My instinct when arriving in a new place, especially one with a different language and distinct culture, is to be like a sponge. I try to take in everything—the words, foods, ideas, and cultural idiosyncrasies—with little judgment. I never want to be prideful and act like I know better. My experiences and lack thereof have taught me that I do not know better and that although the United States does a lot of great things, we are far from perfect. While I am accustomed to asking questions and soaking up new information, I cringe at the thought of stepping into a new place and making suggestions or expressing my opinion too much.
Up until this summer I had done pretty well traveling the world as a sponge. All of my trips were very relationship-centered. I would engage in conversation and listen and learn as much as I could about the people and the places I visited. Although we may have built a house or painted a room, I always left these trips knowing that my contribution was mostly relational. Anyone can do a little construction work (and certainly better than me), but I had connected with others in a way that we will cherish for a long time. While I do value building relationships with people of different cultures, I always wondered if I could do more. And that’s how I ended up here.
From the beginning this fellowship was different. Although it is an incredible learning experience, the Global Social Benefit Fellowship is about creating high quality deliverables that will support the social enterprises we work with. Starting in April our professors and mentors worked hard to prepare us for the summer, to equip us with the skills and knowledge needed to make a positive and valuable contribution. Yes, we would learn a lot, and yes, we would build relationships with the people we met, but we would also tangibly contribute something of value.
While this concept of action research excited me and attracted me to the fellowship, eventually I realized it meant I had to be more than a sponge. I could still ask as many questions as before, and more, but then I had to take that information, process it, discuss it, add to it, and use it to produce something valuable. This scared me. I felt, and still often feel, that I do not know enough to contribute. Before this fellowship I knew nothing about business and nothing about agriculture. I worried I would be posing as an expert on a topic I knew little about.
With all this in mind, I arrived in Mexico feeling that same tension between action and inaction that I mentioned in my last post. I wanted to be proactive—ask questions, discuss ideas, start to form solutions—but I also wanted to be flexible. When traveling abroad everyone tells you to be flexible. You’re supposed to go with the flow and not get upset when the bus takes four hours longer than expected or someone serves you a questionable meal. It’s all about embracing the unknown and experiencing the new culture. I’m all for embracing flexibility. I believe it makes the experience more enjoyable and teaches patience and the ability to let go of control. However, I never realized how I could mistake passivity for flexibility. I assumed that if I stepped back and let others make decisions I was being flexible. But there are times to go with the flow and other times to speak up. In Mexico, I had to speak up. Quite literally as the translator, I was everyone’s voice at one point or another.
Translating for a biobolsa owner
So rather than choosing flexibility, passivity, or action, I lived in the tension of all three. I had to learn when to step back and let others take over and when to assert myself. And while I definitely didn’t always choose the right action in every situation, through this process I slowly started to see that I had something to contribute. As our ideas developed more and more and our words transferred to paper, I realized I was a valuable part of this team. I am definitely not an expert in business or agriculture, and I may never be, but I bring unique talents and experiences to the team. I know it may sound obvious, but it is one thing to know you have something to contribute and an entirely different experience to truly believe it about yourself.
Paul and me with part of the Sistema Biobolsa team
All of this was really a lesson on perspective. Translating offered a little window into how others think and process information. Some people communicate in a very straightforward way, while others like to tell stories to illustrate a point. It was so clear, through translating, working with Paul, and communicating with the Sistema Biobolsa staff, that each person attacks a problem or an issue from a different angle. I’ve always known that everyone sees life from a different perspective, but I never realized how valuable this fact was until faced with a complex challenge. The project Paul and I are working on can be approached from countless different angles. I am certain that we would not be able to create an end product of value without trying to understand the issues from the perspectives of the Sistema Biobolsa staff, our mentors, and most importantly, the farmers themselves.
Drawings for, “What does Sistema Biobolsa mean to me?”
One week before Paul and I left Mexico, Alex and Camilo, the founders of Sistema Biobolsa, and all the other employees who work in Mexico City, came to the Puebla office to take staff pictures. Alex gathered us all up, gave us each an 8×11 piece of paper, and assigned us the task of answering the question, “What does Sistema Biobolsa mean to me?” It was so interesting to see how each person tackled this project. Some took it very literally, drawing out farm animals, a biodigester, and a farmer, while others, like myself, took the simpler route, and drew a single flame with the word luz (light) under it, to represent not only the physical light of the biogas flame but more importantly the hope biobolsas offer so many families. Although we all responded to the same question, each drawing was so very different, clearly illustrating the variation among our perspectives. As I shared my simple drawing with team, I felt their affirmation, encouraging me in a subtle but very real way that, just like everyone in the room, I too had something valuable to offer.