Lean on me

I’ve been in many situations, both at home and abroad, where there has been no support network or no one trustworthy to confide in. In these circumstances, I’ve seen how the mental and emotional health of my peers and myself are dramatically affected, especially when faced with culture shock. When I returned to the States after studying abroad in China for a year, it was extremely difficult for me to readjust to my home and native culture. I felt completely lost. Expecting my friends and family to be exactly the same as they had been when I left home, I was surprised and hurt to find that they had carried on with life without me. I was unable to connect to them and, because my time abroad had changed my world outlook and interests, I discovered that I could not find joy in activities that I once participated in regularly. I felt so distant and disconnected from everything and, to make matters worse, I had no one who could truly understand what I was going through. As a result, it took me 4-6 months to feel comfortable with myself and feel like I truly belonged home again.

When I arrived in Lima to begin training as a PCV, I was worried I was going to have to face a similar form of isolation and confusion as I adapted to life in Peru. I learned from my time in China that it is essential to have someone who you can talk to, someone who can understand what you’re going through, who is willing to be patient and listen, and can empathize and give you relevant and meaningful advice when needed. So, I was extremely relieved to find that the Peace Corps provided a Peer Support Network. The Peer Support Network (PSN), is a committee of PCVs led by the Peace Corps medical staff. Each PSN member serves for the entire duration of their Peace Corps service is in charge of protecting the emotional and mental health of the PCVs working within their region. They call each PCV at least once a month to check in on them, lead workshops in regards to stress management, emotional health, and mental well being, give advice and emotional support when needed, and also refer struggling PCVs to physicians and other Peace Corps staff members if medical or security risks arise.

Knowing firsthand how important it is to have a support network and how difficult it is to adapt to a new, foreign environment, my interest in the PSN grew as I began to work in my own site. For my own personal enjoyment and sanity, I found that I was already performing many of the basic duties of a PSN member. Every week, I call at least one PCV in my Peru 20 group to see how they’re doing and listen to whatever difficulties they’re encountering. In addition, when I travel to regional meetings, I always send letters to volunteers and to give them whatever encouragement I can. In addition, I have a natural interest in mental emotional health stemming from my time at college. I should also mention that, prior to arriving in Peru, I worked informally in many counseling jobs in my university. During my last two years in college, I joined Greek life and became the Vice President of Risk Management for my sorority. As a result, I underwent a lot of alcohol awareness and mental and emotional health training. Due to the nature of my school, I found that the greatest risk facing our community was stress, depression, and low self-esteem. As a result, I became an informal counselor for my sorority. I helped my sisters through daily problems such as breakups, finals, and family issues, as well as serious cases such as eating disorders and cutting. In the later case, I worked closely with the campus health center and psychological services to bring help to my sorority sisters and increase awareness of mental and emotional health within our community. In order to help increase healthy behavior and health awareness amongst my community, I also underwent training to become a campus sexual assault advisor. I was trained to recognize signs of sexual abuse and predator behavior, address issues regarding sexuality and gender identity crisis, and listen to both sexual assault survivors and witnesses and help them seek help and healing.

Despite the serious nature of this kind of work, I found that I truly loved and enjoyed acting as a counselor. So, it’s not surprising that eventually the light bulb went off: I should apply to be a PSN member. When the new round of applications were sent out, I decided to fill out the form and turn it in. Coincidentally, the application was given to me via USB drive when I was stranded in Tantará (see blog post “There’s no AAA in Peru”), so I had LOTS of down time to fill it out. I’m happy to say that after a month of waiting, I was chosen as the PSN representative for Huancavelica.

For the past couple of days, I’ve been in Lima to be sworn in to the PSN and receive training. I’ve reviewed PSN bylaws and ammendments, attended active listening, sexual abuse, alcoholism, and depression awareness workshops, proposed changes to future outreaches and trainings to new volunteers, received advice from doctors and psychologists, learned about coping strategies and grief counseling, and elected new executive committe memembers (by the way, you’re reading the words of the newly chosen Orientation Leader). By the end of the four days, I found myself exhaused, but eager and excited for the work ahead. Being a PSN representative is secondary to fulfilling the roles of a PCV, but nonetheless it is a demanding and important work. Oddly, I was reminded of this fact by a friend of mine back in the States and a post he put on Facebook:

"You know the people that are the strongest are usually the most sensitive? Did you know the people who exhibit the most kindness are the first to get mistreated? Did you know the one who takes care of others all the time are usually the ones who need it the most? Did you know the 3 hardest things to say are: “I love you,” “I'm sorry,” and “Help me?” Sometimes just because a person looks happy, you have to look past their smile and see how much pain they may be in."

