Goodbye vacation, hello real world.

2/25/07

I returned from a week-long vacation on Friday, during which I spent Carnaval (a big Brazilian-style celebration Cape Verde does up big) in Mindelo, São Vicente with a bunch of other PCVs. But before all that, here is what I was leaving the week before I left:
*Zelda had another “episode”, acting aggressive and then jumping out the window. One of the monitoras went after, following her on a wild goose chase to the hospital, and then trying to bring her back. She was in such a fit, the police had to help to bring her back to the Center. Once inside, Zelda grabbed the monitora fiercely by the hair and wouldn’t let go, yanking until the police had to smack her six times on the leg for her to let go, with a handful of the monitora’s hair in the end. The monitora was in hysterics, sobbing fiercely and hardly able to breathe. Once we calmed her down we sent her home. Hopefully she’ll come back.
*We finally held our donations-distributing party to give out the kits I made of the clothes, combs, hair things, etc. that we received from all my family and their colleagues in Washington. I explained where they came from and how to be grateful (only after we had gotten them calmed down enough to hand them out), and encouraged them to find a special way to thank the people who had been kind enough to give of their time and possessions. Here are a few pictures we took of the girls with their things:

*We found out that one of the older girls at the Center led a group of younger girls to skip school and they instead walked around town asking for money, presenting a fake card that said they were having some sort of school party they needed to raise money for. So they went around begging like street children in various zones, traveling pretty far away from the Center. Eventually they saw three young men (in their 20s), one of whom claimed to know one of the girls and invited them to come to his home. They all went in, and the little girls listened to music while one of the older girls (13 years old) went into the kitchen to “get some water”, where the man told her he would give her 500 escudos (about $5) if she would kiss him. This is the story the girls were telling, though we wonder if it was likely more than a kiss he offered up, since more has been done for much less than 500 escudos. He showed the girl pornographic images and films, until she felt uncomfortable and managed to take the younger girls and leave. Absolutely disgusting, I’m appalled by this blatantly troubling situation in which a Cape Verdean man clearly tried to take advantage of one of my girls and teach her that her body is for sale. I wanted to castrate him. Once we get all the girls’ stories straight we are going to go looking for the guy to speak with him about the situation and see if charges need to be pressed. In the scheme of things that take place around the world and in most of the US, this is a small ordeal, we can count our blessings that nothing more happened. But she is one of my girls, someone who has already had a life no one deserves. So I was not happy to hear about it. We still think that there is more to the story, since the girl who led the whole excursion has a notably disturbed sexual development and has been abused in the past, but for now we have to go on what we’ve been told.
*Consequently, the same girl offered money for a kiss was involved in a fight just afterward in the Center—but not with other girls, with a mãe. Unfortunately it’s not uncommon for them to act out aggressively against the girls, but this particular mãe is worse than the rest, consistently claiming she has no problem with hitting children for discipline and often acting like a child, showing no interest in caring for the kids in this Center. This particular fight was physical and she nearly injured the girl. Disciplinary measures are being taken, in addition to the process that has been going for a while to get her removed from her position at the Center.
One of the 14-year-old girls was caught with a cell phone (apparently her boyfriend’s) that had crude pornographic video clips on it. Later that same day, her mãe brought us a notebook found in the girl’s room that was filled (literally crammed full) of pornography—very crude and graphic pictures taken from magazines and the internet. While it may be normal (particularly it seems in Cape Verde) to utilize pornography in stages of sexual curiosity (and seriously I’ve never been in a more sexual culture in my life), the part that is disturbing is that the 8-year-old that shares a room with this girl found the notebook and its images. Things like that can’t be brought into our Center, one that has girls of all ages, tiny to not-so-tiny. Not to mention the fact that most of these girls have unsettling sexual histories and have been abused at least once in their lives. Sexual education needs to be focused on to correct some of the faulty ideas the girls have grown up with.
*To further illustrate this point, one of the girls was reported to be giving “sexual favors” in the community for 200 escudos. We have no more specific information, but have to take it seriously and as yet another sign of the urgency of attention paid to sexuality in the Center.
*And finally, the most disturbing of all the sexual deviancy occurring in the Center, it just came out that for over a year now, several of the girls (mostly older) have been brutally violating the young deaf mute girl, Eunice. They have taken various objects, including a towel, nail file, and a sharp object used to cut paper, and forcefully inserted them into her vagina until she began to bleed. One girl would place a hand over Eunice’s mouth while other girls watched and were offered cookies not to say anything. It made me want to cry when I heard this, because it was forceful and being acted out by the initiative of my girls, the very same who have had heinous things done to themselves. In the past, the girls have been found to act out their sexual curiosities with each other, mutually playing with each other’s sexual parts and their own. This can be seen as an opportunity for education, to explain rather than condemn, because sexual curiosity is normal and shouldn’t necessarily be repressed. But this, this violation, is much different, much worse. They have taken advantage of the one girl who can’t defend herself, who can’t say no and who can’t express her pain, can’t tell anyone what has happened to her. They tried to do it to other girls, who refused and stood up for themselves. But Eunice could say nothing, could hear nothing. It’s all logical, why they would do it, what they wanted to accomplish, but I want to cry every time I see her, knowing but unable to say what she has experienced. And so we have to take steps now to figure out how to respond. Now that I go back to work tomorrow, I will see if anything progressed last week, what I’ve missed, where we’re at. Hard to know where to start.

