It’s been a week since I first landed on Paraguay soil, and it has been enjoyable. The people have been friendly and the schedule was kind enough to make so we arrived on the first day of spring (though yesterday was incredibly cold). I guess like anything incredibly new, it has come with a few surprises. The neatly-packaged two sentence description of what I’d be doing for the better part of a year was not in fact correct. I will not be working with MEDA Paraguay for the coming year.
I'm gonna be working with Desiciones a sex ed program. It took me a little bit to recover from this blow, as my mind was set on helping out with MEDA, I was very excited to work with economic development. Even for someone who adjusts to changes of plans well, this was a change that made me step back and say what? I reacted very negatively in my head, but I continued to listen. I needed to figure out what I was doing there. They told me that I’d be working with databases of high school students, maybe some photography and design work for their magazine as well as possibly updating the website. And this has helped me cope with the change. It’s not stuff I was trained to do, but I think I have enough of a base to learn as I go along. It’s work that will make me feel good and challenge me (I hope).
But yeah, the past week and a half has been overall enjoyable, meeting people, trying to communicate, sometimes succeeding, other times failing miserably, but I’m ready for this year here away from the comfort of my home and language.
Oh, and the other night I got lost. But its ok, because I only was lost for an hour and it wasn’t that dark when my host dad found me (curled up by the side of the road sucking my thumb). When you have general directions like go past the skinny park, turn right where there is a tall house, and you lose the telephone number of your destination and lack the address… It’s hard to get places. My family made me memorize our address and home phone number before I left the house the next morning.
Sometimes when I feel down I have one of those Dove Chocolates with the inspirational sort of quotes on them. They say cool things like, “Buy flowers for yourself today.” I did not do that, but the thought of maybe having flowers put a smile on my face.
So here’s the first post, I don’t know if I was very informative or descriptive, if you want more information e-mail me or comment saying “tell me more!” or something like that.
Daniel H. P.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Soup Kitchens, Mormons and Obama
So, today we volunteered in a soup kitchen. I suppose the action I thirsted for yesterday was to be quenched. I’d never worked in a soup kitchen, but I had this preconceived idea of what it might be, and it kind of met those expectations. I guess its fairly straightforward: there’s people making the food, food and people that need the food. But maybe that makes everything way too basic. I tried going in with a mindset of that I would at Subway, they were customers and I wasn’t doing anything noble by serving them.
After arriving at the soup kitchen a half an hour early, the six of us killed time by checking out the coffee shop The Hidden Pearl (apparently it was hidden for a reason… the girls said the coffee really wasn’t great). We then sat outside the Kenwood Soup Kitchen for about 20 minutes while we waited for the other volunteers to show up. The door was then unlocked and they proceeded to lead us to a room where we were told to wait for further instructions. So much for doing away with inaction… After waiting in the empty room for about 30 minutes we were given two large pans of peppers to slice and dice.
We talked and sliced, sliced and talked and then a couple of Mormons showed up, smartly dressed with their white shirts and striped ties. I just remember the one’s name (Jeffrey, he let it slip) because they introduced themselves by their last names (apparently they all go by the first name Elder while their doing there missionary work… who knew). They sliced eggplant, while we continued chopping are peppers. Then two more showed up. We cut some more. And then another showed up. We finished up chopping, and then the eleven of us moved to the kitchen/dining hall to help serve.
That was awkward. The Mormons kind of knew what they were doing, but we were very much the rookies, and stood around creating traffic jams at key intersections and asked continuously, “what can I do?” I kind of wondered how much help I was being. The Mormons reassured us saying, “lots of waiting for things to do goes on” and at that very moment I was terrified. Would I be waiting for things to do for the next ten months? What if I can’t find a purpose, I just am there in Paraguay, and no one has a use for me? That’s probably my biggest fear.
After suffering this minor panic attack from trying to glimpse in the future, I calmed my self by serving beans and potatoes. After all of the people had gone through I had my turn at the spread in front of me: green beans, potatoes, salad, cornbread, cake, and a delicious tomato corn sort of soup. It was a feast. Probably in the top 10 best meals I’ve had in Chicago… maybe top 5, I dunno. I had a nice talk with a guy named Patrick who apparently sold sandwiches when he wasn’t here eating at the Kenwood Soup Kitchen among various other facts ranging from how Iowa’s a great place to go to college and how he’s never going back to Minnesota. I guess what I’m trying to get at it is when I felt like I wasn’t having an impact, I just sat down and talked with someone. That made my time worthwhile. So, in Paraguay, if there’s nothing else for me to do, I suppose I can just sit down and try and relate.
