1/7/2009
I love my village. I am always happy to come home.
Kossia’s third child, Donné, who is now 4 months old seems taken with me. Every time he sees me, he smiles a dimpled grin. It is a wonder – a gift from him to me. So, I decided to take some video of him.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Retarded Creativity
1/7/2009
There’s this prevailing sense of dread these days, totally work related. I was sitting in the only functioning classroom of my middle school today (the other classrooms burned down during New Years. It was an accident, a story for another time.) noting the muscles in my neck and shoulders twist with tension upon the realization that yet again no students were showing up for my study skills club. This after a potential, although not yet confirmed, second failed attempt to organize a volunteer soccer tournament in my region, the impending pipedream of actually seeing my fellow villagers come through for me on their promised Moringa training sessions, and lest I forget I may have offended my Primary School Director who is already covertly uninterested in helping or even supporting my work. I could go into other damaged relationships in my life, as there seem to be many of late, but I will spare you.
I suppose I was fortunate enough to have my girls show up for the Girls Club today. But unfortunately, as the saying goes: when it rains, it pours. Two full sessions of discussion finished, examples displayed and explained, handouts distributed, instructions communicated and an enthusiastic response received – would you say I’d covered most of my bases with the students? Their task was simple enough, or so I assumed, silly me, write their own fairy tale. We are in our Creative Writing sessions and I researched and typed up all kinds of information – definitions and explanations of basic fairy tale concepts as basic as what is “fiction” and “imagination”. I brought in books from the library with pictures! They even shared an example with me of a tale from their culture. So the assigned exercise for this section was to go home with their handouts and notes and examples fresh in their mind and write their own tale of magical characters and harrowing adventures.
If ever you wanted an example of how creatively challenged these kids are, today’s results should be enlightening. The girls presented their stories today by standing in front and reading aloud. Out of 22 girls present, four or five didn’t do the assignment which was fine as it was voluntary, only about four girls wrote original tales and the rest copied out of two books I saw floating around the classroom prior to the session. There were even a few girls that had copied the same story. I believe this sort of thing is called plagiarism and looked down upon. When the same story first appeared twice, I told them the only person they were hurting was themselves. There was no need to cheat since the club is for fun; there are no grades and no exams. About half way through the presentations, I saw the books and realized what had happened much to my disappointment. I started second guessing what I had done. Was I not clear on the exercise? What could I have done differently? At the end of the presentations, I confronted them. I told them I wasn’t angry; I was sad because this was an opportunity to share a piece of themselves with us, a gift of their spirit, to show us how special and unique they are. I reiterated what I said before on how copying does nothing for them. It doesn’t exercise their mind or imagination, and therefore, they make no progress, no improvement. I also emphasized the fact that the club is for them and if something is boring or uninteresting, they can tell me and I will make modifications. I’m flexible; I’m here for them and that the club is totally voluntary.
When I saw their faces light up when I showed them the examples I had brought from the library, I thought, “ok, they’re into it.” Today’s meeting once again reinforces, for me, how creative thought and critical thinking and risk taking are simply not supported here in the way they are chez moi. My next session is on Autobiographies. Let’s hope they don’t plagiarize their own lives.
Update as of 1/25/2009: The Soccer Tournament was canceled again and will not be rescheduled, at least, not by me. I couldn’t find enough players. The Moringa training sessions are going a little rough, but they’re coming along. I usually end up taking over at some point during the presentations. The real test will be the second training in May/June.
There’s this prevailing sense of dread these days, totally work related. I was sitting in the only functioning classroom of my middle school today (the other classrooms burned down during New Years. It was an accident, a story for another time.) noting the muscles in my neck and shoulders twist with tension upon the realization that yet again no students were showing up for my study skills club. This after a potential, although not yet confirmed, second failed attempt to organize a volunteer soccer tournament in my region, the impending pipedream of actually seeing my fellow villagers come through for me on their promised Moringa training sessions, and lest I forget I may have offended my Primary School Director who is already covertly uninterested in helping or even supporting my work. I could go into other damaged relationships in my life, as there seem to be many of late, but I will spare you.