* * *
So needless to say I was ready for a vacation, though it pained me to tear myself away from the Center, knowing that missing one day means missing a world of events and drama that could easily leave one in the dust, clambering for understanding and comprehension (emotionally and literally with language). I see now why it is difficult—if not impossible—for someone with troubles learning and communicating the language to stay a full two years working with troubled and disadvantaged youth in a developing country. You miss one small thing, one explanation, and you’re lost. If you’re even fortunate enough to have people understanding and patient enough to explain when needed. There’s so much going on every second of every day that not understanding is not only frustrating but makes you feel incapable of really helping. All that to say I was hesitant to leave for vacation.

However, my vacation was very much worth it—I had an excellent time and was able to relax and have lots of fun seeing Volunteers I haven’t seen since we swore in. There were a decent amount of people there in Mindelo: the PCVs from Boavista, one from Maio, most of the PCVs from Santo Antão, of course those from São Vicente, and me. We ate out a ton, had ice cream (oh, glorious ice cream…), made big dinners, ate SALAD (they even had chicken and tuna salad, it was heaven), dressed up in masks, boas, glitter, and gaudy jewelry, went to parties at night, and watched most of the parades. Carnaval in Mindelo, and really all of the islands, is a big series of parades and people walking around in ridiculous and nonsensical costumes, which generally just consist of whatever was drug up from the closet or taken from parents…basically Mindelo looked like a walking Value Village. And apparently it’s super cool for men to all dress up as women and strut around. The concept of masculinity in this culture is beyond my understanding—they ooze testosterone 24 hours a day, making sure their muscles are sculpted, they have at least 3 piquenas, and they display total ownership in virtually every aspect of their lives (not being “a man” is one of the worst sins you could commit) and yet men have no problem holding hands walking down the streets or dressing up as women for Carnaval. Beats me. As a side note, it is also popular to dress up as a “badiu” (more traditional Africans from my island—I speak badiu Criolu) with the skirts, headwraps, and various items carried on the head. This is worn as a costume, to mock, showing the obvious contrast between the lifestyle and manifestation of culture that exists between Mindelo and Santiago, and the attitude held towards more traditional mentalities.

Anyway, I will definitely be trying to include a ton of pictures of the events, which were pretty great. The costumes and floats were very ornate, I was impressed that it was pulled of to the extent it was. It likely took them all year. The funny thing about parades in Cape Verde is that most of the time people are just marching or dancing down the street to drums, but no one is really watching. No one comes to claim a spot to watch the procession, and probably no one really even knows when it starts. Often there seems to be no defined parade route, just people walking around town in costume and having a good time, while no one really watches. The main parade on Tuesday was much more organized, though; this was the big event it seemed. Everyone was in their spots waiting for it to begin, and it seemed to have a pretty definite route. This was the televised one, and the one with the most elaborate costumes and floats, pictures of which are to follow.
These guys were so annoying. They ran around grunting and getting in your face, not to mention getting that black grease stuff all over your clothes. One of them came up and smeared his hand across my face, leaving a grease stain that took forever to wash off. Poo on that. This guy was ridiculous. He came up to us and demanded my water bottle. After I said no, he just grabbed it out of my hands and started drinking and passing it around to his friends. You can see the guy behind him drinking from it. Then he posed and asked me to take a picture of him, not moving until I took it. Hmph. Me, Steve, and Tiffany. Yeah, that's how we roll. Steve is pretty fun.

