La confianza

A few weeks ago, I interpreted for a patient's husband to get his taxes done for free at the nearby community center.  It was a super complicated return because he wanted to claim his ex-wife and children whom he supports in Mexico, and since he didn't have everything he needed, I suggested that he return the following Saturday morning.  However, my patient seemed frustrated.  She kept asking if they were just offering to do his taxes for free so they could take a cut of the money from his return, and when I said no, I'm pretty sure she assumed he'd still get less of a return.  I explained that the community center existed solely to help people, but no matter how hard I tried, I felt like she didn't believe me.  Of course, this may have been made worse because my knowledge about taxes is very minimal even in my native language, never mind in my second language.  And she had just paid to get her taxes done at H&R Block, so maybe she had the "you get what you pay for" attitude.  Granted, it's not like them paying for him to get his taxes filed elsewhere was a problem for anyone at the community center, but I still felt badly when the couple didn't return the following week.

I tend to be a very trusting person.  I usually give people the benefit of the doubt and very rarely am I incorrect in trusting the people around me.  However, I also haven't been taken advantage of for my entire life.  I haven't sat on the margins of society, waiting to be fooled by TitleMax and loan sharks.

When I spent the summer of 2009 doing research in South Philadelphia, the lesson I learned over and over again is that it's important to gain a community's trust when you enter it from the outside.  I was incredibly blessed to create beautiful relationships there, many of which are still going strong.  It was only after I took the time to listen, ask questions, and just be present that I was able to start unraveling the complicated life of people who are undocumented and who live in the shadows of main-stream U.S. culture.  Slowly but surely, the rift between "us" and "them" was lessened, and I learned incredible lessons in love, solidarity, and community.

Throughout my experience with MVC so far, I've discovered another important aspect to trust.  When I first began working at Good Samaritan Clinic, I was slower than I would have liked to suggest "improvements" for the organization.  I was a new set of eyes and ears, and I wanted to learn everything I could before I passed judgment.  I think this helped me gain the trust of the steering committee, volunteers, and possibly even the patients.  Although it was sometimes frustrating for me, "Yankee" as I may be (I've learned that "Yankee" is sometimes used as a synonym for someone who is rushed and impatient), looking back it's easy to see how much those first months paved the way for where I am now with the clinic.

I hope that as I go through my adult life, I never lose sight of the importance of gaining peoples' trust.  I hope that I take the time to build the relationships, observe, ask questions, and listen, even when it seems like I'm not getting anywhere.  And I hope that I remember that this is important whether I'm entering a new community with the Peace Corps or managing a project with a large organization.

A pensar

One of the most frustrating experiences of my life occurred while I was in Guatemala in May of 2010.  I was with a group from St. Joe's in a very rural area of the country, and our main job was mixing cement.  However, nearly every day there was someone new in charge of telling us what to do, and most of the time the guy didn't have much experience with cement.  Our group had figured out the correct ratio of piedra, arena, concreto, y agua pretty early on, and since the combination of hot sun and manual labor didn't mix very well, I felt myself often getting impatient with the Guatemalan men telling us to do something different and then realizing that they were wrong.  Of course, being a silly gringa, it would have been rude of me to tell these men that I knew better than them.  And since I was only there for 10 days, the whole situation became something to laugh about and to reflect on.

Lately, I've found myself reflecting on this experience a lot, especially on how it relates to my life right now.

I am a well-educated young adult.  I am very good at thinking things through and planning accordingly.  Unfortunately, this can be a gift and a curse when it comes to working at the Good Samaritan Clinic.

My roommates and I sometimes joke that after our year with Mercy Volunteer Corps, we should just open up a road-side stand where we can do peoples' thinking for them.  After all, that is what most of our jobs come down to.

I don't ever want to talk down to people.  I don't ever want to lose sight of the many challenges that my patients have had in their lives, especially related to poverty, abuse, poor education, neglect, etc.  I've had a remarkably easy life, and I have no right to patronize people whose shoes I can never walk in.

But, at the same time, part of me really does want to tell people to just trust me because I really do think I know better.  Maybe it's an ugly thing to think that I have the gift of foresight that many people don't have, and I feel guilty for saying that, but it's the truth.

