Fanta, Fanta, don't you wanta?

This will be a quick entry because I have nothing pre-written, just am here in the PC office with free internet and thought I'd update.

So I have been working on this photography project that will tie in with my Masters thesis. Here's the idea: you place cameras in the hands of populations that don't normally have access to cameras and aren't accustomed to having their perspectives shown through imagery (i.e. abused, abandoned, and orphaned girls from the Center), teach them how to use the cameras, and orient them towards using the new skill to take pictures in the community with the goal of enacting social change. So for example, you spend 4-5 months training the girls, talking about issues in the community, having them practice taking pictures, and giving them an objective: i.e. take pictures of how you view the role of women in your community, or take pictures of something you would like to see changed in your community. Through the experience, they learn a new skill, become more actively involved in their community, and improve their own self-esteem and leadership skills. In the end, you organize one or multiple expositions, at least one of which has the express intention of inviting important figures in power who could potentially enact change as a result of viewing the images. So throughout this whole process, the girls are taking responsibility for a project, are learning how to articulate and portray their own opinions and points of view, and are having their voices heard in a really meaningful and emotionally impacting way. So that's the idea.

However since I started searching, I had been having trouble getting donations of cameras so that I could really get started. I decided to send out an email to all the PCVs here in Cape Verde just to see what ideas they could come with, if they had more suggestions I hadn't thought of. Lo and behold, I received a mountain of ideas, suggestions, web site links, and people ready and willing to donate cameras to the project! I am continually impressed by the willingness of the people around me to move to action. All it takes is a tiny suggestion, a question or request for advice, and people come running. So I have a professional photographer from the States wanting to be involved and several people saying they are ready to donate cameras and where can they send them? Wow. Hopefully I will get the needed 15-20 cameras (anyone reading this interested??) in time to get things rolling, organize my thesis and get it IRB-approved, and locate enough Cape Verdean photography professionals willing to be involved in the whole process. And find a grant to apply for to get the funds needed to sustain the project (buy film if needed, develop film or print photos, put together an exposition, buy notebooks and scrapbooks for the participants, travel costs, etc.). That's the biggie. It's always money, right? Hmph, I hate to even hint at the idea that the project may hinge on something I dislike so much. But I will do what I can with as little as possible and slowly but surely we will get there! More than anything I am just jazzed that so many people are interested in and supportive of the project idea. I got such an overwhelming response, it has really motivated me to get off my butt and start going. The hardest part might just be getting wililng, available, excited and qualified Cape Verdeans interested enough to help me out and run some of the training sessions. That will hopefully come together soon enough. I have a few leads so far, but most live in Praia and are otherwise employed.

Anyway I wanted to share that with you all to let you know how things are progressing, see if any of you at home have suggestions or ideas or would like to help contribute. Altogether we are a wealth of knowledge and resources and it's exciting to see things come together from all angles.

So this week has been overall a pretty productive one. Getting the volunteer corps all organized so people can begin helping out in the Center has been going smoothly. Friday I meet with the Red Cross (over 60 youth) to explain the needs and the process for becoming a volunteer, and hopefully all the people who have shown interest will follow through and come to fill out the needed form. I am also continuing to work on the income-raising project (remember the hats we want to make?), but that will require looking for starting-up funding. Anyone know of any good grants we might qualify for? Preferably ones that don't have an extremely long approval process. I know, I ask so much:).

Okay, so that is it for now, I'll write more later. If anyone finds any of these current projects interesting and has advice or would like somehow to be involved, please feel free to let me know. My email is courtdog88@yahoo.com (a link to which is also located in my profile), or you can leave comments.

I hope you are all having wonderful weeks. I am, and partly because I am currently playing hooky for the afternoon in Praia. Ha! Take that, busy stressful life!

This too shall pass

4/1/07

Today I realized that Peace Corps Cape Verde has taken away a piece of my soul.

