There are many things I love about Moldovan culture. One of my favorites is their propensity to share food. When Moldovans have anything edible or drinkable, even gum, they will never fail to offer a portion to those around them--no matter how much (or little) they have. It would be unthinkable for them to do otherwise.
The other day I had a free period, so I was chatting with Ana, one of my 11th grade students who was on bell duty (in my school there is no automatic bell system--students take turns camping out by the bell for a day with their cell phone and ringing the bell at the appropriate times, or not so appropriate, depending on the accuracy of their cell phone clocks). I then decided that I was hungry and wanted to walk to a nearby store to buy myself a snack. When I got to the store, instead of buying a Twix, which was my original choice, I opted instead for Peanut M&Ms. It occurred to me that Ana would probably like a snack too, and it would be easier to share M&Ms then a Twix. So I went back, and we resumed our conversation over a bag of M&Ms.
The purpose of this anecdote is not to paint myself as this perfect example of selflessness. The reason I'm writing about it is because, after that experience, I had a realization about myself. The pre-Moldova Katie would have bought the Twix without a second thought, and when walking past Ana, kept it hidden safely in my pocket until I had reached the teacher's room, where I could eat it in privacy. It wouldn't even have occurred to me to feel guilty about this small act of selfishness because, according to my American mentality, what's mine is mine. I earned it, and it's my right to use it (or eat it) as I see fit. Now, after living in Moldova for over a year-and-a-half, I'm embarrassed by such a mindset. I'm grateful to the countless Moldovans who have helped me see that generosity isn't any less meaningful, just because it's done on a smaller scale. Current Katie has no desire to return to Pre-Moldova Katie. I don't want to be the person who looks for excuses not to share. I want to be the person who always chooses M&Ms over Twix.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Ups and Downs
It's been almost 2 months since I last wrote in my blog. I usually manage to write an entry every 2-3 weeks, so I apologize for getting so far behind. I've had good reasons for not writing, though, so I'll share them...and try to tell (as succinctly as possible) what's been going on the past couple of months.
No Place Like Home
At the end of December/beginning of January I surprised my family by coming home for a visit. Other than my parents, no one knew I was coming. I was able to surprise all of my siblings, several friends in New York, and my extended family members in Michigan. In order to get home by Christmas, I had to survive a 10-hour bus ride to Bucharest, an overnight stay in the Bucharest airport, a somewhat panicky layover in Rome after I was informed that due to an overbooked flight I was on standby, a 9-hour flight to New York City, and another stressful layover in JFK while I waited in vain for my baggage to arrive, almost missing my final flight to Rochester (I seriously felt like I was trapped in a bad Christmas movie). But I arrived at my house at 11pm Christmas Eve, and the look of utter amazement on my siblings' faces as I walked through the door was worth all of the stress and frustration of getting there.
I had wondered beforehand what it would be like to be back in the US after a year-and-a-half away. I had become so accustomed to my new life in Moldova that I had a hard time imagining what it would be like to re-encounter my "old" life. It ended up being a lot less stranger than I anticipated. With the exception of jet lag, it only took me a couple days to feel at home again. I was able to see most of the friends and family that I wanted to, and even saying goodbye to them was relatively easy because I knew that I'd be coming back in the summer. When I returned to the Rochester airport 2 weeks later, I was ready to head into my home stretch of Peace Corps service and meet my final semester of teaching head-on.
Loss
In some ways, I hesitate to write the second part of this entry. Due to the public nature of my blog, I usually shy away from getting too personal with my writing. But I also want to be honest about my time here, and everything that happens to me (or to those around me in my community) is a valid part of my experience in Moldova.
A couple weeks ago, something profoundly tragic occurred in my school: a student killed herself. Although she wasn't in my section of English, she used to come to my afterschool English club. I also taught several of her classmates. When I heard the news, I was in complete shock. She was the last person anyone would have suspected of suicide. In fact, I would have described her as a girl who loved life. She was vibrant, outgoing, excelled in all her classes, and had an amazing sense of humor. I took it for granted that she was as happy as she seemed to be.