FACT. Obama’s house was about 4 blocks from the soup kitchen. No, I didn’t go. Apparently there are quite a few cops and the house is hard to see. At least that’s what Jeffrey the Mormon tells us.
After arriving at the soup kitchen a half an hour early, the six of us killed time by checking out the coffee shop The Hidden Pearl (apparently it was hidden for a reason… the girls said the coffee really wasn’t great). We then sat outside the Kenwood Soup Kitchen for about 20 minutes while we waited for the other volunteers to show up. The door was then unlocked and they proceeded to lead us to a room where we were told to wait for further instructions. So much for doing away with inaction… After waiting in the empty room for about 30 minutes we were given two large pans of peppers to slice and dice.
We talked and sliced, sliced and talked and then a couple of Mormons showed up, smartly dressed with their white shirts and striped ties. I just remember the one’s name (Jeffrey, he let it slip) because they introduced themselves by their last names (apparently they all go by the first name Elder while their doing there missionary work… who knew). They sliced eggplant, while we continued chopping are peppers. Then two more showed up. We cut some more. And then another showed up. We finished up chopping, and then the eleven of us moved to the kitchen/dining hall to help serve.
That was awkward. The Mormons kind of knew what they were doing, but we were very much the rookies, and stood around creating traffic jams at key intersections and asked continuously, “what can I do?” I kind of wondered how much help I was being. The Mormons reassured us saying, “lots of waiting for things to do goes on” and at that very moment I was terrified. Would I be waiting for things to do for the next ten months? What if I can’t find a purpose, I just am there in Paraguay, and no one has a use for me? That’s probably my biggest fear.
After suffering this minor panic attack from trying to glimpse in the future, I calmed my self by serving beans and potatoes. After all of the people had gone through I had my turn at the spread in front of me: green beans, potatoes, salad, cornbread, cake, and a delicious tomato corn sort of soup. It was a feast. Probably in the top 10 best meals I’ve had in Chicago… maybe top 5, I dunno. I had a nice talk with a guy named Patrick who apparently sold sandwiches when he wasn’t here eating at the Kenwood Soup Kitchen among various other facts ranging from how Iowa’s a great place to go to college and how he’s never going back to Minnesota. I guess what I’m trying to get at it is when I felt like I wasn’t having an impact, I just sat down and talked with someone. That made my time worthwhile. So, in Paraguay, if there’s nothing else for me to do, I suppose I can just sit down and try and relate.
FACT. Obama’s house was about 4 blocks from the soup kitchen. No, I didn’t go. Apparently there are quite a few cops and the house is hard to see. At least that’s what Jeffrey the Mormon tells us.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Estoy listo.
Monday, September 14th.
It's less than a week now before I leave for Paraguay and my thoughts flip between excitement for all the things to come and the apprehension of exiting a comfort zone for the better part of a year. I'm struggling with the inaction which sometimes I feel orientation, but the "inaction" was valuable (right?). Readying my mind, giving me knowledge and enabling me to be the best I possibly can. But I suppose I have no way of measuring the value of this time. I know it helped... I just don't know how much. I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm ready to go. Say the goodbyes, board my plane and go.
It's less than a week now before I leave for Paraguay and my thoughts flip between excitement for all the things to come and the apprehension of exiting a comfort zone for the better part of a year. I'm struggling with the inaction which sometimes I feel orientation, but the "inaction" was valuable (right?). Readying my mind, giving me knowledge and enabling me to be the best I possibly can. But I suppose I have no way of measuring the value of this time. I know it helped... I just don't know how much. I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm ready to go. Say the goodbyes, board my plane and go.
cross-cultural
Sunday the 13th.
I appreciated the cross-cultural weekend in Goshen. I say this not because of the “hippie mentality” that people associate this campus with, but rather in comparison with my heavily tattooed, anything-pierced friends at Jesus People USA (the place I’m currently staying) the Goshen campus had the distinct air of conservatism. This wasn’t the same feel I had gotten in previous visits when the norm was shaped by the Hesston College standard. I suppose this shows how perspectives change when one is in a new environment (like a new country…) for a while, how familiar things become weird and the weird seems normal.
