Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Theme for the week: I DON'T CARE!

8/22/06

Today we finally started taking some concrete steps forward for our youth development project in São Domingos. We got some logistics settled for our girls’ futbol game and got to start doing the best part: going around to the different zones and getting girls to sign up to play and basically beginning to spread the word. I was nervous that we would get no response, that girls would be too shy or uninterested, but our player round-up was a great success. I think the best move we made was to start with the girls in my neighborhood who I already knew were interested—my sisters, my neighbors Sara and Keila, and Nadia and Tiffany’s sisters. These girls are so great, I can’t even describe. I got them to sign the list first and then they took us around the surrounding zones where they knew girls lived, particularly those who like futbol, and signed them all up. What’s awesome is that they literally know just about everyone and where they live, which makes things so much easier than going out on our own not knowing who we’d find. Plus having members of the community with you offers easy access to homes—the girls just walked in any home they wanted and yelled the name of who they were looking for. I think what I liked most was that they were really proactive; they took charge and ran with it, no questions asked, which is how I think it should be. Ideally we PCTs/PCVs shouldn’t be doing a whole lot on our own, we should be motivating the people involved in or affected by the project or event to do most of the work so that they are more invested, more likely to continue it in the future, and they know how to go about it. And I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of girls really interested in playing. Just walking around two zones (neighborhoods) we got 37 girls to sign up! So hopefully this will turn out to be a big deal, if we can get things all organized in time *fingers crossed*. It’s just a great feeling to finally be doing something tangible, something the community can see. It makes you feel that much more integrated, especially when you can walk around and get to know people’s names, their families, where they live, etc. It was just a really fulfilling afternoon, walking around with my favorite girls, arm-in-arm, singing songs about mosquitoes and getting excited about futbol.

Speaking of mosquitoes, I finally broke down tonight and put up my mosquito net—7 weeks into training and 3 weeks before I leave. I thought I could hold off hassling with it until I got to site, but I got so sick of being eaten alive and of walking up in the middle of the night to the pesky buzzing haunting my ears, knowing they’re picking the best spot to attack. It’s enough to make you start going insane, thinking you feel them all over you, starting to twitch. Dramatic, maybe, but I’ve spent many a sleepless night frantically swatting the little turds and crawling out of my skin feeling them all around me and itching like crazy. So the horrendously ugly green net has gone up. And it really is ugly, collapsed on one side so I have just enough room to sit up, an awful pukey color. And apparently it’s coated with some sort of substance that kills flies, who are now dropping “like flies” (haha…ha…) all over my room and creating a nice attractive layer of dead insects. So sexy. At least they’re no longer flying around in my face. Anyway, we’ll see if this nasty contraption successfully salvages what’s left of my arms and legs after the mosquitoes had their way.

8/27/06

So I’m starting to realize that the more languages you have floating around in your head, the more difficult it becomes to comprehend your own. The last two weeks (particularly since we started Portuguese last week) I’ve felt my knowledge and understanding of English fading quickly. Seriously. It’s like my brain can’t hold that much information, so it’s just booting out English little by little as new knowledge of Portuguese and Criolu come in. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s true: people have to repeat things for me all the time and it sometimes takes me awhile to understand what people actually mean. I feel like my ability to understand sarcasm is suffering too—which is the saddest part because I love my sarcasm and now I can’t tell when people are joking. Very unfortunate. Have no fear, I haven’t lost all sense of humor, there’s just like at least a 10 second delay now. I was thinking I was crazy until I realized all the other PCTs are experiencing the same thing: we’re just a big confused mess. It’s hard to explain things (like to family back home) when you can no longer articulate yourself. So I apologize for my lack of eloquence. And forget about Spanish; it has helped me in learning Portuguese because the structure is very similar and if I heard it again I’d understand perfectly, but when I try to speak it, it comes out in mush—a weird combination between Criolu, Portuguese, and what little Spanish is still hiding in corners of my brain (quickly being replaced by the two other similar languages). My LASP friends would be so disappointed. On the flip side, though, if I ever go back to Latin America (or when I go back) I think my Spanish will kick ass because I’ll understand the grammar even better and will be a master at switching between all the languages muddled in my head.

That said, two languages at once is hard, especially when you only really use one of them. Portuguese is hard enough, let alone not being able to practice it, since no one speaks it. As much as I’d like to be fluent by the end of these two years, it’s going to take a lot of outside work, and I may have to settle for being conversational. In class most of what I say comes out in Criolu, and now on the streets I’m starting to mix in Portuguese with the Criolu. My brain doesn’t quite know what to do. But I know soon enough it will all start coming together, it’ll just take time. I can’t wait for the moment when it just clicks and suddenly you feel comfortable and it makes sense. And I’m confident that will happen eventually…I have so much respect for people who can speak like 7 languages, it’s incredible.