Us PCVs are an incredibly strong and resilient group of people, but that still doesn’t mean we don’t need help. We go through an incredible amount of stress as well as incredible jumps between emotional highs and lows on a daily basis. When we fail, our failures seem huge. Unfortunately, when we succeed, the success is slow coming and often seems meager. Very rarely to PCVs give themselves positive reinforcement, although we most certainly deserve it. Rather than feel pride in what we’re doing, believe it or not the most common feeling we have is guilt: guilt over leaving our family and friends, of not being able to be there for others, for taking time for ourselves instead of constantly giving it to those in our community, for neglecting schooling and employment in the States…the list goes on and on. Yes, PCVs are strong, but they most certainly need help. I’m proud to say that this year we have an amazing group of volunteers who are committed to providing PCVs the emotional help they need. They are extremely talented, caring, and empathetic, and there is very little they wouldn’t do for their peers. I am so excited to work with them in the future and thanks to them I’m learning how much of a privilege it is to truly serve. 

Finding my inner Rocky

Call me crazy, but I’ve always wanted to run a half marathon. Back in the States, I would run in 5K races, but never had the chance to run in any serious long-distance race. That may be because, truth be told, I do not like running. That’s right. I find little joy in running, jogging, sprinting, or any variation thereof. I find that going for a run is boring, tiresome, and often times painful. Although I love to work out, I prefer my cardio to come either in the form of biking, kick boxing, or heavy weight lifting. So why do I like races? I don’t know…there’s just something about running outside with a group of people, adrenaline flowing, in a competitive atmosphere. I like crossing the finish line and seeing that my time has gotten better, that I’m getting stronger, and that I’m gradually running faster. So, don’t ask me why, but one day I decided I wanted to run a half-marathon, just because I could.

My chance came, strangely enough, here in Peru. During a regional meeting in Ica, Taylor, a running-enthusiast PCV, announced that Movistar, a Peruvian cell phone company, was hosting a 10K, half-marathon, and full marathon race in Lima in May. She thought it would be fun to form a PCV team and enter the race together. Well, why not? At this point, it was sometime around late January or early February, which is more or less the peak of rainy season in my site. I had nothing to do and, since half of the town was gone, it was unlikely that my schedule was going to change much. What could be a better and healthier way to fill my time than train for a 13-mile race?

If you look online, you can find all sorts of training programs for half-marathon and full marathon runners. There are lots of little timetables that show you how many months out you should begin training, how many times per week you should run, how far and how long you should run each time, what sorts of cross training you can do to boost your endurance, etc. Unfortunately, I do not have the luxury of following those kinds of training program. I live in the middle of nowhere, with no paved or marked roads, at high altitude, in the middle of the rainy season. “Training” was sort of a loose term, given the circumstances. My site mate and fellow PCV, Jeannie, assured me that after the 4^th mile in a half-marathon “adrenaline just takes over and you run the rest of the 9 miles like it’s nothing.” I say that’s bullshit (side note: Jeannie was also a college rugby player and swimmer, so there’s a smidge of difference between our levels of athleticism). I knew that even though I couldn’t follow a strict training program, I most certainly did have to train. The question was, how was I going to do it?

Of course, running has to be included in your training in some form or another. This was a problem, since all of Aurahuá’s roads are dirt roads that thread along the mountains. Choosing a running path that was not a) purely uphill and downhill, b) not covered in rocks and potholes, and c) not a giant mud pit wasn’t exactly easy. Eventually I chose my path: the road to a satellite town called Percoyá which, according to local “maps,” was 5K away from the center of town. There are no road markers or really any way to measure distance, so I had to measure my running based on time alone. Knowing that an average runner needs 2+ hours to run a half-marathon, I created a long running playlist on my iPod. Every time I ran, I tried to run for one more song. Motivating myself to run at the crack of dawn in the rainy season and at high altitude wasn’t easy. Every time I ran, I thought I was going to die. Literally. My chest would clench, my throat would go raw, my heart would practically burst out of my ribcage, and my lungs turned to fire. This is what a heart attack feels like, I’d think, And if I collapse and die out here, there’s no cell phone service and it’s a 7-hour drive to the nearest hospital. Fortunately, I had other ways to motivate myself. Elizabeth, a nurse technician at the health center, was a running aficionado and got quite excited when I told her I needed to train for a race. She’d wake up and go running at 6:00AM with me, happily jogging along while I wheezed and puffed. Pretty soon, I got a reputation: I was that crazy white chick who ran to Percoyá. Soon the tall tales grew:

“Oh, yea Lyndsey? Yea I hear she runs every day!”