Overall, I really liked the feel of Mindelo. Though it was a city, it felt nothing like Praia, which is big, dirty, trafficky, and with too many people. Mindelo was much more calm, chill, clean, and European-feeling. There were tons of great restaurants, cute little cafes everywhere, and lots of music and art. It reminded me a lot of Havana, with the same artistic feel, the same multicolored buildings, the same pulsing rhythm that lets you know something lies beneath it all. I couldn’t say it is quite as vibrant as Cuba, nothing really could be (I am biased), but it still felt that way when I was there. I found it a great place to have my vacation, though admittedly I was reminded how glad I am to be on Santiago, how much I like the culture that surrounds me here. Some of the things that are different between the two islands and that I missed:
*Badiu Criolu—I craved it, wanted to speak it, to hear it, to feel its familiarity instead of the choppy northern Criolu I understood less of; even understanding aside, badiu just sounds better to my ears, feels as comfortable as a warm cup of coffee in your hands.
*Constant loud crazy hiaces driving back and forth and yelling “Praia-Praia”—yes this is one of the more annoying aspects of Assomada life, but I missed it. I missed the ajudante leaning out the window and with a wink asking if I’m going to São Domingos or Orgãos (just because I went there once and therefore must live there or plan to go every other day). I missed the eardrum-bursting funana music blasting from the car driving dangerously down the road right towards you. Mindelo just had boring taxis.
*atxupa—I had very little traditional food there, and while I enjoyed every bite of the luxurious food we had at restaurants, I realized it’s nice to have caldo de peixe every once in awhile.
*Gorgeous, dark, badiu Cape Verdeans—I’m starting to realize that my island contains the most beautiful people in the country (if not the world) and the most heartbreakingly handsome men with their dark chocolate skin, softer jawline, piercing eyes, and full lips. Other islands just don’t cut it, so I guess I’m spoiled with the eye candy I get to look at every day.
*Women carrying things on their heads—I guess this could speak to a more traditional mindset in general that exists on Santiago, but I missed seeing the utility of daily work done more efficiently.
*My huge open market—not only do I continually realize that we are really blessed to have such a wide availability of wonderful food because we are in the center of the island and thus a center of commerce (many other islands have virtually no vegetables and very little selection in the way of sustenance), but I just miss having all the women call out to you to buy their chickens. Supermarkets just don’t feel the same.
*Mel—I was very sad that she wasn’t there with us and realized how much I like having her here.
*Friends and familiar faces—it’s always weird going from somewhere where you are known and feel comfortable, to a new place where you’re just another Joe Schmoe on the streets.
*My girls—I actually missed the Center and found myself wondering how things were going, what kind of craziness I was missing out on, what I would be coming back to.

And so I am shown that despite the wonderful feel of vacation, the relaxation and complete calmness I felt, the joy of having a great time with friends, the luxury of a more developed city, and the Baileys I got to enjoy in my coffee one evening, I was ready to welcome Assomada with a big hug. I missed the experiences I have had here, the thickness of the culture and its roots in the ground. I did not, however miss having a housemate and would have appreciated more time to myself when I got back. Oh well, we can’t have it all, right?

One more thing that made my vacation perfect: Casey’s copy of the 2nd season of Grey’s Anatomy. We spent one of our “recovery” days glued to the computer screen, and then Mel and I watched the rest when I got back. 27 blissful episodes of good, dramatic, sappy television that I soaked up like a sponge. I think the best—and worst—part is that the show takes place in Seattle, so every cityscape, every glimpse of the Space Needle, every umbrella pulled out in the downpour, every steaming cup of to-go coffee made me feel cozy at the same time it stabbed me in the heart. I miss home. And so sometimes it’s important to tear yourself away from the computer screen to stop letting yourself dissolve into the former world that you can no longer enjoy because you are enjoying a new reality. Stay in the present. Remember what you’re doing, why you’re here. But it’s hard sometimes.

So I suppose that is what vacation is good for: a brief separation from the stress, from the insanity of day-to-day work that exhausts your heart and mind. Where you’re allowed to forget for one week that anything exists outside of you having fun and relaxing. Selfish, yes, but sometimes being a teeny bit selfish helps us to better serve others. Even though my girls would never have the opportunity to do the wonderful things I got to do, I can come back refreshed to try and make their lives better. So that is what I head off to do. Goodbye vacation, hello real world.

