18601km: A Home away from Home

by Yong Quan, Tufts Civic Semester Participant

I stood in the freezing cold, as the grass rustled tentatively beneath my feet.  It’s 11pm, and I peered up into the night sky, expecting darkness. Instead, I was greeted by the stars, glistening in their brilliance and filling up the atmosphere. Then, amidst the speckled sky, a shooting star appears, shimmering and fading in the same moment. I bask in the moment, and think to myself: “I’m not in Singapore anymore, am I?”

Living 18601 kilometers (or 11558 miles; that’s almost halfway around the world) away from home is undoubtedly a rare experience in my life, and is one that I’m still coming to terms to. In Peru, it feels like I’ve exchanged familiarity for adventure, my daily Bee Hoon with Egg for Sopa de Verduras y Pollo, my Singlish for Spanish, my gardens for mountains and my family for a Peruvian one.  Within my group, I catch myself fumbling to switch from British English to American English, and attempting to understand the culture of a continent that has faced its own challenges for centuries, while reorienting myself within a totally different and new community. From personal possessions to lifestyles, these changes become indicators of my presence in Peru and consequently, my absence from home in Singapore.

Yet, upon the beginning of my 3rd week here, I have begun to discover myself from a different perspective. My favorite view (besides the Incan archeological sites and the mountains) is always moving: the 7:30am autobus ride to Calca where my internship placement is located in provides me a unique view of local agriculture, and how buildings are built with Adobe bricks (made of dried clay and straw). As I munch on breakfast, I pass by Catarata Arin (a waterfall in the town of Huaran) and am pertinently aware of the Sacred Valley’s towering heights and how it flanks me on both sides constantly throughout my journey, as the journey ahead seems like it opens up while the road behind looks like it’s being devoured by the mountains. Each new workday offers a visual invitation to embrace the unknown.

In my internship placement, I am sometimes confused by the intricacies of planting and harvesting (coming from a country with an almost nonexistent agricultural industry), as I prepare the soil for new seeds, harvest vegetables, and bond with my new found friends in Eco-Huella Farm. Nonetheless, I lose myself within the work, with every stab of the shovel and pull of the rake, I get closer to learning about Incan irrigation systems, how altitude affects everything, and the philosophy behind Quechua agriculture. In Peru, there are no difficulties, only opportunities to learn and, in time, to serve.

In my new home in Urubamba, I (try to) speak exclusively Spanish, stuttering and muttering as I think about how to translate from English to my new language, while hoping that I don’t end up breaking the flow of the conversation. I hope that my Spanish will improve such that I don’t need to hold onto my phone and open up SpanishDict, but till then, I grit my teeth and continue onwards, hoping to have the audacity to try and the discretion to appreciate the opportunity that has been given to me.

The incessant internal comparisons of the constants and the differences of life will continue. However, in retrospect, an exchange of the familiar for the different sounds like a compromise. As I’ll be here for 3 months, it feels less like compromise, and more like accumulation & assimilation. The idea that I may speak with a different accent (and even in a different tongue), but my eyes light up equally whether I see shades of white & red (my national colors) in the bracelets made by the local weaving collectives or the waterfalls and mountains in the region. That my heart feels a little warmer when the gardens in my farming internship remind me of the ones I have back at home. That I feel a rush of adrenaline on hikes, because being close to the earth and air and wind remind me of my time in the army when creature comforts were not as near, but the opportunities for self-discovery are.

I guess ‘Home’ will always be Singapore, but the idea of what constitutes as home is fluid & always changing for me. And while Bee Hoon with Egg will always have a special place in my stomach, so might Sopa de Verduras y Pollo.

Originally posted here.

Arcturus and Jupiter

By Yujie “Claire”, Tufts Civic Semester Participant

I have always had a fascination for stars. My dad, the very person who brought me into the early business of watching stars, owns a small telescope that he uses weekly till this day. Living in a compound full of apartments and not many gardens, my dad and I didn’t have many options to position the telescope in an open space; we later climbed all the way up to the top of our apartment, which is the 18th floor, and settled down our “unusual” hobby on this empty roof.

Before using the telescope, my dad would ask me to identify a few stars on a phone app called “Star Chart.” If I raise the cellphone and align its position to the direction of a star, “Star Chart” will identify its name and history. Oddly enough, Shenzhen is not known for a heavily-polluted city, but most stars are still barely visible. However, one star, located vertically above us, persists to shine at all times regardless of possible obstruction from thick clouds or thunderstorms. I later learned that this star is called “Arcturus.” “Arcturus never goes away. If you find Arcturus, you find your way of life.” My dad said.