“Well I hear she runs all the way to Chancahuasi, which is more than 10K away! Then she runs back!”

“I hear she never walks.”

My running became the topic of many a conversation, at home and in the street. Over dinner, my host father would beam proudly at my newest running accomplishments and ask me my latest times.

Me: “Well, on average it takes me half and hour to get to Percoyá.”

Teodocio, laughing: “Half an hour! Hell, I walk to Percoyá in half an hour!”

Me, eyeing his short, stout little body with skepticism written all over my face: “Teodocio, do you own a wrist watch?”

Teodocio: “No.”

Me: “Cell phone?”

Teodocio: “No.”

Me, teeth clenched with forced composure: “Then how do you know it takes you thirty minutes to arrive at Percoyá?”

Teodocio: “Been doing it all my life!”

Me: “…how very nice for you.”

The rain was a real drag on my running, sometimes quite literally. The road would turn to slop and I’d find myself squishing and slurping up the roads, trying not to slip and fall flat on my face or get stuck in the muck. When I returned home, I imagine I looked something like The Swamp Thing. Again, this caused a lot of comments:

Old woman: “Eh, missy! Where are you coming from?”

Me, sitting on the curb, flicking mud off of my pants, face, and shoes: “Percoyá.”

Old woman: “Ooooh…did you take a motorcycle up there?”

Me: “No.”

Old woman: “Oh…” looks me up and down, “So you must have run there, huh?”

Me, looking at myself covered in mud: “Gee, what was your first guess?”

Thankfully, once the weather got better and the rain stopped, the soccer field stopped being a swamp and turned into prime running grounds. Although it’s kind of boring to run around and around in a circle, the ground is flatter and better suited for long runs. When I’m running on fumes, it’s nice to not have to worry about rocks, uneven ground, and cow poop. Once a week, I’d stroll over to the soccer grounds, play a Game of Thrones audiobook on my iPod, and run for an hour or more.

Most people will tell you that you shouldn’t run every day. I know, I know. There are those (crazy) people out there that do it and live to tell the tale. I am not one of those. Generally speaking, it is best to run 2-3 days a week and do some sort of cross-training on the “off” days. My cross training consisted of Insanity workouts. I’d wake up at 5:30 and crawl out of bed, whip out my yoga mat, and frantically try to keep up as Shaun T beat the crap out of my body. I’d do push up jacks, tuck jumps, mummy kicks, and God knows what else from anywhere between 35-55 minutes. My host family actually approached me about it, quite concerned. My room is over their store, so whenever I did my exercises they’d hear this mysterious banging and thumping from the second floor. They thought I was destroying the furniture in some sort of fit of rage. Well, besides Insanity, I’ve found other ways to cross train. I use P90X and, thanks to some inspiration from an Oxygen magazine sent from home, I designed a circuit training and high intensity interval training program that I’d do in the soccer field as well.

Unfortunately, exercise isn’t everything when it comes to training. Diet is an equally important part of the equation. Controlling what you eat is difficult, especially when you live with a host family. As you may remember from a past blog post, food culture is very important here in Peru and it is very easy to offend others if you reject a meal. To build endurance and strength, there are several key ingredients you need in your meals: protein, healthy carbs, and regular vitamins and minerals. It’s easier said than done to get all of those even on a weekly basis when you live in a carb-loving sierra culture. Most of the time, meals consist of potatoes, rice, and a watery soup that is little more than noodles and shreds of carrots. Every once in a while you’ll get eggs, which are heavily fried and covered in oil, or charky, dried sheep meat which has been hanging from the ceiling for God knows how long, or home made cheese, which is left out in the open, uncovered for weeks. Not exactly healthy or appetizing. So, I eventually had to broach the subject with my host family. I explained that, although I enjoyed their cooking and liked family meal times, due to a change in my work schedule it was necessary for me to start cooking for myself. A white lie, but a necessary lie. The change was wonderful, honestly. I loved having control over my food again, knowing what exactly what was in each meal, how it was prepared, and how fresh it was. I also loved being able to eat when I wanted to eat instead of waiting until nighttime to have dinner. Protein intake also increased dramatically thanks to an ample supply of lentils, quinoa, hardboiled eggs, yogurt, and whey powder. My energy levels skyrocketed, my health improved, and my training progressed leaps and bounds.

