A Month in a Thing Called Life

I have contemplated how to write this blog for days. I have fought with myself, deleted 30 different copies of this, started and scraped it all. I had promised myself I would never allow someone to get close to me. I failed miserably. I realize this as I sit on the front steps of another volunteer’s house the day before we are to leave for Senegal. I guess I have only been “dumped” once in my life, I’m always the one who thinks to end things before serious talks ever begin, before real emotions are even an idea. Who would have ever thought a casual relationship would never work. Someone always gets hurt. This time it just happened to be me, but I am resilient. The first few days in country are slightly awkward, because we just so happen to be traveling to Senegal together. The night I realize that it is truly over (in Senegal), I let loose and have one hell of a night.

It has been so long since I have been surrounded by this many Americans, thus I felt slightly vulnerable. Unsure if I was still capable to socially communicate. Turns out… it’s kind of like riding a bike; you never forget, but you might fall and metaphorically scrape your face. In no time at all I was socially normal and ended up with some really good friends whom are serving in real Africa. I have the upmost respect for you all.

The main reason for going to Senegal was for a little thing called W.A.I.S.T (West African Invitational Softball Tournament). It was an incredible experience, 200 plus volunteers who have been living in extremely conservative, Muslim communities converging upon one softball field, dressed in the most outrageous costumes that you can imagine. Since Cape Verde only had 7 players we teamed up with the recently evacuated Niger to form the Cape Verde/Niger Refugee Spectacular (I think everyone had a different name for the team, but truly not important). A fortuitous event as they were all really cool and fantastic softball players. We won our division, whoop!! Although, the idea that we “won” is slightly misleading, half the teams we played forfeit before the first pitch… enter insanity. We were told that we were “too competitive” because we were playing sober. Drunken doubles aside, there were some really great conversations, and an information exchange that gave me some great ideas for things I could possibly do on Boa Vista. The networking that occurred during those four days is invaluable. If this was just a conference I don’t think the same relationships would have been formed.

After four sleepless nights in Dakar, Matt Kubal and I packed up our gear and decided to head north to St. Louis, pronounced San-lou-ee. The day we are leaving I’m nervous, my French is weak and my Wolof is non-existent, and by my French is weak I mean I only know some numbers. Other people are worried for us because we are going to a place called “Garage Pompeii”, a lot filled with station wagons and buses that look as though they should have been retired in the 70’s. We are dropped off on the outskirts of this so called garage, looking incredibly touristy (enormous hiking backpacks, sleeping bags, and white skin). I begin saying St. Louis, and people are speaking at me in rapid fire, but luckily pointing in the general direction of the cars for St. Louis. Without any real problems we are settled in a station wagon headed for St. Louis. The trip there is surreal; on no island in Cabo Verde can you drive for more than two hours, this trip took seven sweltering hours (Africans hate the wind, they will close windows regardless of temperature). Four market stops, two police bribes, and one new Senegalese friend later we arrive in the first Capitol of Western Africa. Thanks to a new friend, Amanda, we are put in contact with a few volunteers who reside in the area, and are able to stay for free the first two nights! I love Peace Corps Volunteers. The third night, we need to be out of the house because there is much traffic through the transit house due to some evacuations in the north. We are told about a little hut hotel on the beach called The Pelican. It’s a quaint little place that seems more like a couples retreat, but the price is right, so Kubal and I snuggle up. We spent our days walking the town, kayaking the Senegal River, and biking though the National Park. As the trip begins to slow down, so does my body. I am physically exhausted by this point and ready to go back to Boa Vista. However I still have a week of IST (In-Service Training) waiting for me in Praia… joy. 

Waiting for my flight back to Praia I see a man with a guidebook for Cape Verde from the 90’s. That book will get him nowhere. I begin a conversation with him and learn that he is a French Volunteer in Mali. He works for the French version of Peace Corps more or less. I ask him if he speaks Portuguese or Kriolu, he doesn’t. He begins shooting questions at me about where to go and what to do, clearly he needs help. I begin by giving him emergency numbers of volunteers on other islands, and after an hour or so of speaking with him I decide to take him under my wing. I show him a little of Praia and then Assomada. I call my host mother and ask her if I can bring a French guy to eat a traditional Cape Verdean plate (Katxupa). She is ecstatic; she loves to show off for guests. To the countryside we go. He loves the food and the welcoming nature, and I can’t deny that I feel truly loved there and have a longing to be with them more. After a nice visit, we return to Praia, because the next begins my training and he is on a plane to São Vicente (best of luck friend, hope all went smoothly). 

