Travels- Guatemala and Honduras

Guatemala
San Marcos, Lake Atitlan
Various other villages around San Marcos
Sumpango (Kite Festival)

Honduras
Copan (Mayan Ruins)
Gracias (Where my friends Kate and Ryan are teaching)

Travels- Nicaragua and Guatemala

The Travels continue! Here is a video of a few of my adventures during my first 2 weeks in Central America. Some of the places you will see in the video are:

Nicaragua:
Granada
Masaya
Laguna de Masaya
Laguna de Apoyo
Lago de Nicaragua

Guatemala:
Antigua
Volcano Pacaya
Lake Atitaln
San Marcos
San Pedro


Next stop Honduras……

Travels- Cuba

The One with Some Closure

Well, this is it. Goodbye time.

I am pretty emotional right now, and not necessarily sad emotional, just emotional, more like a mixed feelings type of emotional. A type of emotional that that I have never felt before so I have no frame of reference.

I thought maybe I could write about my departure and share my feelings about my last moments in my community and my goodbyes…. But now all I find in a blinking cursor, and I am struggling to find the right words that express the way I am feeling… all I can come up with is “emotional.” Which is kind of ironic, because if you refer to my very First Blog Post, "emotional" was the only thing I could muster then as well. I feel like I owe my dedicated blog readers more than that….But that is all I have got, for now at least.

I hope to continue with my blog once I get back to the states, I am sure I will have some stories to share about my readjustment.

But before I head back to the “real world” I am going to go explore more of the real “real world.” By the time you read this I will already be out of Panama and in route to my first destination. I may not be writing blog posts during my travels, but I will try to keep up with the videos, so stay tuned.

Thank you for your dedication to my blog and thank you for supporting me through my 2 years in Buena Esperanza. I can’t tell you how comforting it was to know that I had such supportive friends, family, and complete strangers cheering me on. I am so glad that I was able to take you through my experience (virtually).

As promised here is a video of some of my last days in my community, it may seem a bit sad and dramatic, but I feel like making the video was good closure for me. Enjoy.




So it goes...
Meti

The one with the video from September

Video and Pictures from my despedida (going away party) are not included in this video. Stand by

The One with the Snakebite

To me, a large part of what makes life interesting is the non predictability of it. The idea that you really just never know. A common phrase I often hear when something out of the ordinary happens is “well that’s a first.” I think, there is and always will be a chance of having a “first.” I know I have had plenty firsts here in Buena Esperanza, so really, I should have known that the firsts would continue all the way up until the end of my Peace Corps Service.

I have been here for 2 years, I have hiked many trails and I have seen many snakes but it wasn’t until the other day that I witnessed my first snakebite.

The snake’s victim, a young 14 year old girl, was ironically the same girl that was “possessed” a few months ago (read: the one about my muchcha).

Here is what went down:

Last week, I hiked over to my ex-pat/gringo neighbor’s house to say goodbye. As I was leaving, one of their workers stopped me and asked if I could translate for him real quick. These ex-pats don’t speak Spanish, so sometimes things are lost in translation. Federico (the worker) seemed calm, without any sign of urgency or concern, like normal. We patiently waited for the 2 ex-pats to gather and hear what he had to say. I figured Federico wanted to ask them about a raise, or signing a new contact, so there was really no hurry. Once we all got together and were staring at Federico, he turns to me and says “ A snake just bit my daughter so I have to go.” I was completely shocked by the unanticipated that I forgot my role of translating and started firing questions. “Which daughter, where is she? When did it happen? What did the snake look like?”

He needed me to tell the ex-pats that he was leaving work to go search for his dad, the medicine man, who was out working in the farm (jungle).
Once questions were answered and the situation was explained and translated, Federico slowly walked away, until he thought he was out of site, at which point he took off in a full on sprint.