Before I knew it, May rolled around and it was time for race day. Our PCV team arrived in Lima on Saturday and checked into our hostel. Our desk clerk, an expat American, was heavily hung over and, seeing us in our cheery mood, decided to give some sass:

Desk clerk: “So, you guys going to have fun in Lima?”

Me: “Yea, before we check into our race we’re going to grab Starbucks.”

Desk clerk: “You know there’s a local coffee shop just around the corner.”

Me: “Eh, I really want Starbucks.”

Desk clerk: “…you came all the way to South America to drink Starbucks?”

Me, now peeved: “No, I live here. I came all the way to Lima for Starbucks.”

Desk clerk: “Still kind of a bit of a sell out, don’t you think?”

Me, now mad: “No, I don’t. I live in the middle of nowhere where there are perhaps more sheep than people, my room is currently infested with mice which enjoy running over me as I sleep, I have no Internet, ‘iffy’ cell phone service, and otherwise no other way besides traveling 7 hours on a broken down bus to have any form of civilization. Now that I get to be in the capital, I want my froofy, corporate-filled coffee and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. So lay off.”

After my glorious-tasting latte (screw you, desk clerk), we took a taxi over to a city park to check into our races. We had team members running the 10K, a couple running the half-marathon, and one brave soul running the full marathon. God bless him. We each signed in, received our racing shirts, time chips, and racing numbers, and went back to the hostel excited and beaming. We were ready to race.

That night, we had an amazing carb load dinner. One of the Peace Corps staff was also running in the marathon with us, so she kindly invited all of us over to her house for a gourmet pasta dinner. It was wonderful to be in her home, enjoy taco dip, root beer, and other “healthy” snacks and then sit down to pesto, spaghetti with meat sauce and, Lord be praised, home made mac ‘n cheese. To wash it all down, there was chocolate cake for dinner. Life could not have been better.

Sunday morning, we woke up bright and early to make it to the race. I was amazed at the crowd. I was later told that there were more than 14,000 people who ran that day, though I couldn’t tell. All I saw was a sea of yellow running shirts. With adrenaline high and music blasting, the race was kicked off at 7:00 AM and we all began our 21K trek to the finish line.

Running the half-marathon was perhaps one of the hardest and most satisfying feats I’ve ever accomplished. I had two goals: never stop running and try to finish in under 2 ½ hours. Despite my lack of affection for running, the race was, honestly, enjoyable. The weather was overcast, so the sun didn’t beat down on us and we didn’t have to worry about heat. The entire course was covered with mist, which, although a pain for a glasses-wearer like myself, kept you cool and refreshed. Every 5K or so there would be a refreshment stand and 30 or so enthusiasts passing out Powerade and water, and a short ways later you’d be bombarded by dancers, people with noisemakers, and other forms of entertainment. The course weaved in and out of various neighborhoods, so it was always interesting to look around. The ground was flat, paved, and easy to run on. It felt great…at first.

When I ran past the 10K mark, I remember feeling extremely proud. I had only ever run 5K races, so running past the 10K banner officially marked the longest race I had ever run. Things started to deteriorate a bit around 15K. I suddenly became acutely aware of every joint in my body and just how much pounding they were taking as I ran on the asphalt. Somewhere around that time, I also twisted my left knee. I don’t know how it happened, but boy did I feel it for the rest of the race. I had to decrease my speed considerably and by the 18K mark I was running on pure will alone. My entire body hurt and I felt like my joints were going to pop out of my body like rusty bolts. It felt like one of those cartoons, the ones with the old 1920’s car that hiccups and jolts along the road, gradually losing gears and parts until there’s nothing but the driver staring puzzled at the steering wheel. Oddly enough, I never found it hard to breath and my lungs and chest felt great the whole time. I guess it does pay to train at high altitude. The last 3K took an eternity to run and the temptation to stop and walk was almost overpowering. It sounded so sweet, to just walk 5 steps, maybe 10, and then begin running again. However, I knew if I walked I wouldn’t be able to run again. So, I just had to tell myself that I could do it, and that I would do it, over and over again until I finally crossed the finish line. I still had music blasting in my ears, but somehow I heard my fellow PCVs cheering me as I ran past them on the sidelines. I finished my race 2 hours 39 minutes and 8 seconds after starting, which was longer than I hoped but, considering the state of my knee, nothing to be ashamed of.

