Ohhh, AIDS

11/21/06

So. I am officially a cook. I now actually make complete dishes, quite edible ones at that, and am even starting to get creative! I just had to share this because I’m pretty proud of myself, I’ve been waiting quite awhile for me to get my ass in gear and learn to cook. I now have perfected a goat cheese fettuccini that Mel says is restaurant-worthy, rosemary chicken that gained the approval of a picky European, pizza that rivals anything Cape Verde has thus far been able to put out, and grão di biku that while not entirely aesthetically appealing, tastes just as good as any I’ve had made by a Cape Verdean. I can now play around with several types of pasta (since it’s easy and accessible here in Assomada), can make excellent garlic mashed potatoes, co-created amazing chicken quesadillas with Mel, and made a pretty good cream of potato soup with cheese (of course). I baked cookies with the girls, and they turned out wonderful, turning Cape Verdeans (and apparently Italians) on to the wonderful world of American obesity-inducing baked goods. I plan to introduce brownies next, if I can get my hands on cocoa. In the dinner department next I’ll need to perfect a fish dish or two to be well-rounded (at least by Cape Verdean standards, since once I get back to the States the chances of me making fish are virtually nonexistent)—we’ll go for bifi di atum (tuna steaks), my favorite Cape Verdean dish. And then cachupa, the national CV dish. That one’s nice and hearty, stays in your stomach the whole day.

So Mel and Nick taking me under their wing in the kitchen has thus far proved successful, the proof of which is currently gathering on my ass. The first thing my boss Aguido said to me when he saw me the other day was “Oh, you’ve gotten fatter, how great!” Exactly what every American girl wants to hear, but it’s to be expected. And it’s quite the compliment here, they think it’s more attractive and have been telling me all along that I need to be fatter. Well it worked. And Aguido’s comment worked also: I finally got myself out of bed at 6am this morning to go on a run. I hope to make that a more regular thing, rather than the fat comments. As much as I don’t really care if my weight fluctuates (God bless crossing cultures and its affect on your vanity), I don’t want to ignore it and become unhealthy. So the running begins.

* * *

Things at work are as crazy busy as ever. We’re gearing up for the concelho’s holiday, Nha Santa Catarina, which is on Saturday, and then next week the International Fight Against AIDS Day, so the CEJ is chock full of activities that started Sunday and will go till about the 8th of December. I was put in charge of organizing a door-to-door AIDS campaign to talk to all the families in the area about HIV/AIDS and pass out information (stupid since not all families can or want to read, but the country is overflowing with small useless pamphlets, so why not circulate them?). We’re also having theater, music, poetry, and capoeira (a Brazilian dance/self-defense art form) in our main plaza, anonymous HIV testing done by the hospital, passing out of medical supplies to those already infected with the virus, and a silent march through town on the actual day, the 1st of December. We’re doing a workshop with local fisherman and people who sell fish and other food in the markets about hygiene and health practices to prevent disease among them and the people buying their food. Needless to say the CEJ I’m helping at is pretty well organized and already programmed countless activities before I got here. So I go to the meetings, give moral support, a pat on the back, and a few suggestions here and there. And help organize the youth to participate. And hopefully I’ll get the girls at the Center to write a batuque song about trust and respect in relationships that they can present during one of the cultural afternoons where music is presented. There’s about a zillion other activities we’re doing within all of this, in addition to the task of trying to plan next year’s PST which will be held here in Assomada, which all adds up to not a second free throughout the day. And a cranky housemate who apparently finds it stressful to pick up our electric bill on his own. But that’s besides the point…

