The highlight of many cruises is dinner time. It is not necessarily the food you look forward to, but who your table partners, mostly retired couples, may be. There seems to be an uneasy and suspicious aura as two guys from Minnesota and Peace Corps, traveling together on a cruise, are seated at the table.

To break the silence, the first question is indubitably, "Where are you from?". The answer to which is usually enough to get you to the appetizer and engender the sympathy for Minnesotans by those who have retired to warmer climes. Wives are permitted to speak during this part of the meal and reinforce their decision to be living in state governed by air-conditioning and no income taxes. If the couple is from Canada, which half seem to be, they remain mute.

The next totally male question is "What do you do or did?" which usually establishes the male pecking order. But when faced with recently serving in the Peace Corps, anarchy takes hold of the conversation as the established table protocol breaks down. It is the time for the main entree and opens up a deeper level of dialog, wives included.

Two southern couples traveling together show a particular interest in our Peace Corps experience. They stop me a few days later in the dining room and console me for being a hero serving our country in such a dangerous place as "Somolia". I reassure them that I am a hero, but the place is Samoa.

Then there are the four retired school teachers from McAllen, Texas who seem to be in a perpetual state of travel. Cruises too numerous to remember, all 50 states covered, and detailed descriptions of Minnesota unknown even to Minnesotans are part of their journeys with still three of the twelve presidential libraries to see. They usually travel by car, some sleeping while others drive, retelling the same jokes and singing the same songs, not even stopping stopping on Sunday, since church is held in the car. They sing the hymns, but skip the sermon.

Other table conversations cover politics, football, shopping, and comparison of meals on other cruise lines. The talk is gentile and civil at dessert, with everyone aware they are never to meet again ashore.

January 23, 2012

This Thursday, an fellow Samoan Peace Corps Volunteer, John, and I begin our trip from Fort Lauderdale to the various Caribbean ports and Panama Canal aboard the Holland-American ship, Zuiderdam. John is an old U.S. Navy salt with lots of sailing and sailboat experience, but never has gone to the Panama Canal. Me? Well, why not? There may even be some good stories to put on this blog.

Mary, not very comfortable at sea, is going with some friends to celebrate their mutual friend's 60th in Seattle.

January 16, 2012

Today I took a number of foreign exchange students, mostly Muslims, to an MLK event sponsored by the Minneapolis Park Board at Powderhorn Park Community Center, located in one of the most multi-cultural areas of the city. I asked them if they had ever heard of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in their native countries and what they knew about him. I also asked the students to be observant of the attendees and to see who sat with whom at the tables.

All the students had heard of Dr. King in their native countries, many had listened to his "I Have a Dream" speech and were aware of his efforts to help black people. They observed the people at the event were mostly white and that blacks tended to sit together.

The Community Center was filled with people and a free meal of fried chicken, collared greens, corn bread, rolls, rice and beans was served to the hundreds in attendance. The program consisted of an African drummer, hip-hop dancers, a folk singer, an Aztec dance group, a gospel group, and Powderhorn Park's drum corps. The performances were excellent. The only program reference to Dr. King was a question to the audience as to how old Dr. King would be today (83), answered by one older person, and for the entire audience to shout, "Happy Birthday, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr".

After the program I gathered the students to recap the event and give my thoughts on what Dr. King meant to me. I said that Dr. King's achievements were not through political office, but through non-violent means of raising people's awareness of injustices done to others and being able to organize people who shared his vision of inequality.

On my way home, it struck me that MLK Day may have become a chance for some to talk about togetherness, free food, entertainment, or a day off from school to go on a long weekend trip. As for Dr. King's "Dream", it seemed more of a dream than ever before.

January 9, 2012

Ruby Tuesday server, Cari, and bartender, Joshua, presenting two Wink Eyes in West Plains, Missouri

West Plains, Missouri is an Ozark town in the Southeastern part of the state about 10 miles from the Arkansas border. It is the hometown of the author, Daniel Woodrell, who writes country noire novels, the most famous being "Winter's Bone" which was also made into a movie and nominated for four Academy Awards in 2010. I just had to drive there to check out the place, being warned not to look anyone in the eye and stay away from meth labs.

My quest to possibly meet the author, known to be secretive, and interview meth technicans proved to be futile. Equally futile was my quest to meet anyone who knew what "wink eye" described in another West Plain-based novel by Woodrell, "The Death of Sweet Mister I wondered whether anyone in the Ozarks had ever heard of the dish, "wink eye", so I started asking anyone I met.

At the local Ruby Tuesdays I quized the server, who then quized restaurant patrons, bringing a curious bartender and nacent author to the table. No one had ever heard of a wink eye. I described what it was and much to my surprise they later appeared at the table with two wink eyes. They had to go out to a nearby Walgreen's to get the eggs, the restaurant not having any. Now that was service!

Most people refer to the dish of "Wink Eye" as "Egg in the Basket" with a lid or "Toad in the Hole. For anyone wishing to learn more, here is the Wkipedia link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Egg_in_the_basket

Please also check out the bartender and young writer, Joshua's blog at todayisee.blogspot.com .

Samoan Date Line, December 29,2011

Samoan Date Line, December 31,2011

Samoa is skipping December 30th in order to gain one day and one hour. What was to be today suddenly becomes tomorrow, as far as the United States and American Samoa are concerned. This is a result of redrawing of the International Date Line to go to the east of Samoa, in between it and American Samoa 60 miles away.

It was always a tradition for Peace Corps Volunteers to gather at the western most tip of Samoa at the Village of Falealupo on the island of Savaii to be the last to celebrate the New Year and to look across the waters to see tomorrow. Now they will have to go to the Eastern most point of Samoa, which I take to be either Namua Island or the Village of Muliatele to be the first to celebrate the New Year. One thing is for sure, they will celebrate, only a day sooner.

If all this seems confusing, welcome to the customs of Samoa, a very convoluted place.

December 21, 2011

At five o'clock this evening, my bus stopped to pick up students from the local high school. They had stayed late to have sports team pictures taken before the winter recess. The bus sounded like an excited flock of geese as they boarded. Most were Muslims. They slowly surveyed the bus as they determined how they were to divide up and where to sit. The seat next to me was vacant and the last to be taken by a slight Somali girl, complete with head scarf, the seat in front by her heavier Somali scarfed girlfriend and an Afro-American boy whom they both seemed to like.

As the bus travelled toward downtown, they jabbered, joked, and poked each other talking about their friends while grasping their smart phones. The boy was asked if he smoked. To understand the question more clearly, he gave the motion of having a toke. The girls were surprised and said they didn't know he smoked. He said he had been smoking for two years, mostly at home when his mother was away, otherwise she would kill him. He would then go outside to walk off the effects before she returned home.

The girls reaction was more of wanting to know more, rather than judgement. "Aren't you afraid of being caught by the police?", one asked. "No" said the boy. There was a moment of silence as they pondered his answer and what they had just experienced. As the bus neared the transfer station, their talk quickly changed to their connections and how late they would be getting home.

What made me laugh was the universality of the scene. It could have occurred with any group of American young teenagers anywhere, growing up. It made me feel good to know that America's future was going to be in their good dark-skinned hands.

December 14, 2011

One of the famous retailers said that shopping is entertainment. Indeed, it can be entertaining much in the fashion of Las Vegas, where you know you are being had. Shopping can be likened to a game where you seek out that special deal and beat the house. The odds are against you in the long run, but one winner can keep you coming back for more.

The rules of the game are changing. Now everything is on sale. If it red sign doesn't say the price is reduced by at least 30%, you feel riped off. When everything is discounted, how do you find the real deals? My strategy is to find those items which are not discounted, difficult but not impossible.

I can't tell you how good it feels to double check with the cashier that my item was not discounted!

Retailing has gone beyond entertainment to now include dining and exercise in its pantheon of ways to get you into the store. Recently I went to an IKEA store accidentally before it opened. You get free coffee, a real incentive for geezers. In fact I think IKEA, COSTCO, and other big box stores are now the dining experience of choice for a large segment of our country.

The third leg of the Joy of Shopping is exercise. Where else but a mall or a big box store can you feel it in your legs that you have had a workout? The exertion of walking those long aisles in search of that yet to be revealed item can't be duplicated any place else. You are exausted, and hungry. Thank goodness the food counter in near the entrance/exit doors.

People in other parts of the world often misread us. They think we are just a money-hungry, consumption-oriented society that misses the whole point of Christmas. We are more than that, we are a multi-tasking, money-hungry, consumption-oriented society with lots of hyphenated words.

Take that, rest of the world! We may miss the meaning of Christmas, but you miss the Joy of Shopping.

December 13, 2011

Ever since I was a young boy in Detroit, I remember the joy of walking to the library. Before the library was built on Six Mile Road, it was the Bookmobile parked two days a week on Tracy Avenue off of Puritan. Inside on its shelves were adventures and stories I couldn't wait to take home and read. You could only take two books at a time, which only increased my desire to quickly return to that truck parked at the side of the curb.

