Friday, September 24, 2010

Upper East Side

I didn’t learn the secret of cardinal directions until sixth grade. Sometimes teachers said I lived in the east and sometimes teachers said I lived in the west, thus I remained a puzzled child. Finally, my sixth grade social studies teacher (thank you, Mr. P!) straightened out my confusion. He explained that west and east must always spell “we.” He also clarified that we lived in the eastern part of the US, but the western part of North Carolina. My sense of direction isn’t much better today, even at the ripe age of 23.

Living in Cape Verde has only contributed to this weakness of mine. After visiting the phone company to inquire about installation, I discovered that my official address is “the blue apartment building near Hotel Roterdao” – no numbers, no street names, no perpendicular systems of organization. All directions begin with “near” and end with some type of landmark. I’m still not sure what happens if you’ve never heard of Hotel Roterdao or what course of action one should take upon arrival at the blue apartment building – we are not the only residents after all.

After scrubbing, mopping and adding a needed feminine touch, I can proudly call the blue apartment building home. This new independence is a strange feeling – no one insisting I eat at least five times a day, no one preparing my snack for school, no one heating up my bath water, no one translating my broken Kriolu. In a day’s time, I went from child to adult, from village to city, from training to reality.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Adaptation

Day 1 -- I sat at the breakfast table - tired eyes, a pounding headache, and sweat dripping down my back - with a rooster staring back at me and chicks scurrying over my feet. I closed my eyes and the only thought I could muster was “you can do this, you can do this, you can do this.”

Day 63 -- I can survive heat that makes me feel like I have a fever; I can wash my hair and body with a few cups of water; I can open a coconut without spilling its juice; I can remove t-shirt stains with my bare hands; I can boulder across the island; I can pick out the minuscule bones of a whole fish; and I can integrate myself into an entirely new culture, language and people. Although I thought I would never get used to eating rice three times a day, I am realizing that this is not the most difficult part of my service. You can get accustomed to just about anything. The hard part still remains -- now what? What will my 6-year old, Cape Verdean nephew do for work in twenty years? What if the rainy season doesn’t come next year? What if the soil remains unfertile and my village is unable to grow crops?

Saturday officially marks the beginning of my service as a PC volunteer. As I move out of my village, I am left with a growing feeling of frustration and guilt. I know my family is malnourished and I know that one day, growing corn and beans will not be enough. Yet, what now?

XOXO

Sunday, September 5, 2010

It’s not just me and it’s not just you

This week, I observed the true efficiency and purpose of Peace Corps. I saw why I am proud to be a part of this mission, taking place around the world. Throughout my training period, the focus remains on the people of Cape Verde. For instance, everyone from the training staff, including language teachers and technical trainers, to our homestay families are Cape Verdeans. We not only benefit from learning by total immersion, we are also pumping money into the economy by providing employment for local people.
In addition, all volunteers who teach either middle or high school must successfully complete model school during training. Model school involves volunteers inviting young people from their respective community to participate in free language classes for a two-week period. Local children are learning English while volunteers are practicing and assessing their teaching methods. In essence, my training period is as much for the people of Cape Verde as it is for my benefit. A true partnership is in the works -- an exchange of giving, taking and collaborating. My language teacher patiently fixes my broken Kriolu. I teach him English phrases. He introduces me to his friends and neighbors. I am teaching him how to swim. That’s a powerful idea. What if our entire education system centered on serving others, yet simultaneously maximized our learning potential?
My language teacher, fluent in at least 8 languages, chooses to live in Cape Verde and help his people. When I asked him why he does not take his family to live in the US or other developed nation, he said, “I do not like to see my people suffer.” He chooses to live in a country, absent of clean water and basic necessities, as a sole result of his desire to help and improve his country. His words play over and over in my head. Maybe it’s because I’m not sure I would have his courage, determination and sense of responsibility. If there were better opportunities abroad for myself as well as my family, I think selfishness would triumph.
I am finding it difficult to fight against the American mentality of individuality. We unconsciously grow up associating happiness with financial success and independence. When we no longer need the assistance of our parents, we have reached adulthood. In contrast, my teacher unconsciously associates happiness with his people. The value of his dollar is in a chance to see his neighbor attend college or to see his community establish an effective waste system. It is about working to build a community, rather than working to build himself. I am certain, through people like him, we will forever change the face of our world.
XOXO

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Who Says

I wasn’t sure how I felt about living in the capital city for the next two years; however, after my weekend stay in Praia, I’m more than ready to plant my small town roots in the city! Although city life comes at the cost of integrating into a village community, Praia offers an abundance of culture and a diverse array of people. Over the weekend, I shadowed two PC volunteers who teach at the university, my future workplace. We filled our days with long walks and bus rides, exploring every inch of the city. I took my first shower in six weeks, scoured every store for Snickers bars and M&M’s, attempted to make American cuisine with a few substitutions, and most importantly, learned the ins and outs of life as a PC volunteer. However, the true highlight of my weekend centered on a group of kids and lots of cuddling.
I made my first visit to an SOS center, established as a safe place for children to live and grow if their home lives are dangerous or inadequate. However, any individual can leave his or her children at the orphanage, no explanation needed. Thus, the center has become overcrowded and vastly understaffed, further contributing to the huge problem of child neglect in Cape Verde. For instance, it is not uncommon for financially and physically able parents to drop their children at a center one day and depart to work the next.
As soon as I walked in the door, kids swarmed me. Children were holding my hands, climbing on my back, sitting on my feet, pulling at my skirt -- they are desperately starved for attention, comfort and love. Ironically, we all have infinite amounts of hugs and kisses to give, yet there are children suffering physically, emotionally and mentally from an absence of tender loving care.
One brave soul, quite possibly my new hero, lives at the center and is responsible for all 40 children. This includes feeding 15 infants, giving 40 baths (that’s 80 feet to clean and 400 toes to wash), breaking up frequent disputes, as well as somehow managing to get them all in bed. No staff, no fundraising committee, and an ever-increasing amount of children.
As for bedtime, 15 boys share a room with 2 bunk beds -- that’s about 4 boys in each bed. In addition, many of the children suffer from mental and emotional disabilities, making it difficult for anyone to sleep at night. In the infants’ room, a 6 year old lies in a crib, not able to talk or walk as a result of big, fat neglect. Frequently, the infants lie all day in their cribs, never held or talked to, merely receiving bottles at mealtimes.
I continually remind myself that the SOS center is most likely better than their prior living situation; however, it is difficult to see. It gives you that heavy feeling in your stomach and a lump in your throat. I visited the center for all of forty-five minutes and a boy who never left my side, who merely makes noises and repeats his name, began to cry when it was time for me to go. He craves and needs attention so badly that less than an hour of individual playtime left him attached to a stranger.
I envision my secondary project emerging around the needs of these children. Imagine the developmental significance even a weekly bedtime story would make in the lives of these 40 kids! The potential to improve their quality of life is immense, especially during their developmental years, yet resources and manpower are currently nonexistent. In two years anything is possible, right? I think I left my heart in the hands of that sweet, young face.
XOXO