I suppose I was fortunate enough to have my girls show up for the Girls Club today. But unfortunately, as the saying goes: when it rains, it pours. Two full sessions of discussion finished, examples displayed and explained, handouts distributed, instructions communicated and an enthusiastic response received – would you say I’d covered most of my bases with the students? Their task was simple enough, or so I assumed, silly me, write their own fairy tale. We are in our Creative Writing sessions and I researched and typed up all kinds of information – definitions and explanations of basic fairy tale concepts as basic as what is “fiction” and “imagination”. I brought in books from the library with pictures! They even shared an example with me of a tale from their culture. So the assigned exercise for this section was to go home with their handouts and notes and examples fresh in their mind and write their own tale of magical characters and harrowing adventures.
If ever you wanted an example of how creatively challenged these kids are, today’s results should be enlightening. The girls presented their stories today by standing in front and reading aloud. Out of 22 girls present, four or five didn’t do the assignment which was fine as it was voluntary, only about four girls wrote original tales and the rest copied out of two books I saw floating around the classroom prior to the session. There were even a few girls that had copied the same story. I believe this sort of thing is called plagiarism and looked down upon. When the same story first appeared twice, I told them the only person they were hurting was themselves. There was no need to cheat since the club is for fun; there are no grades and no exams. About half way through the presentations, I saw the books and realized what had happened much to my disappointment. I started second guessing what I had done. Was I not clear on the exercise? What could I have done differently? At the end of the presentations, I confronted them. I told them I wasn’t angry; I was sad because this was an opportunity to share a piece of themselves with us, a gift of their spirit, to show us how special and unique they are. I reiterated what I said before on how copying does nothing for them. It doesn’t exercise their mind or imagination, and therefore, they make no progress, no improvement. I also emphasized the fact that the club is for them and if something is boring or uninteresting, they can tell me and I will make modifications. I’m flexible; I’m here for them and that the club is totally voluntary.
When I saw their faces light up when I showed them the examples I had brought from the library, I thought, “ok, they’re into it.” Today’s meeting once again reinforces, for me, how creative thought and critical thinking and risk taking are simply not supported here in the way they are chez moi. My next session is on Autobiographies. Let’s hope they don’t plagiarize their own lives.
Update as of 1/25/2009: The Soccer Tournament was canceled again and will not be rescheduled, at least, not by me. I couldn’t find enough players. The Moringa training sessions are going a little rough, but they’re coming along. I usually end up taking over at some point during the presentations. The real test will be the second training in May/June.
Frommage!
1/6/2009
Despite what you may have heard, people here love getting their picture taken, especially when there’s the instant gratification of digital cameras. I delight in the squeals of excitement and laughter I get when I can turn my camera around and show them their very own pixilated image so much so that I often throw my head back in laughter too. I romanticize the day when I can send my fellow villagers hard copies of these photos and they can continue to goggle at the wonderment of technology.
Despite what you may have heard, people here love getting their picture taken, especially when there’s the instant gratification of digital cameras. I delight in the squeals of excitement and laughter I get when I can turn my camera around and show them their very own pixilated image so much so that I often throw my head back in laughter too. I romanticize the day when I can send my fellow villagers hard copies of these photos and they can continue to goggle at the wonderment of technology.
The Beginning of the End
12/30/2008
I am more excited to welcome this New Year’s celebration than any other in resent memory. It marks a milestone for me, one I’ve waited for in great anticipation. This January 1st will not simply be another party and all its spoils it will be the light at the end of the tunnel. And now, I get to savor these moments since their demise is imminent and make them all that more precious.
I am more excited to welcome this New Year’s celebration than any other in resent memory. It marks a milestone for me, one I’ve waited for in great anticipation. This January 1st will not simply be another party and all its spoils it will be the light at the end of the tunnel. And now, I get to savor these moments since their demise is imminent and make them all that more precious.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
The Questions Game
12/13/2008
I’ve hit a writer’s block, not for lack of material but rather how to express it. Shall I discuss the wonders of the Moringa tree? Or perhaps, why I’ve begun to hate fowl? Would you like me to capture the beauties of dusk in my village? May I rant upon the atrocities of bureaucracy or the futilities of modern-day development work? Would you mind terribly if I gloat about how I have the best latrine in Peace Corps Togo? Do you want to hear how I went to my village market yesterday and within 30 seconds of entering was harassed about buying some woman baby clothes or some man saying, “blah blah marriage blah blah” (those are the days that put me in a nasty mood!)? Are you interested in the massive brush fire I witnessed last night from my courtyard and how I visited the snowy ruins today? May I expound on poverty and what that means exactly because there seems to be a discrepancy?