When I crossed the finish line, I limped over and received a medal, a ham and cheese sandwich, a Dunkin’ Donuts glazed donut, a chocolate protein shake, and a blue Powerade. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve enjoyed a meal so much in my entire life. I joined the other PCVs, cheered for the rest of our friends as they crossed the finish line, and enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing that I had pushed my body to the limits and somehow won.

After resting, showering, and kicking back some ibuprofen, the rest of the night was celebrated with food and fun. Lunch consisted of chocolate frosted donuts and a giant chicken burrito, followed up by an English showing of the newest Star Trek movie. Following that, we all went to an all-you-could-eat sushi bar and practically ate them out of house and home. Unfortunately, we were also celebrating the goodbye of our friend and fellow PCV, Vivaan. After working in Peru for nearly 3 years, he was returning to the US to study law. He had just a couple of days left in Lima before leaving, and we were determined to send him off well. We were all too tired and sore to do any serious shenanigans, but being together and enjoying a large, well-earned meal was enough.

So, call me crazy, but the half-marathon was actually quite fun. The training was difficult, but it kept me sane and healthy during the hardest months of life in the sierra. The race itself was painful to be sure, but I pushed myself past any point I had ever pushed myself to before and you know what? It felt good. I felt strong, empowered, and proud. Afterwards, I got to celebrate with my close friends and laugh and reminisce over our run. The best part? We all wore our medals for the rest of the day and into the night. After all, we had earned them. 

Links and other random things

One thing the Peace Corps has taught me is just how much of a luxury the internet can truly be. I thought I'd share some of my favorite Peace Corps-related sites and links, just for kicks:

• This is a great letter for all of you future volunteers and, for those of you who'd prefer to stay home, illustrates perfectly what it's like to be in the Peace Corps:

http://thesharpiemarkerapproach.tumblr.com/post/42420977797/an-open-letter

• These two sites are great tumblrs full of Peace Corps humor. They depict, quite accurately, what we all go through on a daily basis:

http://whatshouldpcvscallme.tumblr.com/

http://howapcvputsitgently.tumblr.com/

• And finally, a letter explaining why you should date a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer:

http://www.peacecorpsconnect.org/2012/02/12-reasons-to-date-a-returned-peace-corps-volunteer/

An interview with a Peace Corps Volunteer

Recently, I had to fill out my first tri-annual Volunteer Reporting Form (also known as the VRF since everything in the government has to have an acronym) for the Peace Corps Peru and Washington Office. This report is done in order to update the various Peace Corps governing bodies on my work projects, physical and emotional health, and progression in the fulfillment of various Peace Corps goals. Gotta prove that I’m not wasting those American tax dollars! After finishing the very, veeeeeerry long survey, I though I’d covert some of the questions into a mock interview blog post:

How integrated do you feel in your community? Somewhat integrated

What have you learned in the process of integrating into your community? (How is your language learning going? What have you learned about cross-cultural integration? Do you have any suggestions for training based on your community integration experiences?)

I came to Peru with an already high language ability, so language difficulties were never a serious problem for me. I would say that I'm still learning new words, but my language level hasn't increased much since I got here. I find very little difficulty in communicating, although I still make grammatical mistakes. To help further things along, I've been trying to read more books in Spanish in order to learn new sentence structures and vocab. However, I will admit that my language learning progress is slow because I still turn to English frequently. When I'm stressed out or when I need a mental break, I treat myself to a pirated American TV show or movie or curl up with an English book. It doesn't help my language learning, but it is necessary for my mental health. 



As for cross-cultural integration, I'm still learning how to integrate myself properly here. I find that although I try to engage people in conversation and discuss aspects of my and their culture, conversations stay superficial and always gravitate to very simple topics (the weather, whether I’m cold at night or not, local crop growth, etc.). I have found it easier to learn more about Peruvian culture and share my own American culture with a select number of people, those who I would consider to be friends rather than acquaintances. We watch movies, cook food together, and go to town events and parties as a group.

What challenges have you faced in your project or in other areas of your Peace Corps experience?

One of my greatest challenges is just remembering that relationship building takes a great deal of time and effort. Sometimes I feel frustrated that I still don't have any close friends here in site. I do have friends, but I still haven’t yet reached a point in the relationship where I feel comfortable going to them to vent my emotions and feelings. 


