What is Peace Corps and what am I doing here?

What is Peace Corps?

Peace Corps is part of the US Development Policy and designed to be a grassroots, in that we are placed in difficult countries, some in extremely remote areas, and equipped with the barest of resources for 2 years and 3 months. What makes us different that the rest of the US development organizations is that we are apolitical, meaning that we cannot support of political party over another. The same is true with religion.

I am part of the Municipal Development program.

What is a Municipal Development?

Municipal Development, or ´´munis´´, are volunteers that usually live in the municipal center, or the pueblo of a municipality. The muni frame work is overall: to create a better quality of life. From there it divides into concrete objectives such as reinforcing established institutions through modernization, infrastructure, strategic/developmental plans, etc.

Ok fine, but what am I doing here? Good question! Here’s the skinny on what I’m doing.

I am working on several social development programs in site, they are:

* Comité de Transparencia: It’s been a long struggle to get this going, but recently, now under the direction from a governmental organization, we have now established interested parties willing to participate and become involved. The idea of this committee is to encourage citizen participation in politics and to note governmental operations. This way the community decides where the money is spent (ie, prioritization) and the community is aware of how the money is spent.

* Como Planear Mi Vida: The Life Skills curriculum focuses on issues such as self-esteem, leadership, communication, cultural awareness, mental health, etc. I am now teaching several of these issues in the grade school located in the pueblo of my town.

* Grupo de jovenes sobre el tema de Medio Ambiente: With the aid of two city council members, one a teacher in the elementary school and the other in the Office of Health, we have organized a group of students for the purposes of environmental education.

* Día de Adulto Mayor: Short-term project dealing with the recognition of our elders. I am aiding in the coordination of the event, the 30 of January.

* Poetry publishing project: Befriending the resident poet in my site, his work addresses a wide array of topics, from love to politics. I have been searching for an institution that would publish his work. Through the help of the US Embassy, I’m exploring one possible contact.

* Cultural Preservation: With the help of World Vison and city hall, I'm trying to document the ways Salvadoran use natural medicine to provide as means for medical attention. As most Latinos know, it's the first line of defense, then it's the 'vapour roub' for some families (Lord knows my family does it) and then the doctor. With World Vison, we're going to grow the herbs, they're going to show me how to prepare it and then I'm going to write it all down, submitting a copy to Peace Corps and World Vison.

Outside My Site

* Peer Support Group: Still in the initial stages, with the help of other Volunteers, we have put together a committee interesting in starting up this type of program. The idea of a Peer Support Group is to provide a group of trained volunteers to address the stressors of volunteer life.

Eastern Regional Conference: As Warden of the Eastern Region, it’s my job to communicate information from Office of Safety & Security to Volunteers in my region. I am also in charge of bi-annual conferences for the purposes of exchanging ideas, contact info, work ideas, etc. This year I am trying to coordinate an effort with the US Embassy to provide a more academic forum to increase our understanding of the country we serve.

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

Reboot

These days I’ve been exploring the land of El Salvador. In turn, I’ve also turned my thoughts inward. The solitary hikes I’ve been taking recently through the wayward carved slopes of my municipality, passed shanty lamina and cardboard houses that dot the back roads outside the pueblo, where little girls and boys stare at me in deep silence. Up here outside my pueblo I’ve been contemplating a sort of revelation that came at a most deeply personal moment in my Peace Corps experience. In the fog of thought, not yet sharp enough to extract solid figures, I have walked blindly inside, closing my eyes and stretching my hands in front of me, feeling out with my senses. In my thoughts I grapple with my approach toward development work and how that has been actualized thus far. Perhaps I’ve been thinking too big and trying to play too much of an oversight/admin position where, perhaps I should be more involved with the local community.

The local community. How close and how far have I been from them? I’ve been dissecting certain terms and certain words and how they apply to my behavior here in this country. From the top looking down, how social and political policies affect a nation and how they fail when they don’t understand the very people they are suppose to help has been on my mind.