It is amazing how some books have a telling affect on you. One of those Bookmobile stories I remember is "Misty of Chincoteague". The story still brings tears to my eyes, such is the power of books.

Years and many books have pasted since those Detroit days, but the thrill of walking to the library, taking an unknown book off the shelf, and feeling its weight on the way back has never left me.

December 7, 2011

Ever wonder what happens to those parts of slaughtered animals go, even those orts considered unfit for pet food? You may be interested in the tale of tails.

The Samoan government in an attempt to curb obesity banned the sale of imported turkey tails while at the same time applying for entrance to the World Trade Organization (WTO). In order to have Samoa reopen its market for U.S. turkey tails, the U.S. government held back its approval of Samoa's WTO application. Samoa submitted to U.S. pressure and turkey tails can once again be legally sold in Samoa.

You may argue that Samoans have a choice in the food they can eat, let alone afford. For the average Samoan, your choice of meats in the store usually is canned mackerel, SPAM, canned corned beef, chicken hindquarters, trotters (pigs feet), pigs tails and ears, mutton flaps, or lamb necks. All imported and dumped by "health conscience countries". Yummy!

Below are two articles for those who may have some interest as to what happens in the world under the term "globalization".

http://www.samoaobserver.ws/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=37229:stopping-turkey-tails&catid=1:latest-news&Itemid=50

http://www.stuff.co.nz/business/world/6062457/Samoa-rewarded-for-turkey-tail-turnaround

November 28, 2011

Today is the 70th anniversary of my birth. Other than heralding in the beginning of another possible decade of life, the date lacks the significance of the 5th when you can start school, the 16th when you can get a driver's license, the 18th when you become an adult, the 21st when you can legally buy alcohol, and the 65th when you are officially considered old and when you used to be able to retire and collect your meager pension.

There is something to celebrate about birthdays ending in a zero. You hear from those who have not forgotten you are still alive, or want to know if you are still alive. Their greetings may come in the form of a personalized note, a birthday card which gives a zero birthday an air of importance, Facebook, electronic greeting card, text, phone call, and some show up at your doorstep. Whatever their means to mark the occasion, it makes you feel good.

Yet dates, years, and birthdays soon pass into the ocean of time, unless you do something memorable. The year may be forgotten, but not the event. For me, it is to celebrate my birthday at the local roller rink along with the other 5 year olds, an event even the rink owner and tiny celebrants could not believe was happening. There is something to be said about "zipping" around the rink trying to keep time to "health club" music as you avoid those fallen little shits in your path, and putting the fact behind you that on your 12th birthday you broke your arm with a church group doing the same thing with wheels on your feet. Certain birthdays you and others don't soon forget.

With my son, Nicholas III

The few, the proud, and the brave

November 8, 2011

What makes travel exciting is that you chose to put yourself in a strange and different place. You see and experience a new world, sometimes more uncomfortable or seemingly more exotic than the place you call home. Of course for those who call your destination home, you are the strange and exotic person. For them, your discoveries are their everyday drudgery.

I am discovering a new world to explore. It is as strange and as foreign to me as any of the several places on this earth I have been fortunate to visit. It is the world that exists on the public bus.

Now for many of my ilk and my children, taking the metro in Beijing is more exciting and certainly not as frightening as taking the bus downtown. The choice is clear. Your shiny, protected, comfortable bubble wins out every time. But imagine what may happen if you chose to take the bus. What adventures may be in store for you? Here is my entry for today.

The rush hour bus is nearly full when I get on and search for a place to sit. There is a backpack next to a young chocolat-skinned seemingly immigrant girl sitting next to the window. I ask her if she would would move it so I could sit down. She does. As the bus empties, she crawls over me to sit on a jump seat in front of me with her backpack on her lap.

The young African-American man in the seat behind me is on his cellphone trying to tell people at an insurance company his new Minneapolis address. He has recently moved from Springfield, Illinois. He has to make three calls before he gets to a person who can make the changes so he can be reimbursed for medical expenses incurred in Springfield. He slowly spells his name, making fun of the fact that his parents named him Galvin, rather than Calvin, a source of much confusion as to who he is. He goes on to spell his street, but when it comes to spelling Minneapolis, both parties are stumped. He asks another older passenger if there is an abbreviation. The passenger says, MPLS. I am sure no one outside of Minneapolis and probably only a few who live here have ever heard of that abbreviation. The young man then calls a friend and tells him, he soon should get a check and pay him the owed money. I hope he gets his check. Thank goodness he gave the zip code.

There is a well-dressed Middle Eastern couple asking another passenger if this is the stop for Fairview Hospital (There are several throughout the metro area). The stop is at the center of the University of Minnesota campus. As the bus disgorges most of its passengers, the confused couple joins the crowd and ends up standing alone on the sidewalk not knowing where they are. They remind me of similar incidents during my travels as I find myself standing alone, not knowing where I am or who to turn for directions.

As I walk out of the office building in St Paul, I see the bus I want pull away. An elderly out-of-town couple stops me in their car to ask for directions to the University of Minnesota Hospital. They are miles from the hospital and have been lost for over an hour. Their MapQuest printout is only for the neighborhood around the hospital. I say I am happy to show them the way and hop in their car. Just before they are to turn off to the hospital, I hop out of the car, just in time to catch the same bus I missed miles back.

A tall, big man with Eastern European features struggles to get on with two plastic bags dangling around his neck, pulling a suitcase, and carrying a stuffed garment bag and some other clothes, including a new pair of large, shiny black, three inch elevator shoes. He unwraps himself of his load as he searches his pockets for the fare. He continues standing next to what appears to be his worldly possessions. At his stop, he puts the plastic bags around his neck, gathers his luggage, and leaves. The young petite Asian girl next to me looks at him and then at me. We laugh about why would a 6'4" man need elevator shoes. I remark to her that he probably has quite a story to tell. But after the girl gets off the bus, I wonder about her story.

November 1, 2011

The Great Pumpkin must have been looking out for me. Due to an illness to my Halloween roller skating partner, Nicholas' girlfriend Heidi, I spent the night safely at home, only to be visited by The Little Pumpkin Seed, my grandson Rainn.

October 20, 2011

Being a grandparent is great!

Mary with our new grandson, Rainn.

October 19, 2011

Readjusting after an intense experience like Peace Corps is the pits. One would think that this being my second time, it would be easier, but it’s not. You may think the feeling is due to returning to the “Same-O, Same-O’, but the “Same-O, Same-O” isn’t the same anymore

I like soup. The weather is getting chilly… soup time. To make good soup, you need a soup bone. I have been to four supermarkets filled with every meat cut you might think to serve, but nary a soup bone. Most of the meat comes to the store, either prepackaged or butchered in some Iowa or Nebraska meat processing plant. Modern supermarket butchers now are stock boys with funny paper hats. There are marrow bones for dogs, but no soup bones for humans.

This is what I mean by the difficulty of readjusting. When you are away, everything is new and exciting. When you return, all is new, except you.

September 8-21, 2011

Introduction

Why, you ask, The Gambia in West Africa during the rainy season or what Africans call the “Starving Season? It is a hot, humid, dirty, mosquito infested place inhabited by natives and Peace Corps Volunteers. When you combine one former Peace Corps Volunteer Samoa from Duluth, Minnesota who has a lot of frequent flyer miles which are about to expire with another former Peace Corps Volunteer Samoa, now serving in The Gambia, with still another former Peace Corps Volunteer Samoa whose husband just got back from Samoa, you have the ingredients for adventure. Senegal enters the picture because not only does it surround The Gambia on three sides, but has a real city, Dakar, which can be reached by air from the United States.

Warning: This blog does not necessary follow in any logical or chronological order. In other words, it reflects real life.

The Participants

Hanna Siemering: Hostess, current Gambian Peace Corps Volunteer (2011-2013) as a Public Health instructor at Gambia’s university, former Samoan PCV (2007-2010), retired veterinarian, sailor with seaside property in Maryland and plans for a house.

John Kleive: Former Samoan PCV (2007-2010), welding instructor in Samoa (2010-2011), retired school teacher, welding supply representative, and welder who lives on a boat at a Superior, Wisconsin marina during summers, a house in the Ely woods, and seeks warmer weather on his Harley during the winter months.

Sandy Nelson: John’s friend, world traveler, hospice worker, assisting John’s daughter during her prolonged illness, and lives off the main road in Northern Wisconsin.

Mary Shuraleff: Former Samoan PCV (2007-2008) and my supportive wife.

Nick Shuraleff: Enough said about him.

Dakar,Senegal

This West African country is French speaking and Muslim. Dakar, its capitol, is at the Western most tip of Africa with about 1.5 million people. The city seems to be in a half-built, rubble-filled, suspended state awaiting more foreign aid. There is really nothing beautiful about the place, except the stylish women. If Dakar is known for anything, it is the nightclubs which open at midnight and whose original music is really great. Other than that, the only noise is from the short beep from 1.5 million passing taxis and the Call to Prayers.

