“I thought about the people who were left there. Who is going to care for them?’’

In the aftermath of Peace Corps pulling out of Honduras I have noticed two things in the media response: increased emphasis and focus on the violence and drug-trafficking going on in Honduras, and that sentiment countered by articles like the one above, lamenting Peace Corps’ decision and talking about all of the other volunteer organizations still working there.

Firstly, I am glad that there are still organizations working in Honduras in an effort to support the people there. Peace Corps is not the end all, be all of foreign aid to the country.

However, I have a big problem with the quote above. This is the number one problem I see in international volunteering and development practices and it all comes down to one itty-bitty word. Who is going to care “for them”?  It was never the job of a Peace Corps Volunteer, nor any development worker for that matter, to be the caregiver of a community. The Hondurans I know are all very capable and resilient people stuck in an extremely difficult situation with a government and justice system that does not work for them and an aid system that is not doing enough to empower them. (The keyword there is empower.)

The international community should care about what is going on in Honduras (or at least any country affected by the Drug Trade, Honduran emigration, and the resulting human rights issues should care). There is a difference, though, in caring about something and caring for something. The Honduran people need help in a lot of things, but that does not mean that all of the bleeding hearts of the developed world should go down there and hand feed all of the poor people and build houses for them (now, if you change that “for” to “with” and have a capacity-building component, that’s a different story). Doing things “for” people, especially people in a place as broken as Honduras, is hurting them much more than it is helping them. I call it the Charity Curse and Honduras has been a victim of it, in a way, for the past 50 years.

I am not happy about Peace Corps pulling out of Honduras, but considering the policy changes that Peace Corps needs to consider in order to improve operations in the country as a whole, it was the best decision. I am happy that there are organizations and groups that are able to continue their operations in the country and I wish them success, but it breaks my heart to think about how many mission trips and volunteer groups are led by that same sentiment: “who will care for these people?”

Please. Don’t care “for these people,” care “about” them. Teach them, empower them stand on their own two feet, help them demand accountability and transparency from their own government and organizations, but don’t go down there with gifts of food and houses thinking these people will be better off. More gringos will just be back in a year to do the same thing for the same people over and over again and nothing will change. That is the curse of charity; the curse of caring “for” something.

The problems and challenges Honduras faces are things that can only be solved by the Honduran people. They will need support, they may seek guidance, but if anyone tries to do it for them, whatever success is achieved will never last.

Amanda Browne is currently a Municipal Development Advisor for the Peace Corps in Honduras. For more on her experiences, check out her blog. This post is a response to Kate Bennett’s post “To Hell with Good Intentions?” in December, and a complement to Amanda’s recent post “Too Much Charity?” To hear more from Peace Corps Volunteers in Central America and the Caribbean, check out “Forever and a Day: 27 Months Abroad” by Joe Sigrin, “To Kiva Fellow or Not to Kiva Fellow,” by Rob Gradoville, or “The Peace Corps Pulls out of Honduras: The Spectrum of Human Emotion,” also by Amanda. Disclaimer: The contents of this article are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.

The international aid community has struggled with this question for years: When a country is in dire straights in almost every aspect, what is the responsibility of the international community? But wait: let’s backtrack for a moment here.

Many a U.S. citizen has heard about the so-called “War on Drugs” (the term first used by President Nixon in 1971). We have seen movies like Trainspotting and Requiem for a Dream that illustrate the dangers of addiction along with films like Traffic and Maria Full of Grace that give a glimpse into the dark side of the drug trade. We know we have an important to role to play in quashing it.

Many United Statesians are familiar with D.A.R.E. programs, Alcoholics Anonymous, Narcotics Anonymous and efforts to legalize Marijuana. “Rehab” has been a pop culture buzzword for at least a decade now. Young, educated Americans are inundated with information about drugs, what they do, why they’re bad, why people do them anyway and (whether they know it or not) have access to a variety of rehabilitation programs should they develop a problem.

As far as the general understanding of the “War on Drugs” goes, I imagine your average American is like I was in their perception of it:

• It’s not a “real” war. Sending a bunch more DEA agents to Colombia and Mexico to root out cartels isn’t really like sending troops to Afghanistan.
• The “war” has put more users and dealers in jail (at least in the US) but it hasn’t necessarily decreased demand or production.
• We all assume that the best cocaine comes from Colombia and that the drug runner’s gateway to the U.S. in Mexico. We know that the United States is the land of consumerism. (Fun fact: The US consumes 90% of the world’s cocaine*)

But how many of us are aware of the effects the drug trade actually has on countries outside of the US. What percentage of us know that the “War on Drugs” is actually a legitimate war for many of those involved? Not very many, I wager.

Let’s take a look at Honduras. Increased efforts to weed out organized crime and corruption in Colombia and Mexico have created a vice that is essentially squeezing the violence from those two countries into the “Northern Triangle” of Central America (El Salvador, Guatemala, and Honduras). Put that in a context where more than 66% of Hondurans live in poverty, of which 45% live in extreme poverty (less than 2 dollars a day). Exploitation and its horrible consequences are bound to take hold.