At the Center, I feel like I haven’t been there a full day in awhile…okay since last Wednesday, but really that is awhile. So I miss my girl time, but after all this AIDS stuff settles down I’ll have more time and a slightly more regular schedule to spend with them. Currently, Zelda is out of the institution in Praia and is staying with Andreia in Orgãos, who brings Zelda with her to the Center every day, which is interesting, though admittedly better than her situation at the institution, or solely at the Center for that matter. She is much calmer, taking her medication (though she constantly gets frustrated at taking it and says it gives her a stomachache), and I got a glorious glimpse of the Zelda I missed. She came up to the room I was working in yesterday to sit with me (and probably to get away from the 20 other girls yelling and running around in the Center), and started talking with her old hopeful and curious self. She asked me to sing the song she heard me sing for the girls (it’s a worship song that has been translated in Portuguese and is on a CD they constantly play; in English it’s “Here I am to Worship”), which I gladly did just for her. Usually when the girls ask me to sing it (about once a day) I tell them they need to pick a new song because I barely liked it before I sang it for the millionth time, but for her I had no problem, just to see the smile on her face was worth it. And it’s not a bad songJ.

11/30/06

Yet another glimpse at the overwhelming prospect of updating everything all at once. We’ll start with AIDS. We did the door-to-door campaign to tell people that AIDS exists (most people already know that) and that they should be afraid, very afraid. Not my chosen words, but certainly those that came out of the mouths of the youth I was walking around with. Not much was said to most people, just “AIDS exists, still haven’t cured it, read this pamphlet.” When it was my turn to speak I tried to elaborate more, but it’s awkward standing there when they don’t care much what you’re saying; and to be honest, sometimes I didn’t care much what I was saying. I was cranky and tired and felt the campaign was shaping up to be moderately useless, except to get rid of pamphlets and tell people about the march we’re having on the 1st, World Fight Against AIDS Day. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we did it, and you never know who will benefit from just saying a few words—and you never know who might stumble across the pamphlet, be able to read it, and truly increase their awareness. But I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a better option, a better route to go that doesn’t just leave them with the responsibility of reading (which many won’t) and that actually reaches for a change in mentality rather than increased use of condoms. Of course, protect yourself, but what about trust in relationships, acknowledging responsibility and the seriousness of your decisions and their effects on others? I don’t know, overall something just felt futile about it.

The next day we finally made it to the festivities they’d been having at night at the end of the main street—food stalls, music, drinking, etc. Wasn’t very impressed, seeing as all I encountered was a bunch of drunk Cape Verdean men treating me to the famous “rape eyes” I’m ever so fond of. We were sitting down when two of them sat with us, one of which proceeded to stare unceasingly at me, not even pausing for a moment, just continually repeating “you’re so beautiful; here, have some ponche”. I was so uncomfortable, I mentioned what should have been obvious to my housemate and PCV friend, who did nothing but laugh. So finally I got up to leave, as obviously they were going to make no move to leave the table. Thanks, guys. My ability to laugh it off only continues to a certain point until it’s just not fun. That’s not how I’ll choose to spend my evenings.

The next day was better, it was the official Santa Catarina Day that everything had been building up to. In the afternoon, people have big lunch parties at their houses, and you’re supposed to go from house to house to enjoy people’s company and excellent feasts. This meant I ate three lunches on Saturday, and my stomach wasn’t thanking me—so, so full. After that I took a group of girls out to see the festivities and make popcorn at my house, since they were cooped up all day, nowhere to go. Then at night, the fun began and Assomada began filling to well beyond what I thought was its capacity. I’ve never seen Assomada so full of people in my life! I forgot where I was, it felt like the Puyallup Fair on steroids, nowhere to walk, just faces streaming past you. People came from all over the island (and even from other islands) to enjoy the holiday and the concerts that took place on Saturday and Sunday. You could pick out the Praia people from the Assomada people easily: those with BMWs and jewelry came from the city, and those from the almost-city just tried to hard. International groups came to play on a stage I never thought could exist here—it was like a high-class concert in the States! It was quite the set-up with strobe lights, fog machines, and an intense sound system. Very few moments that night did I feel like I was in the Peace Corps. Every day it feels more and more like that. But it was really a great night, I saw virtually everyone I knew from the area there, ate delicious food (pork on a stick—so amazing), got to see PCVs from all over the island, and hung out with Andreia and her boyfriend listening to music all night long. Literally, we stayed out until about 6 am. We left because we were tired, but there was still another group or two to play, so bands were going until about 9 in the morning. And people stayed! When we left, it was still an enormous mass of people. That’s how they roll here.

