after years of picking out pink ruffly clothing for me and not understanding why i never liked anything she picked out, my mother has evidently turned to ellen for dykey wardrobe support.

since i got to wisconsin, she's been taking me shopping for clothes for tanzania. while shopping one day, she mentioned that i might want to get a jacket for my business casual wardrobe, explaining that ellen wears them. before i had a chance to ask why this mattered, mom explained that ellen is the one she looks to in order to find out what gay women wear. the answer is simple shirts with a jacket, simple slacks, and tennis shoes.

gee, i've always had a hard time picking out clothes - too bad someone didn't tell me before that this is the nouveau lesbian uniform to replace flannels, mullets, and jeans!

i had to explain to my mom that tennis shoes probably wouldn't go over as well for business casual in a social enterprise in tanzania as they do on an american talk show. then again, who knows...

the first ad in the upper right-hand corner of my facebook page reads "balance your life." the ad just below reads "christmas your profile."

ha.

The NAU chapter of Net Impact - "a network of students and professionals committed to using the power of business to affect positive social change" - is officially launched. Monday night, we had a panel on social entrepreneurship and a green-catered reception afterward. The best part is that we managed to get over 200 people to our launch event, because the event was a "Pathways" program. Essentially, this means that students get credit for attending.

I got to moderate, which was pretty fun, and explain briefly what social entrepreneurship is, and then we had 3 panelists. All of our speakers were awesome - we were definitely lucky to have them - but the part of evening that will stick in my mind was one of Billy Parish's power point slides. It showed the proportion of business students who thought money was more important than passion when finding a job. Predictably, most of the business students thought this. However, when they followed up with these same people 10 years later, they found that the people with the most money were those who thought that passion was more important than money.

Now, it's not like you have to convince me that passion is more important than money - I know this. And the reason it's more important isn't because it can make you rich in the end anyhow. But for the hundreds of freshmen and sophomore business students sitting in the crowd? I think that's something a lot of them needed to hear. And it was in their language: profit-ese. :)

Another awesome thing was that one of the speakers was the executive director of a nonprofit that works to empower young women through mentorship and running - and she identified herself as a feminist. I think it might be the first time I've ever seen someone identify as a feminist in the business building since I got here. Sweet.

We will change things, little by little.

i just applied for a job in rwanda. i really hope i get it. it's with an ngo called "one acre fund," which was started by a bunch of mba students right after they graduated. there seems to be a ton of great energy in this org, and quite a few brains as well. and - shockingly for a development nonprofit- there is a degree of organization that borders on ocd. maybe our generation will save the world, yet.

the concept of one acre fund is like a microfinance institution, except that instead of loaning funds, they loan seeds and farmers pay back with crops which the ngo helps them sell at better prices. essentially, one acre is acting like a coop - but a very well run and very transparent one.

today reminds me of the rainy season in cameroon. owning no car, and with my bike in the shop, and the bike i was temporarily borrowing also out of order, i feel justified staying home from work today due to the rain. the sound of rain is beautiful anywhere, but especially in a dry place like arizona.

a funny thing happens when your dreams begin to come true (hearing joni mitchel in the background here - "though his dreams have lost some grandeur in coming true.."). it's looking more and more like the fair trade cooperative is actually going to come into being. and not only that, it's probably going to be combined with a grocery coop and a community action center. and an all ages performance venue. with a recording studio upstairs. yesterday i actually saw the space where it's all probably going to happen.

this is practically exactly what i sketched in my notebook one cameroonian morning, about 2 years ago, while sipping coffee. so - why does it now feel kind of disappointing? i guess the dreaming is over and now the logistics and hard work kick in. now i have to deal with the realities instead of ideals, and things just can't possibly measure up. the people i'm working with aren't my ideal team of course (because that would be impossible), and the space isn't the ideal space, of course (because an earth ship is a little expensive to build right off the bat, and other people aren't necessarily as into my wacky ideas).

funny because my main cohort in this venture seems to be all pumped up now that things are becoming more concrete, and i'm the opposite. the planning and scheming stages are the ones that get me going.

i watched synecdoche last night, and one of the themes - that we struggle into existence and work hard to chase our dreams and then once we achieve our dreams, or not, they become disappointing. and we fade slowly out of existence. and this is everyone's story - resonated pretty strongly with me.

... i guess it's premature and egotistical to think i could have achiever's emptiness at this point (the lack of meaning after one has one the olympic gold medal or sold an album platinum must be more staggering). hell, we haven't even opened our doors yet, much less broke even. but just - this was all a pipe dream for me a short time ago, and now it's happening? weird. just weird. maybe i don't have achiever's emptiness but rather a post-dreamer's malaise.

after getting rejected in my plans to travel to mexico for the 3rd time (this time would have been an alternative spring break volun-tourism trip), i found a 2nd option at the last minute: guatemala. turns out that the campus ministry group is going down there for spring break and apparently they are willing to let me tag along even though i'm a lesbian humanist. seriously tho - they are all about social justice and not about evangelism, so i think it will be cool.

the best part is that, in addition to doing some tourism, we're visiting a fair trade coffee coop, and also a recycled brick building project where they use old plastic bottles to build houses. i'm hoping to make some connections with people that i can work with when (not if, when!) this flagstaff fair trade coop gets off the ground. one of the people who will be guiding us around down there also tipped us off to the traditional "mayanut" drink which is now being also made by a fair trade women's coop.

we leave on saturday and stay for a week. i can't wait to check it all out. now if i just spoke spanish..

well, tomorrow i might finally get to go kayak on some challenging whitewater, for the first time in... geez, at least 3 years if not more. i met this guy who lives in flag and writes paddling books, and he is going to take me out with a bunch of people on oak creek, which looks to be an amazing run and only runs for a few weeks per year at best (we live in a desert).

i'm in the process of starting a fair trade cooperative in flag, too, with some other people in the community. something that has come together last minute is a trip to guatemala over spring break to meet with coffee farmers i might get a chance to work with through the fair trade coop.

also i'm organizing a legal aid workshop for immigrants and particularly family members of undocumented immigrants in flagstaff who are still reeling from recent ICE (immigrations and customs enforcement) raids that happened here. we are building a movement that says that we're all humans, regardless which side of some arbitrary line drawn by a white man centuries ago which supposedly separates us.

school goes. it's not the main thing in my life, but it's fine. next year when i start the actual mba program, it will probably become the main thing in my life. that may suck a bit (tho in the long run, i think it's a very good idea), i'm enjoying being single right now, and having a life that feels fulfilling in and of itself. it's such a huge contrast to when i was feeling depressed after coming home from peace corps, i can't even begin to tell you how liberating. it's like.. life seems worth living again.