I said my goodbyes to the neighbors again, and headed on the path towards the village. After walking through the Cacao trees and down a steep hill to the creek, the image of a very frightened mother and a very sick young girl presented itself. The daughter was lying in the arms of her mother alongside the creek bed.

The mother was screaming and crying, in near hysterics. The girl had soft tears running down her face and was groaning in obvious pain. There was no question as to where the snake got her. Her lower left leg was swollen to the size of her upper quad muscle. The knee joint and ankle were hardly visible.

Moments after my arrival, Federico appeared with his eldest son. Federico was sweating bullets, but other than that he still showed no signs of panic or stress. In his hand, he carried a small lemon and a handful of bark from an unknown (to me) tree. He informed us that his father was too far way, so he sent someone else to go track him down. Meanwhile, Federico was going to make her some medicine to hold her over until her Grandfather could be found.

At this point, his daughter was weaving in and out of a conscious state. Her eyes would close, her body would go limp, and her whining would stop, then her mom would furiously shake her and tap her face until she would start groaning again.

Federico gave his daughter the mixture of lemon juice and the bark that he crushed between two rocks in the creak. The girl’s body immediately refused the medicinal mixture, by vomiting. At this point, Federico started to reveal some more emotion. He instantly turned to me questioning whether or not I was “with baby.” Their belief is that if the victim taking the medicine is in the presence of a pregnant woman, then the victim’s body will reject the medicine.
After assuring and reassuring Federico that I was not with child, he became anxious. He was convinced that his daughter was not safe in such close proximity to the hiking trail. He said that pregnant woman pass by there all the time, so he was adamant on moving her. So they hurriedly carried her off to a hidden spot in the jungle, where Federico instructed she stay until the sun went down. As they disappeared into the jungle bush, I remained on the creek bed feeling helpless.

I knew there was anti-venom for the Fer-de-lance snake in Bocas. I knew they if we took her now, she had a better chance. I explained this to them a few times, in a few different ways. But, Federico’s father, the medicine man, has a good track record and reputation for curing snake bites. They made it very clear to me that they had no intention s of taking her to the hospital. It was not a matter of money, or gas for the boat. It was solely their beliefs, customs, culture and traditions. I had to respect that. I understand my limitations as a volunteer and as an outsider. This was Federico’s daughter. He was well informed on the severity of this situation as well as his options. There was nothing else I could do. Ultimately, he made the calls. I walked back to the village alone.

I spent that whole night worrying that I was going to wake up to terrible news. Right after sunrise, one of Federico’s youngest sons came to give me an update: They brought his sister back to the house last night just after sunset. Once there, she was cornered off in the house (like they did to her when she was having her “fits”) and the medicine doctor tended to his granddaughter. He gave her a botanical mixture, and burnt the spot the snake had bitten with a hot nail. Her brother told me she made it through the night, but was not any better that morning.

I had to go into town that day, but the whole circumstance did not leave my mind. And soon to find out, the whole situation had actually followed me to town.

The Medicine man surrendered once his granddaughter started vomiting blood (which they blame on the fact that there was a woman in the room, who was not pregnant, but she was on her period). Once they got the “go ahead” for him, they rushed the girl to the hospital. I had a brief visit with the family in the emergency room, and returned later once she was admitted to the hospital, for a longer stay. I spoke with the grandfather/ medicine man while he was in the waiting room. He was pacing around barefoot, and looked extremely uncomfortable and out of place. I could feel questioning looks from other patients, doctors and nurses when I walked across the room to shake his hand. I know what they were thinking… why is this “gringa” here to visit this “Indian” family.

This was my first experience in a public hospital here in panama. It was an extremely unprofessional setting. The staff seemed rude, immature and to be honest, prejudice. There was absolute no bedside matter, or respect for the girl and her family. The old grandfather, who hardly speaks Spanish, was publicly reprimanded and humiliated for trying to cure his granddaughter. It made me sad and defensive to see the way they were treated, it must have been hard for them. Yet, I still knew that they made the right decision on bringing her there. She stayed in that hospital for 9 days, by herself. When she was finally brought back to the community she remained hammock bound for another 7 days, because her leg was still to swollen to walk.

