The phone rings loudly, interrupting what was one of the best nights of sleep for me in Cabo Verde. I look at the clock, its 5:45. What could be so important to warrant a phone call? I sleepily ask “oi, tudu bien pomodi bu tchoma-m ke-li hora” (hey, how’s it going, why are you calling me this early)? The voice answers in English; it’s a friend of mine who speaks very well. She informs me of about 50 Dolphins that have washed upon a shore that is perhaps a 15 minute walk from my house. I am so excited; I can hardly contain myself, excited for several reasons. One, I am no longer deathly ill and feel up to the task of saving dolphin lives. Two, I am getting phone calls from locals informing me of events occurring within Sal Rei! The latter is quite possibly one of the most important things that could happen to me; this means I am, as Peace Corps loves to say, “integrating”.
As I arrive to the ghastly scene of approximately 60 dolphins washed upon the only rocks within 20 kilometers, I notice that most of the locals are just watching as one Italian woman tries to pull the dolphins back into the ocean. I immediately begin helping, waiting for each wave to come in, thus making the dolphins easier to pull. A Capeverdean woman walks up to me and says, “You know that the dolphins will just come back”, but this does not detour me from trying, and I tell her that I must try. I don’t know what sparked the people standing around watching, but the first help comes in the form of a 10 year-old boy named Emmerson. How fitting, this is the name of my favorite brother during my home-stay on Santiago. He helps me drag the dolphins one-by-one, into the ocean where I take over and swim them out as far as I can (roughly 300 yards).
One problem, what the woman has told me about the dolphins coming back was holding true. So the boy looks at me, and says “let’s find the biggest dolphin that still has a little life and put her in the ocean, she will call to the others”, brilliant! We find the biggest one and begin moving all the rocks in front of her, as to cause as little bodily damage as possible. We get her in the ocean and I swim her out far, by the time we get the next one in the ocean, a boat has shown up with two marine biologists who live here on Boa Vista. They help me and the others corral the dolphins that are in the ocean and prevent them from swimming back to shore.
After roughly three hours, we have 13 dolphins in open-ocean, thanks to the help of a boat and 6 other Capeverdeans. One of whom, turns out to be Emmerson’s father. We talk for a few minutes about his boy, and I tell him that he has a good kid who seems to care about the environment and understands the importance of conservation. He tells me that his boy wants to be a biologist! Which would explain the boys fondness to me, I had told him that I am an ecologist/biologist, and that I am here working with the Ministry of Environment. After all the work has been done, a few people show up from the Ministry, and ask me if I have done a count on the dolphins that were beyond saving. I tell them no but, I would do it now; 46 dead. This number puts a shadow over the minuscule number that are currently swimming, but I still feel accomplished, just slightly less so.
The article that was written up for “ASemana”, the Cape Verde newspaper, fails to mention any dolphins saved, but those of us that were there know that we were successful in saving the lives of a few dolphins. Thanks to by new buddy Emmerson, whom I plan to meet with again soon. Who knows, one day he may be an influential scientists, one can dream.
To: The Future Scientists
From: Aspiring Scientist
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
I Have What?
Rewind… roughly six weeks. I’m standing in my host-mother’s kitchen watching her make some food. She is drinking some substance slightly resembling milk, and she offers me some. I am unsure; I waft a little in the direction of my nose to get a better sense of what is before me. She says that the milky substance is in fact milk from a goat, but the smell is wrong, but what the hell, this is Africa right? Let’s get a little cultural. I take a swig, and am immediately disgusted with myself, that is no milk that I have ever had. Unpasteurized mixed with vinegar and sugar. My stomach churns as I begin to digest this odd concoction of liquids. Little did I know that I was contracting a little parasite called Giardia.