En una mitad del año

Sometime this past week, I officially hit the halfway point of my year with Mercy Volunteer Corps.  It's kind of a strange feeling; part of me feels like I've been in Savannah forever, but the other part of me feels like I just arrived.  I can't imagine not going to the Good Samaritan Clinic anymore after July 15, but at the same time I'm very much looking forward to starting graduate school in August.

Coming back to Savannah after getting a very sweet taste of Philly for New Year's was harder than I expected.  I love my life here, but it was strange to be reminded of my "other life" on Hawk Hill.  I'm not really homesick, but I certainly miss being around lots of people I love at once.

I can't even begin to fathom a point in my life when I don't live with Linda, Regina, and Mike.  Or when I will make more than $100/month.  Thoughts of paying rent, worrying about transportation and insurance, etc. seem impossibly distant.

However, I also know that I don't want to work in a clinic for the rest of my life.  I love the issue of access to health care, but I can't imagine working in the type of environment I'm in now for more than a year.

I kind of feel like I'm in limbo.  I'm trying to be present and to just enjoy my time here, but when weeks drag on and it seems like I'm on a constant treadmill, it seems much easier to think about my end date.

I've been trying to decide if I've noticed any "changes" in myself since I've been in MVC.  I've come up with a few:
-I am WAY more cynical than I used to be.
-I am significantly more interested in politics/policies and significantly less interested in religion than I used to be.
-I am becoming more level-headed in dealing with my emotions.
-I am much better now at relaxing as a reward to myself for a long day of work.

Hmm...I can only begin to wonder what the second half of my experience will bring!

Somos voluntarios

One of the strangest parts of my job is being the volunteer coordinator.  I always feel really young when doctors/nurses/interpreters/whoever call the clinic for information and talk to me...it's like I'm a fake grown-up or something.

Good Samaritan Clinic is run entirely by volunteers.  It's something I love, but at times is an extra challenge.  After all, volunteers often have a different level of commitment than paid employees do.  Plus, everyone has their reasons for volunteering, which affect their attitudes and actions at the clinic.

As a general rule, my volunteers are awesome.  They recognize that they have time and talents which can be used for a greater good, and it's obvious that they're enjoying themselves when they're at Good Samaritan.  But there are a few people that are more difficult to deal with.  They may only come when they feel like it, completely disregarding the schedule that takes me forever to make.  They may be super demanding of the clinical coordinator's time and my time, always expecting us to dote on them and essentially kiss the ground they walk on.  They may be there to alleviate some sort of guilt they have, serving only to make themselves feel better and then talking about it constantly.  They may have very poorly informed opinions that they like to share, regularly inserting words that are inappropriate for a professional medical setting (see also: misusing the words 'gay' and 'retarded'...do you know how awkward it is to tell someone your parents' age that their language is inappropriate?!)

I have been a volunteer with numerous organizations.  I've also sat through a million reflections on why it's important to serve and whatnot.  But being on the other end has given me a lot of new perspective.

There are some people that just want to feel needed.  I have to essentially entertain them, even if it means wasting my time to come up with petty tasks for them to do.  It's hard to swallow sometimes because I really just want to tell them that their 4 hours per month is helpful but is not actually that important in the big picture.  But at the same time, I respect the fact that they're trying to do something for a greater good than just themselves.  

I wish I could tell everyone to be patient and flexible.  After all, those are probably the two most necessary qualities of people working at small non-profits, despite the fact they're so rare...

I can't help but wonder how many volunteer coordinators have gotten frustrated with me in the past...I just hope thinking about this makes me a better volunteer in the future at places where I'm not a coordinator.

Mi tocaya

"Tocayo/a" in Spanish means "namesake."  In some places, it is used generally to describe people with the same first names.

On Monday, I met a patient named Karla.  She is 19 years old, undocumented from Mexico, has two small children, and is suffering from genital herpes and depression.

I have talked to Karla several times on the phone since probably late November or early December.  She is a super sweet girl and I could totally imagine us being friends.

There are actually many women named Carla or Karla at my clinic, and also several named Lucia (my middle name).  But there was something about my interaction with this particular Karla that struck me.  Maybe it was the way she asked if I have children, or about what I'm doing this year, or about what I'll do after I leave Savannah.  Perhaps it was our closeness in age, our similar builds, and our almost identical names.