The week that followed her death was a trying one for our entire school. Teachers and students alike struggled to come to terms with what had happened. I was often at a loss for what to say and how to act. Trying to give comfort to grieving people is a daunting task in and of itself, and it's made even harder by having to do it within the context of a foreign language and culture. I felt especially burdened for my 11th form students that had been her classmates. Perhaps more than anyone else, they were the ones who had experienced the deepest loss. And all I could offer them was my willingness to sit with them and listen (but, as people wiser than me have pointed out, sometimes that's the best thing you can do).
Throughout the past week, I learned a lot about how Moldovans react to death. Not only did I learn about their customs and perceptions, but I also witnessed how those at my school coped with such a tragedy. This was never a cultural learning experience I wanted to have firsthand, but I did. And I can say without a doubt that this has been one of the most profound moments that I've had in Moldova. I have been so grateful to be a part of a school community that has grieved so openly and honestly, all the while supporting its members who were hurting the most.
I never could have anticipated what forms they would take, but I knew that my two years here would have their share of dark moments. Now that they've come, my prayer is that I will be able to share the peace and hope that I've been given with those around me. It doesn't seem like much, but it's all that I can do.
No Place Like Home
At the end of December/beginning of January I surprised my family by coming home for a visit. Other than my parents, no one knew I was coming. I was able to surprise all of my siblings, several friends in New York, and my extended family members in Michigan. In order to get home by Christmas, I had to survive a 10-hour bus ride to Bucharest, an overnight stay in the Bucharest airport, a somewhat panicky layover in Rome after I was informed that due to an overbooked flight I was on standby, a 9-hour flight to New York City, and another stressful layover in JFK while I waited in vain for my baggage to arrive, almost missing my final flight to Rochester (I seriously felt like I was trapped in a bad Christmas movie). But I arrived at my house at 11pm Christmas Eve, and the look of utter amazement on my siblings' faces as I walked through the door was worth all of the stress and frustration of getting there.
I had wondered beforehand what it would be like to be back in the US after a year-and-a-half away. I had become so accustomed to my new life in Moldova that I had a hard time imagining what it would be like to re-encounter my "old" life. It ended up being a lot less stranger than I anticipated. With the exception of jet lag, it only took me a couple days to feel at home again. I was able to see most of the friends and family that I wanted to, and even saying goodbye to them was relatively easy because I knew that I'd be coming back in the summer. When I returned to the Rochester airport 2 weeks later, I was ready to head into my home stretch of Peace Corps service and meet my final semester of teaching head-on.
Loss
In some ways, I hesitate to write the second part of this entry. Due to the public nature of my blog, I usually shy away from getting too personal with my writing. But I also want to be honest about my time here, and everything that happens to me (or to those around me in my community) is a valid part of my experience in Moldova.
A couple weeks ago, something profoundly tragic occurred in my school: a student killed herself. Although she wasn't in my section of English, she used to come to my afterschool English club. I also taught several of her classmates. When I heard the news, I was in complete shock. She was the last person anyone would have suspected of suicide. In fact, I would have described her as a girl who loved life. She was vibrant, outgoing, excelled in all her classes, and had an amazing sense of humor. I took it for granted that she was as happy as she seemed to be.
The week that followed her death was a trying one for our entire school. Teachers and students alike struggled to come to terms with what had happened. I was often at a loss for what to say and how to act. Trying to give comfort to grieving people is a daunting task in and of itself, and it's made even harder by having to do it within the context of a foreign language and culture. I felt especially burdened for my 11th form students that had been her classmates. Perhaps more than anyone else, they were the ones who had experienced the deepest loss. And all I could offer them was my willingness to sit with them and listen (but, as people wiser than me have pointed out, sometimes that's the best thing you can do).
Throughout the past week, I learned a lot about how Moldovans react to death. Not only did I learn about their customs and perceptions, but I also witnessed how those at my school coped with such a tragedy. This was never a cultural learning experience I wanted to have firsthand, but I did. And I can say without a doubt that this has been one of the most profound moments that I've had in Moldova. I have been so grateful to be a part of a school community that has grieved so openly and honestly, all the while supporting its members who were hurting the most.
I never could have anticipated what forms they would take, but I knew that my two years here would have their share of dark moments. Now that they've come, my prayer is that I will be able to share the peace and hope that I've been given with those around me. It doesn't seem like much, but it's all that I can do.
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