I was just reading my blogs, and realized that I haven't updated everyone about how work is going lately. The truth is, work is not getting much different, and projects are going very, very slowly. That is how it works most of the time in the peace corps, especially in rural Honduras.
Remember the Community Supported Agriculture project I was trying to work on with the coffee cooperative in my site? Well, I kept having to push and push them, and they kept putting their answer off, so I finally discarded working with them, and have started to work on the project with my women's group. None of the women actually grow any of the fruit that they would be selling to Tegucigulpa, which makes it much more complicated for them, and a lot more work, but they are ten times more willing and motivated than the coffee farmers ever were. We have had a few meetings to discuss the details and logistics, and I finally gave the woman who is buying the fruits a go in order to start the process. It's a sure go! We won't sell our first bunch of fruits for another couple of weeks, but I am excited to see how it goes. No matter what, it will be a very good learning experience for the women, in terms of how to organize products, and work with a fixed customer (which is what they would be doing if they are able to sell to a supermarket). I also recently talked with an NGO that supports women's groups all over Honduras in terms of training, motivation, and financial support. They plan on coming down within the next month in order to talk to the women, to see if they can help us at all.
My english classes are winding down. We actually have final exams next Saturday! I think many of the kids have learned a lot, and although I'm extremely relieved to finally have my Saturdays open again, I'm a little disappointed at the thought of ending classes, and saying goodbye to so many good, sweet students.
The coffee cooperative is busy as usual. I have recently been helping them with the fair trade certification process. A big part of that is keeping accounts of the money that comes in an out of the cooperative monthly. So I plan on starting to help them with that in the future, although I know it will be a HUGE endeavour, seeing as they have a large history of money records that they've never really organized before. I also am starting to help the look more actively for market in the states, by making panthlets in english and possibly a coffee video.
These are all the current projects I'm working on. I also have some that have been milling around in my brain, but have decided not to share them with anyone until they are a sure go. I will let you know when they are more developed!
viernes, 10 de octubre de 2008
lunes, 29 de septiembre de 2008
1 year in
Yesterday was the one year anniversary of us being in site. At this time last year, I was traveling to a place I barely knew, nervous, shy, and wondering what the hell I was thinking.
Now, everytime I go away from my site, and come back, I feel like I´m coming home. The people, the environment, the life, is all so beautiful here. I absolutely love it, and it´ll be really tough to leave. But at the same time, I´m beginning to look towards the future. Excited, and ready for what lies ahead.
I miss you all, and I´ll see you in a year!
Now, everytime I go away from my site, and come back, I feel like I´m coming home. The people, the environment, the life, is all so beautiful here. I absolutely love it, and it´ll be really tough to leave. But at the same time, I´m beginning to look towards the future. Excited, and ready for what lies ahead.
I miss you all, and I´ll see you in a year!
lunes, 8 de septiembre de 2008
More stories with my parents
I wanted to write a couple more stories about when my parents were here, because I didn’t have much time before. Some highlights of their visit were:
1. Watching their plane land, then watching on the screen as they came through the door from the plane and stand in line to get their passports checked, and finally running to give them a hug, holding my tears back while my mom choked up.
2. Going with my mom (my dad was feeling a little under the weather that day) to visit the profesora, the lady that I lived with for 5 months, who is one of the most dynamic, and my favorite people in all of Agua Fría. The moment she saw my mom, she gave her a huge hug, and looked happier than ever to see her (happier than she ever has been to see me). When we went into the house, we had a good conversation (with me frantically translating everything, as she talks faster than any person I’ve ever met), which eventually led into the death penalty, and how people in Honduras were up in arms about a person who was going to be put to death that night in Texas. The pain she expressed of her people, and how much against the death penalty they were really touched my mom, and she told me later how much she respects a culture that respects life so much.