8/28/06

Friday night we went to a party of a Volunteer who is COS-ing (close of service-ing), which was a great time, then afterwards (at crazy hours of the morning, of course) went to join the wedding festa that was going on in my neighborhood for the woman who owns one of the mercados and was getting married on Saturday. The thing about Cape Verde, as I think I mentioned before, is that they’ll take any excuse to party for days on end—so a wedding means a party the day before, a party the day of, and a party the next day…and probably some more partying somewhere inbetween. The weddings we’ve seen so far in town have had the actual event in Praia, and then all the partying is done in São Domingos, the bride and groom paraded through town in a decorated car. A good time is had by all, and most of the men in town are drunk by 1 or 2 in the afternoon. Speaking of drunk men, when we stopped by the party on Friday night, we went to the top balcony of the local hotel where everyone was dancing to partake in the fun. One might think that when you notice very few women dancing and an assload of drunken men, it might be best not to partake, but we learned that lesson too late. We stayed on the outer edge of the party, but were eventually lured in to the sea of men who proceeded to act like flies on a spoonful of honey, grabbing at all parts of your body, pulling you in every direction to come dance with them. I don’t know that I have ever had that many guys touching me at one time. I had to yell to my neighbor friend Igor to come rescue me, so I danced safely with him and then ran back to the edge of the crowd with the American guys who were watching and praising the Lord they were male Peace Corps Volunteers, not “cursed” with being female. Well it was an experience anyway. And not the last, I’m positive. I’m becoming good at ignoring the men that call out and make the famous Cape Verdean “pssssciu” sound as you walk down the road: better safe than sorry, right?

* * *

On Saturday all the PCTs went to Tarrafal with the staff and took a little tour inbetween of Picos, Assomada, and the concentration camp in Tarrafal created by Portuguese colonialists. Altogether it was a pretty good day, and I got to learn more about my site, which makes me even more excited to be there in two weeks! Assomada is full of history, particularly because it’s located in the interior, where the slaves ran to flee from Portuguese colonizers in Praia. So a lot of the traditional African culture preserved by the slaves and transformed into its unique Cape Verdean context was borne out of Assomada. The traditional music tabanka, from which funana and batuk came, was originally a way for the slaves to communicate with each other. It involves a rhythmic beat with women slapping their knees with their hands (for lack of drums), women singing to the beat, and men playing conch shells. This music was the only way they could speak to each other under slave rule, so they used it to communicate in all ways, to let each other know that they were going to escape into the hills, to speak of each other’s pain, etc. When they had no food, no water, and were near dead from exhaustion, tabanka was a way for them to stave off the pain and forget about their surroundings. The lady that was telling us all about it gave a demonstration, and you couldn’t help but be caught up in the energy and the rhythm of it all. It made me really excited to be staying there for the next two years, with such a rich musical history. Plus they have this wonderful huge women's market on Wednesdays, which I'm excited to see in action.

After the tabanka lesson, we went to the concentration camp in Tarrafal, which was created in 1936 and modeled after the camps used by the Nazis, complete with torture devices including what was called the frigideira, a dark enclosed space with a few puncture holes for air. This represented the camp’s “slow death” philosophy as nearly all who entered died soon after leaving it. The camp existed primarily for political prisoners, many of whom were Portuguese anti-fascists during World War II. Later, when Cape Verdeans began to be imprisoned there in the 60’s, it was mainly used for rebels against Portuguese colonial rule, those who fought for Cape Verdean’s and Guinea-Bissau’s independence. It was pretty bizarre to find a place like that in Cape Verde; although it wasn’t nearly as dramatic or intense as Auschwitz for example, you don’t expect to find a place like this in the little African islands no one knows about.

We spent the rest of the day on the beach at Tarrafal, one of the nicer beaches on Santiago, and I was happy to be reminded that I will be only a quick hiace ride away from visiting Nina (another PCT who will be living there) as often as possible. I really just love the beach. I love swimming, laying in the sun, everything about it. It was overall just a happy day, relaxed, informative, and of course sunny. It really pays to be doing the Peace Corps in an island nation…such amazing benefits!

