“Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them.”  -Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Each day at the community center where I’m placed, we share merienda with the kids at around five o’clock.  I hadn’t heard of it before arriving, but basically it’s the third meal of the day and usually consists of bread, yogurt and a fruit.  I was mildly confused by it at first, it seemed like it was turning dinner into “fourth meal”, but I’ve come to embrace it.

Each Tuesday and Thursday, we take the kids via bus to a pool for swimming lessons.  They’re divided into two groups, and the younger kids go first, have their lessons first, return to the community center first, and eat merienda first.  The older half of the kids follow suit.

A couple of weeks ago, while at the pool, one of the 10 year old girls from the older group called me over (I know it’s wrong to have favorites, but this girl happens to be one that I’m especially fond of).  She told me her stomach really hurt, and was near tears as she was telling me.  So I asked what she’d eaten that day.

“Nada.” She said.

“You haven’t eaten anything, all day?”

“No, nada.” 

She asked if she could go back earlier with the first group and arranged with one of the teachers to do so.  But, I really didn’t know what to say to her.   It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon, and she’d eaten nothing all day.  I just gave her a hug and rubbed her back and told her to go ahead with the rest of the group.

I lagged behind with the stragglers of the younger group, and rushed with them to meet up with the rest of the group who were now waiting at the bus stop to return.  As we approached, I saw that my friend, who had eaten nothing all day, was busy combing and fixing the hair of a 7-year-old girl.  She was patiently and gently untangling a knot that had found its way into the little girl’s hair during the swimming lessons.  Then, she made sure the younger kids all got on the bus before she boarded.

She hadn’t eaten all day.  Her stomach hurt so badly she’d cried.  And then she’d cared for the little kids.  Patiently and kindly, putting their needs before hers. 

My year here is about others- it’s about learning and caring and community.  But when things are still new to me and the language isn’t 100% clear to me, I forget and I often think of myself, first.  When I’m hungry, I can let it be my excuse for not giving as much of myself in whatever I’m doing. 

We have these basic needs- food, clothing, shelter.  They are instilled in our brains and in our ways of maneuvering our lives as the most important things.  But we also have this incredible need to be cared for and to care for others.

I didn’t tell you the name of my friend in this story, and this is why:  I don’t want her name to be associated with something you think of as starving, or as struggling.  I don’t know how often it happens that she doesn’t eat until we share merienda, I don’t know how many of the other kids I see every day wait to eat until five in the afternoon.  I don’t know if this whole not eating thing was some fluke and rarely happens to any of them.  I just know that she showed me, completely unintentionally, that as humans, we not only hunger for food, but we also hunger for interdependence and companionship. And a simple, small action can fulfill that need.  I think this girl could be anyone, for any of us.  Whether it’s a warm hug from a good friend, or a stranger stopping to hold the door; these small gestures can sustain us in times of need.

Once, I heard a Hurricane Katrina survivor talk about being trapped on his roof after the flood.  He said, “I was up there with my little dog, and I looked at him and said- ‘If I can just take care of you, I’m going to be all right.’”

Sometimes that lesson is best explained to us through the action of a child.

Go Big or Go Home.

I got sick here.  Well, I just got better, actually.  Here’s how it happened.  Three weeks ago my body was like, “BAM Kari, you’re in Uruguay and I don’t know what to do about it!” So, I got the flu.  And I went to the doctor.  And it was really overdramatic and involved a fever and missing an outing with the kids at work and people coming to check on me and I really wasn’t that sunshine-y during all of this. 

After about 5 or 6 days I was under the impression I was better.  And I was pretty pumped to be moving away from these sick days.  And then, about a day later my body went, “you know what, Kari, go big or go home.  And right now you’re not technically at home, so BAM again.”   And then I had all these awesome cold symptoms like conjunctivitis and a possible ear infection and a cough that didn’t let anyone in this building sleep.  It was great.

**Short interjection here to give you a little cultural lesson.  People here drink mate.  All the time. 

(Above: People sharing mate)

See that little metal straw?  It’s called a bombilla.  When you drink mate, you share.  You pass it around the circle and you all join in this collective experience of the sharing this age-old beverage.  It’s quite lovely, really and a wonderful reflection on community.  But for our benefit, I’ll cut this short and just let you know- we all drink from the same bombilla- which means that most of the other people I live with were coming down with some sort of cold-like symptom as well.

All except Erin, my fellow YAGM volunteer.  She was flying high, taking good care of all of us, you know, living the dream so to speak.  Then, Sunday morning she woke up to find out that her body had also gone “OMG URUGUAY!” and she’d come down with something, and it really wasn’t great.  We sent her back to bed to recover and the rest of us went to the church service.  The pastor asked where Erin was, and when we explained she had a fever, we found out a member of the congregation was a doctor (she was drinking mate during the service, just as a side note).  After the service, she came upstairs and examined Erin.  Erin’s body clearly wanted to make the biggest impression here, so it had given her some lovely sort of strep-throat type illness.   Eventually the doctor got Erin all set up with antibiotics and let us know we could call any time day or night.  

The doctor also helped me out, and came by to check out my various attractive symptoms.

But here’s the really cool part, and the actual point of this entry.  The doctor came by for the next few days to check on us.  First, she came with her doctor materials and examined us.  Next, she brought me cough syrup; Erin antibiotics; and both of us dinner.  More than that, she’s an extremely friendly and comfortable person.  So she doesn’t just bring the physical things, she brings a smile and encouraging words that let us know it’s ok to be a little homesick and that we shouldn’t feel bad asking her for help.

At the end of that week, as I was brushing my teeth, I thought I heard a familiar voice.  I went in the common room to find a friendly couple from the congregation.  They’d come to check up on us, too.  The women asserted, “When the doctor told me it was both of you who were sick, that’s when I said, that’s it! I’m going to see them and I’m bringing cake!”

And she did bring cake.  And it was awesome.  More importantly, they stayed for a while and talked to us, and invited us to their house anytime, because they knew it had to be hard for us to be away from everyone back home.

So, I learned about community.

Going to the doctor at home isn’t that fun.  Having a wonderful lady come to see you and bring you food? That’s better.  Having her let other people in our new community know about us?  That was pretty cool as well. 

So, you know what, body?  I’m not really that mad at you.  You made me realize how nice people here are, you made me realize we're interconnected.  But, just one thing- next time you want to pull a stunt like this, just remember this is my home now, so try not to go too big.  Thanks.