Outkast is everlaaastin'...

I have to take a short break from work to write about my elatedness at this moment, the moment when a Peace Corps Volunteer truly feels her role being done as it “should” look. I have been trying to elicit help from the youth volunteers at the CEJ to come help out at the girls’ Center, seeking to create interest in Cape Verdeans to volunteer in areas of most need, and making connections between all these different pockets of youth in all these different institutions. So two weeks ago I announced at the CEJ that I was organizing a group of whoever was interested to come and help, primarily with studies, at the ICCA Center. I immediately got a list of people with their contacts who wanted to help. Awesome. I tried to follow up and call people, and after weeding out all the bad phone numbers, we got about 4-5 available youth and the participation of the Red Cross youth (which has a core of 64 volunteers), which is just the small start we need. I have since been contacting the local President of the Red Cross to start establishing connections, planning exchanges, seeing how we can get people involved in helping the girls, reducing the stigma in the community, etc. etc. Today, finally, we sat down with Andreia and talked concretely about options for volunteering, for planning joint workshops/life skills sessions, and for doing cultural afternoons (with dance, theater, music, etc.) together. Three excellent girls involved in the CEJ showed up, and I sat back and watched as a wonderful connection was made between the people present, talking about the needs in the Center and how each one could contribute. In actuality I participated very little in the meeting and instead threw my input and support in where needed, which is as it should have been. It just felt good seeing people’s willingness to help come together with specific needs and me having such a little part in it. All it took was me asking and making a few phone calls, and people stepped up. Just when I start to lose faith in Cape Verdeans, I get proved wrong, thank goodness. And it turns out to be very good that we only have a few individuals to start off with because there are so many structural issues to be worked out within the Center and so many problems with the staff that we don’t want them to be turned away from volunteering and turn everyone else away as well. This way we can experiment with the addition of a few new youth volunteers from the community, see how they integrate, how the staff responds, how the girls react, etc. before we start to elicit more help. Because now I know the help is out there. There are willing people, which is good to know. So today, this morning, was a good experience, a good feeling to see your role as the nearly-invisible facilitator, just bringing people together and doing little else. So yay.

I guess all the screaming I was talking about before finally paid off and someone heard.

As another note, I have officially begun giving English classes at the CEJ, even though I didn’t really want to originally. I figure it will help give me experience for the future, knowing what it is like to teach language and being able to do it elsewhere. So even though it takes up time I could be using to do other things, I have about 9-12 people each session (I do two a week, so about 20 youth) who come to hear what Teacher has to offer so they can learn to talk to tourists and go study outside of the country. The first lesson when we talked about why people wanted to learn English, I ended up imploring them to come back to Cape Verde instead of just getting educated and staying abroad, which is what a large part of the population ends up doing. Teacher has very definite objectives for her English class, and has a hard time keeping her opinions out of discussions. Teacher needs to work on that. P.S. Teacher is my new name since they can’t say my real name. Teacher also has two classes each full of males, one girl per class. Teacher wonders if the participation includes a small factor of male interest in the new white foreign girl. Hmm…

One last thing. We took the first group of girls to Tarrafal last Sunday, and had a wonderful time. Even though the mães forgot to bring balls and toys to play with, we buried each other in sand, played in the water, hunted for sea creatures, and ate lunch and snack, a truly complete day at the beach. Here are some pictures from the experience:

This girl, Patrícia is soooo adorable. She was cleaning the sand off my feet for me:)

Haha, we filled her suit with sand so she'd look pregnant. When you don't have things to make sandcastles, you get creative...
We borrowed a ball from local boys for a bit.

We will be taking the second group this coming Sunday, I’ll post pictures of that later. Aaaaand, I get to stay in Tarrafal because IST is finally arriving! Woohoo, finally we get to spend a week with all the Volunteers, sharing stories, having fun, bitching about Peace Corps, etc. etc. We are staying in these cute little bungalows right on the beach and much fun will be had, I am sure. I am also sure there will be plenty of pictures to show from that as well. But for now, I should get back to work…no more slacking off…