8/29/06

So there’s this boy. I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t want to hear it—just hear me out first. The boy is my neighbor and he is simply beautiful. He’s very kind, humble, fun, sensitive, and he has a smile that knocks you clear off your feet. Seriously, he’s just plain gorgeous. He’s worked hard all his life to support his family since his father died when he was six months old, so he’s very family-oriented. And so I’d like to continue to be friends with this boy, who has recently told me (very shyly) that he likes me (how very kindergarten) and wants to come visit me in Assomada to get to know me better. Hmmm…I told him I wouldn’t mind. Now before you start to lecture me, understand that I plan to take our friendship at turtle pace, not to mention not putting expectations on the situation. If anything, it could just be a fun flirtation. So stop worrying (because I know you are, Mom)! The awkward part of it all is a good friend of mine (a PCT) likes him as well, so he is being very cautious not to hurt her feelings. Thank goodness in two weeks I won’t have to worry too much about it—she’ll be on another island and we can preserve our friendship without drama, it’s the last thing any of us needs. Damn dateable Cape Verdeans (we have all decided that Cape Verdeans, being the culture that it is here, are very dateable: not as big of a leap as it might be in other Peace Corps countries for other PCVs trying to make relationships work in drastically different cultures). And so there’s my story about this boy, which I figured I could share with you all, being my avid blog-readers and all (all three of you…:)). Who doesn’t love sharing their thoughts on the world wide web for the whole world to see?

Monday, August 21, 2006

Only when you´ve crossed the river can you truly say there´s a lump on the crocodile´s snout

Well kiddos, time for another update, only this time, I actually know for sure where I´m going!!! I will officially be living in Assomada on the island of Santiago (the island I´m on now) working for two ICM centers and a CEJ (youth center). We had our official site announcement ceremony on Saturday, during which we all received a balloon with a proverb and a person´s name and site inside. We then had to pop the balloon, read that person´s proverb (mine is the title for this blog), and then announce where the person was going...it was really a unique way to have us all involved in each other´s exciting news and we all really enjoyed it:) Afterwards, our families all came to the center and we had a cross-cultural event with American food we had cooked and Cape Verdean food they had cooked, and then danced to Batuk, which is a traditional Cape Verdean music/dance. I took videos, don´t you all wish you could see?? Haha, maybe later. First I have to figure out how to get to a computer that will let me upload pictures. In the meantime, I am sending them to my Mom and Paige, so if you really want to see some pictures, bug them about it! Hehe, they´ll love me for that one...

Okay, so as before I´ve attached my journals, not as much this time as before, but we´re getting busier and busier, so there will be more to say later. Enjoy and be sure to update me on how you are all doing! PS on the link section to the right, my friend Nadia´s blog was added so if you want to check out another Trainee´s experience, feel free. Take care!

8/16/06

Now that the rains have started (the first downpours came a few weeks ago), Sao Domingos is quickly turning greener than we all thought it could in such a short time. Tiny tufts of green creep out of every crack and crevice, and the hillsides are starting to look more and more like fertile Latin America and less and less like arid Africa. The best part about the rains is how excited Cape Verdeans get. They’re constantly in a good mood in the house when it rains, so much so that you might believe the rain brings some sort of magical powers with it. And I’m starting to think it does, because not two days after the first rain, plants were growing like crazy everywhere you looked. Families immediately headed for the hills to start planting corn, peanuts, etc. and things started sprouting right away, like the flag had been waved for some sort of secret race that began among the plots of land. It’s really just a good time to be in Cape Verde—it’s more beautiful, people are happy, the air is fresher (though more humid), and resources are in greater quantity (though not necessarily in abundance). When I see my mom in the mornings after it rains, she gives me this huge grin and thumbs up and yells “Txuba!!” (rain). It comes up in most conversations, in which you’re expected to be as ecstatic as they are, since of course rain is the most glorious thing that can occur on this earth. And here, it’s kind of true, it’s so much more necessary for survival than we’re used to with all of our many ways of securing water sources. And so usually I am just as ecstatic, especially since it’s a lot warmer and only comes in quick spurts, rather than the cold rain that lasts without end for months at a time in Seattle, which I hated. In Cape Verde the rain can’t be depressing, everyone’s too happy for the promise it contains. And it’s contagious, you can’t help but share in their joy and catch yourself yelling “Txuba!!” all over the place. Plus it’s fun because the rain usually causes a giant Willy Wonka-style chocolate river that runs rapidly through the back of town. Makes you want to jump in…until you remember it’s mud.
* * *
Tomorrow the CD (Community Development) group starts computer model school for two days where we have to teach participants from the community how to do basic functions on a computer (i.e. turn computer on, point and click, open programs, save a file, use Paint). It’s primarily for the IT subgroup, but the rest of us have to be involved on the chance we may have to informally show community members how to use computers—which is of course always more fun to do in Criolu. The “awesome” part is that there are maybe 12 working computers in the town that are pieced together from random parts, a jumbled mass of mousse, monitors, keyboards, etc. The second “awesome” part is that we’ve had about 2 days to prepare, which includes informing the community and gathering participants, preparing the lab (combining parts to see if any of the computers work), getting a well-developed lesson plan together (in Criolu), and coming up with a back-up plan in case there’s no electricity (at least a 50% chance). Awesome. True Peace Corps style, as per how the rest of training has gone so far. But I will say this: I’m thankful that these 9 weeks have prepared me for what it will look like to organize things at site, how it will really look when trying to accomplish anything. Crazy mixed-up schedules, problems with communication, changes in plans every five minutes, flying by the seat of your pants, etc. So thank you, Peace Corps. I now know what to expect when coming into a Cape Verdean organization with an American mindset—initial frustration and moderate cursing, followed by a “What the hell, it’ll happen eventually” island mentality. Awesome. Actually I kind of like how it brings out your ingenuity and flexibility, not to mention self-motivation: if you don’t force yourself to sit down and work to plan/organize things, they won’t get done. And all of this is what I’ve been mentally preparing myself for during the past year. I expected a bureaucratic US organization to be exactly as so. It’s how things work, I suppose.

