Editing, Disappointment, and Optimism

My weeks continue to be less busy than I like, leaving me plenty of time to enjoy books that have been on my reading list, like Super Freakonomics and Eat, Pray, Love, to catch up on back issues of Newsweek and Rolling Stone, and to reinitiate my letter writing campaign to my loved ones del norte.

Before this journey, I never really considered myself to be a writer, but since I’ve been here in ES, writing has become one of my most frequent activities. Whether it’s keeping my journal, chicken scratchy and scribbled in pencil; writing letters penned in an array of colors depending on my mood and to whom I’m writing, scrawled on banana leaf paper; emails that are short and to the point with a “this made me think of you” sentiment; or updating my blog, mostly long winded (bear with me), my writing implements—both modern and tradition—are never far from reach. The writing allows me to vent, reflect, and share this tremendous experience, but most of all it enables me to remember.

Editing

Besides that new title of tenderfoot writer I have inadvertently fallen into, I have one more label to slap upon my back: Editor of the Sustainable Agriculture/Environmental Education Program’s section in El Camino, Peace Corps El Salvador’s quarterly volunteer magazine. El Camino isn’t exactly The Economist, but is a great outlet for PCVs to express themselves, share their experience, learn from the experiences of others, and have a chuckle or two.

This past Monday, I left my community as early as my limited transport allows, 8AM, for Chalchuapa to catch the 202 into San Salvador to edit El Camino for the first time. My friend, Jilma who is a police officer and works in the capital, and I waited patiently for the third 202 to pass that actually had standing room for us. Being the blonde-haired gringa, the bus driver insisted that I sit on the engine compartment (you know the flat faced buses, with the engine on the inside) with my legs in the stairwell. Obviously I agreed to his insistence as it meant I didn’t have to try to keep my balance as the driver weaved in an out of traffic. I did still hold on for dear life seeing as the driver left the door open for ventilation…Trust me, the ride would have been unbearable with the door closed. Poor Jilma had to stand about thirty minutes until the great exodus that always occurs in Santa Ana until she could wrestle for a seat.

At about 10:30AM, Jilma got a text message from one of her coworkers that there had been an earthquake in the department of Ahuachapan and was felt all the way in Guatemala and Mexico. Naturally we both became concerned, me especially for my friend Dana who lives in Ahuachapan. Had we been stationary, we most definitely would have felt a tremor as well, but the motion of the bus prevented us from feeling a thing.

Once in the city, Jilma and I said our goodbyes and I made my way for the office. There, I got in contact with Dana almost immediately; she was on G-chat when I signed on. She told me she was bathing when the quake hit, she was very scared, it lasted about thirty seconds, and things even fell off of her walls. Thankfully no one was hurt and no structural damage occurred.

With my mind at ease about my friend’s safety, I went straight to work on putting together the magazine. I was allotted twelve pages to fill, the standard number per section. (We have four program sections, and usually a letter from the head editor, so the whole revista is about fifty pages.)

I began soliciting articles from my fellow SAg/EEs all the way back in December. Of course I put an early deadline, leaving enough wiggle room to extend the deadline twice, and allow the last-minute submissions to roll in. Granted I was also relentless at hounding my fellow volunteers to submit articles, recipes, poems, etc, but I was really pleased with the number and quality of the submissions I received.

The previous editor left me no guidance or tips on how to play the game, so the plan was for me to come into the office at the same time as another one of the sections’ editors so he could teach me the ropes. Unfortunately, he didn’t end up arriving to the office until about thirty minutes before the security guards kick us out for the night. Luckily the publishing program we use is pretty much idiot proof, and I got a hang of it without many problems. I ended up editing for about six hours that first day and only made it about six pages into our section. The whole process is definitely more time confusing than I anticipated.

Peace Corps provides lodging for us editors while we are putting together the magazine, so after a quick stop at Wendy’s for dinner (bet you didn’t think I would be eating a Spicy Baconater, now did you?), I headed to our hotel for the night. Filled with unhealthy fast food, comfortably lounging in an adorable hotel with free wireless internet and cable television, I had a very American evening. I continued my editing duties while putzing around online. I discovered how difficult it could be to edit an article, trim down the fat, clean up the language, all while maintaining the author’s style and identity. After my third article, I was starting to get the hang of it.

One completely unexpected benefit of going into the capital to edit was the free internet at the hotel. In addition to my editing duties, I got to Skype my best friend, Caitlin. Not only did I get to talk to her, I also got to see her lovely face, along with her cat, Nala. It was fun to catch up, and even better to see her.

I was up bright and early the next morning, got to take a HOT SHOWER (what a treat!), and headed to the office. I packed up all my belongings with the intent of heading back to site that very day. Again, due to my limited transport into my site, that meant I had to leave no later than 2PM from the office to catch the bus back to Chalchuapa. So, at the office before 8AM, I got to work right away. The office was chock full of distraction that day. My good friend Kat was in to use the computers and many members of the group about to leave were in and out all day because their COS (Close of Service) Conference, began the next day. This really was a damper on my productivity, but it’s always so fun with PCVs get together.