The last few weeks of pre-service training consist of spontaneous vomiting and bowel movements of the most wicked kind. On one occasion I actually awoke to a rather unfortunate accident, this incident occurred early enough in the morning to awake and use the washboard to clean my sheets before any member of my family knew what was occurring. When my mother awakes, she asks me why my sheets are drying on the roof. I tell her that they were dirty and that I needed to clean them, she says “why so early”? I pretend that I don’t understand and just go on about my morning routine. As I arrive to the center where we have technical session, four other trainees are already sitting in the center. They greet me; “Bon dia Matt, how are you”? Reply; “I pooped the bed this morning”. Now, I realize that you reading this back in the states may think that this is ridiculous but realize that bowel movements are like pillow talk here. My fellow trainees cannot contain themselves, they begin laughing hysterically at me, and to be fair, this is rather humorous.
Later that day Estavon, the Peace Corps driver, takes the 3 environmental trainees along with one other trainee to Praia, for a meeting with the Director of environmental affairs for Cape Verde. The trainees are asking me questions about my incident and I recap my story, and maybe I embellish a little. Estavon hears some of it, but misses the story punch-line, so I tell the story again in Kriolu. Now, the story is sufficiently funny in English, but outrageous in Kriolu. At the end of my story Estavon and all the other trainees are laughing uncontrollably, and Estavon tells me, “oh, that’s normal”. This statement throws the already hysterical, into almost violent laughter. If only I could continue to laugh.
During our short stint in Praia I began a rapid decline to what eventually led to a sleepless night and medicine that only alleviated some of my symptoms. The last few days on Santiago were painful and long. Upon my arrival to Boa Vista, I was sure that with me now in complete control of my diet and drinking water that I would recover. Boy was I wrong. Three more weeks of hell and I just couldn’t take the pain, drowsiness, and dehydration anymore. I called our Peace Corps Medical Officer and she says immediately, let’s get you tested. I turn in two samples, one on a Thursday and one on Friday. The weekend is rather rough, the waiting is the worst. On Monday sometime in the afternoon I receive a phone call from Doc, and she says, “Matthew, your results came back positive for Giardia”, what the hell is Giardia? Anywhow, she continues to tell me that the pharmacies here are currently out of the remedy that will get these little monsters out of me, but what’s the difference? I’ve been waiting for 6 weeks, what’s another day or two. So I receive the medicine and now it’s only a matter of time. Who knew that a harmless drink could bring so much pain? Stay tuned… next week I’ll tell you about the dolphin lives I saved!
To: Healthy
From: Recovering
The last few weeks of pre-service training consist of spontaneous vomiting and bowel movements of the most wicked kind. On one occasion I actually awoke to a rather unfortunate accident, this incident occurred early enough in the morning to awake and use the washboard to clean my sheets before any member of my family knew what was occurring. When my mother awakes, she asks me why my sheets are drying on the roof. I tell her that they were dirty and that I needed to clean them, she says “why so early”? I pretend that I don’t understand and just go on about my morning routine. As I arrive to the center where we have technical session, four other trainees are already sitting in the center. They greet me; “Bon dia Matt, how are you”? Reply; “I pooped the bed this morning”. Now, I realize that you reading this back in the states may think that this is ridiculous but realize that bowel movements are like pillow talk here. My fellow trainees cannot contain themselves, they begin laughing hysterically at me, and to be fair, this is rather humorous.
Later that day Estavon, the Peace Corps driver, takes the 3 environmental trainees along with one other trainee to Praia, for a meeting with the Director of environmental affairs for Cape Verde. The trainees are asking me questions about my incident and I recap my story, and maybe I embellish a little. Estavon hears some of it, but misses the story punch-line, so I tell the story again in Kriolu. Now, the story is sufficiently funny in English, but outrageous in Kriolu. At the end of my story Estavon and all the other trainees are laughing uncontrollably, and Estavon tells me, “oh, that’s normal”. This statement throws the already hysterical, into almost violent laughter. If only I could continue to laugh.
