When my project counterpart, Marcial, and I went to defend
our project in front of a panel in Managua,
things could not have gone better, mostly because I said about ten words total. Anyone who knows about SPA (small project assistance)
grants knows that this is a very good thing, because it means Don Marcial did
almost all of the talking, proving that the community is taking an active role
in the project, and has the capacity to see it thought. He answered all the difficult questions so
clearly and knowledgably that I just sat there, and let the panel be
impressed. It was awesome.
About five weeks later, after all the various paperwork from
D.C. and Managua
was settled, our check arrived in the Peace Corps office. Now ladies and gentlemen, this is when I
inform those of you who do not know me about how absentminded I am, which would
explain how I neglected to bring my passport with me to open a new bank account
to deposit the check in Managua
with the help of Peace Corps staff. Instead,
I would have to return to my town, get my passport, and open the account at my
local bank.
So much to the chagrin of everyone, I took the nine hour bus
ride back to my town, with a check worth more than a thousand dollars stuffed
down my pants in my money belt. At the
end of the trip, that check looked as if it had seen better days, as I’m sure
it had; being next to my sweaty abdomen for that long would be a traumatic
event for anything. To his credit, the
super cute teller at my bank didn’t say a thing when I presented him with what
was surely the most wrinkled and worn check he had ever seen, and in the end we
had the money in the bank, ready for our project.
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