Long time, no blog

I arrived in Sao Domingos for homestay almost three weeks ago, and time is already flying right by! They made special arrangements for us internet-crazed Americans to get online really quick, so here I am trying to update all at once. I think what will be easiest is to give you a brief intro to Sao Domingos and then just post all the journals I have written in chronological order, so that you can walk through my days with me. Currently it´s not letting me upload pictures, but don’t worry, I’ll get to it later—you’ll just have to be on your toes for awhile!

Sao Domingos is a semi-rural town of about less than a thousand people, with “regular” electricity and “running water” (water is bought in town by each individual family, carried on their heads to the house, and poured into a large tank, which is run through pipes in the house to sinks and toilets, etc.). There are hiaces (public vans that cram in as many people as possible and blast loud funana music) that run to and from Praia and other cities so that many people from Sao Domingos are able to work in Praia. Most houses have telephones and televisions, though there are only about 3 channels that have reception about 60% of the time, one for the news and two that rotate various telenovelas (soap operas) all day long. So during meals I get to practice Portuguese (which many people don’t speak) from watching cheesy dramas that are even funnier in other languages than they are in English. There is one high school (where we do our training) and one primary school in town, one hospital/clinic, a police station, a few churches, and several small markets where food and basic necessities can be bought. There is a municipal camara and a youth center, as well as a recreation center where soccer (futbol) and basketball can be played. It is an incredibly friendly and safe community, where everyone knows one another and openly smiles and greets you on the streets. The more impoverished areas lie on the outskirts and up into the dry hills that envelop Sao Domingos (side note: apparently people live in the hills because the slaves ran up there to escape the pirates that frequently raided Cape Verde circa Sir Francis Drake’s era). All kinds of animals roam freely throughout the streets and houses (how they keep track of their livestock, I have no clue), and especially this time of year without school you never lack for seeing children running, laughing, and playing in the streets after chores are done. Most things are carried on your head (a skill I’m determined to learn), babies carried on your back, and hands left free to give a thumbs-up or to grab the hand of a wandering child.

My family consists of my mama and papa, and five siblings, four in their 20s and one 13 year old sister named Carla (my father has other children from a different woman that live in Praia). Tania and Vandiza, my other sisters, love to play with my hair and are very sweet, though most of the time they just laugh goodnaturedly at the weird faces I make and random things I say. Vandiza is patient with me and really I think she just gets a kick out of this weird white girl. My two older brothers, Nilton and Adi aren’t around much, one because he spends all his time working out his ridiculous muscles (of which he’s very proud), and the other because he’s usually playing futbol. My papa, Menu, is very sociable and fun, full of energy and generally pretty hardworking. My mama Fatinha is kind, proud, and beautiful, will sacrifice anything for the people she cares about, and you can see in her eyes how much she cares. She speaks loudly and with force but isn’t one for many words, so when she does speak, you listen. I couldn’t be happier with my family.

7/11/06
Short reflections

Each day gets a little better as you get a little more courage (and a little more vocabulary) to put yourself out there and ask questions
Yes, apparently they do kick vicious dogs to protect humans just as we were warned…P.S. most of my family would cry at the sight of the skinny malnourished cats running around, but I suppose if you have to make a choice between feeding your ten kids or feeding the ten kittens running around, having a pet might be a luxury
Playing dance music until midnight that the whole village can hear might just be a regular thing
It doesn’t matter if you’re late to school as long as your pants get ironed and you eat a full breakfast
Pride in one’s country supersedes circumstance and can shine through one’s eyes in a way that makes you think twice about things
Speaking your own Spanish version of Criolu only works 50% of the time
Criolu actually is more logical than it sounds
I was too quick to forget how exhausting it is to be in another culture, pick up another language, and try to figure out what to say/what others are saying to you
Kindness, respect, and taking care of your foreign white girl can come in many forms, even if not always with a smile…their love shines in ways that can’t always be described
There’s not a whole lot you can do with your hair without a blowdryer, etc. and maybe it’s important to stop caring
I’ll need to get used to feeling confident and capable one minute, and overwhelmed and deficient the next—it will come together and I’m not doing this alone
Learning Criolu from a native speaker who doesn’t speak English really is the best way to learn because you have to ask around the question if you don’t have the vocab—don’t cheat by looking everything up in the dictionary
If virtually every house has some type of latrine or toilet, why does everyone find it necessary to just pee off of their roofs, on their roofs, on the streets, or anywhere they see fit?
Leaving your culture is truly the best way to appreciate your own on some level: we don’t just have to be the bad guys, we can appreciate the values that shape our character while picking up others; maybe this is what I need to truly resolve my challenges and difficulties with white privilege
Don’t get cocky in class with your language skills—you don’t know all that much and will still make a fool of yourself
There is no word in Criolu for blonde, is that because they almost never see blonde hair? What about on TV or other PCVs?
I’m not sure what to think about my father coming home drunk and trying to dance with me and my friend, but it makes me a little uncomfortable…it doesn’t seem to be an every night thing at least, but alcoholism is definitely a problem in Cape Verde
It truly makes my day when I discover a new word and get to see Carla’s big toothy grin, well worth any frustration. She is teaching me the parts of the body, the fruits and vegetables, and anything else we can think of to translate
Why do modern cultures (“us”) not understand how efficient it is to carry heavy loads on our heads? It really does work! Instead we feel we have to spend time and money building machines and contraptions to carry them for us. My 13 year old sister carried my suitcase on her head to our house, no problem