I was pretty sure I would be able to finish, but at 12:30PM, the other editor, Gabe, told me, “Why rush? PC allots two nights per editor for editing. Also, I’ve got an interview with the new CD (Country Director) at 1PM. You should sit in, and then take your time finishing up.” I hemmed and hawed a while longer, but when 1PM rolled around, I really wanted to get to sit on the CD’s interview (he is the head of all things PC El Salvador), and I would put out a better quality section with a few more hours to edit. So, I stayed another night.

Sixteen hours of editing, scrounging volunteer’s Facebook accounts for photos, and making layouts later, I have what I am proud to say is my first issue as the SAg/EE editor. The submissions are amazing, my personal favorite from my friend Katheryn—“You didn’t realize you were Salvo until…” If any of you are interested, there will be a PDF version of the magazine that I can forward your way. Just let me know. As always, the magazine is not representative of the views or intents of the US Government or Peace Corps. Neither entity is responsible and/or liable for any contents therein.

Disappointment

After a very difficult journey home, due entirely to my very limited transportation back to site (I ended up hiking thirty-five minutes under the midday sun weighed down with a backpack and several bags of groceries), I arrived just in time to attend both my women’s group and ADESCO directive meetings. As usual, I stopped by my friend and women’s group treasurer, Marina’s, house to pick her up on the way to the meeting. Immediately after I said, “Vamanos a la reunión,” she said the two words every volunteer hates to hear, “Fijese qué…” It doesn’t really have a good translation into English, but basically it means that anything said afterwards is an excuse not to do something. It’s the “it’s not you, it’s me” of Salvadoran Spanish, and Marina was breaking up with me.

Marina went on to explain that she’s no longer going to be the treasurer of La Asociación de Mujeres en Busca del Bienestar de la Comunidad, and she had a laundry list of reason why not ranging from she gets sick from worrying, her daughters are in school, to it’s too much work. I did my best to convince her otherwise, but “fijese qué” after “fijese qué” I realized my efforts were to no avail; I had lost her.

Utterly deflated, I head over to Morena’s, the vice president, house where the rest of the directive was scheduled to meet. To add insult to injury, only Morena and Elsie, the president, were present. With this I basically threw my hands up in the air and said, what now? These women and I are supposed to be hosting a demonstration of efficient stoves from Stove Team International this coming Saturday. We’re supposed to be meeting with the health promoter tomorrow to plan programs. Last week, all the women were so enthusiastic and completely ready to go. Now, I’ve lost my treasurer and I can’t convince even the directive to attend a meeting. Now I was “sick from worry”. What if people don’t show up on Saturday?

Elsie tried to reassure me that people are interested in the stoves; we just need to find some different women who are more interested in being part of the women’s group. At least the invitations to the stove demonstration have been passed out. I’ve also been walking around the community, reminding people not to miss it. I can handle the logistics of the stove project myself, but this women’s group. What am I going to do? The women asked me start it. It was a project of their own volition, not mine, and I can’t even manage to keep them interested.

Elsie and Morena are going to help me with Saturday’s demonstration and we are going to seek out new members for the women’s group directive. It’s just so difficult to find confident, strong, dedicated women. The best I can do is to continue to encourage and help in organizing. Let’s keep our fingers crossed.

Optimism

There is a long-standing Peace Corps joke that goes something like this: A pessimist sees the glass of water as half empty. An optimist sees the glass as half full. A Peace Corps Volunteer sees the glass of water and says, “I can bathe with that!”

Being a volunteer means doing what you can with what you have. Often it’s not much, sometimes it’s not anything at all, but it’s a volunteers resourcefulness, creativity, enthusiasm, and, ultimately, their optimism that change can occur that accomplishes things little by little.

Maintaining that ever-present smiling face, being that cheerleader, that Swiss Army Knife, that Mary Poppins with all the solutions in her bottomless bag, is exhausting. But, remembering that we PCVs have more resources—in the form of knowledge, networks of support, and innovation—than anyone in our community may ever have access to, we can make a difference, no matter how small. We just need to stop thinking how full the glass is, and see it for the potential it holds.

So, as I walk around my community, reminding people left and right of the stove demonstration on Saturday, I remain optimistic that they will show up, maybe an hour late, but they will show up. And with this small step of a project, we can continue forward in more projects, like latrines and home vegetable gardens. Enthusiasm is contagious, and maybe, just maybe, if I continue forth as excited as when I first arrived, someone someday may join my parade.

Special thanks go out to Marsha, Reggie, and Janet for their very special cards. As always, Marsha and Reggie made me laugh out loud, and Janet brought incessant smiles to my face. As I learned with Marsha and Reggie’s card, los Correos de El Salvador aren’t infallible. They, too, make mistakes. My card was “misplaced”, AKA fell behind a drawer in a filing cabinet, and I didn’t realize it even existed until Marsha asked if I’d received it. So, the lesson learned here is that if you send me a piece of mail and I don’t acknowledge that I’ve received it, it’s probably because I never got it. After a month, if I still make no mention, let me know you sent something. But, in the time before a month expires, please don’t ruin the surprise. You have no idea how much it brightens my day to receive surprises from home.

As always, thanks for reading. Please leave some comments, update me on your lives, I love to stay in the loop!