Holiness
At the end of each day, I try to recognize and name something holy (experience, person, etc..) that I experienced that day. I find that this exercise helps me to be present in day to day life, and seek out the beauty in a world where goodness sometimes feels scarse. As some of you already know, I am very open about ideas on religion, and I use the word holiness in the sense of recognizing something sacred, recognizing something that touches the soul, a moment where time seems to stop just so we don’t miss it. I believe that God, or some larger force is present in these moments of holiness, but depending on religious background/beliefs, others may define this word/experience differently.
I had a holy moment last Saturday and have found myself wanting to find time to share it with you. I spent all day at Providencia last Saturday. I arrived around 9am, tired and really wanting to hop back into bed, and left around 8pm, renewed and at peace. Throughout the day kids came and went while the adults spent their time working on various projects. The day was filled with work and with play. At one point, I found myself playing with a balloon with some of the younger kids…I forgot how something so simple could be so much fun. The atmosphere was peaceful despite the noise and movement. There were no fights and the mood was light hearted. Towards the end of the day I was helping make tortas fritas (fried dough) when Maria came to me crying. Maria is a 5 year old who lives with her 9 brothers and sisters in front of the community center. It may not seem so rare that after a long day of play a five year old came up to me crying after bumping her head; but Maria is rare in that I have never met such a tough five year old. Maria plays tough, fights tough, and doesn’t let her guard down. She likes her hugs and kisses like the rest of the kids, but she also is unlike any five year old I know. Anyways, back to the story…I knelt down to see what had happened and due to my poor Spanish skills, decided that it might just be better to pick her up. I picked up her little body and she wrapped her arms around my neck and laid her head on my shoulder. The music was still blaring and as I stood their rocking her to the beat, her body became dead weight in my arms. We stayed like that for fifteen minutes. As I rocked her I watched two other girls go running and sliding across the floor…each time they would end up in hysterics , rolling around on the floor laughing. In these fifteen minutes life seemed to stop. Maria let go of her “tough act’ and for a few moments, was what I think of as a “typical” 5 year old, someone who seeks love, comfort, trust, and touch. Karin and Mylen (the girls sliding on the floor) were liberated for a moment from their daily reality of violence, hunger, and responsibility and spent time giggling on the floor.
Its moments like these that keep us going; that recharge us to face our realities when the moment comes to an end. I will continue to look for holy moments throughout the year to store in my mind and will draw on them in times of frustration, sadness, anger, injustice, and exasperation.
Holiness is what I long for, holiness is what I need, holiness is what you want from me.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
A New Rythm
Looking For a New Rhythm
“I have to start looking for a new rhythm” – Henri Nouwen, Gracias!
Although taken out of context, the above quote accurately describes my journey throughout this month. I have had to start looking for a new rhythm in food, conversation, and schedule. I have found this search for a new rhythm challenging, exciting, tiring, eye-opening, filling (literally filling my stomach with food!), joyful, and fun!
Food
Seeing as walking through grocery stores is one of my favorite things, and with thanksgiving approaching, I will start off with food. Argentines like to eat and find any excuse to get together with friends for a fiesta.
Asado. The majority of fiestas begin with a traditional Argentine asado. I have had the opportunity to go to various asados throughout the last 2 months with the Foresti family. An asado is a little bit like what we would consider a barbeque in the US. Various cuts of meat are bought from a carniceria (a butcher shop often with various parts of a cow hanging in the window) and prepared to be cooked on the parilla. A parilla is a large grill which often looks like a large fireplace built in the yard. The meat is cooked for about 2 hours and when the asado is ready, family and friends often sit at a long table equipped with steak knives, wine, salad, and bread. Asados are as much about socializing as they are about eating and usually go well into the afternoon and evening before coming to a close!
Dulces. Argentines love their sweets and I recently read that the country of Argentina consumes the most sweets per capita than any other country in the world. One of the most popular dulces consumed is the alflajor , two soft sugar cookies held together by dulce de leche, chocolate, or fresh jam. Alflajores are sold everywhere and anywhere from top restaurants to trains and buses. Cookies are also a staple at any event, trip, class, afternoon tea, breakfast, or midnight snack. Most grocery stores have a whole isle dedicated to cookies and if you are invited into a house for coffee, tea, or mate, you will most likely be offered and encouraged to eat your fair share of cookies. Helado, or ice cream is also a widely-enjoyed treat year-round. I have yet to walk more than three blocks without passing a heladeria and be tempted by the numerous flavors of home-made ice cream. Yum.
Mate. Mate is one of my favorite traditions of Argentine culture. Mate is more than just a drink, it is a cultural ritual that is shared among family, friends, coworkers, and strangers. Yerba mate is a herb grown in the northern region of Argentina and is widely consumed in Argentina, Uruguay, and Paraguay. To drink mate, the cebador (server) fills a hollowed-out gourd with yerba and then fills the gord with hot water. The mate is then passed clockwise around the room and drinkers drink the yerba through a bombilla, a silver straw with a filter at the bottom to prevent the yerba from entering the tube. The mate is passed back to the server after each drink and is refilled with water for the next person. Argentines consume on average of 5kg of mate each year and are, for lack of a better word, mate-fanatics. In my daily activities I see people drinking mate on buses and trains, in cars and parks, and when walking down the street with friends. The majority of argentines own atleast one thermos and mate gourd and it is very common to see people walking down the street with their thermos tucked under their arm. I am often struck at what a beautiful expression of community I see in the ritual of drinking mate.
Conversation
Besos. The first day I spent at the community center, around 30 students from a neighboring school came to help re organize the library. When they arrived they walked in single file and greeted me (before even knowing my name) with a kiss on the cheek. Instead of shaking hands when meeting or greeting, argentines kiss each other on the right cheek when entering or leaving a room. Family members and friends (both male and female) are also very affectionate in their everyday interactions.
Te Sirvo?. The hospitality I experience each day here continues to humble and amaze me; and is something concrete that I hope I can continue when I return home. From my experience, the majority of households, businesses, and community spaces are ready and expectant to receive visitors. There is also coffee and tea on supply as well as some type of cookie or snack. Visitors (announced or unannounced) are usually warmly welcomed and offered something to drink and eat as well as time for conversation. One thing I have had to get used to is offering to serve others, te sirvo? , before I refill my glass or plate. After a weekend of unexpected visitors I now realize how important it is to be prepared to openly welcome people into your home at any time (i.e. Keep the kitchen, dining area, and bathroom CLEAN!).
Personal Space. The idea of “personal bubble” does not exist in Argentina and I have quickly gotten used to that bubble being popped. When waiting in line, you should be touching the person in front of you to keep your spot. When getting on the bus you should not only be touching the person in front of you, but also gently encouraging them to continue moving forward to the last person to get on is not hanging out of the door.
Schedule
Comida. The hours that people eat are quite different from those in the US and have taken some getting used to. Desayuno or breakfast usually consists of a cup of coffee and some cookies or crackers and is eaten at similar hours to the US. Almuerzo , or lunch is eaten around 1 or 2pm and is usually the largest meal of the day. Depending on the context, lunch can go on for various hours as Argentines enjoy conversing around the table. Cena, or dinner is what has taken some getting used to. Dinner usually is not served until 8pm or later. There have been nights where we begin to eat at 11:30 and don’t finish until 1am.