* * *

On Sunday Peace Corps had our Thanksgiving party, since it’s obviously not a celebrated holiday here and everyone had to work on Thursday. So we had a big potluck in Praia at the Embassy Rec Center, where for the second time in one weekend I ate myself silly. There was so much amazing food I didn’t know what to do with myself. Pumpkin pie, pecan pie, amazing turkey, cranberry sauce sent from the States, garlic mashed potatoes, sweet potato soufflé, fruit salad, three kinds of stuffing, a curry cauliflower dish, and homemade chocolate chip cookies. My mouth is watering just remembering. We each took home several plates of leftovers. So all in all, I was ridiculously spoiled this weekend. Plus Monday was an unofficial holiday in Santa Catarina because of the party (I think they refer to it as “recovery day”), so I got an actual day of rest, much needed. I hiked to this extremely large tree (I think the largest in Cape Verde, or at least on the island) about 30 minutes from my house to just be alone, relax, and read a book. I took a little lunch and sincerely enjoyed myself, until a group of young boys came to play and climb the tree. They were nice kids, I took pictures of them, we talked a bit, and then they left me to my much-appreciated solitude. When I got home I washed clothes for several hours, so much work (but it’s good for me). So I must say I enjoyed a satisfying three days, no complaints.

* * *

On Tuesday of this week, a girl came to my house looking for my friend Mel (one of the other girl PCVs in Assomada). Nick directed her to the right house, and several minutes later, Mel called the house a little frantic, wanting me to come over and deal with the girl that was now sitting in her kitchen crying. So I went over and talked to the girl. It turns out her father drinks a lot and has a habit of beating her. Something happened the day before and her father told her to pack her bag and leave, no longer welcome in the house. She spoke with her friends, who told her it would be a good idea to look for foreigners, who are often able to help—that’s what they’re here for, right? Her friends were volunteers at the CEJ I work at, so they knew we lived in town and that I might be able to help her out since I exist here for all things youth. Hence she was here at Mel’s doorstep. She looked terrified, not knowing what to do and having nowhere to go, and asked if she could stay with Mel, offering to do all the housework and promising that she wouldn’t be a burden. She was desperate to finish school but unable to do so if she stayed in the house or went to live with relatives in Praia. She just wanted a place to stay until she could complete her education. We were kind of blown away by this surprise, seeing the fear and despair in her face and not really having any option. There’s no way she could stay permanently with us, it’s not our house and Peace Corps would throw a fit. We offered to let her stay for the night, but I told her the next day I would have to speak with my colleagues at work to see if they could work up any options at the ICM, what their opinion was of the situation. She declined to stay the night, saying she had no clothes with her and would try and stay in her aunt’s room (same house as the parents) for the night. We told her to come back the next evening, or that night if something happened, and we would see what could be done. So yesterday she came back, after I had talked with Ivete and Andreia to see what they thought. They told me to bring her by the next day (today) to speak with them, which I told her and she agreed. So today hopefully she will be coming to the Center to speak with Ivete and we can see what can be done. But God we felt like we were kicking a stray dog on the street. What do you do in this situation? How do you turn someone genuinely fearful away? It makes you realize the need for teen shelters or shelters for abused women, even though most don’t seek out help for fear and lack of options outside of their husband’s support. But what do you do with those who are desperate enough to seek out help? There’s no alternative. If I had the time and money that would be my next project, starting some kind of teen shelter where they could stay overnight if needed. More things that shouldn’t have to exist, but are needed nonetheless.