It cannot fully be blamed on Peace Corps, as the culmination of experience and context create what I feel or am lacking. However, a part of me is literally missing due to unnecessary and overwhelming bureaucracy, complete lack of organization, absence of much meaningful support or encouragement, and a ridiculous amount of paper usage. (Note: Yes, I am allowed to say this because if you’ll notice the disclaimer, my words are not Peace Corps’ words and represent only what I feel.) It may sound as though my complaint comes in jest, but really in all honesty I feel as though a significant part of who I am is now gone, or at least severely diminished. And up until now I have felt as though my stress, exhaustion, frustration, etc. were simply due to the nature of youth development and working with disadvantaged and abused children—which I’m sure is partly true—; however now I am realizing that the bureaucratic organization I find myself immersed in plays a significant role in the demoralizing, un-motivating, life-sucking force that claims the portion of me that I want back. The rational side of me begs a qualification, a voice from the other side singing the praises of the one US organization that seeks to do as it should rather than start wars and screw people over even more than they already are. So there, that song has been sung, and will be sung again. But for right now, I will fully own what my heart feels, and that is lonely, empty, and frustrated. Many PCVs spend a significant amount of time complaining about all the frustrating details that come with living under the strong arm of the Peace Corps, and for the most part I listened willingly though quietly assuring myself that they were just “complainers”, people who don’t know how to suck it up and adjust to a new environment with new rules. Now, I have come to see that it has little to do with lack of flexibility and understanding on the part of the PCV, and everything to do with an inadequately functioning program that makes your job much harder than it needs to be. And I am quite certain that it is specific to Peace Corps Cape Verde and is not a Peace Corps-wide problem, because of comments made by PCVs coming from other countries of service.

Instead of listening to our input and making subsequent adjustments, they play this game called “I’ll pretend to listen to you now, but tomorrow I’ll conveniently forget every word you’ve said to me”—it’s the most mind-numbingly ridiculous game that is consistently in play every time you attempt a conversation with the majority of PC staff in this country, save the few that make working here more than worthwhile. This may sound unfair, and they may be doing the best they can, etc. etc. etc. (preservation of their feelings and their personal passion is essential at one point or another), but there is a limit to one’s ability to give grace and room for mistakes and growth. I have reached it. I think most other PCVs reached it awhile ago. It is unacceptable to be so disorganized and behind in preparation that you solicit a Volunteer’s help organizing, managing, and running their sector’s Pre-Service Training (PST) for the incoming Trainees rather than merely asking for their assistance in a few specialty or advice areas that may be better handled by a Volunteer. I have no problem helping out—particularly because I want it to be a better experience for the new group than it was for us—but it’s not okay to expect me to take it on as my job to organize and run their PST. That is Case in Point #1. We won’t complete the other Case in Points at this time, partly to preserve mental sanity, and partly to keep from overwhelming negativity and projecting it onto my home audience. Suffice it to say that “Ya basta”: I’ve had enough. My job is ridiculously tough enough without it being made more difficult by people who don’t understand what I truly need.

How do I maintain my calm, cheerful, and optimistic personality with all this???? Who am I becoming????

I don’t like it. And I don’t know if I can take any more of this personality stripping. I am not a servile robot, and feel as though my energetic warmth, the force that has kept me going, is slowly leaking out. Something is limited me from being who I really am.

It’s hard because when I’m at site, with my colleagues, I’m usually not as stressed out, and even at times remembering why I’m here and why I like what I’m doing. I make friends, have great opportunities to collaborate and get people involved in projects, and could really get things accomplished. There are more than enough positives to keep me here.

I realized this weekend when I talked to my mom and my sister and tried to explain my current funk that found within that piece of my soul that Peace Corps Cape Verde ripped from me is my ability to articulate in any sensical way what I am feeling or thinking. I have no idea anymore, can’t even form a coherent sentence. Maybe I’ve just been trying for too long. Is that it? Who knows…But what I do know is that something is shifting inside of me. Part of me on some days wants to run away screaming or hide in my room and not talk to anyone, and the other part of me knows I’m not a quitter and remembers why I like helping kids.

One thing I just realized that is starting to scare me: I’m so sick of people asking me for things, wanting my help, requesting my presence, needing things from me that it is driving me inside of myself—both literally and figuratively. I’m afraid to go out around town because I will see someone who asks me for something, and even becoming afraid to explore myself emotionally. There are days when things just don’t feel right. I’m exhausted, but it’s more than that. I wish I could explain it without making it sound as though I’m miserable. I’m not. Just confused. And wondering how to get the experience I sought after in the first place, because this isn’t it. This is what I wanted later in life when I am more mature and prepared—instead I just end up feeling inadequate, unable to stand up to the test. And it's not just job-wise, I don't like my lifestyle. I don't like the pace, the quickness, the movement, the pressure, the development coming at you at all angles. I want to STOP.