Siesta. When I first arrived in Jose C. Paz, I asked about when the safest times to be walking alone and was told I should try to stay off of the streets between 1 and 5pm. At first I thought this was crazy-why would I need to be inside in the middle of the day? I quickly found out that in this area of the Provincia, the majority of stores close from about 1 to 5pm, leaving the streets empty of pedestrians and store-keepers. The only thing I have had to adjust for the hours of siesta is when I do my grocery shopping!
Fiesta. My first weekend in Jose C. Paz, I went to a birthday party with Omar and his family for a girl who was turning 15. We left when the party was just getting going….around 4:30 am. I was surprised to see people from 2 years old to 70 or 80 on the dance floor at this hour and was even more surprised to find out that the birthday cake wasn’t served until around 6am. Argentines of all ages stay up late. Since my first weekend, I have been to many birthday parties in which the cake is not served until after midnight. On the weekdays when I am invited to eat dinner often we do not finish until 1am even though everyone has school and work in the morning. Maybe this is why Argentines drink so much coffee and mate!
“I have to start looking for a new rhythm” – Henri Nouwen, Gracias!
Although taken out of context, the above quote accurately describes my journey throughout this month. I have had to start looking for a new rhythm in food, conversation, and schedule. I have found this search for a new rhythm challenging, exciting, tiring, eye-opening, filling (literally filling my stomach with food!), joyful, and fun!
Food
Seeing as walking through grocery stores is one of my favorite things, and with thanksgiving approaching, I will start off with food. Argentines like to eat and find any excuse to get together with friends for a fiesta.
Asado. The majority of fiestas begin with a traditional Argentine asado. I have had the opportunity to go to various asados throughout the last 2 months with the Foresti family. An asado is a little bit like what we would consider a barbeque in the US. Various cuts of meat are bought from a carniceria (a butcher shop often with various parts of a cow hanging in the window) and prepared to be cooked on the parilla. A parilla is a large grill which often looks like a large fireplace built in the yard. The meat is cooked for about 2 hours and when the asado is ready, family and friends often sit at a long table equipped with steak knives, wine, salad, and bread. Asados are as much about socializing as they are about eating and usually go well into the afternoon and evening before coming to a close!
Dulces. Argentines love their sweets and I recently read that the country of Argentina consumes the most sweets per capita than any other country in the world. One of the most popular dulces consumed is the alflajor , two soft sugar cookies held together by dulce de leche, chocolate, or fresh jam. Alflajores are sold everywhere and anywhere from top restaurants to trains and buses. Cookies are also a staple at any event, trip, class, afternoon tea, breakfast, or midnight snack. Most grocery stores have a whole isle dedicated to cookies and if you are invited into a house for coffee, tea, or mate, you will most likely be offered and encouraged to eat your fair share of cookies. Helado, or ice cream is also a widely-enjoyed treat year-round. I have yet to walk more than three blocks without passing a heladeria and be tempted by the numerous flavors of home-made ice cream. Yum.
Mate. Mate is one of my favorite traditions of Argentine culture. Mate is more than just a drink, it is a cultural ritual that is shared among family, friends, coworkers, and strangers. Yerba mate is a herb grown in the northern region of Argentina and is widely consumed in Argentina, Uruguay, and Paraguay. To drink mate, the cebador (server) fills a hollowed-out gourd with yerba and then fills the gord with hot water. The mate is then passed clockwise around the room and drinkers drink the yerba through a bombilla, a silver straw with a filter at the bottom to prevent the yerba from entering the tube. The mate is passed back to the server after each drink and is refilled with water for the next person. Argentines consume on average of 5kg of mate each year and are, for lack of a better word, mate-fanatics. In my daily activities I see people drinking mate on buses and trains, in cars and parks, and when walking down the street with friends. The majority of argentines own atleast one thermos and mate gourd and it is very common to see people walking down the street with their thermos tucked under their arm. I am often struck at what a beautiful expression of community I see in the ritual of drinking mate.
Conversation
Besos. The first day I spent at the community center, around 30 students from a neighboring school came to help re organize the library. When they arrived they walked in single file and greeted me (before even knowing my name) with a kiss on the cheek. Instead of shaking hands when meeting or greeting, argentines kiss each other on the right cheek when entering or leaving a room. Family members and friends (both male and female) are also very affectionate in their everyday interactions.
Te Sirvo?. The hospitality I experience each day here continues to humble and amaze me; and is something concrete that I hope I can continue when I return home. From my experience, the majority of households, businesses, and community spaces are ready and expectant to receive visitors. There is also coffee and tea on supply as well as some type of cookie or snack. Visitors (announced or unannounced) are usually warmly welcomed and offered something to drink and eat as well as time for conversation. One thing I have had to get used to is offering to serve others, te sirvo? , before I refill my glass or plate. After a weekend of unexpected visitors I now realize how important it is to be prepared to openly welcome people into your home at any time (i.e. Keep the kitchen, dining area, and bathroom CLEAN!).
Personal Space. The idea of “personal bubble” does not exist in Argentina and I have quickly gotten used to that bubble being popped. When waiting in line, you should be touching the person in front of you to keep your spot. When getting on the bus you should not only be touching the person in front of you, but also gently encouraging them to continue moving forward to the last person to get on is not hanging out of the door.
Schedule
Comida. The hours that people eat are quite different from those in the US and have taken some getting used to. Desayuno or breakfast usually consists of a cup of coffee and some cookies or crackers and is eaten at similar hours to the US. Almuerzo , or lunch is eaten around 1 or 2pm and is usually the largest meal of the day. Depending on the context, lunch can go on for various hours as Argentines enjoy conversing around the table. Cena, or dinner is what has taken some getting used to. Dinner usually is not served until 8pm or later. There have been nights where we begin to eat at 11:30 and don’t finish until 1am.
Siesta. When I first arrived in Jose C. Paz, I asked about when the safest times to be walking alone and was told I should try to stay off of the streets between 1 and 5pm. At first I thought this was crazy-why would I need to be inside in the middle of the day? I quickly found out that in this area of the Provincia, the majority of stores close from about 1 to 5pm, leaving the streets empty of pedestrians and store-keepers. The only thing I have had to adjust for the hours of siesta is when I do my grocery shopping!
Fiesta. My first weekend in Jose C. Paz, I went to a birthday party with Omar and his family for a girl who was turning 15. We left when the party was just getting going….around 4:30 am. I was surprised to see people from 2 years old to 70 or 80 on the dance floor at this hour and was even more surprised to find out that the birthday cake wasn’t served until around 6am. Argentines of all ages stay up late. Since my first weekend, I have been to many birthday parties in which the cake is not served until after midnight. On the weekdays when I am invited to eat dinner often we do not finish until 1am even though everyone has school and work in the morning. Maybe this is why Argentines drink so much coffee and mate!
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Rayas de esperanza
Va a llover manana (It’s going to rain tomorrow)
“Everywhere there was the tendency to live, act, and think as if the real life is not here but there, not now but later. This tendency makes the formation of community so difficult, if not impossible. Community develops where we experience that something significant is taking place where we are. It is the fruit of the intimate knowledge that we are together, not because of a common need- such as to learn a language- but because we are called together to help make God’s presence visible in the world.”
