Peace Corps Journals

"What is Africa to Me?" Clinton Etheridge

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-02-10 05:54:00

A fellow Gambia RPCV and staff member for Peace Corps Washington DC posted this touching story about an African American man who served in The Gambia as a teacher from 1970-1972. He recently took a trip back to The Gambia with his daughters (and grand daughter), after his wife passed away. He ponders how his four year old grand daughters perception will change after visiting Africa, and also

Sunday Sendoff

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Samoa Words from the South Pacific

2012-02-10 05:13:00

If there was ever a day that perplexed me in Samoa, it was Sunday. From my first weeks in the country, it had always proved to be a day that was both anticipated with excitement, yet dreaded like the plague. It was anticipated for the down time it provided: Samoa shuts down on Sundays, and thus everybody slows down, including me. It was a great day to write letters, catch up on reading, or just take a nap. As I came to know the kids better, many of them would wander up to my house in the afternoons to visit and hang out.

But on the other hand, I never felt completely comfortable with Sunday. In the beginning when I was homesick, it meant a whole day of sitting around, thinking of how much I wanted to be at home. Sundays also seemed to always be the hottest day of the week, but maybe I just never slowed down enough on the other days to realize how hot the rest of the week was. Nonetheless, Sunday was hot, and since it was mostly spent in the house, it meant a lot of sweating!

My last Sunday in Samoa was on December 11, 2011. The morning arrived like every other Sunday, with the smell of smoke in the air as every family prepared their umu (oven) for their Sunday toanai —the big feast followed by church service. Looking down over my village, the sight of thick smoke often made me wonder if there wasn’t a huge plume of smoke visible over all of Samoa from outer space. It was like a whole country sending up distress signals to someone from above.

After I had gotten dressed, I began walking over to the Catholic Church. I walked past my neighbor’s house and just like every week before, they asked me the rhetorical question, “Are you going to church?” Samoans always state the obvious, not to be flip, but just as their way of making small talk. I continued down the steep hill into the village as I noticed all the kids in their Sunday best. I came to love that walk over to the church. When I was homesick, I had started the tradition of humming my favorite church hymns on my way over, and this stuck as part of my Sunday ritual, even until that last Sunday. Since the mass at the Catholic Church was always in Samoan, I guess it was my way of offering up some songs in English.

I climbed up the steep cement steps to the threshold of the church and did a 90 degree turn to my right to look out over that beautiful ocean, for I anticipated that the following week, the scenery would be completely different. It grabbed a hold of me, and I sat down out front for a few minutes to take in the sights, sounds and emotions. A few minutes later I walked in and took my regular seat on the left side of pews, next to the older lady who always wore the “Samoa” barrette in her hair. A couple of my students from school who are altar boys came over and sat on the other side of me. They didn’t even say a word to me—they just looked at me with a smile of reassurance, and we both knew what the other was thinking—this was it!

Church began, and I tried my best to soak in the last hymns sung in their beautiful language. Although I didn’t understand all the verses, it never mattered. Music is a universal language.

The priest began the mass with the usual opening, but then took a moment to recognize me and remind the congregation that it was my last Sunday with them. Throughout the whole mass he included me in the prayers and made me feel welcomed, just as he had made me feel each and every week I was there. As church continued, I had to hold back tears, trying not to think of everything that was going to change, but instead just focusing on being with these people on that particular day.

In Samoa, it is always tradition for the priest, and other senior elders of the church to receive a flower ula (lei/necklace) just before the start of the Eucharistic prayer. For many weeks, I had received an ula as well, and my final Sunday was no different, when one of the ladies walked over and draped it over my shoulders.

At the end of church, the priest took a moment to speak about my two years in their village, and give a thank you to me. His thanks ended with an applause by the entire congregation. I had always felt a part of their faith community, and most especially on that last day.

Following church, I was invited to a huge feast that had been prepared by several families in the village. It was attended by all the women from the church committee, as well as all the matai (high chiefs) from the church, and of course Fr. Mikaele, our priest. I had heard a few rumors about the party for me in the days leading up to it, but I had no idea it was going to be as formal and elaborate as it was.

When I arrived at the open fale (house) and saw all the woven mats placed precisely around the perimeter, I knew we were going to have an Ava Ceremony. Ava Ceremonies are given on formal occasions for meetings of matai, or when welcoming or saying goodbye to someone in the village. In fact, my first ceremony was with all my other Peace Corps Volunteers, just a few hours after we arrived in the country back in 2009. On this Sunday in December, I was having my last.

I was invited to sit in the highest place of honor, where the priest normally would sit. Two years ago that all would have felt so uncomfortable, but on this occasion, I felt like one of them!

Soon after the Ava Ceremony had finished, the women started shuffling around outside the fale and I knew the food was about to arrive. The priest and myself were served first, with several plates of food placed before us. It was one of the biggest meals I had seen in Samoa. There was fish, lobster, chicken soup, chicken curry, fried chicken, hot dogs, pig and corn beef. There were bananas, breadfruit, taro, and palusami (made from the coconut milk and delicious). As soon as all of us were served, the prayer was said and then the women came to sit in front of us as they fanned our food to keep the flies away.

After our meal, I was given the chance to say a few words to everyone gathered. I began my remarks by addressing everyone present in order of their “ranking,” similar to how we would welcome the guest of honor first, at our ceremonies and gatherings. I gave them all thanks for welcoming me into their village, lives and church for the past two years. I thanked them for their prayers and told them they would be in mine. I never prepared any of my words ahead of time, but my language skills seemed to flow well in that moment while I was in the spotlight. After I had finished, one of their high chiefs gave a final thank you.

The afternoon kept me just as busy as the morning had. I attended afternoon church service at the other church in my village. Although I hadn’t attended that church as much, I was still very close to the pastor and his wife, and of course all the people who made up the congregation. After that service, I was again invited for a meal! By this time my stomach was stretching to its limits, but I ate quite a bit, knowing much of this food I may never eat again. The meal was followed by another round of thank you speeches from the high chiefs of that church, and another thank you by me.

The evening was spent walking through the village, while visiting more families and kids. That night, I did the majority of my packing to prepare to leave my house later in the week, but as I did, I was thinking back on that day I had lived. There I had been, a 27 year old, eating with high chiefs from a Pacific Island country, speaking their language, wearing their clothes, sitting in their highest place of honor. The following week I was going to be Joe Shmoe, but on that day, my last Sunday in Samoa, I had enjoyed feeling a bit like royalty.

The reflection of coconut trees in muddy water on my walk to church.

Men from the church, presenting pigs to the priest and high chiefs at the end of our meal.

With the pastor and high chiefs from the other church in my village.

Wearing my ula, which I had been given at church on my last Sunday in Samoa.

English Club Members

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Botswana I'm Gonna Find My Way

2012-02-10 05:00:00

There are so many English members in the library

They are wearing their school uniform

They are with their beautiful teachers

I like to be an English member so that I can be able to say anything in English

I would like to encourage English members to go on with their club.

I am so happy about what I have seen in the library.

Many students in the library are smiling.

There are many books in the library.

By Kagiso Jelankoo, Form 1 Student

[In English club I like to have writing workshops every now and then. Some of the students' work is cute, funny, and/or impressive, so I'm sharing it with you. Keep in mind that English is these students' second, third, or even fourth language. I am posting these exactly as written, including misspellings and other grammar/language mistakes.]

Found in Translation

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Guatemala Tal Vez en Cuando

2012-02-10 04:51:00

The local park guards are the sincerest guys I know here. After awhile I came to realize that we have a mutual appreciation, and a similar viewpoint about the work we're all doing. People like them have kept me going when things seem pointless.

A few months ago I got a formal request from them, typed, printed, and addressed in an envelope, which was hand delivered to me. These are not guys who are exactly computer saavy or into writing things down, so it was pretty touching that they took me so seriously, even if it was a request for money (basically).

I'll share it just to give you a taste of the culture here, and the formality used in written communications:

[my name here]
Peace Corps Volunteer
Municipality of [my site here]
Present

By means of the present receive the warmest greetings on the part of the park guards of [my site here], at the same time we wish to desire you every type of success in your daily labor.

WE THE BELOW SIGNED all majority of age, Guatemalans, holding the title of Municipal Park Guards of the municipality of [my site here] of the department of [my department here], BEFORE YOU RESPECTFULLY direct ourselves in order to expound the following: FIRST: That it is of your knowledge that our work is practiced in the communal forest of the municipality in order to maintain and watch over the forests of our municipality, for which it is necessary to carry mountain backpacks in order to carry medicines for first aid and others. SECOND: For the reasons written above, and with all the respect that you deserve as a Peace Corps Volunteer in the municipality of [my site, department], at the same time we solicit to your good person and willingness that you would help us by donating three mountain backpacks.

Without anything else to add for you, we thank your fine attention and understanding.

Attentively,

[names and signatures of 3 park guards]

...to me it sounds pretty funny translated nearly literally into English! I've realized that my spoken Spanish is also quite a bit more formal than I speak in English, basically it´s natural to be a sponge and repeat whatever style of language you hear.

We could speculate on why written language, and even public spoken discourse, are so formal here ... vestiges of Spanish colonialism? acquisition of Spanish as a second language used mostly to speak with strangers and write formal documents? influence on Spanish from the local Mayan language? It's so interesting to reflect on the way that culture influences language -- and hey, vice versa, right?!

(And if you're wondering, I found a local outfitter: one backpack will cost $65, approximately 1/4 of their monthly salaries. I´m trying to convince them to solicit the bags from the new mayor, because I think it´s important people rely on their local systems when possible - and our town hall is in pretty good shape. But if they decide not to, it´s going to be hard to say no to such an earnest request!)

Dandelions & Fireflies

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Mongolia Emma in Mongolia

2012-02-10 04:44:00

A picture of Glacial Park, Illinois, in the wintertime.

Day Six Hundred & Fifteen
Friday, February 10th 2012

Whereas January seemed to trudge on in an exhausted state of lethargy, February seems to be trotting along at a comfortable & more enlivened canter. As it turns out, life is made all the more sweeter by having events to look forward to, particularly those in the near future. After next week's classes (& 30 minute sessions on Friday the 17th, instead of our normal 40 minute lessons), we are given a full week (plus two weekends) of vacation time for Цагаан Сар, or Tsaagan Sar, translating into “White Moon” from Mongolian. Afterward, several weeks of classes will result in another week-long break near the end of March or beginning of April (I don't know yet) to mark the end of another quarter. Shortly thereafter, I will be traveling to UB for the Peace Corps COS (Closure of Service) conference, which falls during the week of Monday, April 16th lasting through that Friday (but I will probably leave on the 13th & return something like the 23rd if I can manage it).

By my shaky calculations (counting being by no means my forte), I believe we are currently in the sixth of the Nine Nines, a Mongolian system of cultural lore used to pass the agonizing sub-zero deluge of freezing temperatures for seemingly insurmountable periods of time. The Nine Nines are nine sets of nine days which begin on the winter solstice (which this year was the 22nd of December, 2011) & commence with the end of winter. If I am not mistaken, we entered into the sixth of the Nine Nines this past Saturday, & we should be moving right along into the seventh Nine on Monday. Suffice to say, the worst is over, & that is nothing short of divine.

