Home again, home again, jiggity jig

1/8/07

How was my brief vacation? Hmmm…well I suppose it was what it was supposed to be, in more ways than one. I had a great time seeing other Volunteers, traveling to other islands, and enjoying the beach. I thought very little about anything work-related, and I got to eat out on several occasions. At the same time, now that I’m back I realize the vacation showed me that a few days away doesn’t erase all the stress of working with troubled children, that comes rushing back to punch you in the face. Maybe no amount of vacation can de-stress you enough to return ready to fight back. But first for a summary of the vacation.

We were set to leave Wednesday evening, giving us the day to get ready, tie up loose ends, etc. The airlines called me at 8-ish in the morning to let me know that the flight had been changed—but not delayed as might be normal in the States, it was almost 8 hours early. Which meant we had to scramble to throw things in a bag and get on the road in order to make it to the airport in time. It also meant we had some extra time in Sal, so can’t complain too much. We explored the beach that afternoon, gasped at the sight of all the white tourists, and came back to fix Kyle dinner that night. I’m not lying about the white-ness: we both felt like we were in Santa Monica, California, except with a bunch of different languages being spoken by the scattered Europeans. It was such a bizarre feeling, we were 80% convinced we were no longer in Cape Verde. Everyone spoke English to us, not even Portuguese, as many people on Santiago assume we speak. Even when we tried to speak Criolu back, most people kept speaking English, amused and probably befuddled that we were speaking what seems to only remain as remnants of a mother tongue that used to be. There seems to be a huge loss of language, with virtually no respect for Criolu or its significance to their culture. To make money, everyone learns English, French, Italian, maybe some German, and of course Portuguese. We spoke more Criolu with the Africans that come from the continent to sell arts and crafts—the ones that don’t natively speak Criolu and learned it when they got here. It’s just a strange feeling, one that was very unsettling for me. I’ll get to my rant on tourism later. For now, on with the rest of vacation. We spent virtually all of our time in Sal shuttling back and forth between Espargos (where Kyle lives) and Santa Maria, where the nice beautiful beach is, eating out, looking for trinkets, and enjoying the beach. Which was as gorgeous and white-sandy as I expected:). Unfortunately it was crazy windy the whole time we were there, so it was a little cold, too cold to swim, but gorgeous nonetheless. Our last afternoon there we went to Pedra de Lume, where the salt mines are so Mel could enjoy rocks and geology on her birthday. I thought it was pretty cool, I hope she liked it.

We flew into Boavista on Friday evening (about 8 ½ hours after originally planned) to meet Nadia, Leland, and Caryn for a small Capricorn party for those of us with birthdays between mine and Nadia’s. We made dinner, chatted, caught up on all the gossip and work news we’d been experiencing the last 3 months, and just basically had a chill evening. The next day we spent entirely at the beach, within short walking distance from their house. Let me just say, so far Boavista is one of the best islands, aside of course from the one I call home. It was so relaxed, so beautiful, so calming. We had the beach virtually to ourselves, save a few Europeans who live and work there and spend their days kite-surfing and windsurfing. It was such a different feel from Sal, so much less stressful and unnerving. We laid there all day, uninterrupted and stopping only to eat when we felt like it. I’m not sure I can explain it, but Boavista just had a different air to it, a clean, calm, and tranquil air that hopefully won’t change drastically as the push for tourism spreads like a virus through the islands. We spent the night drinking and being merry, playing cards and having a good time before leaving the next morning. We were supposed to be coming home to IST (in-service training) on Monday morning, but Peace Corps in all its genius decided on Friday to cancel, or temporarily postpone IST due to the potential of having flight issues with the winds coming in from the Sahara. So disappointing. Though no one was probably looking much forward to sitting in sessions all day like in PST, we were all really excited to see everyone, coming together for the first time since training. I suppose it will have to wait till the end of the month, or whenever they decide to reschedule it. It’s frustrating, though, and caused a lot of hassle for people’s travel plans, as many people who had already left for other islands to get to Santiago got stuck there. It all seemed so unnecessary, but I’m sure there are reasons for it—there always have to be reasons, even ones we don’t like. Can’t let disorganization stress you out or it will be a long 2 years. Well, now more like 1 ½. Anyway, that leaves me back at work on this lovely Monday morning when I wasn’t emotionally prepared for it. More on that later. Thus, in conclusion: my vacation was extremely short yet much-needed and beneficial. No work was done, books were read, and rest was had.