The correlation between corruption, poverty, violence, and organized crime in Honduras is very much a chicken versus egg scenario. It’s hard to say which came first, but there is no denying that they are all part of a tangled web suffocating this country and that drug cartels play a significant role. When you look at the statistics, it is actually quite unnerving to see just how bad things have become here:

• Honduras jumped up to the #1 spot of highest murder rates in the world in 2011. In Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras, the murder rate is 109 per year. In San Pedro Sula, 125.
• In the United States, the murder rate is about 6.  Yes, that’s a big difference, but let’s get even more specific: Chicago, or the “murder capital where they murder for capital” according to our man Kanye – 15 homicides (per 100,000 people) in the past year. New Orleans is the US city with the highest number on record in one year – 49.

Why, then, is there so much violence in Honduras? A variety of reasons, but mostly gangs and drugs. And why, then, hasn’t anything been done about it? In fact, why does it seem to be getting worse? Corruption and Poverty. Chicken meet Egg, Egg meet Chicken.

A large factor in the recent surge in violence throughout the country was the coup d’état in 2009. After the coup, there was a substantial amount of political instability and uncertainty that opened a window for gangs and cartels to increase their influence and power. Once the country was stabilized, it was too late. Organized crime had already bought its influence and the Lobo administration has been facing those consequences ever since. The most frustrating thing about situations like this is that there is not very much anybody can do about it; at least not from the outside.

What needs to happen is a mix of things that come from within the country. This signifies that the people of Honduras must work together to stand up for themselves and hold people accountable for their actions. That the government needs to weed out corruption and do what they need to do to actually uphold the law to protect its citizens.  This is all much easier said than done provided that corruption is currently rampant throughout the police force as well as among elected officials, and people who stand up to gangs and other abusers of peace are often killed as an example to the rest of the community.

It is a sad and dangerous situation that provides a significant challenge to international volunteers and organizations. There are still a lot of good works to be done to support and empower Hondurans in their efforts to improve their economic situation and standard of living.

However, the question that comes to mind in situations like this is: when is it necessary to step away? Is it “tough love” in the best interest of the country to let them figure things out on their own? Or is it abandoning them in their time of need? So coming back to the beginning: the international aid community has struggled with these questions for years. But what is the role of the international community- nonprofit organizations, states and governments, and the humble volunteer- when a country is struggling from bottom up?

Disclaimer: The contents of this article are mine personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps. Amanda is currently a Municipal Development Advisor for the Peace Corps in Honduras. For more on her experiences, check out her blog.

Ready for the Parade

Last week we found out that Peace Corps is pulling its volunteers out of Honduras due to insecurity. With 8 months left of service with my community and every intention of finishing them, this was not happy news. Most of us Peace Corps volunteers were shocked to hear this decision, not because of why we are being pulled out (we’ve been aware of the situation in this country since we arrived for training), but the fact that this was the decision that was made.

Given all of this, I personally feel as though I have been going through the whole spectrum of human emotions multiple times in a day. Now that the initial shock has worn off, it’s not so extreme, but it is still a roller coaster.

First I’ll forget about what’s happening or be in denial about what lies ahead and feel happy and content to be socializing and joking around with people in my site over the holidays.

Then, that dark cloud of thought comes that these may be my last few weeks with them at all and I get sad and depressed.

I try to cope by searching for the silver lining. I will get to go home and see my family back in the States (definitely a plus) and I cling to the hope that I will be able to come back in a month, though that dark cloud over my head says it’s not likely.

“I will always be able to come back and visit. There’s nothing stopping me from doing that,” I tell myself, even though I know it won’t be the same.

Sometimes I feel disappointed and frustrated that I’m forced to leave before I could accomplish all that I wanted to do here, before I could become the volunteer I could be, as cheesy as that sounds.

Whenever I hear in the news or when people are talking about some violent incident, I get so angry. These reports, while sad to hear, never got to me as much before. Now, all I want to do is scream at all of the delinquents in this country, the narcos and the politicians they’ve bought, and say, “This is all your fault! Look at what you are doing to your country, to your own people! Why don’t you care about them?! All of us expats can leave, but they have no choice but to stay. They have no choice but to put up with your greed and malice. Shame on you!”

Then there’s fear. Let’s get this straight; I have never really been afraid of something happening to me here. Only when I travel long distances do I ever feel insecure. I have always felt safe in my site. Maybe it’s because it is in a safe region of the country. Maybe it’s because I live with a host family. Maybe it’s cause the community looks out for me and I heed their advice and warnings about places to avoid. Maybe it’s cause I can understand a wide variety of things due to my high level of Spanish. Maybe it’s because I rarely go anywhere or do anything alone here. Or maybe it’s because I actually enjoy being in my town and do not feel the need to travel around so much. Sometimes all of these things aren’t enough to prevent something bad from happening, but that’s true of any place in the world.

No. The fear I feel is for my future, fear of the unknown. My plan for the next two years of my life may be shot to hell, so now what do I do? Will I be able to find a job in this economy? Will I be able to come back to Honduras sooner rather than later? Do I really have to say good-bye to this right now? Is this really happening? What am I going to do?

After all of this craziness, I generally feel tired and want to sleep, run, or cry it all away, leading me into a phase of acceptance. The situation is what it is. Perhaps it’s a blessing in disguise or perhaps it is something that will simply blow over like nothing happened. Either way, time only moves forward and I have to make the most of it.

So here’s to an amazing year and a half in Honduras and hoping that the best is yet to come.