Another serious challenge has been making myself feel useful. For the past couple of months, I really haven't done...well, pretty much anything. I've helped at the health center when I can and attended town meetings, but until recently I hadn't done anything that I could truly consider work. I had no ownership of any project, no matter how small. This was extremely discouraging for me, since the reason I decided to leave the US and dedicate two years of my life to the Peace Corps was to actually HELP people and WORK. Unfortunately for me, I arrived at my site at the worst possible moment. School was just about to be let out for the year, and all of the teens took off for the coast for vacation. Also, the rainy season was just about to begin. Every day for two months it rained like clockwork. Days were dismal, damp, and dreary, especially since about 50% of the townspeople left for the coast to enjoy warmer weather and work. I was left to wander around in ghost town with absolutely nothing to do besides my community diagnostic.

Making friends was very difficult not only because of culture shock, but also because, frankly, no one was around to talk to. Stress, depression, and apathy were daily occurrences, and I’d say I probably had at least 2 pity-parties/crying-fests every week. All I could think about was what my life would have been like if I had chosen to stay in the United States: I’d have a 9:00-5:00 job or be a student with a day full of classes, I’d have actual, definite work to do every day, at the end of each day I’d have a physical, tangible product of my hard work, I’d be up-to-date in world news, pop culture, and family events, and I’d be in constant contact with my friends and loved ones. Instead, I found myself at what felt like the God-forsaken middle-of-nowhere hole of Peru, locked in my cold, cement room to avoid the rain, without anything to do to widdle away the hours. Thankfully, this is perfectly normal for Peace Corps Volunteers during their first 2-4 months in site.

Typical of a government program, the Peace Corps has done studies about the patterns of emotional and mental health of volunteers during their 2 years of service. During my training in Lima, I was giving a handout with a graph depicting the trajectory of highs and lows volunteers usually experience over a two-year period. One of the biggest “dips” and all-time lows is shown between months 2-4, when volunteers are adapting to their sites, missing home, and having failed or slow starts to their projects. However, around the end of month #3 the graph begins to slope upward and happiness increases. Thankfully, that is actually starting to happen with me. Slowly but surely projects are moving forward, every day I have things to do, and I feel more confident, busy, and useful. As a result, I feel a lot healthier and happier. 


Describe lessons learned about your project, community or yourself.

1. It is important to spend the majority of your time doing what you love. Your community may want you to do other projects, but you should always consider them carefully before you agree to participate. That is not to say that you should not help your community realize and meet their specific needs. However, if you find there is a lot of pressure for you to do something you simply do not enjoy doing, you should try to find other ways to help. Maybe agree to advise the project or help organize it, but not spearhead it yourself. If you find you are spending most of your time doing activities that drain you and give you no satisfaction or joy, you will become bitter. That bitterness and tiredness will spill over into the projects that you actually enjoy, will dramatically affect your mood and your willingness to participate in the community, and taint the conversations you have with people. 


2. Protecting and caring for yourself is not selfish. Being a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) is one of the most selfless things you can do, and it is part of the PCV's job to think of others and help communities meet their needs. However, that does not mean the PCV should be completely self-sacrificing. As PCVs, our emotional, mental, and physical health is imperative. If we do not care for ourselves, we cannot be good PCVs. Taking time for yourself is not taking away from your community and is certainly not selfish. You're giving to yourself so then you can give back to those around you. 


3. You do not always have to succeed. If you aim for success every time, you are not just going to fail. You are going to fail badly and painfully. Failure is part of the Peace Corps experience, and it's fine to not have a bunch of "success stories" to share to others. Rather, those failures are, as corny as it sounds, opportunities to learn and develop. Never be afraid of failure, and don't think that just because things don't work out immediately that you're a bad PCV or wasting your time.

What activities do you intend to undertake in the next few months?