It frustrates me to keep hearing all these conversations (i.e. with other Trainees or in class) indicating how much better our way of life is and how it’s our initiative to make them look and act like us, be modern like us (i.e. technology is king). I’m still unsure how to reconcile the inevitability of globalization with its demeaning and often exploitative consequences. Since they’ve already been exposed to modernity, to technology, to western culture (or know on some level that it exists), is it too late to turn back, so now we should make them a carbon copy of us? I’m not satisfied with that answer. How do we avoid the power differential in the midst of transfer of knowledge and skills?—it inherently counters empowerment. Especially as a white person, how do I avoid the obvious, eliminate the history, erase the preconceptions so that they aren’t agreeing with me or participating in my project because they want to please or are used to being controlled by white people? How do I know it’s what they truly want or need? And how do I make it as culturally sensitive as possible? What scares me is that I’m not sure these thoughts have even crossed some of the Trainee’s minds. I kept hearing “exploit their resources” and “capitalize on what they have”, which for some reason continue to rub me the wrong way. I see the value in helping them to find their strengths and be able to use them, but sometimes I wonder what our end goal is. Is there a way to end poverty that doesn’t involve draining resources and enlisting a formulaic marketing plan that turns something beautiful into something selfish, wealthy outsiders can grab onto and make superficial? Is tourism the only option? Ideologically and emotionally it doesn’t fit with me—“Come greedy tourists and see our cookie cutter-molded island dream nation to suit all your tropical needs”. I know my opinion is not a common one—most people think that tourism is the best new form of development (and if you’re impoverished, maybe it’s more important to take it as it comes), but the attitude, the approach, seem wrong to me. Can’t we encourage other ways of building infrastructure and financial stability, like international advocacy and culturally appropriate forms of export that stay true to Cape Verde and not to western expectations? What about international aid and debt cancellation that allow the country to stabilize its relatively new government and subsequently be able to provide its own services to its own people without us telling them exactly how to do it? Maybe this is all crazy, maybe it doesn’t work that way, maybe the goal is to make everyone rich, but in the grand scheme of things are we just fooling ourselves into thinking this is the right way to live? My heart constantly desires to protect the traditional, to salvage the simplicity of indigenous living, but I think I’m losing the battle. In any case, I know there has to be a chance to do some good, and that always starts with the youth, with the new generation that has a chance to protect their culture and provide for its future.


7/13/06

I taught Carla how to play the card game “speed” today, and she was so excited—“American games are fun!” she said, and couldn’t wait to finally be able to teach her older sister a new game that she could be better at. We plan to teach the whole neighborhood. Carla reminds me every day why I love kids so much. She has endless patience and a way of explaining things and teaching Criolu like no one else in the family can. I spend most of my time with her and it’s just easy and fun.

My sister Tania braided my hair last night in tight cornrow-style braids: I’m officially a true Cape VerdeanJ. I think I definitely scored some cool points in the community. I’ve never seen so much of my scalp before, and it’s a little creepy. Definitely solves the “what in the world do I do with my hair today” dilemma.

I can’t wait to be able to start songwriting again…it’s weird to feel as though I have no place/time/opportunity to just sing like I’m used to—as loud and passionately as I want. No time to truly process things at a deep enough level to write a good song, nor the uninterrupted opportunity to do so. So much luxurious independence in the States traded for equally luxurious interdependence and cross-cultural interaction in Cape Verde. Hopefully I’ll soon be able to balance or encompass both. Still, thus far I’m enjoying every minute here more and more. Though training itself is getting off to a rocky start, I’m just plain happy. Happy to have a Cape Verdean family that loves me and wants me to stay. Happy to be learning Criolu (and picking it up quickly) and pushing myself to use it as often as possible. Happy to feel Africa seeping slowly into my veins, running through me like the coolness of a river you feel drawn to and refreshed by. I’m falling in love with all that I see. With the women who work hard all day but spare huge smiles and hearty laughter when you try to practice your meager language skills and end up resigning to “tudu fixi” (said countless times per day and in reference to just about anything). I’m falling in love with the pace, the steady beat of patience and humble service, of laughter and masterful futbol skills. I’m even falling in love with the smells, with the goats and pigs and chickens and cows scattered everywhere you look, with the disheveled and unfinished buildings, and the lack of much outside communication or inundation with popular culture. Have I romanticized Africa? There’s still progress to be made and service to be offered, but the vibrant Africa I’m presented with is for now one version of perfection.