The Nine Nines
1st Nine: Shimijn arkhi (mild alcoholic beverage made of mare's milk) congeals
2nd Nine: Arkhi (vodka) congeals
3rd Nine: The tail of three-year-old ox freezes
4th Nine: The horns of four-year-old ox freeze
5th Nine: Boiled rice does not congeal anymore
6th Nine: The roads blacken
7th Nine: The hilltops blacken
8th Nine: The ground becomes damp
9th Nine: Warmer days set in
To read an article on the topic, please visit:
http://www.mongoliatoday.com/issue/2/winter.html

Speaking of the Nine Nines, I can safely say that from my particular vantage point smack dab in the center of the Gobi desert during the 6th Nine, the roads have not blackened. Why? Because there are no roads. However, according to this folklore, some time in the next week & a half, the hilltops are supposed to black, & being situated near the breathtaking backdrop of the Gurvan Saikhan mountain range (which translates to “The Three Beauties” from Mongolian), I will be on the lookout for darker peaks, though the current snow-capped appearance is quite picturesque. With a little help from an online day counter calculator, it appears as though winter's grand & welcomed conclusion is set for March 12th, 2012.

I am thinking about America in a more or less balanced manner lately, attempting to reconcile my sense of anticipation for my return with the reality that life is not quite the idyllic fairytale I imagine it to be, & my return might not be as romantic as I hope. I spoke with a close volunteer friend of mine, Sarah, on the phone last night a little bit about this. She mentioned a very good point in saying that it won't really “hit us” until after we've been home for a while. This makes sense. I imagine the first few days, weeks, or perhaps months will be exciting & new. However, after the novelty wears off & life sets in once again, it might be the case that we (myself & other returning volunteers) will find ourselves disliking those very same things we gladly left behind when we came to Mongolia nearly two years ago. Consumerism. Advertisements. Fast-paced life. Reading news headlines about who was murdered & how, what new super-virus will certainly destroy us all, why you & I & everyone should be afraid, be very afraid.

To quote from Jack Kornfield's “A Path with Heart” once again: “The impoverished myths & songs of our culture are sold everywhere: they myth of materialism & possessiveness that says worldly goods lead to happiness; the myth of competition & individualism which produces so much isolation; the myth of achievement & success, which leads to what Joseph Campbell called 'climbing the ladder only to discover it was against the wrong wall'; & the myth of youth, which produces a culture of eternal adolescence & advertising images as our model of reality.”

I mentioned to Sarah that I felt old here, as though I came to Mongolia looking younger than my age, & now I look easily four years older. It helped to hear her say that she felt the same (using colorful adjectives like “haggard” in her description), but it helped even more to hear her say that the effects of this dry & barren climate, this dull & unimaginative diet, this difficult & at times nearlly impossible lifestyle – the effects are not permanent. She recently took a wonderful vacation to Malaysia, & she told me quite clearly that the positive effects were immediate. A little humidity in the air, a couple dozens of degrees warmer, a diet rich in vitamins, minerals, & nutrients, hydration, & the ability to relax, really does the body good.

Today the temperature hovers somewhere around 9°F, though I have some mild doubts about how accurate this reading is (I check a website, & I cannot be sure it is updated with any veracity). When I happen to see that Chicago is enjoying temperatures in the mid-30s on some days, I must admit, I find myself twinging with mild envy. Temperatures even slightly above or below that point would feel warm to me these days, particularly after experiencing nights where the temperature outside is easily -25°F. Fifty degrees warmer back home at 25°F? I'd take that any day.

I have been experiencing sudden bursts of thought lately, completely unrelated to what I am currently doing or thinking. I'd liken them to flashbacks, but they are overwhelmingly positive & hope-filled in nature. I had forgotten about the scent of the spring rain, the way the air feels heavy & electric just before a thunderstorm, the earthworms escaping from the soil. I can picture a street in Woodstock, one of my favorite places in the world, from the perspective underneath a canopy of tree branches, a gentle rain softly falling onto the road. It must be spring, because the pavement is covered in the pollen from a certain type of tree whose name I do not know.

I had forgotten the coming of summer marked irrevocably in the emergence of dandelions by day & fireflies by night, bright & radiant. They remind me of childhood, & I can remember the day my mother informed me, much to my dismay, that dandelions were considered weeds. I recall the feeling of being barefoot, the grass soft & new & alive beneath my footfalls. I can almost experience the taste of a vine-ripened tomato, still warm from the sun, picked only moments before from the crescent moon-shaped garden in the front yard of my home.

Down the drain

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Macedonia Across the sidewalk

2012-02-10 04:33:06

One of G’s favorite things to do is to play with monies. She has a little jar of them. Yesterday A asks me if I have seen her 2 Euro coin. There goes her college fund.

Excerpt from Slaughterhouse-Five

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Mongolia Emma in Mongolia

2012-02-10 04:35:00

Day Six Hundred & Fifteen
Friday, February 10th 2012

In his work, “A Path with Heart,” Jack Kornfield writes “In Kurt Vonnegut's novel Slaugtherhouse-Five, there is a description of what happens when one night a World War II movie is accidentally shown backward.”

“American planes, full of holes & wounded men & corpses, took off backwards from an airfield in England. Over France, a few German fighter planes flew at them backwards, sucked bullets & shell fragments from some of the planes & crewmen. They did the same for wrecked American bombers on the ground, & those planes flew up backwards to join the formation.

The formation flew backwards over a German city that was in flames. The bombers opened their bomb bay doors, exerted miraculous magnetism which shrunk the fires, gathered them into cylindrical steel containers, & lifted the containers into the bellies of the planes. The containers were stored neatly in racks. . . . There were still a few wounded Americans, though, & some of the bombers were in bad repair. Over France, though, German fighters came up again, made everything & everybody as good as new.

When the bombers got back to the base, the steel cylinders were taken from the racks & shipped back to the United States, where factories were operating day & night, dismantling the cylinders, separating the dangerous contents into minerals. Touchingly, it was mainly women who did the work. The minerals were then shipped to specialists in remote areas. It was their business to put them into the ground, to hide them cleverly, so they would never hurt anybody again.”

Recent Escapades to Random Temples

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Cambodia Cambodian Escapades

2012-02-10 03:46:00

I don't have too much time to write, so I've decided to put up a few pictures and videos from recent escapades to random temples.

Me at a temple.

Libby at a temple.

A giant Buddha...at a temple.

A party tuk tuk?

A little bird.

A little temple.

I was looking through some other blogs of volunteers in Mongolia...

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Mongolia Ramblin' in Mongolia

2012-02-10 04:11:10

The site-mates

Even some basic veggies go a long way

Aimag life

I was looking through some other blogs of volunteers in Mongolia and I found a blog post that I found interesting. It was about the differences between the Peace Corps Volunteers’ lives and what some volunteers refer to as the “Posh Corps” life. In a globilizing and developing world, there are less an less Peace Corps assignments that fit the “lives in a mud hut, bathes in the river, get assaulted by bugs all day, and wears a loin cloth” picture that so many Americans associate with Peace Corps service. Now obviously Mongolia is a whole different can of worms when it comes to Peace Corps service. Many volunteers live in tents made from sheep wool, the few rivers are frozen most of the year, bugs can’t survive most of the year, and you certainly wouldn’t last very long in just a loin cloth. However, I don’t want to talk about the differences in Peace Corps service among different countries as I only can speak confidently on life in Mongolia. I am trying to talk about some of the differences that many volunteers have with other volunteers even though they live in the same country. In our PC issued cookbook we call it the Hodoo (countryside) Corps verses the Posh Corps.

Now there are grey areas as to whether you live the hodoo life or a posh life. However, stereotypically, posh corps pcvs live in aimag centers. We live in apartments, have central heating, running water, have a toilet, have more choices when it comes to groceries, have restaurants we can go to if we are feeling lazy in the kitchen, we have a kitchen, normally have other volunteers in their city so they aren’t completely alone, etc. However, the “posh corps” life is not without its challenges or differences. For instance, I have two site-mates who live in gers and don’t have my household luxuries. In apartments, heating doesn’t turn on until the the end of October and it is well past cold at that point. Apartment dwellers have no way to heat up their home like a ger dweller does. The PC supplies us with small space heaters but in my experience they are better at blowing out the old wiring than heating a room. I am lucky in that there is a wood stove in my kitchen so this last fall wasn’t painful for me. Water in apartments is almost always hooked up to the heating. This means that when the heating is off, you must heat your water in a boiler. Although this isn’t a problem in Dundgovi, many parts of Mongolia suffer from frequent power outages. When the power goes out so does the water and heat. When the heat is on the water is too hot to touch. When I shower, I fill up a large Mongolian bucket called a tuumpen and then wait 15 minutes for it to cool. Then I take a tuumpen shower in my bathroom. In my personal situation, I benifit from running water in my kitchen. However, there are no pipes that lead out of my kitchen. Forgeting to empty the large bucket under the sink is easier than you would imagine. I have found it hard to limit my water usage when it flows so freely. As for my toilet, organic solids won’t even go down without some assistance most of the time. Not pretty. Here in Mongolia, we call all these issues I have “Posh Corps problems.”

Life living in a soum is undoubtedly a different experience. One aspect that I would have underestimated before coming here would be the isolation. Transportation within Mongolia is always difficult and I never knew how refreshing it would be to see an American face every day or two. My heart goes out to the soumers who are feeling the craving for Western stimulation. In a developing Mongolia, all but around a dozen soumers having the option of purchasing internet in their homes. These dozen are truly roughing it in the PC Mongolia. I’m sure these soums don’t have a post office either and no internet definitely means no supplies. All PCVs living in Mongolia can be reached on their cell phone at any time. Soumers almost always live in gers and must rely on the language skills more than a volunteer living in a aimag center. I really wouldn’t have to speak Mongolian if I didn’t want to. As some what of a self proclaimed health nut, the food choices would be one of the hardest things for me if I lived in a soum. Now I don’t exactly have a huge selection, I can consistently get carrots, peppers, tomatoes, and cucumbers, and if I want to spend all my money really quickly, grapes. Another expensive luxury I can occasionally indulge in are bananas and watermelon. Some soumers are limited to onions, potatoes, cabbage, apples, and garlic. Green vegetables were definitely something I was craving at the end of my summer living in Javkhlant soum.

All this being said, there is a mindset to hodoo vs posh corps life. Also, apt life is always easier than ger life. Your Peace Corps service is what you make of it. Both volunteers living in soums and aimag centers can go to UB and purchase appliances from China that remind them of their life in America. Want a blender? Go buy it in UB. Want a 82 inch flat screen TV? You can get that in UB too. You can buy frozen or canned vegetables in UB and most other foods you are currently craving. Everyone has different challenges here depending on their habits, personality, expectations, etc. I lost my computer in December and I have decided to not purchase a new one. I want to move my life towards a more “hoodoo” level. That being said, as long as nothing goes drastically wrong, I will be moving into a ger at the end of this upcoming spring. I look forward to the new challenges! More information to follow on this topic.

Weeks 18-22: …the weeks I became Indiana Jones

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Peru The Musings of Jeen

2012-02-10 04:13:17

So much, yet so little, has happened since I last posted. I’m never really sure what to write about so I always try to pick the MAJOR points about the weeks that my posts cover…but this time I don’t feel like anything major really happened. Life here is very tranquilo, and I’m still not used [...]

New York City books bleg

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

South Africa The Orbital

2012-02-10 03:29:00

Some time ago I finished The Power Broker, on the recommendation of Kevin Drum, and I think I agree that it's the best nonfiction book I've ever read. So good that I'm still mulling over the lessons therein, and trying to think up a good post on it.

But it left me wondering. At the end of the book New York is nearly a smoking ruin. Yet I lived there for a time in 2008-2009 and it was actually quite pleasant. Well governed, at least by US standards.
So does anyone know of a good book that could bring me up to present day, and tell me how on Earth they manage to salvage the place? I would be most grateful.

Out of breath...

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Mozambique back to the drawing board...

2012-02-10 03:16:00

I just went for my first run since coming back to the states...

Note to self: Even if you are still mentally ready to run over two miles, after three months of not running and gaining 20 lbs., your body probably isn't.

I've showered, had half a liter of water, and been sitting down for 10 minutes but my lungs still can't seem to get enough air. I can still think pretty straight though.