3. Visiting a wonderful woman from my town who makes some excellent bread. She left a lasting impression on my parents, being the caring, sweet and generous woman that she is. At one point, we were talking about the church, and my dad took out a rosary that had been sent to him in the mail for free, but looked really nice. She looked at it admiringly and instantly, my mom told me to tell her that they wanted to give it to her. Her eyes lit up when my dad handed it to her. I know that was a moment neither of them would ever forget. A couple weeks later, when I was at her house for the funeral that I talked about in my last blog, I saw her take out that same rosary while they were praying for the deceased baby.
4. Watching my mom, who hates coffee with a passion (bad luck, coming to a country where it’s custom to drink coffee at least 3 times a day), run over to the side of the house while no one was watching to dump out the unwanted coffee they had given her. A practice that I, in fact have gotten pretty used to, especially when given more than I can bear to eat.
5. When my parents and I went down to the house of a friend who wasn’t there, but where her kids and tons of others had curiously gathered around to see who these strange people were. My parents took tons of pictures of them, and they kept asking for more and more, getting excited each time we clicked the button. My parents were also having the time of their lives taking the pictures.
6. When my dad asked to take a picture of me and my counterpart, Isai. A picture I will cherish forever, mainly because in any other circumstance, I would never ask him for such a thing.
7. The first time someone mentioned that my parents were ¨gorditos¨ (literally meaning little fat person, but something they freely say to anyone who isn’t as skinny as a flagpole). I had no idea what to say to them, trying to quickly change the translation. My mother demanded to know what the woman had just said, seeing the look on my face. Not being quick enough to make something up, I just told her the truth, saying it wasn’t an insult, just a term of endearment here. She didn’t take it as that. My father either, and the two of them brought it up every once and a while since then throughout the trip, slightly offended.
8. When my parents met Ada, one of the poorest women I know, but extremely generous with what she does have, and a very special friend of mine. She is humble, but still very outgoing with every one, despite their race, sex, or social standing. I loved being able to introduce her and her kids to my parents
9. Going to a prayer event that had been going on all day, and was just finishing when we got there. The women had been praying since 5 in the morning for the soul of a deceased woman who had died that day a year ago. They prayed 5 rosaries throughout the course of the day, and served lunch and coffee and bread in the afternoon. This is a normal custom, something that I have been to various times, and I loved being able to share it with them.
10. Cooking typical and delicious food for my parents
11. Watching when my dad first started driving with the crazy Hondurans, as he carefully passed small cars only on long open stretches, slightly nervous the entire time. By the end of the trip, my mom and I had given him the nickname ¨Honduran,¨ because he was driving just like one. Even after they got back, my mom told me that he still acted a little crazy on the roads once and a while!
12.Watching my parents reaction every time I jokingly mentioned that I was going to marry a Honduran and stay in Honduras forever
13.Going to the house of the family I stayed with during training. This family is like my Honduran family. I love them, and they have always taken good care of me. I loved getting the chance to introduce them to my parents.
14.Teaching my classes on the weekends with my parents there. Teaching the kids here brings me such an overwhelming joy that I don’t get from anything else, and I loved being able to do it with my parents there, although they didn’t understand a word I said to my kids. But they still recognized the relationship that I had with them, and admired the love and respect the kids had for me.
1. Watching their plane land, then watching on the screen as they came through the door from the plane and stand in line to get their passports checked, and finally running to give them a hug, holding my tears back while my mom choked up.
2. Going with my mom (my dad was feeling a little under the weather that day) to visit the profesora, the lady that I lived with for 5 months, who is one of the most dynamic, and my favorite people in all of Agua Fría. The moment she saw my mom, she gave her a huge hug, and looked happier than ever to see her (happier than she ever has been to see me). When we went into the house, we had a good conversation (with me frantically translating everything, as she talks faster than any person I’ve ever met), which eventually led into the death penalty, and how people in Honduras were up in arms about a person who was going to be put to death that night in Texas. The pain she expressed of her people, and how much against the death penalty they were really touched my mom, and she told me later how much she respects a culture that respects life so much.
