

~One of the men who couldn’t come with me to the PC conference bumped into me and asked me to come to a 6am meeting.  Okay.  I am here for the community even though you are not here for me or my organization.  Even though my program is Environmental Education and you are asking me to attend a meeting about building a health post.  Yes, I’ll be there.  At 6:05am, I was the ONLY one there.  Surprise, Surprise.  I sit and wait in the cold and without breakfast, but am in much better spirits since ditching the flu.  By 7am, there is a small crowd of 15 people.  I end up writing up the official minutes for the meeting, and I feel important and wanted in my community (two things I have felt have been missing for quite some time—see previous blog entry.)  People were thanking me for being there, and as I walked home, I realized just how many people know my name and wanted to know where I was going so early in the morning, and what I was doing later, and will I be at the afternoon’s soccer game?  Which leads to…

~I played soccer for the first time today in over 10 years.  High altitude soccer.  Even though I trained for the marathon at altitude, it’s nothing compared to sprinting after a ball for 2 hours.  We played men versus women.  Luckily we had one guy on our team and he was really good, yelling instructions at the girls and giving tons of positive reinforcement.  We won 6-2, even though the men were much more skilled and one of the women scored a goal on ourselves.  (No, it wasn’t me, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been.)  The women are real cute, playing in their traditional skirts.  The woman with the baby on her back wasn’t there today, but in previous games, she’d run around with her baby bouncing around in the blanket tied to her back.  It’s amazing how much weight one can carry with a blanket tied around your back.  Speaking of which…

~I carried huge bags of compost on my back, from my site-mate’s tree nursery, to my  I had to do it in four trips.  Each one must have been 50 pounds.  I am beginning my mission of re-introducing native tree species to the Andes mountains.  I spent hours over the course of several days filling little baggies with the soil mixture I prepared with the compost I hauled.  Next, I will soak the seeds to get them germinating, and hopefully get them growing and in the ground by December.  Although I started the task solo, a little helper came to investigate what I was doing and ended up helping me to not only fill the baggies, but sift the dirt to remove the rocks.  When we had finished with our pile of dirt, she ran to the pile to sift more.  I kept trying to explain that we were done, but she wanted to keep going.  Background information on this little girl:  I think she’s my host mom’s little sister.  She doesn’t go to school, and therefore never really learned Spanish.  I once asked her why she didn’t go to school, and her cousin told me she has “brain problems,” so she stays home and takes care of the animals, whatever that means.  When I arrived in Cashapampa in December, she was my least favorite person.  Now I’m starting to think she has a developmental disability.  Although I have extensive experience in this field, there was something about her lack of respect for people’s space that really got to me.  For instance, one day I was outside reading a book.  She thought it funny to throw dirt at me.  I told her that if she continued, I would go inside.  Then she splashed water on me.  I went inside and thought she was a lost cause, since I couldn’t even communicate with her.  Now, 10 months later, she screams my name and giggles and runs around in excitement when she sees me.  And today, she was the first person to help me in stage one of reforesting the community. She was rattling away in Quechua and smiling at me, asking if she could take pictures of our progress. community tree nursery.

~And there you have it.  In one day—I participated in a community meeting, worked in the tree nursery, received surprise help from an unlikely source, played soccer on the winning team, ate three square meals, prepared a lesson for my first class to be held next week, and played with my bunnies.

Oh yeah, my host parents bought me pet bunnies for my birthday. 
They thought I needed something to take care of, since I don't have children.