Drive in, drive out

Finally, pictures from Sal and Boavista, after much ado. This is what we did for 4-5 days:

2/2/07

I finally found something the girls AND monitoras are interested in and excited about! I have been talking with a couple other PCVs on Santiago about an idea for an income-generating project to do with the girls at the Center, and it looks like if I can get it organized, supported, and underway, it could turn out to be a success. In Cape Verde women often make things out of linha (line), a thick thread used for crocheting, usually turning out doilies, table runners, and the occasional tablecloth. They’re nice, women fill their houses with the stuff, and it’s a nice way to occupy their evenings or “free” time. Well Claudia, the PCV I did shadowing with during training, makes a lot of different things with the linha, including shawls and such, and recently including hats. They’re cute hats, kind of like little beanies with different styles and colors. And a few of us together came up with the idea of teaching the girls how to make these hats, and possibly nice bracelets as well, and creating what would essentially be a small business that would bring money into the Center. I tossed the idea out to the girls, who showed interest, and then one day I wore the hat Claudia made for me to the Center, and the girls got really excited, thought it was adorable. And every day since they’ve been asking me when the girl is going to come teach them how to make the hats. Soooo, that got me moving to start planning the project. The monitoras got word, and for the first time since I’ve been here, showed actual emotion—excitement even. One of them pulled out a bag of linha things that have been made by the girls in the past (doilies and such) that they have tried unsuccessfully to sell during expositions. I asked her what she thought about my project idea and she was very interested, which means—gasp!—I’ll have her support. A VERY important part of getting anything done. And of getting me motivated.

This is a picture of me with the hat on that Claudia made...so that's an example of what they could look like.

So I’ve begun putting together a proposal for the project, assessing costs of materials, resources needed, organization and marketing, etc. etc. so that it can get underway as soon as possible. I think that if we market them really well, find different vendors who are willing to help us sell the hats and bracelets (a PCV in Praia knows some stores that would be willing to carry them on consignment), push them hardcore in the high school and technical school (tons of adolescents looking for a new trend to adopt) and keep things very organized and proactive, this could be a big thing. Making hats out of linha is something that hasn’t been tried or thought of, and could potentially find a big market here, more so than doilies and table runners. Not only would this project bring in a little extra money to fund projects, trips, etc. but it is an excellent way to give the girls a chance to learn responsibility and organization, and a feeling that they are contributing in the Center and that their abilities and efforts are worthwhile. It gives them something to occupy their time, and important skills for any future jobs or income-raising endeavors. Especially for those who likely won’t finish their education or go on for further schooling.

So I’m hoping this project will work out, and that we’ll be able to locate the start-up funds needed to get us in production. And that I’ll suddenly pick up business skills from thin air since I have very little idea of what I’m doing as regards things related to marketing and finances. I figure it can’t be too hard, and if I need help, that’s what other PCVs and professionals are for. And it’s something I feel I have at least a small grasp on, something I am motivated and excited to do for a change. Maybe it’s the support of another PCV that has made me feel more secure about it, but either way I’m itching to get it up and running. Anyone with advice or business tidbits, feel free to pipe in anytime…

So that project, going on host family site visits, and hanging out with my amazing girls every day has had me excited and more content this week. Except for the occasional downers (let’s just say I’m glad it’s Friday…) I’m not doing too bad. Yesterday Zelda freaked out (again) and busted a window, gashing open her wrist, pouring blood, and resulting in another trip to the hospital. If the hospital gave out punch cards, I think Zelda would have a free check-up by now. So she came back with a piece of cardboard attached to her arm with gauze wrapped all around it and a homemade sling. Which she took off and unwrapped about once an hour today. There have been so many broken windows (and other assorted damaged property) in the Center, particularly in the last month or two, the guy who fixes things for us is on speed dial. Okay, so we don’t actually have speed dial, but you get the picture. He’s here a lot.

Sometimes with the more difficult girls taking so much attention I forget to say how much I love my kids. They’re just fantastic 98% of the time (the other 2% could be considered slightly postponed fantastic-ness). And they put up with me so well. The other day when I was helping one of the 8th graders with her homework—she had to list ten things under different categories, like civil construction occupations, areas of health care, etc.—, I convinced her to put Superman and magic carpets under modes of air transportation. I really wish I could have seen her teacher’s reaction. At least we found it hilarious. I try to leave my mark where I can.