What I am now realizing is that I can and will allow myself to speak aloud and embrace what I truly want, even if it means saying that this isn't it. I love this experience and adore everything that Cape Verde has offered me. I will finish my service with pleasure and vigor to accomplish all that I can within the time frame. I have learned so much and have grown a large space in my heart for all of the culture and love and lessons I have received from this country and my service. But I am allowing myself to say that it isn't the experience I wanted and that I will continue to look for that experience. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. So at the end of two years I am thinking of extending my service for another year in another country, on the continent of Africa at a rural site. There are good youth development programs where I can work to develop girls' leadership, and I believe I can count on a good recommendation. So I will seek that experience. Because I can, and I think that's okay. I will be flexible until my legs are tangled behind me, and I will soak up everything this wonderful country and experience has to offer. But in the end I will move on and continue to seek what my heart is calling for.

Anyway I think all my drama widdles down to the fact that I need to learn to say no to the things I don't want and to be okay with it, and then sit back and calmly do the things I can do. Because I’m slacking on the things I’ve told people I would do.

Ah, vida…when will you give me a break?

On a different note, today is my dad’s birthday—so happy birthday, Dad!!! Hope you had a wonderful day, sorry it wasn’t possible for me to talk to you. But you are in my thoughts.

4/3/07

So I guess I should go back and recap IST from this past week. My entry on Sunday probably makes it seem as though it was awful: it was and it wasn’t. In all honesty, it was wonderful to see all the PCVs I haven’t seen since September and catch up, have fun, laugh, joke, etc. etc. Night time was play time, and that’s always fun. Even if you pay for it the next day. And I can’t say that all of the day sessions were painful or not worthwhile, because there were some helpful things covered and tiny steps taken towards being prepared for the upcoming PST—although please note that the point of IST is not to prepare for PST, it is supposed to be helping you with the things you need to continue with and improve your service, which in this case it did not really do, at least not to the extent hoped for. While we had some decent sessions on funding and project design, most time was spent helping them flesh out minute PST details. That said, it was a glaringly bright peek at what stress and annoyance will come with said PST. The disorganization, the miscommunication, and the sessions that accomplish very little. Buuuut I also understand that they are doing the best they can and will continue to grow and develop as the staff gains more experience and learns to work together. Aren’t I so “PC”?

All in all, IST made me both dread the new group’s PST and all the more motivated to make it better. We’ll see which of these I’m feeling when the new group actually gets here. For as much as I was looking forward to IST, I was pretty glad to get back to Assomada—back to the calm, steady day-to-day where I’m not out all night or sitting in sessions all day. Sometimes I itch to get out and have a change of pace, but I’m always glad to come back “home”.

4/10/07

Looking back on the past week and a half, it was pretty positive, even if I got virtually no real “work” done. Right now Cape Verdean students are on their spring break and have about a week and a half off from school over Easter, so many of the girls from the Center left last Monday to spend a week with family members or friends. So for the past week there have only been 13 girls in the Center with me and the “team”. Apparently this meant a break from work for the monitoras, who took advantage of the lack of girls to do very little with the ones who were left there. So I spent pretty much all my time with them. Just hanging out, playing, finding things to do. It kind of felt like summer break when you sit on your front porch looking for things to do, complaining that you’re bored when your parents tell you there are “millions of things you could do”, none of which you want or are motivated to do. But I did try and organize some things for the poor trapped prisoners. On Wednesday we went on a hike to the big tree (if I haven’t mentioned it before, it’s this humongous acacia tree just outside Assomada that’s supposedly the biggest tree in the country…though according to Alex there’s one in every town in Guinea), which was fun. The monitora that was supposed to go never showed up for work, so luckily I had arranged for a girl from the CEJ to go with us so I wasn’t stuck by myself. Didn’t surprise me one bit.