1. To help improve the sanitation and health practices of the Aurahuá Health Center, I am helping the medical staff build two small landfills on the center’s property. Currently, the medical staff uses the local landfill at the edge of town to dispose of their trash. Once the trash is thrown into the pit, it is burned. This is dangerous for several reasons. First, burning trash is very harmful for the environment and for personal health. When trash is burned, toxic ash and smoke is produced. These can be very harmful to the eyes, nose, throat, and lungs if they are inhaled and can produce other negative effects on plant life and the atmosphere. Furthermore, if someone were to enter the landfill and come into contact with used needles and syringes, they could become seriously sick. For this reason, the health center needs its own trash deposits where it can safely dispose of any waste produced during the treatment of patients. Our plan is to build two small landfills: one for medical waste and one for organic waste.
2.  I am currently facilitating a recycling project with the local elementary school’s 6^th grade class. Late last year, the students asked me to be their madrina de promoción (godmother of graduation). Traditionally, the madrina is in charge of organizing and paying for the students’ end-of-the-year graduation party and vacation trip. Since I do not have a salary, I made it clear to the 6^th grade teacher that it would be impossible for me to finance the graduation. However, I could help the school organize a party and help the students with various fundraising activities. The teacher, Professor Grover, said that would be more than enough. To help the students not only raise money, but also learn how to care for the environment, I organized a recycling project. Students collect plastic and glass bottles as well as white and colored paper. When enough has been gathered, I take all of the recyclables to Chincha to sell to a recycling vendor. I’m pleased to say that the project has been quite successful. Word has spread around town and many local organizations, such as the police station and the health center, as well as local stores have agreed to donate their recycling to the project as well.
3.  I am still slowly but surely working on making a local public library. Currently, the health staff, Professor Juan, and I are working on making a committee to organize the project and oversee the library.
4. With one of the new medical interns, a psychologist by the name of Liset, I am organizing an Escuela de Padres (Parents’ School). Classes will be held with parents of the kindergarten, elementary school, and high school students once a month to help them improve their parenting skills. Themes of the classes will focus more on mental and social health, such as how to facilitate communication with your children, emotional control, stress management, healthy forms of discipline, the difficulties of adolescence, how to talk to you children about sex, drugs, and alcohol, and how to instill values and raise the self-esteem of your child. 
5.  I am just a couple of steps shy of beginning my Pasos Adelante (Steps Forward) program within the local high school. Pasos Adelante is a program designed and promoted by the Peace Corps that teaches teens about self-esteem, sexual and reproductive health, how to plan for the future, and how to be a leader. It’s kind of like a mix of D.A.R.E, basic sex ed., and a Culver Academy leadership class. The program has 12 sessions in total and, once the students complete all 12 classes and graduate, they become health promoters within their high school community. They are charged with teaching at least 50 of their peers and are trained to give accurate, confidential, and confident answers to any questions fellow students might ask them regarding sexual health or about healthy relationships. Currently, I have created a work plan for the program and am finalizing the last details of the classes with the high school director. I’ve also distributed parent permission slips and applications to all of the students, which I will collect in a week. From there, I’ll be able to choose which students will participate in the program and begin holding classes. To help with this, I’ve also made an Adolescent Health Committee composed of the science teachers at the high school and various health personnel to help co-facilitate the classes and organize outreach events in the community.
6.  Other projects I might embark on in the next couple of months include establishing a health radio program, training local health promoters, and continuing to help the local health center in its public outreaches and health promotion events. 

The second goal of the Peace Corps is "to help promote a better understanding of the American people on the part of the peoples served..." Have you have done something in your community to help promote a better understanding of Americans -- of your own cultural heritage, of American ideals you care passionately about, etc?

I have yet to do anything "big" to promote American culture to my community. If I had to list any large project, I'd refer to my library project. Although I don't know if you could consider it an American ideal, there is a very prominent reading culture in the States. Children are introduced to reading programs from a young age and young adult literature is a very widespread cultural phenomenon (Hunger Games and Harry Potter, anyone?). I am trying to plant aspects of that culture here by showing kids and teens that reading can be fun and giving them the means to develop a love for reading. Besides this, I've done a couple of small activities with specific groups of people. One of my favorite moments was when I watched a dubbed version of the film "The Help" with my health staff. This lead to a great discussion on ethnic rights and racism in Peru and the US, the history of the US Civil Rights Movement, the aspects of Southern culture and gastronomy in the States, and differences in culture between the US in the '60s and now.

Have you experienced any personal issues at site that are affecting your work (host family, acceptance in community, your health, etc)?

The only major incident that occurred had to do with my community diagnostic presentation. During my first three months in site, my primary work was to compose a community diagnostic, an extensive analysis of the health situation within Aurahuá. When I returned from Lima after attending the Peace Corps’ EIST (Early In-Service Training) in mid-March, I immediately wrote and left an oficio (a formal petition for resources or help) at my municipality asking the opportunity to present my community diagnostic during a specially organized meeting. In this oficio, I also expressed the urgency of organizing the presentation quickly, since I was scheduled to travel to Ayacucho after the following week.