3. Visiting a wonderful woman from my town who makes some excellent bread. She left a lasting impression on my parents, being the caring, sweet and generous woman that she is. At one point, we were talking about the church, and my dad took out a rosary that had been sent to him in the mail for free, but looked really nice. She looked at it admiringly and instantly, my mom told me to tell her that they wanted to give it to her. Her eyes lit up when my dad handed it to her. I know that was a moment neither of them would ever forget. A couple weeks later, when I was at her house for the funeral that I talked about in my last blog, I saw her take out that same rosary while they were praying for the deceased baby.
4. Watching my mom, who hates coffee with a passion (bad luck, coming to a country where it’s custom to drink coffee at least 3 times a day), run over to the side of the house while no one was watching to dump out the unwanted coffee they had given her. A practice that I, in fact have gotten pretty used to, especially when given more than I can bear to eat.
5. When my parents and I went down to the house of a friend who wasn’t there, but where her kids and tons of others had curiously gathered around to see who these strange people were. My parents took tons of pictures of them, and they kept asking for more and more, getting excited each time we clicked the button. My parents were also having the time of their lives taking the pictures.
6. When my dad asked to take a picture of me and my counterpart, Isai. A picture I will cherish forever, mainly because in any other circumstance, I would never ask him for such a thing.
7. The first time someone mentioned that my parents were ¨gorditos¨ (literally meaning little fat person, but something they freely say to anyone who isn’t as skinny as a flagpole). I had no idea what to say to them, trying to quickly change the translation. My mother demanded to know what the woman had just said, seeing the look on my face. Not being quick enough to make something up, I just told her the truth, saying it wasn’t an insult, just a term of endearment here. She didn’t take it as that. My father either, and the two of them brought it up every once and a while since then throughout the trip, slightly offended.
8. When my parents met Ada, one of the poorest women I know, but extremely generous with what she does have, and a very special friend of mine. She is humble, but still very outgoing with every one, despite their race, sex, or social standing. I loved being able to introduce her and her kids to my parents
9. Going to a prayer event that had been going on all day, and was just finishing when we got there. The women had been praying since 5 in the morning for the soul of a deceased woman who had died that day a year ago. They prayed 5 rosaries throughout the course of the day, and served lunch and coffee and bread in the afternoon. This is a normal custom, something that I have been to various times, and I loved being able to share it with them.
10. Cooking typical and delicious food for my parents
11. Watching when my dad first started driving with the crazy Hondurans, as he carefully passed small cars only on long open stretches, slightly nervous the entire time. By the end of the trip, my mom and I had given him the nickname ¨Honduran,¨ because he was driving just like one. Even after they got back, my mom told me that he still acted a little crazy on the roads once and a while!
12.Watching my parents reaction every time I jokingly mentioned that I was going to marry a Honduran and stay in Honduras forever
13.Going to the house of the family I stayed with during training. This family is like my Honduran family. I love them, and they have always taken good care of me. I loved getting the chance to introduce them to my parents.
14.Teaching my classes on the weekends with my parents there. Teaching the kids here brings me such an overwhelming joy that I don’t get from anything else, and I loved being able to do it with my parents there, although they didn’t understand a word I said to my kids. But they still recognized the relationship that I had with them, and admired the love and respect the kids had for me.
martes, 26 de agosto de 2008
The funeral
This morning, I was woken up by two little girls in my town calling my name softly outside my door. This is not abnormal, and I was extremely tired, so I rolled over, wanting to go back to sleep and just ignore them. But something inside me told me I should go out there. So I did. When I opened the door, I saw two little girls, cousins, looking up at me. The smaller one began speaking to me rapidly, and I had just woken up, so what she was telling me didn’t really register at first. When I then figured out what she was saying, I realized that her baby brother, who was born yesterday at 1 in the afternoon, 2 months early, had died. They wanted me to go and take a picture, so they could have a reminder of her baby brother who had barely lived 4 hours, which she had never been able to meet.
