Alright, here's another round of journals (only two this time). Life is crazy, but good, lots of emotions as I try to figure out what I want my job to be--since it's entirely up to me. Every day they (meaning my bosses) ask "What do you want to do, what do you think your job will be?", to which I reply "Uuhh, well...helping kids?" or something along those lines. So send over positive thoughts that will inspire creativity and organization in me! Okay, love you all:)
9/23/06
“In the world, the carrying capacity for humans is limited. History holds all things in the balance, including large hopes and short lives. When Albert Schweitzer walked into the jungle, bless his heart, he carried antibacterials and a potent, altogether new conviction that no one should die young. He meant to save every child, thinking Africa would then learn how to have fewer children. But when families have spent a million years making nine in the hope of saving one, they cannot stop making nine. Culture is a slingshot moved by the force of its past.” –Adah Price, The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver.
Are our hopes blown to the wind, replaced by harsh reality and compromised weakness?
There’s a recurrent internal battle that wages in my mind from time to time, and though I’ve no choice but to bat it away, it persists, tossing me back and forth between guilt and satisfaction. I just finished re-reading the second half of The Poisonwood Bible (for about the 3rd or 4th time) and it always leaves me so impassioned, so full, so questioning. And it incites the battle again. With all of the injustice, all of the hurt and pain and need in the world, where truly is my role best played? I fight with myself, how I shouldn’t be in the “Beach” Corps (as they call Cape Verde), how I shouldn’t have running water and a toilet, how I shouldn’t have a large, sprawling bedroom and a comfortable bed, how I should be surviving off of what little the rest of the suffering impoverished developing world learns to survive with. How I shouldn’t be receiving everything I could ever need or want in nice little packages from the States (not to say I don’t appreciate them). There is a tape in my mind that plays on repeat and tells me I should be living in a mud hut, learning how to live off the land and make due without toilet paper, wondering where you’re going to find your food for next week. And not just for the purpose of suffering or false glory, but to be stretched and molded, to live in solidarity with others, to appreciate things more, to live more in line with how people used to live, before laziness, time efficiency, and technology took over and suddenly became important. And it sounds ridiculous I’m sure, and self-sacrificial, approaching some twisted delusion of grandeur or Mother Teresa complex, but still it hurts my heart sometimes. So sometimes the side battling for guilt wins and reminds me of how much comfort I live in. I have more than I ever needed. And aren’t we all operating out of guilt anyway, reassuring ourselves that the things we throw blindly out there in excess are actually needed or desired, all to make ourselves feel as though we have contributed and to quiet the nagging leech residing in the darkest corners of our minds, telling us we’ve done wrong? We’ve abused every chance we’ve been given, at every turn. Sometimes we have to let guilt win a battle or two.
And I know that maybe the side for satisfaction may ultimately win out, at least for now, reminding myself that I am doing what I can, piece by piece, maybe even eventually making a tiny dent in the abyss of what’s lacking, maybe even remembering that we’ll never get there and it will never be solved. But tonight I cower in my corner of self-loathing, feeling selfish, spoiled, and the privilege to escape from suffering for a day. What is it in me that craves punishment, that longs to get what I must somehow deserve? That part of me that wants to take all the weight off the backs of the oppressed, whom I have oppressed, and to somehow show them that this means time has reversed itself, collapsed within itself. The same time that I want history to dissolve itself, I bring it forth, make it stand out and scream its name through the valleys, or whisper it through the trees. I can’t escape myself, no matter how fast I run, and the weight of it all crushes tiny me beneath an overwhelming unknown. It keeps reminding me I know so little, lack so much, and not the strength to find the answers, if they exist. And someone will tell me, “Seek your happiness, allow yourself to find the joy that exists in possibility, it’s not you, you can’t carry it,” but I’ll still feel I have a debt to pay, penance dispersed to a thousand nameless faces. And part of me sometimes secretly wonders how much possibility there is, if we’re just fabricating a sense of rightness, restoring an order that presumes the existence of disorder that was perhaps never there. I introduced the disorder, or it was my fathers, but it was I just the same. And my being here won’t undo it, running throughout Africa pretending I know what to do or how to do it certainly won’t. I want to see their triumph, to take part in it, ultimately knowing that any true triumph can’t involve me, and may necessarily require my downfall. Unite, conquer, regain yourselves, stand proud. Wait for the next group to come in and say it’s not allowed, no pride that doesn’t wear our symbol, that isn’t blanketed by our best attempt at truth. Unfounded truth. And that group will bear my name, wear my skin, rip from me my identity and charge forth with it, their banner.
Maybe it’s always a battle, maybe I belong on the front lines, pretending I deserve to be there, pretending I won’t always be seen as different. And I settle on that, because the alternative is too scary, the tiny steps backward we take into comfort and safe dominion, glorious ignorance. Temporarily, at least. What happens when we no longer have dominion, no longer comfort? It is then that we step forward into the light, as best we can, not allowing our lives to be driven by guilt or a false sense of humility. We’re all just doing the best we can, until that excuse runs out.