Today we swept, washed, and swept some more the dirt, leaves, squished blackberries, that caked the sidewalk running from the dirt road, through the dirt field, to the community center. Last week there was a big storm and for a few days following the storm, the entrance to Providencia looked more like a muddy swamp than the dirt field that is used each Saturday for everything from soccer to dancing. When it rains, the only way to get to the building is by walking on this thin sidewalk…something that becomes essential when the only pair of shoes you own are the shoes on your feet . For this reason, the two of us spent about an hour spraying and scrubbing the dirt that had washed up to get it looking its best. Today it reached 100 degrees with 50% humidity and throughout this time outside I found myself wondering if this was really necessary, how much of a difference did it make if the side walk was clean or dirty. After the hour I took a minute to admire our work; the sidewalk was clean and despite my questioning throughout the processes, I found myself taking pride in our work and in the upkeep of the community center. Va a llover manana.
Yesterday I spent part of my morning at the hogar with Elena, one of the residents who has Alzheimer’s, and who I had come to know and love since my first day. When I walked into her room her face lit up and as we said hello with a hug and a kiss she asked me in English if we had met before. I told her that yes, we have, and in fact, usually we drink tea together each week. Elena and I sat looking out the window for about an hour. In our time spent together each day, Elena speaks to me in both English and Spanish, and her sentences are broken and often trail off after two or three words. I usually find myself quiet when I am with Elena, comforted by her hand in mine, as we both struggle to understand the foreign land that surrounds us. Va a llover manana.
On Wednesdays I go to Providencia to watch the kids of the women who participate in the women’s group. This past Wednesday the group celebrated mother’s day with a surprise Spa Day. I spent most of my time outside playing but whenever I walked inside I was struck by the transformed spirit of many of these women. The women walked into the center subdued and weighted down by their reality of poverty, violence, and oppression; however, an hour into the meeting there was lively chatter, genuine smiles, and a sense of dignity. Everyone got manicures, pedicures, haircuts, and facials while they enjoyed cake and soda. Women who I had come to know as sad, subdued, and overwhelmed seemed to come to life for maybe the first time since their meeting the previous week. Va a llover manana.
Va a llover manana. On Wednesday night after spending the whole afternoon at “Spa Providencia” Rosy and I shared a bottle of wine and bread outside on the patio between our two houses and reflected on the afternoon. Rosy works with three different community projects throughout the area focusing on either women, domestic violence, or both. She shared with me that sometimes she comes home exhausted and defeated after spending the day listening to women tell their stories, many of which are uglier than I had ever imagined. She shared with me that days like “Spa Providencia” are the “rays of hope” (rayas de esperanza) that keep her going. For one afternoon women of all walks came together and were cared for, planting the seed that we (all of the women present this afternoon) should be valued and should be treated with dignity as individuals with dreams, fears, needs, and capabilities. Yes, it is going to rain tomorrow, Elena isn’t going to remember who I am, the women of Providencia are going walk out of the community center into a reality where they are treated as discarded and forgotten individuals of society, and the mud and blackberries are yet again going to cover the clean sidewalk. BUT for one day, the sidewalk was clean, Elena and I didn’t feel so alone, and the women of Providencia came out of hiding to a shared space of dignity, value, laughter, conversation, and love. These rayas de esperanza are what help us rise in the morning and give us comfort as we prepare to go to bed each night.
“Everywhere there was the tendency to live, act, and think as if the real life is not here but there, not now but later. This tendency makes the formation of community so difficult, if not impossible. Community develops where we experience that something significant is taking place where we are. It is the fruit of the intimate knowledge that we are together, not because of a common need- such as to learn a language- but because we are called together to help make God’s presence visible in the world.”
Today we swept, washed, and swept some more the dirt, leaves, squished blackberries, that caked the sidewalk running from the dirt road, through the dirt field, to the community center. Last week there was a big storm and for a few days following the storm, the entrance to Providencia looked more like a muddy swamp than the dirt field that is used each Saturday for everything from soccer to dancing. When it rains, the only way to get to the building is by walking on this thin sidewalk…something that becomes essential when the only pair of shoes you own are the shoes on your feet . For this reason, the two of us spent about an hour spraying and scrubbing the dirt that had washed up to get it looking its best. Today it reached 100 degrees with 50% humidity and throughout this time outside I found myself wondering if this was really necessary, how much of a difference did it make if the side walk was clean or dirty. After the hour I took a minute to admire our work; the sidewalk was clean and despite my questioning throughout the processes, I found myself taking pride in our work and in the upkeep of the community center. Va a llover manana.
Yesterday I spent part of my morning at the hogar with Elena, one of the residents who has Alzheimer’s, and who I had come to know and love since my first day. When I walked into her room her face lit up and as we said hello with a hug and a kiss she asked me in English if we had met before. I told her that yes, we have, and in fact, usually we drink tea together each week. Elena and I sat looking out the window for about an hour. In our time spent together each day, Elena speaks to me in both English and Spanish, and her sentences are broken and often trail off after two or three words. I usually find myself quiet when I am with Elena, comforted by her hand in mine, as we both struggle to understand the foreign land that surrounds us. Va a llover manana.
On Wednesdays I go to Providencia to watch the kids of the women who participate in the women’s group. This past Wednesday the group celebrated mother’s day with a surprise Spa Day. I spent most of my time outside playing but whenever I walked inside I was struck by the transformed spirit of many of these women. The women walked into the center subdued and weighted down by their reality of poverty, violence, and oppression; however, an hour into the meeting there was lively chatter, genuine smiles, and a sense of dignity. Everyone got manicures, pedicures, haircuts, and facials while they enjoyed cake and soda. Women who I had come to know as sad, subdued, and overwhelmed seemed to come to life for maybe the first time since their meeting the previous week. Va a llover manana.
Va a llover manana. On Wednesday night after spending the whole afternoon at “Spa Providencia” Rosy and I shared a bottle of wine and bread outside on the patio between our two houses and reflected on the afternoon. Rosy works with three different community projects throughout the area focusing on either women, domestic violence, or both. She shared with me that sometimes she comes home exhausted and defeated after spending the day listening to women tell their stories, many of which are uglier than I had ever imagined. She shared with me that days like “Spa Providencia” are the “rays of hope” (rayas de esperanza) that keep her going. For one afternoon women of all walks came together and were cared for, planting the seed that we (all of the women present this afternoon) should be valued and should be treated with dignity as individuals with dreams, fears, needs, and capabilities. Yes, it is going to rain tomorrow, Elena isn’t going to remember who I am, the women of Providencia are going walk out of the community center into a reality where they are treated as discarded and forgotten individuals of society, and the mud and blackberries are yet again going to cover the clean sidewalk. BUT for one day, the sidewalk was clean, Elena and I didn’t feel so alone, and the women of Providencia came out of hiding to a shared space of dignity, value, laughter, conversation, and love. These rayas de esperanza are what help us rise in the morning and give us comfort as we prepare to go to bed each night.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Bailemos!
Let’s Murga!
They call themselves the Gasta Suela and are the kids, youth, volunteers, and adults of PRovidencia. On performance days they gather early, the excitement is catching, as colorful designs accented with glitter transform a sea of faces into distinct individuals. Kids are pushed out the door, stopping periodically to add glitter to their faces or fix a button or two on their orange and green outfit…they are already running late! Everyone boards the bus in excitement, fitting 2,3,sometimes 4 to a seat, ready to go. The drums, large puppet, green and orange flag, and banner board last. As the bus pulls away from the dirt road leading to the stark reality of the barrio, the drums start with a steady, bold beat…thus begins the MURGA.