I ran into my room to change, and in a couple minutes was ready with my camera, and began walking towards the house with them. On the way there, I kept asking questions to the little girls to keep my mind off the horrific event and to keep from crying. When I got to the house, I saw the grandmother, whose cheeks were stained with tears, and the mother, and gave them both hugs. The mother actually looked surprisingly well, as if she hadn’t been crying at all.
Knowing how easily I cry, I hoped and prayed as I walked toward the room where they had baby that I wouldn’t burst out into tears. When I saw the baby, he looked like a normal, healthy baby who was just sleeping. For a split second, I thought he might actually wake up any second. I couldn’t help it, and even with all the kids gathered around me waiting to see my reaction, tears filled up in my eyes as I tried with all my might to hold them back. I quietly took 3 or 4 pictures of the baby, hoping I wouldn’t have them in my camera too long, knowing that it would kill me to look at them every time I ran through my pictures.
After taking the pictures, I sat down and quietly observed as the other mourners came to see the baby. I was surprised and slightly confused by the reactions of everyone. Almost none of the women who went to see the baby seemed to be bothered at all by the sight of him. Most of them, actually, as they approached the baby smiled and whispered ¨oh, he would have been so cute!¨, as if he were still alive. As I watched everyone come and go, I sat in awe and confusion by the reactions of all the people. So many would say to the mother, ¨well, that’s the way the Lord wanted it.¨ And just accepted it as one of the many pains a person has to endure in life. And almost no one went up to console the mother, rather would ask her questions such as ¨so, when was he born?¨ then, ¨When did he die?¨ and right into ¨I think it might rain today.¨
I think one thing that hurts the most is how something that is viewed as such a horrible pain to go through in the States, is so common here that most people don’t even see it as a very big deal. However, I have also noticed that people seemed to generally take deaths much more easily here than in the States. It may be because the majority believes that if the person was good, he or she is in heaven right now and there’s no reason to cry over that. They also very readily accept such a painful event as God’s will. I still don’t know if this is naivety or wisdom, but I know that I’m jealous of such faith and strength to be able to get through something like that with out wanting to give up or turn your back on everything.
I ran into my room to change, and in a couple minutes was ready with my camera, and began walking towards the house with them. On the way there, I kept asking questions to the little girls to keep my mind off the horrific event and to keep from crying. When I got to the house, I saw the grandmother, whose cheeks were stained with tears, and the mother, and gave them both hugs. The mother actually looked surprisingly well, as if she hadn’t been crying at all.
Knowing how easily I cry, I hoped and prayed as I walked toward the room where they had baby that I wouldn’t burst out into tears. When I saw the baby, he looked like a normal, healthy baby who was just sleeping. For a split second, I thought he might actually wake up any second. I couldn’t help it, and even with all the kids gathered around me waiting to see my reaction, tears filled up in my eyes as I tried with all my might to hold them back. I quietly took 3 or 4 pictures of the baby, hoping I wouldn’t have them in my camera too long, knowing that it would kill me to look at them every time I ran through my pictures.
After taking the pictures, I sat down and quietly observed as the other mourners came to see the baby. I was surprised and slightly confused by the reactions of everyone. Almost none of the women who went to see the baby seemed to be bothered at all by the sight of him. Most of them, actually, as they approached the baby smiled and whispered ¨oh, he would have been so cute!¨, as if he were still alive. As I watched everyone come and go, I sat in awe and confusion by the reactions of all the people. So many would say to the mother, ¨well, that’s the way the Lord wanted it.¨ And just accepted it as one of the many pains a person has to endure in life. And almost no one went up to console the mother, rather would ask her questions such as ¨so, when was he born?¨ then, ¨When did he die?¨ and right into ¨I think it might rain today.¨
I think one thing that hurts the most is how something that is viewed as such a horrible pain to go through in the States, is so common here that most people don’t even see it as a very big deal. However, I have also noticed that people seemed to generally take deaths much more easily here than in the States. It may be because the majority believes that if the person was good, he or she is in heaven right now and there’s no reason to cry over that. They also very readily accept such a painful event as God’s will. I still don’t know if this is naivety or wisdom, but I know that I’m jealous of such faith and strength to be able to get through something like that with out wanting to give up or turn your back on everything.
lunes, 18 de agosto de 2008
A car story
My parents were here all week, and they just left this weekend. What a joy it was to have them here, and to be able to share all my experiences with them, and what I´ve been experiencing for the past year.