A couple of days later, I returned to the secretary's office to see if my oficio had been considered. I was told that it had, in fact, been read, but only the mayor knew what decision had been made. Since our mayor had returned back to Chincha without telling me anything, I called him on his cell phone. He told me that Gladys, our regidora de salud (kind of like a governor of health), was in charge of the project and hung up on me. I then spent the next week and a half looking for Gladys. I called her multiple times every day, I visited her house every other day, and made almost daily trips to the municipality to see if she was in the office. I called the mayor again to ask where Gladys was, but he offered no help and again hung up on me. When it was clear that there was now no time to organize a presentation before leaving for vacation, I wrote a solicitud (a different kind of formal document that solicits a specific kind of resource or help) asking to present my diagnostic during the April reunion de consejos (a monthly meeting where townspeople and authorities are able to propose ideas or ask for help from the municipality). I left it in the secretary's office, had the cargo (this is a copy of the legal document, such as an oficio or solicitud, that the petitioner has signed and keeps as a receipt of proof that their document has been officially received and registered by the municipality) signed, and then called the mayor to let him know I had left the solicitud and also told him what I was soliciting in the document. After listening to everything, he hung up on me again.

When I returned from Ayacucho, Gladys found me at the health center and we organized the presentation. I finished my PowerPoint slides, spent a great deal of time practicing, and arrived at the meeting dressed professionally with all of the projectors and computers set up. When I walked into the office, I was told that I could sit politely in the room's corner until the meeting was done. This greatly surprised me, since I had specifically requested to give a presentation, not just come and listen. When I explained this to the mayor and the other regidores (kind of like governors, each has a specific area of oversight such as health, public works, education, etc.), they all expressed their frustration, rolled their eyes at me, and said this was not, in fact, what I had asked for. After chastising Gladys for not "properly handling me,” I was told that they might have time to listen to my presentation at noon, if I kept it to 15 minutes. I had arrived at 9:00. I had to wait three hours for them. To say I was not pleased was an understatement.

When 12:15 came and they still hadn't left their office, I knocked on the door to remind them that it was time for me to present. They continued to make me wait and came out about 10 minutes later, laughing and joking like nothing had happened. At this point, I was about ready to explode. I was absolutely livid at the way I was being treated and was determined to have my revenge before the day was through.

After giving my community diagnostic presentation, I put on a smile and asked if the audience had any concluding comments or questions. Afterwards, as the regidores began to get up to leave, I announced that I had a question of my own to pose to all of them. Puzzled, they sat back down and watched as I pulled the original solicitud's cargo out of my bag.  With my voice practically dripping with poison, I read a section of the document out loud to them where it clearly stated that I wanted to present my diagnostic, not just "sit in" on the meeting. I then demanded an explanation as to why I had to wait over three hours to get their attention and why they had treated me so unprofessionally. Looking at each other in shock and embarrassment, they could give me no answer. That’s when I let them have it. Stepping in front of them and blasting them with the full force of my fury, I made it blatantly clear that they were never, EVER to treat me that way again. Although I admitted that I was foreign and young, I made it abundantly clear that I worked for the US government and I served as its representative in Aurahuá. Henceforth, when the municipality addressed me it would treat me as if it were addressing the US government itself. Furthermore, if I went through the trouble of respecting their rules and customs by writing solicitudes and oficios, they would give me the basic courtesy of actually reading them and pay attention to what, exactly, I was asking.

During the whole time, I don't think my mayor was there for more than 2 minutes straight. He constantly was getting up and leaving during my presentation, talking on his cell phone, or, if he was actually present, looking visibly bored. Unfortunately, that meant that not only did he miss the entirety of my presentation, but also in my reprimand. However, I decided not to tackle that problem and address it later. Based on what I saw at the end of my presentation, I think the message was driven home. The municipality's staff was visibly shocked at the sheer magnitude of my anger and ashamed of the way they had treated me. It was actually almost comical to watch them shrink further and further into their seats as I continued to yell. Despite everything, I want to give them one more chance and see if my outburst was enough of an incentive for them to treat me more respectfully in the future. However, if such an incident occurs again, I plan on calling upon the Peace Corps Office and schedule for my directors to either pay a visit or make a phone call to put the fear of God into them.

Hopefully that gives you all a better idea as to what my accomplishments, goals, and struggles have been for the past four or so months. Thanks for tuning in, everyone!