Amanda has spent the last year and a half as the Municipal Development Advisor for the Peace Corps in Honduras. For more on her experiences, check out her blog.

Do: A Kiva Fellowship. It'll change your life

Now, we’re no experts in living or working abroad (though we sure do like it), but we have some nuggets of wisdom to offer up for those of you transitioning into a life abroad or beginning your next Kiva Fellowship. Stick by these tips, and you can’t go wrong. (And for more hints and tips, check out the original 33 Tips from Kiva Fellows post from November 2009 or the full 60 tips on the Kiva Fellows Blog!)

Best Way to a Kiva Fellow’s Heart is through…

1. People love to share food in El Salvador. If you’re having lunch with someone or with co-workers, offer up some of what you have for them to try. (Andrea Ramirez, KF16 Costa Rica & El Salvador)

2. Make sure you try the different casados (rice and black beans paired with some sort of salad, and meat). It’s delicious, affordable, and the closest thing to home-made. (Andrea Ramirez, KF16 Costa Rica & El Salvador)

They may not look good. They may not taste that good, either. But do it: eat the fried cow intestines.

3. Try everything. Ok, yes, you could get sick, but worse, you could live the rest of your life without knowing what guinea pig, cow tongue, fermented maize, cow heart, llama, friend random thing with more random things in it, magical juice in a bag, etc., etc., tastes like. If these things don’t seem appealing, remember: even worse, you could miss out on a big chance to share in a local cultural experience that will stay stayed with you forever. (Mariela Cedeno, KF16 Bolivia)

4. Befriending office mates is easy as pie, especially if you bake one. Any baked treat will do the trick: cookies, cupcakes, 7-layer bars – anything tasty and homemade will suffice. Walk around and offer your treats during the afternoon coffee break. (Sandra Pina, KF16, Honduras)

5. Don’t eat cheap food! Factor in the exchange rate when choosing food…in reality food might be $.20 cheaper, but not worth it! (Eric Rindal, KF15 Sierra Leaone, KF16 Bolivia)

Mind your manners:

6. Ladies, doesn’t matter if you’re wearing sweatpants, a miniskirt, or a potato sack. Steel yourself for catcalls- and remember, there’s no sense in lashing out at the singular gentlemen on the street. Number 1, it’s dangerous, and number 2, even the most articulate string of retaliatory words at this one guy from you cannot spark a shift in the consciousness surrounding gender roles. It’s not worth raising your blood pressure. (Kate Bennett, KF15 Ecuador & KF16 Peru)

7. Unless you enjoy highly passionate debates on Christianity during every remaining day of your fellowship, don’t ever – EVER – admit to your Kiva Coordinator to being anything else but an absolutely devout Christian. If you are Jewish, Muslim, Hindu: just forget your God for four months. If you are an atheist: just remember yours! (Emmanuel von Arx, KF16 Ecuador)

8. If the previous recommendation comes too late for you and you have already committed the capital error of confessing any less than full-blown belief in the word of the Bible, you need to consider immediate and urgent conversion to Christianity. This should ideally take place in a public forum, such as during the Monday morning bible session at your MFI, in the presence of all the employees.(Emmanuel von Arx, KF16 Ecuador)

9. Prepare yourself for all kinds of questions: if you went to university, how much your flight cost, if you have a boyfriend (and if you want one), and so on. Ecuadorians are curious and they’re not afraid to show it. (Kate Bennett, KF15 Ecuador & KF16 Peru)

10. Follow through on promises (or obligations)– go to dinner with coworker’s families, take a day trip with coworkers or friends, etc. And participate! Don’t be shy (or obnoxious) and get involved with after work sports or after work drinks. This is your new community. (Eric Rindal, KF15 Sierra Leone, KF16 Bolivia)

How do you say…

11. Make sure to learn the local language- and I mean local. Simpatico and ridiculo might mean nice, and ridiculous, in Ecuador, but in Ica, Perú you just called somebody sexy and asinine. (Kate Bennett, KF15 Ecuador & KF16)

12. No amount of “city” Spanish will prepare you for the linguistic richness and diversity of Spanish spoken in rural Costa Rica. That said, bring a notebook for ALL field visits, and let the loan officers be your best professors and guides. Even Costa Rican urbanites find themselves lost among the colloquialisms of Tico country Spanish. (Julie Kerr, KF16 Costa Rica)

13. Learning common words and phrases in an indigenous language is the quickest way to break the ice. Guaraní is Paraguay’s other official language and is spoken by the majority of the population. Purete means cool, haso means not cool, kaigue is lazy, nde ha’e kuña guapa means “You are a hard working woman!,” chevare’a means “I am hungry,” and amokose means “I want a drink!” (Alba Castillo, KF15 Paraguay)

14. When a farmer says he brings his harvest to market using his “salchichón” (commonly known as “sausage”), blush not my friends, he means “horse”. (Julie Kerr, KF16 Costa Rica)

15. If you lose the thread of a conversation don’t just say ‘sí‘ or intermittently laugh. Get them to repeat things and when that get boring pick out a word or phrase that you Do know and make a comment or nonsequitor. They might be saying “fijate, las olas son bravas en la playa” and your response might be an unrelated, “¿Te gusta la playa?” This gets the conversation back on your own terms. Think about how often you respond like this in English! (Jim Burke, KF16 Nicaragua)

16. Because they will ask: Kiva means “unity” or “agreement” in Swahili. (Kate Bennett, KF15 Ecuador & KF16)

What to Bring

Do: bring a tuperwear container. Sporks can also come in handy, for that mid-morning mountain climb.