i am going to start eating a lot more beans, i've decided. they are cheap and wholesome. they are the best. i already eat a lot of soy beans, but they are usually processed into something like tofu. i want to eat straight up beans. i want to grow beans and eat em. i need some recipees. anybody have any?

i just found out that louis armstrong liked his hometown beans and rice so much that he signed his letters

red beans and ricely yours,

louis

i can't say how sad it makes me that obama has already started dropping bombs and indiscrimatorily killing civilians. i'm done trusting politicians.

and i can't believe people are just looking the other way and pretending that obama is this saviour. he's not, people. we have to hold him accountable as much as anybody. we can't ignore that he has already bloodied his hands and wants to send the troops over to afghanistan, not home, and may well get us into another vietnam if we don't do something to stop it. i know - we're sick of having to be cynical and having to attack our president and we're ready for hope and peace. but guess what, it's not here yet.

yay for closing gitmo and undoing the global gag.

but this is not ok.

happy 79th birthday a few days late, martin luther king.

i sure wish you were with us still, to see obama's inaugeration. my minister told us yesterday about the time you were stabbed at a book signing and would have drowned in your own blood had you sneezed. and how a little girl wrote you a letter saying "i'm so happy you didn't sneeze." you later gave a speech saying you were happy you didn't sneeze, too, since if you had sneezed you would not have been around to see the student lunch counter sit-ins in 1960. and how when students started sitting in you knew they were really standing up for the best in the american dream.

and how if you had sneezed, you wouldn't have been around in 1962 when black people in albany, ny decided to straighten their backs and won a desegregation campaign. and how you said that "whenever men and women straighten their backs up, they're going somewhere, because a man can't ride your back unless it's bent." i think you have a point, there. i also think i could use a little back-straightening myself. so today i'm going to meditate about back-straightening in your honor and memory.

and even though you aren't with us to see our first black president take office, you did say we would get there. we aren't there yet, of course, but now we don't have to tell children that it's possible for a black person to be president, do we? they will already know.

when things got a little chaotic, my mom used to refer to our family as a three-ring circus sometimes when i was little. she had no idea.

my friend mimi invited me to a circus party last night. despite not knowing what that was (or perhaps *because* i didn't know what it was) i accepted. it turns out that a travelling "radical circus" (for lack of better term, and to differentiate from animal-abusing circuses like the shriner's circus) from milwaukee was passing through town. they ended up staying at my friend's house because her roommate was friends with them, and they had tried to line up a show in flagstaff, but apparently flag's own "circus bachus" was unable to line up a proper show for them. according to the circus people from milwaukee, circus bachus initially said they could do a house show at their house, but then changed that to "we're having a house party and you can come." hence the circus party.

when i stepped into mimi's house, the circus party had already begun as far as i was concerned. on top of the tv-less entertainment center was a cage with a rat in it. zelda, according to the charming and flirty young woman (she made me an anarchist black star necklace out of a twist tie later that night) who was it's owner. zelda was the only non-human member of the circus troupe. however, as i went around the living room shaking hands, i soon met jugglers, musicians, magicians, and even a "boy-lesque" performer.

as mimi and i attempted to bake some poppyseed muffins, we were so overwhelmed by jokes, loud balloons, and card and dice tricks that we could scarcely get out a measuring cup or find the salt. going to the grocery store with the troupe was even more of a ... well, circus. whether it was juggling oranges or balancing loaves of italian bread, the troupe never allowed for a dull moment in the store. funny, i always figured that clowns would need some down time when they were off the clock. not so, apparently - these kids just kept going like little energizer bunnies of radical circusdom.

sadly, there was no opportunity to see them officially perform. however, i do think we got a pretty good show just by hanging out with them.

i went to my first house show in flagstaff last night at "the cottage house". there were lots of random people and punk kids there. the music was mellow. i liked it. these guys played: www.myspace.com/frenchquartermusic

i feel so.. underground :)

yesterday i went cross-country skiing at winter park with mom and dad and tried out my new backcountry skis that i got for christmas. i already have skate skis, but they are fairly useless out west where the cross-country trails are not groomed regularly if at all. for skating you need more than two little grooves, you need a 5-8 foot path of flattened snow, or it's not fun at all. and out west with the volume of snow they get it would be impractical to try and keep such a trail groomed, especially when 99% of the skiers are only into downhill skiing anyway.

i like cross-country because it's great excersize and it's a silent sport that gets you out into the woods without motors. no motorized ski-lift, no pricey lift ticket, and no clear cutting a large swath of a mountain for recreational purposes. and if you are really good, like the norwegians i know, you can ski up a mountain on your cross-country skiis and telemark turn down.

it was a beautiful day for skiing at winter park, with the sun shining on the light dusting of snow that had just fallen in the morning. lots of kids were out training with their high school teams and playing around and doing ski jumps on their skinny skis. and the trails were nicely groomed. but it was ridiculously icy, with the melting that went on the day before, and winter park has a lot of super steep downhills that curve at the bottom. i took a hard wipeout on the hard packed snow at the bottow of one of them, so my head was spinning for awhile and i've got a nice bruise developing on my right shoulder.

when i met up with dad at the end of the day he said he had wiped out, too, and then we figured out that it had been the exact same spot, which i am now going to call stalheim's demise. this was pretty funny, because at winter park there are dozens of different trails and different steep hills that one could fall on, and because the hill where we both took a digger was in a place where you had an option to go left or right. we both chose to go right to avoid the hill, not realizing that the right path actually took you down a much steeper hill than the left path.

as a result, dad has a slightly sprained upper ankle (which didn't stop him from skiing several more hours) and also a nice bruise developing there to match my shoulder. mom was the only one smart enough to avoid the steep hills all together in the icy conditions. she stayed on the gently rolling trails and didn't fall at all.

There are always people who dare to seek on the margin of society, who are not dependent on social acceptance, not dependent on social routine, and prefer a kind of free-floating existence under a state of risk. And among these people, if they are faithful to their own calling, to their own vocation and to their own message from God, communication on the deepest level is possible. And the deepest level of communication is not communication, but communion. It is wordless. It is beyond words and it is beyond speech, and it is beyond concept.

Thomas Merton

lazy and barely willing to leave his ranch during most of his 2 terms, bush is now truly sprinting toward the finish of his legacy of global destruction. before he leaves office, he seems bent on selling as much of the environment as possible to corporations. among other things, he has been granting leases to mining companies along the shore of the colorado river, something that will affect the drinking water supply of 1 in 12 americans, and which will be impossible for obama to undue. *if* obama even stands for the environment once he gets into office. which... i'll believe it when i see it.

on december 3, bush's interior department issued a "new rule" to try and take away congress' power (granted in a 1976 law) to put an emergency stop to resource extraction. revoking the 1976 law will open up the door for ground-water polluting uranium mines and water-intensive oil shale mining industry in the colorado river watershed.

apparently feeling free now to quench their thirst for environmental exploitation, last week the bush administration auctioned off 359,000 acres of federal land for natural gas projects on the banks of the colorado near moab, utah.