The rest of the week we hung out and played soccer at the Polivalente (local sports court), ate fresquinhas (little homemade popsicles they sell like crazy here), and just enjoyed each other’s presence. On Good Friday there was no work, so no one came to be with the girls (except for the mães, for whom there are no real holidays), so Mel and I went and painted Easter eggs with them, which was entertaining, and overall a success, even though the only food coloring we found was red and blue, so we had just red, blue and purple eggs. After the egg-painting, I brought all of the girls to my house to make cookies and have fun outside of the Center. I put on music, they played cards and bounced around the soccer ball, we danced, and we used the Ghirardelli chocolate chips my grandma sent me to make delicious chocolate chip cookies for the Center and for my homestay family in São Domingos. Igor ended up coming up from São D and played with the girls, which was nice.

I think they had a great time (I know I did), and especially liked playing with my new kitty—Oh! I got a new kitty! Her name is Cinza, which means ash because she is this beautiful charcoal-y color of ash (she is a tortoise-shell, just like Rocky back at home), though the girls decided to name her Baby and Chocolate. They say her “nomi di kaza” (household name) is Baby and her “nomi di igreja” (church name, or registered name) is Chocolate. I still call her Cinza. She is adorable, but she is as playful as a bat out of hell and doesn’t let me sleep. She is so very rambunctious, but she is very much a mama’s girl and never leaves my side. It’s so wonderful to have companionship and someone to look after. And the best thing: she’s already potty-trained, since the first night I got her. After we gave her a thorough bath and picked out all her fleas, she curled up in bed with me and shortly after peed over all my sheets. I showed her that was bad and immediately put her in the box I set up for her, and ever since she has used the box every time. Excellent. Here are some pictures of my adorable new friend:

The girls say if I can’t take her back to America with me, they will gladly take care of her. One of the girls, Deise, carried her around all day in my blanket, like her own little baby. So cute. Although I will say this: I can’t wait for her to grow up and get out of the playing-all-night-and-scratching-the-crap-out-of-me phase. I forgot how much patience is needed in taking care of little kitties.

On Saturday, Nick, the Brazilians, the Brazilians’ mom, and I went out to Aguas Belas and then hiked to Rincão, crazy Mike’s site. Crazy Mike is this hilarious and slightly insane Volunteer who eats enough for an army and was well-integrated into his community within like 5 seconds. Anyway, we went out to Aguas Belas, which is this great little rocky beach where there’s a cave you can swim into (which we did). Note: this beach is rocky for the same reason Ribeira da Barca is rocky, if you remember from before—people have taken away all the sand, and continue to take it by diving in the water. Not cool, but if you ask them, they say “We have to eat, there’s no other living.” Also not cool. Anyway, we swam a little, ate a little, basked in the sun a little, then commenced the long trek (long only because it was in the hottest part of the day with no shade and little water to drink) to Rincão. There we found water, were invited to lunch by a friend of Mike’s, were incessantly harassed by a ridiculously drunk Cape Verdean man (what’s a day in this country without one of those?), went for another swim in the slightly sandier (for now) beach, and then started off for home after a long, very sunny day. I liked Rincão from what I saw, which granted was very little, and would like to go back. Mike wants to arrange some tents and go camping there—I’m definitely game.

Later that night was my counterpart’s wedding ceremony. After living with the father of her 3-year-old son for several years, she decided it was time to get married. In Cape Verde, the concept of marriage is uncommon, at least not until you are older (i.e. 30s and 40s). This does not mean they don’t start families young—quite the contrary—but just that marriage to them is a mere formality, something they see little purpose to. They generally live with their partners like husband and wife for years before they get money together to have a ceremony and throw a party, if they even do it. When they do, there’s generally 3 parts involved: first you have to have a legal ceremony in the courthouse to be considered married by the government. Then most choose to have a church ceremony, which they consider the “real” wedding, even if not considered legal by itself. The third part is the party, which is more important than the ceremony. In some cases they start partying at the first ceremony and don’t stop until the couple has long gone for their honeymoon. Generally though there’s at least a day-long party the day after the church service. I wasn’t able to go to Ivete’s because I spent Easter in São Domingos with my host family. Ivete’s wedding ceremony at the church was the first one I’ve been to here in Cape Verde, and it wasn’t scheduled to start until 10:00 at night. Huh. I realized then that it probably meant that they would talk, sing, read from the Bible, etc. until midnight, at which point they would perform the service so that technically they would be married on Easter. I was right. However it was not just a marriage ceremony prefaced by a long and slightly boring service. It was two marriage ceremonies prefaced by not only a long and slightly boring service, but by four baptisms and then followed by a christening and an Easter mass. It was one of the longest nights of my life (alright, I exaggerate). It was a really big day for Ivete, as she was getting baptized and married, and her son was christened, but holy crap was I tired. I should have known I was in for the longest Catholic service ever. I was there until 2 am, and we left before the mass was over. She did look quite beautiful though.

