Digging holes... Gettin'er Done!

I have just about hit the two month mark in my site. Two months of slowly integrating, slowly learning, and slowly adapting. I have been ready to start a project for a while now so I figured ‘why not’ and did just that. For us Peace Corps Volunteers the first few projects at site are called ‘easy wins’ simply because they are in fact ‘easy wins’. They are projects that do not take a ton of planning and are pretty hard to fail at. With this goal in mind, I discussed with my community’s local government about a hole filling project and with their approval put my plan in action this Saturday.A hole filling project? What the heck is that, and what does it have to do with rural health? This is what you are asking yourself.Answer: There are two large fosas (holes) that are remains of the house building project that was completed a few years ago. These holes were very useful at the time, they were made in order to mix cement for the construction process, however lately, meaning the last two years, they have done nothing but take up space. And what I mean by taking up space is that they have been serious health hazards for the community for two main reasons: reason one; they are a danger for the kids. Think about it, summer time, bored kids… let’s do some hole jumping! NOT ON MY WATCH! Filling these suckers up is going to save some limbs! Reason two, mosquitoes. Mosquitoes love dark/damp spots to grow. They also love spreading dengue and malaria – aka, they all must go. These holes were hitting ‘Peace Corps Volunteer’s pain in the ass’ with an honor roll grades. It was simple, letting the holes continue to be holes, would be letting the terrorists win.Thus, by filling the holes, we are killing the mosquitoes and saving the children. With death comes life, right? Anyway, Saturday at 2pm, armed with a shovel, a goal and 10 bags of chips (snacky poo’s for those who wanted to work) we filled the heck out of those holes. On a serious note, it was a great opportunity to work with the community, let them know that I am note afraid to get dirty, and I finally felt like one of the guys! All in all a success! Life is good!





Let's take a look at what we are dealing with. You can't really get a perception of the depth here (get it? depth perception?) - but trust me it is really deep, I would have to climb to get out.

Here is my sister. She is nice, sometimes she makes fun of me.

Can you guess which one is me? That's right! Far right, blue shirt, in the background

Fill that hole up!

What?! You didn't think I could pick-axe?

"Here's a shovel, can you dig it?" - Tag Team (back again)

I'm looking for dirt everything!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

One of my boys.
This is Oscar, he passes the ball to me in soccer. Thanks for that.


ALMOST DONE!

OH BABY!!!!!!!!!


TAKE THAT MOSQUITOES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bull Sh@t: A Fecal Matter

Hello my fellow gringos! Another week has gone by, bringing another Sunday, in which I am able to make reflections and order coffee while I use the internet.

For starters, bull sh@t* is not a joking matter, it is a serious matter, a rural matter, and withoubt a doubt, a fecal matter.

*bull @hit can also be spelled: shi@, shi@, and @hit

I spent Saturday morning with my house mom trying to complete my cenus of the community. There are two houses in my community that are 'off the beaten path' - which is really interesting because my site is 'off the beaten path', which means that these houses are off the beaten path of the beaten path - more or less this means these houses are seriously in the middle of nowhere.

Anyway, I had just finished a census, and was returning to my place. This requiers walking up a foothill of a moutain, crossing a small river and just all together enjoying life, needless to say, I was enjoying myself. My sister was leading the way, I was drafting behind her while my mom here was in third place. We had just crossed a fence, only to be met with a team of torros (bulls). Being that I am in El Salvador, and this is a pretty common occurance, I thought nothing of it and started to walk past them. Little did I know that one of those bulls was planing... planning something great.

Looking back, I saw it all happen right in front of me. This bull was cautiously waiting, waiting and thinking, planning, waiting and oh yes, thinking! My sister was five feet past this lil' bastard when all hell started to break loose. This meant that I was directly in the eye of the storm. I was staring at the cows eyes and noticed his face was strainging. This was followed with the bull either performing kegel excercises and/or trying to rip a nasty fart.

What passed after this, can only be related to by Mae Saul and those who have visited Yellowstone National Park. This bull opened up old faithful - directly on me. It was a storm of feces, mixed with a concert of flagelants in what was without a doubt Bose System surround sound. I will compair it to the movie "300" in which the fighting was so brutal that the arrows blocked all the light from the sun. This is exactly what happen, with the exception of replacing arrows of death with arrows of poop. Plants died, children wept, and I gagged trying to determine which parts of me were not drenched in what looked like pourage.*

*It did not smell like pourage.

After I thanked the bull, I began to run for the nearest stream. In which I transitioned into a four year old in a rain storm, jumping up and down splashing water all over my body yelling, "is it over yet? Please GOD, let it be over!" This was followed by my second bath of the day, and me retelling my tell of how a bull through its poop on me.

I am well, I am finally clean, but I will NEVER be the same (fecally speaking).