359,000 acres. of federal land.

i sure hope that the obama's pick for the new secretary of the interior, ken salazar, is not as conservative as he sounds. at best, he sounds like he might be a good diplomat in the tricky web of conflicting interests that makes up environmental politics. at worst, he's already in the pocket of mining and ranching companies. lately, obama - with his rick warren debunkle - is disappointing me a little. i know i shouldn't be surprised, but i guess i dared to hope because it was just so tempting.

i see christmas as one of the many solstice celebrations, and not the other way around. the word "yule" comes from norse "jul" which means wheel. as the darkest day of the year, winter solstice marks the turning point for the great wheel of seasons. as the wheel spins, the light returns, and then disappears again, in an everlasting cycle.

i'm looking forward to the solstice party tonight - it's a party that my parents' friends hold every year, and it's done the nordic way, with fire. we light a bonfire at the first friend's house and have snacks and drinks there, and then take a torch from that bonfire and carry it to the next house and light a fire there. this method is guaranteed to bring back the sun, and has worked every single time :)

the only thing is, it's going to be below zero tonight in our north-central wisconsin township of little black, and i'm getting some sore throat symptoms. not a good combo.

mari boine, singing above, is a sami woman, one of the indigenous people of northern norway and sweden. in their homeland, winter solstice is true darkness, since they are above the arctic circle. when my mom, my sister & her husband, and i were bike touring northern norway, we went to a sami museum, which was fascinating. sami music, called "joik", was was banned in norway well into the 1900s, along with sami language. today sami people are fighting like so many indigenous people to undue this cultural destruction and erasure.

lyrics to "voui voui mu" translated into english:

Vuoi Vuoi Me

Vuoi my little yellowbird

Vuoi my summernight bird

cuckoo and eagle

Vuoi my swallow

with nest under riverbanks

Vuoi nighttowl

with limitless vision

Vuoi vuoi me

Vuoi vuoi joy

with hearty laughter

Vuoi sorrow

with oceans of salty tears

Vuoi vuoi frost

winter and cold

Vuoi summer with burning hot days

Vuoi vuoi me

mari boine on the sami music ban:

what does this have to do with solstice? well, indigenous religion is where solstice celebrations originate, and that album is called "in the hand of the night." but i came up empty-handed on my original search for a youtube video of my favorite solstice song, "darkness cover me," by sara thomsen. . i saw sara thomsen perform it at a solstice concert in minneapolis a few years back, and it was wonderful. i like the idea of the seed "deep in the dark soil of the earth." the idea of the solstice symbolizing the potential of the seed that is planted in the "womb of the night."

on another tangent, when i couldn't find sara thomsen and was looking for traditional norse music for this solstice post, i kept coming across edward grieg, tho i was looking for something older. i came across several versions of "in the hall of the mountain king" and it reminded me of the time when i was an assistant teacher at pre-school in maryland, we had a norwegian day, and i read a story to the kids and we played "hall of the mountain king" and we all hid and started creeping out like trolls. it was pretty fun, but i guess i got a ghoolish look on my face and started clawing my hands a little too much, because the head teacher told me to tone it down, i was scaring the kids.

anyway, for some not-so-traditional norse music, here is another version of "in the hall of the mountain king" by apocalyptica. i think one of the guys in this band is a little overly full of himself, but these boys sure can play 'em some strings.

it always surprises me when a friend who i didn't previously think of as homophobic tells me that it would make them "uncomfortable" or be "distracting" to be in an environment that was mostly gay - or even if just half of the population was queer - even being in that environment for as little as a week.

last night at open mic night, i had such a conversation with my friend. he was telling me about how his sister goes to smith college but is not a lesbian. he said he wouldn't be able to handle going there. he said if he were at a school that was half gay, it would be too "distracting" to learn. he added that it wasn't only the people who were gay, but they talked about gay stuff in lots of the courses.

keeping in mind that he studied astronomy, not political science, i still found his "distracting" comment disturbing. of course it would be distracting - when you grow up with privilege, loosing it even if for a day is... well, mind boggling. but in a good way, right? i mean, why not take off your privilege blinders and walk a mile in the other person's shoes, right? not that it's the same experience as actually being a minority, but at least you can get a slight clue, and it might be a gateway to deeper understanding. in my opinion, the world would be a far better place if everyone who is part of a racial, religious, or sexual majority was forced to step out of their privileged position in society for just one day and see what the world looks like when you're a minority.

i didn't try and disagree with him outright, but instead told about my experience as a white person attending a class at howard, a black university, and how instead of viewing my unusual racial minority status as "distracting" i viewed it as very educational - more so than any course i could ever take.

i had another convo like this with a straight female friend awhile back after i'd invited her to come to michigan womyn's music festival with me - a womyn only music event at which most goers are lesbians. she couldn't go, but later when i gave her a report of the event and told her that, if i had to guess, i'd say 90% of the women there were lesbians, she was shocked that i had asked her to go in the first place. "i would have been, like, the only straight girl there!" she said.

um, excuse me? in my world, 90% of the population is ALWAYS of an orientation other than my own - 365 days a year. don't you think you could try it for one week?

what's disturbing, i guess, is that a lot of my friends - including those who view themselves as "gay-friendly," they see their majority, privileged status as their enshrined right without ever even thinking twice about it. and, i have to ask this question: if we are not willing to give up our own privileged status for even a *day*, how can we ever hope to eradicate racism, sexism, or homophobia?

i gave the children's message today at church - it was about fair trade chocolate (complete with samples, of course).. i was kind of ridiculously nervous about this - maybe more nervous than i would have been speaking to adults. (this morning in half-conscious dream state between the first and second rounds of my alarm clock, i kept having dreams about doing this children's message). but it went fine. pretty great, i might even say.

yesterday's fair trade sale at the uu church was good, too, except that i lost the key to the church somewhere between the bank and the coffee shop. (wtf?? i never lose keys. wallets yes, keys no.) so it didn't exactly start out on a positive note. but i had plenty of volunteer help and business was pretty good considering it was the first year. next year should be even better if we do it again.

there is a *lot* of stuff left, tho. i over-ordered, for sure. hopefully the sale on sunday will be decent. my parents and granmother will be visiting, so i intend to rope them into volunteering at it :) hey, i help paint the house and stuff when i'm home, so..

anyway, my mom prefers working to idling. protestant work ethic all the way.

i recently started attending a free series of zen meditation classes led by a generous woman i know from the uu fellowship, and have found it to be exactly what i need right now. i'm not sure if it's a practice i'll continue with, or if it's something i am drawn to only for the moment. but it occurs to me that i have been practicing zen at various points - mostly while kayaking or hiking - for most of my life. it's just that i'm being more intentional about it now.