The Murga is a dance in Argentina and Uruguay and is generally performed by citizens who are fighting for the injustices they have experienced or for the injustices experienced by others. I was introduced to the Murga the first evening I spent in Providencia and over the last month, have learned that the spirit and purpose of Providencia is expressed through the song and dance of the Murga. The group from Providencia call themselves the Gasta Suela, or the worn sole (of a shoe), and after a month at Providencia, I have come to learn that the majority of kids from the barrio own one pair of shoes, with worn soles and holes, which prevent them from going to school when the rain creates a swamp of mud around their house. When the Gasta Suela are not performing, they practice at the end of each Saturday, after a day of playing and laughing. The meaning of the dance and songs is learned through various games and in casual conversation between generations.
They step off the bus into a neighborhood much like their own. The drums continue, growing stronger with each beat. The Gasta Suela line up, kids in the front, and youth/adults in the back, and begin their dance into the community. After about 10 minutes, the movement slows, the drums continue, and the community focuses up front, on various youth from the barrio. They begin to expose the reality of poverty through dialogue and song.; suddenly a rat appears in the crowd and the Gasta Suela jump and scream with fright, the rat of oppression has appeared.
The Murga lasts about 45 minutes and includes dancing, singing, and theatrics. The “rat” represents the presence of society and government within the barrios of poverty. The lyrics argue that society looks at the poor as dirty, smelly, lazy, violent, and miserable, yet it is society who is responsible for the current state of the barrios. They argue that the dirt and trash in the barrios is there because it is where the rest of society dumps their trash, and the “laziness” of unemployment is present because the government was elected through empty promises of a better life and has since then forgotten the barrios. Society is the rat within the barrios that creates situations of violence, poverty, unemployment, and dirt.
The rhythm grows stronger as the dance continues. People of all ages are pulled from the audience to join the dance. Arms flail, legs kick, bodies move, as the community dances in a circle as one.
The hope of a better tomorrow comes at the end of the dance, when communities join together to dance against the rat present all over the world. The last song expresses the hope of a better life, a neighborhood where it is safe to leave the doors unlocked, where there are pilates clubs and plazas, and where there are football games on Sundays. This dance expresses my perspective of Providencia, a place of HOPE and community among the realities of poverty, brought on by the rats within society.
They board the bus, filled with excitement and energy. As we begin the ride back, I watch one of the youngest dancers give in to tiredness and close his eyes; I wonder when the time will come where we all dance the Murga, as a global community, with the hope that one day this boy won’t have to wake up in the reality of Gastas Suelas.
They call themselves the Gasta Suela and are the kids, youth, volunteers, and adults of PRovidencia. On performance days they gather early, the excitement is catching, as colorful designs accented with glitter transform a sea of faces into distinct individuals. Kids are pushed out the door, stopping periodically to add glitter to their faces or fix a button or two on their orange and green outfit…they are already running late! Everyone boards the bus in excitement, fitting 2,3,sometimes 4 to a seat, ready to go. The drums, large puppet, green and orange flag, and banner board last. As the bus pulls away from the dirt road leading to the stark reality of the barrio, the drums start with a steady, bold beat…thus begins the MURGA.
The Murga is a dance in Argentina and Uruguay and is generally performed by citizens who are fighting for the injustices they have experienced or for the injustices experienced by others. I was introduced to the Murga the first evening I spent in Providencia and over the last month, have learned that the spirit and purpose of Providencia is expressed through the song and dance of the Murga. The group from Providencia call themselves the Gasta Suela, or the worn sole (of a shoe), and after a month at Providencia, I have come to learn that the majority of kids from the barrio own one pair of shoes, with worn soles and holes, which prevent them from going to school when the rain creates a swamp of mud around their house. When the Gasta Suela are not performing, they practice at the end of each Saturday, after a day of playing and laughing. The meaning of the dance and songs is learned through various games and in casual conversation between generations.
They step off the bus into a neighborhood much like their own. The drums continue, growing stronger with each beat. The Gasta Suela line up, kids in the front, and youth/adults in the back, and begin their dance into the community. After about 10 minutes, the movement slows, the drums continue, and the community focuses up front, on various youth from the barrio. They begin to expose the reality of poverty through dialogue and song.; suddenly a rat appears in the crowd and the Gasta Suela jump and scream with fright, the rat of oppression has appeared.
The Murga lasts about 45 minutes and includes dancing, singing, and theatrics. The “rat” represents the presence of society and government within the barrios of poverty. The lyrics argue that society looks at the poor as dirty, smelly, lazy, violent, and miserable, yet it is society who is responsible for the current state of the barrios. They argue that the dirt and trash in the barrios is there because it is where the rest of society dumps their trash, and the “laziness” of unemployment is present because the government was elected through empty promises of a better life and has since then forgotten the barrios. Society is the rat within the barrios that creates situations of violence, poverty, unemployment, and dirt.
The rhythm grows stronger as the dance continues. People of all ages are pulled from the audience to join the dance. Arms flail, legs kick, bodies move, as the community dances in a circle as one.
The hope of a better tomorrow comes at the end of the dance, when communities join together to dance against the rat present all over the world. The last song expresses the hope of a better life, a neighborhood where it is safe to leave the doors unlocked, where there are pilates clubs and plazas, and where there are football games on Sundays. This dance expresses my perspective of Providencia, a place of HOPE and community among the realities of poverty, brought on by the rats within society.
They board the bus, filled with excitement and energy. As we begin the ride back, I watch one of the youngest dancers give in to tiredness and close his eyes; I wonder when the time will come where we all dance the Murga, as a global community, with the hope that one day this boy won’t have to wake up in the reality of Gastas Suelas.
September Newsletter
Here is the newsletter I sent out for September! Hope all is well!
Love,
Cristina
HOLA from Argentina!
Greetings from Argentina! I hope this newsletter finds you getting into the swing of things as the new school year begins. I cannot start this newsletter without sending a big THANK YOU for all of your prayers, emails, support, letters, and thoughts this past month! I am continually overwhelmed with how blessed I am to experience the love of so many friends, family members, and strangers throughout this journey. As I sit down to write this first newsletter, I am overwhelmed with a month’s worth of thoughts and experiences and am excited to share a small glimpse of my journey thus far. In general, I hope to use this monthly newsletter to share short stories, reflections, or perspectives; however, in this first newsletter, I would like to share the nuts and bolts of what I think will be important in understanding my journey and perspective throughout the year. I also hope you will take time to read about the Murga, a dance performed by many of the poorer barrios in Argentina and Uruguay. BAILEMOS!
Keeping in touch… I would love to hear from you this year! You can contact me via email at kinzcr01@luther.edu.
Peace,
Cristina Kinz
Young Adults in Global Missions (YAGM)
YAGM is an ELCA missionary program designed for young adults. I am one of 50 YAGM volunteers who will serve this year in eight different countries. I am one of five volunteers in Argentina and Uruguay.
Our journey started on July 19th when we met in Chicago for in-country training. The week was spent learning, discussing, reflecting, and playing. On the 26th we departed to our various countries for yet another week of training. After a 14 hour plane ride, the four other volunteers, Chris, Kate, Beth, Rachel, and I were greeted by our country coordinators, Kate and David. The next week was spent getting to know more each other as well as more about Argentina. On September 1st we left our training site and headed for what we will call home for the next year!
Vivienda….