17. My three smartest investments for my fellowships? A SteriPen, a tuperwear container, and a pocket knife with a corkscrew. (Also, if you like to bake, bring down baking soda- you can’t get it anywhere in Ecuador or Perú). (Kate Bennett, KF15 Ecuador & KF16 Peru)

18. Always carry a small, sturdy umbrella. It will get you through unexpected showers; as well as hot, sunny days. (Alba Castillo, KF16 Paraguay)

19. Rain is as plentiful is the air we breathe. Bring an umbrella if you prefer to shower before getting dressed. (Julie Kerr, KF16 Costa Rica)

20. Bug spray, bug spray and MORE bug spray!! For those of you who like more natural alternatives, anything with menthol or eucalyptus helps repel the mightiest of mammoth mosquitoes, sand flies, ticks and chiggers. Slather it on THICK! (Julie Kerr, KF16 Costa Rica)

21. Bring clothes or shoes that need to be fixed, mended, or altered. It is cheap and the work is top quality. The sasterías and zapateros are EVERYWHERE. (Jim Burke, KF16 Nicaragua)

There’s no place like home (in a new country!)

22. If you can, try to find accommodation near the central market building: there’s nothing like eating shrimp ceviche with avocado at 7 o’clock in the morning. Besides, this may be your only chance for the entire day to get your hands on food that’s neither triple-fried nor made out of pure pork fat. (Emmanuel von Arx, KF16 Ecuador)

23. If it’s possible, go with a homestay! Local food, local language, and a solid support group in-country are just a few of the obvious perks of living with a family. (Kate Bennett, KF15 Ecuador and KF16 Peru)

Getting from point A to B

If you're feeling the need for speed, do: hop on your loan officer's motorcycle.

24. When moving around by taxi in Cuzco, do everything possible to seem local to get cheaper prices (there are lots of local gringos, so you can pull it off). How to go about it?

• Say hi to your taxista like this “Buenas, maestro.” Saying hola is touristy, saying chofer is touristy, and asking anything about anything is touristy. You don’t care. You are local.
• Tell him where you are going by saying “I will get off at such and such location”. If you are going to a restaurant, know its name, what street it is on, the nearest cross street, and a reference point nearby BEFORE you get in. Otherwise you won’t be able to pull off the “trabajo aquí.”(Miss any of those four, you are officially a tourist.) (Rob Gradoville, KF16 Peru)

25. If you’re taking the bus and you don’t know where you need to get off, just ask the bus diver. Costa Rica has the nicest bus drivers around! (Andrea Ramirez, KF16 Costa Rica & El Salvador)

26. For safety’s sake, always make a show of noting your taxi’s license plate number in Quito, Ecuador or Ica, Peru- I’ve actually started pantomiming phone calls in Spanish to friends, relaying the plate number and how soon I’ll be arriving to meet them. (Kate Bennett, KF15 Ecuador and KF16 Peru)

Get to work!

27. If you have any freedom to do borrower visits, have no shame in visiting anyone who owns a panatería, heladería, or pisco vineyard. Peruvian hospitality and pride in their business translate to homemade treats for you. Microtenterprise never tasted so good. (Kate Bennett, KF15 Ecuador & KF16)

28. Email coworkers when you leave! – Even if they weren’t helpful with that one thing you were working on…they still care and want to hear from you when you’re gone. (Eric Rindal, KF15 Sierra Leone, KF16 Bolivia)

29. Make people laugh, even when it’s awkward. Visiting clients who are on a spectrum from extreme introvert, to slightly less extreme introvert, can be daunting, but like everything else in life, there is nothing better than a laugh. You’d be amazed how many times my laughing at people and saying “por favor, sonria porque se me va a romper la camera si sigue asi,” actually made them smile. Don’t rush, don’t pull out your pen and BV template, and don’t start dangerously pointing your camera right way. Chill out, smile, shake hands, take in the scenery, interact! (Mariela Cedeno, KF16 Bolivia)

30. Make sure to hang out with MFI staff outside of work. Don’t worry so much about about keeping it strictly ‘professional.’ I built trust, learned office hierarchy, gossip, and got a lot of technical questions answered after a few beers with loan officers. (Jim Burke, KF16 Nicaragua)

31. Fake it ’til you make it. You will be considered an expert in all things Kiva, even if you’re not. Embrace the challenge. You will have multiple resources at your disposal: use them. Learn along the way and don’t be afraid to tell your field partner, “Can I get back to you on that? I want to confirm with Kiva.” (Sandra Pina, KF16, Honduras)

32. If it should take a day or two, it’ll take three or four. If it’s your Borrower Verification, it’ll take a month. (Kate Bennett, KF15 Ecuador & KF16)

33. Figure out how your MFI communicates. They are probably using chat or skype. Get your coworkers chat/skype info early on. sometimes you can formulate better questions, get better responses and be less annoying chatting rather than visiting their office for every little thing. (Jim Burke, KF16 Nicaragua)