Jimbo

the meeting

This Tuesday I had my ‘townhall meeting’, a huge day in my Peace Corps tenure, being that it was my official entrance into the community. My boss was scheduled to visit, I told the community about the meeting, and took the time to prepare a speech outlining some of the ideas and goals that I have as the community and I start to work together.

Of course, as with everything in the Peace Corps, one has to keep an open mind. Originally, I had told my community that the meeting would take place at 2pm on Tuesday. I sent this message via visiting the school and going door-to-door. However, I received a phone call from my boss, he notified me that he would be coming into town around 4pm. So, Tuesday morning, I remade my rounds to let people know of the time adjustment.*

*Buenos dias, como está ud? Estoy muy bien, gracias, solo pasiando por acá para informale que hay un cambio en el tiempo de la reunion hoy.

This is something that I said at every house. I wanted to tell them that there was a change in the meeting time… what did I actually end up telling them?

Good day, how are you? I am well, thank you, I am passing to tell you that there is a change in the weather of the meeting.

**This has added to the mystic of the Gringo in town. People gave me really awesome looks, and I wasn't sure why... but now I know.

However, even though most was lost in translation, people showed for the meeting! Ran into a little bit of trouble around 4pm - it started to rain (it always does at 4). My boss didn't show up till 5pm because he had other meetings and the weather was bad - which meant that a bunch of people left my meeting before it started so that they could cook dinner and what not (rememember, there is no electrcity, so there is a running clock on the days activities here).

When my boss came, things went really great! For those who remained, my boss was able to explain to them who I was, why I was here... what I would be doing! It was really great to have a native of El Salvador explaining all this - what an aid.

After my boss spoke, I gave my speach. I wrote it down on notecards, obviously because I was nervous... I had to run and get my flashlight because it was dark - this made people laugh. However, I said what I needed to say and the meeting concluded.

Best part of the day (besides my meeting going smoothly). My counterpart who lives in another city told me that my language has really been improving. I have noticed this as well, considering I am starting to understand most that people say to me...

It was a great day, and I believe that more of them are to come!

paz,
jimbo

My Birthday Weekend! It was the Shit(s)

First off, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH for the birthday messages! I seriously have the best friends and family in the world. From all the birthday cards... to the 45 minutes I spent talking to Vraniak, Willy, Codi, Mary and Alex!!!!!!! Seriously, I felt like I was back home.

I need to send an apology to a certain David James Hannon. David, thank you for calling me to say happy birthday - I am very sorry that I pulled a "leddy" and sounded really out of it. My buddy Dave, called me Saturday morning. He just ran a marathon in Khazaksthan (spelling?... whatever). He called to say happy birthday and tell me he ran it (I thought he said he won but im not sure... ). Long story short, I stayed out all night and was a little under the weather! Sorry Hanbone - holler back at me I have some stories!

Speaking of being under the weather, and I'm sure all of you think that I was just hungover after my celebration, I got tested and learned that I had a bacterial infection (my second to date). HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! I was pretty sick, if you consider everytime that you eat something you need to do it near a bathroom! But other than the awkward stomach noises and me hoping that people lost their ability to smell - I had such a blast in the city!

The first night in town we all hit up an "Irish" pub. We ran into some government officials who actually bought a round for us!!!! That was rad. After a few drinks, we took off for a club and I spent the night learning how to dance and trying to speak spanish.

"Puede ensenarme como bailar" Can you teach me how to dance?

The girl responds - "I'm from LA, I speak english... and yeah I will teach you real quick".

This was awkward moment - but I learned a lot. I am going to have MAD MOVES when I get back to the states.* *refer to blog entry about weddings

The second night, the whole gang (about 12 of us) took off on the town. Another night of having a few drinks, laughing and dancing. Long story short, I may have stayed at the club until 6am. And the night may have ended with me in a breakdancing circle teaching 12 guys how to do the moonwalk. So obviously, I haven't changed a bit between my 13th and 24th birthdays!!!!!!

I really missed being home with my friends, but I must admit that the other volunteers really came through! I have made some pretty great friendships in the short time I have been here... you kind of have to. Sink or swim together! I will never forget my first birthday over seas!

LIFE HERE

Things are going slowly here. I have been pretty stressed, and have been letting my boss know where my head is at... which has been a great way to vent/get advice. I have learned that I live in a resetlement community. A post-war zone where famillies have moved to start over. Some families have only been here a few months longer than myself - this explains the lack of community I feel. Also, because I live in guerrilla territory and the United States gave support to the Salvadoran government durning the war - some of the people here are a little slow on accepting me. I need to emphasis that there is no hate towards me, rather, people are just careful around me... no one really starts convo's with me, and are always very curious as to why I ask questions.
I have decided to 'start over' if you will. I am going to dive into the school... just teach and play with the kids, and hope that eventually that trust will spread to every other part of the community. Long term, I know I can do it, the day to day is just hard.