So much for mind over body.

Quick-Change

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Saint Vincent and the Grenadines Camille in the Caribbean

2012-02-10 03:56:12

Definition of QUICK-CHANGE. : that changes quickly or that is adapted to changing or being changed quickly (as from one function to another) A few days ago, our trusty community leader Mr. Derrick called asking me to be at the Beach Front restaurant on Thursday evening. In a gesture of community support and healing, we would be walking [...]

A Delusion

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Indonesia Right2Create

2012-02-10 03:12:00

A Delusion

At the moment I love you

I knew if I only fantasizing

But what I think

My heart is injured

Because there is only

A delusion in my life

Now I can just forget it

It’s only a delusion

The impossible can become reality

If all be true

Whether what I do

What I able to accept

But it was not possible

Because in my life

Just image

To love you…..

-Windy Yuli Susanti

MAN Mojosari, XI IPA 1

My Memories

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Indonesia Right2Create

2012-02-10 03:13:00

My Memories

Bitter but hard to forget

Beautiful, but not memorable

Let bygones be bygones

Let the wind like dust

The pain was…….

A sense of disappointment that……

Is always imagined in my mind

With what I forgot???

I want to get up……

I want to forget everything……

Tears as if not able to

My weir to hold all my pain

Sacrifice, patience, and sincerity I’ve done

For the sake forget the wonderful memories

Which always tortured me

Given all these things

I’ve managed to forget

Forgetting all the memories

Ever in my life……

-Windy Yuli Susanti

MAN Mojosari, XI IPA

...America, America, God Shed His Grace on Thee...

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Gambia, The Journey to The Gambia

2012-02-10 03:31:00

So here I am, finishing up a 3 week vacation in the great land of America!

Here are some highlights:

1. Visiting with my beloved family

The first shock was that my nieces and nephews have grown so much!!! Thankfully they all remembered me and were excited to see me. Noah, the youngest (in yellow) took the longest to warm up to as he was only 6 months old when I last saw him. Speaking of Noah, I found myself speaking to him in Mandinka (the local language I speak in The Gambia). Why? Because subconsciously I thought, "I'm not hearing him speak English, so he must speak Mandinka!"

I thoroughly enjoyed my time with my family:

I cooked with my mom
Worked out with my dad (he swam while I ran/biked)
Shopped with my mom and sisters
Babysat nieces and nephews
Went to a "tea party" at my grandma's where I was able to share my African experiences with 5 of my grandma's friends
Visited my aunt Mitzi and Tatum
Took a car trip with my 2 sisters to visit Grandma Washburn (see below)
Just hung out with family. :)

2. My sisters and I visited Grandma Washburn

It was really good to see her again as it is likely the last time I'll see her. Her health is deteriorating (although she looks GREAT in this picture) and hospice is just trying to make her comfortable. She has such faith and comfort in knowing the Person of Jesus Christ. It's inspiring. I feel honored to have her as a grandmother.

My time here in America has been restful, relaxing, and fun. God knew what I needed and who I needed to see and talk to. I am so thankful to the support network that God has raised up around me for such a time as this. Well, tomorrow I begin my return journey to The Gambia. I am restored and recharged to begin this 2nd year of my Peace Corps experience.

Thank you family and friends for your love and support. It means so much more than you know! May God bless you abundantly!

Stay tuned for more African updates!!!

Adventures in Corporal Punishment

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Botswana I'm Gonna Find My Way

2012-02-10 02:58:00

Note: This post has been a long time in the making. Peace Corps volunteers are ~~instructed~~ encouraged to only write about positive things, or to write about negative things in a positive way. However, this is an issue that makes it increasingly harder for me to be engaged and motivated at work. In fact, it’s an issue that makes me not even want to go to work. I trust that my readers know all the wonderful things about

Botswana

and will not let this aspect of the culture taint their opinion of the country and its people.

Today during morning assembly, in a classroom behind us, I heard a repetitive “thwack, thwack, thwack.” I instinctively knew what it was, but in a rare optimistic moment I chose to believe otherwise. After five minutes, I couldn’t stand it anymore and peeked around the lockers to find: a teacher beating his students. Without knowing (or caring) the students’ supposed infractions, I turned to the group of teachers next to me and declared, “I am not going to stand here while he beats students. It’s disgusting.”

They laughed at me.

“And you know what? It’s not funny either. It’s horrible,” I replied. Then, in typical Tess fashion, I tossed my hair and stormed off, doing my best haughty runway walk.

I might have been abler to take this episode in stride, had I not experienced something similar yesterday.

Yesterday was one of those sporadic occasions where I was early to work. Homeroom and attendance starts at 7:30, but this day I walked onto the school compound around 7:10. Students were dashing toward the front gate, which confused me – school didn’t start for 20 minutes. One of the HODs (Head Of Department) had students in a line, and he was taking a long, thin stick and beating each one on his back for being “late.” Yes, you read that right. Being 20 minutes early for school is a punishable offense. Not to mention, many of these children are orphans, impoverished, and taking care of multiple younger siblings. I often wonder if the teachers ever consider how difficult it must be to take care of three young children, then walk a full 45 minutes to school and still be on time.

I covered my ears (the sound of stick against skin makes me sick) and yelled at him, “But it’s only 7:10!” and briskly walked to the staff room. Want to know how many teachers were at work? One. I doubt anyone was beating them for being late.

The fact is that you can’t escape corporal punishment in Botswana. There is a quote from the Bible that people here use as a defense: Spare the rod and spoil the child. (Thanks a lot, Jesus.) It is used at home and at school, and more often than not parents feel that their children probably deserve whatever punishment they are given at school.

The worst case of corporal punishment I’ve experienced happened last year. A random locker check revealed that some students had alcohol, knives, condoms, and dagga (weed) in their lockers. Stupid? Yes. Illegal? Yes. So the school got the Kgosi (the chief) involved in their discipline. The way these adults decided to handle it was to hold a special assembly for the entire student body. The Kgosi brought a stick almost the width and length of a cane and beat the students, one by one, until they bled. He then used that same stick, without cleaning it, on the next student. Because, obviously, in a country with a 30% HIV rate, it’s really smart to be mixing people’s blood.

I didn’t see the beatings – I learned of them from the other teachers. As soon as I understood what was going to happen, I tried to talk to the school head, to tell her that this wasn’t the best way to handle the situation, but she blatantly ignored me, and so I left. I live a fifteen-minute walk away from the school, and I could hear the students yelling and jeering at their unfortunate peers’ all the way up to my front door – like some kind of perverted carnival, or a 16^th-century hanging in the town square. It made me literally nauseous, and I boycotted work the rest of the week.

But why, if the teachers, parents, and local authorities feel it’s okay, am I so adamantly against corporal punishment?

The students of Motswakhumo do not perform well academically. Our pass rate for the entire school is around 50%, even though getting a 50% on an exam is considered passing. Kids don’t want to come to school. I’m not blaming corporal punishment for the students’ low grades (there are a hundred other factors) but I do think that in order for youth to thrive they need to feel safe in their environment. It’s hard to feel safe when teachers walk around carrying sticks, and can beat students at their own discretion, whether it’s an incident of bullying or a student being punished because someone stole his notebook (true story).

More relevantly, I find it completely against my moral principles. There is no scientific proof that corporal punishment works. It’s just a way for teachers to use students as a sounding-board for their frustration and as a show of power. It honestly kills me inside to work at a school where teachers demand respect from students that they then refuse to return.

I’ve had some minor successes on the issue. Some teachers have come up to me and started a discussion on how things are different in America. (Note: in these discussions, I always start off by saying that in some states, corporal punishment is still legal.) One of my favorite teachers, Mr. Kgogobi, has stopped using the method, and when I see him with a stick he assures me, “I am only carrying it to scare them – I don’t beat.” When I see a teacher going to beat a child, I ask him or her if she has filled out all the proper paperwork and submitted it to the head teacher, which usually stops them in their tracks (or if not, at least shows the students that there is protocol that the teachers should be following). After the horrible incident last year, one of the HODs apologized to me at the staff briefing. Although it was a fake apology – “we’re sorry that you were offended” – at least I brought some awareness.

Despite these few, small steps, I’m pretty hopeless that there will be true change. Teachers ask me how I was disciplined as a child, and I explain to them about after-school detention, suspension, and community service. But teachers won’t agree to supervise detention or community service without extra pay, of which there’s no chance of getting. And suspension? Students would only be too happy not to have to go to school – and their families would be relieved to have extra help around the house.

I suppose this gives a bleak outlook on the situation, but I don’t really see a way that I can sugarcoat it. People beat children because they were beaten as children, and until a whole generation decides to change its ways, the stick will always be the first method of discipline.

A Mother

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Indonesia Right2Create

2012-02-10 02:55:00

A Mother

Mother

You like my spirits

You always helped me

While I was hard

You always advised

While I was wrong

Mother…..

I want to make you happy

As you make all this happiness

From child until now

You always give your love

Mother……

You are my diamond

When I was in front of you

You are so easy to forgive

Mother…

You’re always in my heart

Not a second step without you, Mother

I will always love you forever

Thank you mother…..

-Windy Yuli Susanti

MAN Mojosari, XI IPA 1

The Chickens Ate My Worms!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Paraguay "Peaces" of Paraguay

2012-02-10 02:49:00

Remember the worm compost pile I started with my host family? Well, the other day, I went to feed the ‘cevo’i’ (lombrices) some cow poop and happened to find one of our chickens chilling in the worms’ home!

Being two months fresh in site and the compost pile being my first project in the community, I really want this thing to work! Not wanting to immediately blame the worms disappearance on the chickens, I told Odi, ‘umm, Odi, ko’anga, hay menos cevo’i en el composto’.

‘Ah! Entonces, yo pienso es la gallina!’

This is why I absolutely adore Odi, my host mom and site contact: she calls over to Julio, her husband, and explains the problem, suggesting we get to work solving the issue. Mind you, it’s the middle of a hot summer day, 100 degrees outside in Paraguay, ciesta time—I think most peoples’ mentality would be, we’ll fix it later!

Julio and I got to work placing a cover over the compost pile. I’m hoping a few are still alive, we’ll see!

In a few weeks, I’m taking two girls to a 3-day national environmental camp for youth. Peace Corps and the NGO involved are covering all costs except for transportation to and from the camp. In total, each girl needs to raise 28.000 mil Guaraníes; which works out to about 7 dollars for bus fare.

I had a meeting with the girls and we brainstormed how we were going to raise the money. The girls came up with two ideas. 1) Bake a ‘torta’ and sell it to neighbors. 2) Sell ‘sorteos’ at the upcoming community club soccer game! A ‘sorteo’, I later found out, is a raffle.

Great! Ok, so what are we selling tickets to raffle off…...BEER!

The thought of two fourteen year old girls selling raffle tickets for beer stunned me. And after asking them if this was something normal to raffle off, getting the ‘ok’ from their moms, we went along with their ideas. The girls ended up raising just over 60.000 mil Guaraníes—enough for bus fare and a snack along the way!

I can add another food to the interesting ‘tembi’y kuera’ eaten in Paraguay. The other day, a neighbor killed their cow for a ‘rezo’ celebration. A ‘rezo’ in Paraguay is a nine-day prayer held for people who have passed away. I was invited over to the neighbor’s house for lunch to eat part of the butchered cow. Agustina, served me a plate of ‘ipokue’ (name for the food in Guarani). When I asked what part of the ‘vaca’ I was about to eat, she said, ‘la pata de la vaca’ (the cow’s foot).

I ate as much of that foot as I could without giving off the impression I didn’t care for the taste—the thought of eating dirt and poop came to my mind…. seeing some remaining cow hair didn’t help ease my thoughts either!