I live and work in a province of Buenos Aires called Jose. C. Paz. The city of . J. C. Paz is a mixture of wealth and poverty. I have always known that extreme situations of wealth and poverty within the same city exist all over the world, but I was still struck by the fact that a nice house with gates, running water, electricity, etc… and a shack without a floor can be located on the same block in J.C. Paz. The province is much quieter and relaxed in comparison to the center part of Buenos Aires and I am thankful of the fact that I do not have to push my way through crowds of people when walking to work in the morning!
I live in a small in-law house behind the house of an amazing couple (Rosy and Ernesto) who also work in the community center where I am working. Rosy is a lawyer and works in a shelter for women who have experienced domestic violence. Her partner (Ernesto) is from Venezuela and is currently studying psychology. Omar (Rosy’s brother) lives around the corner with his wife (Alicia) and family, and works as an accountant; however, his true passion is with the community center where he spends most of his mornings and evenings. I feel like every minute I spend with this family, I am changed. There are no words that can sufficiently describe Rosy, Ernesto, Omar, and Alicia and I am so grateful that they will be a part of my journey this year.
Trabajo….
I work with Rosy, Ernesto, Omar, and Alicia in a community center in Barrio Providencia, one of the barrios in Jose C. Paz. Providencia started in 1995 and runs on donations and volunteers. When I saw the building for the first time I was struck by how small and precarious it looked. However, as soon as the gates opened, kids of all ages came running and this small concrete building surrounded by the realities of poverty came to life. The majority of the volunteers in Providencia have been a part of the community since they were in middle/high school and continue to spend their weekends in the community amidst their busy lives of school, work, and other activities.
I spend Wednesday afternoons, Thursday, and Saturday at Providencia. On Thursday mornings I help out in the kitchen and in the evenings I work with 4-5 other volunteers to help tutor 15-20 kids from the barrio. The first Thursday, I was struck by how as soon as the kids saw us coming, they ran outside with their backpacks, ready to learn. Most of these kids are not encouraged to come each Thursday, yet they come excited and determined to learn what we take for granted such as writing and reading. At the end of each session, more faces often show up for milk and a snack while the older kids (without being asked!) begin to sweep the floor, clean the tables, and wash the dishes. On Saturdays, we spend the afternoon playing, dancing, and talking. I love Saturdays because EVERYONE plays…adults, kids, teens, everyone laughs, plays, and cares are put aside for 3-4 hours. I am pulled back into reality at the end of each Saturday when the kids sit down for a snack and with hungry eyes, grab handfuls of cookies.
The “spirit” of Providencia focuses on building relationships within and between communities. There have been so many moments this past month that demonstrate this spirit, but to keep this already-long-newsletter , short, I’ll just choose one. I see this idea of interdependent relationships every Saturday morning when the high school youth meet around 8am to make empanadas ; which are later sold on the street to raise money for a camping trip in January. Youth from the barrio as well as from outside the barrio work together to raise enough money to fund their trip to the beach. Many of the youth who live elsewhere could afford this trip without spending their Saturday on the street selling empanadas, however, they choose to work alongside their friends who come from a very different reality to achieve the same goal of a fun weekend at the beach.
I also spend 3 days each week working at an elderly home which is funded by the Lutheran church. Hogar Ambruster is a private home and houses around 70 elderly with varying degrees of health. The first two weeks at the Hogar were difficult but as I have developed relationships with the residents, I have come to really enjoy my time there. The Hogar is about 7 blocks from Providencia and the change of realities from day to day continually reminds me of the large gap in wealth throughout the world.
Love,
Cristina
HOLA from Argentina!
Greetings from Argentina! I hope this newsletter finds you getting into the swing of things as the new school year begins. I cannot start this newsletter without sending a big THANK YOU for all of your prayers, emails, support, letters, and thoughts this past month! I am continually overwhelmed with how blessed I am to experience the love of so many friends, family members, and strangers throughout this journey. As I sit down to write this first newsletter, I am overwhelmed with a month’s worth of thoughts and experiences and am excited to share a small glimpse of my journey thus far. In general, I hope to use this monthly newsletter to share short stories, reflections, or perspectives; however, in this first newsletter, I would like to share the nuts and bolts of what I think will be important in understanding my journey and perspective throughout the year. I also hope you will take time to read about the Murga, a dance performed by many of the poorer barrios in Argentina and Uruguay. BAILEMOS!
Keeping in touch… I would love to hear from you this year! You can contact me via email at kinzcr01@luther.edu.
Peace,
Cristina Kinz
Young Adults in Global Missions (YAGM)
YAGM is an ELCA missionary program designed for young adults. I am one of 50 YAGM volunteers who will serve this year in eight different countries. I am one of five volunteers in Argentina and Uruguay.
Our journey started on July 19th when we met in Chicago for in-country training. The week was spent learning, discussing, reflecting, and playing. On the 26th we departed to our various countries for yet another week of training. After a 14 hour plane ride, the four other volunteers, Chris, Kate, Beth, Rachel, and I were greeted by our country coordinators, Kate and David. The next week was spent getting to know more each other as well as more about Argentina. On September 1st we left our training site and headed for what we will call home for the next year!
Vivienda….
I live and work in a province of Buenos Aires called Jose. C. Paz. The city of . J. C. Paz is a mixture of wealth and poverty. I have always known that extreme situations of wealth and poverty within the same city exist all over the world, but I was still struck by the fact that a nice house with gates, running water, electricity, etc… and a shack without a floor can be located on the same block in J.C. Paz. The province is much quieter and relaxed in comparison to the center part of Buenos Aires and I am thankful of the fact that I do not have to push my way through crowds of people when walking to work in the morning!
I live in a small in-law house behind the house of an amazing couple (Rosy and Ernesto) who also work in the community center where I am working. Rosy is a lawyer and works in a shelter for women who have experienced domestic violence. Her partner (Ernesto) is from Venezuela and is currently studying psychology. Omar (Rosy’s brother) lives around the corner with his wife (Alicia) and family, and works as an accountant; however, his true passion is with the community center where he spends most of his mornings and evenings. I feel like every minute I spend with this family, I am changed. There are no words that can sufficiently describe Rosy, Ernesto, Omar, and Alicia and I am so grateful that they will be a part of my journey this year.
Trabajo….
I work with Rosy, Ernesto, Omar, and Alicia in a community center in Barrio Providencia, one of the barrios in Jose C. Paz. Providencia started in 1995 and runs on donations and volunteers. When I saw the building for the first time I was struck by how small and precarious it looked. However, as soon as the gates opened, kids of all ages came running and this small concrete building surrounded by the realities of poverty came to life. The majority of the volunteers in Providencia have been a part of the community since they were in middle/high school and continue to spend their weekends in the community amidst their busy lives of school, work, and other activities.
I spend Wednesday afternoons, Thursday, and Saturday at Providencia. On Thursday mornings I help out in the kitchen and in the evenings I work with 4-5 other volunteers to help tutor 15-20 kids from the barrio. The first Thursday, I was struck by how as soon as the kids saw us coming, they ran outside with their backpacks, ready to learn. Most of these kids are not encouraged to come each Thursday, yet they come excited and determined to learn what we take for granted such as writing and reading. At the end of each session, more faces often show up for milk and a snack while the older kids (without being asked!) begin to sweep the floor, clean the tables, and wash the dishes. On Saturdays, we spend the afternoon playing, dancing, and talking. I love Saturdays because EVERYONE plays…adults, kids, teens, everyone laughs, plays, and cares are put aside for 3-4 hours. I am pulled back into reality at the end of each Saturday when the kids sit down for a snack and with hungry eyes, grab handfuls of cookies.