I have been flying through books. Which is odd, for those of you who know that I am a hooked on phonics kid. I just read a book called "The Sparrow" and another titled "The Glass Castle"... I do not know why I bought thoose books, but man there are sections in each that directly relate to my situation right now. They are both really keeping my head strong!

I am starting to work out a little. Pushups, abbs, and pullups everyday. I am loosing that, 'hey that kid kind of has guns' look... more or less I need to get my sexy bad*

*muscles come and go... chest hair always stays...

I have my presentation over my census/diagnostics this tuesday!!!!! I am a little nervous about it, just because it is a presentation in front of my community (all in spanish). I am geared though because my boss is coming and I will be able to ask him for some much needed advice!

Send me some emails everybody! leddyjam@gmail.com seriously, even if the most exciting thing you did this week was show up to work late - I want to know about it... hahaha.

Paz,
jimbo

My Place/ The Hike into Town

Wakey Wakey, eggs'n bakey!!!! Bienvenidos a mi cama (I sleep here peeps)

After I get up it is STRAIGHT to the kitcken where I eat some tortillas and eggs
Then it is time to wash up! BUCKET SHOWER IN THE PILA
This is where my family lives. The right side is the kitchen area, to the left, is where they sleep.
Here is a glimpse of my little house. It is in front of theirs, this is my porch where I study during the day, play guitar and read at night!

Here is a another view... you can see my boxers drying in the sun. I washed them myself (by hand). The tractor is broke down from the project that built the new houses... kind of a cool ornament for your yard.

VAMANOS! Lets start the walk to where I pick up the bus and can buy soda!
You need some hiking boots folks (especially if it has rained!)
No joke... I think I fell here once, it gets slippery when wet. About 15 minutes of fast hiking, and you hit this view as you hit the top of the foothill! This is my prize!!!!!!!
How sick is this? It is like the green of ireland, with the sun of central america!

Ten minutes later, you enter the neighboring town (here is the church).
Here are some remains from the war... this house was burnt down - you can see the bullet holes here.
The road into the town.
More of my view! Wasn't the best day to take pictures, but even if it was perfect and I had a better camera these shots would not give it justice. "You should have seen that sunrise with your own eyes" JM - you guys have to come here!

Girlfriends and Weddings: An Inverse-Ratio

Girlfriends and Weddings: An Inverse-Ratio
An Applied Approach to Newton’s Third Law

I have surpassed the three month mark of being ‘in-country’ and I have realized that the mind is a very powerful tool. I have spent weeks stretching my mind to its outmost limits: Can I make it to the bathroom without having an accident? (physics); Is it wrong to call someone a bad name in a language that they do not understand? (linguistics); is that girl checking me out? (social studies); what the hell did that person just say? (spanish); how many times can I pronounce the same word incorrectly? (linear algebra).

In my downtime, just as any other neo-philosopher would, I enjoy challenging the status quo and attempt to look at my life from different angles. I present to you: Girlfriends and Weddings: An Inverse-Ratio (An Applied Approach to Newton’s Third Law). The actual essay is a volume of over one-thousand pages, I am still adding footnotes and sending the work to my editor, but I thought it would be good to present a clip note version of my work:


Sitting alone on my porch, strumming my guitar, a distant memory reappeared. It was a comment from a friend years ago in seventh grade – “Jimbo, you haven’t had a lot of girlfriends”. Being that I was 13 years old, was holding a trapper keeper with a picture of a green racecar, and was too nervous to talk to girls – I gave an obvious response, “dude, are you buying lunch today or what?”

- Some ten years later, I now know why I have “not had a lot of girlfriends” –

If there is one thing I am good at, it is weddings. And I am not talking about getting married. How many people go to a wedding to get married?!?!

Only two, trust me… I have done the research, only two people go to a wedding to get married, everyone else goes to eat, drink and dance their asses off – and I am good at doing just that.

My buddy Newton has some laws (kind of a cocky guy)… Every action has an opposite and equal reaction. Newton came up with this law when thinking about the inverse ratio of number of girls one has had, to the amount of weddings one goes to.

The mathematical equation goes as follows:

G, represents the total number of girls you know.
Ex, represents the total number of ex-girlfriends you have had.
D, represents the total number of times one will be able to dance his or her ass off at a wedding.

G – Ex = D

Jimbo Leddy
(G) Girls I know, 153.02034*
(Ex) Ex-girlfriends, 6.5**

NOTES
* Don’t ask
** I ‘kind of dated a girl in 6th grade, but things got weird over a bus ride to school and ended weird… so I only half count it.



153.02034 – 6.5 = 146.52034

Subtracting my ‘limited amount’ of girlfriends, from all the women I know, I can happily say that I will be dancing at at least 146.52034 weddings (147 rounding up).