Every time I try to begin, I end up scratching out my remarks in disgust, in embarrassment. Maybe it has something to do with my fear of committing these words to digital permanency, but whatever ails me and retards my ability to express myself, I will try to do better in the future. It is part of my job.
I am no writer.
I’ve hit a writer’s block, not for lack of material but rather how to express it. Shall I discuss the wonders of the Moringa tree? Or perhaps, why I’ve begun to hate fowl? Would you like me to capture the beauties of dusk in my village? May I rant upon the atrocities of bureaucracy or the futilities of modern-day development work? Would you mind terribly if I gloat about how I have the best latrine in Peace Corps Togo? Do you want to hear how I went to my village market yesterday and within 30 seconds of entering was harassed about buying some woman baby clothes or some man saying, “blah blah marriage blah blah” (those are the days that put me in a nasty mood!)? Are you interested in the massive brush fire I witnessed last night from my courtyard and how I visited the snowy ruins today? May I expound on poverty and what that means exactly because there seems to be a discrepancy?
Every time I try to begin, I end up scratching out my remarks in disgust, in embarrassment. Maybe it has something to do with my fear of committing these words to digital permanency, but whatever ails me and retards my ability to express myself, I will try to do better in the future. It is part of my job.
I am no writer.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Alternative Preoccupations
12/8/2008
Much has happened in these last two months since I’ve been back. Busy, busy, busy. Despite all the opportunities to share my tasty tidbits and juicy African anecdotes, my desire to write has only waned.
My most startling observation is my feelings in relation to home, America. My first year here was plagued by the desire of home, enticing familiarity. I felt as though I kept looking back, over my shoulder and across the world. Whereas now, I am, at least, facing forward and seeing my world with more appreciative eyes, no longer blurred with tears of homesickness. Two years, believe it or not, probably not if you‘re a new volunteer, goes quite fast and I was fearful that it would be over before I could rid myself of preoccupations and enjoy it. So presently, I am not particularly interested in returning physically or mentally back to America, which is why I haven’t written in so long. My apologies; I am still alive and well... for the most part.
October was AIDS Ride. A national event, but divided regionally, volunteers pumped lactic acid through their thighs and sweated heaping spoonfuls of salt all across Togo in an effort to educate the more rural villages about everything HIV and AIDS. It was a relief to come back and have a project waiting for me, especially one in which I was with a group of fellow volunteers and friends and all that was required of me was to pedal my little bike and show people how to put on a condom. I am quite skilled at the condom demonstration now.
I opted to skip Halloween this year. It’s very easy to bypass American holidays here. I felt obligated to feel sad about not celebrating All Hollow’s Eve, but I wasn’t. I chose to go to Lome to watch the election coverage instead. Nothing against Halloween, but watching Barack Obama give his acceptance speech as the first black president of the United States while I am sitting in Togo, West Africa… well, there’s no contest. It was quite possibly one of the best moments of my life, definitely the most historic. I still can’t really wrap my head around it.
I don’t think I have ever mentioned that I am the Chair of the 2008-2009 Gender and Development (GAD) Committee for Peace Corps Togo??? This is not prestigious; it is simply a position that I have filled. Every Peace Corps country has a GAD or Women in Development Committee. The idea is to promote and support gender-related projects. So currently, we fund the Karren Waid Scholarship Program, which sends qualifying Togolese girls to school beginning from middle school up to university, and we fund Leve-Toi Jeune Fille quarterly magazine. I wanted to start a small project fund for volunteers, so that I could recycle the money we earn from fundraising back to volunteers’ projects. All of our fundraising here is through Volunteers, so when the Administration told us in September that they were cancelling our biggest fundraiser, the All Volunteer Conference, our jaws dropped. Our second biggest fundraiser, Tour Du Togo, is a bike ride for volunteers from Cinkase (northern most city in Togo) to Lome (southern most city in Togo) was also postponed by the Administration for “security reasons” and it looks like it too will be canceled if we cannot find a compromise soon. Needless to say this year’s GAD Committee received a fundraising debacle on our laps, and I have spent the last month traveling to Lome, to Dapaong (other end of the country), to Atakpame (other end of the country) and then back to Lome, trying to get a handle on how we are going to move forward and support our current projects let alone any new ones. I will be honest; I would rather be in my village working with my Girl’s Club, Study Skills Club and prepping for my Moringa training session than dealing with politics and bureaucracy. But, my innate sense of responsibility kicks in and I do what needs to be done or what I think needs to be done.