I give

I'm tired. Tired of banging my head against the wall. Tired of screaming at the top of my lungs for no one to hear. Tired of fighting the battle alone. Plunging, ripping through shreds of familiarity, of sanity just to find the bottom. Just to crash into what must be the ever-approaching canyon floor. No parachute, you stop expecting it. No big hand to pull you out, just pitying faces that say they appreciate you and your "work". And say they want to help, that you're doing important things. I'm tired of trying to convince people, of being the ultimate advocate, of speaking for millions, of trying so hard just to get one understanding soul. And you realize why everyone quits, why they throw in the hat. You see why everyone avoids, why only the bravest survive. And you want to be one of those, but you doubt, you wonder how you'll make it. Because it's so exhausting, and YOU don't even know. You who are out there. I know this because I don't even know. Don't even know what to ask for. Support? Love? Encouragement? Extra hands, bodies, available people? Things become so hard to articulate when you have been screaming for so long. When the anxiety and stress has tried every form until your body is beaten and it looks for other ways, thirsts for conquest, and you are left its unwilling slave. So I'll choke down the tears one more time and rest my voice for tomorrow's screaming. Because eventually someone will hear and prove their true interest. Eventually someone will stay, someone will be here with me, alongside me. Because I'm lonely.

I won't be silent like you...

3/10/07

Today is a day when life doesn’t fit into a blog. Some days it’s hard to track from minute to minute what you are feeling, sometimes it changes that often. And sometimes it’s just that difficult to define. For a list of occurrences over the past week: a new PCV came from Guinea and has been shadowing me and Mel at work, we had a Rocky party where there was lots of greasy food and a viewing of the first 4 Rocky films, Andreia got so stressed out at work that she left and has stayed home the last few days (don’t know when she’ll come back), Zelda has officially gone to live with her family in Praia so we all said goodbye yesterday, my expensive useful surge protector busted in a literal cloud of smoke (scary), I broke down in a fit of tears over job stress in front of Mel (about 6 months worth all built up), I decided to stop going to Picos to the boys’ Center once a week to cut down on said job stress, the president of ICCA asked me to translate a 38-page UN document to be sent to New York with only 1.5 days warning, I was put on steroids for my ever-developing asthma, I signed up almost 30 people for my English classes at the CEJ (yikes!), I got a decent-sized group of youth interested in coming to help volunteer at the girls’ Center, and two of the CEJ girls said they’d pay for my gym membership if it meant I would start working out and stop gaining weight. Apparently when it comes to appearances, it really doesn’t matter who has come into whose country to provide assistance—I will soon be receiving charity for the purposes of superficiality. Thank goodness for it too, my life has become annoyingly sedentary, I write as I sit in front of my computer. Hmph.

I’m really not in the mood to go into too many more details about the week, other than to say it was exhausting, exhilarating, and productive all at the same time. From one of my lowest moments to some of my highest, this week has somehow managed to get a decent amount of things accomplished. It has also been nice having Alex (the new PCV Transfer) around with me at work, because even though she doesn’t speak the language and I have to make sure I’m explaining everything to her, it’s nice to finally have someone there who is seeing what it’s really like every day, what kinds of things are dealt with. I enjoyed having someone to talk to about the situations I’m dealing with and what the frustrations are, and with someone who speaks my language and has a certain amount of interest in the topic. It’s like a small piece of validation, someone finally noticing that my job is TOUGH. I’m not trying to say I’m a saint or a miracle-worker, or that I am somehow better than other PCVs who may do more tangible projects than me, but God the stress there from minute to minute is enough to make you wonder how anything gets done and how you maintain your sanity some days. Anyhow, the whole point was supposed to be for me to convince Alex how wonderful youth development is and how really she should work in an ICCA Center like she’s secretly always wanted to, but ultimately it seems she will be working out amongst the trees in environmental education in São Nicolau. I guess 38 screaming needy girls may have scared her away. She’s very sweet and fun though, so we in Assomada are glad to welcome her into the Peace Corps Cape Verde family.

As I said, the steps needed to reintegrate Zelda with her family were completed this week, as we took her to Trindade on Thursday and got the psychiatrist’s final okay, got her family prepared, and she was driven home yesterday. It was quite a surreal feeling, and though we’ve been working towards it for so long, it seemed to all happen so fast. Zelda was very happy to be going home, and many of the girls were also pretty pleased, and so I wondered what the goodbye would look like. It turns out some of the mães and girls cried, harder to send her off than they thought. It was the first time since I’ve been here that I’ve seen Aracy cry. She spent the majority of her time alongside Zelda, the two “special” girls locked up in the Center all day with no school, no activities, no nothing. And so Aracy lost a good friend—and not only that, but she longs so badly to go back home to Fogo and instead of getting to go she watched someone else get to be with their family. So it was sad to watch her suffer, even though she’s been calmer the last few days. We were supposed to take a trip to Tarrafal (the beach) with the girls this weekend, but they cancelled it because this last week has been so exhausting for everyone. I hate letting the girls down. So that was the week at the Center.

