Reflections of a Volunteer 
by Adriana Van Bianchi

 


     Sitting under the papaya and plantain trees, I cried.
 

Not quietly either. No, I let myself cry loudly and wallowed in everything that reminded me of home. At that moment, I couldn't think of anything about home that I didn't miss. Volunteering at Si a La Vida has been the hardest work I have ever done, and some days I don't think I will be able to make it for a year. I am so far away from my family and my friends to whom I am a needed and intricate part.

     Here, I sometimes feel ostracized because of my lack of language skills and because I am new and going through a difficult screening process with the chavalos** which requires that I slowly earn their respect. Sometimes I enter the proyecto and am smothered with hugs and yelling kids. Other times I am utterly ignored. I am always being tested to see what they can get away with, how they can trick me or how they can make me believe their lies. And unfortunately, they usually get away with it.

     So this particular day, I proposed to the chavalos that we go plant the seeds where the new center is being built. All week we saved the seeds to plant from the fruit of the watermelon, nancite, anona and oranges we ate at our meals. The chavalos had been interested in the project all week, but when the time came to actually do the work, no one was interested. And so, by myself I made the walk to the plantain grove and by myself, crying the whole time, planted the seeds and thought of home.

     Starting at six every night I am on duty at the project. As I entered the project, Alexander one of the chavalos ran towards me and with his mischievous look that always puts me on red alert, told me to close my eyes and hold out my hand. Now I have had bugs put down my shirt, centipedes dropped in my hand and paint smeared in my hair, so I first made him promise not to put anything wet or dirty in my hand. "Yes, yes, I promise" he replied, and I warily put out my hand. And around my wrist he tied a pulsera* The first pulsera that I have received here. From the same kid who last night was infuriated with me and refused to speak to me because he didn't have permission to leave the house. And for the hundredth time since I came here, my heart melted and I felt the tears right there behind my eyes.

     Monday nights are the weekly group therapy session with psychologist Karla Varela. Everyone takes part; the chavalos, Jonathan Roise, and all the other educators. This week, the exercise was to talk about an object that has sentimental value to you. The session started off as a disaster. The chavalos all talked at once. "This pen has sentimental value because it's mine!" "My shoes are important!" "I don't have anything important." I looked down at the pulsera on my wrist and raised my hand to speak. But the tears came first and everyone was shocked into silence. I told the truth to the group. My day had been horrible, I missed home and I felt like I had no friends here. I told them I hated it when we were mad at each other, but this gift of the pulsera, made me realize, through it all, we can still love each other. 

Stunned silence as everyone stared at the emotional Gringa. The silence was broken by another chavalo who spoke up. "Adriana, you have a friend in all of us." And he gave me hug. Silently everyone gave me a hug. The mood was set, and another chavalo spoke up. He had no object of value; instead; he talked about his first days in the Casa Amanecer in Managua. How he had been so welcomed and how happy all the educators had been when he told them he was there to stay. The Casa had changed his life, and for that he was thankful. He too was in tears by the end of his turn.

More chavalos spoke, they talked about how the casa how thankful they were for the chance they had been given. And for that hour that we talked and cried, I felt like we were all a family. We were all working together, teaching and learning from each other a new way of living. At the end of the session, we closed our eyes and Karla passed a candle to everyone and we held the candle and thought of anything wonderful. Chavalos and educators alike were in tears and when we stood up and hugged each other, the hugs were full of emotion and love. 

So once again, when I believe I have reached the end of my rope, something so wonderful happens and once again I am ready to face another day here in the Casa Amanecer in Ometepe, Nicaragua.

*Pulsera = Friendship bracelet
**Chavalos = Kids

 

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