8/18/06

So here’s the real story about my site (even though announcements aren’t until tomorrow): my site is secured, because I and my director want me at the all-girls ICM in Assomada, however the housing situation is the problem, and makes me want to cry a little. The option Peace Corps is initially authorized to give me is to live with a current female Volunteer starting her second year; additionally there’s another Trainee going to Assomada whom I can live with, but he’s male so we have to agree on it together on our own and then PC will approve it. The problem is that the female Volunteer strongly doesn’t want a roommate for her last year, so I talked with the male Trainee, who also wants to live alone, but would suck it up if I needed him to. Wow, what wonderful options, apparently no one truly wants me to be with them and one way or the other someone will end up “stuck” with me. Sweet. And it has nothing to do with me personally, there’s not necessarily a personality clash since none of us really know each other all that well, they just don’t want any roommate at all, but I have to go somewhere. Screwed either way I go. I know it will all work out, and things can be adjusted once we get to site (someone can move to a different site, etc.), but I don’t like the feeling of living with someone who doesn’t truly want to be living with me and will secretly be bitter the whole time. So that’s the story of Courtney’s next two years’ living arrangement. Like the last kid picked in dodgeball or something. What I keep telling myself is that no matter what the living arrangements end up being, the most important part is that I integrate into my community and fully immerse myself in the job I will be doing, that I put all of my heart into the youth in the community and into encouraging change and writing my thesis. Roommates are just a secondary concern. And we’re all here to serve, right? So they can’t be too upset, one of them will just have to be flexible. Anyway, after tomorrow I’ll be able to tell you the final resolution…
* * *
Speaking of my job at site, I found out when we visited the ICM in Praia that if I want to, I can request to act as an edukador social, which is an informal social worker who doesn’t have an MSW (masters in social work), but still is able to do many of the tasks of a social worker, like making house visits, working with the families, etc. This is really awesome for me, because it means I can get some great social work experience under my belt for when I go back to the States and potentially try to work in that field, or if I want to work in international social work for awhile, I will have a pretty sweet resume to carry with me. Not to mention it’s a chance to jump in and do exactly what I have been wanting to do for the last year. I think it will be really helpful for me to be able to “test-drive” international social work and see if it’s where I fit or what I want to be doing after Peace Corps. Plus, with the conditions of social services in the developing world, any social work job in the future will look like paradiseJ. Okay, not really, it’s never an easy job, but with the infrastructural problems to complicate an already difficult situation, it may shape up to be a tough two years here. But the beauty I’m starting to realize of being in Cape Verde is that it isn’t in the same situation as mainland or sub-Saharan Africa, or really any other countries. Cape Verde is really a baby in the scheme of things, a brand new nation with a new Constitution and a new government that have the benefit of existing successful systems throughout the world to build off of. They are in a unique position being just above the poorest of the African countries, in that they are on the brink between poverty and great possibility (not to deny that all African countries have great possibility, but there’s a bit less work to be done before that is reached), giving us great opportunity to make some significant change. The orphanage system at the ICMs in Cape Verde have only been around for 3 years—that’s nothing! So we youth development people are hoping that there will really be some room for change, if people are willing. Nu bai odja!