9/25/06
Today was a slightly crazy day for me at the ICM Center (I’ll just refer to it as the Center from now on), a lot to think about. Andreia and I sat down after the girls headed off to their first day of school, and talked about what we want me to do, where I can jump in. She’s leaving it open and telling me to do whatever I want, no real direction except to say that she thinks I could start leading groups of girls when they’re not in school, doing various workshops or activities, basically whatever I feel like. That’s great of her to give me the freedom, but I still feel like I know so little about the Center and what kinds of activities they’ve done in the past, what routine they’re used to, all the girls’ names and backgrounds, not to mention fluent Criolu. So I told her maybe next week or later. Even then, what do I start with? Here’s a session on AIDs awareness, girls, be careful out there! I know it will get to those things eventually, but I really would rather gain the girls’ trust first, get to know them, establish why I’m here, etc. So I asked her if before we do any of this, I could finally see the files she was promising me about every girl—including where they were born, why they came, family situation, etc. So I spent my four hours in the morning and three in the afternoon reading in Portuguese about abusive and alcoholic mothers, abandoned children, sexually abused girls, girls who kill animals and act out aggressively, children born in prison, and children unwanted by their families—all children who have beautiful little faces and names that I’ve come to know over the last two weeks. I suppose it becomes easy to let your optimistic first impression cloud your knowledge of their sad histories, and you can find yourself pretending it’s just extensive daycare or an orphanage. And maybe some of the more troubled girls hide from the new strange white lady what they really want to express (though most of them truly are sweet wonderful girls, I’m convinced). Case in point: one of the older girls that was dancing for me last week, and whom I took pictures of, badly beat another girl this weekend, leaving large welts and bruises, and for reasons I still haven’t been able to determine (damn language barrier). So they brought the two girls in and I sat while the aggressive girl was yelled at for her behavior and sent to her room for two days straight. Afterwards, the social worker, obviously frazzled and unsure what to do or say, sat down with me and asked with pleading eyes what my opinion was, what I would do, what my “expert advice as a psychologist” was, what I could do to help the girl. Speechless, I wondered how I hadn’t been clear in the beginning that a degree in psychology in the States doesn’t make you a qualified psychologist. I asked a few questions about the situation, then offered my opinion of the girl’s situation (probable antisocial tendencies, need for regulative therapy for aggression, whatever I could meagerly explain in Criolu), indicating that the girl should have regular consultations of some kind, with someone other than the grade-school educated monitoras who clean the bathrooms. She then followed by asking me if I could help the girl, if I could meet with her, do some of my psychology magic on her—practically act as her licensed psychiatrist. I was pretty overwhelmed at the prospect, with some serious concerns about my qualifications (or lack thereof), and I stumbled through some sort of answer about my language difficulties and how it would be irresponsible of me to take that type of duty on so soon, as I might misunderstand what the girl tells me or say something inappropriate from lack of Criolu. I also told her that my job wasn’t as ICM psychologist, that I was more concerned with gaining the girls’ trust first. She agreed, and I could see her remember for a moment that I had just arrived in Assomada two weeks ago, completely new to social services in this country. But I definitely got a glimpse of the role she envisions me taking at some point in my two years. And it worries me, because I don’t know how things work here in Cape Verde: can someone with an undergraduate-level psychology degree work as a counseling psychologist with high-risk youth? I don’t feel comfortable with it, no matter what or how strong my interest is. I’m simply not qualified or experienced in dealing with aggressive or antisocial youth, or severely traumatized youth—you only go so far reading textbooks. Perhaps with some guidance I would be comfortable providing assistance (once I figure out what is appropriate within Cape Verdean regulation and practice), but not acting as full-fledged psychologist. I really want to help in whatever way I can, but I don’t want to proclaim abilities I don’t necessarily have. So what do I do? I suppose I’ll just have to talk with her, explain to her how things work with psychology in the States, and tell her I’d be willing to work alongside the ICM psychologist. It’s so hard, because I look in her eyes and see desperation, like she never knew what she was getting herself into, didn’t know how much responsibility she’d be taking on, and has no clue what the right response is for some of these girls. She’s so young and new to Cape Verde, I wonder how she’s gotten by this past year. Sink or swim, I suppose, but sometimes I wonder if she’s about to do the former. I think she’ll be alright. Hopefully I will be.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Hum dum de dum
I hate that feeling when you knew a few days ago you should have journaled when you felt like it and had something to say, but decided to go to bed instead, and now you sit in front of the computer not really feeling like writing and trying to remember what you had wanted to say earlier but don’t feel it anymore. Oh well. I had wanted to write earlier when I was feeling really happy because the day after I was sad about missing São Domingos, two buses full of S. Domingos youth drove into Assomada for the volunteer week we’re having with the CEJ. I was so happy, it just filled me up to see some familiar faces! I know eventually I will feel comfortable and recognized in Assomada, but sometimes you just miss that feeling that people know you and you know them, just the point we were at in S. Domingos. So Ima and some of the other guys who help out at the CEJ and around town have been here all week, which has been a relief, a good help in making me feel more comfortable in my job. Which still doesn’t really feel like a job, especially this week, since I just come sporadically to help out with activities, not really with any level of responsibility, just to hang out with the kids and lend a hand once in awhile. Which is to be expected, but I can’t wait for the day when I actually feel integrated enough into the organizations that I don’t just stand around wondering what the hell’s going on and waiting for someone to direct me to what I need to do. I’m just in that weird place of “no real responsibility yet”, wanting to help and maybe to be in charge of something, but not knowing how to help yet. It’s a good humbling experience to just sit back and be the attentive observer at first.
I was excited because Andreia and Ivete were going to take me with them this week to make house visits to the families of some girls who were kicked out of the center and might be able to return (long story), which would be like diving in to social work my second week, but unfortunately Andreia is sick this week, so it will have to wait. Maybe next week once this volunteer fair thing is over. Today I get to help lead (though I don’t know how much actual leading will be done) a group of youth volunteers who are going to help out for the afternoon in the ICM—finally something I know a little bit about! It’ll be a good chance to see the girls again, I already miss themJ. On Monday I came to watch/help them make cloth dolls and sew clothing for the dolls, and one of the girls came and whispered in my ear, asking me to come back in the afternoon to watch them dance, very top secret—or she was just being shy. So I came back and they performed a few of their choreographed dances (much like the girls in S. Domingos do), then busted out in some batuk and funana, all of which I took pictures of. They loved looking at all the pictures, and when I talked to them about doing a project with cameras and having them take pictures, they really liked the idea. They also liked the idea of playing a futbol game with the S. Domingos girls, so maybe that will be underway soon. Speaking of the S. Domingos girls, Sara and Keila have been calling me frequently now that they got my phone number from my host family. I thought it was sweet at first, but I’m hoping it doesn’t become a thing where they feel they can call every day, four times a day. Yesterday they called four times within a few hours. I don’t have the heart to tell them not to. But hopefully it will die down and they’ll understand I’m not always available.
Anyway, I guess not a whole lot else to report. Hopefully soon enough I’ll start feeling more comfortable with my roommate. He’s nice, but I still often feel like an unwanted guest who’s overstayed their welcome. It’ll get better as we start to settle into a routine. Anyway, I should sign off so I can go get some cleaning done in the house. More to write soon! P.S. If you want my new address in Assomada and don’t have it yet, let me know and I’ll hook you up—can’t post it on public internet site, for obvious reasons. Love you all!
I was excited because Andreia and Ivete were going to take me with them this week to make house visits to the families of some girls who were kicked out of the center and might be able to return (long story), which would be like diving in to social work my second week, but unfortunately Andreia is sick this week, so it will have to wait. Maybe next week once this volunteer fair thing is over. Today I get to help lead (though I don’t know how much actual leading will be done) a group of youth volunteers who are going to help out for the afternoon in the ICM—finally something I know a little bit about! It’ll be a good chance to see the girls again, I already miss themJ. On Monday I came to watch/help them make cloth dolls and sew clothing for the dolls, and one of the girls came and whispered in my ear, asking me to come back in the afternoon to watch them dance, very top secret—or she was just being shy. So I came back and they performed a few of their choreographed dances (much like the girls in S. Domingos do), then busted out in some batuk and funana, all of which I took pictures of. They loved looking at all the pictures, and when I talked to them about doing a project with cameras and having them take pictures, they really liked the idea. They also liked the idea of playing a futbol game with the S. Domingos girls, so maybe that will be underway soon. Speaking of the S. Domingos girls, Sara and Keila have been calling me frequently now that they got my phone number from my host family. I thought it was sweet at first, but I’m hoping it doesn’t become a thing where they feel they can call every day, four times a day. Yesterday they called four times within a few hours. I don’t have the heart to tell them not to. But hopefully it will die down and they’ll understand I’m not always available.