saturday afternoon, i went on a sort of zen retreat of my own making. it had been a long while since i'd been solo camping, and with the past week of emotional upheaval it seemed time for some spring cleaning of the soul.

i affirmed my notion that it's legal to camp in the backcountry off the arizona trail without a permit and headed out to the sandy canyon trailhead. one of the reasons i chose this hike was because my hiking guide book told me that it passed through "the pit," a popular climbing area just outside of flagstaff that i hope to frequent this spring and summer. i wanted to see where the pit was and what it was like.

i began practicing mindfulness as i loaded up my trusty old gregory backpack that i got at a gear swap 10 years ago and hopped on my kona bicycle (one of the best things about this trip was that i was able to get from my door to the campsite and back entirely on my own power, without a drop of petrol). the only problem biking with my pack created was that i couldn't wear my helmet, because the top of my pack pushed my head forward uncomfortably. so i had to ride the 6 miles to the trailhead helmetless.

the weather was sunny and beautiful when i arrived. i locked my kona to a ponderosa pine and began hiking through the forest. as i walked, i tried to maintain mindfulness. once in awhile, i did feel like i achieved a true clarity and emptiness of mind for a moment, but i'm a beginner at meditation, and this is still very difficult for me. my mind often wandered, increasingly settling on my recent breakup. still, even when i thought of this, it was not with any anger or harsh feelings, only with a reminiscent longing. the sunshine and the natural beauty called to my mind the best of liz's personality, the gentleness and the goodness and the kindness that she radiates. the courage with which she enters the world with virtually no defenses. the compassion she shows for other people and for animals. and i missed all of this, and wished she were with me. i wished she was not leaving my life. i tried to let go of these thoughts though, and focus on my breathing and the sunshine.

in sandy's canyon, i found a perfect snack rock in the dry riverbed next to the trail. the rock was shaped like a giant booster seat, facing the sun. i climbed up on the rock and ate a sweet macintosh apple with relish while the sun warmed me. a couple of hikers walked past.

after my snack i continued the short jaunt to fisher's point, which stands at the intersection of walnut canyon and sandy's canyon. at the base of the cliff is a large cave, carved out of sandstone that is rippled with thick folds.

the view from the top of fisher's point was gorgeous, and i could see three trails intersecting in a y-shape far below. the trail forming the stem of the y was very dark with black sand, while the branches of the y appeared lighter in color, the left branch twisting as it made its way down sandy's canyon toward the pit. one might take many allegories from the wide wilderness vista and the three intersecting paths below. on a less serious note, though, the image reminded me of zelda, an adventure nintendo game i used to love as a kid.

seated on the white sandstone ledge overlooking the canyons, i enjoyed the last moment of warmth before the sun sank. i cleared my mind as i watched the glowing horizon darken and a fingernail clipping of moon brighten in the sky.

the night was cold, but i managed. snuggled in a sleeping bag i read teachings of the buddha by the light of my bicycle headlight. despite the cold, i did sneak out of the tent later in the night to get a good look at the stars. the sky was perfectly clear, and they were beautiful. the white sandstone slabs that formed a series of steps leading to the overlook glowed white in the starlight.

in the morning when the warmth returned i climbed out of my tent and saluted the sun with my own homespun version of a sun salutation. i sat on the sandstone ledge again and attempted to draw the view in my journal. drawing is certainly not my strong point, but i still find the act of drawing satisfying somehow.

i spent some time meditating on the ledge before packing up my tent and hitting the trail home, delighted to have found an ideal spot for a meditative retreat only 10 miles from my house. it could easily be a day trip as well, and is even reachable by mountain bike, provided one is equipped with hutzspah and a spare tube.

sometimes i think that language is a barrier to understanding instead of a help. lately i have been thinking about the concept of silent witness a lot.

take the ice (immigration and customs enforcement) raids that have been happening in flagstaff over the past several days. look at what is happening - i mean, simply examine the actions that have taken place. poor people living in homes that they pay for with very hard earned wages - wages far too low for the work they are doing, and wages earned by doing work that no one born in america would ever want to do - these people were taken from their homes and ripped away from their families by big burly men wearing light green uniforms and wearing badges that say "ice." this is absurd.

yet the average community member accepts this practice. why? because of the justifications ice makes. because of the bizzare consensus we have in our society that the geographic place of ones birth determines where they have a right to live, love, and work.

but if you zoom out from all of this arguing and see only images: people suffering in mexico, travelling to the us to provide for their families, working long and hard hours for meager pay, living peacefully in their homes until one day they are snatched by uniformed men. it doesn't take any additional knowledge to know that what is happening is wrong.

a similar thing happens if you look at a rich community where i used to live in bethesda, maryland. in this place, called brookmont, there were a bunch of rich white families with shwank jobs and then there were their nannies of color. many of these women were probably undocumented and poorly paid. when you zoom out from this situation and look at it from a distance, from far above the ground at a point where you cannot hear the words being said or the justifications in place... what exactly is the difference between this and slavery, really? what is the difference between capitalism and slavery except that in capitalism there is an illusion of freedom?

tomorrow i am travelling to the mexican border with no mas muerte, a humanitarian aid group who patrols the trails along the border where people try to cross and places emergency food and water packets for them to find. i am going to a place where humans are hunted with dogs. i will spend my thanksgiving be thankful i am not in that situation myself, and thankful that there are some people who care, thinking about what i can do with my life to lessen global injustice.

<edited to add>

* last year 183 dead bodies were recovered from the Arizona-Sonora border

i just got back from a whirlwind visit to our nation's capitol. it was pretty cool to be around all of those majestic marble buildings with their inspiring latin etchings and have them not seem completely ridiculous. we finally, for the first time in my life, have a president truly worthy of respect, who is intelligent, mannered, and thoughtful as a president should be. who can articulate important political points, weigh political ideas with wisdom, execute a flawless campaign, inspire people, win back the trust and respect of the global community, and.. lead.

it's about time.

in addition to participating in a touching and powerful event, tents of hope (www.tentsofhope.org), i got to see a 2 friends from peace corps cameroon who i hadn't seen for a year and one from pc gambia who i hadn't seen in 4.5 years, and also my old friend fidel from my undergrad years at american - who just got back from living in china, and who i hadn't seen for... 5 years! i also got to eat at one of my favortie african restaurants (ghana cafe) tour the museum of african art (my favorite), and check out the new american indian museum. not to mention, i had my first official couch surfing experience thanks to couchsurfing.com. i acquired a drum which used to be my mom's friend's daughter's, and plan to resume west african drumming lessons.