I don’t feel much for analysis or deep thought at the moment, so I’ll leave it short this time. I’m exhausted. And I’m still working on the translation, which still has 20-ish pages to go. So ciao for now.

3/12/07

Finally the massive translation is done and I can go home to rest. Yesterday Alex and I had a "translation party" which was more fun that it sounds. We set up shop in the kitchen and got to work, taking frequent breaks to make egg salad sandwiches, talk about life, and then make homemade granola, which turned out soooo yummy! We made it with honey, oats, raisins, peanuts, cinnamon, vanilla, and other wonderful things. Trust me, it was like heaven straight from the oven, you should be jealous.

And so that is pretty much all I have to say about the last two days. Hope it was worth the added 30 seconds of blog-reading. Til next time.

You

This is something I wrote a few weeks ago. Enjoy.
***

I remember the day You came to me and said You would walk alongside me. I couldn’t tell if the feeling was fact or fiction, fabricated, hallucinated, or the truest thing I’d felt in my life. Whatever its authenticity it swept me up without a backward glance. So many others had felt the same thing, I knew I must have embraced the fortune to stumble upon what we privileged few called the unfounded and undeniable omniscient presence. I floated my life along this serene and unruffled current, the reassurance of surety, of stability, acting as my buoy and teaching me to trust. Such simplicity, such blessed ignorance that proved to fortify the walls of protection the world, perhaps You, had built around me. Never allowing myself to doubt, I reveled in the splendor of a somehow superior recognition of spirit, a spirit I of course manufactured. Or maybe the world before me can be blamed, but I let it take its hollow form in my life. Thinking that this thing I called Your presence, Your accompaniment was all I ever needed. Never mind the nagging suspicion that it was somehow counterfeit, that I was merely a pawn in this giant game of chess You commandeered with Your grandiose hands.

Well somehow I then told myself I succeeded in knocking over this board on which You had previously controlled my life. I remember this day as well. Of course I am probably fooling myself to think I exerted such strength, really a fool to think anything definitively. But from that moment until now I have proudly borne the scepter and crown of unhindered and exceptional tolerance, which must somehow be better because of its inclusivity. Because it is welcoming rather than condemning and because it allows me to choose from the barrel of ideas what I like and what suits me best. And so I have clothed myself in everything, Joseph’s Technicolor dream coat, or something of the like. And it feels good, better even, though perhaps You may hate me for thinking so. Its utopia bubbles within me largely because I myself have defined its existence, molded its shape with my own weathered hands, which makes it mine and allows me to secretly claim a pinch of Your omnipotence, all-powerful supremacy in my very grasp.

The problem then has become that all-powerful supremacy is quite lonely it seems. Back when You walked with me, carried me even, the simplistic paper-thin appearance of comfort was better than the weight of carrying the world on my shoulders and walking alone. Each step heavier than the last and reminding me why it was simpler to grant You sovereignty. At least with You wearing the crown I could fondly caress the memory of running through meadows with the grace and freedom of a childhood never aging, never gaining the days that come with what we seem to think is wisdom. Without the responsibility of perpetual guilt one needn’t worry about how hard the soles of one’s feet will land upon the once-trodden earth. One need only worry about the language of glorious entrapment, of celebrated slavery to something professed to be greater than oneself. The language that becomes natural to us, the motor that propels us forward in existence, not a second thought given.

Only I’m not ready to speak the language once again. The words exit as sharp as a dagger heading towards my barely-healed heart once scarred by the memories of each word’s separate jab. So if You don’t mind, I’ll continue to look for that feeling of completion, of accompaniment elsewhere, until all the aids at my disposal show themselves barren and I am left wandering in the desert. In Your mind I am sure that is the inevitable end, though I’m not yet convinced. I’ll have to trudge through on my own, unguided and stubborn. And if indeed the board remains intact and Your hands braced for their next move, I’ll have no say in the matter and things will end up perhaps as they should. But grant me only the eternity of believing that I made it so, that I made the pond ripple with presumptuous excellence that I’ll claim we all secretly long for. And if this cannot be granted, leave me with the humble understanding that while the trust I was taught in the beginning isn’t as simple as it seemed, it is not always fruitful to trust merely in oneself. At some point we must admit how little we know and how truly out of reach the answers really lie. Though my fingertips will continue to stretch and stretch up into the sky…

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.