I am glad that this story can end on a happy note that the girl is still alive, and fully recovered.

To be honest, for how much my community members walk around barefoot in the jungle, I am surprised that it took me two years to whiteness my first snake bite. But after seeing her and her family go through all that, I am so glad that it is not more of a frequent occurrence. Hopefully this “first” will also be a “last.”

~Michelle

The One About What I Have to Look Forward to

I recently found myself on the brink of tears, numerous times, when I think about having to leave Buena Esperanza. Within days, I am going to have to leave everything behind, everything that I have grown so comfortable with. This life, and this place is going to be so incredible hard to say goodbye to. Also, it doesn’t help that all I hear about the United States is how terrible the job market, or how hard it is going to be to re-adjust and how much has changed since I have been gone.

But I think most of you who know me well, know that I try (as much as possible) to think of the positives. So, instead of dwelling and feeling sorry for myself, I decided instead to do a 180 and think about all the things I have to look forward to. I decided to write them down, so I could refer to them when I get sad over the next few weeks.

I thought I would share my list with you all, because looking back at my recent posts, I think this blog can use some positive energy!

This is the list of some (not all) of things I have to look forward to when I get back to the states:

(Skype Picture from last Christmas)

• Family
• Friends
• The Lake
• The amazingness that is Trader Joes
• Good Tea
• Refrigeration
• Salads
• Blenders
• Air popper for popcorn
• Hot tub
• Pine Trees
• Laughing with my Pop
• Living with my brother
• Playing badminton with my mom
• Sitting on the porch watching the deer with T and Da
• Blending in
• Wearing my hair down
• Farmers Markets
• Being able to go to the bathroom without everyone asking where I am going
• Being able to go to the bathroom without being afraid of falling in
• Being able to go to the bathroom without having to put my rain jacket on
• Being able to go to the bathroom without having to check for snakes
• Taking a shower without shoes on
• Seasons
• Being able to leave whenever I want (no boat transportation or having to
rely on someone else)
• Ovens
• Speaking English
• Being cold
• Riding a bike
• Shoveling snow (never thought I would say that)
• Swimming
• Cheese
• Melted Cheese
• Baby carrots
• Sprinkles
• Comfortable beds
• Sleeping in
• Happy and healthy dogs
• Being able to see at night (lights)
• Swedish pancakes
• Tahoe sunsets
• Not having to burn my trash
• Hoodies
• Recycling
• Ant free; sugar, soup, oil… bed. Ant free EVERYTHING
• Scorpion free clothing.
• Easy access to information
• Laundromat in my house
• Privacy
• Personal space
• Stimulating conversations
• Hot water
• Cold water
• Frozen water (ice)
• Clean Water
• Water.



I have a lot to look forward to... I think I am ready to come home now =)

~Michelle

The One About Traveling

I told my mom I would be home by the holidays. She of course took “the holidays” as “thanksgiving,” and I know how to pick my battles, I think her little girl has been gone long enough…and so I will be home just in time spend the very special holiday with the ones I am most thankful for.

But after I leave Buena Esperanza and before the Tofurkey hits the table, I plan on traveling. My itinerary is not concrete… but I do know that Costa Rica, Cuba, Nicaragua, Honduras, El Salvador, Guatemala, Belize and Mexico are all in the very near future. I am excited to travel, who wouldn’t be… 8 new countries, 6 ish weeks, so many different cultures, different languages, different natural wonders. It is going to be great. However, I have this other feeling, a feeling like each place I visit I am constantly going to be thinking “what else?” and “what am I missing about this place?”