Anyway, I guess not a whole lot else to report. Hopefully soon enough I’ll start feeling more comfortable with my roommate. He’s nice, but I still often feel like an unwanted guest who’s overstayed their welcome. It’ll get better as we start to settle into a routine. Anyway, I should sign off so I can go get some cleaning done in the house. More to write soon! P.S. If you want my new address in Assomada and don’t have it yet, let me know and I’ll hook you up—can’t post it on public internet site, for obvious reasons. Love you all!
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Blue moon...you saw me standin alone...
I stayed up late last night to finish reading The Secret Life of Bees and am now sitting wondering how I want to respond. It’s a beautiful book, wonderfully descriptive and strongly personal. And I’m left feeling the same thing I often feel when finishing a good book, as though I’m not quite sure who I am or where I’m at. That’s the problem with a good book, or really any book that takes you away from reality to create a new proposed reality, or someone else’s reality: you melt into it, feel yourself there, imagine your life within the character’s, hurt when she hurts and can’t pull yourself away from this other life. Then when you put the book down, your mind can’t see through the fog to remember where you are. And then it hits you that you have a very different reality, that your life isn’t what you’ve been feeling for the past few hours, back to the real world. It’s always hard for me to finish a good book, no matter how much I want to and will sit for hours until it’s done, because I know when it’s done I will have to say goodbye to the world I just came to briefly love. And my own reality here in Cape Verde is an equally beautiful reality, not one I am disappointed to return to, but there’s something about the internal solidarity that you can feel with a good novel that is hard to describe in words when you feel a distinct loss at its end. And maybe that’s the beauty of it: if you can’t get that involved in a book, what good is it? And maybe the sadness comes from the longing, the desire to be where the person is, to experience what they live, and for a short time to be able to imagine that you have it, that it’s all yours. And as much as it hurts a little to end this book, I realize that it is part of what makes me feel alive and what helps me to escape for a moment the things that weigh my heart down.
This week was one of those paradoxical weeks where at the same time that it’s wonderful and new, it’s frustrating and trying. A little more of the latter at times. My second day at the ICM I sat down with Andreia and we spoke about the center, how it works, what people’s responsibilities are, what her duties are, what kinds of the things they need, what things I can be involved in, and I left feeling overwhelmed. Sometimes you don’t think about how it would feel if you suddenly got everything you asked for all at once; when it rains, it pours. I asked for experience in social work, for responsibility, for a chance to get myself organized and be self-motivated, to dive in and work with children in other cultures with some of the hardest situations. And I got it. So I can’t complain, and really I’m not. It’s just that sometimes it hits you like a freight train that you are only one person, and while your role is supposed to be only to mobilize change and facilitate the actions of others rather than do everything yourself, sometimes you sit and realize there just isn’t anyone else who wants or is willing to do it. That’s the problem with working with “the least of these” and the areas of the most need, you don’t always have the luxury of sitting back and organizing, getting people to get up and act to make change—instead you have to do a lot of brunt work yourself, or focus on making structural change. In Cape Verde there are very few people who are trained in social sciences like psychology and social work, because most people can’t finish high school and wouldn’t dream of having the money to go to college, and if they do they generally study to become teachers or go to trade school to work in more “practical” professions. So you have an ICM center where one social worker fresh out of her social work degree is acting as coordinator, director (since they don’t have one), official social worker, activity coordinator, financial collaborator, and sometimes glorified babysitter. They just don’t have the money to pay anyone else to come in, and good luck finding volunteers (though I am determined to find willing hearts to help). Other than herself, Ivete, and the psychologist, no one who works at the Center has any training (formal or informal), and she really wants to see some workshops or training sessions come to the center, since no one really knows a lot about dealing with special needs children, or about group dynamics and how to discipline 30 girls at once, or even about basic health and safety needs. She listed off the formações she wants to bring in (with assumedly my involvement), the financial constraints, the need for collaboration with other organizations, the activities and programs she wants to see, and I had a vision flash before me of my next two years, without a second to breathe. It might help if at first I focus on being more time efficient—instead of telling me to come in at a certain time and then having me wait 30-45 minutes before we can do anything, and then in the afternoon instead of getting to know the girls and some of the activities they do going around town and watching her do her grocery shopping. I understand it, though, the need to escape from the office, to get outside, to try and multitask, but it just seems like I spend more of my time waiting and wandering than learning. And part of me really did expect this, there are very different mentalities regarding time in this culture, as there was in Latin America, as there is in the rest of Africa, as there is in many parts of the world. But another part of me was hoping that this is just because it’s the first week, and they may not be sure what to do with me yet or what I will ultimately be capable or, where I’ll fit, but that eventually we’ll nail down a good working schedule. That may have to be my doing though. The same thing occurred at the CEJ, exactly what they told us to expect: I came for a meeting for a Volunteer fair they’re having this next week at 9:00 am, no one was there yet, and when I asked one of the CEJ workers where the director was, she smiled and said “Here in Cape Verde, meetings that start at 9:00 never start before 10 or 11”. Which is fine, I can learn to expect that, but not when I’m being spread out between 3-4 different locations—I have to be able to plan out my time according to which organization needs me when. Hopefully this next week we’ll be able to sit down and work out a more concrete schedule. At any rate, I’m not feeling very articulate right now. I’m still sad that I couldn’t go to São Domingos today like I was planning, and since we have no working phone, I can’t call my host family to tell them I won’t be there, and to give them my address and potential phone number to give to Igor. And my real family in the States can’t call till they turn our phone on. So I guess it’s just a blue afternoon, but one that will get better as I have a little more down time. And time with the internet:), that always helps a little! Suffice it to say for now that my mind is elsewhere, though I haven’t quite nailed down where that is yet.
