Kathleen - On the Job

Flexibility. That is the key.

It is difficult to explain what my job entails, much less a “day in the life.” Every day is different and something unexpected often comes up. My job entails many different responsibilities and it’s often a juggling act.

One highlight of my week is the ESL class. As a not-for-profit women’s center, we don’t have too much money for English books, and I haven’t found an ESL book that I like—most are aimed at kids and don’t incorporate the day to day English we use. So I am always thinking about the language and terminology I use. It’s pretty easy in El Paso; I just ask myself if I know how to do everyday things in Spanish, and create a lesson out of that. How do I find out the bus route I need to get to work? How can tell a doctor when I don’t feel well? How can I sell something to a customer? After brainstorming lesson ideas, I start piecing together a lesson plan with handouts and activities. Often, they are so itching for knowledge that I spend the class answering questions. A big one is the pronunciation of words that sound similar, such as: beer, bear, bird, board, bored, and border. Sometimes I wonder if they actually are learning as I contort my face with the different vowel sounds and try to think of motions to help them remember—beer has a guttural sound, so I act like I have a big belly; bird has an airy vowel sound, so I flap little wings as I say it; bored sounds like a yawn. It all makes me think of our language as mouth candy and understand why it is confusing to go from a language that has five vowel sounds to one that has numerous sounds with different spellings (ever think about how you pronounce bought, through, and rough differently even though they all have “–ough” at the end?).

Taking programs to other agencies in El Paso has also been a wonderful part of my week. Mondays, I ride my bike to the bridge (maybe 1 ½ miles), walk across to Cuidad Juaréz, and take the bus out to Siglo XXI (a neighborhood in Cd. Juaréz that lacks infrastructure) to meet with the women there. It is always strange to ride the bus along the Rio Grande, staring at El Paso’s skyscrapers looming behind the fences, trains, and Border Patrol cars. I cannot imagine what it would be like to see the disparities every day—to hear that education in El Paso is affordable, to know that some food in El Paso costs less because they have Wal-Mart, to see El Paso’s buildings seem cleaner and well-maintained—and all that naturally separates you is a river.

The women meet in a little chapel when they can to make crafts, watercolor, or just talk about life. They are a support to one another, and I have been so fortunate that they let me walk with them. They are teaching me a lot about how Americans are viewed and how the border and American economic policies affect their lives.

Another group of women have also let me into their lives to see the challenges they face. Twice a week I facilitate an arts and crafts class at the Opportunity Center, a shelter that essentially takes in the most marginalized—those who have been turned away from other shelters in El Paso. Some days, the women are in bad moods. It’s hard to have nearly 20 women sleeping on mats in a space the size of my living room. Those days, I might make some origami by myself or paint with one other woman. Other days, the women are happy and talkative. It helps that I am not on staff at the Opportunity Center; they have nothing to lose by unloading on me. I hope they enjoy the time to just do something with their hands and be creative, since many say they don’t have much going on. They give me a lot to think about as far as the connection between mental health and homelessness and prison, as many of them have chemical imbalances.

I have been inspired by the strong women I meet with for our self-esteem workshop. They all have so much power. My role is to pose questions or do different activities to get the women thinking about their lives and talking to one another. I am not there to tell them what they need; they have it already in each other. I have been so fortunate to be alongside these women as they share personal stories and encourage one another to use the power they have.

There is so much more to this job than I can fully describe in a blog, but the women I have had the pleasure of accompanying have given me much more than I could ever give them.

Learn more about Kathleen here.

Dermot - The Latin Kiss

Let me start with a Christmas admission, from under some Peruvian mistletoe. I have kissed more women in Latin America—way more—than I ever will in the United States. To start with, I have kissed every one of the profesoras at Cristo Rey, every señorita in my host family, many a married woman, all of my lucky female community-mates, a surprising number of nuns and Latin grannies, at least one member of the Jesuit Volunteers International (JVI) staff, quite a few strangers on the street, and maybe even a few women who didn´t deserve the Dermot mark of approval, but received it anyway. What can I say? I´m a generous guy.

If I were in the United States, between my personal and professional life, I would probably have violated every sexual harassment law in the country. But before JVI picks up the chastity hotline to put an end to the wanton lasciviousness of this philandering gringo, let me qualify comments made in the above paragraph with a note on cultural sensitivity. In Peru , you must kiss women when you meet them. To not do so is considered rude and highly impersonal. It is just one way I observe this country to be a much more "tactile" place. The people want—expect—more than a moribund and guarded handshake. They want the gift of your touch and are happy to give it, too.

Peru engenders none of the interpersonal distance that I see in the US. I recently learned that North Americans require an unoccupied space, 30 inches in diameter, to feel unthreatened and comfortable. You get within 1.5 feet of someone in the US and we reach for the mace. Down south, they think much less of it. Peruvians require you to give them a robust embrace, a passionate conversation, and an almost immediate closeness that would make many North Americans flee to a quiet and solitary refuge. So, if you plan on joining JVI Peru, get ready to pucker up: a Latin´s lips—and hips—never lie…at least in the opening salutation.

Before I continue, I should probably share with you the best way to kiss a Peruvian woman ( I never thought I´d use that line in the JVI blog). Stop laughing. Kissing is serious stuff in Peru . To effectively navigate this delicate maneuver, you must approach the Latina , embrace her, touch her right cheek to yours, and blow a kiss approximately toward her ear. Don´t blow the kiss too hard and make sure you don´t have spit in your mouth. You don´t want to give the poor girl a wet willy. Confront the task like a salsa dancer. Do it suavemente (smoothly) and she will be encantada (let´s say, very thankful).

Also, an important corollary: do not plant the kiss on her cheek with your lips. It took me about six months in Peru to realize that the platonic kiss is normally meant for the air, not the woman. A kiss on the cheek is a sign that you might be looking for passion in more than just the conversation. Oops! Mea culpa. I may have given some poor Hermanas de la Merced (Sisters of Mercy) the wrong idea on how I feel about their vow of celibacy.

Having given you a brief introduction to Latin philematology, let´s continue with more Peruvian rules of etiquette. When you arrive late (if that is possible in this country) and find a group of Peruvians has already arrived at an engagement, you must make sure to greet each of them individually. In these situations, the typical formation Peruvians adopt is what I call the "circle of death." Perhaps it´s a sociological curiosity endemic to this country, but when Peruvians mingle, they don´t form small groups like in the US; rather, they almost always create large circles where everyone can see everyone else and note which reproached Latina the gringo forgets to kiss. If I am going to end the night on good terms with all, I must proceed around the entire circle (at times, upwards of 30 people), making sure to kiss the women and embrace the men. This process can be more involved, prolonged, and subtle than Middle East peacekeeping. Moreover, if you get it wrong, the Latinas might forgive, but they will never forget.

I probably have kissing on the brain in this blog, because, today, I gave some of my longest anticipated kisses of the year. My family touched down in Tacna´s Airport at 7:20 AM today (but who was counting the hours?). You can be damn sure that my mom and two sisters benefited greatly from the great kissing education I received during the past year. Needless to say, this Christmas will be very special for me, as it will be one in which I get to share my gringo family with the Peruvian one which has adopted me during the past year. I am excited to continue with another year of JVI and am already feeling refreshed from the energy boost my family has given me.

In my last blog, I promised a rebuttal to Ivan Illich´s indictment of volunteer programs . Sorry to disappoint, but I´m not ready to offer it up, yet. I´ll make it a New Years resolution to tackle these issues, after a long conversation with my parents.

Learn more about Dermot here.