As I stood at the front of the class attempting to remember the Kriolu word for duck and filter my way through the chaos, I hear "quack, quack, quack" coming from the front row. For the remainder of the period, the room sounded like a petting zoo -- filled with meowing, ribbiting, and barking. And I enjoyed every minute of it.
There's something raw, genuine and pure about chaos. Everything is turbulent here -- not rushed, frenzied disorder, rather a general lack of direction and no one to lead. For instance, during the second week of university classes, it is still unsure who will teach certain subjects, where certain classes will be held, or who will even show up to these classes.
I've come to appreciate this infancy, even when it blows up in my face. As I watched fifty kids attempt to tell me the Kriolu word for ant, I smiled -- attempting to absorb the moment in its entirety. The room was bursting with excitement, an energy that is lost with order and formality. The students were ecstatic that they could teach me something new, that they had something to share with me. Everyone wanted a voice, everyone had something to say.
However, sometimes my optimistic outlook gets the best of me. After class, a 12-year-old going on thirty came up to me and said, "You know, you can just slap them when they won't be quiet." I laughed and said, "Really? In America that is unacceptable." With her hand on her hip and without skipping a beat she said, "Miss Krista, you're not in America anymore. This is Cape Verde." Truer words have never been spoken. I guess it is time to pull in the reins.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
The Receiving End
I always thought life was about giving -- about contribution, about an unselfish commitment to others. If you asked me six months ago, I would have said that I believed in giving, wholeheartedly. Now, I'm not so sure that giving is the ultimate puzzle piece. My experience here, my integration into a new culture, is overwhelmingly defined by reception. My family, my neighbors, even strangers constantly want to feed me, teach me, and open up their world to me.
I was reminded of this fact just yesterday. Like a good Peace Corps volunteer, I volunteered to teach 5th and 6th graders at a nearby elementary school, twice a week. I began my first day on the job with a sense of authority - this was about me positively representing a faraway land -- teaching a foreign language, culture and people. Yet, I was thrown for a loop. It isn't about how many n's are in banana or about the difference between good and well. It is about listening and adapting, through the act of receiving. I am certain that nothing can be accomplished, or established, without an initial feeling of humble reception.
As soon as I walk through the gate each day, students bombard me with good afternoons, while taking my bag to lighten my load and repeating every English phrase they've ever heard. The secretary greets me with a kiss and insists that I sit with her, resting before the sea of students appear. Before I begin teaching my last class of the day, the lunch lady is insistent that my belly is full. It does not matter that I've already eaten lunch or that it's so hot outside the last thing I want to put in my mouth is a steaming bowl of soup.
When I turned around and saw my new students following me home, I knew it was not because they loved the lesson. I did not understand everything they attempted to tell me and I did not keep the class engaged for the entire hour. I did, however, listen. I took.
Over and over again, I am confronted with the boldness and capacity of reception. People receiving purpose, responsibility and ownership through the act of giving -- preparing a meal, providing a bed, teaching a local dance. I must be able to receive experiences, receive instruction, receive nourishment before I can begin to formulate any form of giving. I must first hear, listen and take without interruption. Receiving conveys investment, and in the end, maybe a little giving of my own.
I was reminded of this fact just yesterday. Like a good Peace Corps volunteer, I volunteered to teach 5th and 6th graders at a nearby elementary school, twice a week. I began my first day on the job with a sense of authority - this was about me positively representing a faraway land -- teaching a foreign language, culture and people. Yet, I was thrown for a loop. It isn't about how many n's are in banana or about the difference between good and well. It is about listening and adapting, through the act of receiving. I am certain that nothing can be accomplished, or established, without an initial feeling of humble reception.
As soon as I walk through the gate each day, students bombard me with good afternoons, while taking my bag to lighten my load and repeating every English phrase they've ever heard. The secretary greets me with a kiss and insists that I sit with her, resting before the sea of students appear. Before I begin teaching my last class of the day, the lunch lady is insistent that my belly is full. It does not matter that I've already eaten lunch or that it's so hot outside the last thing I want to put in my mouth is a steaming bowl of soup.
When I turned around and saw my new students following me home, I knew it was not because they loved the lesson. I did not understand everything they attempted to tell me and I did not keep the class engaged for the entire hour. I did, however, listen. I took.
Over and over again, I am confronted with the boldness and capacity of reception. People receiving purpose, responsibility and ownership through the act of giving -- preparing a meal, providing a bed, teaching a local dance. I must be able to receive experiences, receive instruction, receive nourishment before I can begin to formulate any form of giving. I must first hear, listen and take without interruption. Receiving conveys investment, and in the end, maybe a little giving of my own.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Only in Cape Verde...