Okay, prepare for a rant on tourism to follow, as promised:

I know most people praise the merits of tourism as the almighty answer to poverty and lack of resources, but there is still something very large that doesn’t sit right with me. It’s such a blatant abuse of the power differential that exists in the world and between cultures, creating a servile culture where Cape Verdeans have to kiss the ass of the rich white foreigners that come on vacation in order to survive. Yes, building huge luxury hotels and beachfront restaurants gives local citizens jobs as taxi drivers, hotel maids, waiters, etc. (all jobs serving in a position innately below the foreigners), but in actuality most of the money generated isn’t staying in the country, and certainly isn’t spreading to everyone. It creates a class divide, between those who have access to tourism and the ability to get a job, those with access to education and the ability to learn foreign languages, and those who still starve. It just feels like it’s taken advantage of a desperate situation: people who have few natural resources to provide a substantial income are looking for a way to eat and provide for family, and the great white saviors come in with the answer: building large disgusting displays of wealth that create the aura of “perfect beach hotspot for tourists” and providing wondrous jobs to boost the local economy. I suppose beggars can’t be choosers, right? But that’s exactly the point that frustrates me. Taking advantage of desperation because we are in a position to do so. I would feel better if there were at least significant efforts to make tourism projects more culturally-sensitive, or even to pause for a second to recognize that there is such a thing as culture. Globalization has its consequences, no matter how much we don’t want to acknowledge them. Already Criolu is being pushed aside, people are acting, talking, and looking more like foreigners, and there is little real sense of what constitutes real Cape Verdean culture. Europeans come in and are tickled with the handful of black people they see (many from the continent), nudging their spouse to gasp, “Honey, look at these neat little crafts the Cape Verdeans make to sell to us—such beautiful wooden masks!” when really none of it is made here or by Cape Verdeans. There’s nothing wrong with West Africans from the continent coming in to try and make a living, to do what they can to provide a better life; and if they find a market, good for them I suppose. But it seems to ignore the ability of Cape Verdeans to come in and corner the arts and crafts market themselves. Are they just too lazy to do it? I don’t know, and I don’t know what the real answer is that allows them to support their economy while preserving cultural identity, but this just doesn’t feel right. As we walked around Sal and saw all the huge luxury hotels on the beach, I kept thinking back to the videos we watched in my anthropology nonwestern social change class about rural tourism in African societies, how all these rich white tourists come in with their cameras thinking they can capture a new reality, missing the point altogether and changing things subtly in the process. They want the exotic, the dramatically different while still living in their own standard of comfort. Coming to see the “natives” while returning at night to their five-star hotel with a full bar, Jacuzzi, and day spa.

It’s difficult addressing the issue in a nation of islands, though, because geography allows that one island may receive the most tourism, without spreading the wealth to the other islands that may need it more. Additionally, tourists see one narrow aspect of the country’s culture, which in the case of Sal is nowhere near the culture of the rest of the country in some aspects. Can’t please everyone I suppose, and maybe I’m too cynical about the whole thing, but I think the Cape Verdeans deserve more. I don’t like seeing their need be taken advantage of so that we can come in and bring change on our terms, in our way. And the thing is, Cape Verde has been receiving aid for so many years, since the beginning of its existence as a colony of Portugal, and continuing with its only recent independence, that it has come to rely on it. It is a country that survives largely on international assistance, economically and socially. This has created a type of learned helplessness that lacks the mentality that they can think for themselves, create change for themselves, and do things on their own to provide sustenance for their existence. When you ask a Cape Verdean to come up with something new or creative, there seems to be little response, not sure what to say. They love to talk and have their opinion heard, but aren’t used to having to think of things critically, to problem solve on their own. This isn’t to say they are all mindless robots or lack creativity entirely, but just that it’s hard to get them to try new things or think up new things. If it’s not handed down from Portugal or Brazilian novellas, they are wary. And the thing is, Cape Verdean culture is so complex, including so many factors and influences, that I’ve never found it so difficult to sit here and try to describe with any definitive sense the culture that exists here. And perhaps that’s not really my job, to claim I can say anything concrete about a culture I’m not a member of, but in trying to ascertain the origins of the things I see, to see a reason or explanation for anything, is increasingly difficult. I can’t seem to draw clear lines anymore, especially when it comes to situations with my girls at the Center. I can’t tell if they behave as they do because they have terrible histories and family situations, or if it is some cultural aspect I haven’t yet perceived or been made aware of. I’m so careful not to tread on the sanctity of culture that I don’t want to place a label on anything, but there are so many things that grate against my socialization, what I’m used to. It’s hard to say anymore, which things come from which direction, are influenced by which country, come from which source. Is that an African trait, Portuguese, Brazilian, American, human nature in general? I don’t know what it is about me that wants to be able to specifically define origins, divide people and their culture, their behavior, but I suppose it has much to do with protection, with the sanctity of tradition and not wanting to lose one’s roots or something precious that exists in the indigenous, in the traditional as opposed to the modern. Anyway, I'm rambling again...more to come later, don't worry:)