Safety

34. Always ask before you snap a photo of someone (especially if they’re not a borrower, especially if you’re in Guatemala). Not only can it be extremely rude, but tourists’ cameras, and persons, have been roughed up for this transgression in the past. (Kate Bennett, KF15 Ecuador & KF16)

35. Never carry your credit card unless you are making a withdrawal. I prefer to carry large sums of money in my shoe rather than bringing my card out of hiding. (Jim Burke, KF16 Nicaragua)

36. Make and carry a photocopy of your passport. Carrying it around for real is a real bad idea, and having no record makes it hard to check into hostels/hotels. (Jim Burke, KF16 Nicaragua)

37. I’ve also got a list of my credit card numbers (scrambled) and call-in information should my wallet get stolen. I also keep an emergency cash supply. Call me paranoid, call me what you will, but this list and back-up cash have come in handy three times in the past year. (Kate Bennett, KF15 Ecuador & KF16)

Do: try to dance like the locals. Don't: fool yourself into thinking you're really, really good at it.

Living and Looking Local:

37. Never take the first price- haggling is expected. On the other side of the coin, though, don’t haggle some old woman trying to sell you a scarf in the Sunday market into oblivion- that extra dollar probably means an awful lot more than her than it does to you. Lay aside your hubris and indignation from time to time and accept the gringo tax. (Kate Bennett, KF15 Ecuador & KF16)

38. Be a guest (and a friend) – allow people in your host country to take you around…you don’t always have to pretend like you’re not a tourist…let’s be real, this is not your native country (if it is, still go on some trips!). (Eric Rindal, KF15 Sierra Leone, KF16 Bolivia)

39. Get off the internet! Your friends at home really don’t need to hear from you every day (although your mother/father probably does). It’s way cooler to say, “I was out of internet range…” (Eric Rindal, KF15 Sierra Leone, KF16 Bolivia)

40. Outside of San Salvador the people are pretty conservative. Men won’t shake a woman’s hand unless she extends her hand first. (Andrea Ramirez, KF16 Costa Rica & El Salvador)

41. In Paraguay, you greet and say goodbye to friends with not one, but two kisses – one on each cheek. (Alba Castillo, KF16 Paraguay)

42. If you want to look like a local, wear jeans. Even if it’s 100 degrees outside. Tourists are associated with shorts. (Andrea Ramirez, KF16 Costa Rica & El Salvador)

43. When in Rome…always pour some out for Pachamama. If you find yourself sitting around a big bucket of Chicha with nothing but a full gourd in hand, don’t be stingy, pour some out for Mother Earth, she’s thirsty too. (Mariela Cedeno, KF16 Bolivia)

44. Walk, walk everywhere, all the time. Yes you need to be at the office at 8 a.m. and you get up at 7:40, but maybe during your two hour lunch break and on weekends you can make sure to take the time to pace yourself. Remember to absorb everything around you: the sounds, the streets, the people, the street vendors, the conversations, the protests, the smells. For some reason, those were also my most peaceful times. (Mariela Cedeno, KF16 Bolivia)

45. Getting haircuts is cheap and always a great experience. Getting a straight razor shave sounds bad ass but is just bad and hurts a lot. (Jim Burke, KF16 Nicaragua)

For more hints and tips, check out the original 33 Tips from Kiva Fellows post from November 2009! To learn more about the Kiva Fellowship experience, check out “Why I Volunteer Abroad” by Eric Rindal, “Migration, Microloans, and the Journey of a Kiva Fellow” by Kate Bennett, or the official Kiva Fellows Blog.

Overlooking San Antonio de Flores

My journey into the field of international development was bred from a mix of wanting to be like Indiana Jones and a champion for world peace. I also really liked the idea of getting paid to travel around the world and interact with local people. That being said, I didn’t always want to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. It was always an option, but it wasn’t the option for a while.

I got into the Elliott School for International Affairs at George Washington University and was dead set on becoming a global somebody. Then I took a class my sophomore year on the Anthropology of Development and my world got shaken up a bit.

Before that class, I had a very naïve view of international development and foreign aid. Professor Shepherd quickly broke all of that down. As students we were presented with harsh realities and taught to look deeper and question the effectiveness and purpose of development work. The role of aid institutions in the Rwandan Genocide, what? You mean a dam the World Bank built actually damaged the local environment and its inhabitants? Peace Corps Volunteers aren’t the change-makers of the world? So you’re saying that international aid organizations can do more harm than good? Now, it’s not as though Professor Shepard crushed all of my hopes and dreams, but he definitely broke my rose-tinted glasses when it came to development work.

After learning that development work is much more complicated and messier than it seemed, I told myself I did not want to be a PCV. I wanted to create effective change. I wanted to make a real impact. I didn’t want to go to some far off place for 2 years of my life and have the local people resent me for my arrogance and assuming they don’t know better. I didn’t want to be a part of any organization that patronized the people it was claiming to help and empower. Furthermore, two years felt like a long time, a serious commitment. I didn’t want to commit to something that I wasn’t completely confident in. Things that had once been black and white were quickly turning gray.

So what made me change my mind about the Peace Corps?

A couple of things. First, after filling my head with more and more questions and not a whole lot of answers about international development and what working in such a field meant, I decided to do my research and see what this business was all about. Secondly, I realized that many programs like Peace Corps are about experience and perspective, not necessarily saving the world. By sharing experiences, both professional and personal, volunteers can help empower others in their community. It may not be the big impact that many an aspirante expects or hopes for when entering service, but they provide the building blocks for bigger changes that take time to develop. Much more time than two years.