The immigration issue and populist politics has two issues I think about often.

I recently heard an interview with Bolivian president Evo Morales. He spoke of his culture and the culture of respect that he and his people express as part of everyday livelihood. Even in his politics, where one would think it is impossible, he has been able to retain the dignity and pride of his people and his polices that he believes in without offending or threatening the world community. He has explained his position and worked toward an agreement for those that would listen. Be it in his defiance of coca reduced/eradication or nationalizing the natural gas reserves, he has maintained a friendly and open hand for discussion.

It’s that spiritual connection that we as industrialized nations have failed to see and respect. We saw the cultural ramifications in Mexico, when corn and beans became a global commodity and we’re seeing something similar that could occur in Boliva, out of a result of the same lack of understanding and respect of a culture and a people.

I started to think about that kind of respect, the kind of respect that comes from an open mind and an open heart. A respect that comes from understanding, a true understanding, rather than a heavy-handed paternal style of cultural interaction. Between the two, it's the former that I’d like to nurture and evolve, at least, I’d like to try.

I’m doing Community Contact stuff all over again and going back to basics. So far it’s been quite a sobering and refreshing experience. More than that, it has been a humbling one.

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

The Isle of Meanguera

The Isle of Meanguera

A small island located in an archipelago off of the South-East region of El Salvador, gritty and underdeveloped for tourism by means of access and infrastructure, the island proved a perfect adventure for these two volunteers that set to know the land that, for what I derived, was virtually untouched by the volunteer community.

Below are the photos of the adventure along with commentary:


So we got lost for a bit before finding the port that docked the “lanchas”, or small boats that left to the island. It seems that the lanchas do not leave from the main Port of La Union. Luckily the bus driver took pity on us and took us on the rest of his route until heading back to point us in the right direction. Luckily Salvadoran culture does not run by the same rules as we do on time so, even though we had ten minutes to get to the dock, we really have about forty-five minutes.


Sailing off to the island! Forty-five minutes past 10:00 am (which is the “scheduled” time of departure). Right on time for El Salvador.


Can’t see it very well but it’s a community pila used for washing clothes. If you can squint and use your imagination you can make out the women tending to the clothes (sorry, no washing machines and no womens’ lib)


April checking out the lancha heading toward La Union. I think she’s checking out the Salva, what I’m not “latino” enough? Dammit, I’m from the streets and I’m college educated, what more do want?








Okay these photos show the mackshift dock we stopped at because people wanted to get off instead of docking where the boats usually goes. It seemed they had family at this particular point. Check out the grannies leaping off the boat. I don’t think my grandparents can do that…pshhh, they’re soooo Americanized, um, yeah I know one set can’t speak English but still…


Looks cute, right? But I promise you, you would of pushed the little sh*t off the boat if you would heard him talking back to his grandma…damn you machismo, why do they start so young? PS. Thank’s Mom and Dad for not raising it with it, that’s soooo developing world.


Side view of the hotel.


Front view of the hotel.


View from the hotel overlooking the bay.


The cabañas where we stayed. Our room was off to the left, the son of the owners was on the right. I know, I know, but the nice rooms were REALLY NICE and out of our budget (located on the second floor of the hotel) since we had a lot of expenses that week (remember had the Shakira concert later that week).


I miss you so much.


Thus we embarked on our trek that took about an hour and a half to find the black sand beach.


Cute, huh? Well I think it is.


We’re walking, we’re walking.


Uh, so there’s not really a trail to get here, it’s more like forging your own path. Oh El Salvador, always an adventure.


Found it!


All to ourselves…save the fourteen year old guide, the old couple that sold us coco water and their children seated in the foliage looking at us…um, yeah.


Further in, further up (does anyone else get the C.S. Lewis reference here, I guess not).The jouney home. We decided to try to short cut. Hiking directly up and over.


See where the mountain spilts in two? That’s where we’re headed.


Looking back at the black sand beach.


Same thing.


Still climbing.


One of many breaks.


FINALLY!