Larry Harris Scholarship Project

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Tanzania YouTube Videos matching query: "peace corps" "Tanzania "

2012-02-08 23:01:26

	Larry Harris Scholarship Project Peace Corps Volunteer returns to Tanzania and reunites with his Tanzanian counterpart. They haven't had contact in 45 years. The epilogue features Vincenti, his wife and his granddaughter Getrude.	From: erniezaremba Views: 5 0 ratings
	Time: 14:28	More in Nonprofits & Activism

"Shake That Groove Thing" Filipino-style

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Philippines My Season of Peace

2012-02-10 01:46:00

Ibaan celebrated it's 180th Founding Day with a week long celebration. One evening was DepEd night where public and private schools participated in the celebration. We enjoyed superb traditional Filipino folk dancing and our group of teachers was assigned the theme of 1960's music. I was the only one who was actually alive in the 60's! What an experience, exhausting practices, great bonding among teachers, lots of laughs and my first time wearing false eyelashes! The town mayor and superintendent of education watched us along with many other officials and guests. I hope you enjoy, words could not express what this video captures!! Being a Peace Corps volunteer requires you to be flexible, I hope this counts!!!

2 Months In.

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Peru Mer In Peru

2012-02-10 01:33:00

Welp, I have officially been in site for over 2 months!!! Look at me go!!! Well, to be fair, sometimes I don’t go anywhere at all. Life as a Peace Corps volunteer is like a roller coaster. Some days, I’m out working in the field or teaching all day long. And some days, I have to get a bit creative for things to do. For example, a few mornings ago I was excited/saddened to realize that I had nothing to do. So, I spent a ridiculous amount of time blowdrying & curling my hair (for the first time in 5 months), then tried to cook my own lunch (and failed), and walked around La Capilla picking up recyclable trash to save for future possible projects. And then I failed at cooking my own dinner. Thankfully, most of my days are plenty busy. And I rely on others to cook my food.

I am happy to report that I thoroughly enjoyed the holidays here in Peru. I am not a big fan of missing the Thompson Christmas festivities (the only other Christmas I have spent away from family was when I was living in Italy). However, just like my time in Europe, despite missing family & friends big time, it was great celebrating in another country. I am going to take my mother’s sage advice, and skip over most of the details of how we celebrated/enjoyed ourselves. Let’s just say that we managed to have a VERY Merry Christmas and VERY Happy New Year. Please take into account the following photo as evidence of our good, clean fun.

Some random Peruvian holiday traditions:

It’s considered fun to eat ridiculous amounts of Panetone on Christmas day (Panetone is grossss.)

It’s good luck to wear yellow underwear on New Year’s Eve.

If you run around your block on New Year’s Day with an empty suitcase, you will travel a lot in the coming year.

I did all of these things. And I don’t think that I will ever forget buying yellow granny panties on the side of the road for $0.20 from a somewhat suspicious-looking Peruvian gentleman. It should be a great 2012!

I am happy to report that I am winning the “Peru 18 Mail Sweepstakes.” This is a contest that I have completely made up, due to the fact that I recevied a ridiculous amount of mail over the holidays. This was great for so many reasons. Mostly because everyone complains about how much mail I get (we all share a mailbox), so I get to brag about all of my awesome friends and family that are clearly kick-ass. I now have an entire wall in my room dedicated to mail that I receive from the States. “The Great Wall” is pictured below.

I loved all of the Christmas cards, especially those with photos, and of course, all of the letters/notes that accompanied the cards. Thank you everyone. Because I love you all so much, I have decided that you all deserve shout-outs!!!!

So, thank you:

Ron & Heather

Nana

Uncle Steve & Aunt Loan

Aunt Nancy

Kristen & Josh

Roy & Kathy

Kay & Randy

Elena & Jim

Lynn (all the way from Hawaii!)

Grandma

Uncle Bob & Aunt Suzanne

Wes & Sara

Uncle Ron & Aunt Liz

And, of course, MVP status goes to my Mom & Dad, who continue to be the most supportive, kick-ass parents in the history of forever. Seriously, how did I get so lucky, people?

Furthermore, the tickets have been purchased, and the countdown has begun to Al & Jan’s 1^st trip to visit me here at the end of June!!! Yay!!! I’m also looking forward to Jim & Elena’s visit!!!

So, you wanna be on the wall? Send me something!

I also wanted to blog a bit about my work here in La Capilla de Asia. Basically, everything work-related has me pretty overwhelmed at the moment. Since I am still relatively new to site, Peace Corps policy states that I should be spending my time working on Spanish, getting to know my community, and writing a Community Diagnostic. This means that I spend most of my days wandering around town, taking photos, interviewing locals, drawing maps, arranging “focus groups” with women and children, etc. At this point, I have an incredibly long list of possible projects that I would like to do in the future. This list is taped to the back of my door. And everytime that I see it, I can feel my blood pressure start to rise. No joke.

There are two categories of possible projects: program-related and secondary. The environment program has three goals: solid waste management, natural resource management and environmental education. I am required to address all three goals during my service. So far, my work plan includes a reforestation project, ecotourism with the local fisherman, recycling project in the school, composting, designing landfills (big & small), and creating tree nurseries.

Secondary projects are more loosely defined, and I can focus on anything that I want, within Peace Corps guidelines of course. So far, my work plan includes starting a Girl Scout troop, latrines, building safer ovens (cocinas), AIDS outreach, adult education (focusing on women), knitting club, forming a student government, etc.

So, yeah, these are the lists that raise my blood pressure. Hopefully, my Community Diagnostic will help me focus my goals/energy, and I will have a manageable amount of projects. I will share more details on these projects in future posts.

So, that's my job right now. How about a bug story? I was reading in the courtyard the other day, and felt something crawling on my head. I felt around in my hair and extracted a beetle that had to be at least an inch long, gave a quick glance, and set it in the grass next to me so that I could proceed with my book (Harry Potter in Spanish, by the way). Is that a weird reaction? Meh, you can’t sweat the small stuff here. When I’m hanging out in my room on my laptop, reading, etc. I usually do it with a fly swatter in one hand. You know, just in case. Ha ha funny funny, Peru is already turning me into a whacko. At least there are no mosquitos. I’m feeling bad for my fellow PCV’s living in the jungle & mountains.

Random food cravings: frosted mini wheats, grilled cheese sandwiches, Costco pizza, SALAD.

In a perfect world, I would end this blog post by stating that I promise to post again in one week. But, my friends, this is NOT a perfect world.

So, goodbye for now.

Meredith Thompson/Cuerpo de Paz

Casilla Postal No. 43

SERPOST San Vincente de Cañete

Lima, Peru

For Your Edification and Entertainment

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Fiji Friends of Fiji

2012-02-10 01:26:16

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=koUWaAr-itY : Pacific Love — the Peace Corps experience (recommended by Kelly Roy)

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/02/04/business/global/looking-forward-fiji-turns-to-its-canoeing-past.html?_r=1&emc=eta1 : The traditional canoe is at the center of several projects aimed at reducing Fiji’s energy consumption, providing cheaper transport, keeping local traditions alive and giving a boost to tourism. (found by David Downes)

http://peacecorpspostcards.com/ : To commemorate the Peace Corps’s [...]

Wishing it lasted forever

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Guatemala Hardcore in the Peace Corps

2012-02-10 01:18:00

We live our time here pretending we’ll be here forever. We long for this time and feeling to continue on and never end, but it was never meant to be like that. Our lives are full of experiences and moments that we had wished would have lasted forever. If only we could have held on to the feeling a little longer.

That is how I feel about my experience here in Guatemala and it doesn’t help that it is getting cut short. For those of you who haven’t heard, my new end date is now the end of March. I found out Tuesday that we will officially not be getting a replacement volunteer after we leave site. I was hoping and planning for our work to be continued. I mean we have put so much into our work here that it should be continue, but it just wasn’t meant to be that way. I just have to accept the reality. It makes me feel like a person who had a crush on someone and then one day finally got up the nerve to ask and the other person said ‘sorry, I just don’t feel that way about you.’ You see, up to that point, when the reality set in, the one with the crush was able to imagine that the other person felt the same way about them and dream of what life would be like if they were together. These dreams and hopes could have gone on and on if not for the sting of reality. Reality gets us back to where we need to be, kind of like a gentle shake or a slap on the face, with it we wake up from our dreams and are forced to stand with reality. It’s hard but it’s for the best.

Sometimes reality is better than our dream world but sometimes it isn’t. My current reality isn’t. Getting my time cut short means that I will no longer be able to carry out my projects. It has really shaken up what my plans are between now and when I finish. Before this change, I had my time planned out to finish the end of June but after the wrench was thrown in, I have become a little apathetic in trying to revamp my plans. Last week was a bit difficult and went really slow. It was also really cold and cloudy the whole week which didn’t help at all. This week is going a little better and things seem to be coming together a little for me. I had a meeting with one of my communities on Wednesday informing them of my early termination date and what that meant for their projects. I expected the worse but I got a pleasant surprise. I was hoping that the women would have gotten to know me well enough that they would understand this drastic change wasn’t coming from me. When I gave them the news, it took all that was in me not to cry. I felt horrible not being able to come through on my word. They seemed to understand, with the help of a translator, that this was not coming from me but from the higher ups of Peace Corps. I gave the women the option of trying to do the projects on their own (with support from me until I head out) and they seemed to be willing to run with it. I wasn’t really sure what their reaction was going to be once they found out they were no longer getting this sort of hand out. I had the feeling that a lot of them might not really be willing to work for their projects but really just wanted the hand out. I guess my feeling was a little off (in a good way!) and they seem willing to take on the process of the projects themselves. They wanted to get started right away in order to make the most of the rest of my time here. It looks like those seeds of empowerment that I planted are starting to come to life in some of the women. Now that just puts a smile on my face!

Prayer request:

-That I would be able to make the best use of my time left here (I will be leaving March 24^th!)

-That the women would stay motivated and be able to find some financial resources for their projects.

-For Peace Corps Guatemala as they try to make improvements in terms of safety and security of volunteers.

Peace out,

Kels

2012

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Vanuatu Fasin Blong Bankis

2012-02-10 00:17:58

This post was written in several parts, between 31 January and 5 February. So, I’m pretty sure the apocalypse has started. It is 2012 now, after all. In the past two weeks, we in Vanuatu have had three “tropical lows” move through the country, a 7.1 earthquake, and ridiculous flooding (in Sola, at least). At [...]

Superbowl Sunday in the Comarca

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Panama Carolyn in Panama

2012-02-10 00:13:00

I heard on Tuesday that the Patriots lost. Tom Brady’s wife is a poor sport.

Background: Right in the center of the Comarca Ngabe Bugle lies one of the world’s largest copper deposits. A year ago, Ngabes blocked the main highway in opposition of the planned mine for about 4 days until President Martinelli promised he would sign a bill giving the rights back to the Ngabe people. They don’t want the mine because it will pollute the rivers and very little profit would stay with the people. However, the bill was never signed so the Ngabes decided to start protesting again on January 30, starting in San Felix which is my nearest town and the entrance to the mine.

Monday, January 30: I already knew that a protest was planned for the morning but I had to drop two thirteen year old girls off at a Peace Corps-run 5 day youth seminar in San Felix. We arrived at 10 am and saw a bunch of police cars waiting but no one protesting. By the time I left the girls and headed back to site at 3 pm, I saw a bunch of people peacefully protesting by the side of the road. By evening both lanes of the road had been closed to traffic but I was already back home.

Wednesday, February 1: I walked around with some community counterparts to all of the participating houses in the latrine project, as we had previously chosen Feb 1 as Inspection Day in order to verify that project participants did their prep work (dig a 3-4 m deep hole and get 5-gal buckets from before buying latrine materials. We measured the depth (3-4 m) and the width (1x1 m) of the hole and checked to see if they had gathered their 10 5-gallon buckets of gravel from the river. Almost everyone was ready. The plan was that materials would be delivered and the project would begin on Saturday, if the road opened in time. Cell phone signal was turned off all day.