7/15/06

Mama and Carla taught me how to wash clothes today. Damn, these women are strong! I tried, and they laughed because I’m so sadly weak—“mas forca, mas forca!” they giggled. The kind of work they’re used to is so different from the work I’m used to in the States—they touch my hands and say “My goodness, how soft! It’s because you don’t work them hard,” and I want to butt in and say “I do work! Just in a different way.” Anyway, I kept trying and eventually caught on to the clothes-washing. Finally, a way to buff up my wimpy arms. With things like this you learn what to care about and what doesn’t really matter. Washing all your clothes in the same water that quickly gets dirty and rinsing them in soapy water that keeps a nice thick layer of soap on your clothes when you hang them to dry may not seem optimal to those of us spoiled with washing machines and dryers our whole lives, but what does it really matter? They’ll get dirty with all the dust in the air and tar on the road anyway. And I kind of like it. I like not caring too much. They have an interesting balance here between the desire to be neat and presentable and the acknowledgment that truly remaining clean is improbable. God, what they must think of this American girl with her ridiculous amount of clothes—we started running out of clothesline.

It’s hard to describe how you feel when you turn around and find yourself in the middle of a dream you’ve had a million times. You know the surroundings, you can taste the air, feel the familiar sounds all around you. It’s been playing through your mind for so long you start to wonder if what you’re experiencing is just an extension of this dream. Or if maybe you may have dreamed it into life. Everything in its place, just as I imagined. And so maybe it isn’t fabricated, maybe Africa really does exist. And maybe I was right to see beauty in this way of life. Maybe I was also wrong to think it can only be one way or the other. Every once in awhile we’ll find ourselves in the middle of discussing globalization and cultural imperialism, and though I’m sure I felt the answer would come to me eventually, I still feel pulled in multiple directions, making no progress. I can’t stomach some of the ways we destroy culture, take it from the hands of those who have no strength left to hold it. And then I see where I’m at—I am everywhere, seeing a little of myself in everything and seeing the promise of cross-cultural communication, the privilege I embrace and sacrifice my life for. How far do I take it? How do I crush machismo without crushing culture? Am I allowed to say that it’s a universal value to uplift and protect women? Yes. To say that we have to reverse the gender roles we see all around the world? Not without realizing that not all gender roles have to be oppressive. It keeps coming back to me, this struggle with gender and I can’t resolve it. All I can do is appreciate the beauty in femininity, admire the unending strength and quiet humility I see everyday in my mama and sisters, working tirelessly all day while I sit in privilege. And I’m itching to do something, to get out there, make a difference, feel useful. And I have to remind myself every day to be patient and to let life come as it comes. The time will come for change, both small and large.

Every once in awhile I find a break in time and I remember to be sad. We’ve been so busy, practicing Criolu, going to class, hanging out in groups, loving Africa, etc. that I forget how much I miss everyone. And I know secretly I wanted it that way so I could avoid being sad, the depression of knowing that slowly, slowly it will be forgotten that I’m gone. But there are those moments—I let a few slip by—and I miss my mommy. I miss goofing off with Paige. I miss feeling at home in Oregon. I miss everyone else that I don’t have room to list. I miss the idea of certain others that I desperately want to linger in my life, that I’m not ready to let go of, but who I know might want or need to let go of me. I can only hope I haven’t disappeared yet. And again I’m back in that spot I find myself in so often, where I long for someone who knows me, truly sees and knows my heart without saying a word, without having to start all over again. That place of foolish self-doubt where you illogically tell yourself no one will ever really see and love you the way you want. But it’s only these brief moments when I remember sadness, and then it helps me when I need to know joy and let it wash over me.

This morning we learned the Cape Verdean game Oril, which Americans might know as mancala. It actually started as an African tradition and was played largely by slaves, which brought the tradition to Cape Verde. It’s played for everyday leisure, as well as on the day of a funeral. It’s meant to be entirely social, encouraging people to have fun and interact together (if you play alone, you are said to be playing with the devil), and they get competitive at it! It’s pretty fun, I think I can get used to this kind of leisure as opposed to the ritualistic movie-watching in the StatesJ. P.S. speaking of games, Mom will be glad to know the Pacific Northwest playing cards were a big hit, my siblings love to play cards, we seriously play all the time. The whole neighborhood now knows “speed”, and next I want to teach them how to play “spoons”—I think they’ll like it!

7/16/06

Today I went to the local Catholic church with my little sister Carla and our neighbors; the rest of the family doesn’t like to go. It was virtually just as I expected: an African version of the typical church services I’ve been to. It was outside (with the priest under covering) and many of the people had to stand. The service was in Portuguese and the priest was obviously Portuguese (the only other white person besides a few of us Trainees), which is interesting considering most people only speak Criolu unless they can afford to go to the 3-language high school that teaches Portuguese and English (and I think French…). The whole time I wondered how many people fully understood what was being said. For that matter do they have a Criolu Bible? I’m sure the Wycliffe people are on it.