That night, the last night on the island before our 5 am lancha ride back to shore which left at 6:00am because they didn’t want to take the bigger lancha and wanted to leave us and another couple on the island. Oh hells nah, you ain’t gonna do that.

We make it back safe after traversing through 50 yards of mud to get to dock, wish I had a picture of that.

It was truly an amazing trip; the only comment is about the hotel. One of two and the only real option for tourists, while the American owner has his own vision, his Salvadoran wife is more the realist when it comes to accomidating budget tourists. While he wants only luxury rooms (he even tried to shame me to move to the nicer rooms, please, I was raised Catholic you're gonna have to do better than that, but if he would have followed his argument with “…and you will burn in hell if you don’t” I would have considered it) the island itself lacks many of the basic amenities one would expect for the projected vision and cost of the hotel. I don’t want to list all of them but the main ones are: access to the hotel which is quite a dangerous walk adn hard to get to (needs signs), access to the beach, which is a very long or very dangerous climb. The infrastructure is not there for the clientele envisioned I feel, getting to and off the island is more a gamble than certainty. Plus, for what you’d be paying once the hotel is complete, do you really want to get up at 4:00 am to mayyyybe get a boat ride back to the island?

To be fare, the current costs of the rooms are affordable and the rooms I should comment are beautifully decorated, each with its own personality. They truly are worth seeing and the bathtub in itself is the reason I want to go back. The feel of the place in sheer serenity with the first floor all to yourself. I plan to visit the island again before they finished the hotel, because the rooms are that nice. I have a lot of hope for the place. I feel the wife will pull her husband to a more happy medium as far as cost go. Plus I applaud their efforts in giving back to the community helping out with minor projects.

I truly feel we need a serious volunteer on this island to tackle the major problems of trash and eco-tourism. There is a lot of potential there and with enough helping hands they could definately see a huge surge in tourism dollars for the community. Many of these issues are not soley large scale, food options is one small example, including plastic bags for trash within the lancha is another. While the Salvadorans were tossing their garbage out along side the boat I heard a Guatemalan woman scoff under her breath at their behavior. Let's not scoff, let's educate!

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

The Modern World, Part I: Decompressing

“Everyone here in the states seems to be going so fast. Everyone is racing their way through only there is no finish line.”
- Fenix C., posted in her blog after her 6 week South American tour

On Autobahn to Oz

Those of you that read this blog know that I went home for a spell during the last week of September until the 1^st week of October. The nature of that visit will be left for the next entry along with more coherent narrative, decorated with photos. At the moment, after a steady diet of everything, after the digestion and through the blur of what was a 10 day visit to the States; I am just now I am beginning to wrap my head around the experience…in what alcoholic’s call, “a moment of clarity”.

Never before in my history of travel had I ever felt like a stranger in my own country. Coming home has always brought a sigh of relief, a normalcy, as I’ve come to know it. But for what occurrences I attribute to my…change? upon my second trip to the States my sense of familiar ran as quickly as the current after a storm. I felt nervous, apprehensive and a little lost. Where my life ended in the developed world, everyone else’s continued. It was impossible to catch up, too much had gone on and we lacked the time and vocabulary to convey it all. I felt, as a developed nation, the US moves incredibly fast and no longer having my own niche carved out in that modern landscape made me feel more like a visitor on a 10 day Visa.

The times that did feel familiar were few: within the walls of my own home, my barrio, where two doors down lies the home of my grandmother, her home cooking always in the air, twenty minutes west, at the house of my other grandmother, were we food and conversation are never done without the other. I tried to be within those walls as much as possible because it was within that arena that I felt familiar. Running around the cemetery with my father, catching up at the local Starbuck’s with my mother…

The urban regional planning of Southern California was made for the automobile and thus, although it felt incredible exhilarating driving again, still just within a few days of driving I began to feel trapped inside my car going from one end to other, time moving inextricably fast. 20 minutes to get to point A, 35 to point B and the time it took to get back home all while traffic got worse and worse with each passing minute.