Before deciding to apply to Peace Corps, I went to a number of information sessions. I hounded my local recruiter with questions about his experiences, how volunteers are supported, what the expectations are, etc. I was still hung up on the idea of committing two years of my life to this. My inner thought process was: when I finish I could be 26 and then I need two more years to get my Master’s degree so I’ll be like, 28. And then what if I want to start a family, and I’ll be so old…and down the slippery slope I went. An older, wiser friend knocked some sense into me and I concluded that two years really is not as much time as it seems.

I also went back to talk to Professor Shepherd, also an RPCV (returned Peace Corps volunteer), to get some direct, no-holds-barred advice as well. He told me (to paraphrase), “Look: the Peace Corps is a great experience and you will never have another job like it. But you can’t go into it thinking you are going to save the world and do big, amazing things for your community. If you go into it with such high expectations you are going to be disappointed and it will be much more difficult for you to be an effective volunteer. You need to focus on the little things. If Peace Corps is what you want to do, you will get the most out of it if you don’t expect too much of yourself and keep your mind open to learning everything you can from the experience.”

Armed with plenty of advice and information, I decided that I’d give Peace Corps a shot and now here I am in Honduras. The application process took a little over a year. I started writing my application in February, submitted it in April, was nominated in May (on my birthday as fate would have it), but I didn’t receive an invitation to serve until the following March with my departure date set for mid-June. It is a process that requires some patience.

The author at an HIV/AIDS charla

Now that I am past the halfway mark of my service, the advice I received is all the more relevant. Peace Corps is a great experience. I have never before felt so sure about a decision and what I am doing. However it is not without its challenges. You definitely have to be proactive, you need to maintain confidence, and “flexibility” takes on a whole new meaning. I am also incredibly grateful that Prof. Shepherd always kept it straight and taught his students how to think and question projects, programs, and expectations. Many PCV’s struggle with the harsh reality of their communities and the limits of being one volunteer in a sea of complex issues and systems. It is challenging, invigorating, and no one volunteer’s experience is identical. It is definitely not for everyone, but it is a worthy challenge for those who choose accept it.

Check out two more interesting takes on the life of a PCV: the Official PSA, and So you want to join the Peace Corps? Amanda is currently a Municipal Development Advisor for the Peace Corps in Honduras. For more on her experiences, check out her blog.

Arriving to one’s town of service, one of the volunteer’s principal concerns is the host family. Will they like me? Is their house clean? Will I have some semblance of privacy and personal space? Will we be able to communicate and co-exist during my stay here? The build-up to that first meeting is a time of anxiousness and excitement.

My baby "cousin" Jeltin with his big brother Malcon

Before arriving to my town as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I had lived with four host-families in various travels and experiences. I always got along very well with them, never any serious mis-communications. (Just the occasional mishap like confusing cucumbers for horseradish. They definitely do not taste as similar as they can look.) Despite my experiences, I was just as nervous and anxious to meet this family that would introduce me to my new home for the next two years. Not to mention, I have always been accustomed to living independently with plenty of personal space. I thought for sure I was going to move into my own place after the obligatory 2-month stay with the host family.

To my surprise, I have yet to move out of my host family’s house and I having been living here for 14 months. Apart from the fact that the house is spacious, very clean, and my host mom is an excellent cook, it turns out that we really did adopt each other as family. My fellow volunteers find it hard to believe how natural and comfortable my living situation is until they come and see it for themselves.

A little bit about my living situation: the house is a quarter-block, traditional style house (patio in the center) in the middle of town. My room is one of three set apart from the main house where the kitchen, living room and two other bedrooms are. The family that lives in the house consists of my host mom, two host sisters (27 and 30 years old respectively), the husband and three-year-old son of the 27 year old, and a 16 year-old housekeeper to help my host mom. I have a 25-year-old sister who lives next door with her new husband and a 31-year-old brother who lives down the road with his wife and her family. My host mom’s husband passed away a year before I arrived, so it’s just us lovely ladies in the house. Plus Juben (my brother-in-law). All of the children are educated, finishing up their first or second university degrees and all three of the sisters are teachers, so they are very open-minded and easy to communicate with. It is an ideal set-up.

Now, let’s be honest, matching volunteers with a good host-family can be a crapshoot. Sometimes you land in situations that are not conducive to your personal and emotional health. I do think that I got lucky, but I also think that one’s attitude towards a host-family situation is crucial.  If you go into such an arrangement with the mind-set that it’s going to be horrible, or that you’re just going to get by until you can move out, you may miss out on some of the benefits and opportunities, such as:

1. Integration

Community integration is key for a volunteer, especially when operating solo as many Peace Corps volunteers do. The better you get to know the people in your community, their customs and expectations, the easier it will be for you to identify community leaders and initiatives that you can pursue. My mayor is good friends with my host family and would often stop by for coffee on Sundays. This was a great opportunity for me to get to know him and also talk to him about the community, what he was doing, and what he thought needed to get done. I also got to know people in the community by going on visits with my host mom or sisters. This was also helpful for learning the proper protocol for visits: what to say, how to behave, what to bring (if necessary), and how long was appropriate to stay. My host family was huge part of my cultural education.

