Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
the land of the savior
while amongst the pimps, loons, deviants, angled eyed hucksters, dangerous drunkards, and one ill tempered ex-guerrilla who carries a bedazzled machete in his armpit, one begins to wonder if God himself will come down just to reclaim his good name from this place, El Salvador, welcome.
and then the joy ran out.
Joy Bani 1925-2009
Surely, there is no shortage of people. Honest men and ill tempered degenerates come and go and the world just turns. Unique minds ponder the ephemeral nature of our existence, the mystery of it's significance; while the rest of us just want to fall in love, obtain a reasonable mortgage rate on a two story house, and produce children who won't burn it down. Sadly, it takes an event as powerful as death to balance one with the other.
I adjusted the mic, cleared my airway, I lifted my head and I looked out over those in attendance of St Josephs cathedral, site of my grandfathers funeral....My eyes crawled over saddened family, teary eyed friends, stoic clergy, and sea crazed navy vets...and then I looked down at my grandmother... . Her body formless like an old sweater, slumped in her wheel chair, under the weight of her mink coat. Her chin lifted high in the air, as her attendee dabbed the tears away from her cheeks. The crumpled grace of a proud woman. One who had been the 53 year accomplice of a thick love.
I wanted to yell,
Look here,
these people had it right,
don't let yourself forget this...
bury this in our cynical hearts...
this.
here.
right here, is what we should be celebrating in life...
don't let this fade, please please remember this, because we all need this
Surely, there is no shortage of people, all equipped with uniquely human stories. This one was about a man who took a break from work, looked out of his main st. office window , where he saw this powerfully beautiful woman floating down the sidewalk. He fell into a love so thick it spread over the remainder of their days and then over the edge and down on the lucky witnesses, the friends and family, the story tellers....
This story is about happily ever after.....
+ about a thick love.
-b
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
and this is called radiohead...can you say radiohead?
Alexander Valenzuela age 6, has only met 2 gringos in his life. In his words, the last volunteer his family hosted had brown eyes ,was old, and smelled funny.....This gringo has blue eyes, still smells funny, and is going to introduce him to radiohead.
track 1 My Iron Lung
Press play
and....Silence.
I ask him if he likes?.....nothing no response
he stares off into the distance and unleashes a massive spit bubble...I take this as a good sign
his world has flattened.
track 2 Creep
Building on my initial success(assumed), we go a little heavier....note to all kids who are raised in a gang infested country don't take well to hand signs...even those intended to rock.
track 3 Karma Police
and I narrowly avert inspiring the first suicide by a 6 year old.
need to pick up da pace...
track 4 Bodysnatchers
back to more loud noise in a language he doesn't understand...
conclusion
When I was 7 my friends older sister sat us down in front of the tv pointed to the gyrating man on the screen in the white leather suit and boldly stated "This is Axl Rose and he is f'n amazing"....and she was right......but I was more impressed by her use of the "f word"...
I think that story applies here.
in a round about way.
We proceeded to make goofy faces into mac camera until it was time for cartoons.
ride the bird,
-b
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Un Día En La Vida
20:36/09/3/2009 Verapaz, El Salvador
Peace Corps Training: midway point
1. A day in the life— part: 1 early mornings
5:30-5:35ish.... "Where the hell am I?"
I never remember…….. the roosters relentlessly crowing in the distance is a hint, but regardless I awake with the suddenness of a sweet bee sting, mentally dislodged….and completely untethered to my new reality.
“Where is my bed & why am I on a cot?”...and so on…..
It’s like in the movie Memento, where the main character has repetitive amnesia so he tattoos necessary information ie his name, location, etc… on various parts of his body.
My tattoo would read:
" Your name is Brian, you are somewhere in El Salvador, working for the peace corps, and you are probably really hungry."
5:36.....My host brother Aldo steps into my room, feed bucket and egg basket in hand. Now, technically are not supposed to help with the chores(we have busy days in training and the host families receive ample pay for hosting us here) but since my presence in their home here means Aldo is resigned to sleep in the hammock outside…..I feel a certain debt him, and I always offer to help him with his morning chore….an offer which is always accepted.
It's surprisingly cold here in the mornings. If the wind is blowing from the south the air smells of passion fruit due(mango, papaya, and orange groves), if it blows from the east it smells like a wet fart (the river of open sewage that divides Verapaz from Tepetitan).....this initial whiff serves as a "better than good" prognosticator of just how your day will unfold.