This week was one of those paradoxical weeks where at the same time that it’s wonderful and new, it’s frustrating and trying. A little more of the latter at times. My second day at the ICM I sat down with Andreia and we spoke about the center, how it works, what people’s responsibilities are, what her duties are, what kinds of the things they need, what things I can be involved in, and I left feeling overwhelmed. Sometimes you don’t think about how it would feel if you suddenly got everything you asked for all at once; when it rains, it pours. I asked for experience in social work, for responsibility, for a chance to get myself organized and be self-motivated, to dive in and work with children in other cultures with some of the hardest situations. And I got it. So I can’t complain, and really I’m not. It’s just that sometimes it hits you like a freight train that you are only one person, and while your role is supposed to be only to mobilize change and facilitate the actions of others rather than do everything yourself, sometimes you sit and realize there just isn’t anyone else who wants or is willing to do it. That’s the problem with working with “the least of these” and the areas of the most need, you don’t always have the luxury of sitting back and organizing, getting people to get up and act to make change—instead you have to do a lot of brunt work yourself, or focus on making structural change. In Cape Verde there are very few people who are trained in social sciences like psychology and social work, because most people can’t finish high school and wouldn’t dream of having the money to go to college, and if they do they generally study to become teachers or go to trade school to work in more “practical” professions. So you have an ICM center where one social worker fresh out of her social work degree is acting as coordinator, director (since they don’t have one), official social worker, activity coordinator, financial collaborator, and sometimes glorified babysitter. They just don’t have the money to pay anyone else to come in, and good luck finding volunteers (though I am determined to find willing hearts to help). Other than herself, Ivete, and the psychologist, no one who works at the Center has any training (formal or informal), and she really wants to see some workshops or training sessions come to the center, since no one really knows a lot about dealing with special needs children, or about group dynamics and how to discipline 30 girls at once, or even about basic health and safety needs. She listed off the formações she wants to bring in (with assumedly my involvement), the financial constraints, the need for collaboration with other organizations, the activities and programs she wants to see, and I had a vision flash before me of my next two years, without a second to breathe. It might help if at first I focus on being more time efficient—instead of telling me to come in at a certain time and then having me wait 30-45 minutes before we can do anything, and then in the afternoon instead of getting to know the girls and some of the activities they do going around town and watching her do her grocery shopping. I understand it, though, the need to escape from the office, to get outside, to try and multitask, but it just seems like I spend more of my time waiting and wandering than learning. And part of me really did expect this, there are very different mentalities regarding time in this culture, as there was in Latin America, as there is in the rest of Africa, as there is in many parts of the world. But another part of me was hoping that this is just because it’s the first week, and they may not be sure what to do with me yet or what I will ultimately be capable or, where I’ll fit, but that eventually we’ll nail down a good working schedule. That may have to be my doing though. The same thing occurred at the CEJ, exactly what they told us to expect: I came for a meeting for a Volunteer fair they’re having this next week at 9:00 am, no one was there yet, and when I asked one of the CEJ workers where the director was, she smiled and said “Here in Cape Verde, meetings that start at 9:00 never start before 10 or 11”. Which is fine, I can learn to expect that, but not when I’m being spread out between 3-4 different locations—I have to be able to plan out my time according to which organization needs me when. Hopefully this next week we’ll be able to sit down and work out a more concrete schedule. At any rate, I’m not feeling very articulate right now. I’m still sad that I couldn’t go to São Domingos today like I was planning, and since we have no working phone, I can’t call my host family to tell them I won’t be there, and to give them my address and potential phone number to give to Igor. And my real family in the States can’t call till they turn our phone on. So I guess it’s just a blue afternoon, but one that will get better as I have a little more down time. And time with the internet:), that always helps a little! Suffice it to say for now that my mind is elsewhere, though I haven’t quite nailed down where that is yet.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Free at last, free at last...!
Okay, so here I am finally in Assomada, using the blessed internet for the first time in weeks:) I´m just attaching the journals like normal, so enjoy! I hope this finds you all well and in good spirits.
9/2/03
I don’t really have any journals to update, just whatever comes to mind right now as I sit at the computer. It’s been a long week (I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a week to be over more), and we’re all getting impatient and antsy to go to site, to reclaim our independence, to start work, to meet our new communities. Last week we opened up our bank accounts and finished up our language classes, starting to make the final arrangements before we go. It’s a bit crazy that there’s only a week of training left before I’m dropped off and expected to do stuff. The TEFL people finished up their second model school in Praia yesterday and we all had a festa with dancing (we taught them the electric slide), singing, and a humorous attempt at leading a round of three-legged-racing. Each of the TEFL Trainees taught their class a song, skit, or poem to recite/perform in English for everyone, and then at the end the Trainees performed a Portuguese song to one of the Brazilian novellas that everyone here loves. The kids went crazy!
This next week we have conferences with our counterparts (the people we’re matched with at our institutions—they help you integrate, teach you the ropes at the job, etc.), language competency exams, and some logistics sessions to let us know how we’ll get to our sites and what to do once we’re there. We also have shopping time in Praia to get some stuff for our houses/apartments that we don’t already have. Just basically a wrap-up week. So hopefully it will go by fast and we’ll all be off on our own! I’m excited to see what my place looks like, start settling in, make it my home. Then I’ll have to start staking out internet places (pathetic, I know), so I can just go and do some “housecleaning” and get some of the stuff I never have time to do done.
I’m feeling a confusing mix of anxiety, excitement, fear, and joy all at once. Sometimes you wonder how you’ll respond when you no longer have people guiding you through what to do, no one holding your hand, and you’re out on your own—that’s the anxiety and fear part. But at the same time I am so glad to be here; this is what I want to be doing, this is my passion, this is what I signed up for and it’s about to start. And in life you can’t always predict what will happen or how you will handle it, you just have to throw yourself in and trust that all that you’ve learned along the way has shaped who you are enough to be able to handle it. And it’s nice to remember that you’re not done learning, that you’re always allowed to make mistakes and let them build you up. Cheesy, yes, but it’s really the attitude you choose that determines how well you glide through the frustrating times. So I choose a hopeful one. I can’t help that I’m eternal optimist:).
9/3/06
Today we were supposed to host our all-girls futbol game, but alas, the wholly powerful txuba (rain, if you were paying attention before, *wink*) was sent with force by the god of weather patterns and our soccer court quickly became a swimming pool. Literally. People busted out their swimsuits. So we have postponed the game until Wednesday evening (pending further txuba), which will hopefully go off without a hitch. In any case, the river rapids that ran through the roads of São Domingos proved to be a good time. And as I mentioned before, rain puts everyone here in a good mood (when I told my mom I was sad that the rain meant no game, she laughed harder than I’ve ever seen her laugh—not in a mean way, be assured). Such a good mood, in fact, that all the young men of S. Domingos were drawn from their homes to come splash around in a big pseudo-soccer/throw-each-other-around-in-the-water extravaganza. My next statement may appear vain and superficial, for which I don’t apologize one bit (I’m only human). Watching a multitude of soaking wet, chiseled, and shirtless Cape Verdean men frolic with glee in the rain is quite the treat for the eyes. There, I said it. I believe quite a few women would agree.