I appreciated the cross-cultural weekend in Goshen. I say this not because of the “hippie mentality” that people associate this campus with, but rather in comparison with my heavily tattooed, anything-pierced friends at Jesus People USA (the place I’m currently staying) the Goshen campus had the distinct air of conservatism. This wasn’t the same feel I had gotten in previous visits when the norm was shaped by the Hesston College standard. I suppose this shows how perspectives change when one is in a new environment (like a new country…) for a while, how familiar things become weird and the weird seems normal.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Hospitality.
We were given an assignment this morning. Go and be hospitable. We weren't given any sort of extra instructions, but simply that, go and be hospitable. So I thought about it. Hospitality has to do with treating guests or strangers warmly. And I was in Chicago, where there are about 2.8 million strangers (minus the 100 some odd people I've met so far) so advantage me. I didn't really have a place to host, so I decided to create one.
I took two armchairs from our flat, awkwardly toted them (with the help of Tim Wenger, he's quite helpful) about a half a block in front of a somewhat busy intersection and set them up facing the street. I then placed a sign that simply said, "wanna talk?" on the chair opposite of me and waited. I wasn't really sure what to expect, the idea was really in the moment, and I decided to run with it.
I felt kind of foolish, and after ten minutes all I thought that would result was awkward stares and a sunburnt nose (the only shade I had was courtesy of a year old tree that didn't have the most impressive set of leaves). People weren't really rude... they just weren't quite sure what was going on. After these painfully slow minutes I had what I thought was my first customers. Unfortunately, Johan and Mary Jane (I really couldn't make these names up) were taking their dogs on a walk, but told me they really wanted to talk with me and they'd be back in an hour. I nodded, smiled and said I'd be here.
Seconds after they left, a middle aged Panamanian woman wearing some sort pirate-looking bandana and large hoop earrings sat down, thoroughly fascinated that someone was here to just talk. It quickly turned into an evangelism session of sorts and it was my soul that needed saving. It was a religion of Japanese origins and centered in large part on cause and effect and karma and sounded very exotic... I think it started with an n. She asked me about my faith and what I was doing here, and I clumsily did my best to explain Mennonites (she was well versed with Christianity) and how I was going to Paraguay and she was quite patient and receptive through all of this. I sensed that she wanted to talk more and so I opened the door for her to speak and she continued to tell me about her belief system. This all went down in about 45 minutes.
After Miriam left, I pulled out my required reading, Foreign to Familiar, and squinted through about 5 pages before I decided to surrender my battle with the sun. I looked around. People now seemed more receptive to the pale twenty year old with braces sitting on the corner of Hazel and Wilson. I got some smiles, a few waves and even an enthusiastic thumbs up from a passing car. I felt good.
Then Hutch showed up. He was 53 wanted to talk about Revelation. At least that's what he told me. Hutch was homeless, and after exchanging a few words about the last book of Bible, he started telling me about his life in short responses... he needed some prodding. But I'm pretty sure he wanted to talk, I mean he sat down. I found out he had lived in Chicago his whole life and played multiple positions in football in high school (left end, center and leftfield. I think the last one was a joke.) and his favorite book was a biography of Hellen Keller. But Hutch left as quickly as Miriam showed up. He told me he needed a phone to call his uncle. I asked him where his uncle lived. He said about a block that way. I said why don't you just visit him? And then he sat up and left.
After Hutch had gone, I was kind of sweating, the sun was starting to crisp my face and I had a slushee appointment with James in 10 minutes... I called it an afternoon.
I think I learned a few things through this exercise on hospitality.
One, people genuinely want to talk. They want to express their opinions, they want others to agree with them and a lot of times they just need to be listened too. I do. Second, you have to be intentional about listening, especially when you don't agree with someone. It wasn't easy sitting through Miriam talking for 45 minutes about her religion. I appreciated what she had to say, but it was work hearing about the intricacies of her beliefs. There were moments when Hutch and I just kind of stared at each other. That was fine. It was kinda awkward then, but I'm still here.
Finally, people appreciate when you make the effort for hospitality... or whatever it is I did this afternoon. People seemed to think it was a good idea, with the approving smiles as well as the verbal affirmation I got from Johan and Miriam. Its important to welcome them whoever they are. I suppose they'll appreciate when you try. I think this is how I need to approach things in Paraguay... with a level of caring and effort. I don't know what my action's today led to, but I think it reinforced some important beliefs.