8/18/06

I finally got to talk to my sisters the other day about this whole pikena deal, where guys have several pikenas (girls-on-the-side) at the same time, a situation I have been trying to understand since I got here. I wanted to see what girls actually think of the situation and if they’re completely fine with it, to see if I’m crazy for thinking it sucks. Apparently I’m not. Vandiza told me she doesn’t like it and can’t understand why some girls accept it. She won’t be with any guy who has pikenas and has been with her one namoradu for over a year, before which she was with another guy for 5 years until he started collecting his pikenas and she said “See ya.” My older sister Tania was in the same situation where she found out her boyfriend had other girls and she left. Apparently now she doesn’t want to get married at all. I wonder if that’s because she doesn’t feel she has the option of being with someone without sharing him with several other women. If so, that’s sad. But Vandiza assured me there are plenty of good guys out there, to which I replied that I have pretty high expectations—just to make sure she doesn’t start setting me up with the neighborhood “rapas”. In any case, it’s reassuring to hear that it might not solely be a deeply-rooted cultural institution, that some girls are making the decision to stand up for themselves or how they feel about the situation. And I suppose if some women are okay with this pseudo-polygamous situation (and there are plenty who are) and can lead content lives sharing their men, who am I to jump in and say they’re living incorrectly? Just because it makes me uncomfortable doesn’t mean it makes them uncomfortable, and really it’s been a part of a lot of African cultures from “the beginning”. I think the important part is that women aren’t being pushed down, hindered from making decisions that affect their happiness and their life directions. And it seems that the attitude for change for women is starting to grow among the young generation in Cape Verde, or at least is at the very beginning stage. We’ll say if any of this is just hot air, my own perceptions and thoughts, when I start integrating into my new community and get to know all the women and their feelings.

Saturday, August 12, 2006

Being the change we want to see in the world


What a glorious week full of internet!! Here I am again, ready to give a quick update, and realizing more and more that internet is a double-edged sword, a blessing and a curse at the same time because it always makes me happy at first, and then I quickly move to sadness thinking about home and friends, etc. It´s like an addiction, you start needing it more and more, the quick fix to make you feel a short high...maybe not having it in São Domingos is a good thing.

Anyhow, I won´t write much because I´m writing on the fly, nothing pre-prepared for you. Life is good, tomorrow we´re going to Tarrafal, the beach I mentioned earlier, and hopefully we´ll get to work on the tan a little. Tonight a bunch of us are going to try and cook our first real Cape Verdean meal by ourselves, we´ll see how it turns out! Hopefully by the time I get home I´ll have learned how to take care of myself in the kitchen...

They just finished paving the new road in São Domingos, which has turned out not to be the greatest thing (in my opinion). It of course opens the town up to more transportation and opportunities, but things have just gotten much more dangerous. The drivers drive ten times as fast, and just this morning, a little boy flew off the back of a helix (one of the public open-back trucks) and smashed his head on the concrete...we´re pretty sure he didn´t make it, as they grabbed him off the ground and rushed him to the hospital, no ambulance, no backboard, nothing. It´s very sad, but the youth development people (me and three other Trainees) are planning a youth day with a girl´s futbol tournament and we´re hoping to incorporate street safety into the day as our overall message. Hopefully we can make people more aware of the dangers, as I´m sure they´re already becoming.

Anyhow, I should get off the computer now, but I might get another chance to hop on tomorrow, so hopefully I´ll have more to report. In the meantime, it looks like I might be in Assomada living with another Trainee named Nick, working at an all-girls ICM...we´ll know after next Saturday! Okay, I love and miss you all. Take care.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Ahh, Michael Jackson would be proud...

So here I am enjoying delightful internet once again, very briefly to the tune of "Beat it"...and it looks like once again I might not be able to upload pictures. Bummer. But don´t worry, once I get to site, I will have much more regular internet access and better computers, this one is kind of a fluke. Anyhow, as per my previous post, I´m just including all my journals in order, so enjoy the journey through the last couple weeks! Much love, everyone...

7/30/06

One of the things I like best about Sao Domingos is that it has that small community feel to it, yet there’s always something going on or somewhere to be. Any excuse to throw a festa (party) and a large boisterous group of Cape Verdeans is there. Example: last night my neighborhood (and that of two other Trainees that live nearby—all our little sisters are best friends) threw a block party complete with excellent dance music and more chicken than I’ve ever seen in one place in my life. It was a good time. The fun part about these block parties is that they run on island time, so they all wander in around 10-11pm or whenever they feel like it, and then supposedly the parties last until 6am (I left last night around 1am, so I can’t say if anyone actually stayed that late). All the families in the neighborhood (primarily about 5-6 families) are best friends and spend all their time together. Next weekend we’re all going to Tarrafal, a supposedly beautiful beach a couple hours away—all 35-ish of us in 2 hiaces. It should be great, we’re a pretty fun bunchJ. The whole area feels very interconnected, like one big family (of course half the time they actually are family, cousins and nephews and aunts and uncles—you’re never really sure who belongs to what family). My sisters are always over at the neighbors’ houses and neighbors are always coming and going in our house, playing cards and Chinese jumprope in between. The group of young girls (Carla and her friends) are my favorite because they always run up and give me hugs and then grab my hand and pull me down the street to whatever exciting thing they’re off to see. The best part: they spend the bulk of their time choreographing dances to Cape Verdean music, which they perform anywhere and everywhere as often as they get the chance. They definitely made an appearance last night at the festa, and let me just tell you this—these girls know how to shake their butts like there’s no tomorrow. So awesome. I think it’s one of the first things you’re taught as a child;). Watching them reminds me of how Lindsey, Paige, and I used to choreograph dances to Mariah Carey and perform them for our doting parents.