And so needless to say this was not too bad of an end to a slightly poopy weekend. Postponing the game was no big deal (provided it doesn’t rain again on Wednesday), the girls didn’t mind, and it gave me a chance to have a much more relaxing Sunday, cleaning/organizing my room, reading, and just getting some much-needed rest and alone time. So hopefully I will be going into this last week with a more positive attitude and a little more energy—which would require going to bed an hour ago, so goodnight:)
9/4/06
We met our counterparts for the first time today, which was both exciting and exhausting. I was nervous at first, because you never know if you’ll get along with the person or if they’ll end up being the uninterested, uninvolved type we heard so much about from current PCVs. My main counterpart (I have 2) is the ICM coordinator for Santa Catarina (the region Assomada is in), a 30-year-old woman named Ivete who seems to be very helpful and hopefully pleasant to work with. She studied law in a university in Brazil, so she’s very direct and no-nonsense, yet very friendly and good-natured. I think she’ll be really useful in helping me to integrate in the community and in showing me the things/places/people I need to know. Plus she seemed really interested in my past experience and in my plans for my thesis project, so hopefully she can be instrumental in getting that monstrous thing (okay not really monstrous) accomplished. We had to make an activity list of all the things we need/want to accomplish within the first 3 months, and it was exhausting just thinking of all the information that will be thrown at me. The whole day was just exhausting—almost more complex Criolu than my brain could handle. I was designated (again) as the unofficial translator for the youth development group, bouncing questions back and forth between counterparts, PCTs, and Peace Corps staff. I don’t mind at all, it’s great practice for me, but it requires a lot of attention and energy, and makes finishing my own tasks take a lot longer when I have to helop make sure everyone understands what the other person is saying and what they’re supposed to be doing. I like the challenge, stretching myself to be able to articulate project expectations and other people’s thoughts and concerns. And it’s increasing my confidence, that I might get around okay once I get to site. And my counterpart was pretty psyched that we could have a decent conversation in Criolu—less frustration and misunderstanding. There will be plenty of miscommunication to come and I’ll need a lot of patience from her, but I feel like I’m in a good starting point. It makes me happy because it’s really important to me to be able to communicate meaningfully with the community directly rather than through a translator—that’s how the most affective change is made and trust is earned (as any international development worker will tell you). Tomorrow I have my language proficiency interview (LPI), so we’ll see officially how well (or poorly) I’m doing and what areas need work. It helps that I’ll be working around plenty of kids, because they’re generally the best resource for learning a language, always patient and helpful. I really just can’t wait to get there!
9/6/06
Ugh, I don’t even know what to say about tonight. It was frustrating and wonderful at the same time, both a success and failure. We had our girls’ futbol game—just barely—and I don’t really know how it got pulled off. We went to the Polivalenti (the recreation court/center) after class and saw that it was being used for a guys’ futbol tournament that was supposed to go on for several more hours, which they were supposed to have had last night and instead bumped up without checking to see if the Polivalenti was reserved (formal reservations seem to be a strange concept in Cape Verde). We anxiously told them that our game was supposed to start at 7:00 and that all the girls would be showing up to play. They told us they’d give us an hour as soon as the current game was over. As 7:00 approached we got pretty nervous because there were about 5 girls there (remember we signed up almost 60?), not even enough for one team. Seconds before we went down to forfeit, an army of girls, complete with matching jerseys (where’d they get uniforms??) charged excitedly into the Polivalenti ready to play. Sara, my shining star and the girl who basically helped us organize the whole thing and did a lot of the brunt work, ran in with the biggest “I’m ready to take on the world” smile and gave me a big hug. We all breathed a huge sigh of relief and ushered the girls from Boavista/Pousada (the two zones that were playing together against a different zone) onto the court to start organizing and explaining rules. Soon after, the Juan Garido crew (from the other zone) charged in, complete with different matching jerseys (what in the world?). So all of the sudden it looked like we had a game on our hands. When we had originally planned the whole idea and signed up the girls, we knew we’d probably have to group up the girls by age and rotate groups out by age so that we didn’t have the 9-12 year old girls playing the 15-21 year old girls. The problem was when Juan Garido showed up, there were only older girls, no younger girls to rotate in against our younger girls in Boavista/Pousada. While we waited for someone to fix the lights so we could play (it was near pitch black), which took another 20 minutes out of our playing time, we told the girls to group up roughly by age in groups of 6 so we could switch them out. Somewhere in the process of running between teams, a team coach showed up for Boavista/Pousada and started giving orders (where did he come from??), beginning by telling the younger girls they couldn’t play and to give their jerseys to the older girls. So Sara and Lany came up to me crying and handed me their team markers, saying the coach wouldn’t let them play. Sara wouldn’t even talk, not a word. I tried to figure out the situation, but as time was running out, the ref started the game and it looked like a good chunk of girls wouldn’t get to play, nothing we could do about it. So the older girls played a short but exciting game, and I’ve never seen the spectators go so crazy for a local futbol match. So in that aspect, it was a great success—guys like to watch the girls take a shot at it. My zone lost, but I found out that Carla really shows up for futbol, she’s really good!
I had a hard time enjoying the success of our event, because the girls were so upset. I tried to explain the situation and that I had no control over what happened, but Sara wouldn’t even talk to me. I was so crushed—these girls were my favorite people in São Domingos, the ones I got closest to, and I was sure they were all mad at me. I got their hopes up, planned an event for them, and they couldn’t even participate. Not only was the event centered around them, but they did most of the work walking around and signing girls up, calling them to tell them the day had changed to Wednesday, etc. With only a few days left before I leave São Domingos, the last thing I wanted was to leave on a sour note. Eventually as the girls saw how upset I was about it, they came and sat by me and then eventually started talking to me, explaining that they were more mad at the coach who had told them they couldn’t play than at me—they were just a bunch of disappointed little girls. I still felt pretty awful, that they had been let down, but at least they didn’t hate or blame me. Igor (my special neighbor friend) told me I should try and plan a game between the younger S. Domingos girls and the girls at the ICM center I’ll be working at in Assomada. He said it would be fun to plan a whole big evening with music and dancing so the girls could feel special taking a field trip out to an event planned just for them. I told him it was an awesome idea and am already anxious to find out when I’ll be able to do it.
Speaking of Igor, we spent the rest of the night talking about anything and everything, which both made me feel much better and made me a little sad, because he’s an amazing person to talk to, but he’s leaving soon for the army in São Vicente (military service is mandatory in Cape Verde, regardless of how opposed you may be to it), and found out there’s a chance he might get sent to another island for his formação for more than a year after he finishes training camp in São Vicente. It’s sad because we were both so excited that I would be located close enough for him to visit. There’s still a chance he’ll be placed in Praia after what’s essentially boot camp for 45 days, which would certainly be great. But whatever happens, happens—I need to be more focused on integrating into my community and doing my job once I get to Assomada. The first 3 months are always the toughest adjustment period and are critical to the rest of your 2 years of service. Sooo…no thoughts of boys for awhile. It’s good for me:).
9/9/06
Well, today we are officially Peace Corps Volunteers! We had our swearing-in ceremony complete with the Prime Minister of Cape Verde, the President of the local camara, the US ambassador, and all our families, as a result of which one letter in our acronym has changed. Sweet. Really, though, it is exciting, it means none of us will be sent home as a result of being inadequate or unprepared for service—we all made it through nine weeks! I can already taste the freedom…except that we’re still not allowed to leave site for the first 3 months (which means I can’t take the 40-minute hiace ride to S. Domingos to see my family, which *ahem* means no seeing Igor before he leaves for the army :( ). Oh well, more time to settle in to the new house. Tonight we are all hanging out at Jessica (second-year PCV) and Jean-Claude’s palace (literally their place is huge and they have a balcony almost the size of my apartment in the States) to have one last hurrah before everyone flies off to different islands. Tomorrow I and the other PCVs staying on Santiago will go pick up our stuff in S. Domingos and head off to our sites to finally start the “independent” life under the caring yet firm arm of US Peace Corps. More to report once I get to Assomada!