[Just a few of my favorite Cape Verdean quirks]
1. Can you buy one hamburger bun
2. Can you wear jellies and look cool
3. The customer is never right
4. Can you arrive two hours late and be on time
5. Can you carry an umbrella when it’s sunny
6. Can you be labeled “ingratu” if you don’t visit, and eat, with everyone
7. Toilet paper is more important than your wallet, when traveling here to there
8. Can you page someone to call you because you don’t want to waste your cell phone minutes (txoma-m)
9. Can you enter a checkout line that is dedicated to the purchase of rice, and only rice
10. Can you squeeze 23 people into a van (squatting room only) and still recruit more passengers
11. Can you buy a concert ticket for an artist who has never heard of Cape Verde and who has no plans to perform in Cape Verde
12. Rain is an excuse not to go to work
13. Can you compete to see who can hang up the phone first
14. Can you have a five-minute conversation using various synonyms of “I’m good”
15. Can you sweat while taking a cold shower
16. Can you fry dinner for breakfast and call it by a different name
17. Can you eat eggs, yogurt and milk that have never seen the inside of a fridge
18. Can you play Cydni Lauper’s Time After Time on repeat and think people are enjoying it
19. Can you find an item in the grocery store one day and never see it again
20. Can you learn how to effectively sit on a three-legged chair
21. Can you wear the same shirt all week because you're a constant ball of sweat, whether you wear clean or dirty clothes; and every time you think about hand-washing and ironing all those articles of clothing, you calculate the growing height of that laundry pile
1. Can you buy one hamburger bun
2. Can you wear jellies and look cool
3. The customer is never right
4. Can you arrive two hours late and be on time
5. Can you carry an umbrella when it’s sunny
6. Can you be labeled “ingratu” if you don’t visit, and eat, with everyone
7. Toilet paper is more important than your wallet, when traveling here to there
8. Can you page someone to call you because you don’t want to waste your cell phone minutes (txoma-m)
9. Can you enter a checkout line that is dedicated to the purchase of rice, and only rice
10. Can you squeeze 23 people into a van (squatting room only) and still recruit more passengers
11. Can you buy a concert ticket for an artist who has never heard of Cape Verde and who has no plans to perform in Cape Verde
12. Rain is an excuse not to go to work
13. Can you compete to see who can hang up the phone first
14. Can you have a five-minute conversation using various synonyms of “I’m good”
15. Can you sweat while taking a cold shower
16. Can you fry dinner for breakfast and call it by a different name
17. Can you eat eggs, yogurt and milk that have never seen the inside of a fridge
18. Can you play Cydni Lauper’s Time After Time on repeat and think people are enjoying it
19. Can you find an item in the grocery store one day and never see it again
20. Can you learn how to effectively sit on a three-legged chair
21. Can you wear the same shirt all week because you're a constant ball of sweat, whether you wear clean or dirty clothes; and every time you think about hand-washing and ironing all those articles of clothing, you calculate the growing height of that laundry pile
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Hark the Sound
Imagine you are applying to a Cape Verdean university --
You begin the process with an entrance exam. If you fail the exam, you are still admitted to the university. This does not mean you are ready or prepared for the workload; it merely means that the university is desperate for students and money. You hear through the grapevine that classes are starting around October 4. You arrive at school and discover that professors are still on vacation. You travel back and forth to the university, even if you live on the other side of the island, because it is imperative to know when classes are actually beginning. You find out, two days ahead of time, that class schedules are posted in the university lobby. No information is posted online and informational emails are nonexistent. When you arrive to see your schedule, you discover that although classes were supposed to start October 18, they are actually beginning tomorrow. You were also told that you had classes in the morning and now all your classes are in the afternoon. You must ask your boss to revise your work schedule, again. After all, if you attend the university you are not supposed to have an outside job -- only full-time students are admitted. You talk to your professors and they are still unsure of what they will be teaching, even though classes begin tomorrow. No one knows exactly where your classes will take place because construction is still in progress on many of the classrooms and faculty offices. And, some classes that you registered for have no professor. You show up on the first day of class, hoping someone knows something…
Although this is a hypothetical situation, many prospective students confront these challenges daily. When I think back to my freshman year of college, I am greeted with images of orientation, friendly faces to help along the way, as well as numerous papers and informational emails– a stark contrast to the Cape Verdean university experience.
XOXO
You begin the process with an entrance exam. If you fail the exam, you are still admitted to the university. This does not mean you are ready or prepared for the workload; it merely means that the university is desperate for students and money. You hear through the grapevine that classes are starting around October 4. You arrive at school and discover that professors are still on vacation. You travel back and forth to the university, even if you live on the other side of the island, because it is imperative to know when classes are actually beginning. You find out, two days ahead of time, that class schedules are posted in the university lobby. No information is posted online and informational emails are nonexistent. When you arrive to see your schedule, you discover that although classes were supposed to start October 18, they are actually beginning tomorrow. You were also told that you had classes in the morning and now all your classes are in the afternoon. You must ask your boss to revise your work schedule, again. After all, if you attend the university you are not supposed to have an outside job -- only full-time students are admitted. You talk to your professors and they are still unsure of what they will be teaching, even though classes begin tomorrow. No one knows exactly where your classes will take place because construction is still in progress on many of the classrooms and faculty offices. And, some classes that you registered for have no professor. You show up on the first day of class, hoping someone knows something…
Although this is a hypothetical situation, many prospective students confront these challenges daily. When I think back to my freshman year of college, I am greeted with images of orientation, friendly faces to help along the way, as well as numerous papers and informational emails– a stark contrast to the Cape Verdean university experience.
XOXO
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Who Will Dance On The Floor In The Round
When I see America from a Cape Verde perspective I am overwhelmed with images of Eminem, Jay-Z and Ralph Lauren. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, right? Although I know a different America, we give off a stench comprised of fashion, money and physical beauty. Every day, my homestay brothers jammed out to Kayne West and Lady Gaga. Every day, people ask me if I knew Michael Jackson. Every day, people scour the market for Ralph Lauren and Lacoste knockoffs. Although I love nothing more than blaring Billie Jean and a dance party, this is not the America that will progress and sustain Cape Verde. Designer clothes and Hollywood will not bring food and jobs to the islands. I see people striving for this superficial happiness and I feel misconstrued, as a country and as an individual. I want to replace those role models with authors, presidents and civil leaders. I want Cape Verde to meet my teachers, friends and family. I want Cape Verde to read my favorite books and meet my favorite characters. I want my homestay nephew to read, debate and explore. I want so much more for this island nation.
XOXO
XOXO
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