On a lighter note, I have rescheduled my soccer tournament for the first weekend in February. I just need to make sure I have enough volunteers who want to play…
I am also excited to report my new found motivation for my second year here. I have all kinds of ideas for new projects and I have already started some of them. So wish me luck.
Happy holidays.
Much has happened in these last two months since I’ve been back. Busy, busy, busy. Despite all the opportunities to share my tasty tidbits and juicy African anecdotes, my desire to write has only waned.
My most startling observation is my feelings in relation to home, America. My first year here was plagued by the desire of home, enticing familiarity. I felt as though I kept looking back, over my shoulder and across the world. Whereas now, I am, at least, facing forward and seeing my world with more appreciative eyes, no longer blurred with tears of homesickness. Two years, believe it or not, probably not if you‘re a new volunteer, goes quite fast and I was fearful that it would be over before I could rid myself of preoccupations and enjoy it. So presently, I am not particularly interested in returning physically or mentally back to America, which is why I haven’t written in so long. My apologies; I am still alive and well... for the most part.
October was AIDS Ride. A national event, but divided regionally, volunteers pumped lactic acid through their thighs and sweated heaping spoonfuls of salt all across Togo in an effort to educate the more rural villages about everything HIV and AIDS. It was a relief to come back and have a project waiting for me, especially one in which I was with a group of fellow volunteers and friends and all that was required of me was to pedal my little bike and show people how to put on a condom. I am quite skilled at the condom demonstration now.
I opted to skip Halloween this year. It’s very easy to bypass American holidays here. I felt obligated to feel sad about not celebrating All Hollow’s Eve, but I wasn’t. I chose to go to Lome to watch the election coverage instead. Nothing against Halloween, but watching Barack Obama give his acceptance speech as the first black president of the United States while I am sitting in Togo, West Africa… well, there’s no contest. It was quite possibly one of the best moments of my life, definitely the most historic. I still can’t really wrap my head around it.
I don’t think I have ever mentioned that I am the Chair of the 2008-2009 Gender and Development (GAD) Committee for Peace Corps Togo??? This is not prestigious; it is simply a position that I have filled. Every Peace Corps country has a GAD or Women in Development Committee. The idea is to promote and support gender-related projects. So currently, we fund the Karren Waid Scholarship Program, which sends qualifying Togolese girls to school beginning from middle school up to university, and we fund Leve-Toi Jeune Fille quarterly magazine. I wanted to start a small project fund for volunteers, so that I could recycle the money we earn from fundraising back to volunteers’ projects. All of our fundraising here is through Volunteers, so when the Administration told us in September that they were cancelling our biggest fundraiser, the All Volunteer Conference, our jaws dropped. Our second biggest fundraiser, Tour Du Togo, is a bike ride for volunteers from Cinkase (northern most city in Togo) to Lome (southern most city in Togo) was also postponed by the Administration for “security reasons” and it looks like it too will be canceled if we cannot find a compromise soon. Needless to say this year’s GAD Committee received a fundraising debacle on our laps, and I have spent the last month traveling to Lome, to Dapaong (other end of the country), to Atakpame (other end of the country) and then back to Lome, trying to get a handle on how we are going to move forward and support our current projects let alone any new ones. I will be honest; I would rather be in my village working with my Girl’s Club, Study Skills Club and prepping for my Moringa training session than dealing with politics and bureaucracy. But, my innate sense of responsibility kicks in and I do what needs to be done or what I think needs to be done.
On a lighter note, I have rescheduled my soccer tournament for the first weekend in February. I just need to make sure I have enough volunteers who want to play…
I am also excited to report my new found motivation for my second year here. I have all kinds of ideas for new projects and I have already started some of them. So wish me luck.