Friday, February 3: Fifth day of road being closed. I hiked a different route (3 hours) to be able to access the road north of San Felix which was still open. Many of the seminar participants and other volunteers were stuck because of the road, but luckily my girls and I could get back.

Saturday, February 4: Well, it was clear that the materials would not be arriving for the latrine project due to the ongoing road closure… Cell phone signal went back out. Everyone stayed at home listening to their radios as the road continued to be blocked and the protest movement spread to more towns along the highway. Things were getting more heated.

Superbowl Sunday (January 5): The first protester was killed in San Felix which caused an uproar. Afterwards the police hauled over a hundred protestors away to a jail 2 hours away, because protestors had already burned down the police station in San Felix. Some government cars were burned in another town. For some reason I couldn’t find any news about the Superbowl on the radio.

My nearest volunteer neighbor Emma hiked 1-1/2 hour over and we tried to replicate the Superbowl experience by lounging in hammocks instead of couches, listening to the radio news instead of watching football, and eating bean egg ramen soup instead of wings and pizza. We had a pretty decent time.

Tuesday, January 7: Cell phone signal came back after 3 days of signal blockage. I didn’t even realize until several hours later because I had given up checking. The government agreed to meet with indigenous leaders so the road was able to re-open. I talked with my Peace Corps friends and found out that everyone was ok.

Since then, things have slowly gone back to normal. Some local families have had their own scares though - my water counterpart´s 16 year old son was locked up in a jail two hours away for two nights because he was present at the protest, and the family knew nothing about him until he had returned.

Now, time to continue with the latrine project!

The Good and the Bad

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

El Salvador Pretty damn far...

2012-02-09 23:53:36

The bad news: my dog got macheted (machetied?)…more on that later. The good news: my project is up on the Peace Corps Website, check it out and donate! https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=519-176

Looks Like We Made It.

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Paraguay You've Got to Move by Yourself.

2012-02-10 00:13:00

G-38 is officially in Paraguay. After an overnight flight from Miami to Buenos Aires, a 4 hour layover, then a 1.5 hr flight to Asuncion we are here!

There are 28 of us all together, and we are all pretty awesome if I say so myself. Tomorrow 10 weeks of training begins and we meet our host families! AHH!

Mid-Week Ramblings

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Peru I don't care about money, I just want to BE WONDERFUL- Marilyn Monroe

2012-02-10 00:18:00

Wednesday, Feb. 8th

Just wanted to share a few random things about my week so far before these thoughts get lost or forgotten.

It's been raining all week which has rocked Ascope's world. We've gotten rain everyday since Sunday and things are falling apart--- literally. Lucky for me, my house is awesome and my ceiling hasn't caved in or leaked yet. Others I know are not as lucky. Things here aren't built for rain so the host family, and everyone else around these parts, is a little worried.

On account of the rain and everything falling apart, there is a rogue rabbit runnin' round these parts. The rain caused the rabbit cages to fall apart, hence there were some bunny escapes. Sadly, a few of the really little guys didn't make it through the rainy night. The older ones, though, just had fun running free until they were captured this morning by my host family. One little guy, however, remains elusive. Apparently, 4 adults couldn't catch him this morning, so they just left him out to fend for himself. When I saw him bounding around loose, I got really stubborn about catching and 'saving' him. He doesn't want to be saved. I spent about 20 minutes squatting and jumping around in rabbit poo trying to capture this little friend. I was unsuccessful. There was a point when I got him nibbling on some alfalfa in my hand while he was under the cages and I almost had him, but he was too quick and I was too worried about falling in rabbit shit to be smooth enough to pull it off. Eventually, Piere came over to help me, to no avail. Unfortunately, not only were we unsuccessful in our rabbit hunt, but he also let me down in the humor department- which doesn't happen very often... although I don't know why I was expecting him to get this joke in the first place. I'll tell you about it anyway. As we were crouching and tiptoeing around the rabbit cages I said, "SHHH! Be vewy vewy quiiiiet." Lost humor for so many reasons. But really, when else would I be rabbit hunting, ever? I'll never get to use that line again. Sigh. And in case you're wondering, my friend who escapar-ed is still running free. I've heard Abuelo is just as stubborn as me in this conquest, and he and I share a fondness of the rabbits, so if anyone catches him it will be Abuelo. I'll let you know if we get him tomorrow.

Had a nice run this evening on top of a good one last night. It's nice running after the rain. Last night I got a rainbow and a sunset, tonight I had a really nice peaceful run as no one was out on account of the rainy muddy murkiness. As much as I enjoy everyone cheering me on and shouting my name, racing me, giving me high fives, etc. sometimes it's just nice to zone out and enjoy a quiet afternoon. Both nights I ended the run by stopping to chat with my neighbor who recently had a baby girl. I love babies and this one is sooo cute. She has a ton of hair! Makes me really really excited to see pictures of little Vivi who is on her way... I have a hunch she's going to have some crazy-awesome hair :)

Anyway, I did something a little extreme after my run. I've been considering it for awhile now and I decided it was time: I went public with my marathon training. Now, I know that some of you might recognize that I've already 'gone public' and sent emails, made a facebook post, etc. about training for the Pacasmayo marathon, so you might think that this is no big deal, but it is. When I say I went public with it, I mean I went public in Ascope... and that's kind of big. What I did was mention it to my two gateways into the social circle of my street. These are the kind of friends who know everything. And once they know, everyone knows. So to tell them that I am planning to run 42 Km in July means that now every time that I run, I will hear something about the 42 Km I am training for. As I had hoped, as soon as I told them, they called someone over from across the street to share the crazy thing I had just said. Worked. Like. A. Charm. Soon I had a small group gathered and people asking if they could run with me... even though I know they probably won't. In any event, I've just won myself a bunch of social pressure that will be key to me sticking with my training commitments. Thanks Greenwood for teaching me how to swing small town gossip to my favor ;)

One more random thing-

Today while leaving the school following my afternoon class, I walked past the English teacher's room. He's teaching 'catch-up' English classes for those who need extra help. This is different than the English class I am teaching and is part of a summer school program sponsored by the municipality which I think is really cool. Anyway, as I walked past I heard him playing 'Simon Says' with his class. I don't know where he picked this up. It could have been from the volunteer who was here before me, it could have been something he knew and has been doing in his classes for awhile, or it could be something he took from the workshop I gave all the English teachers of the province on Non-Formal Education practices. In any event, this made me really happy. I don't really care how it got there, non-formal education in a Peruvian classroom makes me smile real big and walk home happy.

That's about all for now. I still can't add photos to my posts for some reason. I hope this changes soon. Hope you are all doing well. Miss you all a whole bunch.

In Which Esteph Finds Her Calling As A Trout Fisherwoman

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ecuador A Door Into Ecuador...

2012-02-09 23:34:43

This past Sunday my host parents answered my secret prayers that we venture out of Tumbaco and the three of us took a nice little day trip to la mitad del mundo, a monument a little over an hour outside of Quito located precisely at the equatorial line. The complex itself was a little cheesy, … Keep reading →

Upgraded to WP 3.3.1

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Gambia, The One Revolution

2012-02-09 23:58:25

Hey, so somehow I’ve had a lot more time on my hands recently, so decided to fix the issues I’ve been having with this site (database password got messed up – sorry, my bad). Also took the opportunity to upgrade to WordPress 3.3.1 – pretty! Plan to post a bit more often, but we’ll see [...]

Support Tribal Renewabale Energy When You Offset Your Impact

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

El Salvador Sustainable Development, Sustainable Livelihoods

2012-02-09 23:21:31

Every year, each of our solar air heaters prevents 1.39 tons of carbon emissions from being generated by its combustible alternatives. When you contribute to this renewable energy Carbon Offset option, you help not only our environment, but also the … Continue reading →

Bomb Falafel فلافل ‎

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Paraguay The Escobar's take on Seattle

2012-02-09 18:40:00

Last night Patrick came over for dinner and we enjoyed a delicious meal cooked by, me!

Falafel is a deep-fried ball or patty made from ground chickpeas and/or fava beans. Falafel is usually served in pita, which acts as a pocket, or wrapped in a flat bread known as lafa. The falafel balls are topped with salads, pickled vegetables, hot sauce, and drizzled with tahini-based sauces. Falafel balls may also be eaten alone as a snack or served as part of a meze. Generally accepted to have first been made in Egypt, falafel has become a dish eaten throughout the Middle East. The copts of Egypt claim to have first made the dish as a replacement for meat during Lent. The fritters are now found around the world as a replacement for meat and as a form of street food. (wikipedia)

Falafel is DELICIOUS. In Barcelona there is a chain called Maoz Vegitarian, a little tiny whole in the wall shop on Las Ramblas that had yummy Falafel and Hummus. The selling point for me was there was a self service salad bar where you would stuff your pita full of veggies from broccoli, mushrooms, tomatoes and many many more and then you had your choice of sauces. We would stand there and eat our Maoz when we would run out of veggies you could just fill it up again! It was the most amazing lunch spot ever! See the veggi bar below!

So last night I was craving falafel and decided to make my own. And I don't want to brag but...It was pretty darn good.

The Recipe

- 1 can garbanzo beans

- 1 whole onion

- 2 cloves of garlic

- Handful of chopped parsley

- 1 Tbs of olive oil

- 1/2 lemon squeezed

- cumin

- coriander

- cayenne pepper

- salt and pepper

- 1 cup of bread crumbs

- 1 egg

- 1 tsp of baking powder

I blended all the ingredients together in the blender but a food processor would have worked MUCH better. Then I made a yogurt sauce.

- 1 cup Greek yogurt

- dill weed

- lemon juice

- 1/2 cucumber (seeded and finely chopped)

-salt and peeper

Then we stuffed pita with the falafel, sauce, lettuce and tomato and paired it with a nice cold Red Chair Deschutes Brewery Beer!

http://lizinparaguay.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default?alt=rss

a Tata winter

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Morocco the world fascinates me

2012-02-09 23:14:00

Yesterday was a gorgeous summer-esque day with a temperature of 93 degrees. Today was completely overcast, dusty, and quite chilly. (By "chilly" I mean 60ish degrees. I am definitely acclimated to the warmth.) I sympathize with my friends in the North who are suffering a true winter with these Moroccan houses containing no insulation or central heating. They can literally see their breath inside their home, and I've heard complaints of water freezing solid overnight when laundry was left to soak... Soon I'll be complaining about the 130+ summer, but for the time being I love the heat!

A dusty winter sunset.

And then life happened:

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Morocco Camels, Couscous, and Peace Corps. Oh, My.

2012-02-09 23:11:00

Man, if I had only known what awaited me after writing my last post. And that ending line, "Busted lip and all, I still have a feeling things are looking up"! Talk about jinxing myself.

Let me explain. After writing that post, I then traveled up to Rabat and began a whirlwind of slightly terrifying medical tests. I started by going in to see the Peace Corps medical staff (PCMOs) and doing a quick history and explanation of what I was doing when I fainted and discussing possible causes. They ruled out all the normal stuff like dehydration, stress, low blood sugar, etc. and because this is Peace Corps and the last thing they need is a volunteer passing out in the bled (backwoods... minus the woods) and getting run over by a donkey, they decided they better test me for all the not normal stuff. So then began a "fun" few days of getting wires strapped in all sorts of places to see if I had epilepsy, seizures, or a brain tumor, blood clots in my legs or lungs, or some kind of funky heart condition. All of the first two came up completely negative, but oh that last one.

