I find myself in my last month of service. I’m finished on April 19th 2008. I am not sure how to answer the question that I frequently ask myself “Am I glad I did this?” . I have learned very much, about myself and about humanity, and of course all this has me even more confused… the more you know the less you know. I experienced a lot more ugliness than I expected, on a lot of levels. But despite this I am satisfied because I know that this was something I had to do.
Reflecting on my daily life here in
Things I’ll miss:
- I have come to profoundly enjoy having little to no responsibility.
- Being able to show up at anyone’s house anytime, knowing I’ll be welcomed and served something yummy.
- EVERYONE knows my name.
- My PCV friends.
- Close knit family members that never get tired of each other.
- Community resourcefulness
- Sweet little women.
Things I won’t:
- Being lied to all the time.
- Being a single independent woman; this not being appreciated but rather seen as awkward.
- Dry season dust and rainy season mud.
- The long, rocky, winding dirt roads in and out of my site and the old, broken-down 1980 school buses that travel them.
- Handwashing my clothes.
- Bucket baths.
- Always being asked to regalar (give) whatever I happen to have.
- The most uncomfortable bed in the world – my bed.
- Men who disrespect women and teach their sons the same..
Now the real question: did I accomplish anything here? Well that depends. I really stopped worrying about working only about 6 months ago. It took over a year to shed that American outcome-oriented mentality. I didn't sigh up for Peace Corps to contribute to the development of another country; I always knew that would be an unlikely goal in 2 years. But I had ideas on what to do in my community on a small scale. I imagined people eagerly listening to me, sharing my visions, and investing their time and resources in reaching them. But maybe the real flaw has something to do with our own world dominant perspective on what is developed and what isn’t.
Maybe I made an impact, by showing my values to the friends I made. But I'm now just a memory for them, and will be added to the list of gringos that have come and went from San Miguelito, to be racked off to the next one, whoever he/she shall be. They’ll always remember Sarita, she never married a Honduran.