My favorite place in Dakar is probably the least favorite site in all of Senegal, The African Renaissance Monument, which dominates the skyline and shoreline of the city. Unveiled April 3, 2010 amidst the slums and garbage helps of land near the airport, it is the tallest statue in the world with an estimated life expectancy of 1,200 years. Invented and designed by Senegal’s president, it cost the country no money, but an exchange of land, to the North Koreans who funded and built the monolith. From what I could gather, President Maitre Abdolaye Wade is the only person enamored with the financial deal, stating revenues from admissions could generate billions (I was the only fee-paying tourist during my visit.

The statue represents Africa emerging from the extinct volcano of slavery and foreign domination, reconquering its place in the world. Few Africans identify themselves with the figures or the family portrayed. The child points to the Northwest which is towards North Korea, if you overlook all of North America. Muslims wonder whether the God-like representation conflict with Islamic beliefs and may be used as a deity. I love the views and sheer gall of the monument.

As a side note, the first model of the statue, by a very well-known, but unnamed, Hungarian sculpture, did not correspond to the president’s vision and became a gift for President Bush during his visit to Senegal two days later.

Symbol of African Renaissance

Monument as seen from nearby slums

View of Dakar from the monument's head.

A five ton baby head

Goree Island is the tourist must. Just a short ferry ride from the main harbor it can be likened to The French Quarter with artists, restaurants, museums, weird characters, and a little violent history thrown in for spice. There is never a dull moment as vendors constantly pester and vie for your attention, making a cold beer that much more refreshing. A 30 minute ferry ride with vendors already pecking at your carcass.

Dakar skyline behind Mary and Hanna

School children at the 1776 Dutch building, "House of Slaves"

World War One French coastal gun

John Kleive trying to escape from female vendors.

Hotel du Phare in the Ouakam area of Dakar is our hotel and used to be a favorite place for Peace Corps visiting the city. It is small European-style hotel at the end of a runway at Dakar airport, making it ideal for embarkation and debarkation. Since a couple of months ago when the old Frenchman died and his son with his young French wife took over running the business, rates have increased. The hotel does have quaintness about it, being off the main road on a sandy side, rubble filled side-street. An air-conditioned room, large generator, edible French cooking, cold beer, and attractive help make you aware you are not in Kansas anymore.

Street to Hotel du Phare

With Fatima, hotel clerk.

Senegalese women are said to spend a fortune on their appearance.

The Gambia

The Gambia is the smallest, Muslim, one of the poorest and most densely populated country in Africa. It is known as being a British outpost trying to curb the sale of Africans by Africans to Europeans in early 1800’s. Now its beach side resorts are a destination for Europeans. Sex tourism flourishes, but with a different twist. Men, known as “Bumsters” (gigolos), show their virility on the beaches during the day as they seek business with middle-aged white women looking for a change of pace. Night is when the female prostitutes emerge. Even an old man with his wife is fair game.

Subsistence is the life people lead. Some grow rice and peanuts, while others struggle to feed their families with menial service jobs. All including the government seek handouts from others. The Indians and Chinese are the latest to seek the favor of The Gambia.

Gambians are a smiling, colorful, skinny, and gregarious lot. What they may lack in wealth they more than make up for in attitude. Being English speaking helps as they express their view of life and the outside world to whomever cares to sit down and drink tea (aataya) with them. Maybe their subdued behavior is somehow related to the many roadblocks one encounters on the highway and the walled compounds in which they reside. Law and order does prevail here. Joking is part of their nature with the greatest responses being about the number of wives you have or hope to get.

The food, well there really isn’t much to talk about. The stables are rice, peanuts, and cassava with a little bit of fish or beef thrown in for protein, if available. Unlike Samoa where everyone seems to be eating at all times, they hardly eat at all. I am glad we had a chance to eat the local fare, but the cuisine certainly is no reason to fly across the ocean for it. Hanna Siemering, our hostess, who planned it all, in her Gambian house

Peace Corps in The Gambia

The offices

Peace Corps Headquarters, GambiaI was forbidden to take a picture of this guarded, gated building housing Peace Corps offices. However inside the building, the computer room, offices, and staff seemed the same as in Samoa, dealing with the same Peace Corps related problems. It also served as the best place to exchange dollars into local currency.

The main street by Peace Corps office.

The Volunteers

Staying in the large, guarded, gated, hostel-like Peace Corps "transit house" for four nights is a great place to rub elbows with others. The Peace Corps now charges a small fee for staying there with a four-night limit. With one of the bedrooms air-conditioned and crowded, and a hired caretaker makes this place the best deal in town. The volunteers are an assortment of people coming in for scheduled meetings, medical and psychological issues, leaving early, and their village to eat a hamburger or pizza.

Of course, the volunteers want to compare degrees of Peace Corps suffering. They are surprised to learn suffering also occurs in Samoa, "The Jewel of the Pacific". My take is that Samoan Peace Corps suffer more psychologically, while Gambia may have the edge physically. One thing is Samoa has The Gambia beat for beauty, hands down!

There are about 80 Peace Corps in The Gambia and the Peace Corps seems to be better recognized by Gambians for their efforts in education, health, and agriculture, as well as being from the United States, than in Samoa. I may be mistaken about this, since Gambians are more talkative and open, speak better English, and get more exposure to America than Samoans. They rotate into country twice a year.

Kelsey, a married Peace Corps serving with her husband. Both have assigned jobs.

Dave is a Peace Corps who has extended for a third year and works in an NGO apiary. Beekeeping and honey are important products in The Gambia. His enthusiasm is hard to conceal, as we tour his domain and learn about the life of bees. He tells us of the beautiful spitting cobra he saw two days before which blinded a dog. The bees seem tamer. I am more than a little jealous of his success with bees after my failed beekeeping experience in Samoa.A Gambian lunch with British ex-patriots Jan, Mick, and their son who live in the bush at the apiary. The meal is domada, a peanut based sauce with cassava over rice. (Rice is served with every meal).

Daily Life

The Regional Hospital, Birkama

Clinics and programs such as this are one of the reasons why infant mortality and death during childbirth are dropping. Mothers dress up and bring their babies to be weighed and vaccinated monthly. They are responsible for their own record card. Breast feeding is common and efforts to reduce malnutrition seem to be making headway. The women are encouraged to give birth in the hospital or at home with a trained mid-wife who can call for medical assistance if needed.

Malaria affects 80% of the population. Much of the problem is due to increases in rice growing and ranching, both of which produce spawning grounds for mosquitoes.

Diabetes is also on the increase and is becoming a major health concern. Just why escapes me for these are the thinnest people I have ever seen!

Weighing babies

Vaccinations given by Gambian Public Health employee

Markets

Village markets are a hub of activity with organized stalls, buses, taxis, smells, and flies all adding to the shopping experience. Like Samoa, small family-owned stores keep popping up along the roadside to supply everyday needs. The better stores, restaurants, and supermarkets are owned and run by Arabs, mostly Lebanese.

Please forgive the absence of craft-shop photos. I just couldn't do it.

Market in Birkama

Fishing

African picture books invariably have pictures of the colorful fishing boats. The local boats fish a few miles off shore with nets and all return about five o'clock to sell their catch. Boys with tubs swim out to the boats before they beach, wanting to have their tub filled with fish. They then take the tub to the market to be sorted and weighed. From afar it seems like a chaotic scramble, much like a New York street may seem to them. Somehow it all works out.

Scene at Bakau

Brewing Aataya

More than a very sweet tea, brewing and drinking Aataya is a ritual done mostly by men. The process is purposely slow, for being with your friends should not be rushed.

Elijah, who lives on Hanna's compound, making aataya. Note: red small teapot on charcoal stove, blue water pitcher, small stand with two glasses, all essential to the elaborate poring to produce a foamy, strong drink. The tea grounds are re-brewed two more times.

Flora and Fauna

If you want to see wildlife, don't go to The Gambia. The forests have long been cut for pasture and cultivation; the wildlife eaten. However, there are a few Reserves and National Parks to bring back some of the lost plants and animals.

Abuko Nature Reserve

Under the strangling fig

Flower with two types of blossoms

Bijilo Forest "Monkey" Park

Green monkey with baby

Gambia River National Park

Getting to and visiting this park is worth the effort located in the middle of the country. The major attraction are the chimpanzees collected originally as unwanted pets and located on islands in the river where they thrive and are studied (Chimps can't swim).

Children watching us depart from Kuntaur, hoping to get empty plastic water bottles for toys.

Girl in pink, a real bully.

Our transportation to and at the parkBackwater scene

Approaching our lodgeRiver scene from lodgeLodge dining and resting area

Safari tent for sleeping. Beds are great. Outdoor showers, simply heaven. Pit toilets for star gazing. Best sleeping ever.Mary with her ever-present Samoan fan.

We feel the Samoan fan moves more air with less effort than Gambian styles, a tribute to the Samoan way of lfe.