i also finished the book "eastern body, western mind" which uses a combination of chakra system and psychology as a path to self transformation. great book, with some great insights. it also has some very specific meditation and art therapy excercises which i plan to put into action.

the fresh snow on the ground when i returned to flagstaff and a vegan meal at hip restaurant with my friend justin also have me feeling fresh and rejuvinated. ready for our big repeal coalition event coming up on november 19th and the fair trade sales i'm organizing on december 6th and 14th. i'm also looking forward to next semester in school, which should be more challenging and engaging.

new president. new fresh snowy air in my lungs. new consciousness. new mindfulness. new self. :)

i started going to the unitarian church here in flag - this was my 2nd sunday.. it's always a little weird going to church after i haven't been for awhile. as liberal and unconventional as uu church is compared to the christian churches i grew up in, there are still times when the congregation has to all stand up and repeat certain words together (that all may not fully agree with), and the sermon still consists of one person sharing her "wisdom" and "insight" with the rest of us. that is not to say that this minister, and ministers in general, did not have a lot of great insight to share - she did. but so do many other people in the congregation, and yet we must keep our own reflections on the topic at hand to ourselves. this unilateral format in preaching is one tradition that i'm surprised unitarians have not altered - although each congregation is unique, and i'm sure there exist some uu groups who do engage in a more balanced and participatory service. amusing to me is the fact that, when participation from the congregation does in fact take place, it's in the form of call and response or recitation of a text - as if those in charge are worried what might happen if we actually spoke something besides what is scripted.

still, though, there is something special about getting together with other people for a spiritual purpose. about shared rituals that have a common meaning. about having group meditation time. about sharing joys and sorrows and listening to those of others. and about pooling resources for social justice efforts. it's nice. when it came time for sharing joys and sorrow, two lesbian couples announced joys - having eloped and gotten legally married in california. sorrows were a mixed bag of death, health problems, depression, and drug dependency.

todays sermon was about fall, and how as the darkness comes we pull into our inner selves. summer was compared with active yang, and winter with passive yin. fall has always been my favorite season. maybe it's partly because i like introspection, and curling up in a blanket on a cool night with a cup of hot cider, and reading a good book - fall and winter are cozy times when it's acceptable to do those things. equating this to a mental state, it's true that i like to retreat from the world and spend time with myself thinking, writing, reading - so much so that it can be hard to push myself out of that safe cozy inner world and interact with my fellow humans.

to add to the theme of introspection and the inner world, my dreams have been playing an active role in my life lately, and yesterday, my friend justin and i explored a nearby lava river cave. being in a cave always seems symbolic of the unconscious mind to me, and i wonder if most cavers aren't introverts.

our minister also read something today that was very poignant to me. i forget whose work she was reading from, but they said that inside each of us, deep in our center, there is a "you" who is not composed of your biography. and a you who has not been hurt or judged, who is confident, vibrant, and fully you. the "you" who existed before society told you who to be. there is still a piece of her left, somewhere, and introspection and meditation can be an opportunity to aquaint one's self better with this "you" and to not forget her, to bring her out into daily life more.

when i envision that part of me, i imagine myself as a 5-year-old tomboy, banging on my new drum set and wearing a cowboy outfit. i remember how loud i used to laugh and how socially courageous i used to be before i got the message that such behavour was obnoxious. people used to say they could hear me laughing from a mile away. people used to have to tell me to pipe down when i was a kid.

nowadays, tho, i am more often asked to speak up.

i have this pair of knickers that my friend alasia sewed for me, and for some reason, when i wear those - or my tailor-made pajamas from cameroon - that's when i feel the most in touch with this inner me from my childhood, the one who laughs so loud. i want to be her again. but she doesn't feel safe coming out much anymore.

i had been growing accustomed to ads and had been tuning them out until the other day, when a particularly gruesome ad on facebook caught my attention. the header was "watch live liposuction!" eww. then i started noticing that i was getting tons of liposuction ads from some arizona lipo company. i clicked on the thumbs down sign and selected the "offensive" option. but i still got the ads. plus the only other ads i was getting (which i only now started to notice) were dieting ads, and the occasional fashion ad.

i started getting pissed. why am i getting so many of these ads? the only thing i ever buy on the internet is music and books, so if facebook profiles consumer tastes to market to people, why can't they give me ads for those at least? then i looked into how facebook markets, and apparently they look at the "actions" and "preferences" of all of your friends. ugh. does this mean my friends have liposuction interests? i doubt it. i have a feeling that being a woman and having friends who are women earns you diet and lipo and fashion ads.

i tried to give the online marketeers a clue by joining a bunch of outdoor/activist/music lover type groups. i also joined a group for wasabi peas appreciation and bamboo is sustainable. if you're going to try and sell me things, try things i like. i'm still not going to buy them but at least i won't have to look at lipo ads. since then i've gotten a couple of book or social cause ads, but its still mostly fashion.com ads, hair removal, and dieting shit, especially the latest fad which appears to be an acai berry diet endorsed by oprah? color me fed up and disgusted.

since then i've also been noticing the ads on yahoomail more. and wondering if those are targeted too? i use my email address when buying things on the internet.. and now i feel like the internet is just becoming this gross commercial land where there is no adfree space. maybe i need to pay to get an account with no ads.

all this is to say that i think i'm gonna take a break from the myface madness and start livejournaling more again. at least i'm not constantly bombarded with messages about my body and appearance and how unacceptable they are, and how i should improve them.

oh, and "Oprah's NEW Acai Berry Diet!" can blow me.

i am at work sitting under a large and colorful bouquet of balloons that say happy birthday which was sent to me by the sweetest girlfriend ever.

:) well, this is one way to come out to your coworkers...

jeez. time to give my lj some love, it's been awhile.let's see..- i got into the northern arizona university mba program and got offered the peace corps fellowship, so i'm going down to flagstaff in july or august. the job i'll be doing for the fellowship sounds interesting - it's with the rural policy institute, doing research on stuff like predatory loaning practices and enterprise development in native american communities http://www.franke.nau.edu/RPI/

- my old hobbling minivan got stolen. when it was taken it had a vintage 70's couch in it and when it was recovered the couch was missing. they cut out half of the door and punched the ignition and i would have had to pay to have it towed out of the impound lot to a mechanic, so i just let them junk it in the end - wasn't worth the money to fix it. anyway, now i get around by bike. which, with gas prices being what they are, is not so bad.- i stopped canvassing and got an office job and now i live in a cubicle from 7:30am-4pm. a potato named norbert lives on my desk, along with several robots made of found objects and a large green paper mache head that is kind of medusa looking which my friend caity made for me.- i moved out of my ridiculous house with the landlord who comes over and gets drunk and yells at all hours of the night and eats my food.

- i'm gettin my serve on a little. helping teach kayaking this weekend @ canoe u on the kettle river and i signed up to volunteer with inner city outings. my friend paul is gonna put me to work on his education referendum campaign too.