The cardiologist had me do an EKG/sonogram/something that showed him my heart (I am such a bad health volunteer) and saw/heard that I have premature heart beats. No cause for worry there, however, again because this is Peace Corps and liability is key, they decided I should wear a heart monitor for 24 hours to see if anything else might come up. I turned that back into the cardiologist last Thursday and then waited around for the results. Because Monday was a holiday (another l3id!?), I didn't find anything out until Wednesday. It turns out they found something else besides the premature heart beats. I also have a condition called SVT (supraventricular tachycardia). From what I understand from the PCMO's rather detailed explanation and wikipedia, it basically means every once in awhile (in my case a couple of times a day) the top half of my heart gets a funny signal and decides it's going to beat super fast and make me do fun stuff like faceplant into my bathroom floor. The condition isn't fatal or anything, but it does make being a Peace Corps Volunteer a little tricky. Untreated there's the chance I will faint again and maybe, actually get run over by a donkey.

So then we talked about treatments. Basically there's two ways to go: medicine or surgery. The meds are beta blockers and seem to pretty much just suck. They make working out near impossible, you can't drink on them, and they're a rest of your life kind of deal. The surgery comes in two forms. One that involves radiation and another that involves freezing a bit of your heart. They both work in the same basic way (snaking a tube up my vein and into my heart and killing the funny bit that keeps beating super fast), however the radiation treatment has a slightly higher chance of complications (like needing a pacemaker or open heart surgery) but it's permanent. The freezing treatment allows doctors to play around until they're sure they've got the right spot and then freeze that tissue, but it has a small chance of impermanence, which means another surgery. So those are my treatment options.

When I first talked it over with the PCMOs in Rabat, there was the hope that they'd maybe put me on the beta blockers and see how I do, but still let me continue service and then revisit surgery once I officially COS'd (closed my service) in May 2013. I just found out today that is not going to work for Peace Corps Washington; they won't let a volunteer continue service if they're on beta blockers. Because the surgery can't be performed in Morocco, my options are now to be medevaced (this gives me 45 days to start whichever treatment they decide and recover to Peace Corps' satisfaction) to DC or Bristol or to be medically separated (completely ending my service). Tomorrow I find out which one I'm getting and which treatment Peace Corps Washington is going to advocate. But no matter what it looks like I'm leaving Morocco. Inchallah (god willing) it will only be for a few weeks.

Белая Мечта

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Kazakhstan YouTube Videos matching query: "peace corps" "Kazakhstan"

2012-02-09 08:14:20

	Белая Мечта A performance of "Белая Мечта" (White Dream) in Russian Sign Language by Aktobe, Kazakhstan resident Bota Ussenova seen here performing together with Peace Corps volunteers Jon Halpern and Aaron Bean.	From: animaminor Views: 1 0 ratings
	Time: 04:25	More in Travel & Events

Lake Taupo Climbing Expedition

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Senegal Staying Grounded on the Run

2012-02-09 21:21:00

Oh yeah!

Swing Bridge Time- Longest in NZ

Dinner

It’s been an interesting week since I last wrote, and by chance I’ve found myself in the same coffee house where I wrote last time- maybe it’s just conducive to finger tapping. By far the most interesting feature of the last week was a trip through the north island for a climbing expedition on Lake Taupo- an extinct Volcanic crater large enough to fit the city-state of Singapore within it, now filled with crystalline blue water. I was invited by a new friend who spent his first year in New Zealand scurrying from one climbing site to another in a beat-up van and thus knew all the best locations.

My host Danelle and I decided to head up a day early in order to do some site-seeing on the eastern coast and camped our first night out of the city at the head of a trail with the longest swing bridge in New Zealand. As you can imagine we had a ball swinging around on it suspended a couple hundred feet from the riverbed below. We continued north in the morning, cruising through the wine-rich region of Hawke’s Bay and the quirky town of Napier, somehow still stuck in the Art-Deco style of the 1930’s. Walking down it’s avenues with swooping neon lights and pastel colored facades is as close to a time warp as you’ll get.

We finally arrived at Lake Taupo and hiked the circumference trail a couple of hours to our base camp, a tent-city of backpackers and climbers all high on the adrenaline of dangling from sheer rock faces with your fingertips. Camping literally 10 feet from the lake’s edge, we could gaze up at the rock formations we would be scrambling up looming over us. I must admit I was initially unnerved. Looking up from our campsite we could see climbers making their way up vertical and overhanging routes on the cliffs we were intending to tackle, and after not climbing at all for 3 years, I doubted myself.

Fortunately we were in capable hands and we spent our first day on a lower rock face with more preparatory climbs we could use to build up our strength and confidence. The next couple of days were a mixed bag of climbing, swimming, falling, climbing, eating, sleeping and more climbing!

It was a thrilling reintroduction to the sport, and it looks as though these climbing trips will become a regular placeholder in my agenda. After peaking out on our last climb, clipped in to the top bolt some 400 feet above the lake’s edge, I gazed out over the blue expanse of Taupo and felt the full weight of my good fortune. I also realized that my ecstasy at that moment would probably be replaced by utter fear by the vast majority of the population- and smiled again!

Sadly the weekend had to come to an end and we turned our headlights back towards Wellington, this time cruising down the western coast, where we traversed an incredible valley on the Wanganui river and camped on the black-sand Turakina beach, strewn with massive driftwood from past floods. Situated at the mouth of a small river, it is growing at a rate of 4 meters(16 feet) per year in places. Strolling down the beach in the bright morning sun, the black sand sparkled like we were walking on the night sky littered with stars. There is scarcely a square kilometer in New Zealand that doesn’t leave you gawking, and I’m told that the South Island is even far more impressive.

That’s why I’ve bought a ferry ticket bound for the South Island tomorrow, and even got an extra seat for the grouch. We’re going to see what the place has to offer for the next couple of weeks until International Orientation starts on the 22nd. Hopefully I’ll be back with some beautiful photos.

A bientot!

Help us repair the school

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Mali journee

2012-02-09 22:06:52

Children went to school for the first time in my village in 1998, when the Men’s Association built a large 3-classroom building of their own labor and resources. This building, housing grades 1-3, though still sturdy in structure, is starting … Continue reading →

panorama of the village

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Namibia learning and loving in Africa

2012-02-09 22:11:03

In this 360-degree view, you can see what our students do for fun on free afternoons, the hostel where the kids live, how close our teacher housing is to our principal housing/office building/school blocks, and even some guys doing construction on the pavement near our assembly block. Just another day in the life….

Freezin' my задницу off over here!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ukraine brb- going to Ukraine!

2012-02-09 22:09:00

It's been a LONG time since I've updated. For awhile, I didn't update because there wasn't anything new to talk about. Then, I didn't update because I was really busy (both good-busy and bad-busy) it was hard to find the time to sit myself down and upload pictures and post something.

It also takes me a long time to post because at least 4-5 times while I'm writing, my thumb slips and hits the touchpad, and before I notice what happened I have already typed a few more words, only to look up and see that I accidentally deleted three or four paragraphs.

But, anyway, the last two weeks I didn't have any excuses- school was closed last week, and the basically this week (school was open but no kids showed up) due to temperatures around -20 to -30 C. It is freakishly, dangerously cold outside.

How cold is it?

Most schools have been closed on quarantine for the past two or three weeks, and some will still be closed next week.

The death toll is over 130, mostly comprised of homeless people. Some died in shelters and hospitals, but 64 bodies have been found just lying in the streets. I can't imagine being stuck outside in this weather.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-16817162

http://www.businessweek.com/news/2012-02-03/east-europe-freeze-death-toll-exceeds-100-as-towns-blocked.html

An article on bbc (http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-16868194) has a funny bit at the bottom, where Ukraine's Emergencies Minister, Viktor Baloga, offers some unusual advice to fight the cold:

'His personal advice to keep warm, he added, was to "run 8-10km [5-6 miles] every morning and bathe in cold water, all year round" '

It's so cold that for the first time in 30 years areas of the Black Sea have froze. (Check the link out, the pictures are pretty cool!) Temperatures are supposed to hover around -30 C for this weekend, unfortunately, so it will be a good weekend to get some things done.

The extreme cold seems like it came all-of-the-sudden.. up until a month ago the winter was more like fall/spring- very mild temperatures and no snow; just mud. Lots of mud. Everyday was grey and muddy:

Yuck.

Now it is so cold you don't want to leave your apartment if you can help it.

Pretty! ...and cold.

On thing I'd like to point out from the picture above is that they don't plow the streets or shovel/salt the sidewalks here! Basically, walking paths just get formed from people walking over the snow, over and over again until it gets completely packed down. At which point the walking paths become hard, packed-down snow that is super-slippery. Many volunteers brought "Yak Trax" with them before they came to Ukraine. I scoffed at the idea, but in all honesty they are a terrific idea; these roads and sidewalks are very slippery even if you are just walking.

As for the cars.. well, they also don't plow the roads. It's the same deal that goes for the sidewalks- enough cars drive over the snow on the roads to pack it down until is is hard. And slippery. I was talking to my friend, Kip, about this not too long ago- it is funny to watch them drive on these very slick roads because they definitely slide when they come to a stop, but they KNOW just how far their car will slide until it stops. For example, I'll see a car come to a stoplight, and then the car behind it brakes, and then skids for 5-6 feet until it finally stops at a normal distance behind the first car.

I'm surprised that there aren't more accidents on the roads, but it seems like they are just used to how to drive in these conditions here, and without people plowing the roads.

I thought that the winters here would be similar to ours in Minnesota, but nope. Ukraine wins. Sure, the temp is cold, but the wind is really what puts the icing on the cake. I don't have a long walk to school, maybe 5-10 minutes, but when I arrive there are tears on my face, my nose is beat red, and it takes a few minutes for my mouth to thaw so I can talk normally again.

It has been nice to hang out in the apartment and be able to catch up on reading, study Russian, relax and watch movies. And, of course- sit down, upload all of these pictures and get everyone caught up with what's been going on. I actually have to start back in November (wow, it has been a long time, ha..)

Now that I've talked about what's going on recently, I'll go back to November when I last updated...

Ukrainian Birthday - Nov. 8th

I learned that birthdays are a BIG deal in Ukraine. They are almost like a holiday.

At school, the students and teachers knew it was my birthday, but I wasn't expecting anything. I bought a cake, some juice, and some other treats, and brought everything to school to share with the faculty. As soon as I walked inside the office, they faculty lined up and sang "Happy Birthday" (in English), gave me a little Cossack statue, a cake, and wished me good fortune, health, and love in the next year.

Ola presenting me a Cossack, cake and wishing me well (these kinds of things are awkward for me)

A funny cross-culture difference about photographs:

In America when we see pictures of Eastern Europeans we say things like, "Why don't they ever smile in pictures... are they angry??

When Ukrainians see pictures of us, they say, "Why do Americans always show their teeth in pictures..."

Faculty: "Now we will take a photo of you cutting the cake."
Me: "...ok."

That night I invited my two site mates over, the girls that I work with at a local NGO, and this girl, Yana, who I was dating at the time. Only my site mates and Yana came, and it was a fun/funny time. I mentioned that birthdays are a big deal here, right? Yana showed up looking like she was going to prom. Her hair looked like it took a lot of time to do, she had a very fancy dress on, a very expensive mink coat, and had glitter in her hair and below her neck. Us guys, on the other hand, didn't get the memo and were just wearing jeans and sweatshirts.

Thanksgiving

Since Mattison and I live so close together, the other volunteers in our oblast and us decided to have Thanksgiving here in Konstantinovka. It was nice to see some of the other volunteers who I haven't seen in awhile, and also to meet a few new ones. But the best thing about Thanksgiving was of course, the food!

Group photo! Donetsk Thanksgiving 2011

News Years and Christmas

I was surprised to find out that New Years is a bigger deal here than Christmas. I think it's because religion isn't as big of a deal here, or as I've heard Ukrainians explain (or joke?) that religion died with the soviet union. But the people that do celebrate Christmas, do so on January 7th according to the Gregorian calendar like most Orthodox Christian countries.