See the Chimps

See the hippos

Find the Green Mamba snake

The Good Life

Please don't think The Gambia is all mosquitoes, flies, sand, heat, humidity and vendors. There are beautiful beaches and hotels too.

Leybato Beach Resort

Good food, reasonable prices. Short walk from Peace Corps transfer house.

Beautiful beach with a Bumster for everyone.

(I did pushups with one of them on the beach to deflate his bravado and increase mine)

Coco Ocean Resort

This five star hotel is where those traveling on a government or NGO expense account stay. Since this is the off season, rates are lower, at least before the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation bought out the place for a Cashew Convention. Alas as Hanna, Mary, and I sit dejected in the lobby unable to negotiate a lower and affordable rate, a kindly man hears as we bemoan our financial situation, our new dislike for cashew nuts, and the thought of spending another night at the Peace Corps transit house. He asks if we are Peace Corps. He makes us a deal we can't refuse in a villa we never could have dreamed and drives us to the villa with its own restricted swimming pool. He is the owner, as employees look on in disbelief as what he is doing. We even have enough money to eat in the hotel restaurants!

Built like a Moroccan Palace, Coco Ocean from the sea.

Ah, this is the way Peace Corps should be

Our veranda

So many spa treatments to chose.

Mary had a chocolate scrub. Hanna, hair and nails.

They spent hours deciding.

Our room

The Compleato

I just have to have one. The compleato (complete) is worn by Muslim men to cover the entire body. I must admit the tailor did question my choice of fabric, but then again he did not know his work is also my new Halloween costume to be worn with roller skates, a blue bike helmet, and a 1952 "Ike and Dick" campaign button.

September 4, 2011

Dance Instruction

To get ready for the first dance, a Samoan one, at the wedding reception a little instruction and practice was needed. Ladies went with Hannah who instructed the ladies on Samoan movements and how women are to be aloof, teasing them, but “not really” to notice the wild movements and yelling of the half-naked men gesticulating around them. Meanwhile Jay instructed the men that they were to be like roosters, crowing about and puffing out their feathers in hopes of attracting a hen or two.

More activities

Rugby

Softball

Jogging

The Wedding Ceremony

One of the reasons Jay and Hannah picked this camp was the hillside site high above a West Virginia lake where they would exchange their vows. As luck would have it, minutes before the ceremony was to begin, it began to rain. Hannah had a backup plan to have the ceremony in the same building as the reception. This proved to save the day; not as picturesque, but certainly drier. I had the honor to act as “officiate” for the ceremony, being both part Rabbi, representing Hannah’s side of the family, and part Faifea’u, Samoan minister, for Jay’s part of the family. The ceremony was conducted under a Huppah, ending with Jay stomping on a glass while everyone yells “Mazel Tov!”

The Huppah, messages were written to the couple on the cloth quilt

The wedding party is coming

Taking their vows

"Although I have no power vested in me, I now pronouce you man and wife"

Exiting processional

The Reception

At the reception there were toasts from the Maid of Honor, Kate Everett, Best Man, Sonny (Jay’s Samoan cousin from Seattle) along with the Mother and Father of the Bride. The fun started with the first dance as Hannah performed her graceful moves while Jay did his Samoan male part of wildly dancing around her. Then the others joined with a wild passion, not even hoped for during practice earlier in the day. We were all Samoans. The party had begun.

Note: Due to the unwritten rules of Peace Corps Volunteers many parts of the reception have been excluded.

Wedding cake top with cup cakes of sea colored frosting and tropical ingredients

Bride and Groom starting First Dance

Group 78 attendees

Front: Kate Everett, Mary Shuraleff, Hannah Goldman, Christian Heath, Erin Jenkins

Rear: Jacob Burney, Nick Shuraleff, Donna Barr, Justin Newnum

Peace Corps attendees

Front: Cale and Sara Reeves, Laura Hanks, Kate Everett, Hannah Goldman,Sally Briggs,Erin Jenkins, Eric Geer

Rear: Nick Shuraleff, Megan Veltrie, Jacob Burney, Donna Barr, Justin Newnum, Christian Heath, Stephanie Hue

Script of Wedding Ceremony (Written by Hannah and Jay)

Processional

Huppah with Uncle Steve, Mom, Dad, and Donna (due to illness did not hold Huppah)

Nick

6 members of the wedding party one at a time

Leiga

Hannah

Hannah circles Jay 3 times

Introduction

Nick: Beloved family of friends, we are gathered on this beautiful hillside to celebrate the marriage of Hannah and Jay. This is a joyous occasion when we get to witness the joining of two lives and two unique families. Jay and Hannah are dedicating their lives to each other and embarking on a lifelong adventure that will be exhilarating, enlightening and challenging. Fortunately, they have already shown they have all the tools needed for this journey: patience, mutual respect and the ability to find joy in every day. They will use these tools to face together whatever life throws their way, be it good times or hard times. To symbolize the sweetness of a life shared by loving spouses, Jay and Hannah will share a cup of wine.

Prayer over the wine by Jay

Jay: Baruch atah adonai elohainu melech haolam, borei pre hagafen.

Jay offers sip to Hannah, then Hannah offers sip to Jay

Nick's comments on couple

Introduction to vows

Nick: Marriage is a lifelong commitment to be celebrated, yet taken with care and reflection. A bride and groom speak aloud their promises to each other during their vows and will from then on, wear a reminder of those vows on their ring finger. Before Jay and Hannah make those vows, they have asked that you bless their union and their rings by warming them with your well wishes and your hands. When a ring reaches you please hold it just for a moment, and take the opportunity to make a silent wish or prayer for the couple. Then pass the ring on to the next person so that when returned, the rings are all the more precious for containing your love and support for their union.

Ring Warming

Vows/Rings (Each line is repeated by Hannah or Jay, Hannah first)

Nick: Please repeat after me

I, Hannah/Jay

Take you Jay/Hannah

To be my beloved husband/wife

To love and to cherish

To respect and to protect

All the days of my life

For richer and for poorer

In sickness and in health

And in all the times in between

I promise

To never stop laughing, singing or dancing

To always sleep naked

And to always be your equal and loving partner

Take this ring as a symbol of my everlasting love and devotion

Nick: Although I have no power vested in me by anyone, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Jay, you may kiss your bride! (Kiss)

Jay smashes glass and everyone yells “Mazel Tov!”

Recessional (bride and groom first)

September 3, 2011

Prologue

Leiga (Jay) and Hannah at my Samoan house (2009)

Hannah Goldman was a Peace Corps with Mary and my Peace Corps Group 78. At our Samoan training village of Manunu, Hannah saw Leiga (Jay) Iamanu as he performed on Sunday with the village’s church youth group in June, 2007. Attracted by Jay’s winning smile, and dance moves, Hannah wanted to meet him. As fate would have it, Jay likewise spotted Hannah as a person he would like to meet. Since Jay was living with the church’s pastor and “dating” even among Samoans is still in the developmental stage it took a kind fairy in the form of Peace Corps Volunteer, Donna Barr, who was also living with the pastor to suggest they meet. They did, and the rest was history

Mary and I were met at Dulles Airport by another Peace Corps from our Group 78, Christian Heath, who had arrived a few hours earlier from Vietnam, flying through two sunrises to make it to the wedding on time. Jacob Burny, also from Group 78, picked us up as we headed to the hills of West Virginia, guided by Rachel, Jacob’s GPS friend.

The Wedding Venue

Jay and Hannah live in Pittsburgh, but the wedding took place at the summer camp, Camp Tall Timbers, in High View, West Virginia. The entire camp with all its facilities was needed to house and entertain the approximately 80 guests from around the country. As you might expect, a bell was rung to announce planned activities blocks. Sleeping arrangements were in cabins, meals of good, hearty summer camp style food.

Activities

Frisbee football

Fun in the pool Eric Geer trying for a 10 score belly flop

Sara Reeves with her much better camera than mine

Evening Program

The highlight of the evening program was a CD made of Jay’s family members in Samoa as each wished their son, brother, or relative best wishes and blessings from God along with invitation to bring his new wife back to their Samoan home. Even though everyone spoke in Samoan, the tears in their eyes spoke a language all could understand. The CD arrived the day before and Jay had not seen it before. Jay and Hannah talking about how they met and translating his family's messages

Handing out gifts to wedding party

Peace Corps Attendees

Kate Everett, Donna Barr, Erin Jenkins, Justin and Anna Newnum, Jacob Burney, Christian Heath, Nick and Mary Shuraleff, Stephanie Hsu, Eric and Mrs. Geer, Laura Hanks and friend, Roco?, Meghan Veltri, Sara and Cale Reeves

September 1, 2011

Clear Extra Virgin Organic Coconut Oil as it usually appears in Samoa

Same oil undergoing flocculation in Minnesota

Extra virgin organic coconut oil is the main economic venture promoted by the NGO, Women in Business Development(WIBD), with whom I was associated during my Health Challenge project in Samoa. The oil is wonderful stuff used by Samoans for body massages and hair oil, some others for cooking, and exported to the Body Shop in the U.K. to make cosmetics. When the bottles of coconut oil I brought back turned from a crystal clear liquid to a white solid, I began to wonder why. This could be a serious problem.