During our short stint in Praia I began a rapid decline to what eventually led to a sleepless night and medicine that only alleviated some of my symptoms. The last few days on Santiago were painful and long. Upon my arrival to Boa Vista, I was sure that with me now in complete control of my diet and drinking water that I would recover. Boy was I wrong. Three more weeks of hell and I just couldn’t take the pain, drowsiness, and dehydration anymore. I called our Peace Corps Medical Officer and she says immediately, let’s get you tested. I turn in two samples, one on a Thursday and one on Friday. The weekend is rather rough, the waiting is the worst. On Monday sometime in the afternoon I receive a phone call from Doc, and she says, “Matthew, your results came back positive for Giardia”, what the hell is Giardia? Anywhow, she continues to tell me that the pharmacies here are currently out of the remedy that will get these little monsters out of me, but what’s the difference? I’ve been waiting for 6 weeks, what’s another day or two. So I receive the medicine and now it’s only a matter of time. Who knew that a harmless drink could bring so much pain? Stay tuned… next week I’ll tell you about the dolphin lives I saved!
To: Healthy
From: Recovering
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Turtles and Parasites
The days seem to go by quicker, and I find my mind wandering less every day. However, I wish I could say all was good on Boa Vista, as soon as I feel like I don’t have a nutrient-sucking, energy-draining, parasite living in my body, I think I’ll be better. Enough about the good stuff, I know what you all want to hear about… right?..... Turtles, me too.
I arrive at the “turtle camp” around 3 p.m. and begin the meet with the group camping at Boasesperanca, the beach with the broken boat. I am first greeted by Mafalda, a semi-attractive Portuguese girl of about 22 years. She introduces herself as the director of this campsite and tells me that I am on the midnight turtle patrol tonight. I then continue to meet with all the other people in the camp, one being Domenico, a very cool Italian guy who works in a national park in the southern part of Italy. I then meet all of the Capeverdeans, they are cold towards me in the beginning. We sit. I stare at the ocean through a crack in the tents, the sun is stifling, and we are deafeningly quiet. I jump in, I begin asking the Capeverdeans where they are from and why they are here, I learn that they are soldiers and have been placed here to guard the turtle volunteers. Slowly, they realize that I speak some Kriolu, I think they are impressed, and they begin to joke with me. Within an hour I had the table roaring in laughter, in 2 languages, but I think the soldiers are mostly laughing at me. After I realized that I had exhausted my Kriolu vocabulary, I became a little nervous…. I have nothing left to say, but I don’t want to go back to the awkward…. saved by my new good friend, the Italian. He says, “I am going for a walk, would you like to come with?”, of course I would like to come with. We walk and talk for hours, we say nothing for hours. Upon returning to the camp I can smell the aroma of dinner, and by the looks of it, snail is on the menu for the evening, it’s delightful. I catch a few hours of sleep after dinner and awake for my patrol. I go with Andrea, a beautiful girl from Switzerland, and Sakiss, a soldier in the Cabo Verde Army. To my surprise, he is dressed entirely in black and is carrying an AK-47. I feel as though I am going in to battle. We walk the 20 km patrol with no sightings (this is the end of the season, so no reason to be alarmed), and return for bed. The next few days are similar to this, except for one day when we find a nest that had been raided by crabs. We find a lone hatchling and take him back to base-camp to be released that night. They honor is given to me, and so I go down to the beach with everyone and turtle hatchling in-hand, I place him in the sand and watch him run to freedom, except, he is snatched by a crab and eaten. I have failed my one and only objective! A little sad, but this is the outcome for most turtle hatchlings, he never stood a chance alone anyhow.
The fact that I am eating for free is nice, because at this point Danny and I have no money and have been eating rice for a couple days. Time for Domenico to leave, we exchange information and I give him the number to a friend of mine who is living on Sal, since he is on his way there for a few days. He gives me the bro shake/hug, and I am actually sad to see him go, maybe he will come back next year for turtle season.