2/8/07

I went for the second time today to Ribeira da Barca, the zone where the future youth development group will be placed in July, to meet with potential host families and draw a map of the community. Then Ilídio showed me the beach that is really no longer a beach because for over 5 years, people have increasingly been taking the sand from the beach at night (illegally) and selling it for various purposes, to provide an income where there was none. They saw a resource, didn’t think ahead to realize that it wasn’t limitless, and now have no beach. The fact that there is no visible sand left has not stopped them, though, and now apparently they go diving into the water to get the sand from the ocean floor. Doing this has wiped out a road that was previously there, so they had to create a new road, and the water continues to advance, presumably until it starts devouring houses. This is additionally aided by the fact that those who don’t dive for sand have started taking the rocks that now form the only border between ocean and homes. One by one, they carry large rocks on their heads to go sell or use in construction of houses, and the ocean gets increasingly infuriated, planning its inevitable attack. I told Ilídio that soon enough the ocean would get mad and start eating the town up, people and all. He laughed and grimly replied, “You’re right, it’s pretty awful.” Not only is it awful that they haven’t looked into the future to the day when no more rocks and sand exist, but it’s awful that they haven’t found any other way to raise income. Or that no truly sustainable natural resource is found here on the islands, at least not anything substantial enough to truly lift the entire population out of poverty. But the frustrating part is that there are things they can do, other alternatives than tearing the land apart, one piece at a time until no island is left. Someone needs to come in and start inspiring some income-generating projects to provide another option. I told Ilídio we need to put a Volunteer there. Aguido agreed. But why does it take bringing a foreigner in to start these projects and foster these ideas? Frustrating.

On the way back, we took a pimped-out hiace with a DVD player that plays cheesy Cape Verdean and African music videos on repeat. Such luxury. Those fortunate enough to ride in the hiace with built-in entertainment receive the endless pleasure of heinous 80s-style clips that the other passengers can’t peel their eyes from. Any Volunteer in this country knows the ridiculousness that I’m referring to, one that until this day has no equal. Every clip is filled with the tackiest love scenes you can imagine, ripped straight from the influence of Brazilian novellas, usually with a Jeri-curled Guido in tight white jeans looking pensively into the distance after having a wicked fight with his big-bootied girlfriend who is left sitting at a restaurant table by herself, wondering what went wrong. As he remains pensive, he sees flashbacks of him and the girl playing on the beach, rolling around in the sand, taking a shower together, or strolling down the road eating ice cream. Then usually visions of him dancing alone (and rather stupidly) on a platform or boardwalk will cut through and we see just how truly sexy he is. It’s a sight to be seen. And on this day, I got to see a particularly entertaining clip of this popular one-legged African “thug” dancing around with his one crutch, shaking his hips and yelling “Mother f***er, shut the f*** up”. I really have never seen anything like it in my life. I wondered if that was the only phrase he knew in English, or if he knew what it meant. He was trying to be so tough, hopping around on the one leg, humping the ground, and proving that he still had “it” despite the missing appendage. It’s continually amazing what passes as a truly talented artist in this region. Hey, I’m glad he could fight through whatever awful experience left him with one leg and become a probably successful musician that can produce a decent beat to tap your finger to, but can we please work on improving our lyrics? It’s just so in your face when it doesn’t need to be. It seems very contrived to me, but what do I know?

2/11/07

I’m pretty sure there’s not much I want to say today. At least not that I can think of right now. Mel’s parents are in town visiting from the US for a week. The whole time they’ve been here it has made me anxious for my family to come visit. I’m so jealous! She gets to take them around town, show them her work, show off speaking Criolu to people, etc. etc. I can’t wait for people to come see me!! There’s something different about seeing a place for yourself, something that can’t be transmitted through photos and blogs. Sometimes you just have to feel it, see it happening in front of you to understand at least a tiny part of that person’s experience. I want to teach my family little phrases in Criolu so they can try them out with people, feel like they’re at least trying to communicate. I want to show them the Center, have them meet the girls, who have all seen their pictures. I’m so anxious, I don’t know how I’ll be able to wait all these months…although admittedly it may be a bit of a problem work-wise since they all want to come separately around the same time. That means over a month of visitors, which means not a lot of attention paid to work. I’ll just have to work extra hard in the months before they come. But then there’s PST…dang, so much going on!