2. Community news/happenings

There is no shortage of chisme (gossip) living with a host family in a small town. Between my family members and the people passing through to pay a visit, I have 24/7 access to my town’s local news network. As with most gossip, it varies from person to person, but I am generally clued into most things from the latest relationship scandals to local crime incidents.

3. Security

On that note, it is important to mention the value of a host family as local protection. Volunteers do not always live in the safest corners of the world and the added fact that they come from developed countries gives the impression that they are carrying around a lot of money. This makes volunteers bigger targets for assaults, robberies, and break-ins. Now, I’m not saying your family acts as a bodyguard in the literal sense, but they do form a shield of “belonging” over you.

Anytime the topic of break-ins comes up, my host mom always tells me, “Oh, Amandita, if you were living by yourself, for certain they already would have tried to break in to your house.” Though that would not have stopped me from moving out if I really wanted to, it is absolutely true. A single, American female living by herself? Not only would I be seen as an easy target, they’d think I was loaded as well (aka: jackpot). So far I have not had any troubles during my service, partly due to my own vigilance but also in part because my family keeps me informed about dangerous times and places.

4. Language skills

Many volunteers who live by themselves plateau in their language skills after they move out. Volunteers and staff who don’t get to see me often always comment on my high level of Spanish and conversational ability compared to when I first got here. Some friends in my community have also told me that they could barely understand what I was saying when they first met me, but now they have no problem. Chock another one up to the host fam. Living with a host family forces me to communicate in Spanish 24/7. Living by myself, I would not have to think or speak in Spanish while at home. With my host family, from the moment I wake up until I go to my room to decompress and go to sleep, I am thinking in Spanish. At first it was exhausting and took some effort, but it got easier after a couple months. It is assuredly the number one thing that has improved my fluency.

5. Other (perhaps better) family and living situations

Like I said, host families can be a crapshoot. If you don’t end up in an ideal situation, and you do not have the option to live by yourself, take advantage of the connections you make with other people and their families. Through my host family, I got to know some of the cousins that would come and visit. Turns out that we got along really well so I started hanging out at their house frequently.  As it turns out, they were one of the families originally considered to be my host family. I visit them almost everyday now. I share my computer and my iPod with them. They fix my cell phone when it gets busted, introduce me to Spanish rock music, and feed me mangos. It’s a pretty sweet relationship. If, for whatever reason, I was no longer able or willing to stay with my current host family or by myself, they would be the first people I would turn to.

6. Cost

It is a lot cheaper living with a host family than by yourself. I pay one lump sum to my host family each month and it covers food, lodging, cleaning, laundry, and utilities. Those would all be separate costs if I lived by myself, plus the initial cost of purchasing furniture. I’d say I save at least $50 a month, which is about a fifth of my monthly stipend.

Sometimes, when living abroad, it is necessary to have your own place to manage your personal space and your mental health. However, it’s not always an option and many volunteers I have interacted with dread the thought of having to stay with a host family for more than a few months. I was one of them, actually. What I have found, though, is that building a strong relationship with your host family not only provides the benefits listed above, but also a strong personal support network. Being away from one’s friends and family for an extended period of time can be incredibly difficult. Finding a family away from home makes the distance easier to deal with.

For more posts from La Vida Idealist on the eternal question of host families and homestays, check out check out “Living with Locals, for Better or Worse?” by Becca Mondshein, “Department of Homestay Security” by Kent Green, “Homestay in Rio: an Ode to Ica,” by Mehr Amin,  or “Adopting a Tico Family,” by Jen Johnson. This is Amanda’s first post with La Vida Idealist. Amanda is currently a Municipal Development Advisor for the Peace Corps in Honduras. For more on her experiences, check out her blog.

For two years, La Vida Idealist.org has reached audiences in over one hundred and fifty countries and discussed the highs-and-lows and ins-and-outs of nonprofit work in Latin America. We’ve discussed the g-word (gringo!) and the ethics of “poverty tourism,” wondered how much impact teaching English really has in the long run, and dispensed dozens and dozens of tips on working and living abroad. We’ve fostered connections and collaborations between volunteers and social change organizations all over Latin America. And speaking for myself, we’ve had a blast while doing it!

Now we’re looking for new writers to share their stories, experiences and insights with us and our readers. Whether you’re a temporary volunteer or running your own organization, a photographer or photojournalist, or someone traveling abroad and making volunteer stops along the way, your anecdotes and acquired wisdom can continue to facilitate connections and enrich the ongoing dialogue of “just what does nonprofit work in Latin American mean?” If you’re interested in contributing to this conversation and joining our team, check out our Opportunities page! We look forward to hearing from you soon!

Farmer explains a bad crop of maiz.

When in Central America, do as the Central Americans do: slow down, make it count, and when in doubt, wing it.

Things such as internet connections, water pressure, food service, bus travel, etc. run much more slowly here than in the U.S. In the communities I’ve visited, I’ve witnessed hard-working people — farmers and bus drivers, for example — who understand the importance of making their time count because their livelihood depends on it. I have also noticed that when you ask someone a question they will ponder for a moment, and then give you an answer. It may not be accurate but they will wing it – especially when giving directions.