I can’t say enough how much I love this concept of closeknit community, that speaks strongly to what I’ve always wanted and still hope to have. A support network, familiarity, an ease of interaction that gives life depth and simplicity simultaneously. Predictable, yet rarely boring. I say this now, though I’m sure a lifetime in a small rural community might send me overboard. I suppose that’s why it’s great that community transcends geography and we can have networks across borders and continents of people who understand and care about each other. I love being able to hear from you all how life carries on at home, while knowing that you are equally as interested in my life here in Africa. Yet I can’t help but note the difference between day-to-day life in the States and life here in this small community. There’s something about being able to just walk into your neighbor’s house unannounced and join in whatever game they’re playing or conversation they’re having. To be able to always walk through town and see someone you know, or if not at least be able to expect “hellos” from most people you see along the way. And to make passing through town to greet people a priority in your day to begin with. I like living in a community where I don’t look around me and see individualistic competition or the values of market-driven capitalism superseding the need to support one another. In a small town like Sao Domingos you can have a dozen mini-mercados, all selling virtually the same thing, and they all do just fine because it’s understood that you spread your business out and take care of the others around you—understood both by clients and the businesses themselves, who will urge you to go to Maria Antonia’s bar tonight because you went to theirs two nights in a row and she could use the business. This setting makes micro-finance and micro-credit projects very feasible, because they don’t necessarily have to compete with larger corporations or monopolies (yet…just wait for globalization to take over).

8/6/06

I haven’t really journaled all week for various reasons, so I’m going to attempt to update all at once. Get ready for long-winded Courtney.

We’ll start with yesterday. Yesterday was what I’ll call my first shitty day in Cape Verde. And I almost feel bad calling it shitty, because really not all that much specifically happened, at least nothing huge or life-altering. But I feel justified in allowing myself to have a bad day once in awhile and not let it mean I’m not happy in general. Come on—I’m adjusting to a new culture, frustration happens. Anyway, yesterday was just full of me feeling sick and generally down-in-the-mouth. It was one of those days when you want or need a little extra rest, but you get the opposite—not five consecutive minutes alone. One of those days when you don’t understand 90% of what’s going on around you because you’ve suddenly lost all mental capacity to comprehend or speak Criolu. One of those days when you just plain miss home, want someone to allow you to be sad, want your Mom. Which is what I spent most of the day looking forward to—the opportunity to talk to my whole family all at once. Mom’s side of the family had a reunion, so everyone was going to be altogether at once, and so she was going to call so I could talk to everyone, including Lindsey since it was her birthday. Instead, the house phone chose that exact moment (literally, it was working ten minutes before when my dad called) to stop working, apparently because it was going to rain and the phone poops out when it’s going to rain (damn psychic phone). So no phone calls for me. I went to my friend Tiffany’s house to try and use her phone and calling card, called every number I had and left three messages on cell phones, which I wasn’t even sure they were getting. I waited to see if they would call me on that phone, every minute growing sadder and more exhausted. No one called. I went home and cried for the first time since I got here. It’s so strange because I knew before I left for the Peace Corps that communication would probably be difficult, and I’ve been fortunate to even be able to talk to my family at all, but it still broke me down last night. Just one of those moments when all you want is the one thing you can’t have, and you’re helpless. And it won’t be the last of those moments, but they’re not the end of the world. Really I suppose that should be the least of my problems. But man I just wanted to hear everyone’s voices and remember that I am loved. Oh well. Happy birthday, Lindsey. Sorry I couldn’t pull through for you.