9/13/06
Here I sit, in my new house in Assomada, thinking about how to describe the situation as I find it. I haven’t written the last three days because we have spent all of those days in their entirety cleaning one of the messiest houses I’ve seen in a long time. I won’t complain long because really it’s a great house, incredibly large (nowhere in my imagination did I picture living in these conditions while doing the Peace Corps, I almost feel guilty writing about it) with three rooms, a kitchen, 1 ½ bathrooms, and a large entry room. No one-room shack with a latrine in back and a mud-thatched roof. That said, I felt in part as though I was entering an old abandoned haunted house where you heard rumors that someone had once lived, but perhaps someone died or fled suddenly from the house and left everything as it was. It was a bit crazy: dead bugs everywhere, a good thick layer of dirt, grime and cobwebs over everything, dirty dishes in the sink, molded food in the refrigerator (complete with a frozen fish peeking out of the freezer), furniture carelessly strewn about, a bathroom door that doesn’t close, a leaky sink, and one bathroom I still won’t even open the door to because of the scary smell and 2 inches of dirt over everything. The house smelled as though any moment I would uncover whatever animal had been so unfortunate as to die in some hidden cabinet or drawer. So needless to say, Nick and I had a lot of work ahead of us, with the help of another Volunteer placed in Assomada working with the environment. We had to throw away all the junk that had been left behind by the last PCV, rearrange furniture, take off all sheets and fabrics to be immediately washed, and then tackle each room one by one. I spent an entire afternoon/evening scouring the bathroom, which was very unsightly, unusable, and reeked of things I won’t speak of. The only way I could make the bathtub (yeah, we actually have a bathtub!) usable was to take steel wool and a whole lot of elbow grease to it, taking off a thick layer of who-knows-what. But now it’s pretty much ready for use. And now after three straight days of cleaning, we’ve just about got the whole house done, I can’t believe how fast we did it! We still haven’t approached that other disgusting bathroom, but it can wait. The most important part is that our rooms are set up so we can start unpacking and feeling as though it really is home. Hopefully we’ll get the leaky sink and windows fixed soon enough.
* * *
Today I started my first day at “work”, though really I just met with my counterpart and we toured the Center, walked around town to see some of the important locations, then met my other counterpart at the CEJ (youth center), walked through the camara and met some people, made my face familiar around town, etc. I won’t be actually starting much work for a week or two (and even then it will be minimal at first) so that I can just focus on integrating, getting to know the people I’ll be working with, learning my way around town, getting settled in at the house, etc. I got to meet several of the girls that live at the Center today, and I think I’m going to have a great time, they’re really sweet! They were fascinated by me and after a few minutes of skeptical observation, they sat down and started talking to me. There’s a girl who’s deaf and mute named Eunice who’s very sweet and with whom I’ll hopefully be able to find a decent way to communicate. There are a few girls who seem very troubled, who have behavioral problems and don’t talk much. A few girls have developmental and mental disabilities, one of whom I met this morning and whom is very sweet. She’s a wanderer, though, and they have to lock the doors so that she doesn’t go out onto the streets and try to run away or wander off. In Santa Catarina they only have one psychologist for all ICM functions (including both centers in Assomada and Picos), and she has to spread out her time between all 60-ish children in the centers, many of whom need severe intervention. According to Ivete (my counterpart), psychologists in the ICM don’t usually last more than a couple of months, no one wants to work in a place that has that much need and pays little. The psychologist they have now has been there one year, so she’s hoping that the woman will stay on for awhile. Unfortunately, it’s a similar situation as in the States: people with degrees in psychology only want to work for more money, in things like private practice, rather than the poorly-paid ICM workers. That’s why, just like in the US, there’s a shortage of dedicated social workers and other social service employees, because they get paid so poorly. I wish I knew how to change that, how to rearrange priorities. There certainly won’t be a shortage of things for me to do while I’m here. Additionally, I’ve already received several requests to teach English, so it looks like I’ll be plenty busy these next two years. The social worker that works at the Center, Andreia, is from Portugal and seems extremely nice and will be wonderful to work with. I’m excited that I’ll hopefully be working a lot alongside her, learning the ropes of social services for youth in Cape Verde. Although she’s knew to CV as well, only a year and half in country. We’ll learn together. At any rate, I’m here, I’m settled, and hopefully in for two great years of working hard and making progress for Assomada. Overall, I’m very happy to be here, very excited to learn the way of life in Assomada, and hoping that eventually I’ll get the hang of cooking. In the meantime, it’s peanut butter on crackers and cheese on bread:).
9/2/03
I don’t really have any journals to update, just whatever comes to mind right now as I sit at the computer. It’s been a long week (I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a week to be over more), and we’re all getting impatient and antsy to go to site, to reclaim our independence, to start work, to meet our new communities. Last week we opened up our bank accounts and finished up our language classes, starting to make the final arrangements before we go. It’s a bit crazy that there’s only a week of training left before I’m dropped off and expected to do stuff. The TEFL people finished up their second model school in Praia yesterday and we all had a festa with dancing (we taught them the electric slide), singing, and a humorous attempt at leading a round of three-legged-racing. Each of the TEFL Trainees taught their class a song, skit, or poem to recite/perform in English for everyone, and then at the end the Trainees performed a Portuguese song to one of the Brazilian novellas that everyone here loves. The kids went crazy!
This next week we have conferences with our counterparts (the people we’re matched with at our institutions—they help you integrate, teach you the ropes at the job, etc.), language competency exams, and some logistics sessions to let us know how we’ll get to our sites and what to do once we’re there. We also have shopping time in Praia to get some stuff for our houses/apartments that we don’t already have. Just basically a wrap-up week. So hopefully it will go by fast and we’ll all be off on our own! I’m excited to see what my place looks like, start settling in, make it my home. Then I’ll have to start staking out internet places (pathetic, I know), so I can just go and do some “housecleaning” and get some of the stuff I never have time to do done.
I’m feeling a confusing mix of anxiety, excitement, fear, and joy all at once. Sometimes you wonder how you’ll respond when you no longer have people guiding you through what to do, no one holding your hand, and you’re out on your own—that’s the anxiety and fear part. But at the same time I am so glad to be here; this is what I want to be doing, this is my passion, this is what I signed up for and it’s about to start. And in life you can’t always predict what will happen or how you will handle it, you just have to throw yourself in and trust that all that you’ve learned along the way has shaped who you are enough to be able to handle it. And it’s nice to remember that you’re not done learning, that you’re always allowed to make mistakes and let them build you up. Cheesy, yes, but it’s really the attitude you choose that determines how well you glide through the frustrating times. So I choose a hopeful one. I can’t help that I’m eternal optimist:).