It continually interests me that the language of religion always seems to translate the same no matter the culture. In three uniquely different cultures I have found myself zoning out to the tune of Christianese. At the same time that I find an intangible comfort in a place of faith and in seeing faith be celebrated, I also start to think about the origin and fate of it all. Portugal colonized Cape Verde and brought Catholicism—the country is 90-something-% Catholic—but what if a predominantly Muslim country had colonized the islands? How would the culture look different? How much has religion changed and transformed the culture? Would the African descendants then be mimicking their own version of Islam? Whose hands stir the pot? It’s hard to say where it all comes from sometimes, or who decides and who lacks the right to decide. I suppose no matter the situation, the experience/feeling/expression of faith and spirituality becomes universally important and fulfilling, even if it wears different hats. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever fully resolve my spiritual dilemmas.

7/18/06

Those days when you find yourself on a mountaintop (both literally and figuratively) are always when you see things clearest, feel things the fullest. We decided to hike up one of the many mountains (or large hills) that surround us and into which many of the houses are built, and I got to see just how beautiful all of Sao Domingos is. I never thought a place so dry and brown could be so breathtaking. With the sun setting over the peaks and people scurrying below to finish outdoor chores, seeing lights start to twinkle on and off, you can’t help but be at peace. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my camera, but we plan on going regularly, so I’ll have more chances. There are a million little things about this culture that you observe here and there, and that without you noticing paint an intricate picture—one that when trying to write a blog becomes difficult to describe. A day is filled with a hundred smiles, a few dozen thumbs up paired with a “tudu fixi?”, several random goats crossing your path and often dragging a stray leash behind them, a child or two being bathed on the rooftop for anyone who cares to view, and perhaps a wink from your teasing sisters who you know are secretly amused by everything you try to say. As I walk along the freshly-tarred road, I can see children carrying large buckets of water on their head or dragging homemade toy cars behind them, precious old women carrying babies on their back and pausing to give you a weary but gentle and kind smile, groups of cocky boys learning how to laugh, be though, and play futbol, and big, happy African mamas who can’t wait to show you where so-and-so lives and ask you whose house you live in—and they always know exactly who it is. I see kids and adults of all ages doing hard manual labor on the side of the road until long past sundown. A few minutes farther up the road I see a bar full of young and middle-aged men settling their days with a few glasses of grog, the local cheap liquor, and perking up when they see a few Americans walk in for their usual and much-needed social hour.

Yesterday I received bensu from Tiffany’s grandma, a tradition I hope never truly dies from this culture. Bensu is a blessing that is given to youth (as well as adults) by an elder that you pass by, a way of acknowledging the wisdom and experience of the elder and respecting them as a valuable part of the community. The young person holds out their hand to the elder, asking for blessing, and the elder takes the person’s hand and holds it to their forehead. It’s beautiful, and the elder always gives a kind smile, and it reminds me how much I love cultures that respect the older population, that take care of the previous generations. Apparently it is more practiced in rural areas and is beginning to be lost in more urban areas (not surprising), but I truly hope it isn’t lost with any modernization that passes through with foreign development work. Too often we replace tradition with obsessions with time and efficiency.

Cape Verdeans sometimes remind me of Costa Ricans (a broad generalization, I know): you can’t read their thoughts right away, and though they’re always polite and respectful, they wait to show you their true feelings (both good and bad), though it doesn’t always take long. What I’ve been learning and loving is the discovery (or affirmation) that humor is universal—when in doubt, laugh at yourself, say something funny, act silly, and try your best to tell jokes. I’m sure this has led my family to believe I’m the biggest dork, but I can always get a smile out of them without having to use a ton of language skills. If you can’t laugh at the mistakes you make, you’ll end up spending too much time frustrated. They probably just shake their heads and say to the other families, “Oh, our silly white girl, she likes to dance around and make weird faces and laugh a lot.” In my world, there could be much worse things! A smile and a giggle from my mama is all the reassuring I need.

Tonight the lights went out (as they frequently do) during dinner and as I stumbled through the house searching for my flashlight, I realized I didn’t at all mind the darkness. My mind wasn’t panicked thinking about what paper was due tomorrow that I wouldn’t be able to write (praise the Lord for this break from being an official student) or about how I’d have to go to bed early for lack of things I’d be able to do (writing in a journal by flashlight isn’t so bad). Instead I brushed my teeth, played cards with Carla, and decided I’m very lucky to be here. Hopefully that’s a good sign as I get ready to leave for my Volunteer-shadowing weekend in a very rural area (i.e. 3-hour hike to get there, no running water or electricity, 350 people total in the whole zona)—we’ll see if I’m prepared to handle it like I’m hoping I am. I know some parts will be more pleasant than others: bucket baths and candlelight I can handle, but waiting weeks or months to hop onto the internet (which would be necessary if I lived there) to see how my family is doing gives me some anxiety. A weird paradox, huh? I’ll have much more to tell after this weekend, as long as I can eventually find a place to update this blog! Boa sorti ami!