Daniel
I took two armchairs from our flat, awkwardly toted them (with the help of Tim Wenger, he's quite helpful) about a half a block in front of a somewhat busy intersection and set them up facing the street. I then placed a sign that simply said, "wanna talk?" on the chair opposite of me and waited. I wasn't really sure what to expect, the idea was really in the moment, and I decided to run with it.
I felt kind of foolish, and after ten minutes all I thought that would result was awkward stares and a sunburnt nose (the only shade I had was courtesy of a year old tree that didn't have the most impressive set of leaves). People weren't really rude... they just weren't quite sure what was going on. After these painfully slow minutes I had what I thought was my first customers. Unfortunately, Johan and Mary Jane (I really couldn't make these names up) were taking their dogs on a walk, but told me they really wanted to talk with me and they'd be back in an hour. I nodded, smiled and said I'd be here.
Seconds after they left, a middle aged Panamanian woman wearing some sort pirate-looking bandana and large hoop earrings sat down, thoroughly fascinated that someone was here to just talk. It quickly turned into an evangelism session of sorts and it was my soul that needed saving. It was a religion of Japanese origins and centered in large part on cause and effect and karma and sounded very exotic... I think it started with an n. She asked me about my faith and what I was doing here, and I clumsily did my best to explain Mennonites (she was well versed with Christianity) and how I was going to Paraguay and she was quite patient and receptive through all of this. I sensed that she wanted to talk more and so I opened the door for her to speak and she continued to tell me about her belief system. This all went down in about 45 minutes.
After Miriam left, I pulled out my required reading, Foreign to Familiar, and squinted through about 5 pages before I decided to surrender my battle with the sun. I looked around. People now seemed more receptive to the pale twenty year old with braces sitting on the corner of Hazel and Wilson. I got some smiles, a few waves and even an enthusiastic thumbs up from a passing car. I felt good.
Then Hutch showed up. He was 53 wanted to talk about Revelation. At least that's what he told me. Hutch was homeless, and after exchanging a few words about the last book of Bible, he started telling me about his life in short responses... he needed some prodding. But I'm pretty sure he wanted to talk, I mean he sat down. I found out he had lived in Chicago his whole life and played multiple positions in football in high school (left end, center and leftfield. I think the last one was a joke.) and his favorite book was a biography of Hellen Keller. But Hutch left as quickly as Miriam showed up. He told me he needed a phone to call his uncle. I asked him where his uncle lived. He said about a block that way. I said why don't you just visit him? And then he sat up and left.
After Hutch had gone, I was kind of sweating, the sun was starting to crisp my face and I had a slushee appointment with James in 10 minutes... I called it an afternoon.
I think I learned a few things through this exercise on hospitality.
One, people genuinely want to talk. They want to express their opinions, they want others to agree with them and a lot of times they just need to be listened too. I do. Second, you have to be intentional about listening, especially when you don't agree with someone. It wasn't easy sitting through Miriam talking for 45 minutes about her religion. I appreciated what she had to say, but it was work hearing about the intricacies of her beliefs. There were moments when Hutch and I just kind of stared at each other. That was fine. It was kinda awkward then, but I'm still here.
Finally, people appreciate when you make the effort for hospitality... or whatever it is I did this afternoon. People seemed to think it was a good idea, with the approving smiles as well as the verbal affirmation I got from Johan and Miriam. Its important to welcome them whoever they are. I suppose they'll appreciate when you try. I think this is how I need to approach things in Paraguay... with a level of caring and effort. I don't know what my action's today led to, but I think it reinforced some important beliefs.
Daniel
Friday, September 4, 2009
Fun!
Well, Rachel (co-participant) said I should blog about having fun because that's what she did, so here goes. I probably won't do as good of job as her, because, well, she's always having fun. To those who don't have the privilege of knowing Rachel, I'm sorry, but those who do will have an appreciation for Rachel and fun.
I would say I'm having fun here. For the first time in too long that isn't my main goal. I mean, I want to have fun here, but I'm here to learn. I'm here to get to know people, understand stuff about God, understand stuff about myself and if I do that I think the fun will follow... and it definitely has, in these two weeks. At Hesston College (the fine institution I spent the last two years of my life at), it seemed too often the question was how can I enjoy myself the most, rather than how will I grow the most. (don't worry all, I grew lots at Hesston.)