New Years in Ukraine is weirdly similar to our Christmas in the states; they have a New Years tree (Christmas tree) and have Father Frost (Santa).

Here are some pictures from our school's New Year's concert:

New Year's tree or "yulka" (юлка)

Some of my 8th form students and their homeroom teacher

Getting ready to do...something....

My 9th and 10th graders performing. Colya is dressed up as Father Frost on the far right.

Poster in our cafeteria

Besides the holiday events at school, they were also keeping me busy at the NGO that I help out at. They talked me into performing again with Anya, this time at the New Years concert at the palace of culture. At first I was a little annoyed because they never asked me, the director just told Anya to tell me what we would be doing. I have told them numerous times that I don't sing or dance, at least not on stage, but I guess in the end it is good publicity. The kids also think it's really cool that I am willing to do perform with them. I never promise them greatness, just that I'll try my best. We never do any complicated dance moves but it's still really hard to memorize!

So without further ado, I give you the second performance by Ukraine's next big power duo, Anya and Joe:

Post-concert (before the paparazzi could mob us)

Our dancers. How 'bout them bows?

After all of the New Years shenanigans were out of the way, I made a trip back to the Kiev area to visit my host family. I had been meaning to visit them for awhile but it is a 14-hour train ride there so it's hard to make that work on a weekend. But, we had two weeks off for winter break so I took the opportunity to head to Obukhiev and get spoiled with good company and home-cooked meals.

Christmas dinner!

Above is a traditional Ukrainian Christmas dinner. Apart from some traditional dishes, it is also customary to set garlic at each corner of the table to keep away bad spirits, and to set an extra plate and glass at the table for those who have passed away and can't be here to celebrate with us. I don't remember the type of candle that is at the table, but is a special kind that is bought at the church. We carried the flame back from the church with us, and a lot of the food that is on the table was blessed by a priest at my host family's church.

I went with my host family to the Christmas service and wow, it was really cool. The church had pained walls and ceilings, and decorated with many old paintings and pictures. There were candles all over the place, and people would come inside and light a candle and sometimes blow one out. I wish that I understood more about what was going on. There were two girls who were on a balcony singing hymns with the priest. It was sort of strange how the service worked- the priest would come in front of everyone and lead a hymn, and then go to the backroom (where there was a huge cross, a bunch of candles... I couldn't see what was back there all too well) for 5-10 minutes, then come back out again. It was a very long service (almost 4 hours) but very interesting at the same time.

Sauteed mushrooms and boiled potatoes

Galuptsi, a traditional Ukrainian dish.

Dumplings

I forgot the name of this, but it is a traditional Christmas dish made with apricots, rice, raisins, and (I think) almonds.

It felt great to go back there. It felt strangely..comfortable. What I mean by that is, the first time that my group and I saw this town was in the middle of the night and we were dropped off with a family we had never met. Everything about this town, and Ukraine in general, was so strange, scary, and ...foreign. Everything we saw was so crazy and different- the marshrutkas, language, clothes, stray animals, the soviet apartment buildings that are stacked together and all look the same, etc. We were afraid to approach people and talk to them (as was our frequent assignments during language training) and it was easy to get lost.

But returning to this place felt very familiar. I've found that over the past 6 months nothing really surprises me much about this place anymore. Hard to explain, I guess, and right now I can't think of any examples. I just know that I feel adjusted and comfortable here, and if I brought friends or family here it would absolutely would trip them out, ha.

Above all things, the best thing about returning to Obukhiev was that I could actually communicate with my family this time! During training we were learning Russian from scratch, so especially for the first month or two it was a lot of "Yes", "No", "Please", and "Thank you" (and a TON of pointing). But I've been keeping up with my Russian and have a tutor so my skills have improved quite a bit. It was awesome to be able to talk to everyone, and they all complimented me on how much better I spoke.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From New Years until now I've been teaching my classes and trying to think of a project to do at site. I also had some unpleasant things happen, like either dropping or getting my wallet stolen. It was a pain in the butt to replace the ID card that Peace Corps gave to me because I had to go to the police station and file a report. Then, maybe a week later, some idiot called us and said that he found my wallet and would give it back for 1500 griven. We laughed at him, told him that I am a volunteer and don't have any money and that I already replaced everything in the wallet. Then he offered 1000. Then 800. Then 700. And so on, until we got to 100 griven but then he wanted to do some weird exchange involving a taxi so we wouldn't see his face. We just told the police station what happened, and left it at that. Live and learn, I guess. I was bummed for awhile, but one thing I've learned from my experience is to not sweat the small stuff because things can always be worse.

I also finally broke things off with the Ukrainian girl I was dating, for more than a few reasons. It was a cool experience though.

I guess that's it for now. Well.. I do have a lot of pictures from around town, school, and from when Kip visited this past weekend, but I will wait to post them. he he

Cape Mozamverde

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Cape Verde Letters To and From Africa

2012-02-09 21:56:34

January 27, 2012 Text Message: Code Orange is in effect Me: Code Orange? What? What is going on? As I consult my Emergency Guide card, I discover that Code Orange is–dun, dun, dun–AN EMERGENCY! Wait. What? An Emergency? Holy crap, we’re having an emergency! Ok, fika calma (“stay calm”) I kid, really. What we were [...]

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Senegal Under Senegal Skies

2012-02-09 21:41:00

Is it really 2012? February?? How did that happen? I was never really one of those volunteers who said that time was “just flying” – at the 18-month mark, for example, my thoughts were pretty much, “Yup, that was a pretty long 18-months…” Then my stage (i.e. training group) had our COS (completion-of-service) conference, and we reflected and reminisced and romanticized and sentimentalized and talked about our futures, and all of sudden, I find myself searching desperately for the last 23 months of my life, wondering wistfully where I can find that many more moments with the people of my village. Wondering how I can slow down and return to all the hilarious moments of horse cart debacles and troughs of rice and tubby naked babies underfoot. Where-oh-where did the time go, can anyone tell me that, please?

The idea that this life I’ve embraced – or that, more specifically, has embraced me – will just end is somehow very confusing. I look around my village in average moments and I sense the onset of a bizarre melancholy – preemptive nostalgia, no doubt – where everything seems beautiful and tragic. This is my home, I just can’t help but think. But it’s not. That’s the thing. All the loveliness I see through the rose-colored glasses that have glued themselves to my nose in the last few weeks can’t go on forever. Much as I like to think I could live here forever, I know I can’t. What would be my place? I can’t continue to occupy this exquisite-peculiar-nebulous-androgynous-beautiful-alien role that I’ve enjoyed for the last two years. I don’t belong with the teenagers, nor with the young mothers, nor the old women. Everyone knows their role, except for me. And that’s been more than fine, but it can’t continue indefinitely. When it comes down to it, I just don’t really have a real place here. This African village? Not really my home.

Still, there seems to be some sort of disconnect. How does one live in a place for two years, and then just see herself lifted out it, spontaneously and without really good cause? I’m fully appreciative, by the way, of how ego-maniacal this disposition is, how self-centered it is to coddle this disbelief that life in Ngaraff will roll on without me. But who cares? I enjoy basking in my confusion over the whole issue. I’ll take my wistful befuddlement, now, and spare you the rest of my pontifications. Thanks for listening.

Okay, so obviously I love my people in Ngaraff. How could you not? Check 'em out. Also, can you tell who my favorite babies are? :-)

I can't help but mention that, on top of the people of my little vill, I also love my stage, affectionately known here at PC/Senegal as the "super stage." Not we're all about to scatter to the wind and fulfill our respective dreams and it makes my little heart feel a little overwhelmed, with both pride and sadness. Here are some shots of these fantastic kids:

Super-stagers on the first night of PC/Senegal's All-Volunteer Conference

The four Super-Stagers of Linguere: Ann Marie, myself, Kim, Justin.
I adore these kids; I owe them my life and my sanity for the past two year.

Super-stagers Mika, Wilma, Jillian (plus 3rd year PCV Amanda on the far left) dance their way off the field
at this year's W.A.I.S.T. (West Africa Intramural Softball Tournament). Pure Class.

Them's my super stage ladies - Wilma, Jillian, Kourtney, all dressed up
with some place to go (WAIST Party, final night, that is.

Fields of Glory

I would like to take a minute to brag about the women of my village. At great expense of time and energy, they are cultivating a gorgeous community garden in this desert. But really, it takes enormous amounts of effort. In teams of eight (generally, four “young women” and four “old women,” because that’s how they’ve divided up the space) they each water every fourth day. This entails lugging watering can after watering can over the expansive terrain. They spend at least an hour and a half to two hours both morning and afternoon . . . and that’s just watering! Then there’s everything else that goes into a creating and maintaining a feasible garden – planting, transplanting, weeding, etc. And since they’re gardening in sand – sand, for crying outloud! – every step requires the provision of massive amounts of some sort of manure, scooped up into their trusty plastic buckets and carried on their ever-level (literally! Hehe) heads out to the garden.

When it’s my host mom’s turn to water, I usually go help in the afternoon (and even with me moving constantly, it still takes close to two hours), but I recently found out that that team is out there in the morning, too, before dawn, flashlight-deficient as they always are. I, meanwhile, am sleeping to some ungodly hour, say 8 o’clock, then going for a long leisurely run through the bush. (And then I indulge myself with such internal whiney thoughts such as “my life is so hard,” etc.) Anyway – back to the garden – is it sustainable, all this work and input? They need irrigation, or at least a water basin/reservoir of some sort, if they are going to continue to garden in crummy sand. I’ve tried, twice, to write small specialized grants to bring such a water reservoir into the garden, but due to silly politics and NGO interference that I won’t detail here, it’s obviously ended up not happening. I wonder, with distress, about how this garden will fare in future seasons.

Finally, a Basketball Update:

Awhile back, I posted here about a basketball court project two other PCVs and I were doing and asked for donations. First of all, to all of you that donated – THANK YOU. As things tend to go in the Peace Corps, and in life, things have not quite worked out as we had planned. When Kim, Ann Marie, and I wrote the grant back in June (June!) we had received the good word of folks at the NBA, who promised to fund at least half of the total budget of the our project. Then the execs we were talking to started faltering . . . then the NBA went on strike . . . and long story short, the NBA funding fell through. Yuck. Fo reeeaalll? They couldn’t give us one hundredth of one of their players’ salaries? Anyway, we had to make do with what we had, which was a little more than one third of the funding we had sought. Thus, plans have changed. Instead of building three courts, we can only build one, in Barkedji, the home of my friend Ann Marie. We decided to build it there because it’s the largest village of the three – comprising about 4,000 people – and the only one with a middle school instead of just a primary school.

Had things worked out differently and the NBA had come through on their promises, I would have been really excited to place a court in Ngaraff. But things being as they are, I want no one to be disappointed about the allotment of the funds. The number of youth, and people in general, whose qualities of life will improve due to this one court is great. And that’s what it really comes down to. I hope that all donors out there will be understanding of the malfunction that occurred, and in a way, it’s kind of beautiful in its own right. Our big, corporate-ish funder fell through, so we had to change our goals. But all the little people out there – that’s you guys! – came though! And now all the kids in Barkedji, and all the surrounding villages (of which there are many) will have their first real place to PLAY. So I say again: THANK YOU. (I know who you are, too… we got our list, and good grief, I’m touched. Thank you. )

Family Matters

Oh! And have I mentioned? The Naftalin - Levitt Clan took Senegal by a storm. Truly, having my family here - my mother, my father, my stepmother, my big brother - meant even more to me than I thought it would. Those are MY people, you know? And now my people know my other people. We arrived in my village, the five of us, in an overloaded little Peugot, and as we squeaked through the sand up to the village square, I saw all my women and some men, dressed to the nines, chanting and clapping and dancing. And when I climbed out of the car, they descended upon me, giving me huge hugs and kisses, all the time with the chants in the background: "BI-gue! BI -gue!" Then they all made speeches, about me, mostly, which I awkwardly translated to my family. I got to say, in English and Wolof, "Mom, this is my mom," as I introduced my host mother to my mama originale. It was wondrous, from start to finish. In addition to village time, we saw lots of Dakar, a little of St. Louis (minus Papa and Stepmom, who got bad bouts of the ol' food poisoning), and paradisaical Palmarin.

