June 6... extraordinary tasks

6.05

“There was nothing good men and true could not accomplish when committed to a Noble Task. He saw them all as figures in a romance, embarked on what he was to call The Great Adventure of Panama. They were more themselves, better men, in this wild field of combat.” -David McCullough

Sometimes it seems as if the task ahead is impossible. I’ve discovered where my site is. It is all I could ask for: coastal, four hours from La Ciudad (Panama City for you gringos), running water, electricity, bus service, cell phone signal, and most importantly, ambitious community members. Why am I so nervous for the work ahead? Perhaps nervous is not the right word. A month from now, mas o menos, I am expected to go into this community as the first Peace Corps volunteer they have encountered. I am taking my ever expanding Spanish skills (which don’t seem to be expanding fast enough) and my life, which is conveniently able to fit into a couple of backpacks and entering into a foreign community that will be my home and my work for the next two years. Not only do I have to become a part of the community’s social fabric, I have to get them organized and working, and I have to pave the way for future volunteers. I know I am prepared for this, but, damn, it still seems daunting.
It is going to take an extraordinary effort. I do not mean I a pompous “Real Men of Genius” level of extraordinary. I have been wondering lately about the nature of this word extraordinary. Plenty of people do extraordinary things. I have always had this theory that before one reaches success (real success, not instantaneous winning the genetic lottery type success) life gives you one epic trial to see if you are worth the trouble. Where my theory keeps going wrong though, is I always thought it was a one-time thing. Do your diligence, suffer, pass go, collect your winnings at the window. I am learning now that the trials and travails never stop. It is exhausting, but every now and then I have to remind myself that the work is the reward. I see the volunteers that are two years down the road and they are so relaxed. I worry I’ll never be that relaxed, but then I realize that two years ago, mas o menos, they were showing up in a strange pueblo with limited language skills, a binder full of training tools, their lives on their backs, a shiny new machete, and the hopes that they could do something extraordinary.