When I first saw them in the airport, they both came running up to me to give me a big hug, and my mom almost started crying. I was so excited to see them, and even more excited that I was about to share my new life with them. I was so excited to get up the mountain the next morning, I had to keep myself from yelling at my dad to go up the hill faster (they rented a car).
Well, lucky us, while we were inching up the awful road up to my site, the car all of a sudden stopped working. It started just fine, but wouldn´t accelerate. I looked back at my mom, and for the first time in the trip, she had a look of sheer horror on her face. We were in the middle of the mountain, with no houses anywhere near us, and no people in sight. Luckily, they had me. I quickly got out my phone, and called a friend of mine from my town who knows quite a bit about cars, and asked him what to do. He told me I had to go on foot to the next town (about a 45 minute walk) and find a mechanic.
So I did. I headed off alone, and left my parents to guard the car. Alone and helpless, not able to speak a word of spanish. I raced in to look for a mechanic, and after a lot of walking, waiting, and arguing with the mechanic after finally finding him (he was hesitant to come help), I finally got in his car and drove with him out towards where I had left my parents. When we got to the main road, and were about to turn down to go find them, we ran into them right there. Apparantly, just as suddenly as it had stopped, the car started working again while I was gone. I asked the mechanic to look over the car just in case, and thanked him for his help and asked him if we owed him anything. With a little wink, he said to me ¨just your number.¨ Kind of smooth, and more impressive than most Honduran men. But I politely refused anyway.
After this little dilemma, we got to my town later than I had hoped, but still with plenty of energy and joy because we were all together! More stories later to come.....
When I first saw them in the airport, they both came running up to me to give me a big hug, and my mom almost started crying. I was so excited to see them, and even more excited that I was about to share my new life with them. I was so excited to get up the mountain the next morning, I had to keep myself from yelling at my dad to go up the hill faster (they rented a car).
Well, lucky us, while we were inching up the awful road up to my site, the car all of a sudden stopped working. It started just fine, but wouldn´t accelerate. I looked back at my mom, and for the first time in the trip, she had a look of sheer horror on her face. We were in the middle of the mountain, with no houses anywhere near us, and no people in sight. Luckily, they had me. I quickly got out my phone, and called a friend of mine from my town who knows quite a bit about cars, and asked him what to do. He told me I had to go on foot to the next town (about a 45 minute walk) and find a mechanic.
So I did. I headed off alone, and left my parents to guard the car. Alone and helpless, not able to speak a word of spanish. I raced in to look for a mechanic, and after a lot of walking, waiting, and arguing with the mechanic after finally finding him (he was hesitant to come help), I finally got in his car and drove with him out towards where I had left my parents. When we got to the main road, and were about to turn down to go find them, we ran into them right there. Apparantly, just as suddenly as it had stopped, the car started working again while I was gone. I asked the mechanic to look over the car just in case, and thanked him for his help and asked him if we owed him anything. With a little wink, he said to me ¨just your number.¨ Kind of smooth, and more impressive than most Honduran men. But I politely refused anyway.
After this little dilemma, we got to my town later than I had hoped, but still with plenty of energy and joy because we were all together! More stories later to come.....
martes, 5 de agosto de 2008
San Marcos
My first experience actually selling the jam we made with the ladies was incredible. We went to a nice town called San Marcos during their town fair (always a big event in Honduras) to sell the jelly and wine (made from starfruit.....mmhhhh, mmhhh!)