A clue to the puzzle is on the label of a coconut massage oil I brought back from Samoa in 2009. It states the oil turns solid under 72 degrees F. It is also the reason why this massage oil has never been used by me in Minnesota and why my clear oil turned to a solid. These are conditions never experienced in Samoa.

My emails to WIBD about my observations have so not been replied. This may give you some idea of the conditions I experienced in Samoa.

August 30, 2011

To most people it looks like a stick of wood, actually it is a root.

To Departments of Agriculture it may contain destructive insects in its which must be properly wrapped and certified pest-free before leaving Samoa.

To Customs Officials it is a drug (Piper methysicum, intoxicating pepper).

To missionaries it leads to sin and degradation.

To airline baggage handlers it is a pain in the butt.

To Samoans it is an important symbol of the Ava God, as the Peace Pipe is to American Indians.

To me it is one of the most important gifts I received in Samoa.

To the Chinese it is money worth trying to steal.

I really don't know the history behind this kava stick I was given by the village high chief during a kava ceremony welcoming me to the Village of Tufulele before a health training session I was part of with the Ministry of Education, Sports, and Culture. I do know being offered the first cup of ava at the Ava ceremony means you are the honored person, or I have never seen one of the three sticks ever given to anyone else, or the fact that some of the ceremony was done in English for my benefit rather than in the highly formal spoken at village councils that even most Samoans do not understand. This is a very important piece of cellulose containing some great alkaloids.

So at the Honolulu airport baggage claim after customs, I set the kava stick against the wall along side of my luggage. A few moments later I see my stick moving off into the distance being carried by a well-dressed middle-aged Chinese woman. I ran after the thief as she scampered away, grabbing the stick out of her hand. "What the hell?", I said to her. Since she probably did not speak English and I was too dumbfounded to say more, I just stood there in a dazed state as she disappeared into the crowd.

Only a few billion people in the world understand the importance and significance of kava/ava, a few South Pacific islanders, China, and some Peace Corps. As for my kava stick, it needs to find a prominent spot in my Minneapolis house where it may hang until someone throws it into the fireplace some cold winter's night and unexpectedly feels a sense of euphoria known to others for centuries.

August 25, 2011

Was it worth it? I mean leaving my family to return to Samoa as a Peace Corps Response Volunteer.

For me, yes. For others, I guess you have to ask them.

What I wanted to do more than anything else was to significantly impact the way Samoans relate weight to health. Obesity is the “Elephant in the room”. It is so big as to be almost unrecognizable by those in the room and seemingly too big to tame. Yet, obesity is the reason why so many Samoans suffer from its effects of diabetes, hypertension, sleep disorders, gout, and joint problems. It saps the strength of this tiny and once vigorous nation.

Call it a gimmick or a stroke of understanding, but 5,000 pink vinyl wristbands, a Samoan BMI chart, and Biblical verses served as my entry into the Samoan mind. They served to demonstrate how a simple program, offering a simple message, and being demonstrated in a simple, yet Samoan way, can affect people’s behavior. The monster could be tackled, only if the “man in the mirror” cares to recognize the problem as his own.

It is now time to collect and analyze the data. A concluding report needs to be written and hopefully read. The data and report cannot convey the feeling of a woman who is having sex again or a person who feels better because a wristband can be slipped off a once chubby hand, or people walking, or drinking water, or taking the salt container off the table. Samoans, like anyone else in the world, want to look, feel, and be better.

What is next for me?

For the Peace Corps there is a report on ways volunteer teachers can provide some health education for children, parents, and teachers where none exists today, and to see if an organization would sponsor another Peace Corps Response Volunteer.

For my nascent efforts with the Ministry of Education, Sports, and Culture, their Sports for Development program and the Australian Sports Authority who are sponsoring that program, I have a sense of a continued relationship in the months ahead. Their combined resources are what are needed to affect real change.

Finally, it is off to a West Virginia mountain top camp, along with others who served with Mary and me, over Labor Day weekend to attend the wedding of Hannah Goldman and her Samoan fiancé, Jay. Then there is a trip to The Gambia in Africa next month to visit another Peace Corps Volunteer.

My Peace Corps luggage tag reads, “Life is calling. How far will you go?”

I wish I knew the answer.

I do know how lucky I am to have the opportunity to apply what few skills I possess and to have an understanding, supportive family.

Now it is time to start my 48 hour journey back home to those whom I love.

August 24, 2011

Dale Withington is the Peace Corps Country Director in Samoa. He is also a former Peace Corps Volunteer in the Philippines and Country Director of Peace Corps in Micronesia. Probably his most noteworthy achievement is to marry, Lucy, whom he met while living in Indonesia. Besides being beautiful, Lucy is a great cook, and I love Indonesian food.

For my last dinner in Samoa, Dale invited me to join his other guests for one of Lucy’s “little meals”.

Dale Withington. Lucy, and family.

Lucy's meal.

August 22, 2011

The Nick and Mary I am talking about are the two children named after us. It is I who is saying the goodbye.

Sister Losa, nun and Kapeli's sister; Easter, Kapeli's daughter with her children, Malia and Nicholas at their new house in Moamoa, Apia.

August 21, 2011

It is hard to describe the inclusiveness of a Samoan family. A Samoan family is like a magnet pulling others into its arms and embracing them whether you want to be or not. Once within this field you are one of them forever. To visit is a misnomer because it is more of a reuniting. Such is my stay on my last weekend in Samoa after having to text them of having to return to Apia for missing wristbands and cutting my stay from two to one night.

There is no such thing as one family picture for the family is an ever changing kaleidoscope of those within its grasp.

Falani, son. with cousin, Tui, preparing Number 2 size pig for the umu, Samoan pit oven.

Manuli, daughter; Lucia, daughter; me; Saloti, wife; Kapeli, husband wearing St. Patrick's Day shamrocks on head which I brought and everyone wore; and little Lawrence, the baby Mary used to hold.

Tali, daughter; big Lawrence; Fa'apisa Sr., Lawrence's wife and sister of Kapeli, Fa'aputa, son; Manuli, daughter. Front row: little Lawrence with assorted cousins.

Lawrence Sr and wife, Fa'apisa, used to live in Hawaii and now are building a house at this site on the Kapeli family plantation. Lawrence Sr., never happier.

Back row: Salafai, son of Ime and Tupe; Manuli, Tali, and Taitaia, daughters. Middle row: Tui, son of Ime and Tupe; Fa'apisa, youngest child and daughter; Fa'apiano, daughter of Ime and Tupe. Front: Saloti, Kapeli's wife; Kapeli; Fa'apisa, Kapeli's sister; Ime, Kapeli's sister; Tupe, Ime's husband.

The family had prepared a concert for me in their open Samoan house. Since it was Sunday evening, they had to sing softly.

August 20, 2011

Ben Harding is a volunteer from my original Peace Corps Group 78 who married to a Samoan beauty and is staying on living with her family at his Peace Corps village on Savaii. Ben and I share a passion for gardening. Ben is more serious and successful than I ever could be.

Ben Harding and his garden

Ben's special variety of Bok Choy, Chinese Cabbage, grown for more seeds.

August 20, 2011

Nothing is ever stolen in Samoa, things just go missing.

The next morning after the Rock da Boat experience, I take the ferry to deliver awards to some of the volunteers on the island of Savaii who did not make trip into Apia, to spend the next two nights with my old host family in the Village of Iva, and specifically to have a rare Sunday meeting with the head nurse at the hospital on Savaii to deliver 120 wristbands for the island’s hospital staff.

When what to my panicky eyes should appear at the farthest point of Savaii is my car sans wristbands. The wristbands are the reason for my trip.

The missing wristbands can only be at one of the following: the Peace Corps office, the Maona Blue Restaurant, or my house, all of which are in Apia, a long and ferry ride away.

I have to admit to driving slightly above the 25 mph Samoan speed limit to reach the last ferry of the day three minutes before it leaves the wharf.

No wristbands at the Peace Corps office in Apia.

Next, the floating restaurant where the employees proudly show me their wristbands of which I have no recollection of giving them. An empty wristband box under a table is an indication I may be on to something. Upon further inquiry wristbands emerge from deep within a drawer behind the bar, and my surgical scissors from the manager’s purse. Everyone is happy.

Early the following Sunday morning, it is back to the ferry and Savaii to continue my trip minus an unknown number of pink wristbands.

August 19, 2011

One of the nagging issues with being a Peace Corps Volunteer is not to be recognized for your service. No one seems to care or notice the fact you are in some remote, dirty school, trying your best to teach children English so they can get a job later in life.

Being in sympathy with their plight and having reallocated my Health Challenge Grant, I held a Recognition Dinner on a floating restaurant in Apia harbor, Maona Blue, followed by a harbor “Rock da Boat” cruise. Also all 30+ participating Health Challenge volunteers received a hand sewn gift made by the beloved Peace Corps nurse, Teuila Pati.