Speaking of missing work, I bought my ticket to go to Mindelo, São Vicente for Carnaval, which is the same time as Mardi Gras in the States, the day before Ash Wednesday. So I’ll be taking almost a week to hang out with all the PCVs that will be coming from other islands to Mindelo, where the real party’s at, apparently. I wasn’t going to do it, since I just went to Sal and Boavista, and I didn’t want to miss out on any more work. But then I mentioned it to Andreia, and she was like “Go!! Take advantage of it, if I could go I would.” So since they’re so supportive, I decided I could take a little break. But I do want to make sure I’m working extra hard to make up for the time lost. I want to get the proposal for the income-raising project done before I go so I won’t feel guilty.

* * *

Quick funny story: I’ve been working on making little kits for the girls with the donations we received, so that all the girls will receive the same amount of clothes, hair combs, toys, etc. (We are marking a day to distribute them with a little party, explaining where they came from, how to be respectful when a gift is given, etc.) Well the other day when I was doing just this, Zelda ran into the room (as she often does), saw all the clothes, grabbed a pair of shorts and ran off with them. Andreia gave me a “look” and asked if I could go try to get them back from her. So I ran upstairs to follow her, and found her already stripped of clothing, pulling on the shorts that were very much too small for her. She looked at me pleadingly, begging “Tia, give me the shorts. Pleeeeease! I don’t have any shorts”. Didn’t seem to notice that they didn’t fit her in the slightest. I gave her a firm no and told her to take the shorts off immediately. I told her if she kept asking for things (which she has done pretty much every day since she found out there were boxes of foreign goods waiting in the office) and couldn’t wait until we gave them out to all the girls she wouldn’t get anything. She kept begging, I kept insisting she take them off, and finally I won. She sloooooowly took them off, and the second they were in her hand I grabbed them and told her to put her clothes back on. Instead, she decided it was time to run downstairs in her underwear, running like crazy around the Center, in front of the front door, where everyone and anyone who cared to see could enjoy the show. The monitoras, all laughing, ran after her, telling her to go back upstairs and put her clothes on. Eventually she did. Anyway, it was quite the sight to be seen, you couldn’t help but just laugh. Lately her actions are so completely unpredictable, it’s hard to say what will happen next. But at least at those times when she’s not putting herself and others in danger, it keeps us entertained. Pretty much every hour of every day since, Zelda has asked me to give her the shorts. She just wants things to be given to her, regardless of what it is. Mel’s mom came by the Center to meet the girls, and had picked up a rock outside that she liked (she collects rocks); Zelda saw the rock and asked her to give it to her. A rock. Completely useless to the girl, but she had to have it. So now she has a rock, probably sitting somewhere in her room. You just have to laugh.

* * *

Yesterday I went with Ivete (my counterpart) to a palestra (a small session on a particular topic) she was giving about violence and abuse against children and adolescents to a group of teachers in the ribeira (a more rural area of the island). Watching her speak just reminded me of how lucky I am to have such a bad-ass counterpart, someone who is everything you want and need in a counterpart. She just has such a passion for helping children and proves an excellent advocate for disadvantaged youth and troubled family situations. She has a way of inspiring you with her simple, informed, and compelling way of communicating information. She knows what she’s talking about, has a lot of experience, and knows how to talk to people, all kinds of people. I have complete confidence that she could walk into the government building one day and speak to the President with complete grace, confidence, conviction, and respect, and that same day go out to the fora, the rural areas, and speak kindly and humbly to an impoverished illiterate Cape Verdean grandmother and be able to completely capture her attention and respect. She’s an excellent person to work with, because she gets things done, knows what’s important, yet can be so casual that you feel like you’re great friends who go shopping together on the weekends. Overall, a great ally to have at ICCA, because she will help me to get some of my projects and things done—and she’s Cape VerdeanJ. Anyway, just had to share that nice moment, because it’s those nice moments that keep me here and happy and inspired to do what I’m doing. Of course in that same palestra, two of the Cape Verdeans mentioned their distain for white foreign influence and afterwards came up to me and said “American, eh? How about George Bush and his war with Iraq?” Not my favorite thing to hear as the first words coming out of someone’s mouth. So working in a foreign country is give and take.