The “spirit” of Providencia focuses on building relationships within and between communities. There have been so many moments this past month that demonstrate this spirit, but to keep this already-long-newsletter , short, I’ll just choose one. I see this idea of interdependent relationships every Saturday morning when the high school youth meet around 8am to make empanadas ; which are later sold on the street to raise money for a camping trip in January. Youth from the barrio as well as from outside the barrio work together to raise enough money to fund their trip to the beach. Many of the youth who live elsewhere could afford this trip without spending their Saturday on the street selling empanadas, however, they choose to work alongside their friends who come from a very different reality to achieve the same goal of a fun weekend at the beach.
I also spend 3 days each week working at an elderly home which is funded by the Lutheran church. Hogar Ambruster is a private home and houses around 70 elderly with varying degrees of health. The first two weeks at the Hogar were difficult but as I have developed relationships with the residents, I have come to really enjoy my time there. The Hogar is about 7 blocks from Providencia and the change of realities from day to day continually reminds me of the large gap in wealth throughout the world.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Wrinkles From a Life of Laughing
Hello! YES I am still alive, and my apologies for not writing sooner. My goal as of today is to start writing LESS more often. Anyways, I hope all is well back in the States and I think of you often!
This past month has been FULL of activities and sometimes it is hard to find time to take a breath. I spend 2 days at the eldery home and 3 days at the barrio and the majority of my off time is spent with the community here at birthday parties, concerts, lectures, etc... I came into this experience thinking I would be lonely at times and preparing myself to deal with that, however, I have had ample opportunities to spend with others and I find myself savoring (rather than dreading) the time I have alone to think, read, and write!
There are so many things I love about this culture and I would break my goal of trying to keep this short if I were to go into detail about what it is like to really LIVE day to day in Argentina. However, my experience this past Saturday at the barrio and then at home sum up some of the things I like most about Argentina.
On Saturday I got up early ready for Omar to pick me up at 10:00 to go to the barrio...at around 10:45 he pulled in and we made our way down the main street. Being on time is RARE in Argentina and it is generally acceptable to be 10-15 minutes late. Life moves at a slower pace and in general, people are not always in a hurry. I love this.
At the community center, we made bread with the group for jovenes (teens) for the whole community to eat later that day. As we were waiting for the bread to cook, I had one of the kids casually leaning on my shoulder while another had her arm linked around mine. I looked across the room and saw another one of the volunteers hugging and kissing one of the kids while having her arm linked to one of the teens. When one of the high school boys entered he said hello to everyone with a kiss on the cheek and then stopped to look at the bread with his arm casually slung around the shoulder of his buddy. Later that day when kids of all ages were at the center, I found myself with two kids on my lap, one playing with my hair, and one pulling at my arm. THIS CULTURE IS AFFECTIONATE and I LOVE IT. The power of touch is so important and unfortunately is not freely expressed in our culture.
Later that day, kids and adults of all ages came to the center to play, learn, talk, and laugh. One of the volunteers bought 2 bottles of soda, opened the cap, and passed them around. By the time the bottle got to me, around 40 kids had already taken their swig. People are not as concerned about germs and share openly and abundantly. I challenge you to buy a 2 liter and pass it around church/school/sports teams and see how many people openly drink out of the same bottle without knowing who drank out of it last.
Later that day, we had a meeting with all of the volunteers and leaders within the community. There were about 30 of us sitting in a circle when one of the volunteers walked in with a small loaf of bread. Intead of eating the whole thing, he grabbed a small piece and passed it around the whole circle. Later choclate was passed around and again broken into small pieces so that everyone could have a bite. Again, SHARING is second nature here...no one carries around their individual water bottles, or if they do, they open it and share with everyone else. WOW.
I retured that evening around 10pm ready to fall into my bed and crash. However, Rosy came over and invited me to eat dinner with her family who had recently arrived from the north. The table was LONG and everyone sat in community. We started eating around midnight and the evening ended around 2. Throughout the night I was struck my the talking and laughter. Everyone was talking at the same time and somehow everyone understood the jokes and stories that were being told. I sat back and watched for a while and decided that I have never seen such a large amount of genuine laughter in one place. Later that night Omar whipped out the guitar and over the talking, played various songs to which his uncles and brothers sang along. His uncle is 82 and heartily sang along with everyone. I looked at the corners of his eyes and smiled. They were full of wrinkles from laughter. I then preceded to look at the eyes of everyone in the room and found the same characteristic...eyes surrounded by wrinkles of laughter. Argentines like to laugh, talk, spend time together, eat meat, chocolate, and icecream , drink wine, and enjoy the richness of life. I love this.
Well I better get back to work. This week try to laugh with someone over a glass of wine while sharing a piece of chocolate. Enjoy the chaos of life and slow down a bit.
I miss all of you! Thank you for all your thoughts, letters, packages (mmmm peanut butter!) , notes, emails, and prayers!
Love,
Cristina
This past month has been FULL of activities and sometimes it is hard to find time to take a breath. I spend 2 days at the eldery home and 3 days at the barrio and the majority of my off time is spent with the community here at birthday parties, concerts, lectures, etc... I came into this experience thinking I would be lonely at times and preparing myself to deal with that, however, I have had ample opportunities to spend with others and I find myself savoring (rather than dreading) the time I have alone to think, read, and write!
There are so many things I love about this culture and I would break my goal of trying to keep this short if I were to go into detail about what it is like to really LIVE day to day in Argentina. However, my experience this past Saturday at the barrio and then at home sum up some of the things I like most about Argentina.
On Saturday I got up early ready for Omar to pick me up at 10:00 to go to the barrio...at around 10:45 he pulled in and we made our way down the main street. Being on time is RARE in Argentina and it is generally acceptable to be 10-15 minutes late. Life moves at a slower pace and in general, people are not always in a hurry. I love this.
At the community center, we made bread with the group for jovenes (teens) for the whole community to eat later that day. As we were waiting for the bread to cook, I had one of the kids casually leaning on my shoulder while another had her arm linked around mine. I looked across the room and saw another one of the volunteers hugging and kissing one of the kids while having her arm linked to one of the teens. When one of the high school boys entered he said hello to everyone with a kiss on the cheek and then stopped to look at the bread with his arm casually slung around the shoulder of his buddy. Later that day when kids of all ages were at the center, I found myself with two kids on my lap, one playing with my hair, and one pulling at my arm. THIS CULTURE IS AFFECTIONATE and I LOVE IT. The power of touch is so important and unfortunately is not freely expressed in our culture.
Later that day, kids and adults of all ages came to the center to play, learn, talk, and laugh. One of the volunteers bought 2 bottles of soda, opened the cap, and passed them around. By the time the bottle got to me, around 40 kids had already taken their swig. People are not as concerned about germs and share openly and abundantly. I challenge you to buy a 2 liter and pass it around church/school/sports teams and see how many people openly drink out of the same bottle without knowing who drank out of it last.
Later that day, we had a meeting with all of the volunteers and leaders within the community. There were about 30 of us sitting in a circle when one of the volunteers walked in with a small loaf of bread. Intead of eating the whole thing, he grabbed a small piece and passed it around the whole circle. Later choclate was passed around and again broken into small pieces so that everyone could have a bite. Again, SHARING is second nature here...no one carries around their individual water bottles, or if they do, they open it and share with everyone else. WOW.