My younger brother maneuvered it all like I use to, pushing his body to the limits of exhaustion, his face, semi-permanently look of fatigue…I couldn’t keep up. But it was that time we had together, as exhaustive as it was for me, that I enjoyed most, for very personal reasons.

In El Salvador, they call the Eastern region the “Forgotten Zone” due to the results of the war, shoddy infrastructure, lack of development and floodings. Nothing could be farther from the truth for the United States. A more concentrated urban regional plan connected through an amazing subway system, the Virginia/DC area had a huge effect on me (the reason for the 2^nd visit to the US). But it wasn’t just the regional plan that had such an effect on me, what culture shock I lacked when I landed in Los Angeles I did have in Virginia/DC. The pulse I felt in this area within this hub of international exchange was more than just connected to the service/entertainment sector. I felt a more involved participation on a much more academic and political level. I felt more people understood what I was talking about when I talked about Peace Corps or my interests.

At home I tried to convey my Peace Corps experience but it was difficult for them to understand. How could they? The idealist couldn’t believe some of the things I said and the realists didn’t care. Many didn’t understand. For those that were little as two generations from their respected patria still couldn’t wrap their heads around it. The same could be said for many I met in DC but there was a social conscious for those that I met that nodding with an aspect of understand more than just out of respect.

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

Que La Vida Me Entrega

And your humble narrator now submits to himself to you all. In what were 3 days spent in The City on Top of the World, a land in the clouds here in El Salvador whose appearance defies all logical placement in this tattered country and in what was now over a week ago, has left yours truly in a state of blissful urgency. In what abstraction I still find myself in I have torn from the reverie and matters pertaining to the long list of August events of which you will find your narrator taking an active participatory role, has sat down for but a few moments to write to you all.

Arrested with a stare, brushed by a Seraph’s wing I am left awestruck with but my breath to remind me that I am still among the living.

Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

On Work

So I realized…well, I didn’t really realize, I just wanted to sound as if by some epiphany, some inspired divinity of selfless goodness that I over looked that this website has been dedicated to everything OTHER than my Peace Corps experience. Granted I do write about politics and news and, well, frankly, it’s more interesting. I’ve gotten so many more responses the bloodier or controversial I make the postings. Part of it was as a social experiment, the rest, a morbid fascination, but hey I can’t help it, it’s my major.

Anyhow, don’t get me wrong, I love what I’m doing here and after a year I’ve gotten use to almost all the things that drive me mad (again, another self inflected experiment, I know, I know) but I still have retained the availability to disconnect and see my work from an outsiders perspective (some call it apathy or an anti-personality complex but since everyone uses antisocial incorrectly and confuse apathy for empathy, I’m in the clear). You know what happens when tell myself what I do as a 1st worlder without the 3rd world experience?

Oh what great work. Wow, I never could do it (I’d never want to do it, but I’ll keep that to myself). Wow, how is that country that I don’t care about and will never visit in my life. Tell me more about it…Zzzzzz. Isn’t there a gang problem there? You know, my gardener, who I thought was Mexican is actually Salvadorian, who knew? Zzzzzz.

Now the reasons are many-fold and really and to get right down to it, being 1st worlders (more specifically 3rd generation-ers and on), those “little things” that often make us smile as we struggle through our Scope of Work, that “Big Deadline” that “Big Appointment” or that “Big Project” really, is all I have, while for you, well, it’s different. Cause for you guys rather than the constant, it’s the anomaly. Think of it as the Friday Night Hallmark movie or the inspirational testament from Channel 11’s “Wednesday Child”. Looking at it, it’s just a block of time that you give up basically because your either to hung over to change the channel or going through some crisis and are looking for external support (I don’t have the research to back it up with me, it’s at home, ask my mom for the box). Really, those little things really are not that important to you. I mean really, think about. If that were so then why don’t we all go back to where we came from? Why are we saturating ourselves in this post-industrial country wasting all of our money with entertainment and luxury and saving nothing?