Almost a week ago, I experienced my first chilly evening in the beautiful town of Huarán, Peru. When I left La Sala and headed toward the dining room, I looked up and was amazed to see a skyful of stars of diverse luminance and sizes. I pulled out my cellphone, installed the newest version of “Star Chart,” and raised the cellphone directly above my head. Shockingly, instead of seeing the label “Arcturus” on the star straightly on top, I found “Jupiter” claiming its rightful place.

All of a sudden, the realization that I am no longer in the northern hemisphere struck me hard to the core: Arcturus is no longer directly above me at night; instead, I set my feet onto the earth that temporarily erases its existence at that very moment. Everything is suddenly upside-down; everything is suddenly different from what I have experienced in my last 19 years in the northern hemisphere. All of a sudden, I was overwhelmed with a mixed feeling of amazement and uncertainty: How should I redefine my way of life now if Arcturus, the star that I have long kept in heart since childhood, cannot be seen or felt anymore?

My dad was partially right about his personalized theory of Arcturus, but not correct in its entirety: I once succeeded a quite fulfilling way of life, but one that may not be sustainable in the long run. Arcturus once filled my childhood with unforgettable memories, but I have already started a new phase of life as an adult. Maybe this is why Jupiter has emerged to replace Arcturus; maybe this is what coming to Peru, a country in the southern hemisphere, is all about: the exploration of a sustainable and exciting way of life under the guidance of a new cosmic power. Keeping that Arcturus part of me as an invaluable documentation of my past, I look forward to seeing how the future three months will change the course of my life and instill me with a new sense of purpose.

Originally posted here.

My Bridge Year

By Michael, Tufts 1+4 Participant

I started my gap year with a lot of doubts and likely would not have done it if not for the people around me, who pushed me to try something new. I remember feeling tremendous anxiety and also some frustration about having to push college back. However as soon as I began City Year, I stopped thinking twice. City Year, while rewarding, has been incredibly challenging. Despite several weeks of “basic training” I had little to no training about how to work in a classroom environment. Everything I learned was on the job. I didn’t know how to foster a relationship with students or my partner teacher. I was able to push through and make a challenging experience rewarding, by shifting how I looked at my life. I learned to focus entirely on the present, rather than waiting for the weekend or constantly imagining what my freshman year at Tufts would look like. This past year became like a bubble for me, I felt free to explore who I was outside the confines of an academic environment. City Year consumed me so much that there were long periods where my freshman year of college seemed as distant as it did when I first started high school.

I want to make it very clear that City Year occupying my time was not by any means a bad thing. If anything it was a great thing. As someone who is always second-guessing himself, it was vital that I enter an environment where I had to develop leadership skills on the spot. The class I supported was hectic, for lack of a better word, and my partner teacher needed someone who could be reliable and attentive. As an untrained teacher’s assistant I didn’t always make the best decisions; in fact, I know I made a lot of poor decisions. However, I’m glad I’ve learned that I can fix my mistakes when I was 19. Those mistakes were important. Without them, my relationships with my students never would have changed, and I would still be on my first lesson of Do the Math with my small group.

It’s jarring to know that this period of my life is winding to a close. As I said earlier, my freshman year of college has seemed distant, but suddenly it seems closer than ever. City Year has taken up most of my free time, and I’m excited to see what my life will be like now that I’m moving on. I have a lot of new knowledge and experience to use. But it is also going to be challenging adjusting back to a more normal teenage life. I’ve spent almost a year with total independence, living in a city all by myself and having an adult working lifestyle. On some levels, I worry about how this experience will impact college for me, but mostly I am very excited for the future.

Identity in a Sea of Ambiguity

By Ashley, Tufts 1+4 Participant

In my life, there are few times that questions have truly stumped me and left me scrambling to formulate a clear response. The majority of these instances are linked to any question asked by TSA that turn me into a clammy, stuttering mess for absolutely no reason. Although, I suppose all the “random” security checks really did a number. However, the questions that I am referring to specifically have to do with questions pertaining to language, culture, and identity. I did not give myself the space to think about these aspects of my being and, as a result, had to rush words out of my mouth. Well, at least that was the case. My time in Hyderabad gave me the time to reflect on the questions that I never had clear answers to and also the added vocabulary to add to my repertoire.

बोलो – Bolo (Speak)

My first month I was reasonably quiet; living with new people, in a new environment, and in a new country warrants the occasional uncomfortable silence. However, there were times that I wish I would have spoken up. My host family at the beginning were under the impression that I was Mexican, i.e from Mexico. I figured it had to do with my description on my profile and clarified that I was Mexican-American. Nevertheless, they continued to introduce me as an international Mexican student who would live with them for the next 8 months. While this was all seemingly harmless, it caused me to notice the inner turmoil of the way I identify. My family could not have known that they had begun a cultural exploration that I would take home. While that is all great, looking back I would have wanted to tell myself: “बोलो”. Speak for yourself. But how could I when I didn’t even know my own truth?