Aldo is the closest to my age(he is 24), the most inquisitive about America, and damn chatty in the morning. Our early morning chats usually(always) center around his
favorite topic: American women or gringas....
"Telle meh sobre de AHMERUCHAN girls", he loves blonds
"Aldo" I say, " I promise there is nothing interesting to say about American
Women at 5:40 in the morning, lets talk about…… breakfast"
I finish pelting the half awake/alive chickens with seed look up at the looming volcano in the distance and pray that we won’t be Pompeii(which I assume is the hope of everyone who lives in the shadow of a volcano)
I spend the rest of our time together trying to remember how to say," I hate fried eggs" in Espanol.
6:30…. Breakfast the most important meal of the day and here in El Salvador completely joyless. Its eggs. Its always eggs. The Tuesday after next it will be eggs. Dinner that night will be eggs. Such is life on a chicken farm (Eat the eggs sell the chicken)….Scrambled, fried, over easy, whatever…. 50 days later you break out in a cold sweat when you hear them hit the saucer pan…..
Coping method: I close my eyes and try to imagine I am eating anything else….this works 20% of the time every time.
7:30....I take the 518 bus out of Verapaz to the training center in San Vicente(50 minutes.) The bus's paint job and lettering resembles the magical "mystery bus" yet no one here has really heard of The Beatles, or irony. We traverse through the Salvadorian countryside on our the magical mystery bus in low gear-through miles of cane fields, over sand roads, coconut groves, through the bustling scanty towns, swerving to avoid chickens, diseased chuchos(dogs) and the occasional stray goat, bumping and humming through the ruts.
The land between Verapaz and San Vicente prime for farming...the locals use the bus system as a means to get to the fields or to bring their goods to….On the bus: the farmers -regardless of their crop- carry decorated cane knives on their person at all times….and the women, carry, bushels of avocados, fresh bread, and chickens cages all at once and all balanced securely on the irrespective heads …its freaking amazing. The men carry the knives and the women are the real heroes of the country.
More to come…..
Other:
2. Questions: Some of you asked why I was teaching sex ed and not designing a school etc… right now we are just focusing on broad basic community related activities…..As a generic priming, so we can get used to organizing community projects…. It also helps us build confidence with the community…which is very important in a Latin American community…”Confiance” is everything. The golden rule in the PC is that before people will want to know what you know, they have to know that you know what they know.(sounds dumb but makes sense trust me)
Spanish is improving...quickly.....but sometimes its frustrating being a 28 year old man with a college education and speaking at a 1st grade level...but hey its easy to be humble when everyone is laughing at/with you:)
3. I had my Immersion week last week, where I shadow an established volunteer. Her post was located one the Salv-Honduran boarder, in a town called Perquin. In the civil war Perquin was the Guerilla strong hold. Today the town’s economy is based on tourism stemming from a new war museum. It’s weird though imagine going to a US civil war museum 15 years after the Appomattox Court House. Our guide was a former Frente (rebel) general…. The first exhibit in the war museum is a missile with a polished lettering that reads Fort Benning, Ga. …he was a nice guy considering my country secretly helped the other side.
4. Next week is a huge week here….The most important election in El Salvadors history. You can read more on it here, but it could get pretty crazy here. Keep me in your thoughts.
I’ll have more when I get it☺
Love and Light
-b
Peace Corps Training: midway point
1. A day in the life— part: 1 early mornings
5:30-5:35ish.... "Where the hell am I?"
I never remember…….. the roosters relentlessly crowing in the distance is a hint, but regardless I awake with the suddenness of a sweet bee sting, mentally dislodged….and completely untethered to my new reality.
“Where is my bed & why am I on a cot?”...and so on…..
It’s like in the movie Memento, where the main character has repetitive amnesia so he tattoos necessary information ie his name, location, etc… on various parts of his body.
My tattoo would read:
" Your name is Brian, you are somewhere in El Salvador, working for the peace corps, and you are probably really hungry."
5:36.....My host brother Aldo steps into my room, feed bucket and egg basket in hand. Now, technically are not supposed to help with the chores(we have busy days in training and the host families receive ample pay for hosting us here) but since my presence in their home here means Aldo is resigned to sleep in the hammock outside…..I feel a certain debt him, and I always offer to help him with his morning chore….an offer which is always accepted.