I am back in town, and back to the mundane, I feel weaker than ever due to what I can only assume to be a parasite. I can’t let the potential parasite keep me from living though, and besides, my language professor from Santiago Island has come to visit for the weekend. I have invited him and his colleague to stay with us so they don’t have to pay for a hotel. Still penniless, Africano, my language professor, has agreed to pay for our meals while he is staying in our house, score! We travel the island with him and end up on the far eastern coast where I find several people that I have meet with in Sal Rei, and with Turtle Foundation. We decide to stay for a bit and chat with members of this small village. The evening comes to an anticlimactic end, and I am exhausted. I fall asleep slightly romanticizing my time in America and unsure of my purpose here. Perhaps when I am parasite-free, my outlook will be different. Oh and wish me luck, I find out what exciting ailment I have tomorrow!
To: My Healthy Friends
From: Slightly Less Healthy
I arrive at the “turtle camp” around 3 p.m. and begin the meet with the group camping at Boasesperanca, the beach with the broken boat. I am first greeted by Mafalda, a semi-attractive Portuguese girl of about 22 years. She introduces herself as the director of this campsite and tells me that I am on the midnight turtle patrol tonight. I then continue to meet with all the other people in the camp, one being Domenico, a very cool Italian guy who works in a national park in the southern part of Italy. I then meet all of the Capeverdeans, they are cold towards me in the beginning. We sit. I stare at the ocean through a crack in the tents, the sun is stifling, and we are deafeningly quiet. I jump in, I begin asking the Capeverdeans where they are from and why they are here, I learn that they are soldiers and have been placed here to guard the turtle volunteers. Slowly, they realize that I speak some Kriolu, I think they are impressed, and they begin to joke with me. Within an hour I had the table roaring in laughter, in 2 languages, but I think the soldiers are mostly laughing at me. After I realized that I had exhausted my Kriolu vocabulary, I became a little nervous…. I have nothing left to say, but I don’t want to go back to the awkward…. saved by my new good friend, the Italian. He says, “I am going for a walk, would you like to come with?”, of course I would like to come with. We walk and talk for hours, we say nothing for hours. Upon returning to the camp I can smell the aroma of dinner, and by the looks of it, snail is on the menu for the evening, it’s delightful. I catch a few hours of sleep after dinner and awake for my patrol. I go with Andrea, a beautiful girl from Switzerland, and Sakiss, a soldier in the Cabo Verde Army. To my surprise, he is dressed entirely in black and is carrying an AK-47. I feel as though I am going in to battle. We walk the 20 km patrol with no sightings (this is the end of the season, so no reason to be alarmed), and return for bed. The next few days are similar to this, except for one day when we find a nest that had been raided by crabs. We find a lone hatchling and take him back to base-camp to be released that night. They honor is given to me, and so I go down to the beach with everyone and turtle hatchling in-hand, I place him in the sand and watch him run to freedom, except, he is snatched by a crab and eaten. I have failed my one and only objective! A little sad, but this is the outcome for most turtle hatchlings, he never stood a chance alone anyhow.
The fact that I am eating for free is nice, because at this point Danny and I have no money and have been eating rice for a couple days. Time for Domenico to leave, we exchange information and I give him the number to a friend of mine who is living on Sal, since he is on his way there for a few days. He gives me the bro shake/hug, and I am actually sad to see him go, maybe he will come back next year for turtle season.
I am back in town, and back to the mundane, I feel weaker than ever due to what I can only assume to be a parasite. I can’t let the potential parasite keep me from living though, and besides, my language professor from Santiago Island has come to visit for the weekend. I have invited him and his colleague to stay with us so they don’t have to pay for a hotel. Still penniless, Africano, my language professor, has agreed to pay for our meals while he is staying in our house, score! We travel the island with him and end up on the far eastern coast where I find several people that I have meet with in Sal Rei, and with Turtle Foundation. We decide to stay for a bit and chat with members of this small village. The evening comes to an anticlimactic end, and I am exhausted. I fall asleep slightly romanticizing my time in America and unsure of my purpose here. Perhaps when I am parasite-free, my outlook will be different. Oh and wish me luck, I find out what exciting ailment I have tomorrow!