Let me explain: The closest town to my community here is a place called Isla Colon, or better known as Bocas Island. It is in all the central American tour books. It draws tourist of all kinds and from all over the world. There are the ritzy Panamanians from Panama City, there are the Australian surfers dudes looking to catch a wave, there are the crafty Argentinians out on the street selling their products to pay for the rest of their travel, there are Israelis of course, because they travel everywhere, and so much more.

So this is the place that I have been going to and from for the past 2 years. It is where I can do internet, purchase groceries, have a good meal, and easily catch a water taxi to the main land. Imagine going from this tourist trap, where they advertise “ladies nights” and “jungle" themed parties, and then you travel only 30-90 min and you are in the real jungle, where you can experience the reality of how most of the natives live; where we have no running water, no latrines, no electricity and where the people are all subsistence farmers, who live and work the land for survival.

I know most of the tourists are on the same route. They all carry the same travel books that are all leading them in the same direction and to the same destinations. If you get your hotel, your business or your tour in one of these books and it is a gold mine. The chatter in the hostels are all about where they had just been, or where they are headed, and how drunk they were the night before. In Bocas, they are all shuffled around by the tour guides (via boat) who offer hardly a handful of tour options. Most include sitting on the beach. One of the most popular tour is what the local guides call “the round” and the first stop in this boat tour is Dolphin Bay, the bay right out my kitchen window.

So here is why I have mixed feelings about traveling Central America, and why I know that a little part of me is always going to feel like I am missing something…. I know if I were to visit Bocas without being a Peace Corps Volunteer, I would just follow the crowd, do the tours, see the sites and probably end up sitting in the middle of Dolphin Bay snapping pictures. But now, my eyes have been opened to what lies on the shore of Dolphin bay; this beautiful magical place, Buena Esperanza, that has changed my life....It is the people, and it is the relationships that I have made, that make this place so amazing, and you can’t get that from sitting on a boat with a bunch of other tourists.

But...in a few short weeks I am going to be joining this cycle. I am going to put my backpack on my back, tie my money bag around my waist, keep my tour book handy, and jump on in. I know to really get to know a place like I have in Buena Esperanza, takes time. And I think I can’t realistically travel and stay in communities for 6 months to a year at a time (as much as I may want to) I am lucky to be able to take this trip to be able to take this trip,and I know now that I will do my best to take the back roads, and meet the locals to feel that void I know I will have.

As for Buena Esperanza, I feel so fortunate to have been given the opportunity to live in a place that so many people just get to see from a boat.


Peace,
Meti

The One with the August Video

Another month has flown by.... now I am just down to days.
Enjoy the video!


Peace, Meti

The One About Change

Let’s talk about change…

Peace Corps tells us that change doesn’t happen overnight and to not be discouraged if you don’t see immediate results from our hard work. We are just “planting the seed” they say, and “development work takes time”… blah blah blah... right, I understand all that. But then why is it that these kinds of changes, positive ones, developing ones, take so long. But other changes seem to happen overnight? Or as The Eagles sing about, “in a new York minute…”

If you look at BE now and compare it to 2 years ago, you won’t see too many changes. Some new homes maybe, more fresh water supplies of course, but from the outsiders eye everything would seem pretty much the same. But to me, when I think about what this community was like when I arrive 2 years ago, it seems like so much has changed. I am not talking about change in relation to my work here; I am just talking about change in general, change that I guess is just inevitable, change that comes with time.


A list of some, but not all, of the changes I have noticed:

Weed-Whacker- The government gave the school a fancy new weed whacker, so that the fathers don’t have to use their machetes to cut the grass anymore. It use to be that all the dads would get together on Thursday mornings and socialize and chat while they cut the grass of their children’s school. Now, one man does all the work, while creating so much noise pollution that the teachers can hardly teach class and none of the other men can talk to one another. I remember the very first day the dads used the weed whacker; some of the older men were so against this new technology that they were out swinging their machete right next to the machine, claiming that it couldn’t cut they way they could cut. Eventually, their pride faded and they surrendered to the “machine” as they call it.