Happy holidays.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Blip on the Screen
10/10/2008
I’ve returned. After three weeks of visiting the U.S. I find myself back in a familiar space. Quite literally on the anniversary of my year in Togo, I flew out. To my delight and surprise, my brother thought of the brilliant plan to fly me home to surprise my mother for her 60th birthday party. So as of July when I received my flight confirmation, I had been anticipating, planning and fantasizing about my trip home. Both my brother and I couldn’t stop dreaming of the perfect plan to squeeze the maximum amount of tears out of our mother. Every time I thought about it, I got a little weepy. I also couldn’t stop thinking about the amenities I would be privy to again. The hot showers, the dishwasher, the washing machine and dryer, the supermarkets, the restaurants, the beds-- oh, the luxurious beds and most importantly, the dancing. And there was my friends to see of course. So I was pretty pumped to come home. This trip was going to be a nice way to break up my two years here in Togo.
So the plan was to fly to Portland with my two brothers since that was where my mother was celebrating her birthday. The family knew that my brothers were coming to surprise my mother, but no one had any idea that I was going to be there. So when I walked in and saw my aunts for the first time, I couldn’t hold it in any longer and we all started crying. The surprise was set up so that my mom was out shopping and when she came home she would first meet two friends from school, also a surprise. Then my aunt handed my mom a card from the three of us (her children) wishing her well and sorry we couldn’t be there to help celebrate. At which point, my oldest brother walked in, and she was happy to see him and gave him a big hug, but would kind of expect this sort of thing out of him. Then my middle brother walked in, and she was slightly more shocked since it is somewhat out of character for my middle brother to do something in that nature. She was getting a little more emotional and teetering on the point of tears. I was around the corner asking people, “Should I go? Should I go?” I was nervous, on the brink of losing it myself, and walked out. As soon as we saw each other, we both started crying. Her face was flushed red, tears streaming down her face and her hands were on her knees. We embraced. It was priceless, worth every minute of the 21-hour flight, and hopefully every penny my brother spent to get me out there. I am not sure if I will ever be able to repay him; it was beyond generous.
The entire trip was something of a marathon of visiting family and friends, running around trying to see, well, everything. It was a blur of lunches, dinners, parties, dancing, hanging out, drinking, eating, shopping, talking, blah, blah, blah. People kept asking me how I liked it, meaning Peace Corps, Togo, all of it. That was and is a difficult question to answer. Sometimes I like it, sometimes I hate it. I have good days and bad days. This thing is a bit of a rollercoaster, and we, as volunteers, can only hope that with time the valleys and the peaks of this wild ride become less and less intense and extreme. I think I have said this before that this Peace Corps thing is hard. Probably one of the hardest things I have ever done, only because there are very few breaks from it. We live it day after day, 24/7 for two years, more or less. Not many people can do this and I was saddened to learn upon my return to Togo that four new volunteers ET’ed (or Early Terminated), meaning resigned, another good friend of mine was medically separated, and three or four stagiaires or trainees left before they even became volunteers. The night I returned to Africa, after another 21-hour plane ride and severely sleep deprived, I wept. Mostly likely the cause of my angst was due to fatigue and stress, but I was suddenly stricken with the familiar dread I experienced when I first got to Togo. I thought, “Oh no. I can’t go through this again. I won’t make it.” The pain of homesickness here is like nothing I have ever experienced before and it can be crippling. That first night back I sat on the edge of the bed a sobbing, shuddering heap of self-pity thinking of only of how I wanted to jump back on the plane and go home. Fortunately, I had good enough sense to realize I probably just needed sleep, and sure enough as soon as I got back to Togo and saw my friends, I felt, well, excited to be back.
I woke up this morning happy, content with no sign of sadness in sight. I am relieved, disconcerted by the fact that so many volunteers are leaving (which totally sucks, btw), but nonetheless relieved. These next three months are going to be busy with getting back into the swing of things, starting my Girl’s Club again, doing the AIDS Bike Ride Tour, Halloween, Elections, Post Visit, GAD Meetings, Cinkase-To-Lome Girl’s Bike Ride, Thanksgiving, the new GEE/NRM Swear-In, Christmas and New Years. I am actually wondering when I am going to have time to hang out and start working in my village, but you know there’s always time in Africa. Ca va venir.