7/19/06

Sometimes I get frustrated hearing impatience and complaining all around me from other Trainees, people who want what they’re looking for now and who aren’t as willing to adapt to the culture. I know that’s normal, it’s not easy to leave all behind and maybe it’s natural to look at things that are different with a little hesitance, but I guess I just think differently. Anything that’s different is an exciting new opportunity for me, something that I can add to who I am, something I might like that I never knew about before, something that can make me stronger. And I guess it’s just part of my personality to grow weary of complainers—I don’t like tension, negativity, etc. and would much prefer to squeeze the goodness dry from most things. But when you’re surrounded by other Americans or people of your same situation, it becomes easy to do just the opposite; the negative attitude becomes contagious and suddenly everyone is talking about how they hate the food, wish their host moms would just let them live like they’re used to, and don’t understand why they can’t embrace their independent lifestyle here. I know that I have to claim guilt at times as well, it’s easy to do: “Yeah, I’m hot and sweaty and tired and sick of Criolu too!!” But more than anything it just gets annoying. And not everyone does it, for the most part this is a great group of warm-hearted and caring people, it’s just that sometimes I catch myself doing a double-take at certain comments and attitudes, wondering “didn’t you choose to come here and drastically change your lifestyle?” Then I have to remind myself that it’s only the second week of training, it’s natural to struggle with adjustment and feel cranky and tired. So the moral of the story is: give people some grace and realize that just because they complain doesn’t make them a bad person—but it doesn’t mean you have to join in the complaining. And just because they don’t want to be open to new perspectives and other people’s ideas doesn’t mean I can’t keep striving to be a good listener to those around me. It’s often hard for Americans (or people in general?) to stop and truly listen to what people are saying, validating their perspective without jumping to share their own experience. We talk so much and rarely feel truly listened to, so we keep talking more and more trying to be heard and never really feeling fulfilled. No wonder we’re such a loud culture. I don’t mean to lump all Americans (or all of my fellow Trainees) into an over-generalized category, it’s just something I’ve noticed while observing people (it’s what I do).

7/22/06

The past two days were spent shadowing a current Volunteer in a town called Hortelao, one of the most rural sites Peace Corps has open in Cape Verde. Which is of course quite a different picture of “rural” than exists in other parts of Africa and the developing world. I was surprised at how comfortable the living standards were (relatively), or I suppose how easy it was to adjust to having no light, running water, or toilet. I think anyone can get used to that—it’s the isolation and frequent boredom that would do most foreigners in. We played a lot of Solitaire by candlelight.

The Volunteer I and two other Trainees shadowed was a CD (Community Development) Volunteer who works mainly with the agricultural sector in nearby Calheta Sao Miguel. There wasn’t much going on with her projects this time of year because everyone goes out to plant corn from July to September/October, so no one is around during the day. She has been trying to start a bee-keeping project in her community, since they have the resources and can try to avoid importing honey, but as we started to understand, it’s difficult sometimes to get things underway in a rural area. You don’t have the same access to things that exist in urban areas, travel (time, distance, etc.) is much more difficult, priorities and understanding of time are quite a bit different, and with projects like this it’s hard to establish a sense of urgency within the community.

The first day we hiked up into the Ribeira, which is a gorgeous, tropical-feeling valley that proves that parts of Cape Verde are actually green. It was great to walk through the surrounding villages and see how the Volunteer had integrated, how everyone called out her name as she walked by, how she stopped and talked with all her neighbors and friends, and how she was so comfortable and fluent with her Criolu. We ate fresh mangos off the trees, saw where sugarcane is cultivated, where grog is made, where the kids have to hike up to school, and where the water tanks collect water to irrigate the land as well as to be brought back and used in homes. We walked by the community center she works with to see their community garden and marmalade-bottling project, and saw where the donkeys convene to help carry water up the mountains to people’s homes. We also saw the community washing area where people can wash clothes together, which exists both for convenience (not having to lug as much water up to the homes) and for social purposes—women like to talkJ.

That night she cooked dinner for us: rice with zucchini, beans, and other assorted vegetables she had picked up, very delicious for having little resources with which to cook. There are no mercados near her area, so she has to pick up all her food when she’s in Calheta and plan accordingly. So I suppose you stock up on nonperishable items, especially without having a refrigerator. Another great thing about this culture and particularly rural areas: the trust and willingness to always look out for each other. She said if she’s in Praia traveling and won’t be home for a few days and doesn’t want to lug her groceries around on a crowded hiace, she sends them on with one of the drivers (whom she knows by now) who drops them off at her door. Sweet.

Speaking of hiace rides, talk about hot, sweaty, and slightly nauseating. We had to take between two and four hiaces to get anywhere, and it always seemed to take my stomach a little while to recover afterwards. And not really just because of the roads or the jerky driving, but because they cram 20+ people in 9-12 passenger vans. A little stuffy.