I retured that evening around 10pm ready to fall into my bed and crash. However, Rosy came over and invited me to eat dinner with her family who had recently arrived from the north. The table was LONG and everyone sat in community. We started eating around midnight and the evening ended around 2. Throughout the night I was struck my the talking and laughter. Everyone was talking at the same time and somehow everyone understood the jokes and stories that were being told. I sat back and watched for a while and decided that I have never seen such a large amount of genuine laughter in one place. Later that night Omar whipped out the guitar and over the talking, played various songs to which his uncles and brothers sang along. His uncle is 82 and heartily sang along with everyone. I looked at the corners of his eyes and smiled. They were full of wrinkles from laughter. I then preceded to look at the eyes of everyone in the room and found the same characteristic...eyes surrounded by wrinkles of laughter. Argentines like to laugh, talk, spend time together, eat meat, chocolate, and icecream , drink wine, and enjoy the richness of life. I love this.
Well I better get back to work. This week try to laugh with someone over a glass of wine while sharing a piece of chocolate. Enjoy the chaos of life and slow down a bit.
I miss all of you! Thank you for all your thoughts, letters, packages (mmmm peanut butter!) , notes, emails, and prayers!
Love,
Cristina
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Asi es la vida
Asi es la vida
Asi es la vida. (Such is life). I heard this phrase many times throughout my first day at Hogar Ambrustar (the nursing home where I will be working for the next year) and thus found it an appropriate title for this new blog. During the first four days in Jose C. Paz, I have experienced and witnessed lots of “Asi es la vida” moments.
Some of the funnier “asi es la vida” moments have happened throughout the last few days as I have learned the ins and outs of my new home. My second night here I was unable to sleep and at 1:30 AM decided to heat up some milk to curb my growling stomach and hopefully get some sleep. I lit the stove and poured a large amount of milk into a small pan. I reached to grab the pan when the milk was heated and ended up spilling milk all over my already wet concrete floor (it was recently constructed and is still drying) , the wooden boards that my stove sits on, and my box of matches (thus ruining the matches). So at about 1:45 AM I was on the floor trying to clean up the milk I spilt with the one towel I had. They say there’s no use crying over spilt milk…so I laughed…and after all of that, I was finally able to fall asleep. Asi es la vida.
The next day I decided to explore the city on my own. I took a bus down town and arrived feeling pretty good about myself that I had taken the correct bus and got off at the plaza. My trip home was a little more eventful. I thought I had taken the right bus, and even asked the bus driver …I didn’t really understand his response so I just smiled and nodded and sat down. About 5 min into the trip I realized we were not going toward my house and I soon found myself on a dirt (mud) road in one of the barrios of Jose C. Paz. I asked the bus driver again if he passed by my house and again pretended to understand what he said. Eventually he told me to get off and catch another number to get home… I did understand him this time and was able to get back safely. Yet another humbling experience to let me know that I need to rely on others for something as simple as trying to get home. Asi es la vida.
Last night I again found myself unable to sleep and decided to eat some yogurt. I went to the refrigerator and pulled out my large bag of yogurt (yes, bag of yogurt) and had a sip (right out the bag!!) before going back to bed. I went to put the yogurt away and dropped the bag…all. over. the . floor. So yet again I found myself cleaning up a dairy product with the same rag as the milk off my already damp concrete floor. This time there were a few tears before the laughter. Asi es la vida.
I spent the majority of the weekend at the community center in Barrio Providencia, where I will be working for the next year. My first experiences with the community were filled with “asi es la vida” moments in the sense that what I was seeing and experiencing is reality for so many people. In reaction to these experiences, I say “asi es la vida” not with indifference but with a sense of reality and an urgency for change. My first experience with Barrio Providencia was on Friday evening through an intercambio project where kids from the local private school came to the barrio and ideally interacted and worked as a team with the kids from the barrio to organize the library in the community center. The key to this activity was to get youth of the same age with different backgrounds to work together and build commonalities. Omar (Rosy’s brother, also involved with Providencia) spoke to the youth about working together and building community before they got to work. When they finally started working, there was not much interaction between the two groups. Hopefully with time they will build community and learn that everyone has something to learn as well as something to teach. Asi es la vida.
Friday evening I returned with Omar to the community center to watch kids of all ages practice the Murga, a dance common in South America which exposes the injustices within society while carrying a sense of hope. I plan to go into more detail about this in my September newsletter, but WOW pretty much sums it up! The only instruments used in the dance are drums which carry a solid and loud beat that even I can clap to on rhythm. The dance has a beginning, middle, and end which includes singing, skits, and improv. I can’t wait to write more about this in the September newsletter. Anyways, it was awesome to watch the practice come together. Kids would show up at the door, grab a cookie to eat, and jump in to the dance. The community center is mostly run by young adults between the ages of 18 and 24. None of them are paid yet they give up a huge chunk of their time to make sure everything runs smoothly. Towards the end, one of the kids came over and grabbed my hand to join in. I was invited to express a reality through dance that I had never lived. It was surreal to watch a community of young people come together and dance a dance of justice and hope. Asi es la vida.
On Saturday I returned to the community center to help set up for el Dia del nino…a day reserved especially for kids. About 15 of us spent the next few hours hanging up decorations, filling balloons, setting up games, filling goodie bags, and getting the music ready. Kids from all directions started to show up once the music started blasting through the speakers. In the end there were about 150 kids and youth participating in the day’s activities. I have a TON of images from this day in my mind, but I’ll just share a few so you won’t have to read a whole novel. I worked the games throughout the day and was reminded of the fact that the kids in this neighborhood…although older than their years in many aspects, were still kids. They loved playing the various games and their excitement was contagious. After the games, we passed out cookies and milk. Many of the kids took handfuls of cookies and quickly inhaled what they had…this is when I was reminded that they face the reality of hunger every day and have developed a sense of survival. The milk that was not consumed was poured back into the pitchers for later use and the plastic cups were saved to be reused. A bit later I was asked by two girls to play tag. Through this I was reminded that we all play in the same language. A boy about 10 years old brought his sister to come and play with us; but before he let go of her hand he looked at me with solemn eyes and told me to take care of her. I was touched by the love and seriousness expressed from this young boy as he asked me to take care of his baby sister. Asi es la vida.
After a long and busy day at the community center, I went to a birthday party with Omar and his family. In Argentina, when a girl turns 15, the family throws a huge party complete with dinner, a DJ, fancy dresses, and dancing. Omar picked me up at 10pm and shortly after arriving dinner was served. People began to dance at about midnight and dessert was served at 4am. EVERYONE , young (2yrs old) and old (86 yrs. old) was dancing, conversing, eating, and enjoying the evening. I found myself judging the parents who were letting their kids stay up so late, and questioning why grandparents would want to stay up so late for a birthday party. I later reflected on how structured and time oriented our society can be and how liberating it must be to break the rules every once in while. Kids of all ages were dancing, and they had rhythm! Maybe that’s why most people who grow up in suburbia can’t dance…because bedtime was at 8pm, before dancing (if there was any dancing) got started. I don’t think either way is right or wrong, but what if we all took time to spend the whole night eating, conversing, dancing, laughing, and spending time with friends and family? I wonder if our (the US) society would be happier as a whole. Asi es la vida.