It's surprisingly cold here in the mornings. If the wind is blowing from the south the air smells of passion fruit due(mango, papaya, and orange groves), if it blows from the east it smells like a wet fart (the river of open sewage that divides Verapaz from Tepetitan).....this initial whiff serves as a "better than good" prognosticator of just how your day will unfold.
Aldo is the closest to my age(he is 24), the most inquisitive about America, and damn chatty in the morning. Our early morning chats usually(always) center around his
favorite topic: American women or gringas....
"Telle meh sobre de AHMERUCHAN girls", he loves blonds
"Aldo" I say, " I promise there is nothing interesting to say about American
Women at 5:40 in the morning, lets talk about…… breakfast"
I finish pelting the half awake/alive chickens with seed look up at the looming volcano in the distance and pray that we won’t be Pompeii(which I assume is the hope of everyone who lives in the shadow of a volcano)
I spend the rest of our time together trying to remember how to say," I hate fried eggs" in Espanol.
6:30…. Breakfast the most important meal of the day and here in El Salvador completely joyless. Its eggs. Its always eggs. The Tuesday after next it will be eggs. Dinner that night will be eggs. Such is life on a chicken farm (Eat the eggs sell the chicken)….Scrambled, fried, over easy, whatever…. 50 days later you break out in a cold sweat when you hear them hit the saucer pan…..
Coping method: I close my eyes and try to imagine I am eating anything else….this works 20% of the time every time.
7:30....I take the 518 bus out of Verapaz to the training center in San Vicente(50 minutes.) The bus's paint job and lettering resembles the magical "mystery bus" yet no one here has really heard of The Beatles, or irony. We traverse through the Salvadorian countryside on our the magical mystery bus in low gear-through miles of cane fields, over sand roads, coconut groves, through the bustling scanty towns, swerving to avoid chickens, diseased chuchos(dogs) and the occasional stray goat, bumping and humming through the ruts.
The land between Verapaz and San Vicente prime for farming...the locals use the bus system as a means to get to the fields or to bring their goods to….On the bus: the farmers -regardless of their crop- carry decorated cane knives on their person at all times….and the women, carry, bushels of avocados, fresh bread, and chickens cages all at once and all balanced securely on the irrespective heads …its freaking amazing. The men carry the knives and the women are the real heroes of the country.
More to come…..
Other:
2. Questions: Some of you asked why I was teaching sex ed and not designing a school etc… right now we are just focusing on broad basic community related activities…..As a generic priming, so we can get used to organizing community projects…. It also helps us build confidence with the community…which is very important in a Latin American community…”Confiance” is everything. The golden rule in the PC is that before people will want to know what you know, they have to know that you know what they know.(sounds dumb but makes sense trust me)
Spanish is improving...quickly.....but sometimes its frustrating being a 28 year old man with a college education and speaking at a 1st grade level...but hey its easy to be humble when everyone is laughing at/with you:)
3. I had my Immersion week last week, where I shadow an established volunteer. Her post was located one the Salv-Honduran boarder, in a town called Perquin. In the civil war Perquin was the Guerilla strong hold. Today the town’s economy is based on tourism stemming from a new war museum. It’s weird though imagine going to a US civil war museum 15 years after the Appomattox Court House. Our guide was a former Frente (rebel) general…. The first exhibit in the war museum is a missile with a polished lettering that reads Fort Benning, Ga. …he was a nice guy considering my country secretly helped the other side.
4. Next week is a huge week here….The most important election in El Salvadors history. You can read more on it here, but it could get pretty crazy here. Keep me in your thoughts.
I’ll have more when I get it☺
Love and Light
-b
My volcano is breathing
17/2/2009 Verapaz-
Peace Corps Training: early impressions
1. El Salvador is only slightly smaller than the state of Mass, yet
it takes more than 30 hrs by car to cross it. directions to adjacent
pueblos often include the phrase, ït's just on the other side of
that volcano¨ (to which I usually reply which one "?"...bc I can see
three from my front door) ,or you may find that the bridge that used
to connect point A to point B was blown up by Guerrillas in the civil
war, way back in 1991 and has yet to be repaired...etc.....needless to
say travel here is a punta!