* * *

One last thing. I have today, my first day of true rest with gloriously nothing to do, discovered a new cardio workout that doesn't involve running (which, unfortunately after a few months of trying, has not become a new passion of mine. I still hate it.). This simplistic workout involves only turning on the salsa music and going to town alone in my room. Dancing with complete reckless abandon and pure joy. Dancing however I want, however poorly, with however little coordination finds itself moving through my fingertips. And I like it. It is exciting, releasing, and completely mine. My secret only I know about and can take part in. And that gets my heart pumping, blood coursing through me, stress pushed out of me in quick breaths. And so I'll keep doing it, whenever I feel like it.

A spot on the new hiking trail

A spot on the new hiking trail, originally uploaded by courtdog88.

They just opened up these trails in December, and the one we took led out to the botanical gardens in São Jorge. Neato.

Boys swimming in Fonte Gazela

Boys swimming in Fonte Gazela, originally uploaded by courtdog88.

Again, see title.

hiking to Rui Vaz

hiking to Rui Vaz, originally uploaded by courtdog88.

The title pretty much explains this one.

Siiiiingin in the rain...

1/30/07-1/31/07

Finally, a day to lift my spirits. I woke this morning to the long-lost and glorious scent of freshly fallen rain. I left my house for work and was almost knocked over by the crispness of the air and its immediate grasp on me, handing me proof of the previous night’s surprise visitor. So strange how powerful one little smell can be, sending me back home for a brief time, right when I wanted it the most. It smelled like Seattle, like all the miserable months of rain that suddenly became precious and desirable. Even the sight of the wet ground and the mud on my shoes felt familiar. So I spent a few minutes reveling in how wonderful my city really is, feeling it cling to me, entering through my nostrils and coursing through my veins. The Northwest really is a part of who I am, the part that will never go away. Despite how much I complain about it and celebrate the ceaseless sun of Cape Verde that brings me to the beach in December. There’s still the secret part of me that likes to walk outside and feel the cleanness of the air, like a new beginning. And then curl up with a book and hot cocoa inside with the sound of the rain on the pavement outside. Sounds perfect right about now.

This morning I went for the second time with one of my CEJ colleagues to start making visits to potential host families for the new group of Peace Corps Trainees that will be coming in July. I think I mentioned before that we will be doing training here in Assomada, which means those of us who live here will be busily helping make the program run smoothly, orienting newbies to Cape Verde, and finally being “the experienced ones”. They have switched to a Community Based Training model where the PCTs will split off and live in groups of 3-5 in eight small communities surrounding Assomada. Instead of all being relatively close together as we were in São Domingos, they will be chunked off, only seeing each other for group sessions (i.e. medical, safety/security, etc.) when they all come in to Assomada. So Ilidio and I went today to meet more families from a zone called Mancholy. It was a pretty fun morning, getting to see things from the other perspective, seeing what it takes to organize things for the volunteers before they get here. I got to explain what it’s like to come in as a foreigner knowing no language, knowing very little about the culture, etc. and explain some of the difficulties people often have. Now that I speak Criolu (today was an excellent language day for me, I felt so comfortable and nearly fluent, understanding and communicating everything! Which means tomorrow I’ll probably stumble over every phrase), the families all wanted to take me in as their own. Ha! I told them I’d come back to visit, but that I’d already done the drill, hence now being an apparent master at all things badiu. It’s interesting to see all the different attitudes people have about potentially hosting a foreigner in their home. Many are very eager, wanting badly to show you how well they will treat their American and how clean their house is, offering you coffee and catxupa. Others that we approached as prospects in the community were confused and wary, not sure why someone was coming to ask them to receive and cater to a strange person who would come to live with them for 2-ish months. If nothing else, for the most part people were intrigued. The hardest part is often finding families with conditions to receive a PCT (i.e. toilet, spare room, electricity, water), according to Peace Corps standards. In any case I am sure most trainees coming in will be getting much more than they probably expected signing up for Peace Corps Africa. I’m starting to get really excited for the new group to come!