9/3/06
Today we were supposed to host our all-girls futbol game, but alas, the wholly powerful txuba (rain, if you were paying attention before, *wink*) was sent with force by the god of weather patterns and our soccer court quickly became a swimming pool. Literally. People busted out their swimsuits. So we have postponed the game until Wednesday evening (pending further txuba), which will hopefully go off without a hitch. In any case, the river rapids that ran through the roads of São Domingos proved to be a good time. And as I mentioned before, rain puts everyone here in a good mood (when I told my mom I was sad that the rain meant no game, she laughed harder than I’ve ever seen her laugh—not in a mean way, be assured). Such a good mood, in fact, that all the young men of S. Domingos were drawn from their homes to come splash around in a big pseudo-soccer/throw-each-other-around-in-the-water extravaganza. My next statement may appear vain and superficial, for which I don’t apologize one bit (I’m only human). Watching a multitude of soaking wet, chiseled, and shirtless Cape Verdean men frolic with glee in the rain is quite the treat for the eyes. There, I said it. I believe quite a few women would agree.
And so needless to say this was not too bad of an end to a slightly poopy weekend. Postponing the game was no big deal (provided it doesn’t rain again on Wednesday), the girls didn’t mind, and it gave me a chance to have a much more relaxing Sunday, cleaning/organizing my room, reading, and just getting some much-needed rest and alone time. So hopefully I will be going into this last week with a more positive attitude and a little more energy—which would require going to bed an hour ago, so goodnight:)
9/4/06
We met our counterparts for the first time today, which was both exciting and exhausting. I was nervous at first, because you never know if you’ll get along with the person or if they’ll end up being the uninterested, uninvolved type we heard so much about from current PCVs. My main counterpart (I have 2) is the ICM coordinator for Santa Catarina (the region Assomada is in), a 30-year-old woman named Ivete who seems to be very helpful and hopefully pleasant to work with. She studied law in a university in Brazil, so she’s very direct and no-nonsense, yet very friendly and good-natured. I think she’ll be really useful in helping me to integrate in the community and in showing me the things/places/people I need to know. Plus she seemed really interested in my past experience and in my plans for my thesis project, so hopefully she can be instrumental in getting that monstrous thing (okay not really monstrous) accomplished. We had to make an activity list of all the things we need/want to accomplish within the first 3 months, and it was exhausting just thinking of all the information that will be thrown at me. The whole day was just exhausting—almost more complex Criolu than my brain could handle. I was designated (again) as the unofficial translator for the youth development group, bouncing questions back and forth between counterparts, PCTs, and Peace Corps staff. I don’t mind at all, it’s great practice for me, but it requires a lot of attention and energy, and makes finishing my own tasks take a lot longer when I have to helop make sure everyone understands what the other person is saying and what they’re supposed to be doing. I like the challenge, stretching myself to be able to articulate project expectations and other people’s thoughts and concerns. And it’s increasing my confidence, that I might get around okay once I get to site. And my counterpart was pretty psyched that we could have a decent conversation in Criolu—less frustration and misunderstanding. There will be plenty of miscommunication to come and I’ll need a lot of patience from her, but I feel like I’m in a good starting point. It makes me happy because it’s really important to me to be able to communicate meaningfully with the community directly rather than through a translator—that’s how the most affective change is made and trust is earned (as any international development worker will tell you). Tomorrow I have my language proficiency interview (LPI), so we’ll see officially how well (or poorly) I’m doing and what areas need work. It helps that I’ll be working around plenty of kids, because they’re generally the best resource for learning a language, always patient and helpful. I really just can’t wait to get there!
9/6/06
Ugh, I don’t even know what to say about tonight. It was frustrating and wonderful at the same time, both a success and failure. We had our girls’ futbol game—just barely—and I don’t really know how it got pulled off. We went to the Polivalenti (the recreation court/center) after class and saw that it was being used for a guys’ futbol tournament that was supposed to go on for several more hours, which they were supposed to have had last night and instead bumped up without checking to see if the Polivalenti was reserved (formal reservations seem to be a strange concept in Cape Verde). We anxiously told them that our game was supposed to start at 7:00 and that all the girls would be showing up to play. They told us they’d give us an hour as soon as the current game was over. As 7:00 approached we got pretty nervous because there were about 5 girls there (remember we signed up almost 60?), not even enough for one team. Seconds before we went down to forfeit, an army of girls, complete with matching jerseys (where’d they get uniforms??) charged excitedly into the Polivalenti ready to play. Sara, my shining star and the girl who basically helped us organize the whole thing and did a lot of the brunt work, ran in with the biggest “I’m ready to take on the world” smile and gave me a big hug. We all breathed a huge sigh of relief and ushered the girls from Boavista/Pousada (the two zones that were playing together against a different zone) onto the court to start organizing and explaining rules. Soon after, the Juan Garido crew (from the other zone) charged in, complete with different matching jerseys (what in the world?). So all of the sudden it looked like we had a game on our hands. When we had originally planned the whole idea and signed up the girls, we knew we’d probably have to group up the girls by age and rotate groups out by age so that we didn’t have the 9-12 year old girls playing the 15-21 year old girls. The problem was when Juan Garido showed up, there were only older girls, no younger girls to rotate in against our younger girls in Boavista/Pousada. While we waited for someone to fix the lights so we could play (it was near pitch black), which took another 20 minutes out of our playing time, we told the girls to group up roughly by age in groups of 6 so we could switch them out. Somewhere in the process of running between teams, a team coach showed up for Boavista/Pousada and started giving orders (where did he come from??), beginning by telling the younger girls they couldn’t play and to give their jerseys to the older girls. So Sara and Lany came up to me crying and handed me their team markers, saying the coach wouldn’t let them play. Sara wouldn’t even talk, not a word. I tried to figure out the situation, but as time was running out, the ref started the game and it looked like a good chunk of girls wouldn’t get to play, nothing we could do about it. So the older girls played a short but exciting game, and I’ve never seen the spectators go so crazy for a local futbol match. So in that aspect, it was a great success—guys like to watch the girls take a shot at it. My zone lost, but I found out that Carla really shows up for futbol, she’s really good!
I had a hard time enjoying the success of our event, because the girls were so upset. I tried to explain the situation and that I had no control over what happened, but Sara wouldn’t even talk to me. I was so crushed—these girls were my favorite people in São Domingos, the ones I got closest to, and I was sure they were all mad at me. I got their hopes up, planned an event for them, and they couldn’t even participate. Not only was the event centered around them, but they did most of the work walking around and signing girls up, calling them to tell them the day had changed to Wednesday, etc. With only a few days left before I leave São Domingos, the last thing I wanted was to leave on a sour note. Eventually as the girls saw how upset I was about it, they came and sat by me and then eventually started talking to me, explaining that they were more mad at the coach who had told them they couldn’t play than at me—they were just a bunch of disappointed little girls. I still felt pretty awful, that they had been let down, but at least they didn’t hate or blame me. Igor (my special neighbor friend) told me I should try and plan a game between the younger S. Domingos girls and the girls at the ICM center I’ll be working at in Assomada. He said it would be fun to plan a whole big evening with music and dancing so the girls could feel special taking a field trip out to an event planned just for them. I told him it was an awesome idea and am already anxious to find out when I’ll be able to do it.