I was more impressed with them than I ever have been with any salesman I've met. The minute we got there, the women were on a mission to sell this delicious jelly they had made just a day earlier. We didn't actually have a real post paid for, because that would have cost way too much, and seeing as we are just starting out, we couldn't afford the price. So, what we (or should I say "they") did instead was announce the sale of our jellies to the fellow coffee producers who were there at the event, then proceeded to run around the streets, knock on doors, and push the jelly into people's faces until they sold them all.
I was actually completely taken aback. Two of the women that had gone were very foreward and outgoing, and the third was a little quieter. But by the end of the day, even she was going up to random people on the streets, convincing them of how delicious our jelly is, and how it's "vale la pena" (or worth it) to buy a little. I, however, ran away to go to the bank for a while and print out more labels, as we had run out of them. I was making excuses to myself saying "it's really them who should be selling the jelly, not me" or "it's important that I print off these labels, although we sold the first half without them." But the truth is, I was scared. I've always hated selling things, since I was a girl scout in elementary school. And I didn't have the motivation or the courage to go around selling jelly at the time, either.
These women, on the other hand, had enthusiasm, talent, and determination, and God knows who gave them all that motivation, because I sure didn't. Instead, I ran away and hoped they would get the work done while I was gone. And when I got back, to my surprise, they had. In 2 short hours, they had sold 10 pounds worth of jelly and 10 bottles of wine. Not bad for a first day on the job. Not bad at all.
There have been times when I've worried about these women, and the lack of organization they have. But they've really taken this idea and run with it. They've come to accept the cooperative as their own, so much that they even forget that I formed it for them. And that's exactly how I like it. Even if I get no credit in the end, at least they feel proud of something that they created. Which they really did. All I did was round them up and put them in a room together. From there, they did all the talking and all the work!
I was more impressed with them than I ever have been with any salesman I've met. The minute we got there, the women were on a mission to sell this delicious jelly they had made just a day earlier. We didn't actually have a real post paid for, because that would have cost way too much, and seeing as we are just starting out, we couldn't afford the price. So, what we (or should I say "they") did instead was announce the sale of our jellies to the fellow coffee producers who were there at the event, then proceeded to run around the streets, knock on doors, and push the jelly into people's faces until they sold them all.
I was actually completely taken aback. Two of the women that had gone were very foreward and outgoing, and the third was a little quieter. But by the end of the day, even she was going up to random people on the streets, convincing them of how delicious our jelly is, and how it's "vale la pena" (or worth it) to buy a little. I, however, ran away to go to the bank for a while and print out more labels, as we had run out of them. I was making excuses to myself saying "it's really them who should be selling the jelly, not me" or "it's important that I print off these labels, although we sold the first half without them." But the truth is, I was scared. I've always hated selling things, since I was a girl scout in elementary school. And I didn't have the motivation or the courage to go around selling jelly at the time, either.
These women, on the other hand, had enthusiasm, talent, and determination, and God knows who gave them all that motivation, because I sure didn't. Instead, I ran away and hoped they would get the work done while I was gone. And when I got back, to my surprise, they had. In 2 short hours, they had sold 10 pounds worth of jelly and 10 bottles of wine. Not bad for a first day on the job. Not bad at all.
There have been times when I've worried about these women, and the lack of organization they have. But they've really taken this idea and run with it. They've come to accept the cooperative as their own, so much that they even forget that I formed it for them. And that's exactly how I like it. Even if I get no credit in the end, at least they feel proud of something that they created. Which they really did. All I did was round them up and put them in a room together. From there, they did all the talking and all the work!
lunes, 7 de julio de 2008
How to make macaroni and cheese
This title might seem rather strange to you. "Macaroni and cheese?" you might ask yourself, "But everyone knows how to make macaroni and cheese." Well, perhaps all Americans know how to make good ole mac and cheese, but come down here, and no one even knows how to open the box.
This took me by surprise when I first got down here. So many things that we know how to do, things that we take for granted, they have no idea how to do where I live. It really hit me when I gave my first computer class. The little girl walked into the room, and I told her to turn on the computer, and she just looked at me blankly. I thought she was just being stubborn at first and refusing to do it, but quickly realized that she had no idea how to turn the thing on. I was sort of taken aback. I had never even thought of the fact that she wouldn't even know how to turn it on, because she had never even seen a computer in her life.