Below are some pictures of the event:

Dinner aboard the "Maona Blue" floating restaurant

Chelsea Kovacs, Lilly Watson, and Rachel Goldstein

A Vailima bottle, Chelsea, Rachel, and Matt Kaplan

Chris Rocchio with Clint, a pharmacist at the National Hospital

and supplier of my diabetes testing equipment.

Rivka Rocchio, Olivia Hanson. Kate Klane, Rachel Camp, and Mike Jeter

Jenny McCracken, Dan Butterfoss, Mike Aboraand, and Kalien O'Connell

Alberta Malielegaoi, the Prime Minister's daughter, and me

Robert Gonzales Kareoke with Jenny Sutherland and Rachel Camp

Da Boys on Da Boat

Mike Jeter, Chris Rocchio, and Devon Childress

August 17, 2011

It had to happen, the last primary school to be tested and receive wristbands.This one is in the Village of Falefa. The Peace Corps Volunteer teacher is Samantha Maranell from Wascea, Minnesota.

Many schools have a day where teachers all wear the same outfit. This outfit is one of my favorites. In the middle is the school principle. Two down from her left is the he/she teacher appropriately dressed in a different outfit. You have got to love Samoa!

Falefa children wristbandized.

August 13, 2011

Guessing the number of Samoans you can fit into a bus is more difficult than guessing the jelly beans in a jar. Here is the calculus.

The average adult Samoan weighs 210 pounds, not including baggage. The bus has a listed capacity of 33 persons. Everyone by law must be seated. Children or an adult sitting on a lap is permissible.

Common sense prevails in a tightly packed bus which needs to travel a couple of hours; nothing can move or fall to be injured. The law then begins to break down, as no one is ever denied a ride. The police are there to help squeeze one more person on board.

August 13, 2011

When Divine Intervention happens, you should not question the how or why. Here is my D.I. story.

While rushing to catch the ferry back to the island of Upolu and being hungry because there was no power at the Sekia Pizza stand on the north side of the island, I heard a strange knocking sound coming from my rental car’s engine. I pull into a parking spot in front of a Salelologo store where there is usually a person selling barbeque something. No barbeque, but also no starting of my car.

A panic begins to settle in as my ferry is at the dock and waits for no man. I mentally start to run down the list of possible problems. Battery, no. Gas, no. Must be under the hood. But as I emerge from the car, a man is already lifting the hood. He checks the oil. No oil. The radiator. No water. My God, this is serious. Father’s Day weekend in Samoa is like Christmas Day in the U.S. You may not get help until after New Year’s.

The man tells me the store sells oil as he sends a boy to get water for the radiator. He confidently adds oil and water, turning the engine with each addition to insure proper lubrication and cooling.

Who could this man be? I ask him his name and tell him mine.

“I know”, he says as he puffs on his cigarette, “you lived with the Kapeli family in Iva. I am the acolyte at the Catholic Church in Saleavalu.”

“I didn’t recognize you without your robes”, I humbly say, swallowing hard.

Such is Samoa, a small island country touched by the Hand of God.

P.S. The car seems to be running fine. Hope it lasts for the next ten days.

August 12, 2011

Samoans relate exercise to health. In fact next to prayer, exercise is the elixir for a long life. When I mention a “health program”, Samoans immediately think it is an exercise/dance program; the idea of what or how much you eat just isn’t even a passing possibility. There is little wonder that the millions spent on loudspeaker systems and “exercise” programs has done next to nothing in combatting the tsunami of diabetes and hypertension.

One can hardly accuse Samoans for their health situation when even their government refuses to acknowledge what all their leaders are, obese. Yet despite all obstacles, Samoans are extremely interested in their health and will get up early in the morning or afternoon to do what they have been told makes them healthy, size or diet never being mentioned.

The following video shows an exercise session in the Village of Patemea, on Savaii. Normally there are about 30 women who participate, but this Friday afternoon before the major holiday of Father’s Day, only a few showed up for exercise. Later after I joined the dance group, it became apparent they could be weighed, showed where they stood on a BMI chart, and receive a bottle of honey, the numbers grew.

August 12, 2011

Here are some more photos of Peace Corps teachers helping in the screening for diabetes and hypertension while trying to inform the citizenry about BMI and the relationship between weight and health while distributing flyers and wristbands to school children.

Olivia Hanson

Jenny Sutherland

August 11, 2011

Rachel Goldstein is a rural primary school Peace Corps teacher. Whenever I have the opportunity, I try to show these volunteers my and their government’s appreciation by taking them out to dinner after a day of testing. This time I had the honor of having Rachel Goldstein join me for dinner at Stevenson’s Resort in Manase.

Of course Rachel is lovely standing before the gigantic carved mural. The mural depicts a Samoan legend, dear to all Samoans, of how the coconut, Samoa’s most important food, came to this island in the middle of the Pacific. But what is fascinating, besides Rachel, are the words above the mural. In English, it is “Sina and the eel”; in Samoan, it is, “Sina ma lana tuna.”

The Samoan language has gender neutral pronouns. You intuitively add the gender possession to the sentence’s subject. Back to Sina.

The translation from Samoan to English should be, “Sina and her eel”, tuna being the Samoan word for eel, lana the pronoun. As every Samoan knows, the legend is a very sexual one, as the tuna seduces Sina. “The” instead of “her” completely changes the whole relationship of the legend, changing the mural from a deeply significant relationship, full of questions for the unknowing, into an interesting carving of a girl and an eel.

“Sina and her eel” typify the problem of understanding between peoples and cultures. What sounds like bombastic rhetoric when translated from another language to English, may be nothing more than flowery poetic words or visa versa. We may never know the meaning and the exact translation may be impossible; yet we must try.

Living in amidst a different culture is like “Sina and the (her) eel”. It is a constant struggle of getting through each day, thinking you know what is happening, but really being totally clueless. At the end of the day, you collapse from the exhaustion of simply coping. Of course, there is a solution of simply killing them all, but that is job for the other “Corps”.

August 7, 2011

When I look back on these past months and weeks, I feel they have been more of a learning process in attempting to find ways to better Samoan’s health and lives. Here are a few of my thoughts.

Ignorance is Not Bless

There is almost no attempt by schools and health departments to educate Samoan adults and children about the effects of obesity. Simply weighing people and determining what color on a Samoan BMI chart (red being obese, yellow overweight, green normal) raises their attention level and concern. Providing easy-to-read health tips gives some information they can use to reduce weight. The National Health Service does screen rural villages, but unless they are critically ill, which many of the elderly are, they receive no preventative medical information. The schools likewise have no consistent health program for students or parents. When authority figures from the Prime Minister and other governmental ministers, to nurses, to teachers, to village mati, to ministers are among the most obese, it is understandable of their reluctance to tackle the subject. But, tackle it they must, if they are to serve the citizenry. It is not that Samoans think being obese is beautiful or their fate; it is they simply don’t know how to prevent obesity and its consequences.

Role of Peace Corps

All Peace Corps Volunteers in Samoa are now teachers of ESL in rural primary schools with a secondary mission of community health. The school is their world and any health program needs to have as its base, the school. When teachers are screened or find out what color they are on the BMI chart, obesity becomes a personal subject affecting them. They realize their role in teaching youngsters about obesity is also their role of parent and spouse. The teachers get the message making it easier for the Peace Corps Volunteer to conduct health education, not only in the school, but bringing them in contact with the wider community. The Peace Corps experience becomes more rewarding.

The Bible

Samoans may not understand Western concepts of BMI ratios, nutrition, calories, vitamins, cholesterol, etc., but they do understand that what is said in the Holy Bible is an indisputable fact. Fortunately, the Bible has passages on taking care of “God’s body” and the sins of overindulgence and gluttony. The Bible is how to be understood in Samoan.

The Message

The concepts of obesity and resultant diabetes, hypertension, and joint problems are difficult for anyone to comprehend, let alone change life-long which are the leading causes. The message needs to address the major causes in a language which is understood and is doable. Since the causes of obesity are many and varied, one needs to choose the message and cause carefully. Water and salt are messages I find easily understood and doable.

Water: Samoans drink very little of it. The water they do consume is sweetened in the form of koko Samoa, tea, and soft drinks. The amount of sugar consumed in a day by the average Samoan can range from 10-100 tablespoons of sugar a day. Samoans start heaping tablespoons of it when they get up and throughout the day, ending just before going to sleep. Sugar is probably the single biggest expense any family spends on food. How this habit started, I don’t know, but I do know a lot of what they drink is because they are thirsty. Their body’s grave water, their taste buds trained on sugar.

My message is “Water comes from God (the sky, heaven), unsweetened. Sugared drinks are to make money, not for your health. Drink two glasses of water when you wake up, and 10-15 minutes before you eat. You won’t be as thirsty for sweetened drinks. Carry water with you. Drink it when you are thirsty or hungry”. I bring a bag of only 150 tablespoons of sugar and a Coke bottle with a corresponding amount of raw sugar as a demonstration. Of course, they ask whether I plan to leave the bag of sugar at the conclusion of my demonstration. My homily is longer than this, but you get the message and the depth of the problem.