Speaking of Igor, we spent the rest of the night talking about anything and everything, which both made me feel much better and made me a little sad, because he’s an amazing person to talk to, but he’s leaving soon for the army in São Vicente (military service is mandatory in Cape Verde, regardless of how opposed you may be to it), and found out there’s a chance he might get sent to another island for his formação for more than a year after he finishes training camp in São Vicente. It’s sad because we were both so excited that I would be located close enough for him to visit. There’s still a chance he’ll be placed in Praia after what’s essentially boot camp for 45 days, which would certainly be great. But whatever happens, happens—I need to be more focused on integrating into my community and doing my job once I get to Assomada. The first 3 months are always the toughest adjustment period and are critical to the rest of your 2 years of service. Sooo…no thoughts of boys for awhile. It’s good for me:).
9/9/06
Well, today we are officially Peace Corps Volunteers! We had our swearing-in ceremony complete with the Prime Minister of Cape Verde, the President of the local camara, the US ambassador, and all our families, as a result of which one letter in our acronym has changed. Sweet. Really, though, it is exciting, it means none of us will be sent home as a result of being inadequate or unprepared for service—we all made it through nine weeks! I can already taste the freedom…except that we’re still not allowed to leave site for the first 3 months (which means I can’t take the 40-minute hiace ride to S. Domingos to see my family, which *ahem* means no seeing Igor before he leaves for the army :( ). Oh well, more time to settle in to the new house. Tonight we are all hanging out at Jessica (second-year PCV) and Jean-Claude’s palace (literally their place is huge and they have a balcony almost the size of my apartment in the States) to have one last hurrah before everyone flies off to different islands. Tomorrow I and the other PCVs staying on Santiago will go pick up our stuff in S. Domingos and head off to our sites to finally start the “independent” life under the caring yet firm arm of US Peace Corps. More to report once I get to Assomada!
9/13/06
Here I sit, in my new house in Assomada, thinking about how to describe the situation as I find it. I haven’t written the last three days because we have spent all of those days in their entirety cleaning one of the messiest houses I’ve seen in a long time. I won’t complain long because really it’s a great house, incredibly large (nowhere in my imagination did I picture living in these conditions while doing the Peace Corps, I almost feel guilty writing about it) with three rooms, a kitchen, 1 ½ bathrooms, and a large entry room. No one-room shack with a latrine in back and a mud-thatched roof. That said, I felt in part as though I was entering an old abandoned haunted house where you heard rumors that someone had once lived, but perhaps someone died or fled suddenly from the house and left everything as it was. It was a bit crazy: dead bugs everywhere, a good thick layer of dirt, grime and cobwebs over everything, dirty dishes in the sink, molded food in the refrigerator (complete with a frozen fish peeking out of the freezer), furniture carelessly strewn about, a bathroom door that doesn’t close, a leaky sink, and one bathroom I still won’t even open the door to because of the scary smell and 2 inches of dirt over everything. The house smelled as though any moment I would uncover whatever animal had been so unfortunate as to die in some hidden cabinet or drawer. So needless to say, Nick and I had a lot of work ahead of us, with the help of another Volunteer placed in Assomada working with the environment. We had to throw away all the junk that had been left behind by the last PCV, rearrange furniture, take off all sheets and fabrics to be immediately washed, and then tackle each room one by one. I spent an entire afternoon/evening scouring the bathroom, which was very unsightly, unusable, and reeked of things I won’t speak of. The only way I could make the bathtub (yeah, we actually have a bathtub!) usable was to take steel wool and a whole lot of elbow grease to it, taking off a thick layer of who-knows-what. But now it’s pretty much ready for use. And now after three straight days of cleaning, we’ve just about got the whole house done, I can’t believe how fast we did it! We still haven’t approached that other disgusting bathroom, but it can wait. The most important part is that our rooms are set up so we can start unpacking and feeling as though it really is home. Hopefully we’ll get the leaky sink and windows fixed soon enough.
* * *
Today I started my first day at “work”, though really I just met with my counterpart and we toured the Center, walked around town to see some of the important locations, then met my other counterpart at the CEJ (youth center), walked through the camara and met some people, made my face familiar around town, etc. I won’t be actually starting much work for a week or two (and even then it will be minimal at first) so that I can just focus on integrating, getting to know the people I’ll be working with, learning my way around town, getting settled in at the house, etc. I got to meet several of the girls that live at the Center today, and I think I’m going to have a great time, they’re really sweet! They were fascinated by me and after a few minutes of skeptical observation, they sat down and started talking to me. There’s a girl who’s deaf and mute named Eunice who’s very sweet and with whom I’ll hopefully be able to find a decent way to communicate. There are a few girls who seem very troubled, who have behavioral problems and don’t talk much. A few girls have developmental and mental disabilities, one of whom I met this morning and whom is very sweet. She’s a wanderer, though, and they have to lock the doors so that she doesn’t go out onto the streets and try to run away or wander off. In Santa Catarina they only have one psychologist for all ICM functions (including both centers in Assomada and Picos), and she has to spread out her time between all 60-ish children in the centers, many of whom need severe intervention. According to Ivete (my counterpart), psychologists in the ICM don’t usually last more than a couple of months, no one wants to work in a place that has that much need and pays little. The psychologist they have now has been there one year, so she’s hoping that the woman will stay on for awhile. Unfortunately, it’s a similar situation as in the States: people with degrees in psychology only want to work for more money, in things like private practice, rather than the poorly-paid ICM workers. That’s why, just like in the US, there’s a shortage of dedicated social workers and other social service employees, because they get paid so poorly. I wish I knew how to change that, how to rearrange priorities. There certainly won’t be a shortage of things for me to do while I’m here. Additionally, I’ve already received several requests to teach English, so it looks like I’ll be plenty busy these next two years. The social worker that works at the Center, Andreia, is from Portugal and seems extremely nice and will be wonderful to work with. I’m excited that I’ll hopefully be working a lot alongside her, learning the ropes of social services for youth in Cape Verde. Although she’s knew to CV as well, only a year and half in country. We’ll learn together. At any rate, I’m here, I’m settled, and hopefully in for two great years of working hard and making progress for Assomada. Overall, I’m very happy to be here, very excited to learn the way of life in Assomada, and hoping that eventually I’ll get the hang of cooking. In the meantime, it’s peanut butter on crackers and cheese on bread:).
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Another day, another dollar
So this computer won't read my jump drive to upload what I previously wrote, but there wasn't much to report anyway. Maybe I'll be able to do it this week, if I have the patience. This has just been a kind of frustrating week, so I'll leave the words to a minimum so as to not appear impatient or cranky...That said, anyone have any encouraging or kind words to say?? I could use a pick-me-up.
I love you all, hope your weekend is starting off better than mine!
I love you all, hope your weekend is starting off better than mine!
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