- my grandma turned 80

the first rental agency wouldn't rent me a car because my card is an atm card as well as a credit card, and they need to have a straight up credit only credit card.

good thing, because the other agency - budget - which did accept a check card gave me this:

it was the cheapest thing they had, so i couldn't argue.

i proceeded to try and find two different swimming holes using my handy dandy new swimming hole guide book, but struck out both times. the road was blocked off at the first place, and the second place i just couldn't find despite hiking pretty far upstream along the bottom of the canyon where it was supposed to be. hiking in the canyon among huge boulders was still pretty awesome. when i finally found my way back to the mustang, i decided to head to red mtn.

once i was at red mtn, i noticed that i was half way to the grand canyon. 'what the hell?' i thought. i probably am coming back here for school and should have more chances to visit the big ditch, but you never know, i could go down in a plane crash on the way home. and then what a shame, not to have seen one of the seven wonders of the world before death, esp having been so close to the thing. so i drove to the outskirts of the park and slept in my mustang. the next morning i caught the sunrise:

and went for a little hike on the bright angel trail, sipping coffee

i'm sharing some yerba mate tea with a german and an argentinian at the international hostel in flagstaff. they are having a nice conversation while i tap anti-socially on my computer keyboard. i've just checked out of the hostel since you have to check out by 11am, but they are letting me keep my bag locked up here until 2pm, when my rental car is showing up. (well, to be fair i am piping in once in awhile)

at that time i plan to drive over to a swimming hole in oak canyon featured in my recently purchased book of southwestern swimming holes. unfortunately, the weather is cooler today than it has been, so i'm not sure i'll actually feel like swimming when i get there. i might just lay on the rocks and take in the scenery and read a book while soaking in the sun. and perhaps polish off a mini bottle of chardonay that my roommate left behind in the refrigerator.

i should probably back up a second and explain why i'm here - to check out the mba program at northern arizona university. i had an interview with the program coordinators on friday, and based on that i'm pretty sure i'll be accepted and offered the peace corps fellowship, which includes a tuition waiver and a small stipend. so i am probably in my future home right now.

yesterday i went to sedona, which is sort of the junior version of the grand canyon, with my hostel roommate carol and another hostel guest, sheegecko (i have no idea how you spell her name, actually, but that's how you pronounce it shee - gecko). sheegecko is from japan, and she's in the us doing the "longest walk" www.longestwalk.org . she doesn't speak that much english, but she radiates compassion. she's a nurse, and appears to be in her 50's, and wears simple linen clothes and a well-worn sunhat. she has been walking from san francisco but now has to go back to japan because her visa ran out. she plans to spend a month in japan before coming back to catch up with the group and walk the rest of the way to washington dc in solidarity with native americans.

carol is originally from china, but has been living in the us since she was 16. 2 years out of college, carole recently quit her job as a sales analyst for an environmentally-friendly pet toy company in san francisco and is on a solo road trip across the country on route 66. ( www.gonefishingunitedstates.spaces.live.com )

carol has a freewheeling and liberal air, although i found her views on the subject of tibet to be surprisingly conservative. during our dinner at a thai restaurant the night before last, she told me that the idea of tibet as an independent nation was naive, because tibet was too far behind the rest of the world and "needed so much help." she feels that the tibetan people are being used for a political agenda by those who are fighting for independence.

on our way to sedona, we stopped at oak creek canyon for a short 3 mile hike. the hike followed oak creek and we hopped across it on rocks several times. in the background were some pretty nice views of grand canyon-esque sandstone formations. the terrain was easy and gently rolling, so there were lots of families out, too, as well as a large group of school kids.

to be honest, when we entered sedona my first reaction was revulsion. the landscape was awe inspiring, but the commercialized tourist strip, complete with "pink jeep tours" and "the new age center" reminded me of the wisconsin dells injected with targeted new agey marketing. sedona is the home to 4 "vortexes," supposed "energy centers" where "the earth's energy is supposedly increased, leading to self-awareness and various kinds of healing." ( http://travel2.nytimes.com/2006/04/09/travel/09sedona.html ) . my skepticism of these vortexes does not come from a skepticism of spiritual energy, but of marketing, and of cultural appropriation. according the sheegecko, who knows a lot about native american culture, the place used to be forbidden to visit for anyone except a shaman, back in the days before the american genocide. to see it now pimped out to yuppy tourists in pink jeeps was sad to say the least. i think sedona is a good example of what happens to a beautiful natural paradise when it's not protected.

sheegecko is buddhist and had read about the vortex energy center thing, so she really wanted to check them out. we went to one called cathedral rock, and hiked up to a big flat rock from which one could see both cathedral rock and another vortex, bell rock. on the big flat rock was a new age tour group of maybe 25 people, practicing pseudo tai chi. sheegecko wanted to climb up to the top, but carole and i weren't groovin on it, so we told her we'd wait for her. she ended up coming back down shortly saying the rock got too steep for her. she asked me if i felt anything from the vortex, and i said no. she said she didn't either.

after sedona, we headed to jerome, a mountainside settlement of artists that used to be a ghost copper mining town but was revived by hippies who rebuilt it in the 70's. it reminded carole and me of european mountain towns in the alps (except with american style houses). there were probably 50 different art galleries to visit, but we just managed to see a few. we saw the jerome museum and had pizza at bordelo pizzeria "the best slice in town." it was, too. there was a very artsy, hippy, yet unpretentious vibe in the town, and though there were hundreds of tourists, there were not many of the super cheesy tourist shops (we searched for a bumper sticker that said 'jerome' for carole's car, and came up empty-handed), and it didn't feel nearly as commercialized as sedona, even though it was very commercial in its own way.

i'm at my parents' house for a fortnight, and the moonlight outside tonight is amazing. it's shining down so brightly that there is a shadow of a giant tree on the snowy slope that is my parents' lawn. it's gorgeous.

oy. i think it's gonna be a cold one tonight - the wind is biting. i don't think it's physically possible to fit any more layers on my body, but i should probably get a scarf. hopefully i will meet another interesting character to make it all worthwhile.

last time i went out canvassing there was this lady who (after the global warming question on the survey) started telling me about how she died and came back to life and how all has been evil since then. "like pet cemetary" she said.

i have this idea that once people acquire skills, they should be able to learn whatever new ones they want to by swapping their existing skills with others. when i lived in bellingham, wa i swapped whitewater kayak lessons for telemark ski lessons, which was super awesome (i'd never have the money to pay for telemark lessons). but unfortunately this got lined up just before i moved, so i only got in one lesson. anyway

things i can teach you:

kayaking (especially, but not limited to whitewater)

french (villageois style, useful in africa but guaranteed to turn up french noses (even further))

how to survive malaria with only a few battle scars

how to fail at being friends with your exes

things i am dying to learn:

drumming (djembe, drum set, whatever ya got)

dance (pretty much any style you got, but swing would be nice since it's so versatile)

business skills (financial accounting 101)

what it was like to be queer in the 1950's (firsthand account)

better guitar playing skills

how to attain enlightenment

hmmm, i guess one list is a little longer than the other...

