Lessons of Humility

I don't often write about my shortcomings or failures. There certainly are many, though I usually prefer to keep things positive. This week has been a very humbling week for me, and I want to share just a few of my mistakes.

First of all, I returned from a 1.5 week long vacation to Ukraine visiting some old college friends. It was a fantastic time, full of rest and laughter-- just what the doctor ordered. When I arrived back to my village I was hit with a wall of reality. Of course there would be no air conditioner, that's normal, but there was no running water. Usually the water in my apartment building does not run during the day, but if I just put the clothes washing or dishes aside I can do them in the morning or evening. After a day of no water I went into work and was told that the whole week the water in the village was shut off. I have never had to use a well for the past year that I have been here simply because of my housing situations. I asked my colleagues to show me how to use the well on the walk home so that I could have water for cooking, cleaning, bathing, etc. Boris showed me how to use it, but he wouldn't let me try it myself (which is how I learn best). He told me, "you'll do it yourself every time after this!" That evening I went down to the well and turned the crank back and let the gravity pull the bucket down the hole. Before I knew it the crank was rotating so fast it could have given me a bruise had it hit me. I could also tell by how fast it was going that this was not good, and I needed to stop the crank before the bucket hit the water. But, I couldn't do anything, it was going too fast! Then, very quickly, the bucket hit the water and the crank kept winding up the chain so it was all entangled. I tried to pull the crank back to bring the bucket up but it was stuck. I immediately froze. I just broke the well! The well that two apartment buildings of people use several times daily! I looked around for some neighbors I could ask for help, but I was the only one there. Then, an old man heard all the racket I was making trying to figure out how to fix the chain. He mumbled a million things to me. But I was so embarrassed that I forgot all my Russian--- the only incorrect phrases that came out of my mouth was, "We need... I didn't understand how.. um... um... uh.. I'm American! First time! I'm American!" Yes, I probably did not give Americans any intelligence points on this one, but sometimes it's the only thing to say when trying to explain why you screwed everything up!

The old man did not want to help me, but just kept complaining about what I did. Then another younger man came over and saw what happened and immediately went to work to fix it. Again, with being so embarrassed I could only repeat, "thank you, thank you!" At the same time, a woman came over to fill her bucket and was asking me about the quality of the water, but was asking me in a mix of Bulgarian and Russian and Gagauzian, so I didn't understand her very well... I finally was able to explain that it was my first time using the well, that I've never had to use it since I moved into the apartment, and that I wanted to watch her do it herself. Phew, the language was coming back.

Apparently there is a wooden board on top of the well that you push as the bucket is getting lowered to slow the pace of the chain as it unravels. You can also manually lower the bucket by the crank, which is what I've found is the easiest and most risk-free technique. Often as volunteers we worry about saying the wrong thing and offending the locals, but I realized that if you really want to get the locals mad, try breaking their water lifeline!

The day after, at work, Nadia explained to me how to best do it, and I've since gotten six buckets of water on my own with no troubles. Failure to success! It takes about one bucket of water to fill the toilet, another bucket to do the dishes, and it's quite the walk to carry it up to my fourth floor apartment. The reward afterwards is the ice-cold water to cool your neck.

Next, I brought the softball equipment down to my village this week to play again with the village teens. Organizing was difficult to do last time since we did it in the morning and so I thought we would play in the evening when it was cooler and they have more free time. Last night I saw one teen, Cola, and his two friends on the street. I asked them if they wanted to play and if they could gather up a team by tomorrow evening at 7 p.m. They agreed and I was looking forward to it. When I got to the stadium today no one was there. I called Cola and he said they couldn't gather a team because most of their friends left the village for the summer, or they were out working in the fields. I called another young boy who played last time, Vanya, and he told me he was in the fields and he couldn't. Here I am, trying to get young kids together, which should seem so easy to do in the summer, so easy to organize. However, the daily routine and necessity for these young kids to be in the fields gathering their crops rather than playing sports with friends reminds me that I come from a world that is much more different, and privileged.

My last point of this post is that small things go a long way. The last two days I went into work and helped my colleagues upload pictures to the Russian equivalent of Facebook. Boris asked to borrow my camera so he could take pictures of his garden to show his friends online. After he did that I helped him upload them. Then Nadia saw what he was doing and asked if I still had the pictures that I took at her house from Christmas. Of course I do, so I put them on my flash drive and brought them into work today. When I showed her I brought the Christmas pictures, the Easter pictures, and the pictures from the night my cousin visited when she made dinner she was SO HAPPY. She was so excited to see these pictures. As I helped Nadia upload these photos she leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. It occurred to me then that there are some very big things and projects I could accomplish, and could even fail at accomplishing here, but I think that these people I have gotten to know closely won't care either way. The things that matter are the small things that have really brought a smile to their faces, even if it is from their laughter after realizing that this silly American is going to, "go back home and tell America about getting water in Moldova."