Another example is the lack of facts that they know, that mostly comes from the lack of a good education. Many times, people would ask me if Spain was close to the US. I would kindly tell them that it wasn't anywhere near, but to be honest, in the back of my mind would sort of think how rediculous it was that they didn't know such a simple fact that I've always known and taken for granted.
I was completely humbled the other day when I asked a man in my site how to saddle my horse (yes, I bought a horse. His name, translated into english, is Champion). I took the horse to him and told him, "please help me. I have no idea how to do this." He, with a little smirk on his face, agreed and began patiently teaching me how to put the saddle on. A few of his kids, all students of mine, were sitting around watching the event, obviously amused by my total lack of knowledge in the area of horses. Each time I made a little mistake (I will admit, it was amusing), they would start cracking up. They especially enjoyed watching me put the bridle on, which is complicated, because there's a part that you have to force into the mouth of the horse. This was something that took me a while. I have a small fear of touching the mouths of animals that could potentially bite me. But I finally did it, after about 5 tries, and a chorus of laughter coming from the kids and the dad each time.
This was a very humbling experience for me. I realized that these people have grown up surrounded by horses. Just like I've grown up having geography facts fed to me. Saddling a horse is something that they take for granted, and have always known to do, so when they see someone who has no idea how to do it, they find it almost shocking. Just like when I meet someone who doesn't know where Spain is, I find it slightly shocking. They are very intelligent, but in different ways. Obviously they can't help the fact that they were never taught in school where Spain is, and I can't help the fact that I never grew up around horses. That's why I'm here. To learn from what they know, and to teach them what I know. Even if it's something as simple as how to saddle a horse.
This took me by surprise when I first got down here. So many things that we know how to do, things that we take for granted, they have no idea how to do where I live. It really hit me when I gave my first computer class. The little girl walked into the room, and I told her to turn on the computer, and she just looked at me blankly. I thought she was just being stubborn at first and refusing to do it, but quickly realized that she had no idea how to turn the thing on. I was sort of taken aback. I had never even thought of the fact that she wouldn't even know how to turn it on, because she had never even seen a computer in her life.
Another example is the lack of facts that they know, that mostly comes from the lack of a good education. Many times, people would ask me if Spain was close to the US. I would kindly tell them that it wasn't anywhere near, but to be honest, in the back of my mind would sort of think how rediculous it was that they didn't know such a simple fact that I've always known and taken for granted.
I was completely humbled the other day when I asked a man in my site how to saddle my horse (yes, I bought a horse. His name, translated into english, is Champion). I took the horse to him and told him, "please help me. I have no idea how to do this." He, with a little smirk on his face, agreed and began patiently teaching me how to put the saddle on. A few of his kids, all students of mine, were sitting around watching the event, obviously amused by my total lack of knowledge in the area of horses. Each time I made a little mistake (I will admit, it was amusing), they would start cracking up. They especially enjoyed watching me put the bridle on, which is complicated, because there's a part that you have to force into the mouth of the horse. This was something that took me a while. I have a small fear of touching the mouths of animals that could potentially bite me. But I finally did it, after about 5 tries, and a chorus of laughter coming from the kids and the dad each time.
This was a very humbling experience for me. I realized that these people have grown up surrounded by horses. Just like I've grown up having geography facts fed to me. Saddling a horse is something that they take for granted, and have always known to do, so when they see someone who has no idea how to do it, they find it almost shocking. Just like when I meet someone who doesn't know where Spain is, I find it slightly shocking. They are very intelligent, but in different ways. Obviously they can't help the fact that they were never taught in school where Spain is, and I can't help the fact that I never grew up around horses. That's why I'm here. To learn from what they know, and to teach them what I know. Even if it's something as simple as how to saddle a horse.
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