Oh, and I saw a 102-year-old man today that lives in Mancholy. 102! How’s that for life expectancy here in Cape Verde? He was alive and kicking, only the eyesight gone. So sweet and polite, the picture of respectful aging, and they were so proud of him there in Mancholy, my new favorite zone. I kinda wanted to stay there. I could just commute to Assomada…

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The afternoon brought me back to reality, though it wasn’t necessarily all bad. Things have been tense in the Center lately, particularly with the two “problem girls”, Zelda and Aracy. And today, another girl, who happens to have a very rough history and aggressive tendencies that have massively improved since she’s been here, brought a fight to the Center’s doorstep—literally. She’s pretty good at bringing people to their boiling point, and had done so with a group of girls, who hit her, starting a fight that brought half the high school to the Center, where she was pacing around barefoot, daring the girls to come fight her. Upon all the commotion, Aracy decided it was her turn to call attention and started screaming and tried to run outside, requiring three employees to grab her and pull her back in, nearly tearing the shirt right off of her. It was quite the scene, with—again—half the high school watching, once more associating the ICCA Center with crazy misbehaved deviants. The poor girls coming home from school trudged in with expressions of embarrassment as their friends watched and presumably wondered why they had to call this place their home. It’s so frustrating, because everyone in proximity to the Center has a terrible image of the girls and of what goes on inside. So much noise, fighting, and commotion every day, with virtually no understanding of why it is that way, what shitty lives the girls have had that has brought them to this point. Last week Ivete told us that one of the neighbors has begun to complain and recently started threatening to take action to get the Center closed down. Shit. As much as the Center has its issues and could use improvement, it’s pretty much brand new, needs time to make things better, and what the hell are the girls going to do if it doesn’t exist??

Admittedly, though, things need to change fast. The mães and monitoras aren’t happy there, are completely unmotivated not only because it’s a tough job and many of them don’t have much interest in doing it in the first place, but because there are so few of them to do the job of many. They’re exhausted, and even the most dedicated ones are frustrated much of the time. The thing is, the girls have learned to take advantage of situations: if either Zelda or Aracy gets riled up and starts yelling, fighting, or jumping out of windows, the other one does the same, and then the other girls take note and start joining in or starting fights of their own to get attention. Zelda and Aracy have started pairing up, like a small team of destruction. One will have the idea to run away and the other will follow. They’re jumping out of the windows multiple times a day and roaming free through the streets, partly because no one is watching them, or if they do, they don’t go after them or tell anyone about it. Last week, Zelda climbed out the window, ran to Ercilia’s house (which she does often), then an hour or so later climbed out the window again, got on a hiace (public transportation) and went to Praia. We received a phone call that afternoon saying that she was at an ICCA Center in Praia, the first we’d even heard about her being gone. The most frustrating part of it all is that Praia knew before we did, since no one cared enough to tell us she was missing. Any number of awful and unthinkable things could have happened between the Center here and the hour-long trip to Praia. Craziness. This finally caused Andreia to yell at everyone, telling them it was their job by definition to watch and take care of these girls, protecting them from the streets and making sure they have things to do during the day. She admitted it wasn’t desirable for these two girls with significant mental difficulties to be here in the Center, but since we have no other choice at the moment, it’s our responsibility to care for them as our own, and if they don’t want to do that or don’t have interest in caring for children, particularly of this nature, then they should find another job. Simple as that. And if it continues, they might all be out of jobs for awhile, or so goes the threat.

The search has continued these past few weeks to find a place for Zelda to stay, some family member that has conditions or resources to take her in. Most don’t, and those who do tell us they don’t want to take her in because she has mental illness, which comes from evil spirits, which cannot be brought into their house cursing their family. A touch of the animist traditional that is still often clung to, even in the “big city”. So for now she has to stay, and as much as we care about her, it’s frustrating. Today she and Aracy fought—again—(this time it was Aracy’s turn to start with the perturbation), nails, fists and all. And guess who was in the middle of it all—me. Again. Generally I’m there grabbing an arm, helping hold a girl back, etc. but today it was practically just me. Everyone else was either eating lunch or laughing at the scene being made, so it was me pushing them apart and getting clawed in the process. Others eventually helped, but the madness continued for the rest of the afternoon. And of course the rest of the girls, hearing a fight, came running to watch the spectacle, like it was a circus show, egging them on and then starting their own fights to get attention. Like a vicious cycle. It’s enough to drive you crazy. We’re all quickly reaching our limit.

On the bright side, the secretary and I registered all the donations today so that if anyone goes through and steals something, we’ll know what’s missing. It’s sometimes alarming how little trust exists in the Center.