To: My Healthy Friends
From: Slightly Less Healthy
Monday, October 4, 2010
Where Am I
La…… what does it mean? In Kriolu, this translates as; there. This story takes place in “downtown” Sal Rei, better known as the praca. I meet with Ivon, at the Ministério da Ambiente, she is the director of the environmental arm of the Capeverdean government here on Boa Vista. I talk with her a little about my background, and her background. After our conversation, she tells me that I am supposed to have a desk here and a computer, but they didn’t know I was coming? Yeah I can’t figure that one out either. She tells me that it would be best for me to meet with the two NGO environmental groups here on the island, and she exits to make a few phone calls while I awkwardly sit with two other guys in the office and timidly try to have a conversation. Ivon returns and tells me that I need to return at “tresi hora”, I repeat; “tres hora?” and she confirms. I leave the office feeling slightly accomplished that I had those conversations in Kriolu. I return at 2:45 because I did not want to be late for my first meeting! Ivon looks at the clock, then me, then the clock, and finally me. She says, “I said tresi houra”. I say “I know, I didn’t want to be late”. She proceeds to pull out a piece of paper and write the number 13, she was trying to tell me that my meeting was at 1p.m., not 3p.m. So, Ivon and I are both a little frustrated with the other one and she tells me to go and meet with Christian, who is in charge of Turtle Foundation. I ask where the building is and she says “la”, and points in a general direction, I laugh a little and ask her what color is the building and she tells me the building is green and has two stories and is near a bar. So I tell her that I will be fine and that I can most likely find the building. She looks at me and I can tell she has no confidence in my ability to find it. I begin walking to “la”, and as I get near where I think the TF is I begin asking people on the street where this building is and most of them look at me and say, I’m not sure but I think its “la”. So, I walk to “la”, for a long time. Until, I hear oh TF is “li”, which translates as; here!!!! I am overjoyed, the building must be very close for that word to be used, the man points at a two story green building that has no obvious markings on it. I go to the building and knock on the door, no answer. I knock again… no answer. I am so frustrated at this point and I am just sure Christian thinks I am completely incompetent, I can’t even find a building. So I go home defeated, tell my roommate about my fun experience with the word “la”, and we both have a good laugh, because he knows exactly what I am talking about.
The next morning I wake up, have my coffee, the instant junk. I can’t seem to find a percolator of any kind here. After breakfast and coffee, I begin my journey again, this time I armed with the knowledge from a friend of mine who works at the library in Sal Rei. He gives me wonderfully easy directions, and I find the building in a matter of minutes this time. Christian opens the door and I introduce myself as a Peace Corps Volunteer and tell him my ecology background and my herpetology background. He seems fairly excited about this, a good start, and then comes my apology for missing our meeting the day before. I tell him that I am so sorry, that I had misunderstood the time, and it won’t happen again, he looks at me with uncertainty, and says “I knew nothing about a meeting, and I was definitely not at the office yesterday at 1”! I just want to laugh, but I keep my composure and finish out our meeting on a strong note. I set up a date to help out with the turtle work “li”, and will begin “la” very soon.
To: The Directionally Challenged
From: Linguistically Challenged
The next morning I wake up, have my coffee, the instant junk. I can’t seem to find a percolator of any kind here. After breakfast and coffee, I begin my journey again, this time I armed with the knowledge from a friend of mine who works at the library in Sal Rei. He gives me wonderfully easy directions, and I find the building in a matter of minutes this time. Christian opens the door and I introduce myself as a Peace Corps Volunteer and tell him my ecology background and my herpetology background. He seems fairly excited about this, a good start, and then comes my apology for missing our meeting the day before. I tell him that I am so sorry, that I had misunderstood the time, and it won’t happen again, he looks at me with uncertainty, and says “I knew nothing about a meeting, and I was definitely not at the office yesterday at 1”! I just want to laugh, but I keep my composure and finish out our meeting on a strong note. I set up a date to help out with the turtle work “li”, and will begin “la” very soon.
To: The Directionally Challenged
From: Linguistically Challenged
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)