My senior year I shared a part of my Mexican-American childhood with my school and this year I wondered where that part of me had gone.

चुप – Chup/Choop (Quiet)

Thoughts began running through my mind that I didn’t have clear answers to: Do I have a claim to Mexico? Can I call myself Mexican or is that disrespectful, as I have the privileges of an American citizenship/passport? Would people of Latin American consider me as Latina as well? What am I- चुप !! I needed time and space away from my own thoughts to reflect. Thankfully, I had all of Hyderabad to take up my time, until I was mistaken as Indian. My racial ambiguity had always been a source of entertainment to see what people would come up with next; however, at this time my racial ambiguity was a reminder how my outer self matched my inner confusion around race and identity.

See, prior to arriving in India, I had an encounter with a Latino who had asked me where I came from after hearing me speak Spanish. Quickly becoming flustered, I began with “Well, my parents are from Mexico but I was born here in the states…” to which he responded, “Oh, so you’re not really Mexican”. My identity had just been discredited by what I considered to be a “real” Latino. My Mexican card had just been rejected. That encounter left my world crumbling and had left me in an existential crisis before my year abroad even began.

This picture is of my mother’s naturalization in becoming a United States citizen. This signified the end of fearing being removed from her family, children, and the country she grew to know as home.

बस – Bus (Enough/Stop)

There came a point where I recognized how far away from myself I felt after constantly questioning my truth; where I allowed my desire for validation to speak for me instead of claiming myself and my story. It also helped to have a friend to tell me “बस”. Enough. Enough of the questioning. Enough. She said all the things I knew and it was up to me to believe. The perceptions that people hold about me are not a representation of what I actually am. I am not to be put in a box just because the world isn’t equipped to broaden the world of identity. Self-care and self-love require you to hold space for your own truth, even if it isn’t what the world considers to be “true”.

Food has always been a way to connect; whether it be serving curry at the table or making a makeshift tortilla station, love and culture are always shared.

शुक्रिया – Shukriya (Thank you )

All I have to say to my experience is शुक्रिया. I needed this year to fully accept the answers to questions the world made of me and to start seeking questions of my own. I was fully complacent, after being awarded a scholarship to a private school, and thought that the golden ticket in my hand meant I couldn’t question what I saw around me.

I have come to realize now that a part of me was right. I have no real roots and that is okay. My family has roots to Mexico and from those, I am able to learn the wisdom and knowledge they carry. Although my roots to the United States are nonexistent, they begin with my sister and me; as well as every first-generation born person in America that will be the roots for their descendants.

Before this year I couldn’t question the intersections of race and identity or the nuances of going through this world as a literal and figurative world traveler as I couldn’t see it. My experience in both American and Mexican cultures equipped me with tools to make a wonderful year living with a wonderful family. I was able to regain my trust in my sense of self and now will not become panicked by questions regarding my identity, language, or culture. While my exposure to language and culture expanded so did my appreciation for all India has to offer the world.

Thank you for a year where I was able to question my surroundings and also myself.

Thank you for the diversity that India has to offer.

I called my mother when I arrived in Agra to show her where her genes, her history had made it to; my growth is a continuation of the journey our family began.

शुक्रिया

My Personal Impasse

By David, Tufts 1+4 Participant

Since coming to Brazil and working at R3 Animal , I am constantly confronted with the challenging irony that is my relationship to animals and the environment. As much as I am fascinated by wildlife (it was the first “encyclopedic passion” that I had) and fostered a great love for nature and environmental protection, the very method that I live my life states otherwise. Back in my life in the United States, I live in a house that is much larger than my family of three need (high water and electricity usage), utilize an enormous amount of single-use plastics (which take centuries to at least partially degrade), and want to engage in worldwide travel (contributing to the already large quantity of greenhouse gas emissions
attributed to air-travel). It only adds another layer of complexity to add the fact I consume meat, including a good amount of red meat, one of the biggest contributors to global warming and land development. I chose Florianopolis Brazil in part to work with this remarkable organization that is deeply committed in the conservation of native wildlife, yet the way of life I have brought with me, especially what I eat, contributes to the contrary.