So after that I got dragged to a late-night festa where I was forced to dance in a hot sweaty room until 2 am. I was beyond exhausted. Although I will say this: the festa was pretty entertaining, well worth the exhaustion. We couldn’t figure out exactly what the purpose of the party was (probably just an excuse to dance), but everyone had to wear black and pay to get in (presumably to cover food and drink costs. They said the black had something to do with witches…I think they just wanted an excuse to look fancy. It was all young people, about 17-28ish years old, and all about crazy dancing and letting loose. Picture a truly traditional African version of Dirty Dancing—except the parents know about the dancing and support it, and would probably take part in it if it wasn’t so late at night. Really, though, observing this was exactly what I pictured an African dance party (minus the indigenous outfits and surroundings) would look like. It was like for one night the true African spirit snuck out for everyone to see. No modernized European influence, just tribal-like shrieking and fast, energetic movement. In the middle of the festa they busted out a pastry and birthday candles and started screaming the name of the person celebrating a birthday. Cape Verdeans definitely know how to celebrate a birthday in style—nothing mediocre or somber about it. They swept him off the ground and carried him high above the crowd, singing at the tops of their lungs. Sometime after that they busted out the food: huge platters of rice, meat, and vegetables. Cape Verdeans can’t have a group of people together without having food present, and lots of it. And they’re so sad (or confused) when you don’t have the appetite to eat a large meal at 1:00 in the morning. Anyway, the party continued on to the wee hours and all in all was a pretty good time, though it might have been more fun if I wasn’t so ridiculously tired.
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So we’re all starting to get pretty anxious to hear our site announcements, which is somewhere between 1-2 weeks away (it changes every day). Not knowing exactly where you’re going can make it hard to mentally prepare yourself for service. For me, it is apparently a little more difficult to find a placement because I have to be doing my thesis at the same time, so even though I want to be in a rural site, I have to have regular electricity and semi-regular internet access. It seems likely that I might end up staying on Santiago working at an ICM in a community called Santa Catalina near Assomada, but I’m not entirely sure. I’m trying not to think about it and just let what happens happen. It’s just weird to think about us all separating off to various islands, not being able to hang out all the time and have fun on the weekends together. It’s nice to have a group of people you can experience all of this with…but I’ll be the first to admit that it’ll be great to move out on my own and try to regain a tiny bit of independence. Being under the wing of a large bureaucratic U.S. institution can be reassuring and frustrating at the same time, more frequently the latter during training…though I’m sure it will get better.

It’s interesting how suddenly I’ve switched from spending time with Karla to spending most of my time with Vandiza, my 21-year-old sister. I get the strange feeling sometimes that Karla got bored of me—she’s 13, it happens. Vandiza’s a fun girl, spunky and social and still very youthful. The hopeful, naïve little girl in her pops out every once in awhile, and I’m reminded that even with adult responsibilities and a strength most American 21-year-olds wouldn’t imagine or need to have, girls in the developing world sometimes go through emotional development in similar ways as girls in modernized countries, feeling themselves out in small pieces at a time and finding their place in the community. She is still often self-conscious, worried that she’s not pretty, and not ready to settle down with a husband and a family (she giggles at every mention of boyfriends). One minute she’s fulfilling arduous household chores and the next she’s showing me the old Britney Spears picture she found in a magazine in Praia and posted on her wall, asking with anxious eyes if I love Britney as much as she does. She is competitive and fierce, yet soft and girly when she wants to be, begging me to let her paint my toenails. They’re pink now. Spending time with her (not to mention the rest of my family, and hell, all Cape Verdeans) has shattered my personal space bubble completely. Luckily in some situations that bubble wasn’t too big (or important to me) to begin with. My sides are constantly pinched, fingers interlaced with various girls’, hair tangled with curious hands, and even my chest grabbed by my nonchalant older sister Tania (in a 5-seond language lesson as she passed by, she first pointed to my nose—“what’s this?”—then shoulder—“what’s this?”—then latched onto a boob—“what’s this?”—like it was nothing). The space issue doesn’t really bother me, in fact when it’s my sisters or other women it’s often comforting. Because there’s no stigma here: people touch, they’re open with their bodies, and it doesn’t usually have any type of sexual connotation. The traditional dance funana (very close with lots of hip action) is learned almost as soon as a child can walk, and girls, siblings, adults, everyone really, does it together and at every chance they get. What looks very sexual (and possibly for us awkward) to Americans is just a way to have fun and move to the music for Cape Verdeans. The instant the music comes on a group of Cape Verdeans is there dancing and grabbing your hand to show you how to do it, erupting with glee when you shake your butt like they love to do. And somehow they have all mastered the ability to shake only heir butts while perfectly balancing cups of liquid on their heads. Amazing. Add that to the list of things I want to be able to do by the time I get home.

8/7/06

My mom likes to sit down and watch me eat every meal—every single on, all the way through. At first I found it odd, maybe she’s worried about what I eat, making sure I eat it all, fascinated by me, who knows? But I’ve realized that she memorizes every detail of what I eat, taking note of the things I eat most of, what I don’t eat, and changes her meals accordingly. Extreme, I know, but I think it’s kind of sweet, her way of showing she cares, her way of taking care of me. And also a way to avoid wasting food—why bother with food I won’t end up eating? Plus her sitting with me has proved a challenge for me to continuously think of new things to say or talk about during the frequent awkward silences. Sometimes I just look at her and smile, and she always just laughs. She is truly beautiful.