Well…because it’s nice…and, quiet comfortable.

Oooh, are those 600 count sheets made of Egyptian cloth? I have the red ones.

So you see, not having these things, the luxury items nor the entertainment factor (although I admit I’ve been able to intelligently get most of them back) along with constant face to face time with abject poverty, you know, that thing you drive by on your work after downing your double shot Venti Mocha with the double sleeve wearing the latest Kenneth Cole Reaction series (which is fabulous) all while planning your weekend with your friend on your brand new Motor Razor, is what I am forced to see everyday and it’s gotten to the point that I am apart of it (someone call Daxia, my threadest, she’s going have a heart attack). Now c’mon, don’t be shy about how I described you, let’s be honest here people. Look, I did all that stuff and I know you do all that stuff, I’m not judging. I’ll have you know that, well, when I get back, I, I plan to do it all again (except you Daxia, sorry, I don’t see the need anymore but Anne, my anestitian, you’re still on speed dial). Actually, I plan to do it when I come back for Pnod’s wedding. Okay, maybe I won’t have the latest Kenneth Cole series, but I’ll at least have a Razor…I mean, c’mon, I’m a 1st worlder.

Well anyhow the point of this blog is to share Work, so enjoy because it may be the last one for some time since the next pending blogs pertain to El Salvador & Iraq, my 11 year old pimp and a very angry commentary on El Salvador & Tourism among others.

Yesterday, 26/June/06 I had my 1st successful Medical Brigade in the poorest cantón (it’s a poor rural area, think of trailer parks and people with mullets without teeth holding Budweisers) in my municipality. Now I say it was my 1st success because I had a Medical Brigade before and it was, well, a failure (along with many others). I could complain as to why, but it would take up too much space, so let’s talk about it over a Ocean’s 12 martini (with the edible flowers) at Lola’s with some bruschetta and calamari (your treat) before heading off Temple Bar for some live music. Anyhow…as you may remember (okay, you don’t) I have a new administration, the right-wing ARENA party. Now, say whatever you want about them (which won’t be much) but I like these guys. Now, I’m saying this because at the municipal level it really does not matter what party wins, what matters is the team and their vision (and that they keep their promises after the elections). I like their vision for my town and they’ve been good about promises so far. Never had I had the support of an administration like this one (and I’m speaking with a WHOLE 13 months of experience here, c’mon now, I’m practically a native [shudder]). After leaving with bad terms with the Medical Brigade from the 1st disaster the empire of ARENA recovered face and went beyond. How do they do it? Keep reading

First off, a Medical Brigade is not the check you sign for the tax write off, it’s an actual event (who knew?). It’s basically a small team, in this case based in San Salvador and these guys offer $2 for medical consults with free medicine. Side note, two leading medical problems in El Salvador: diarrhea and dengue (I’ve had one of them so far). Now, with the AMAZING support from city hall we organized a FREE consult for the residents of this impoverished area. Now I wish I can put a comment about politics here but I would then have a nice discussion with my Director that would effect my stay here and I don’t want that so ask me about this over a small latte with just half a pump of vanilla (yes, I know you still have to charge me) and a slice of carrot cake which we’ll need after that dinner at PF Chang’s (oh those Lemon Drop Martinis were simply divine, weren’t they?).

Now I didn’t get any thanks or any glory from the event (now don’t canonize me just yet, I want glory and I’m still on the lookout) but I did feel intrinsically good about it and the interaction I had with the residents was incredible. Below are some pictures of the campaign. The little girl you see was the highlight of my day. Damn I feel good about being here today. Of course, there are still the hours that remain from when I wrote this until I post this blog.

¿Puta madre y quien sabe que puede pasar en ese tiempo? Somos fregado…buey.

No I won’t translate what I just wrote….ask your gardener…and tell him I said hi, chances are he’s from my town.


Isn't she cute?

My crew

My 2 Live Crew

I'm vain

Introduction with the Sindico

Front Shot

Campasino

People In Waiting

Consult

Sitting, and Waiting and Wishing

Sitting, and Waiting and Wishing II

Cutey

Close Up


'I feel No Pulse'


'Uh, Sir...Sir!'