for no apparent reason, i'm going to post the story of me attempting to cross the border between slovenia and italy without a passport about 8 years ago.

so i was in slovenia for a kayak race, and decided to go with three friends to venice for the day (it was only a 3 hour drive from where we were). i didn't think about needing my passport for a day trip, so when we got to the border i was like "shit." (i often do this columbo misplacement or forgetting of my possessions. i think i started having "senior moments" when i was 10)

on the way into italy, my friends let me out of the car ahead of time and i walked around the border and they picked me up on the other side. it worked like clock-work. but on the way back it was night, too dark to be doing that, and the border we came to was in the middle of a big flat field so there was no going around it without being seen. me and my friends decided it was a good idea for me to hide in the trunk with our smelly wet kayak gear. it was a fold-down seat, so i climbed in there without having to stop the car.

when the border police started asking questions of the driver (nick) i felt confident that he wouldn't look in the trunk, because the whole time i'd been travelling in europe our car trunk had never once been searched at a border. maybe it was the fact that the car occupants were male, or that it was late at night, i don't know. but i heard the guy ask nick to open the trunk and my heart started racing.

when he opened the trunk, i just laid there, curled in the smallest ball i could make, hoping that maybe a piece of gear was covering me sufficiently. yeah no. all the guy could see was me, i was taking up the whole trunk (i realized this after i got out). it was kind of awkward for awhile, the police dude didn't say anything, maybe he thought i was dead or something. so finally nick shook me as if i'd been sleeping and said "wake up, megan". i opened my eyes and stretched and yawned, as if i'd been sleeping. riiiight.

luckily i didn't get arrested. they just called the hotel and got my passport number from the front desk, and then searched the car top to bottom (and they were very thorough - leafing through every page of every book for example).

finally, when it was time to go, the police told me that i was now allowed to sit in the seat. we thanked them and zoomed away.

my dad and i went "nordic walking" in the woods today. we stalheims being of norwegian blood, it would seem that every step we take might be considered nordic walking, but that's not what i mean. we're talkin about a time-tested system of off-season training for cross-country skiing. we're talking about hiking with ski poles. but not just that, you have to *bound* (ala x-c ski) as you thrust your poles about.

this bounding through the woods was fun and all, but i couldn't help feeling a little silly. for one thing, my ski poles were downhill ones, so they didn' t pierce the ground. for another thing, well.. call me old fashioned, but i'm just not used to bounding when i could be walking. if anything, i could see running sooner than bounding. i'm not normally such an "inside the box" kind of person, but i guess i draw the line at bounding. i mean, why not turn cartwheels or do sommersaults down the trail? why not crawl, or walk on your hands? all of these would be more difficult than walking. but guess what, they're ridiculous. and so is bounding. then again, maybe that's how the average car driving american feels when he sees me walking or riding my bike or x-c skiing - "why doesn't she just *drive*?! or snowmobile?"

it turns out that dad is a far more seasoned nordic walker than i. climbing a hill that led to an overlook of the 2 lakes, i trekked calmly through the woods, happy to be on the trail. dad was far ahead of me, advancing in leaps and bounds. hunched over with his toes pointing out and leaping forward like a mutant biped frog, he never looked so dorky.

this is where i get it from.

i think our human race has become far too distant from nature. if not, we wouldn't be carelessly destroying it every day. every time i go for a walk i have to remind myself to be present and not to tune out nature. it only takes a bit of patience and mindfulness to stop and appreciate a tree, and to see how spiritually symbolic each tree is, with its roots solidly planted in the earth and its branches jutting skyward. my favorite thing is to lie down at the base of a large tree, put my hands behind my head, and watch the leaves dance on the branches. well, it doesn't work quite so well in the winter, but..

i've always loved trees, and i saw first-hand how much respect the traditional bamileke religion gave to trees (though sadly that is almost gone). but i hadn't realized just how big of a role trees used to play in religion until i did a little surfing on the topic. it turns out that the "world tree" is a pretty universal concept in primal religion. in myan mythology, the world tree is depicted as a ceiba tree, rooted in the everyday world, but reaching to (and holding up) the heavens. it's both a divider and a bridge between heaven and earth.

in norse myth, the world tree is an ash tree called yggdrasil which joins the nine worlds of norse mythology: alfheim, asgard, jötunheim, midgard, muspelheim, nidavellir, niflheim, svartálfaheim, and vanaheim.

yggdrasill - norse "world tree"

ceiba - mayan "world tree"

banyan - sacred tree of india

baobab - sacred african tree

september 25 - october 4: bitten by an anopholes mosquito while visiting kalim's family in the north. the reason i assume this is because there are almost no mosquitos in my village, due to the colder temperatures caused by the higher elevation.

nite, october 14: after feeling fine and working hard all day, malaria symptoms hit me full force. i get a sore throat and then a fever, chills, and dry heaves. i am hungry, but have no energy to get off my bed and cook. i am thirsty, but have not had time to fetch water during the day. i am forced to drink unpotable well water. i could ask for help from the neighbors, but of course that's not how i roll.

October 15

morning: i stagger over to my neighbor, marie's house (she's the director of the village clinic), but the kids tell me she has travelled. i have no cell phone (mine was stolen a couple of weeks back and i haven't wanted to spend money on another one just before leaving the country). it looks like the only way to get to help is to walk all the way into town (4 miles). i don't have the strength at the moment. i stagger weakly back to bed.

noon: i rouse myself and walk slowly but steadily for a mile until i arrive at my counterpart francois' house. we had a meeting for 8 am that morning, and i apologize that i couldn't make it because i couldn't get out of bed. i tell him i think i have malaria. he covers a bamboo bench with a sheet and gives me a pillow. he makes a medicinal remedy for me out of plantain leaves. he gives me fresh water and cooks lunch for us. he tells me i should not try to go into town, but should rest and recover. i refuse, saying i have to arrive in dschang tonight so i can get to bangangte the following day to teach the trainees. (this logic, or lack thereof, marks the beginning of my malaria-affected thinking, which ranges from mildly crazy overconfidence to delirium) . francois walks slowly with me into town until we find a motorcycle that takes me to amber's house where i will stay the night. he tells me to drink the rest of the half liter of plantain leaves that night.

even though it is an incomplete remedy (i should have taken the plantain leaves twice a day for 5 - 7 days), fthe brief care francois has given me is the most tender i will receive during my bout with malaria.