We often have the sporadic “isn’t-America-great-and-aren’t-you-all-rich?” conversation, to which I stumble through an answer of “Well, no…I mean not everyone…I mean yes, some people have a lot of money, but not everyone…” I try to explain that America is complex, that there are lots of extremes with plenty of grey area, that we have lots of homeless people, and that we aren’t overwhelmed with the plentiful abundance of jobs for all who seeks them. But I always catch myself pausing to think that, well, yes we are rich in a relative sense, in comparison to most. Really my life is vastly different from others because of the wealth and opportunity I’ve experienced. To pretend we don’t experience a certain privilege in our comfortable lives is almost insulting. How confusing it must be to hear from the white girl with her own car in America and a ticket to Cape Verde that no, not all Americans are rich. No wonder she always gives me an amused look of disbelief. It’s interesting to think where some of the mistaken perceptions must come from—she was surprised to find out we have mosquitoes in the States too—but I suppose if your only real exposure to the US is one past Peace Corps Trainee and brief clips from a Brazilian novella called “America”, you might end up making up your own oasis-like idea of what life must be in that faraway wealthy country. Mama always jokes that Karla will eventually come to the States and I can show her what life is like. Her perception of America is much like the more rural areas we encountered in Central America (and assuredly throughout the rest of the developing world), an idealized notion of the “American dream” that represents everything they feel they are lacking. And I suppose so much of that perception is or may be determined by the country’s interaction with the US: Cape Verde doesn’t have a past history or current experience of violent or negative relations that were/are prevalent in other parts of the world—instead, many of their families live in the States and send back money to Cape Verde. Of course they must think there’s endless money in America. And of course each person’s opinion will be different depending on their own experience.

8/8/06

Today was another excellent day for CD class, in a different way than the day we went to SOS. A Volunteer in Mindelo, Sao Vicente who works for an emergency infant center under an ICM (Cape Verde’s short-term orphanage organizations I will be working for) came to speak to our class about the problems with youth in Cape Verde. He gave a very realistic perspective of what it will truly be like to work for an ICM or other organizations that work with severely disadvantaged youth—very frustrating. At the center, they temporarily house kids up to age 12 who have dangerous or abusive home situations, who are usually sent to the Center when the police have been called and social workers come to remove the child(ren) from the home. There are so many holes and problems with social services here it’s hard to know where to begin. They are desperately understaffed, underfunded, and under-motivated. The system is inherently flawed because little is being done (or is able to done) to work with families to change behavior or increase understanding/awareness of child-rearing or child development, nor is much done to rehabilitate families or provide counseling, treatment, etc. Instead, kids come to the Center for 9 months, are sent back to their families, then return to the Center again so that it becomes a revolving door for the same troubled children, who come back worse (i.e. with more problems) each time. There are no laws in Cape Verde regulating the behavior of minors (i.e. criminality), and therefore there isn’t a juvenile court in existence. The relationships between social workers and judges who decide where these youth are to go are apparently very informal and superficial, and kids are almost always returned to their abusive families. There is a temporary-care system through the ICM (like short-term foster care), but it is under-promoted with a shortage of willing couples/families ready to take on more children. In Cape Verde, it is an odd concept that someone outside of your biological/extended family could take your child—even if you aren’t adequately providing for your children or even care about them. So families want their children back home, even if there are ten other kids, none of whom they can really take care of. This is a major problem in Cape Verde—they have so many kids and a very high teen pregnancy rate (especially since males generally have several girlfriends, or pikenas, all over the place), with not enough resources to help these kids and families. The result is a very apathetic attitude—“These underprivileged kids are beyond our capacity to help, so why bother if we can’t even provide for our own children?” It’s a very lost-cause mentality, truly sad, but one in which there will hopefully be room for improvement. The government of CV and provision of services are so new that it will understandably take some time to get things up and running smoothly. And what better time to be able to get involved, when things are being molded and change can be made…it’s quite a challenge to think about, something that needs a lot of work and that runs the risk of feeling overwhelming, but I’m encouraged that small improvements can be made. It was also very helpful for the Volunteer to describe the real conditions, the real hardships, and the real attitudes he has encountered. How depressing it can be to know that all the children have scabies (I won’t describe the awful condition in detail, just trust me that it’s miserable) and play in sandboxes filled with cat feces, and there’s little you can do to help them and people are reluctant to assist in preventive measures. How helpless you can sometimes feel. And it’s something that I know will be hard for me (not taking the job home, not carrying the weight of these poor children on my shoulders), but something I think I can and want to overcome, something I want to challenge myself with and that can stretch me in a lot of ways. I suppose overall today was a day of healthy, encouraging realism—not everything is perfect or runs smoothly, and there is a lot of frustrating and heartbreaking work to be done. I’m ready to go to it. It’s where I truly want to be right now.