On Easter day I took the cookies we made and headed for São D to spend the day with family and friends, a blessing beyond what I can describe. It is so comforting to have a family and a community to spend the holidays with, even if it’s not your own biological family. It was a wonderful day, echoing with the sounds of laughter, excessive teasing, and explosively energetic card games. I saw almost everyone I know from São D at a big community-wide Easter party and got to learn how to roll the maça balls to throw in the cooking pot. Maça is this dough-like mixture made from corn flour that you roll into little balls and cook until they’re thick and chewy—very yummy with a chicken stew or cachupa. It was really fun, too, because all the women gather around this huge pot on the fire and grab handfuls of the maça dough to roll and toss into the pot, laughing and gossiping as they work. It is, like most other things women do here, a social event where jokes are told and each woman’s cooking style is critiqued. One woman was incessantly chastising the others for dropping maça balls or missing the pot. “Almost a kilo of maça on the ground! Who taught you how to throw? Lift your arms, ladies!” She was a kick. Coming back at this point in my service is bizarre, because now I actually understand about 90% of what is said, instead of standing around shy and unsure, not wanting to ask questions. This time I could laugh and joke along with them, and could respond to my mama’s loud, slurred, and ridiculously fast Criolu without asking for her to repeat it five times. It lifts one’s drowning spirit to feel like you have somehow “made it” in the grand scheme of cross-cultural integration, and when you realize you can still be funny in another language.

Being in São D reminded me of how much I like the feeling of that small community, more than the fast pace of Assomada. Without doubt, Assomada is calma and much smaller than Praia, content with its quiet house-bound nights and closer-knit community members more likely to know who lives down the road than people in the capital city. Yet Assomada is continuously growing, constantly moving to that point at which it ceases to look and sound like a pseudo-city and actually becomes a city. It just doesn’t feel as homey until you get to the outskirts of Assomada, where you can hear the “Txiga!” and see people truly enjoying the presence of others. In São D I can approach the town rapazes (young men) without hearing “branca, abo e bonita” (“white girl, you’re beautiful”) or being too overly disgusted by the Cape Verdean rape stare. That doesn’t go away no matter where you go in this country, but there are levels, and Assomada’s is higher than that of São D. I can actually have male friends there, which has still been hard for me to do in Assomada. I just don’t trust them and generally get frustrated too quickly. But I digress.

Last thing to mention since I last updated: yesterday was funcionarios day for the Center, where all the employees of the Center (and me) went out for the day and had a BBQ in Rui Vaz, a community just up the hill from São Domingos. We sent the girls off to the boys’ center in Picos, packed everything up in the car, and went on our merry way to begin our day without responsibilities. After driving around forever to find a good spot to set up camp, we finally settled in and grilled fish, chicken, and pork for a delicious lunch, complete with gooey chocolate cake. We chatted, laughed, rested, danced, and took tons of pictures. I was the official photographer for the day and gladly accepted my duty as an opportunity to join people together and get them up and moving around. I took 74 pictures in all. I was busy. They turned on the music and went to town, and eventually I got a chance to impress them with my wild funana abilities, which they all agreed were more than acceptable. That’s what you get for having hips and a well-endowed back end to work with. Overall, it turned out to be a fun day that I think everyone enjoyed. It gave them a chance to relax and socialize outside of work, but I think honestly I gained more from it than them, just for the chance to get to know them on a personal non-work level. Until now I have never felt fully comfortable around them (specifically the mães), always nervous and unsure of myself, losing all confidence and ability to speak around them (I honestly have no idea why, they’re not that intimidating) to the extent that I’m sure most of them think I just don’t understand hardly any Criolu. But this gave me a chance to relax and talk with them more naturally instead of merely in situations of asking for something. So for me it was good, a chance to connect on a different level, making future work efforts a lot easier. All work and no play make Center workers dull and frustrated boys and girls (mostly girls).

Anyhow, so that was the last few weeks for me. I’ll let it all sink in and you can digest it before I move on with the introspective analysis. Save that for next week. Bet you can’t waitJ.