The thing about living in a remote area and not having electricity is that you have to be easily able to entertain yourself. You have to plan your day according to when the last hiace or helix comes your way and when it starts getting dark. So your day kind of has to wrap up starting around 5:30 pm. Although it helps to have a community you know well and that is safe, because our Volunteer was able to go up the Ribeira alone (once we got to Hortelao) the second night to meet with her counterpart, and didn’t return until 10:00 pm. We were worried at first that it was so dark and she was alone, but the neighbors laughed at our overprotection and informed us that she knew her way around and was completely safe in the community. In the meantime, we chatted, played cards and oril, and read books. I just finished Kurt Vonnegut’s “A Man Without a Country”, which was great by the way. You really have to learn to relax in a rural area…which brings us back to the lack of entertainment: our Volunteer said the hardest thing about being at a rural site, especially without another Volunteer, is the isolation and loneliness. I think that would be the hardest part for me, not being able to go out and socialize in the same way I’m used to. It does help (or force) you to integrate really well into the community and seek them out for social interaction, but shadowing in a rural site helped me to see what some of my challenges would be. Who knows how one might react to the situation though, right? I’m starting to think no matter where they put me (to a certain extent), I’ll learn to adapt and be fine.

Kudos to the Peace Corps for arranging the shadowing experience—it’s a pretty useful tool to see what it’s really like (granted to a limited extent) to live and work as a Volunteer. I know not everyone had as positive of an experience (there’s always room for improvement), but watching a PCV interact in his/her community is the best way to prepare us, or to dispel/affirm different expectations. I would have appreciated a bit more concrete technical stuff: how does the organization you work with function? How do you get funding for things? How do you work with the camara? Also, a little more expectations for the PCTs would be nice—expect us to speak more Criolu, make us figure out more of the transportation and food, etc. Easier said than done, I suppose. Overall it was a very positive experience, though. No real complaints!

7/27/06

So I haven’t journaled for awhile because sometimes you have to wait for those moments when motivation skips along your way. It’s been an interesting week, full of highs and lows and mixed emotions. I think when you get past that first quick hump of euphoric idealism, the moments of exhaustion, doubt, and stress start to sneak up on you unexpectedly. I was talking with a fellow Trainee the other day about how in order to do this (Peace Corps, development work, crossing cultures, etc.) you have to be extra optimistic and positive, a step beyond what you might be normally if for no other reason but to protect your sanity. I consider myself an eternal optimist, a pretty idealistic person (of course mixed in with a little healthy realism), but even I’ve certainly had my moments this week. Sometimes you just wake up feeling crabby. Not eloquent, not excited, not articulate or centered, just blah. And I’ve decided that’s okay. I burned a hole through one of my skirts yesterday when I tried to iron it. Stupid little setbacks like that fill your mind with doubts—am I incompetent and unable to take care of myself? You second-guess your language skills, ability to adapt, etc. etc. And then the afternoon comes and you realize that you’re not the only one going through it—and that maybe you’re not completely crazy. And I suppose that’s what it’s all about—being able to take a step back, be self-aware, get your groundings and be confident in who you are and what you’re doing here. And then life can be pretty again and you can realize that we’re all just doing the best we can. Attitude is everything.

We had a mini “girl gab session” (I guess) last night with my sisters, mom, and neighbors, and of course the first thing they asked me was if I had a namoradu, or boyfriend/betrothed person (they have a separate word for all the girls-on-the-side that the men maintain, a very common part of this culture). They couldn’t get their minds around my answer of “no” and my explanation that two years away from a significant other in another country wasn’t desirable to me. They then assumed that it was one of my goals here to find a Cape Verdean. Later that night my sister pointedly introduced me to several young men who were apparently my “potentials”. “Courtney, you like Carlitos? He’s a nice boy!” A quick clarification (largely for my mom’s sake): I am not here to find a husband and don’t plan to bring one home, so don’t start worrying. I’m still a little childishly scared of boys, especially when there are big cultural stigmas and barriers. If I meet someone great, I promise everyone will be there for the weddingJ.

I’m getting impatient with my Criolu skills, mainly because the best way to get to know someone on a meaningful level is to hear what they have to say and to be able to respond and validate them. That’s hard to do when you still struggle through explaining what you learned in class today. A friend of my Cape Verdean mama’s died this week and I didn’t have the language skills to try and talk about it, or to know what’s appropriate to say when she’s obviously sad about it. Plus language skills would be nice when everyone’s laughing (at you) and you’re not sure what someone said (about you) that’s so funny. Being able to laugh at yourself is an essential skill. Or when in doubt, teach them how to play “spoons”, which they will subsequently play for hours late into the night. Then you’re kind of like a small hero.

