Sierra en Panamá: You've Got a Long Way to Go, Girl

Hello! I have so much to update about, however I have little internet time and I must spend it all rapidly trying to submit a grant application before the deadline!!! #procrastinatorproblems

So here's a little piece I wrote for the upcoming issue of La Vaina (basically, 'The Thingamabob') the PC Panama volunteer literary magazine. Hope you enjoy. Will be in the city for mid-service med appointments next week and I'll do a big 'ol life update then :)

You've Got a Long Way to Go, Girl

My journal entries, phone calls to my parents, WhatsApp messages with fellow volunteers are full of complaints. The kids trash my porch, the adults hardly show up to meetings, people still don’t understand why I’m here, students aren’t motivated to succeed in school…and the list goes on. I realize with horror how much I sound like a person whom, because of her education level or wealth or perceived intelligence or whatever, thinks she is somehow better than those surrounding her. And this is anything, anything but the truth.

After 11 months I have hardly scratched the surface of a true understanding of my gente, what makes them tick and why they think and act like they do. On the contrary, they somehow understand me completely; often I am struck with the thought that my gente know me better than I know myself. I was paseando with Miriam, and I was in a terrible mood but making my absolute best effort to smile, chat, and pretend like everything was normal. All of a sudden Miriam asks, “Why are you so sad, Bei?” How did she do that?! Her mother Elsa comes into the room and sticks out her hand for my plate and spoon. Feeling ashamed that I forgot my bowl, I tell her thank you, but I’m not hungry today. Elsa narrows her eyes and disappears into the kitchen, returning with a perfectly small portion of rice and mustard green soup in a little bowl. How did she know this was exactly what I wanted?!

But the person who gets me more than anyone is my 11-year old host brother, Walter. I turned down the invitation to an overnight excursion with the Adventist church by pretending I had an important compromiso the next day when truthfully, I just didn’t want to go. I figured I had convinced them until Walter came by my porch as soon as they returned and asked, “Bei, really, why didn’t you go this weekend?” Another time we were relaxing around the house, and out of the blue he asks me, “Bei, if your family had a kid like Tito, would you care for him?” Tito is a severely disabled grandson who lives with my host family. I began to stumble through an answer, “Well, of course we would, but it’s different in the States…” I know that I wouldn’t be able to care for him without ever uttering a single complaint, nor make the necessary sacrifices to ensure that he was attended to by an immediate family member 24 hours a day, 365 days a year like my host family does. As I struggled to find the words to explain this, my family stared at me and in that moment it was clearer than ever that the gente see me for who I really am – someone who is selfish at heart, someone who doesn’t possess a fraction of their innate compassion and generosity. When planning charlas we say to “get down to their level”, but I disagree with this statement; I need to get UP to their level. My gente are, absolutamente, better human beings than I will ever be. I’ve got a long way to go and I am so grateful that my community has opened their hearts and let me in so that I can begin down that road.

And a few people I love!