Fighting- I had always heard about Ngobes fighting, “the Ngobes can take a punch” is what other Peace Corps volunteers often say. But I had never really seen any serious fights in my community until about 8 months ago. Now it is a frequent occurrence. Keep reading this list, and I but you can guess what other change this fighting is in direct correlation with.

Baseballs- The kids use to just play baseball with a bunch of plastics bags bunched up and tied with a piece of string. Now they have real baseballs but they only have two gloves, which makes the game a bit unfair don’t you think? Seeing as my house acts as 3rd base, I make sure to close all the windows and go outside when they start a game. There is a big difference between a ball of plastic bags hitting the house compared to a ball of solid rubber. Take cover!!!!

Road- They say a road is coming. Remember we are on a peninsula not an island, but we are still boat access only. The road construction has already begun from the mainland side. I have heard both sides of the “road argument,“ including why roads are good and why they are bad. I agree with both sides. For my people the road may be positive, but thinking selfishly, it would be devastating for me to see a road cut threw my community.

Alcohol- This was the hardest change for me to see. The introduction of alcohol! Sure 2 years ago they knew what alcohol was. But they drank it very rarely, about once or twice a year. Unfortunately, about 7 months ago, one of our little store owners decided to start supplying the community with beer. So now, whenever they have an extra dollar or two on them, you know where they are headed. Drunken occurrences have gone from bi-annual to bi-monthly.

It is only the men and boys that drink, but they drink to get drunk. And the byproducts of their drunkenness are the same as they are anywhere in the world; uncontrollable bodily functions, saying things you don’t mean, drunk dialing (aka drunk pasearing), frequent loss of clothing items, fighting, feelings of invincibility, occasional domestic violence etc. The saddest part for me is to see all of this play out in the middle of a community. It is not like they are drunk at a bar, or nightclub. They are here in the community, right in front families, acting as role models for their children, who absorb their actions. The store owner is so pleased with the success of his beer sales he tells me that he is saving to open a full bar in the community. “That’s where the money is” he says. He is right.

Generators-. There was one generator in the community 2 years ago, now there are over 10. Also, the small community across the bay was gifted a large generator to power the whole community. Now, I can look out across the bay, and where I use to see darkness I now see generator powered lights. Any given night in my community you will hear at least 1 generator humming (depending on who has money to buy gas), breaking the sound of the peaceful night. This is now the sound I fall asleep to…. And what new sound do I wake up to???

Chainsaws- cutting down our rain forest. A common saying among the expat population here is, “the only think more dangerous than a gringo with a machete is a Ngobe with a with a power tool.” We have had a few energies due to the chainsaws, but not nearly as often as the ex-pats seem to hurt themselves with machetes. The chainsaw alarm clock has become so frequent, that I actually look forward to the mornings where the roosters wake me up.

Stoves- Cooking gas is subsidized by the government, making it more affordable to purchase. Nearly all the homes here are switching from open wood burning stoves to gas stoves. I think this is a very positive change actually; Less cutting down of the rainforest for firewood, and less smoke pollution in the homes, causing future respiratory problems for the children. Not to mention less fire accidents and burn victims.

School- Oh the school, the government seems eager to throw money at the school. But they don’t seem to know how. So while the kids still have to share books, and essential school supplies, the schools storage room (which is right next to my house) Is loaded with basically useless items including; a huge ice chest, a dish drying rack that is three times smaller than pot the women cook lunch with, a blender, a TV and a DVD player. While other people in the community now have generators, the school is still without electricity. And even if they did have electricity, does the government really think that the first thing they would need is a blender? Oh and the ice chest? Shouldn’t the ice come first? Or is that one of those “if you build it they will come type of things.” Like if you buy an ice chest then the ice will come…. That would be nice, I would love some ice right now.

The government has also provided the students with a lot of new lunch items and snacks which produce a lot more trash!