These questions are both important, but the changing of emphasis, hopefully, represents a level up on the spectrum of maturity. But I was writing about fun, and well, this isn't about fun.
I'm in Chicago, and so naturally there's lots to do. Festivals, libraries, sports, the Navy Pier, lake Michigan, museums... the prospect of going to the Field Museum has sort of renewed my previously dormant passion for dinosaurs (I don't know who all knew me as a first grader, but I could rattle off a fact or two about Triceratops back then).
But the thing that I'm enjoying the most about Chicago is the characters I meet in Chicago. I could tell you about Fred who hangs outside JPUSA (Jesus People USA, the place I'm staying, its not a cult), always troubling us for a cup of Kool-Aid (it's really not a cult... Fred drinks it every day). I could tell you about the White Supremecist, Neo-Nazi who struck up a conversation with a group of four of us about Anabaptists. I could tell you about the guy (who I unfortunately wasn't able to talk with, just observe from a distance on the Subway), who was the expert on everything, planned on being the president in 2012 and was, with his wife, a master in ballroom dancing as well as tae kwon do. A true rennaissance man no doubt.
While this is just a brief sampling of some of the extremes in Chicago, I hope it gives you a glimpse of the wide variety of types that live here. It is another culture. It is fascinating for me to understand how these people operate and what things have shaped them and what there favorite time of day is and all that other stuff (not just the eccentric ones, though they are a treat to talk to). I think conversation is the key to understanding a culture, not books or simple observation. They help, but I think relating with people is where you'll discover the most. All the more reason to keep on practicing the Spanish I suppose...
Well, I suppose I deviated from the attempted topic. And I rambled. But if you have any questions about what I said or what I didn't say, feel free to e-mail me at: dhp1020@hotmail.com or if you're more of a pen and paper person this is my mailing address:
Daniel Penner
I would say I'm having fun here. For the first time in too long that isn't my main goal. I mean, I want to have fun here, but I'm here to learn. I'm here to get to know people, understand stuff about God, understand stuff about myself and if I do that I think the fun will follow... and it definitely has, in these two weeks. At Hesston College (the fine institution I spent the last two years of my life at), it seemed too often the question was how can I enjoy myself the most, rather than how will I grow the most. (don't worry all, I grew lots at Hesston.)
These questions are both important, but the changing of emphasis, hopefully, represents a level up on the spectrum of maturity. But I was writing about fun, and well, this isn't about fun.
I'm in Chicago, and so naturally there's lots to do. Festivals, libraries, sports, the Navy Pier, lake Michigan, museums... the prospect of going to the Field Museum has sort of renewed my previously dormant passion for dinosaurs (I don't know who all knew me as a first grader, but I could rattle off a fact or two about Triceratops back then).
But the thing that I'm enjoying the most about Chicago is the characters I meet in Chicago. I could tell you about Fred who hangs outside JPUSA (Jesus People USA, the place I'm staying, its not a cult), always troubling us for a cup of Kool-Aid (it's really not a cult... Fred drinks it every day). I could tell you about the White Supremecist, Neo-Nazi who struck up a conversation with a group of four of us about Anabaptists. I could tell you about the guy (who I unfortunately wasn't able to talk with, just observe from a distance on the Subway), who was the expert on everything, planned on being the president in 2012 and was, with his wife, a master in ballroom dancing as well as tae kwon do. A true rennaissance man no doubt.
While this is just a brief sampling of some of the extremes in Chicago, I hope it gives you a glimpse of the wide variety of types that live here. It is another culture. It is fascinating for me to understand how these people operate and what things have shaped them and what there favorite time of day is and all that other stuff (not just the eccentric ones, though they are a treat to talk to). I think conversation is the key to understanding a culture, not books or simple observation. They help, but I think relating with people is where you'll discover the most. All the more reason to keep on practicing the Spanish I suppose...
Well, I suppose I deviated from the attempted topic. And I rambled. But if you have any questions about what I said or what I didn't say, feel free to e-mail me at: dhp1020@hotmail.com or if you're more of a pen and paper person this is my mailing address:
Daniel Penner
c/o Visiting Group Coordinator JPUSA
920 W. Wilson
Chicago IL 60640
Thanks for reading.
Daniel.
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