Newton’s third law applies as follows:

One can only have one wife, (at a time ((in most cases))), which means that of all the girls one dates in their lifetime, they may in fact only have one wedding. This leaves us to deal with the effect of having an ex-girlfriend. Having an Ex, results in having a box of notes that you don’t know if you should keep or throw away, having a ‘pet name’ that you can no longer use, hanging with your buddies a lot more, and loosing the opportunity to attend a wedding in the future – because you know there is no chance that she is going to send you an invite!

Every action has an opposite and equal reaction is very much alive in the world of exgirlfriends and kick ass weddings. Every relationship that one has that doesn’t end right, BAM, you just missed another shot at a night of open bar, a dollar dance, and watching me do my Elvis impression on the dance floor.

That just is not a risk I am willing to take.

“Jimbo, you haven’t had a lot of girlfriends”

“Yeah, but you have been un-invited to a lot of weddings – and you don’t even know it!”

In conclusion, what is worse? Not having a lot of girlfriends, not being invited to a lot of weddings, or spending an hour on the computer writing a comparative essay on girlfriends to weddings and applying laws of physics as proof?

De El Salvador,

Jimbo

Patience as a Virtue

Patience as a Virtue

After three months of living in a third-world country. Three months of literally living the exact opposite way of life that I have accustomed myself to. Three months of bucket baths, tortillas and beans three times a day, thirty minute hikes to go buy a cold coke, and reading by candlelight (and not for the romance of it) – I can officially say that I am redefining by level of patience a million times over.

Today the internet is slow.


In two seconds, I lost everything that I have learned the past three months. One would say, I flipped my lid.

How can I have insane patience for life, yet cry over slow internet?

Because I’m an American Online (AOL)… And I GOT MAIL, that I want to read.

Overly emotional for know purpose,

Jimbo

Bats, Tungas and a Severe Language Slip-Up Reasons I like Animals

My site is starting to feel like home. This is quite an odd feeling, considering no less than a week ago I felt insanely alone and out of place. I have met some amazing new friends, and newly formed relationships are begging to blossom…

It is the rainy season here in El Salvador. When it rains, it rains for three straight days… not cats and dogs, but small oceans. One night, while trying to sleep through the rain, I tossed and turned myself to my flashlight. I have a hard time here separating reality from dreams at night, but at this specific moment I was nearly positive that I heard an odd screech… With my curiosity in full-flex, I flipped on my trusty lampara (thanks Dad) and gave it a quick flash to my right. It was then that I encountered Marcielago*, on the outside of my mosquito net, straight up chillin.

*note. Marcielago is Spanish for bat.

Fast forward a few days

I gracefully woke Marcy from his slumber with the tip of my flashlight… more or less, this pissed him off – a lot. He let out an deafening screech and commenced flying throughout my room, hitting every article of clothing that I had hanging (so much for sonar). It is little moments like these that make me say to myself, “dude… this is so Peace Corps right now”.

At around 6:30pm, I generally get home from the football field (that’s soccer folks) and eat dinner with the family. One particular night, it was straight up guys night. Only me and Don Virgelio… my 70 something father/grandpa here. We normally shoot the shit over the rain, building tables, using machetes, the war and other junk over a cup of coffee during morning. This particular night we added a nighttime convo, in the midst of discussing why we both like Obama (sorry Hill-billy) we seemed to please our audience outside. I went out to the pila to see what all the racket was, and with my flashlight I saw about twenty small frogs… I mean really tiny, tiny guys. They we in perfect harmony singing what I took as Obama’s Opus. It was powerful, poetic and had an amazing crescendo (spelling error?). Later, the old man taught me that these frogs are called Tungas because they make a sound that goes, “tunga… tunga… tunga”.*

*note. These animals at no point make a sound that even comes close to sounding like “tunga”. However, there is no other name that these animals could go by.



Skip ahead a day or two.

I get home from teaching basketball in the neighboring town. My sisters and mom are in the kitchen, which is huge for me because it means I’m eating lunch. While downing some refried beans and tortillas we began talking a little bit animals. This led to me comparing and contrasting dogs here in El Salv to dogs in the United States.

“…todos los perros aqui tienen huevos, pero en las Estados cuando los perros estan muy chiquito nosotros quitamos los huevos de los hombres”.

What I thought I was saying: The dogs here have balls, but in the States when dogs are puppies we nutor them.

What I actually said: “All the dogs here have balls, but in the States when dogs are small we remove the balls of men (humans).”

This comment was followed by awkward stares near my belt and some intense laughing. Shortly after I learned that in El Salvador the people refer to grown male dogs as “perros muchachos”.

Don’t ask me why I was even talking about this, but it was a really funny moment in my life.

Making friends with animals and ruining the image of men stateside,

Jimbo