Sometimes, the amount of privilege I have just overwhelms me when I'm at work.  I get embarrassed of having a college education and of getting ready for graduate school.  I'm ashamed to say how many places I've visited. I have all the freedoms in the world: I'm young, single, and a U.S. citizen.  When I talk to people like Karla, I can't help but wonder how I seem to have drawn all the good cards.

El domingo de "Pro-Vida"

Disclaimer: This is going to be a rant.


Today is "Pro-Life" Sunday.  Our regular priest was sick, so a priest from the Cathedral came and celebrated the Eucharist.  He spoke terrible Spanish, so he said his homily in English and it was translated into Spanish.  I tend to dislike listening to things through an interpreter because it means listening to the exact same thing twice and I'm not that patient.  But the homily was perhaps the most painful 20 minutes of my life.

First, the priest started by saying that his Spanish was equivalent to most of the congregation's English.  I understand what he was trying to say, but many of the parishioners actually speak very good English, and since he didn't know anyone there, I thought it was extremely rude of him to assume that everyone only spoke Spanish.

The flow of the homily was also terrible because he paused every 2-3 words for the interpreter.  The key to using an interpreter is breaking what you say up into meaningful phrases because it's impossible to just translate things word for word.  So the interpreter, who was incredibly patient, had to back-track to make sure what she was saying made sense.

But my biggest problem with the homily was that all the priest basically said was that abortion was bad.  He started by explaining that Pro-Life Sunday was mostly about abortion in the U.S. because abortion is legal here "in our country."  Clearly he was not aware of his audience...the vast majority of the parishioners refer to their country of birth as "their country."  And as a whole, Hispanic Catholics are super conservative with life issues and would rather bring 10 kids into the world, even if they can't support them, than abort a pregnancy.

The reason that I got so angry during Mass was that I can't understand how people can view "Pro-Life" to mean "pro-fetus."  I hate that abortions happen, but making it illegal isn't the answer.

Here's my own Pro-Life homily:

We live in the wealthiest country in the history of the world.  As a society, we spent billions of dollars a year on cosmetic surgery, big screen TVs, cell phones that can do everything for us, and the most luxurious cars possible.  And we spend trillions of dollars making weapons each year to kill people who we see as "other."

As Christians, we believe that Jesus is the model for peace and love in our world.  As such, we have a duty to follow him and try to make the earth a better place.

Jesus was "Pro-Life".  But this doesn't just mean that he would condemn abortions.  Instead, it means giving respect to all living beings and thus working to create a society that promotes universal dignity.

A Pro-Life society would support women who are pregnant and new parents in whatever way they needed: economically, psychologically, or spiritually.  It would make sure that all people had enough nutritious foods to eat and had access to clean drinking water.  It would educate children well, regardless of the socio-economic status of their parents.  It would provide adequate health care for all.  It would protect the rights and fair wages of workers.  It would ensure that racist, sexist, homophobic, and xenophobic practices would not exist. And it would protect the quality of life until its very end, understanding that although life is sacred, it does not need to be artificially extended forever.

Life is the greatest gift that any of us have ever received.  When you begin to think about how many things could have gone wrong from the time we were conceived to the time we turned 2 years old, it is clear that we are absolute miracles.

As Jesus (and/or Spiderman) reminds us, to those whom much is given, much is expected.  We are not only living, but living in a society that has so much potential.  If only we could harness that to make our world a better place, instead of selfishly seeking our own personal advancement.

Una advertencia

I'm approximately at the half-way point of my year in Mercy Volunteer Corps, and I think the most important lesson of my experience is just starting to sink in.

I am extremely independent and I really like having control.  In college, this meant that I could do what I wanted to do: get good grades, raise money and awareness for the things I care about, spend time with friends, whatever.

But this year, I have to put my inclination to control aside.  After all, I'm only at Good Samaritan Clinic for year.  So while I can give my all to my patients and my work in general, it is not my role to control the clinic's future.  Besides, in six more months, I'll be moving on and will just be a speck in the clinic's memory.

This is not easy.  Right now, I feel anxious and stressed about some things going on at the clinic at the administrative level that I don't agree with.  And I have the type of personality that wants to fix things instead of leaving them at the mercy of others.

So, a warning to others who are leaning towards doing a year or two of service after graduation: you aren't going to change the world, or even the organization that you serve.  But there's a type of liberation in understanding that.  For me at least, it frees me to give all I can to the people I serve without having to come up with the answer to fix a small non-profit.