Futbol, Follies and...other things that don't start with F's

Last week was pretty amazing. I met all the leaders of organizations in Corral de Arena, had meetings with the director of the school and the mayor. I started exercising, convinced that I would start training for the Peace Corps marathon that is in May. I'd put on my ipod and take off. And I found throughout the week that Corral de Arena is a bit more groovy with a little Earth, Wind and Fire. I ran everyday and still managed to play futbol and volleyball with the boys and girls in my town. Playing sports was a good way to meet a lot of kids at the school. There's always a lot of laughing and whispering that comes along with playing with the kids. Gringos are funny things to them. We talk funny. And I really don't speak Spanish very well, so that's hilarious to them. I started reminding myself of how funny foreign accents and the way their expressions used to make me laugh in the States. So there is something fun about being that goofy person. Besides, adults are always ridiculous to kids (especially ones that work at the school). I remember all those teachers that I laughed at for being dorky or whatever, and how they made a difference in my life nonetheless. Even though I laughed at them, I cared what they thought. And those silly teachers made me who I am today.

There were a lot of futbol follies, afterall, I hadn't played soccer before Peru. Often I've kicked the ball to the other team. It's very impressive that these kids are so swift playing on sand. I got tuckered out pretty quick. One game, they kids had pretty much exhausted me when I stole the ball away from one girl and kicked the ball furiously for a goal with no one to stop me. I threw my hands up and screamed, “Goal!”. But all the girls were yelling, “no, no, no.” I asked them, “is Ericka on my team?” I pointed to the girl guarding the opposite goal.
“Yes.”
“Goal!”
“But Terraza,” said the girl I stole the ball from, “I'm on your team.”

I really enjoyed how I felt after running and the places I would run to, not necessarily the running itself. I'm used to running telling myself it'll end soon. But everyday it got a little more enjoyable, and I would think about where I wanted to end up. Each day the run stretched. I liked ending my run at the empty riverbank with the trees overhanging and the mountains in the distance. One day, I decided I would try to run to La Estancia – the neighboring town with a fellow volunteer. I didn't make it, but I ran further than I thought I could. It was pretty damn far for me. I run with a stick to fend off dogs who want to attack. And I run with these dogs in mind. And the thought of taking a road that had few to no people seemed like it could either be dangerous because of the lack of a presence or good because of the lack of dogs. But I jogged keenly aware of danger. I was listening to my ipod when I noticed dog tracks in the road and, at that very moment, I heard something behind me. So I swung around kick, swinging my stick to beat the dog. It was an old man on a bicycle. We both screamed and then laughed. I apologized through my laughter, explaining that I thought he was a dog. He ended up riding into town at the speed of my stroll while we talked.

I went to classes at the highschool and daycare/kindergarten. The youngest ones were the most fun. I was probably more of a disruption in the class than a help. We made a Christmas tree out of paper cut-outs of our hands. They figured out that I would act really upset if they covered my paper hands with scraps of paper. They would do it over and over again, laughing at how upset I would act. And this turned into all the kids running over to put scraps of paper on my heading while saying “Feliz Navidad”. Man, I love these kids. And my little brother is so darn cute, too. We play all kinds of silly games. We both get a kick out of the same silly games of face-making, wiggling, tickling and mimicking.

I went to our regional meeting feeling good about my week and came back inspired by other volunteers to do great things. The next day, I sat down and created a syllabus for the seven weeks of summer school I am going to be teaching. It's exciting. I've never had such a huge responsibility, teaching grades equal to first through twelth in the United States. And I thought really hard about how to make it fun and creative. We'll be painting a mural, putting on a puppet show, having a movie night fundraiser and doing all sorts of environmental activities.

I'm excited and scared that I'm gonna screw it up. I want to do so much for these kids. And yesterday, the overwhelming feeling of all of this responsibility came over me. I met the mayor that morning to visit his fields. He shares a parcel of land with 3 other families. They've built a well that runs off of electricity rather than a gas motor. This prevents water and air contamination and is the only well like it in Corral de Arena. His field (chacra) is also organic. I was so excited to know I can buy organic produce in Corral de Arena. He told me that he wants these fields to be a model for the rest of the farming community in Corral de Arena (which makes up 70 percent of the town). And he wants me to help find the funding to make this change. Also on the list of things to do in the next two years is to created small landfills for households, combat deforestation and implement a recycling program.

I went home feeling the pressure of all that is expected of me, all the hopes these people have about having a Peace Corps volunteer. And I didn't want to leave my room. I spent the rest of my day by myself, not wanting to even speak to my family. I just wanted to escape for a day, to not feel the pressure of it all. And that just made me feel worse. By that evening, I felt like a horrible volunteer. I tried to read my Bible to feel better and I kept coming across verses that just made me feel worse. There's that one story Jesus tells about the person who doesn't know when the thief is coming in the night, or else they would've been prepared. It freaked me out, the thought of seeing Jesus while I was feeling so unmotivated. Disconnected. Producing nothing of worth. And then I went out to do something and the moon was so bright it hurt my eyes. It was so bright it was impossible not to notice. It was as if, all of a sudden, the moon was a source of light. And I could feel God telling me simply that “He” cared for me. The message in that moment was unmistakably clear. And we just looked at one another for a moment, telling each other how much we cared for the other. I'd like to say that it helped me to stop being afraid, but I still didn't want Jesus to walk through that door, not that night.

The next day, I went to a going away meeting for a fellow volunteer, Sara Mascola. Sara Mascola was a super volunteer. She spent 3 years in Olmos and ended up coordinating a eco-efficiency program that connected 20 schools all around the area. She was one of the first persons mentioned when I came to my site. And it was inspiring to see so many people who wanted to show up and thank her for the work she's done. I told her that I hope that I'm just even a portion of the volunteer she's been. And she told me that during her first 3 months of service she read 80 books. She kept a list of them all. She would stay cooped-up in her room, not wanting to interact with anyone. She said that we need those days sometimes.