7/28/06

Today was by far my favorite day in Cape Verde. Man, today was what I’m here for, what it’s all about…the Community Development people (about 16 of us) took a field trip to a town between Sao Domingos and Praia where an international NGO called SOS has one of its two Cape Verde locations (the other in Assomada). SOS is an organization started in Austria that exists all over the world and throughout West Africa, and that houses orphaned, abandoned, abused, and impoverished children in bad home situations. The location we went to (which is only 3 years old) houses about 64 children of all ages, and the one in Assomada, (about 22 years old) houses over 100 children. The setup is pretty great: they built houses that can hold 8 children and one mother, with a kitchen, living/dining room, and two bathrooms. The “mother” I spoke of is an adoptive mother that devotes her life to taking care of these youth, living there 24/7 except for one day of the week in which they go home to their biological families. They cook their meals, watch after them, etc. and the organization also provides preschool/kindergarten education and various activities to keep the children busy. We all got to spread out and eat lunch in one of the homes with the kids and mama, and it was so great! When the kids are old enough to attend primary school, SOS has a collaborative relationship with the community primary school in which they pay for the youth to be able to attend for free (i.e. paying for all the supplies, etc.), which they also do for high school when the youth are old enough to attend liceu. Additionally SOS organizes a sponsorship program where each child has one or more “padrinhus”, which are people all around the world who want to help support the child’s education and other basic needs (similar to something like World Vision or other sponsorship programs, but much more interactive). The children continually write letters and communicate with their padrinhus, and some even have up to seven sponsors! The best part of SOS (in my opinion) is what is currently being formulated, which is a program that helps families in their homes with social and economic problems, in an effort to prevent the need for children to be taken from their homes in the first place. They are working on helping families with micro-financing, counseling, educational workshops, etc. so that those children who come to SOS for lack of stable family environment have the opportunity to return home and assimilate back into their community. This is much more sustainable, as opposed to trying to house the thousands of children who need good homes and are on the waiting list to get into SOS…helping families to rebuild and provide a strong supportive system for children. THAT is why I want to work in youth and family development. Organizations like this. It’s amazing to see the kindness and compassion that fills every corner of the organization, that glistens in the eyes of the workers and the adoptive mamas, and that you can’t help but take away with you. I want so badly to work with this NGO, I´m hoping there will be a chance in the future to do some volunteering, or at least with an organization that does similar things. Afterwards we all went to another organization called ACRIDES that works with disadvantaged youth who are often forced to work on the streets. It provides extracurricular activities for them to do as well as teen mentors who volunteer and who often went through the program themselves. During the summer they run several summer camps (like we have in the States) and go camping at various places throughout the island. We had a chance to just sit and exchange views and thoughts with the teen volunteers and just share why we are here and what we want to do in Cape Verde. A very valuable experience, altogether. I think one of the best parts of the day was just being able to see right in front of you the possibilities of what we could be doing as Volunteers--not sitting in a classroom talking about fluffy abstract concepts I was immersed in last year, but seeing what people are out there doing, asking questions, being inspired. And inspired I am:) Next I just need to find out where I'm actually going!! Okay, hopefully pictures will come later! Take care, everyone.

Some guys were practicing for their soccer team right on the beach, about a five minute walk from where we´re staying until tomorrow.

This is the view from a friend´s bedroom window at sunset. I wish I could have captured its beauty completely--we are so very blessed. I´m having some trouble downloading the rest of my pictures, and my time is almost up, so we´ll see if I can add more later.

Already there´s talk at every meal table about relationships--who will hook up within the next few weeks, who will marry a Cape Verdean, who will go home to their loved ones. Everywhere I turn, there it is. The pressure is incredible! It´s funny that all the things I was thinking about before leaving are the things everyone else is thinking about too--and apparently what all other Peace Corps Volunteers do. Almost everyone in the last rotation (who are now finishing their first year) started dating each other or Cape Verdeans within the first year! Watch out family, apparently I´m not allowed to leave the Peace Corps without a husband! Haha.

It´s funny how for so long you picture your future, how your life is going to turn out, and even though sometimes the image isn´t crystal clear, you imagine it all coming together, pieces fitting perfectly in a way only our dreams can illuminate. Somehow I´ll find the perfect man, start a wonderful family, do what I love, live with passion every moment--as though it is a given. And even for awhile we have no doubt, no question that it will just work out somehow. And then we have those moments in which we´re punched by reality, seeing that maybe it´s not an arbitrary sense of fate that determines our paths, but our choices. Maybe we choose to settle for something we didn´t picture in the first place rather than wait for an elusive sense of perfection that may never come. Or maybe what we choose can become our perfection, becoming what we never knew we wanted in the first place. Perhaps in that sense it becomes how we choose to react to life. How we choose to live with what comes, to be happy no matter the circumstance. I choose to be open to life, to endure whatever comes, but I still allow that little girl in me to dream that fate will somehow make everything perfection so that one day I turn around and have everything I dreamed of. There´s nothing wrong with having a little of both right? Idealistic realism, maybe...