Speaking of trash; Before, all their snacks came from their farms. They were wrapped in a nice biodegradable wrapper, natures packaging; ie, bananas, oranges, grapefruits, cacao etc. They could enjoy their snack and toss it wherever the pleased. Now they eat cookies and Cheeto-Puffs for a snack, yet the habit of throwing the wrapper on the ground remains. It’s not their fault; the practice of using a trashcan takes some time.

I’d like to think, that whatever change I inflicted in the community was positive change.

The other day we were purchasing our last water tank for the community. We made our purchases, loaded up our dugout canoe and headed back towards Buena Esperanza. As we were leaving the canal, about to reach the open ocean, we passed close to the local hospital dock. There was either a nurse or a doctor that was sitting outside taking a break. When our little canoe passed, weighted down with the large blue water tank, the hospital worker energetically threw two thumbs up in the air and yelled out “the community is progressing!” Our boatman yelled back “Si, si, Estamos mejorando la vida” yes, yes, we are bettering the life.

This is change I like to see! And it was the hospital, of all places, congratulating the people of the pueblo on making a positive change!

I know it has not just been the community that has changed over the past two years, I will be the first to admit that I have changed too. Even within my community. When I arrived 2 years ago as a very eager and overzealous foreign volunteer. I have been humbled by the realities and restraints of development work in a indigenous community. And I have accepted the “poco a poco” way of doing things

Also, I am sure that when I arrive back stateside you all may see changes in me as well. I can’t even remember who I was before I started this experience. I don’t feel like I have changed too drastically, but I am sure that an experience like this could only bring about overall positive change in a person, so I am not too worried about it.

A lot has changed back home too. There have been changes in the government, in the fashion, in pop culture, in music, in technology (don’t even get me started on that). My friend’s lives have changed and my family has changed as well. I feel like each time I talk to my parents, I am informed of something drastic that has changed, and my whole perception of “home” has to readjust. I try to stay positive when I think about all that has changed that has happened since I have been gone, and how incredibly different it is going to be when I get back. My dad has always told me that “things happen for a reason” or he reminds me that “change is the only thing that is constant in our lives.” He is right.

A few of you have asked me if I plan on coming back to visit my community one day. To be honest, I don’t know. I would love to see these people again one day, but part of me selfishly just wants to remember this place the way that it is.

However, if we think of change in regards to nature then we know that “you can never step into the same river twice” right? On the other hand we also know that “The dunes may be changed by the wind, but the desert never changes.” So, I am going to go with that last one. Though a lot has changed at home, I still have that very familiar heart of home and loved ones to welcome me back to. Likewise, when I decided to come back to visit Buena Esperanza, I know that no matter how many exterior or situational changes there may have been, the people and the memories will always remain.

~Meti

The One With the July Video

The One About the Kids

I am sure you are all aware that my time here in Buena Esperanza is closing in, about 2 more months to go. With that comes a lot of emotions. I am sure some of you are anticipating a blog post titled “The One about What’s Next” to be published in the near future. But not quite yet, you are just going to have to wait. There are still some posts I want to get in about my time here, before I start thinking, or I should say writing, about the future (I have been thinking about it for along time)

As the days pass, I realize more and more exactly what it is I am going to miss about Buena Esperanza. The list is long but when it comes down to it there is one thing I am going to miss far beyond anything else, the kids.

Not many jobs could compete with being a rural Peace Corp volunteer for the amount of daily hours we spend with children of all ages. They are a seemingly constant presence in my daily life in Buena Esperanza. Even as I write this, I am sitting in my hammock on my porch, it is 6:36 pm nearly sundown and there are 5 children sitting on my stairs, 3 children standing behind me starring at the computer screen, another 4 kids flipping through magazines on the ground around me, and then at least 15 plus kids playing soccer right next to my house, the ball occasionally (but not accidentally) hitting my zinc roof, making all of us jump, and them to giggle. This is the norm here, the kids are around from literally sunrise when they arrive to go to school, to sundown when they return the soccer ball, jump rope, harmonica, or book they borrowed.