'Uh...Is This Thing On?'


Your Affectionate Volunteer,

SCRUTAPE

The Center Will Hold

I was recently composing another compilation CD to add to my growing playlists. As some of you know I enjoy making theme based CD’s for people and for my own creative expression. Recently I have been in bit of a mood due to personal reasons unrelated to my service here in El Salvador which is absolutely stellar. As for the mood behind the smile that is something of a delicate matter and I am utilizing all of my cognitive resources to deal with it. Back to the matter at hand, I was in the middle of creating a new CD, two actually, entitled: El Salvador – The Black Album and El Salvador – The White Album. Like Janus, Freud, Jung, Lynch and others before me, duality is an issue I have particular interest in and I wanted to express the bipolar relationship of the country through my eyes in song.

The first CD, The Black Album is just about complete, 13 songs of violence, aggression and futility, the number holding significance to Salvadorian gang culture. I was reviewing the tracks and decided to take a break to read an article in the paper recommended by our assistant director who informed us via email. As I read it I realized something I had not before, for whatever reason, I missed it, a bigger concept not found in the pages of the newspaper, an exercise in critical thinking or human apathy. Reading the paper everyday can and does make one cynical, yes it leaves one informed, but the amount of violence this tiny country experiences far exceeds the pages allotted. In turn, along with my current mood has created a sort of symbolic relationship that may not be the most beneficial to my own cognitive welfare.

As I read the article, for a brief moment between the starting gun blast of song one fading into the next song citing, in a modern twist, the Code of Hamurabi (if you remember it, it’s the one that that’s famous for “an eye for an eye”) I realized something about El Salvador’s urban police force that made take a look outside the headlines. Granted there is rampant corruption within the flanks and measures are being taken to correct hem, but aside from that the notion that dawned upon me, between the newspapers piling on my floor showing screaming deputies or marred bodies and the Black Album filling my living room (substituted then by Gershwin), I thought of those men and women putting their lives at risk in the most violent nation in the Western Hemisphere. It stopped me for a moment. The most violent country on this half of the world and these uniformed officers deal with it everyday. Remember, this is the country where maras (or Salvadorian gang members) throw grenades at clubs for petty matters and alcoholism is as common as having a family member in the States. All things considered, it says something about integrity and sheer will of the people of this country. Here in the rural areas of El Salvador where I am stationed, I enjoy a crime free zone with utmost liberty to come and go as I please at all hours of the day and night. Coming from an urban sprawl such luxury is rare (save in small ethnic barrios) and I imagine San Salvador, the nation’s capital, to be very similar my own city of origin in that sense.

When you think about the urban police force here, they make very little, some, if not all, take on other forms of employment to make ends meet. Yet with the level of hostility and danger they are exposed to, one wonders how the government is able to retain so many different units of public regulation with bodies to fill these positions. Somehow, within all that has been going on in this country since the Conquest, the center has held. These men and women, rather than sitting at home waiting for a check from one of their family members from the States, rather than running to States themselves or flooding themselves in a fugue of drugs and excessive alcoholism have chosen, for whatever reason to stay and fight.

I realize now how every person fights their battles in the best way they know how. Some use a pen and others a sword and El Salvador has those that have tackled all available areas of injustice, with the bottom line being: many have chosen to stay and fight. With this combined effort, through the power of sheer will, maybe El Salvador will one day see the change it so richly deserves. El Salvador, literally, The Savior, it’s ironic that a country plagued with a history of dictators, oligarchies, social stratification, massacres, oppression, civil war, desperation, PTSD, violent crime, maras, earthquakes and floods should be named as such. To draw an artistic license (inserting El Salvador rather than Mexico and inventing the rest) from a quote by former Mexican dictator, Porfirio Díaz, I think to myself, solely letting the words roll from my tongue: poor El Salvador, so far from God and so close to salvation.