A liter of bottled water cost $5 WST, a liter of Coke costs , and a liter of beer $10 WST.

Salt: The consumption of salt by Samoans is only exceeded by sugar. Salted canned meats, salted corn beef, handfuls of salt go into a pot of soup, dumping heaps of salt on the food you are served even before tasting, it is on everything. Little wonder combined with obesity the levels of high blood pressure are among the highest in the world and why they are so thirsty. Like sugar, salting of food is a habit, done thoughtlessly.

Since I can’t turn people into pillars of salt, I ask why they don’t drink sea water. After all 250 milliliters of sea water contains about a teaspoon of salt, the minimum daily amount. I show them a small can of corned beef and canned fish in tomato sauce which each contains the same amount of salt as 250 milliliters of sea water. They drool over the can of corned beef which is like giving a bottle of good wine in the U.S.

I am having trouble finding a biblical passage about consuming too much salt, so my words fade in the sound of the pounding surf. “Just don’t put the container of salt on the table”, I plead.” There is enough salt in what you eat to keep you healthy.” Habits are hard to break, including mine of sounding like Jimmy Swaggert.

Of course, I have learned a lot more, including of knowing when people have read enough of this blog.

August 5, 2011

This past week was a whirlwind of activity, staying overnight in places of luxury and “rusticness”, screening people for diabetes and hypertension, adding schools and school children to the program, and distributing 1,000 bottles of virgin coconut oil and honey, as I travelled to visit all the participating Peace Corps Volunteers in Samoa. As a little extra, there was training for the Ministry of Education, Sports, and Culture personnel on Savaii. Here are some of the highlights of the past week.

Samoan View

Vaisala Bay, Savaii

Chelsea Kovacs and school teachers

Rachel Camp leading her class

Rachel's class with pink wristbands

Wild screen as Rachel's class leave for home

Olivia Hansen and Iva Women's Committee

Iva women displaying wristbands after being weighed and taking the "Pledge"

Getting BMI during training of employees from Ministry of Education, Sports, and Culture

More wristbands on more Samoans

Ministry changed name of their program to "The Pink Challenge"

Drinking water instead of sweetened drinks with lunch, a first for most.

Karen Corey weighing children at her school

Karen's class of 6-8th graders Children of Matautu, school of Jenny McCracken

Kalein O'Connell and her school

A typical Samoan teacher who has what I call "Teacher's Disease"

July 27, 2011

I was just delivered 500 bottles of honey. My honey supplier, Lester, told me how busy he was supplying honey to the “Survivor”. It was the food they seem to be surviving on.

The “Survivor” program is filming two more seasons of the program in Samoa. This is their second two season session. Can it be Lester’s honey?

July 25, 2011

As a reward for participating in the Samoa Challenge, I am giving out 500 ml bottles of Extra Virgin Coconut Oil or Samoan Honey, both items promoted and sold by my sponsoring organization, Women in Business Development (WIBD). For curiosity I decided to do a little test.

One test was to determine if Samoans had a preference for cooking oils. I set up 500 ml bottles of palm oil, sunflower oil, soya oil and WIBD’s coconut oil in the WIBD office and asked how they would use the oils. Sunflower and soya oils were ruled out immediately. Hardly anyone had ever heard of these oils. The choice was clear. Palm oil was used for cooking while coconut oil was used for massages and hair oil. Hardly anyone associated coconut oil with cooking even though their employer WIBD was promoting it as the “Healthiest Oil on Earth”! I was in trouble.

I set aside a bottle of coconut oil of the same size bottle of honey, and then asked which they would choose. Almost everyone chose honey. I asked why? “Because you can eat it!” was the reply.

Lastly, I asked if they got the bottle of coconut oil instead of the honey what would they do with it. Most said they would put it into smaller bottles and sell it. They could never use 500 ml of coconut oil in a number of years. Coconut oil sold in the market was vastly more expensive than honey or any other type of oil.

Coconut oil was made by native Samoans and used for cooking before the cheap palm oil and money from overseas changed both the production of coconut oil and even the recognition of its use as cooking oil. I have used coconut oil for cooking and it is the best, if not the healthiest.

Now I have five hundred 500 ml in my house to distribute. That is one Hell-of-a-Massage!

July 22, 2011

If I said a hundred times how proud I am to have the opportunity to work these Peace Corps Volunteers, I haven’t said it enough. They represent what I feel the United States represents, giving of their time and talents to help others without any hope of being rewarded and maybe not even being recognized.

Of course, some come with warts, some with no idea of their next step, and others to build resumes. Most have thought of joining the Peace Corps years before joining. Some have parents who encouraged them to step outside of their familiar boxes and venture to an unknown land, knowing of the dangers, but also to help their children grow.

Here are a few who helped the past week:

Dan Butterfoss (back row)

Mike Abouraad

Katie Klane

Rivka Rocchio (husband Chris, not pictured)

July 21, 2011

Sometimes one can get so wrapped up with the little things in life you forget just where you are. Samoa is called the “Jewel of the Pacific”. This is a beautiful place. This is a view from my overnight cabin. The view combined with the cool trade winds makes missing the heat wave in the upper Midwest seem a little more bearable.

South Sea lagoons can be among the most breathtaking vistas on earth, but they also can be very dangerous. This is a view of a lagoon showing the “cut” in the barrier reef. As the tide rises and falls, the water in the lagoon rushes through this opening. During high tide, the incoming water fills the lagoon. During low tide the flow is out to sea and anyone caught in its current goes out to the big stuff which waits on the deep side of the reef. One Chinese tourist tested his swimming skills at this cut, only to never been seen again.

July19, 2011

I was alerted upon my arrival of resistance I might receive to the Samoa Challenge III from Peace Corps Volunteers who participated in last year’s Samoa Challenge II. When all but one indicated being part of this year’s revised and simplified Challenge, I was ecstatic. My early euphoria has diminished as I now realize that all the females from last year on the island of Upolu where Apia is located, except one, have banded together and to not do the Challenge in their villages and schools. They had also recruited a roommate from this year’s group into their cabal.

What is interesting is all the men from last year on both islands and the women who live on Savaii are participating and indeed are among the most energetic of the Volunteers. They are doing just fine and are some of the leaders in their villages, as well, as with newer volunteers.

The disappointing thing to me is not that “The Seven” don’t want to participate, for their participation is voluntary, but lead me on, wasting my time and resources. What is more disappointing than that is the villagers who had been exposed to some health care information last year are missing out on having that information be reinforced and being screened for diabetes and hypertension.

All cabals have reasons. I am sure this one does too. Whatever their justifications may be, the Samoans in their villages and the people of the United States deserve better. The Peace Corps is here to serve. Grievances, petty or not, should not interfere with trying our very best in that capacity.

My plan is simple; proceed as if the cabal doesn’t exist. Go into their villages, distribute information, and screen villagers. At least, I can say, “I tried”.

July 16,2011

What has happened to Mary and my host family over the past two years? I was able to spend a few hours with them on my most recent trip to Iva on the island of Savaii. In many ways they typify what family means in Samoa.

Our old little fale, house, is now occupied by the head of the family’s younger sister who has returned to permanently stay with her American husband after living in Hawaii for a number of years. She is the woman who wanted to adopt the young boy and grandnephew of the boy she is holding, Lawrence, named after her husband.

The daughter in the front row is pregnant expecting in November and is back living with the family after being a journalism student and reporter for the Samoan newspaper. I don’t know any details.

The other three girls are still in school. Although there are plans that the two oldest will go to New Zealand to continue their schooling and probably gain a dual citizenship.

Others not pictured are an older son studying for the priesthood who fathered a child with the woman in the next house; another son who has returned to a Catholic high school in hopes he eventually completes his education; a daughter and mother of Lawrence who lives in Apia with husband, her son, Nicholas, and daughter, Mary, and her younger brother; the eldest son who is living in Fiji and soon to become the village priest; and another older son, who has a son of his own with another woman, but is married to a Tongan.

As I sat in an open house with my host father and mother, I was amazed at the pride the man had for his expanding family and the acceptance of the woman. It really didn’t matter how the family grew or what the children’s futures may be, for they were an aiga, family. Somehow they would all look after one another under the grace of God.

July15, 2011

O le Pokolame Piniki or the Pink Program is my new moniker for the Samoan Health Challenge. The pink wristband defines and identifies the program. It is what people want. People even promise to eat less to get one!

Since all the Peace Corps Volunteers are rural primary school teachers, the program expanded to include students in grades six through eight. The wristbands are a way to get a health tip flyer to their parents. What a hit! The teachers are also drawn into the program as they explain the flyer to the students.

At a resort I was staying, four Australian tourists remarked about driving through a neighboring village with students at the side of the road raising their pink wristbands in the air.