Ok, time to finish this up with the last “asi es la vida” moment. On Sunday the kids from the barrio were asked to dance the Muegra at two different locations. I sat next to the 10 year old boy I referred to two paragraphs above and we conversed throughout the ride. We talked about school, batman, airplanes, dancing, and work. This boy, like most 10 year old boys, was interested in everything from airplanes to batman yet as we passed on part of the city he exclaimed, “that’s where I work!” On the weekends him and his brother go with the family to pick up the “treasures” that others have thrown away and resell those treasures for income. This 10 year old lives two very different realities on a daily basis. Asi es la vida.
WHEW. I hope you got through all of that! I don’t have internet access and the closest internet café is about 10 min by bus, so bear with me on the communication side of things.
Thanks to everyone for the support and love!
Cristina
Asi es la vida. (Such is life). I heard this phrase many times throughout my first day at Hogar Ambrustar (the nursing home where I will be working for the next year) and thus found it an appropriate title for this new blog. During the first four days in Jose C. Paz, I have experienced and witnessed lots of “Asi es la vida” moments.
Some of the funnier “asi es la vida” moments have happened throughout the last few days as I have learned the ins and outs of my new home. My second night here I was unable to sleep and at 1:30 AM decided to heat up some milk to curb my growling stomach and hopefully get some sleep. I lit the stove and poured a large amount of milk into a small pan. I reached to grab the pan when the milk was heated and ended up spilling milk all over my already wet concrete floor (it was recently constructed and is still drying) , the wooden boards that my stove sits on, and my box of matches (thus ruining the matches). So at about 1:45 AM I was on the floor trying to clean up the milk I spilt with the one towel I had. They say there’s no use crying over spilt milk…so I laughed…and after all of that, I was finally able to fall asleep. Asi es la vida.
The next day I decided to explore the city on my own. I took a bus down town and arrived feeling pretty good about myself that I had taken the correct bus and got off at the plaza. My trip home was a little more eventful. I thought I had taken the right bus, and even asked the bus driver …I didn’t really understand his response so I just smiled and nodded and sat down. About 5 min into the trip I realized we were not going toward my house and I soon found myself on a dirt (mud) road in one of the barrios of Jose C. Paz. I asked the bus driver again if he passed by my house and again pretended to understand what he said. Eventually he told me to get off and catch another number to get home… I did understand him this time and was able to get back safely. Yet another humbling experience to let me know that I need to rely on others for something as simple as trying to get home. Asi es la vida.
Last night I again found myself unable to sleep and decided to eat some yogurt. I went to the refrigerator and pulled out my large bag of yogurt (yes, bag of yogurt) and had a sip (right out the bag!!) before going back to bed. I went to put the yogurt away and dropped the bag…all. over. the . floor. So yet again I found myself cleaning up a dairy product with the same rag as the milk off my already damp concrete floor. This time there were a few tears before the laughter. Asi es la vida.
I spent the majority of the weekend at the community center in Barrio Providencia, where I will be working for the next year. My first experiences with the community were filled with “asi es la vida” moments in the sense that what I was seeing and experiencing is reality for so many people. In reaction to these experiences, I say “asi es la vida” not with indifference but with a sense of reality and an urgency for change. My first experience with Barrio Providencia was on Friday evening through an intercambio project where kids from the local private school came to the barrio and ideally interacted and worked as a team with the kids from the barrio to organize the library in the community center. The key to this activity was to get youth of the same age with different backgrounds to work together and build commonalities. Omar (Rosy’s brother, also involved with Providencia) spoke to the youth about working together and building community before they got to work. When they finally started working, there was not much interaction between the two groups. Hopefully with time they will build community and learn that everyone has something to learn as well as something to teach. Asi es la vida.
Friday evening I returned with Omar to the community center to watch kids of all ages practice the Murga, a dance common in South America which exposes the injustices within society while carrying a sense of hope. I plan to go into more detail about this in my September newsletter, but WOW pretty much sums it up! The only instruments used in the dance are drums which carry a solid and loud beat that even I can clap to on rhythm. The dance has a beginning, middle, and end which includes singing, skits, and improv. I can’t wait to write more about this in the September newsletter. Anyways, it was awesome to watch the practice come together. Kids would show up at the door, grab a cookie to eat, and jump in to the dance. The community center is mostly run by young adults between the ages of 18 and 24. None of them are paid yet they give up a huge chunk of their time to make sure everything runs smoothly. Towards the end, one of the kids came over and grabbed my hand to join in. I was invited to express a reality through dance that I had never lived. It was surreal to watch a community of young people come together and dance a dance of justice and hope. Asi es la vida.
On Saturday I returned to the community center to help set up for el Dia del nino…a day reserved especially for kids. About 15 of us spent the next few hours hanging up decorations, filling balloons, setting up games, filling goodie bags, and getting the music ready. Kids from all directions started to show up once the music started blasting through the speakers. In the end there were about 150 kids and youth participating in the day’s activities. I have a TON of images from this day in my mind, but I’ll just share a few so you won’t have to read a whole novel. I worked the games throughout the day and was reminded of the fact that the kids in this neighborhood…although older than their years in many aspects, were still kids. They loved playing the various games and their excitement was contagious. After the games, we passed out cookies and milk. Many of the kids took handfuls of cookies and quickly inhaled what they had…this is when I was reminded that they face the reality of hunger every day and have developed a sense of survival. The milk that was not consumed was poured back into the pitchers for later use and the plastic cups were saved to be reused. A bit later I was asked by two girls to play tag. Through this I was reminded that we all play in the same language. A boy about 10 years old brought his sister to come and play with us; but before he let go of her hand he looked at me with solemn eyes and told me to take care of her. I was touched by the love and seriousness expressed from this young boy as he asked me to take care of his baby sister. Asi es la vida.
After a long and busy day at the community center, I went to a birthday party with Omar and his family. In Argentina, when a girl turns 15, the family throws a huge party complete with dinner, a DJ, fancy dresses, and dancing. Omar picked me up at 10pm and shortly after arriving dinner was served. People began to dance at about midnight and dessert was served at 4am. EVERYONE , young (2yrs old) and old (86 yrs. old) was dancing, conversing, eating, and enjoying the evening. I found myself judging the parents who were letting their kids stay up so late, and questioning why grandparents would want to stay up so late for a birthday party. I later reflected on how structured and time oriented our society can be and how liberating it must be to break the rules every once in while. Kids of all ages were dancing, and they had rhythm! Maybe that’s why most people who grow up in suburbia can’t dance…because bedtime was at 8pm, before dancing (if there was any dancing) got started. I don’t think either way is right or wrong, but what if we all took time to spend the whole night eating, conversing, dancing, laughing, and spending time with friends and family? I wonder if our (the US) society would be happier as a whole. Asi es la vida.
Ok, time to finish this up with the last “asi es la vida” moment. On Sunday the kids from the barrio were asked to dance the Muegra at two different locations. I sat next to the 10 year old boy I referred to two paragraphs above and we conversed throughout the ride. We talked about school, batman, airplanes, dancing, and work. This boy, like most 10 year old boys, was interested in everything from airplanes to batman yet as we passed on part of the city he exclaimed, “that’s where I work!” On the weekends him and his brother go with the family to pick up the “treasures” that others have thrown away and resell those treasures for income. This 10 year old lives two very different realities on a daily basis. Asi es la vida.
WHEW. I hope you got through all of that! I don’t have internet access and the closest internet café is about 10 min by bus, so bear with me on the communication side of things.
Thanks to everyone for the support and love!
Cristina
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