June

Sleeping in a hammock is awkward at first. I toss and turn most nights, and that doesn’t work the same in a hammock. After figuring out how to wedge a pillow around my head, holding my neck in place while blocking out pig squeals and bovine parades. After a few weeks, I prefer it over my bed. That’s not saying much, since my bed is about 6 inches too short and constantly wet due to leaks in the roof, but the hammock feels good now. What’s your sleep number?

I’m lucky to have made such good friends with a few people in my site. I know a lot of other volunteers who spend all two years without ever making any true friends. I’m indebted to the volunteer before me, Richard, for gaining their trust during his time here and introducing me before he left.

In terms of work, now that training is done I can get started for real. I’m the new computer-technology teacher at the school starting next week. I’m also going to be working with kids in 6th through 9th grade who have trouble reading. Some other plans for the new future are starting a compost pile and garden, raising rabbits, and forming a youth group.

During training I was chosen as one of the new members of the WYD committee that helps provide scholarships for Salvadoran youth who wouldn’t be able to continue their schooling otherwise. Two girls in neighboring villages won scholarships this year and I have already been doing some tutoring with them individually in English and some other homework here and there.

The World Cup is a big deal here, but not as much as I anticipated. Most people are aware of it but few follow it closely. Luis and I watch as many games as we can, but his cousin Alex (who lives in the same house as us) gets bored with the games and lobbies to change the channel to watch movies instead.

The poverty many people here struggle with still startles me at times. Some parts of the village are sombering, and despite promises from NGOs and the mayor, the water project is at a halt and doesn’t look to be going anywhere soon. The scheduled completion date was May 14. It is close to done, but no one has been working for weeks. It’s hard to pinpoint what exactly the problem is, but I’m sure it has something to do with funding. Some of the large plastic pipes designed to carry the water that isn’t yet running are already exposed and I wouldn’t be surprised if they are broken before the project is even completed. They were underground, but fierce tropical rains formed temporary rivers that washed away the soil and tossed rocks down from the volcano. Sooner or later, one of those rocks is probably going to hit a pipe and it’s going to break. Why the pipes were built where the ground washes away every rainy season I’ll never understand. The engineer probably never bothered to ask anyone who knows the land before he drew up the plans. Who knows if there will ever be running water here, and if there is, how long will it last?

Some of the people are distraught by the slow progress and broken promises. Others aren’t phased.

"During 12 years of war, the only water I drank was what fell from the clouds," one man told me, and then shrugged his shoulders.

Well, there aren’t any parasites in rainwater. Or at least not any I know of.