What can I say? If the world does in 2012, I'll feel lucky to have had this abundance of family - both those of American and of Senegalese descent. :)

Until next time . . .

i'm coming home...

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Senegal JT's Adventures

2012-02-09 21:08:00

im a terrible blogger. i blog inconsistently. i barely write anything ever. but i guess that's ok. words are boring to read. the pictures and videos capture it all. winding down my last 3 months in senegal... oh but i forgot to say! i have officially confirmed my last day of service, which is ::drumroll:: april 30th! which means may 1st (or 2nd), i will be finally home. oh home sweet home... how i miss you...

WAIST! i dont know if you remember my waist blog post last year but it's an annual all volunteer softball tournament. it's fun. lots of dancing and partying. and you get to dress up as a region! our theme was SUIT UP! yes, i am literally wearing a velvet / silk suit. awesome.

i think taking part in the garden project was the best idea ive had in senegal. it's just a feel good project. i dont have to do anything and the women are still completely motivated! look at all the semi shade protection as well as protection from aerial pests aka those stupid birds that eat everything you grow.

and theyve managed to grow lettuce! i seriously suck. i should never be allowed to garden ever. i fail at life - or just successfully growing lettuce...

carrots!

granted yes the child is totally stepping on the soil which isnt so great because it's packing down the soil when we want airy soil but hey, baby steps. they manured! and mixed the soil! and added neem leaves and ash as natural pesticides! and there was charcoal for water absorption! pretty much, +1000 for senegal. they actually listened to our lovely agriculture volunteer's advice!

the freshest air in all of senegal. what a beautiful cliff/island...

is this... america?! i thought senegal was considered a third world developing country. and yet you find these glamorous hotels that charge $300-600 US dollars a night smack in the middle of dakar. excuse me. your carpet is too soft. i may just sleep in the corner of your elevator if you dont mind.

it was kinda like paradise. unreal. 200 miles away, you have children in dirty rags eating plain rice, some salt and a few beans. and here, it's royal treatment. i really dont think dakar is a part of senegal.

ahh the senegalese presidential elections! coming in february. things are heating up and looking exciting. riots, protests, demonstrations. granted it's also not so good. destruction of property. deaths. it's getting dangerous... but we'll be ok.

i kinda fail at life again. 23 months in senegal and i finally discover the hip hop underground dancing scene?! shame on me. where have i been the last 2 years?! where have you guys been the last 2 years?! i wish i found this earlier. im starting to really fall in love with dakar...

we're always taught that senegal is very conservative, very religious. boys cant have long hair. boys cant wear earrings. girls cant wear shorts. boys and girls cant touch... and yet... this is everything that is opposite of conservative or religious. it feels so... (sorry for not being pc) normal.

the graffiti at this place was beautiful. the dancers, all talented. i felt at ease. i felt at home. i miss dancing...

senegal has been having some weird weather lately. global warming? perhaps. just super windy, super sandy. it's like a permanent sand storm. my eyes hurt. my nose hurts. i dont want to go outside. im just drugged up on antihistamines.

cha ching! BANK! each of those stacks are 100,000 cfa. or about $200. multiply this by... many stacks. and all of this is only half of what i had in my bank account... i wonder what final project im trying to finish up in the next month... stay tuned.

oh and lastly, my friend goza got "married". well it was a fake wedding but it was super fun! her village will never be the same ever again!

Changes are being made in Ukraine!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Ukraine Let Life Come To You - Dave Bise

2012-02-09 21:48:08

Dear Family and Friends, I am writing you to ask if you can help me fund a grant I have submitted to the Peace Corps Partnership Program. I have the privilege of teaching in Ukraine at the Kazanka Gymnasium and Boarding School. This specialized school instructs 125 students with 60 of the students being residents [...]

Reverse Culture Shock

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

China occidentallyoriented

2012-02-09 21:19:03

Well, I can definitively say that the worst couple weeks of the first 25 years of my life are behind me. And thanks to the remarkable support of friends and family and your wholehearted belief in me, the next great … Continue reading →

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Benin From Anasara to Yovo

2012-02-09 20:40:49

The boy in the back was my student who was killed this past weekend. I called upon him quite often …

On The Move

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Botswana Traveling Kawajas

2012-02-09 21:13:00

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my life in Botswana. I talk about the ups and down of my service, but what I’ve yet to mention is my struggle with the thought of coming home. This is not to say that I’ve made a choice, but it has certainly been at the forefront of my mind these past few days.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had an inability to sit still. It occurs in both mind and body; like a constant need to chase something in front of me, something I can’t quite make out but I know it’s there. When we would watch home videos of our family from our youthful years, you can see it plain as day. My sisters would be politely sitting on the bed, attentively listening to my dad read us a bed time story, while my little mullet-haired head would bob up and down out of the corner of the camera yelling, “can you see me now mommy??? (as I cover my face with my hands) How about now? If I can’t see you, can you see me???” I’d walk around the room, roll around on the bed, poke my sisters, stick my tongue out at the camera until finally, exasperated, my mom stopped recording (most likely to scold me). Even now, as an adult, people hate to sit next to me on the couch or at the movies. I’m an incessant fiddler. I have to scratch every itch, even the imaginary ones, and it takes me about 3 hours to find a position comfortable enough to stay in for longer than 10 minutes.

It happens in my mind too, this continuous moving. Like a child chasing a fleeting butterfly, I can never fully appreciate where I am in the current moment. I always want to be somewhere else; I want something more than what I have. The trouble is I’m actually impulsive enough to act on it. After college, I worked for 6 measly months at the Lupus Foundation of America before getting bored and realizing it wasn’t right for me, so I quit. I spent 3 glorious months backpacking throughout Southeast Asia where my longest commitment was to a 3-day scuba diving course in Thailand. I came home with the weight of expectations to act like any other college graduate and join the working world heavy on my shoulders, only to turn around and spend a few more months touring the Great American West. Finally I “settled down” to the most rewarding and exciting job I’ve ever had: being a nanny to 13 incredible kids. Except it never felt like work to me…my days consisted of playing catch, baking cookies, having races in the park or going to the pool. Maybe that’s why I was able to do it for nearly a year and a half without questioning myself. Still, despite how happy I was, my restless mind carried me off to The Peace Corps. Now that I’m here, I characteristically want to leave again. I’ve fallen into a routine and I’m bored already. I crave the excitement and the adventure of life on the move; I want to see something new each day, to meet new people, to feel alive. I want to accumulate as many experiences as I can, and allow them to expand my ever-changing world view.

So maybe that’s what this journey is for me: a lesson in static living. A lesson in appreciation of the moment, in love for stability. Maybe I need to fight my instincts to go home and find a new journey. I need to stay here and see this decision through to fruition. Realistically, what is waiting for me at home… of course the friends and family that I miss so dearly, but once I’m there, won’t I just get the urge to leave again?

Then again, maybe this is my life’s destiny. A few months before I left for Botswana, I was having a moment of doubt as to whether or not I had made the right choice. A very good friend and mentor of mine said to me, “are you sure you’re not doing this just to say that you’ve done it?” I was caught in my tracks and the reality of the statement sunk in. Perhaps there is some truth to it… after all, I do tend of have the type of personality to seek out a thrill. I enjoy doing things with a certain shock value, just for fun. Is this just another notch in the bedpost of my life? Have I walked this path simply for the sake of adding it to my bag of crazy stories, only to get here and find that it’s not truly what I want to be doing? The momentum of leaving was too strong to break in September. I had told so many people, received endless well-wishes of love and luck (and tangible gifts) that I felt like I just could back out.

Regardless, I am here now. I don’t know what will happen in the future. I know this is just a low, and my psyche will pick back up eventually. No one can ever really prepare you for the reality of what daily life is like in the Peace Corps, and unless you’ve been here you can never fully grasp the loneliness of it (granted, I am quite possibly the most social being on the planet and I require a great deal of love and affection to achieve nirvana). That being said, I pray that I will always end with a positive in the checks and balances of my experiences and interactions for the day. I pray that the good outweighs the bad, and that it’s enough to sustain me until I no longer feel the pulling desire to pack my bags and move along.

I’m about to be 25 years old; it’s about time I grow up and start acting like an adult….. isn’t it?

A sudden gradual change

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Guyana Giving/Learning/Doing

2012-02-09 20:48:05

Sometimes in life you move too fast to recognize how much things around you are changing. This last week has been a whirlwind activities full of the unknown and discovery. I arrived in Guyana welcomed by humidity, sunshine, and a refreshing coconut. Everything around me was new, but comfortable. As excited as I was to … Continue reading »

A sudden gradual change

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Guyana Giving/Learning/Doing

2012-02-09 20:48:05

Summer in Paccha

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Peru My Peace of the Corps: Juliane in Peru

2012-02-07 21:15:00

It's summer vacation and hot! On a normal afternoon, you can find me sitting in front of my fan, eating a mango. I'm dreading March, the hottest month of all, when I never stop sweating. I feel like a brat when I say I miss air conditioning, but who wouldn't after a lifetime of regulated temperatures? I think back on hot Mississippi summers. I didn't want to leave the house because of the suffocating humidity, it was torture waiting for the car to cool down after sitting in the sun all day, and sweating without intent was distressing. Now all I can do is sit in the shade and wait impatiently for the sun to go down. Because of the recent rain, Paccha is extremely muddy. Walking around town takes almost twice as long because I have to maneuver my way around muddy tracks and puddles. My host family has placed bricks in our backyard so we don't slip and fall in the muddy mess!

My current activities during summer break are a young women's empowerment group and a kids' theater class. I teach 4 days a week and use a classroom in the high school. I'm having a really fun time planning the classes and getting to know the kids.

The young women's group is what I'm most excited about because of the low self-esteem that affects so many girls. Yesterday in class I showed them various phrases from around the world that are offensive to women, such as "The place of a woman is in the kitchen." (USA), "Men that help their wives are slaves." (India), "A house without an owner is like a woman without a husband." (Iraq), and "Men that listen to women, suffer during the time of the harvest." (Togo). After asking the girls if they agreed with the phrases and what they imply, they said yes. What?! Every one of those phrases implies that women aren't worth as much as men. It was then that I realized how heavily gender roles are engrained into these girls' lives and culture. I'm extremely excited about the upcoming weeks that I have with this group. Hopefully, by the end, they'll start to realize that their lives don't have to be hindered by machismo.

Bonding time through bracelet making

An obstetrician teaching the girls about women's anatomy

The theater class is fun but challenging! I have two girls from the high school helping me with the 5th and 6th graders, and it's nice to have the extra help. I'm also glad that they're getting leadership experience. We started off with lots of team-building games and activities to develop their acting abilities and lose their stage fright. Now, we're working on a play called Mariquita Cochinita. It's about a young girl with bad hygiene habits who gets a parasite. We hope to perform for a group of children attending summer school. I'm crossing my fingers that they memorize their lines, speak loudly, and enjoy themselves!

I'm now soliciting donations for Paccha's community library so that we can install toilets and sinks, buy tables and chairs, and, most importantly, stock the shelves with books! Please click on the following link if you're interested in donating to this worthy cause.

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=527-084

Thank you!