Today, and its story

Today I painted, danced, laughed and listened. That's the short story.

The long story went like this: I woke up in my own bed, freshly returned from my first In-Service Peace Corps Training (3 months into service), unsure of what to do with my day, after re-grounding with other volunteers and discussing our experiences. Feeling a little bit overwhelmed from all the ideas I accumulated at training, frustrated that not much has been done at my site thus far, defeated by adversities of international development work, and just completely unsure of where to start all over again, I went for a hike to clear my head. The early morning air was fresh, slightly warm, and rich with untainted mountainous fragrances. The Costa Rican fauna (the area I live in is well-known for bird-watching) was strongly resonant high above me in the trees. And my body and soul were happy - happy to be moving, alive, and right where I was, despite my feeling of lack of purpose.

Shortly upon arriving at home, the unmentionable happened - a youth from my town texted me (yes, I have a cell phone) asking if today she could help paint a world map mural we are working on at the school. Sounds so simple, but I was overcome with excitement and humbled that someone wanted to help me and sought me out to ask. Peace Corps work is difficult for this very reason...oftentimes I feel I am begging people to help me in projects, or having a hard time motivating them to realize their own projects. Apathy is plentiful in these parts. But I was so touched that this one youth cared enough to offer her help on a project that has been on hold for awhile because I was away at training. So it was, I had a purpose for the day (in Peace Corps doing one productive thing per day is considered successful). I would meet her (and her younger sister) at the school and we would begin painting the background ocean color for our 4x8 meter map. Taking up most of the afternoon, the painting led right into my dance lesson. Yes, that's right, I'm in dance. Okay, let's not say I'm in dance - more accurate is that I am learning a traditional Costa Rican dance to perform at my site's Independence Day festivity September 14th (the actual day is the 15th, but festivities begin the night before). I'm prepared for the whole town to silently chuckle at the gringa dancing baile típico donned in full traditional Costa Rican garb. But I can't help chuckle myself! Well, when in Rome....

Then later, I realized something important...though I felt like I had no purpose today whatsoever, as I found myself sitting in the salon comunal (community center) with a woman with nothing around us but the two chairs beneath our bodies, I realized I did have a purpose - I was there to listen. This woman sought me out to ask me a question. She began telling her story of her son who has lived in New Jersey illegally for the past fourteen years. He recently discovered a cancerous tumor on his leg, and has had a hard time receiving sufficient medical treatment...specialist treatment, more accurately. The woman broke out in tears as she retold the fresh news of her son to me. Due to his specific situation, receiving chemotherapy was proving very difficult, and cutting out the tumor would mean cutting the tendons that enwrap it, thus making his lower leg immobile. The tears continued to fall. At this point, I had no idea what this woman was going to ask me...money to visit?...help finding better medical treatment as an illegal immigrant? I had absolutely no idea. But then she said, "My question for you is this: I just want to know if the medical treatment in the United States is advanced?" That was it...a simple request for a little reassurance from someone who knows where her son is living. This land of the United States is so completely foreign to this woman, she has no understanding of most things there...all she simply wanted was to feel a connection to her son through me, and be confident in and comforted by his important journey he is about to embark on...as an illegal immigrant in a foreign land. She asked if I knew the the specific hospital her son was at, and questioned its ability. I assured her that New Jersey and New York yield many very specialized, skilled doctors and that her son would be fine with the medical system there. Though I can't be sure this is the case, I said so because I am confident that our medical system will realize and recognize the importance of every human being, illegal or not, and their right to have adequate health care, ability to pay or not. It was a bittersweet interaction - I felt extremely powerful, yet completely powerless at the same time. I wanted to tell her that I really had no knowledge whatsoever of the medical system in New Jersey, and that getting treatment as an illegal would prove difficult, but I held back. I have learned that hope is what gets me through my days here, and so I continued to exude that same aura in that moment towards that woman. I can only hope it worked.

So you have it...very simple things happened today after waking up purposeless - a text message, laughter, a desire for a lending ear. But then I realized that this is why I am here. I need to give up this strong desire to move mountains. Idealism is important, but too much can lead to frustration. It's in the simple day-to-day things that really make the difference. I am here to listen, to help, to collaborate, to laugh with the people, to dance, to paint, to give advice, to see, to learn, and ultimately, this is what will move mountains.