Operation “O le Pokolame Piniki” is off and running.

Devon Childress

Matt Kaplan

Yours truly

July14, 2011

Living in a traditional society is hard, especially for Westerners. Many join the Peace Corps to be an agent for change. Of course, the change envisioned is to bring your view of enlightenment to others.

Females are particularly prone to this notion as they grapple with their new “lower” status is Samoan society. If you are married, as Mary and I, you find it is your husband who is heard and given credit, even if are the one responsible. If you are female and young, only the strongest in language skills and personality seem to thrive. If you are older and female, you may fall in between. This gap is especially evident during the first year of service.

As time passes, those still here find either Samoans have seen the light you bring or you have seen and figured out how to negotiate your way in the fog. It probably is a mixture of the two with the latter being the predominant hue. Whereas others thought you a complete incompetent before, you now find yourself leading an exercise group at 5:00 am in the morning or having other teachers wonder if some of your methods may have some validity. You may even be contemplating extending your service into a third year. Flip a coin as to who is the wiser.

I being the old, white man with a string of degrees have an easier time of fitting into a more respected role. I can blow into a school, command attention from principle, teachers, and students about the Samoan Challenge whereas the younger female Peace Corps teacher struggle. I can help them get started and give the program a legitimacy they could not.

I do have a lingering question though. I wonder if young females understand their responsibilities to old, white men with a string of degrees when they return home.

Dana Gray

Elisa Law

Emilie Neal

Lilly Watson

July 10, 2011

A village Challenge Group exercising at 5:00 am

Three months have passed since my arrival to respond to a need to complete the second half of a two year Samoan Health Challenge grant. During that time intelligence was gathered, scouting expeditions probed for a pathway, plans were drawn up and revised, now for the battle. Like Pogo of the comic strips, “We have met the enemy and it is us”.

The apathy given to this project, and ergo me, by my the administrations of the “sponsoring organizations”, Women in Business Development and Peace Corps, and by many of the Peace Corps Volunteers is only overshadowed by the responsiveness of the Samoan people. They fully understand their own health predicament and want to be shown a way out. It is when I honestly talk to them face-to-face about what they already suspect, but like all humans, don’t want to face, that I realize the importance of my stay. Their faces are what keep me going.

What is hard to accept is the reality of the NGO and governmental world. This is not the results oriented world, in which I find my reality. It is a world of fulfilling the requirements and budgets of the funder. Results, both long and short term, are of little or consequence. It is the process that matters. So organizations move from fad to fad depending on the “cause d’jour”, be it tsunamis, climate change, obesity, breast feeding, animal rights and all other rights, abuses and all other abuses, inhumanities and all other inhumanities, freedoms and all other freedoms, wherever and whenever good and guilty hearts fork out money, filling out long reports to be filed for posterity only. Mission Accomplished. It is maintaining the organization which counts.

Please don’t misread me. I am not saying this is bad. It is just hard being from one world and trying to exist in another.

My battle plan for the next seven weeks is to engage the enemy, take their money, and do my best to assist those for whom it is intended. Then to get on the plane, return to my family, and say I met the Challenge. I tried.

July 8, 2011

For months I have been trying to arrange a meeting with a representative from the Ministry of Health. Finally after two cancelations, I had the opportunity to meet with the Principle Officer for Health Programs arranged by a summer intern in Public Health from the University of California, Berkeley.

The meeting progressed cautiously as we both assessed the other’s motives and interests. The Principle Officer warned me about duplicative and unauthorized programs with possibly conflicting messages. She was skeptical. I was on thin ice as she glanced at her watch.

I then showed her the wristband on my wrist and explained that anyone who pledged to “try” got one as a reminder to themselves and also it served as reinforcement as it had to be explained to others.

“How simple”, she said. “Do you have any extras?” “I want 1,000”

“No problem”, I said,” but how about starting with 500?” “Would you like one on your wrist?”

“Yes. I gained so much weight when I came back from New Zealand”, she said. “I am meeting with the all the department heads this Tuesday and can’t wait to tell them about how I am going to use these wristbands in our new national exercise program aimed at company and organizational employees.”

I also gave her a jar of my mango salsa which is almost as magical as pink wristbands.

Bingo!

July 7, 2011

My rental car, a Toyota Cami, of unknown year and kilometerage. These used right-hand drive are flooding the Samoa market, as Samoa turns to Japan and China as a main trading partner.

When Mary and I were living in a rural village from 2007-2009, we felt like” real Peace Corps Volunteers”. We were out there amongst the natives, trying as best we could to understand them. We tried to use our skills in some way to help them. Objectives and goals were unclear, wondering what I am doing here. Our reception met with both joy and trepidation. We had the “Peace Corps experience”.

My first couple of months was a transitional period. There were some objectives and goals, albeit rather hazy. I worked in an air-conditioned office in “the city” surrounded by stores and people who would rather speak English than Samoan. I had a job description, a budget, and a title. Still I took the bus, rode my bike, and walked. I mixed with the locals and other volunteers easily.

Now I have a car with a schedule to meet the objectives and goals for which I was brought here to do. I have a “job”!

I knew this was going to happen and indeed I am progenitor of my own situation. I am really not sorry, but a little nostalgic for the Peace Corps Volunteer I was.

It is time for me now to hit the road and help those Peace Corps in their own villages as they grapple with their own and other people’s Challenges, to be a Peace Corps Response Volunteer.

July 7, 2011

I have never eaten bat before, but I understand they are deelicious. The bats in Samoa are called "Flying Foxes" and they eat fruit. Watching them as they fly at dusk is like seeing a squadron of bombers.

Here is one Peace Corps Volunteer, Elisa Law, who taped her "Eating Bat Brains Experience"

June 30, 2011

It happens all over the world, the need for companies and organizations to have a “compulsory social night”. These events are organized by a socially aware employee to build harmony among people who would rather be home and who cannot stand another moment of listening to their manager’s pontificate about how great everything and one are. The usual draws are prizes and free food with a “uniting” theme. The social night for Women in Business Development’s theme is “Oldies Night”, ` the food is a large pizza for every two people, the prizes are for most weight lost, best costume, and the “Employee of the Quarter”. This is the first of what is planned to be many social nights.

As with many events like this, there are surprises. Sleeper employees suddenly come to the fore. Those quiet, diligent people who make up the backbone of any organization, others never notice reveal their alter-persona, take their prizes and awards, then return to their own private and productive lives.

Party organizer and manager

Former Samoan Peace Corps who married a Samoan, still pitches baseball at 66, wears

high school uniform

Lost over 20 pounds in six weeks, married father of two

June 28, 2011

Someone once said that life is filled with years of ennui and a few moments of sheer terror. It was the terror that changes your life. For Samoa, the most recent terror was the tsunami of September, 2009. I stayed at a rebuilt resort at the center of the tsunami and once thriving resort area located in the Alipata area.

Of course, the resort was just a shadow of itself, but what struck me were a few beautifully carved wooden artifacts made by her son which I remember when our Peace Corps group stayed there in 2007. The owner said how she had found them buried up on the side of the mountain behind the resort.

I guess she was amazed at my memory, but I was more amazed by the tremendous effort and determination to rebuild her life when the others had permanently fled the area to higher ground.

Yes, the carvings were a reminder of the terror she had experienced, yet they serve as an inspiration to continue a new and changed life.

Beach fale at Faofao, a very nice way to spend the night, fanned by the trade winds to the roar of the surf crashing on the barrier reef.

June 28, 2011

Natalie Ziemba is a first year Peace Corps teacher in a rural primary school in Aufaga on the island of Upolu. She is trying to form Challenge groups but her efforts so far have failed. When asked what she had done, I could not help but relate to her frustrations.

Like Mary and I had done previously, Natalie walked the road in her village, stopping at individual houses, and then put up signs announcing a meeting for those who are interested in joining the Samoa Challenge (We did the same for a talent contest). No one showed, even those who said they would. Her heart and spirits were broken. I said not to worry I think I can relate to your situation, so off to Aufaga I fled.

We started with the teachers in her school. We got out the scale, put up the measuring tape, literature, and those mighty pink wristbands. Before long the teachers were enrolled, enthusiastic to others join them, some from other villages. Next target was the church, the minister was out of the country, but the leader of the young adult group was in the middle of his daily activities. When shown the Biblical quotation about God’s word on the “body being his temple”, he too was on board and was ready to get his group involved.

This is the way things work around here, build it or set it up and they will come. People don’t have appointment calendars; they want to make sure something will happen by seeing it happen first, then maybe. Of course, getting to the right people and referencing the Bible helps too.

For teachers who are used to the discipline of small children in a classroom, interacting with adults in the village can be a daunting experience. It is just another part of “The Challenge”.

The epilogue is yet to be written about Natalie and Aufaga, but they are on their way. They just need to “try”.

June 27, 2011

A child with an unusual name like Rainn, needs an unusual room. His mother and my daughter, Kim, painted his room with composite scenes from Samoa and other tropical places yet to be visited.