The very Brazilian society that I have become immersed in sends mixed messages. Even though the biodiversity and beauty of the land is a source of national pride, there lacks a consciousness and motivation to protect it. Brazil is the land of the Amazon (the world’s lungs, producing 20% of its oxygen), the Pantanal (the largest wetlands in the world), and the Mata Atlantica/Atlantic Forest ecosystem (the most bio-diverse ecosystem in the world), to name a few. Yet it is the land where it is most dangerous to be an environmentalist, especially in the frontier regions to the west, where logger barons, agricultural developers, and rogue mining companies take advantage of weak law enforcement and currently, a government that is friendly to construction rather than conservation. I have conversed with many Brazilians (not only those in Florianopolis and the South where I live, but also in the Southeast and Northeast regions from my travels) and a good many of them mentioned that Brazil should exploit more natural resources to increase national wealth. In times of economic strife and financial ruin, the environment and its protections are often the first to go. Factor in limited government spending on environmental initiatives/projects, a dysfunctional national parks system, and lack of education and awareness among the populace, and the demise of Brazil’s natural integrity looms close by.

MATA ATLANTICA ON SANTA CATARINA ISLAND

In addition, Brazil is a land of carnivores; the diet and many classic recipes are dependent on meat. Churrasco, the Brazilian barbecue, is fundamental to social gatherings, where cutting boards of picanha (grilled sirloin cap) and linguiça (Portuguese-style pork sausage) are passed around. There are even churrasco flavored chips sold in supermarkets, which are very popular. Beef is the preferred meat of choice (in addition to being the most environmentally taxing), going to/in everything from steak, burgers (which have taken their own radical spin in Brazil), to being ground in pastel (the Brazilian-version of empanadas). Even many snacks, salgadinhos, contain meat, with among the most popular being mini-pastel (containing ground beef), coxinha (a fritter filled with shredded chicken), and misto-quente (literally a pressed ham and cheese sandwich). Although the vegetarian and
vegan movements have been gaining traction in the country, for many Brazilians, a meal is not a meal without meat.

PREPARING THE FAMILY SUNDAY LUNCH

I have grown up eating meat and I love its flavor; it is something personal that is hard to give up. As I travel and learn about cultures around the world, food plays an integral role in what connects us together, crossing borders and generations. Specially here in Brazil, meat plays a crucial role in not only diet but also in social bonding. Yet, given the unique apprenticeship that I have, as well as my personal desire to be a aware and sustainable traveler, I am constantly confronted by one central question: where is the line between engaging with a nation’s culture and refusing to engage in it on the basis of moral grounds and the welfare of our planet? Culture is supposed to be perpetuated and esteemed through generations, yet what happens if the culture is literally too environmentally unsustainable to continue at our current trajectory? I am a lover of humanity and its culture, yet I am passionate about doing my part in protecting this one planet we have. For me, it is only when I came to Brazil that these two sides have been at odds, the lines clearly blurred. The personal debate is ongoing, one I’ll take back to the United States and my
continued journey. I write this to hold myself accountable to whatever roads I choose to take and the lifestyle choices I will make in this personal and complicated impasse.

What They Taught Me

By Faizah, Tufts 1+4 Participant

This year, so many things did not go as planned. 10 months ago, I might have looked at this sentence and thought, Oh no! But today, I write this with a pleasant feeling. This year, I planned on teaching. Instead, I was schooled. Over. And over. And over again.

My students taught me from day one to never underestimate their brilliant capacity. Everyday, they surprise me with how quickly they grasp new ideas and complete their work – or don’t by cleverly avoiding work. They teach me to be patient, that greatness takes time. My students remind me that every child needs a role model. My students teach me that there is no such thing as a good kid or a bad kid; they teach me that it is all in what I choose to do and say. My students remind me to be sensitive of the emotions around me. They teach me to love and to laugh. They remind me to celebrate small victories, and they motivate me to never lose sight of my larger goals. I’ve learned that every student is special, and every child deserves a chance.

My team teaches me to trust. They show me that I can cry, laugh, and scream in a safe space. They teach me that trust goes both ways. They teach me to have open and honest conversations. My team teaches me that a support system catches me when I fall, and also provides a resistance that bounces me back up. They cheer me on as I step outside my comfort zone, and give me the space to trip and fall on my own. They teach me that people will care for me in surprising ways, and that acts of kindness are no burden for people who care. My team teaches me what it feels like to have people in my life who truly matter, and that maintaining my relationships with my teammates might just be the biggest takeaway I get from City Year.

My partner teachers exude with passion for our students. They come back to the classroom everyday in the face of an unsupportive administration and uncooperative behaviors, an act of true perseverance and love. They teach me how to advocate for others, and that to be a teacher in a Title I school means to give and be the voice for our children. They push me to remain consistent, ultimately in the best interest of our students. They remind me to be my best, to self-care, and to ask them for help when I need it. They teach me to do it all with excellence, for the kids.