The Song (never) Remains The Same and I Ramble On

Just talked with my brother and Abigail Partlow and really enjoyed them letting me rant and express the ups and downs of living in Moldova. It's great to have a brother who's also my best and longest friend (next to my sister). We can take leaves of absences and not talk much, but reunite instantly when we have the time to talk over skype. It's amazing that I can relate the experience here so easily to him, and he either understands it or acts like he does. I don't know where or how my brother will end up, or if he will ever "end up," but I know he enjoys the ride.

Speaking of ride, yesterday we ventured over to Ocnița (about 30 km away, also in Moldova) where Natalie and Maryam (other PC volunteers) live and where we were treated to a tour of Ocnița, coffee and snacks, and some great experience-swapping (another great unmentioned bonus of serving in the Peace Corps). Maryam summed up a key thought well when she expressed how amazing it is that each volunteer experiences a completely different journey, even being in the same country and the same program (English teaching, Agriculture development, etc.). We are continually stunned at how much variety Moldova has to offer. So much variation depends on which relationships volunteers are blessed with and how those relationships shape the "Moldova" that volunteer gets to know. Our understanding of Moldova is very much shaped by our partners, director, students, and school community.

Tomorrow starts a short week in Briceni for both of us as by the end of the week we'll be heading to Chisinau for a training focusing on "Program Design and Management." I am especially excited about this training because I will attend it with our school director and be a part of directly transferring skills to her so she can implement improvements. The most sustainable Peace Corps models don't just include host-country nationals, but center the training, skill, or project around the host-country nationals' implementation of some change. A more experienced volunteer who I look up to said it like this: "The most sustainable practice we can be involved in is development through education." Although my training in the summer was greatly focused on transferring skills to my partners and school,  a fair-deal of it was also focused on preparing me to live and work in Moldova (language training, generic teacher-training, etc.). This upcoming training will be directed towards my director with me tagging along for the ride. It excites me just to think about the concept.

With this training wholly focused on skills-transfer to our director and school, it reminds me of the reality of the situation. A large part of how we think about this experience and Moldova in general is tied to the fact that we plan to stay here for a limited amount of time. A big part of the Peace Corps goal is for us to aid development through the transfer of skills, but a big part of our time already spent here has been our development to become a bit integrated to our community. By the end of February, we will pass the 1/3 marker, which is astonishing, because I truly feel as though I just arrived. Indicators of progress have barely been nudged, and evidence of my short existence in Moldova is limited to a few students' vague memories of the "Americans who couldn't speak Romanian (or Russian)." (I don't really believe that sums it all up, but it might get close). I spoke with another volunteer about this briefly. She is five or six months away from "Close of Service," so I asked her how she felt. She couldn't believe it and, of course, said the time flew by. I realize that will be us in one year, with only a few months to wrap up with. We will be looking back at our brief stay in Moldova to wonder what it means for us and our Moldovan friends. It reminds me of a quote written by Tolkien which I will apologetically use out of context here: "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us." Looking forward is a funny way of looking backward, so I will apply this bit of insight to the future and hope that I don't look back on any part of this and regret something. I know that each day is a gift to use to make a little of heaven more apparent on Earth.

There are some intimidating differences between Americans and Moldovans. Some of the differences can easily produce guilt in my heart, and at times when those differences are noted in my presence, I try to have the where-with-all to accept it with dignity. The vast wealth of America is no secret, but talking about it from my homeland is a little different than it being discussed in my presence by a group of people who wish on their best day to have a taste of that feast and on their worst to merely be able to clean up after it. When we look at the numbers, I try to put a stoic, concerned-but-not-corny look on my face that will show I empathize with how Moldovans feel about the stark void that separates our lives. As hard as I try, some days that expression is little more. I will never fully comprehend the extent of the difference, nor will I ever completely grasp or fulfill the responsibility it garners.

One thing I believe I'm learning is the value of my confidence. The fact that I have security taught by my family, reinforced by my options, and challenged but proved by my choices gives me a huge advantage in the world. That advantage does not necessarily make me a better businessman, money-maker, or entrepreneur, but it does make me a better learner and, prayerfully, teacher. But what lesson should I teach? What America may lack, it makes up for in choices and variation. Our endless options make us optimists and schemers of the best sort. Our over-used expression is exactly what we can offer the world: "Where there's a will, there's a way." When applied to developmental anthropology, this optimism is the ideal enemy of the oppressive limits created by suffering.