Well, enough over-analysis. I hate to inform you, but we just found out that we won´t have internet access in São Domingos where we´re staying for homestay. So for the next nine weeks I might not be able to post...we´ll see if we can work something out, but in the meantime I will be journaling on my own, so that when I do get internet again, I´ll update all the posts I´ve written. Then you´ll be all caught up. Sorry! I´m disappointed too, but know that in the meantime I´m having the time of my life so far. A lot of anxieties, a bit of self doubt (can I really start a bunch of programs from scratch??), nervousness about not speaking Creole, but overall so very happy to be here. Keep praying for me and hopefully you´ll hear from me sooner rather than later!!

Onde È Internet???

After two long, full days of sweaty, greasy, exhausting travel I am officially in Praia, Cabo Verde!! I am ridiculously excited, thankfully joined by other ridiculously excited American foreigners who altogether make quite the scene speaking virtually no Portuguese. I´m muddling through, though and hey at least it got me to the Internet! Of which I have only 5 minutes, so this will be a quick tease for you all.

Let me just say, for lack of time and eloquence, that Cabo Verde is beautiful, fun, and everything I expected, so far. It has a very Latin American feel to it for all its tropical beaches and gorgeous plants, but with a more African landscape--drier, browner, and a little less mountainous. The people are very nice and with my clumsy Portuguese I was able to let a woman know I needed Internet and a bank, to which she walked the full several blocks with me. I made myself eat all the fish I was given last night on the plane before I could eat my dessert because I´m determined to get used to it so that I don´t ever have to turn down the food I´m given. I think I´ll be alright...eventually. :) This morning after breakfast we walked the five minutes to the beach where a team of Cape Verdeans was practicing soccer, right on the surf! Don´t worry I took pictures, but I haven´t yet loaded them onto my jump drive, so look for them in the next day or two.

The climate is nice and hot, humid (for us pansy northwesterners), and a bit dusty, but overall so beautiful. I´m in love already, I know I won´t want to leave. The whole group of us that came together and will do our training together is about 32 people, all as wide-eyed, young, and idealistic as myself, so we all get along great! There are two older women, which is great because they provide great life experience that some of us fresh-out-of-college kids can´t. Upon meeting them all I felt a lot better about my packing decisions--I definitley didn´t overpack. My luggage is almost exactly 80 pounds and pretty easy to lug around, while a few girls have had issues with too many bags and too many pounds. It all works out, righ? We have two more days in the main city (Praia), and then we meet our host families on Sunday--yikes! I´m very excited, but so scared that we won´t be able to communicate for quite awhile...I was remembering this morning how I felt meeting my Costa Rican family for the first time, not knowing what to say, stumbling over phrases, clinging to my dictionary, and even then I knew three year´s worth of Spanish. So it will be humbling and challenging, and so worth every minute.

Traveling these past few days has been exhausting, and we are still waiting for the other half of our group to get to Praia (only 17 of us came last night, the rest stayed in Senegal). As we stepped off the fun little Cape Verdean airplane in Praia, we were greeted by a group of excited, cheering, picture-snapping current Volunteers, who have been helpful in showing us the ropes in a place they now love to call their home. It seems that everyone who has served here is so thankful to be in this country. It is and will be such a unique experience, different from mainland Africa, different from Latin America, and different on each island, a world all its own that we have yet to explore and be able to truly define. I will have the time of my life trying.

Look for more updates and pictures soon!

Ready...set...GO!!!!

Well. It's the 4th of July and I'm blessed enough to get to experience the overwhelming and sometimes obscene patriotism (*cough, cough, gag*) by spending it in our nation's capital as I prepare for two years of work representing our country abroad. How appropriate. Don't worry, I love my country and am proud to serve in a way I find honorable, but I can only handle so much red, white, and blue. Truly, though I felt lucky to get to see the fireworks over the Washington Monument. Check it out:

A little blurry, but there it is! My first time seeing the Capitol Building. Wonder what good ole Bush is doing right now?...
And here I am, all greasy from the insane humidity and sleepy from travel and information overload.

That's the abstract blurriness of the Monument...wish I would've had time to grab my camera, this was another girl's picture. Oh well. I have to be a snob and say that Seattle's fireworks are better anyway:).

I wish I could begin to describe the thoughts that are going through my mind as I prepare to leave tomorrow for two exhausting days of travel, but what can I really say at 11:30 when I have to be up and ready by 6:00 am? I suppose all I can say (with the promise of updating more later) is that I am soooo excited and so ready. My confidence in making the decision to come here is repeatedy affirmed, and all in all I feel as prepared as I can be. Throw it at me, World, I can take it! Somewhere inside it's right and true and my doubts of my own capacity are fading. I am confident they will blatantly reappear the moment I attempt Criolu and land at my site all alone, but for now I'm content to let them fade into the background, basking in the glow of following my dreams without hesitance, just pure optimism. It's a nice glow, and I think I'd like to stay for awhile. :)