I apologize for not keeping up with my blog as often as I
had hoped I would, but it has been quite a month. Probably all the more reason
I should have been blogging though. Anyway, here is what I have been up to:
As the last
children file out of the dining room of Madre Teresa towards their mattresses,
I begin rearranging upside-down chairs, pushed tables, thrown toys, and other
miscellaneous objects left scattered about. It looks as though a tornado of
rice and beans has just wrought havoc. Barbara’s raspy soulful voice quells
their rambunctious spirits and washes away the various wrongdoings and scuffles
of the day with nursery rhymes and prayers. All that remains is her voice and
the fond memories that are drawn to it, accompanied by the “swishes” and “chises”
of wet towel on plastic or straw bristles on tile. I have my routine set. I
begin by wiping down the tables and chairs, wiping solid foods onto the ground
and dissolving oil and grime with the potent mixture of bleach, soup, and water
the nuns have concocted. After stacking the chairs on the tables, I move on to
the food, which by now has begun to dry and cement itself to the floor. I work
my way around in such a way that I end up with one big pile of dusty food by
the door. I dump it and begin the mop in a similar fashion.
I have
begun to get lost in it. I switch into autopilot as I reflect about this or
that. A thorough resolve to get every grain of rice and every skin of a bean
smashed by a toddler’s heel has developed. I sometimes only snap out of it once
a nun comes by to tell me Ivan has arrived or a nun doing dishes asks me about
my day. Other times, a child wanders past to use the bathroom or delay naptime.
The first couple of days it seemed like something I might get tired of.
Instead, I have begun to enjoy the time I have to reflect and cleanse. Also,
the daycare would be pretty gross if we didn’t. That practicality makes it all
the easier to do.
I mentioned
this month has been especially eventful though. I have felt as though I have
had less time to process given the amount of input I have been receiving in
various circumstances. Among other things, we have been working on a means to
better utilize our weekly university class at Relio Rocha, adjusting to host
families, navigating Salvador ’s
safety concerns, and, mixed into all of that, working on communication. Obviously
Portuguese plays a huge role in aiding our communication. We have been consistently
working on that for the past two and a half months. A lot of the more
complicated observations, thoughts, feelings, and experiences end up being
harder to relay in Portuguese though. We are lucky to have Vini and Grace, who
do wonders with English I can only hope to learn in my acquiring of Portuguese
as a second language. Beyond that, whether we are dealing with Portuguese or
English, we have this foreign culture and environment that presents as much an
obstacle as anything else to communication.
This
interaction between two people or groups also has an important context, life.
Given the unknown nature of the future and the unpredictability of almost
anything, especially in a polarized developing community, we have to overcome
obstacles we have no control over. Damiana passed away about three weeks ago in
her sleep. I found out on a Monday after asking a nun how the weekend went. I
had an eventful weekend with my host family that very weekend. That is to say,
I had some concerns about my host family situation based on my first weekend
with them. Given that that should be a place where I recharge batteries and
reflect in a relaxing environment, it imposed on other situations. There was
not any progress in Relio Hocha despite my speaking with our teacher in
Portuguese and English the Friday before. We began approaching that more
critically as a group. I also felt as though I was having trouble relaying some
of my concerns with Vini and Grace. In addition to that, I was mugged in
Pelourinho, the historical district of Salvador, that Tuesday. So I had just
been having more to process than usual that week in particular.
In a lot of
ways, it reminds me of my first days at Madre Teresa. I spoke very little
Portuguese (communication difficulties), there was a lot going on, and I did
not know where to start. There were a lot of fresh new opportunities for growth
and I tackled them as they came, reflecting and adjusting as I went. As I
compare my experiences as a whole to my experiences in Madre Teresa, I now
understand it probably had something to do with my mindset. I went into Madre
Teresa with the understanding that I knew nothing and no one there. I made it
my duty to do the best I could with what I had and to be okay with whatever
that meant. I knew it would be messy and bumpy. It is much harder to have that
mindset once you have gotten into the routine of things though. I felt
comfortable in a way that set me up for surprise when a lot of things were
simultaneously made harder.
Not to say
that the caliber of what I was dealing with was not different. When it comes to
life and death, things are less clear for me and guidelines are very much
different. I have created an instinct towards keeping a perspective that takes
into account a bigger picture. I do not know how to incorporate these things
yet, or if to so quickly. On one hand, this is a complex individual with a
multitude of thoughts and emotions just waiting to be shared and expressed.
Though this does not add to Damiana’s significance in any special way, I also
just so happened to know this individual too. On the other hand, this literally
happens all the time; it’s part of life. So as I sat in a meeting, not very
concerned at having lost a watch or necklace the day before, being scolded
about a failure to notify this or that person about the theft, I could not help
but feel like it did not matter one bit. A wonderful group of women at Madre
Teresa were suffering, in addition to family and friends of Damiana. And she is
gone. Though I would hate to reduce her passing to some sort of objective
occurrence, the net suffering that occurred surely justified my preoccupation,
as opposed to most of the day to day little things I try not to let get to me.
I just don’t know who or what this is all about, especially once you mix in day
to day randomness.
I am trying
to find balance these days. I feel like a bit of a robot at times for reducing
these experiences to objective analyses, especially considering emotions play
such an integral role in life. I felt lost in that week, in how unclear things
are, in where the emphases of those around me laid. The more I think about it,
the more I feel as though there are no breaks or rests, only states of
engagement and withdrawal. I used to think that withdrawal meant I was not
doing something my best. Part of being human is being stumped though, humbled.
And what better way to experience something than to be withdrawn to a certain
extent. I had to let it take me where it would. I was so busy trying to do the
best with what I had that I did not stop to let it tear me down. I don’t ever
want to lose that sensitivity; it gives as much perspective as anything else.
At least, not yet.
That week
in particular, though tough, has put me in a better spot with Vini and Grace
(Probably our best means’ of support and tools for implementing positive
change) and given me a lot to think about in terms of how I approached and
should approach my time here. I am on the brink now, after having gotten
through that week and others, of making decisions that will impact the next six
months of my experience. In a lot of ways we are just getting started. I see a
lot of potential in the things we are doing and planning, and we have learned a
lot about confronting a number of scenarios. My suboptimal circumstances before
now have only made me more excited for what is to come, successes and/or more opportunities
for reflection and growth.