After about a month in Nicaragua, I passed through Honduras and arrived in Guatemala. Since my original departure I have had two interviews for unpaid long-term positions with two organizations. They both asked for my assistance with their projects but when the time came to fully commit… I froze. Am I really ready to stop traveling and dedicate all of my time, energy, and remaining funds to this one cause? How can I balance doing good for others while getting the most value out of my trip?

Things were moving too quickly and I clearly wasn’t ready to settle down. I chose instead to make the most of my journey, to slow down, see as much as possible and to make it count. When I find myself doubting or wanting to do more for the people I encounter, I will wing it and use my experience to make a meaningful impact as an individual.

Cooking tortillas in the morning

For example, while staying on a finca in Northern Nicaragua, the woman of the house expressed to me that she was unhappy with the relationship her community had with its current tourism co-op. I offered her some advice on how to begin her own co-op or organization that would better serve her community and will maintain contact with her to help in any way I can, perhaps with the option of returning. She greatly appreciated the advice and I had an amazing experience learning about her life.

Also, while eating in a market in a small highlands city in Western Honduras I ended up giving two young men a three-hour impromptu English lesson with the printout worksheet they found online. They were desperate to learn the language but could not afford to take classes.

These simple examples of community interaction have the potential to make an impact. In addition, I am noting the level of need in the areas I visit. What resources are available, and how well are they functioning? Where are the gaps?

The door is always open for me to return. For now, I will seek out such opportunities before I settle in one spot: taking my time, making it count, and just simply winging it.

Whitney Devin is currently traveling around Central America, seeking volunteer opportunities.

Three days of workshops and speeches bookended by a march and rally on a sprawling sports and education complex east of the city center. There were lots of anti’s on display: anti-capitalism, anti-militarization, anti-soy, anti-Plan Colombia. There were lots of pro’s as well: gender rights, food sovereignty, free software, free education, la lucha.

At a workshop on regional integration

The Bolivian cultural delegation patiently posed for photos with their polleras and ponchos. Argentine hippies sold jewelry next to Paraguayan Maká weaving rainbow bright bags. The Canadians presented in Spanish with French-inflected r’s and the Brazilians tried their hand at Portuñol. Rigoberta Menchu spoke on women in leadership. Paraguayan president Lugo spoke despite undergoing his first dose of chemo this week, condemning the 2009 coup in Honduras and praising reconciliation between Colombia and Venezuela. “War and destabilization don’t form part of our Latin America agenda,” he said.

Uruguayan president Mujica gave a few words on the need for multiple democracies for multiple pueblos. Evo Morales even spoke on everything from the protection of Mother Nature to a fair number of jabs against the United States. Overall, few seemed to get the memo that the Foro poster included an image of North as well as South America, but perhaps that was to be expected.

There was lots of community and lots of chanting. A group of women wearing cavernous animal print jumpsuits and face paint floated through the proceedings like some form of elemental shared unconscious: No hay justicia ambiental sin justicia social. Reparacão y distribuicão. Salvar la tierra es ahora o ahora. El problema no es pobreza; es la mala distribución de la llamada riqueza. Alerta! Alerta! Alerta que camina la lucha feminista por America Latina.

One day at lunch everyone danced together under an electric blue Asunción sky and it was easy to believe, at least for a second, that if all this buena onda and energy could translate to action, the world would be all right (in a left sort of way).

Flora Lindsay-Herrera is currently a Fulbright Fellow in Montevideo, Uruguay. For more about her experiences, check out her blog.

In the midst of Copa Mundial fervor here in Chile, every home appliance and electronics store is offering “baratísima” deals on TVs of every size and shape, but particularly on Plasmas. I assumed that the frenzy of these “buy your new high-definition, 50-inch, Plasma [which refers to either a plasma or an LCD TV, as it turns out]” advertisements was only reaching well-to-do Santiaguinos. But a visit to a client’s home yesterday proved me wrong.

This home was missing a window – unrepaired damage from the February earthquake – and did not have a refrigerator. (Although now, in winter, with no heat and an open window, room temperature is about 45 degrees which means that perishable goods store just fine.) Yet, in the center of the living room, there it stood – the new Plasma.

There is something about the big black (or white, in the case of the one you see here ) screen turning on for the first time to make its high-def debut that never fails to startle me. I had the same surprise when I arrived to my last apartment in Honduras, which was furnished with a flatscreen TV, yet tried to pass off a mini fridge and a hotplate as a “kitchen.”

For some people, a television is more logical than a refrigerator. A group of clients I once visited in rural Honduras had recently celebrated the arrival of electricity to their village by purchasing televisions. Their new power grid was run by solar energy, and worked very effectively to power lights and small appliances, but was not designed to power large appliances – like televisions and refrigerators – for any amount of time. But unlike fridges, you can run a TV for only a few hours per day; and for this community, the televisions were an important symbol of a new era of better living standards.

Though the same economic logic cannot necessarily be applied here in Santiago, Chile (a new refrigerator costs around $350, and even “en oferta” the cheapest Plasma is going for about $700), TVs definitely serve as status symbols.  And there’s no doubting the social obligation to be plugged-in in high-def to watch the Orgullo Rojo win their World Cup matches.

To read more about the overwhelming pride Chileans feel for their team, read Lindsey Chapman’s post,  “A Week of Three Firsts.”