A matter of perspective

I went to an event last weekend at a volunteer’s community library, by far one of the most incredible projects in Peace Corps Dominican Republic history. (OK, there’s no way I can back up such a claim, but you’ll just have to see it.) We celebrated art night, a gathering of volunteers who shared artistic talents after eating delicious Indian food made by Shilpa (pictured above, in her favorite part of the library, the children’s section), whose community and project we were visiting.

After the musical and other performances, we settled into a sort of story time. Shilpa sat before the group and told us this one, paraphrased by yours truly:

Everything in this library has a little story behind it. This one is about the inverter, with batteries, that provides electricity the library during blackouts.

There’s this bachatero (guy who sings bachata music) from Bonao, the big town near Shilpa’s site. So running out of funds for this huge, incredibly work-intensive project, she thought, I should try El Torito, as he is affectionately known.

She started going to his house, and leaving him letters. She befriended the guard who provided security at all hours. When she got no response, she started launching the letters into the yard instead of leaving them with his people. Then she managed to wile her way into the yard, so that she could knock on his door and try to deliver the message personally.

After weeks without a response, she was getting desperate. She decided to write him a personal letter, feeling that sometimes the best response you get is when you put the matter on a personal rather than professional level. She told him she was a Peace Corps Volunteer, 27 years old, dedicated to building a library for the children and youth of her community. Finally, she got a response. On the phone, he asked her to come to her house, at night. As she was hanging up, he said “Quiero darte un beso,” I want to give you a kiss. She thought that was odd, but maybe misheard or misunderstood it. She gathered her supporters and prepared to go to his house. Then she got a text saying that she should go alone.

She didn’t, but the next day they called again and he agreed to actually visit the library. Within a couple days, his people delivered the inverter and batteries. So what was all that sexual harassment nonsense? Her project partner, a Dominican man in his 30s who had proudly tauted the inverter’s connection to the famed Torito to all its visitors, explained that as a famous rich man he probably thought he could get any woman.

To me, it sounded like the usual disgusting behavior on the part of Dominican men that I have sadly come to expect. To Shilpa, it was a bump in the road, a small flaw in an otherwise good human being, a minor note in an otherwise major victory for her community.

Something I’ve realized the hard way in the course of Peace Corps is that some volunteers can put up with a lot more than others. Some can maintain their optimism and keep their generous hearts giving despite mistreatment, lack of support, and a million obstacles. Shilpa is one of these people. Her generosity of heart kept her going on this project when the rest of us throw our hands up in the air and become bitter. But I’ve also come to the point where I understand that to some extent, these are differences among people, and not all of us can be as good as Shilpa. We all do as much as we can, and we have to stop trying when it starts to erode our good spirit.