2. Food. It´s not that bad. If you are willing to kill it. My host
family owns the towns largest chicken farm. We have three
roosters....three miserable Satan roosters that wake me up no less
than 5 times on a good night. I went four days last week solely on
eggs and beans.....which equaled to 4 days of constipation.....all of
which inspired me to ask my host brother Aldo if they ever ate
chicken.....he responded ayudar(help)- which I had not learned at the
time-so I responded si´si´....so he walked me over to the chicken
coop....and let me say you haven't lived until you have stuck your
head in a chicken coop and inhaled....Aldo reached into the coop
grabbed the nearest hen and flicked his wrist like john elway and
released the still twitching bird. Then proceeds to hand me the next
one and say ayudar ayudar.....now at this moment: 1. you wish you
would have checked off vegetarian on your PC application, and more
importantly ....2. and you have to decide....as the sheltered
suburbanite in you is still shaking....are you going to be an uppity
gringo from the estados unidos, or are you going to assimilate into
their culture and snap this poor birds neck for dinner?........snap.
3. Service. Training is hard. Harder than i would have ever
imagined...but its good we need it. We need to fail a few times in
these guided simulations before we are scattered across the country to
help local municipals.
4. I awoke sat night in a mid slumber haze to find my stomach sliding
in one direction and the room in the opposite, all the while the
corrugated ceiling of mi casa contorted like an accordion. In the
morning I asked my host family if I had indeed encountered my first
earthquake to which they replied...No, no that was just the volcano
breathing....which I thought was a really cute way to spin an
earthquake.
5. Time goes by so slowly here....which was on of the major reasons I
did this.....To just slow my life down, think, and just experience
every day in full. I got my wish the days are months here. I will
look at my watch and it will say 3:30 and I will play a game of
basketball, go buy a mango from the market, and walk home and look
back down on my watch and it´s 3:41. I have been here a few weeks and
it feels like 8, I miss you all and think about you guys daily.
Peace Corps Training: early impressions
1. El Salvador is only slightly smaller than the state of Mass, yet
it takes more than 30 hrs by car to cross it. directions to adjacent
pueblos often include the phrase, ït's just on the other side of
that volcano¨ (to which I usually reply which one "?"...bc I can see
three from my front door) ,or you may find that the bridge that used
to connect point A to point B was blown up by Guerrillas in the civil
war, way back in 1991 and has yet to be repaired...etc.....needless to
say travel here is a punta!
2. Food. It´s not that bad. If you are willing to kill it. My host
family owns the towns largest chicken farm. We have three
roosters....three miserable Satan roosters that wake me up no less
than 5 times on a good night. I went four days last week solely on
eggs and beans.....which equaled to 4 days of constipation.....all of
which inspired me to ask my host brother Aldo if they ever ate
chicken.....he responded ayudar(help)- which I had not learned at the
time-so I responded si´si´....so he walked me over to the chicken
coop....and let me say you haven't lived until you have stuck your
head in a chicken coop and inhaled....Aldo reached into the coop
grabbed the nearest hen and flicked his wrist like john elway and
released the still twitching bird. Then proceeds to hand me the next
one and say ayudar ayudar.....now at this moment: 1. you wish you
would have checked off vegetarian on your PC application, and more
importantly ....2. and you have to decide....as the sheltered
suburbanite in you is still shaking....are you going to be an uppity
gringo from the estados unidos, or are you going to assimilate into
their culture and snap this poor birds neck for dinner?........snap.
3. Service. Training is hard. Harder than i would have ever
imagined...but its good we need it. We need to fail a few times in
these guided simulations before we are scattered across the country to
help local municipals.
4. I awoke sat night in a mid slumber haze to find my stomach sliding
in one direction and the room in the opposite, all the while the
corrugated ceiling of mi casa contorted like an accordion. In the
morning I asked my host family if I had indeed encountered my first
earthquake to which they replied...No, no that was just the volcano
breathing....which I thought was a really cute way to spin an
earthquake.
5. Time goes by so slowly here....which was on of the major reasons I
did this.....To just slow my life down, think, and just experience
every day in full. I got my wish the days are months here. I will
look at my watch and it will say 3:30 and I will play a game of
basketball, go buy a mango from the market, and walk home and look
back down on my watch and it´s 3:41. I have been here a few weeks and
it feels like 8, I miss you all and think about you guys daily.
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