Rock Star

There I was sitting on the bus back to my site in normal fashion- I was taking up two seats with three boxes (laptops for the health clinic and packages from the States), my backpack of overnight stuff, and groceries. I always see someone I know on the bus. In fact, a couple of bus rides back I joked to at least 3 people that my whole town was on the bus. Even when I don’t know someone on the bus you can’t bet someone knows me. Peace Corps talks in training and apparently when you leave about the “rock star” status volunteers have in their own community. Some communities have never seen or met an actual white person when their volunteer arrives, and some just love to stare at the 6 foot tall men with blond hair as they walk by. PC reminds us it’s a status to be preserved and cuidar’d. They also remind you that some people have a hard time adjusting to the non-rock star status they have when they return home. I don’t feel like a rock star but maybe that’s because people don’t stare at me like they do my white-er friends. I, not surprisingly, blend in fairly well. That is, until I open my mouth.

Today, I found myself on the bus waiting for it to finally take off. And, low and behold, the lady next to me smiles at me like she knows me and makes a comment about my packages. Then, she makes a comment to her daughter about her papers being in English. I, of course, knew what was coming next- visa application. It is probably the fifth time or so that I have read those documents for someone. They are all exactly the same. This woman turned out to be the mother of a seventh grader at school thus one of my students and was hoping I could read English and help her with the papers. I reminded her to make sure she sends a copy of all the documents listed and include the paper with the bar code. She was very happy for the help and I was happy to help her. I assured her if she needed more help she knew where to find me.

Whenever someone finds out you are from the US, they questions are always the same. They are aching for comparisons, confirmation, or denial of life in the States. This also happened today. In the beginning of my service, I felt like I was lying a lot. But now I know what I say is true. They are totally different and one is not better than the other. El Salvador has its problems but so does the US. Here, life is so tranquilo and simple. Most people in the campo aren’t rich and probably could use more money but they can also live off the land and many own their own houses, albeit very basic. Life in the States can be onerous-debt, fads, debt. We don’t live off the land, we get bogged down in mortgages, and we want the next iPhone. In El Salvador, it is unthinkable for someone to lose their home and most families all live on the same property. I love the US and want to be there more than ever some days but I wish Salvadorans would appreciate the simplicity of life here sometimes. I don’t encourage them to immigrate north but some do it out of necessity. I may not like their decision to go north, but in the end I am a fiery defender of their right to work and be treated with respect.