If you don’t like kids, you should never ever be a Peace Corps volunteer in a rural community; in a community where contraception is not the norm, or against their religion, in a community where large families are the parents’ only form of social security. In these communities the kids crave attention, they all come from very large families and are longing to be noticed, recognized and to feel special. Sometimes, just remembering their name accomplishes that, or looking them in the eye and saying good morning, and if you really want to make their day, you should see their faces light up when you tell them they did a “good job” at something. And their longing for physical contact is evident when they all rush to hold our hand when you are walking.

But even though the kids are one of many, and they come from “poor” families, I would argue that their life really does challenge any life that money could buy for a child (except for the education and sanitation part) I have never seen kids as happy as the ones here. They are free to run and play with whatever they can find. Whether they are out in their little boats fishing or swimming, or out in the farm with their parents learning how to swing a machete, the kids always seem to be happy, with boundless energy. They are selfless because they have to be, they don’t complain about anything, they will eat whatever you give them, and most of them do not even know the word “bored.” They play baseball with a homemade ball made out of a clump of plastic bags tided together with rubber bands and their favorite pastime is a game including plastic bottle tops. They all love going to school, often arriving an hour early for class.

The family unit is very important here as well. They all live in very small humble homes, often sleeping all together on the floor. There are only a handful of parents who are absent from the home due to work, and most importantly, no one is ever alone, ever (except for Meti). I recently heard a statistic from a recent American father with a 9-5 job. He was so excited about the birth of his new son, that he dreaded having to spend so much time away from him at work. The new father did some basic math and discovered that throughout the 18 years of his child’s adolescences, he will be lucky to get even 4 years worth of time with him. That is not the case here. Families here are together for a lifetime.

Even though the kids here have this care free childhood, they still have to grow up a lot faster than the children in a developed country. They are given many household responsibilities at a very young age. And it seems to me that once they hit a certain age, they understand what this word “poor” means. A word their parents have been saying for years but they never really understood. I think once they understand that word, all the sudden fun is taken out of a lot of things and their life all the sudden gets a bit darker. Now they have to fish just to feed the family, or they have to go out to work the machete because “no hay plata” (there is no money) to buy food. Working on the farm, is not as fun if your parents are telling you that it is a direct byproduct of being poor, either is playing with that plastic bag ball for that matter.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love the kids even when they get to the age where they constantly ask me for things or money and tell me they are poor and there is no food and they are hungry. But it is when they are still so young and innocent and care free. These are the kids I am going to miss the most.

I have found myself nearly in tears lately when I am having a basic conversation with a little one, and I start thinking about how I am going to have to leave them soon. I know they would think I was crazy if I start crying in the middle of them telling a story about a crab that was running around in their house in the morning, so for their sake I maintain my composure.

Awhile ago, a woman in my artisan group asked me if I would ever take a Ngobe baby back to the states with me. I told her that we were not allowed to. She responded with “ok but if you find a baby in the trail when you were walking though … then you have to take care of it right?” The truth is I would love to take all of the kids home with me. But I know I can’t and to be honest, I could not say with complete certainty that life would be that much better for them back in the states.

So the question is: how am I going to leave these kids? They have brought so much joy to my life. Their smiles are contagious and their complete innocence gives hope to their generation. I try to tell them how lucky they are, and what a beautiful life they have, and they are not poor at all. Why dose “poor” need to be measured in monetary terms anyways. I think this word poor needs to be re-branded in Buena Esperanza! Let’s starting talking about who is happy, who is smiling the most, who has the most free time to spend with their family, or maybe even who has the largest variety of bananas, I don’t know. But what I do know is that these kids do have a lot to be smiling about, and they constantly remind me that so do I.

=)

Meti