October 16

6am: feeling amazing, i decide francois' remedy has worked and go to see my french friend alice. she is a volunteer who works with the hospital doing accounting. i want to make sure i get there before she heads off to work. we end up talking for hours, until her friend marion comes. marion is a new volunteer who will be helping with an agricultural school near my post, so there is a lot of potential for collaboration between her and my replacement.

2pm: buy a cell phone

3pm: travel to bangangte, the training venue

8pm: we receive a call from the Peace Corps Medical Officer, Ann, in Yaounde. she says i need to go directly to the hospital in bangangte. even though i don't have any major malaria symptoms (just fatigue) i comply. i realize that i am not being hospitalized for malaria when no blood is drawn from me. because i am in an altered mental state, i am very scared and confused as to what is happening and why. no one elxplains why they are interogating me, or why they are not testing me for malaria when i know that i have it.

they try to no avail to get me to accept an injection of an amber colored fluid in my arm. i don't know or trust the people at this hospital, and they are not wearing hospital clothes. i don't know what the injection really is. they have asked me many questions about kalim and about drug use, so i think maybe they are testing me to see if i will accept the injection of strange drugs into my body. i refuse the injection, eventually running away to find the director of the hospital to see what he thinks about this thing they are trying to inject into me. i am eventually given an injection in my butt. i am not told what this substance is or why i am receiving it. it's white and viscous, and looks like glue. it seems very wrong to me that someone would put such a thing in my body. i am locked alone in a room all night and experience stress, fever, and dellusions by myself. the lights are on, and i only realize just before dawn that the switch is in my power to control. i get perhaps one hour of sleep after this.

the memory of this hospital will scar and haunt me long after my malaria is gone, and make me wary of all doctors and nurses.

October 17 - 28: hospitalization in yaounde. i am very reluctant to let the doctors touch me or draw blood from me after my experience in bangangte. the blood test shows my blood to be full of malaria, and i am treated accordingly. i am also given valium, several other drugs i don't know the function of, and a very strong and bad drug called haldol without my knowledge. these are given to me for the same reason i was hospitalized in bangangte: because peace corps has observed "crazy" behaviour in me, and they have decided that i am a drug abuser and need treatment for my delusions. (my delusions, which started during my hospitalization in bangangte were probably induced by malaria. however, delusions are rarely experienced by people with malaria unless its cerebral. this is probably why doctors look elsewhere for an explanation for my psychotic episodes.)

during my hospital stay, i can't sleep at night and often try to get the nurse in my room to sleep on my bed while i sleep on her mat on the floor, thereby reversing the white-black power structure. i become convinced that one of my nurses is condoleza rice under-cover, and marvel at her pidgin speaking abilities. this nurse becomes my favorite, and i call her "big mami," which means "grandmother" in pidgin. my parents receive disturbing phone calls from me on my cell phone in the middle of the night and we have delusional conversations that i don't recall. they don't know what is going on and are very frightened until peace corps finally calls them and fills them in on what's happening.

October 28: i am released from the hospital and made to fly to the united states 5 hours later. there is no chance given to me for mental recovery in-country as peace corps has already decided i am too crazy to be treated anywhere but the u.s., and incapable of working. i am not told and do not realize i am leaving for good. kalim comes to peace corps headquarters to say goodbye just before i leave for the airport.

October 29 - November 13: in spite of the fact that my mental state is improving every day, i am coerced into a hospitalization in the psych ward of sibley hospital in dc. i am not permitted to go outside without doctor's permission (and doctors deny permission for the first several days) and an escort by a visitor, or even open a window and breathe fresh air. i am very frightened when i am taken to the psych ward and made to sign a form, because i think that i will be locked in this place forever and driven insane, like in the movies. once i arrive in the secured section of the ward, my parents are escorted in to see me. this makes me feel much less scared.

the psychiatrist will not hear about the bangangte hospital, and tells me i'm delusional when i talk about it and need more medication to calm me down. the one day that i do talk about it, he ups my lithium dose and prolongs my stay in the hospital to two weeks. technically, i could have left but i would be terminating my peace corps service and personally liable for the extravagent hospitalization expenses by leaving. peace corps finally gives me a blood test and determines that i'm not a user of narcotics. i am diagnosed with bi-polar disorder, but disagree wholly with that diagnosis, and have never before or since experienced bi-polar symptoms.

while i am in the psych ward, i meet some very interesting people. one of the other patients (although both of us refer to ourselves as "inmates" because we are not here voluntarily) and i conspire to co-author a zine called "the mighty manics." the art therapist is a very kind sould, and the only staff in the place who i feel i can talk to without being invalidated. she looks at my pictures from peace corps online with me and encourages me to express my anger and frustration with the psychiatrist, power structures, and western medicine in general - through art.

november 14: appointment with yet another psychologist, in wausau. his theory is that i am suffering from ptsd, and wants to treat it with rapid eye movement treatment. at first he seems more open to my experience but then i realize he is just putting me in his box like all the other doctors have done.

november 15: my first day of peace - with no doctor looking at me through his microscope - since bangangte. i am resting at my parents' home in the wisconsin countryside near the little black river with their dog, bandit. finally i feel i am in a place where i can start to heal.

just a quick little update: i had a bad case of malaria - that'll teach me not to forget to take my profalaxis (sp?), eh?

but now i'm just fine. people think i'm a little too crazy tho, so they're sending me to dc to see a psychiatrist. yay, i love psychiatrists. they're always so... interested in my thoughts ;)

me and one of the nurses, francoise.

for pictures from my hospital stay, click below:

PCVs come to visit

a woman who was staying with her sick husband in the room next to mine. she is the president of an AIDS orphan program. when i get back to yaounde i am going to visit the orphanage she runs.

me and Solange, one of the nurses

me and the doc and nurse team the last morning of my 10 day hospital stay

Solange, Genevieve, and me in the office

kalime and his mom in the village where he grew up - aren't they the cutest thing ever? his mom has no money but wanted to welcome me, so she cooked for us and gave me a kilo of sesame from her field as a gift to take back home.

kalime and his baba. he can't hear very well but he communicated with me pretty well with sign language, holding up a confident fist of power every time he saw me approaching the compound. i love how here a son can hold his father like this and not be scared that someone will think he's fruity. love should be expressed however it comes to you, right?

swimming in the river near kalime's house. cows just upstream threaten giardia, but who cares? :) sorry mom, shaved my head again. c'mon, isn't is just a little cute?

these kids are all kalime's nieces and nephews. we did a song exchange in which they sang a local song and then i sang them "africa unite". ("africa unite! cuz we're movin right out of babylon." one of my favorite songs) unfortunately they don't speak english, only fulfulde, so they didn't get the message to move right out of babylon quite. they just might have found zion on their own, tho.