I’ve returned. After three weeks of visiting the U.S. I find myself back in a familiar space. Quite literally on the anniversary of my year in Togo, I flew out. To my delight and surprise, my brother thought of the brilliant plan to fly me home to surprise my mother for her 60th birthday party. So as of July when I received my flight confirmation, I had been anticipating, planning and fantasizing about my trip home. Both my brother and I couldn’t stop dreaming of the perfect plan to squeeze the maximum amount of tears out of our mother. Every time I thought about it, I got a little weepy. I also couldn’t stop thinking about the amenities I would be privy to again. The hot showers, the dishwasher, the washing machine and dryer, the supermarkets, the restaurants, the beds-- oh, the luxurious beds and most importantly, the dancing. And there was my friends to see of course. So I was pretty pumped to come home. This trip was going to be a nice way to break up my two years here in Togo.
So the plan was to fly to Portland with my two brothers since that was where my mother was celebrating her birthday. The family knew that my brothers were coming to surprise my mother, but no one had any idea that I was going to be there. So when I walked in and saw my aunts for the first time, I couldn’t hold it in any longer and we all started crying. The surprise was set up so that my mom was out shopping and when she came home she would first meet two friends from school, also a surprise. Then my aunt handed my mom a card from the three of us (her children) wishing her well and sorry we couldn’t be there to help celebrate. At which point, my oldest brother walked in, and she was happy to see him and gave him a big hug, but would kind of expect this sort of thing out of him. Then my middle brother walked in, and she was slightly more shocked since it is somewhat out of character for my middle brother to do something in that nature. She was getting a little more emotional and teetering on the point of tears. I was around the corner asking people, “Should I go? Should I go?” I was nervous, on the brink of losing it myself, and walked out. As soon as we saw each other, we both started crying. Her face was flushed red, tears streaming down her face and her hands were on her knees. We embraced. It was priceless, worth every minute of the 21-hour flight, and hopefully every penny my brother spent to get me out there. I am not sure if I will ever be able to repay him; it was beyond generous.
The entire trip was something of a marathon of visiting family and friends, running around trying to see, well, everything. It was a blur of lunches, dinners, parties, dancing, hanging out, drinking, eating, shopping, talking, blah, blah, blah. People kept asking me how I liked it, meaning Peace Corps, Togo, all of it. That was and is a difficult question to answer. Sometimes I like it, sometimes I hate it. I have good days and bad days. This thing is a bit of a rollercoaster, and we, as volunteers, can only hope that with time the valleys and the peaks of this wild ride become less and less intense and extreme. I think I have said this before that this Peace Corps thing is hard. Probably one of the hardest things I have ever done, only because there are very few breaks from it. We live it day after day, 24/7 for two years, more or less. Not many people can do this and I was saddened to learn upon my return to Togo that four new volunteers ET’ed (or Early Terminated), meaning resigned, another good friend of mine was medically separated, and three or four stagiaires or trainees left before they even became volunteers. The night I returned to Africa, after another 21-hour plane ride and severely sleep deprived, I wept. Mostly likely the cause of my angst was due to fatigue and stress, but I was suddenly stricken with the familiar dread I experienced when I first got to Togo. I thought, “Oh no. I can’t go through this again. I won’t make it.” The pain of homesickness here is like nothing I have ever experienced before and it can be crippling. That first night back I sat on the edge of the bed a sobbing, shuddering heap of self-pity thinking of only of how I wanted to jump back on the plane and go home. Fortunately, I had good enough sense to realize I probably just needed sleep, and sure enough as soon as I got back to Togo and saw my friends, I felt, well, excited to be back.
I woke up this morning happy, content with no sign of sadness in sight. I am relieved, disconcerted by the fact that so many volunteers are leaving (which totally sucks, btw), but nonetheless relieved. These next three months are going to be busy with getting back into the swing of things, starting my Girl’s Club again, doing the AIDS Bike Ride Tour, Halloween, Elections, Post Visit, GAD Meetings, Cinkase-To-Lome Girl’s Bike Ride, Thanksgiving, the new GEE/NRM Swear-In, Christmas and New Years. I am actually wondering when I am going to have time to hang out and start working in my village, but you know there’s always time in Africa. Ca va venir.
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