Our training is surprisingly good. I went in thinking that it would just be a wasted 5 days, but we were given useful information, and presented with NGOs willing to fund projects. Four other volunteers and I go to a place called ProSan, they specialize in composting and minimal water use toilets. I begin to see the challenges that will come with the public bathroom project that I am trying to get down with VZW, the Belgian NGO. I am in no way giving up on this project but I do need another meeting with them before I begin writing a grant. The biggest news of all though, happened because of a breach of protocol by one of the other Environmental volunteers. 

Scott, on Sãnto Antao, has met a gentleman named Oliver. Oliver is the chief technical specialist, whatever the hell that means. What he really is… the representative from the UN in charge of the National Parks Project that I am a part of. Although I should clarify this; Manuel Carvalho is the National Coordinator for this project, and Oliver technically answers to him, I digress. Scott had been sending Oliver emails asking what we were supposed to be doing and when we would begin. This is where the breach of protocol occurs. We shouldn’t be contacting Oliver directly yet because he didn’t even know we were assigned to this project. This causes a little unrest on the Cape Verdean side and next thing I know Sarah, Scott, our APCD (Associate Peace Corps Director), Manuel Cavalho, Oliver, and me are in a meeting to discuss the parks. We are officially welcomed to the project and are privy to information and maps and resources that I have been trying to find for months. Oliver then tells us that we are to return to Praia April 11-15^th for the official opening and workshop, where we are to present our islands and have a report that includes the following information; 

-           - Overall impression of the project now that we have been at your sites for some time;

-       - Key challenges or risks that you perceive, with ideas how to address them

-       - Additional or supplementary activities that you consider relevant or useful in biodiversity conservation that have not been included yet or have come up recently.

This is a wonderful opportunity to really show that I am actually competent. However, I have no way to get over to where the park is going to be, and I haven’t even seen parts of this island yet. I can’t present if I have no idea what the ecological issues are in that area. I feel an adventure is in store. I haven’t a clue how I am going to get the information I need yet, but am confident that I will figure something out... time to break some of the asinine PC rules?

I know this blog is very informative and less fun to read, and for that I apologize. The next one will be more fun, you have the Matt Acre word. I think the presence of Cabo Verde at W.A.I.S.T. will cause an influx of West African volunteers visiting, which is rather exciting! I can’t wait to see all of my newly acquired friends again. Only 345 days until my glorious return to the motherland and the next softball tournament. Paz y amor from my little spot of land in the Atlantic.   

A volunteer friend in Senegal, Kate, is a fantastic writer... check out her blog if you get some time and show some love. I realize the website is a little confusing but, she is one of the Niger refugees.
http://niger-mania.blogspot.com/

  

Belgians, Germans, Cape Verdeans, Oh My My!

We are told as Peace Corps Volunteers that we WILL experience the roller coaster ride of our lives over the next 27 months. These words are hard to comprehend as an applicant, and as you wait for your service to begin, hell even during what is known as “the honeymoon phase” of your service. After about 6-8 weeks in country you begin to see the reality of service in another country and the difficulties that come with development work in the third world. I have been at my site for almost 5 months now and believe me; I know this metaphorical roller coaster all too well. The valleys are deep, and the peaks are beautifully high. How does a volunteer come out of the depths and reach a point where he/she is able to see the future? 

As I sat at the table drinking my Coke with the Belgium NGO, I couldn’t help but cry. I had been laughing internally so long and hard, that tears had begun to form in the corner of my eyes. The two Belgians, one of them born in the U.S., but at the age of nine emigrated to Belgium, had been in country for roughly 5 days. “Matt” they say “people make appointments that they don’t keep, they make you wait for hours to talk to anyone, and when you finally do meet with someone the meeting is generally unfulfilling”.  I tell them whilst laughing/crying “I have been here in Cape Verde for 6 months, I understand your frustrations and if you want to get development work done here, then these are parts of the culture that must be understood. We can’t force development in the same sense of “development” that occurs in Belgium or America”. I think I end that part of the conversation with a welcome to Cape Verde or something else cheesy like that. The conversation then turns to the potential project that was surprisingly good. 

There is a part of Sal Rei to the north known as Baraka; this part of town is where many of the construction workers and many lower end laborers live. There is no water, no electricity, no bathrooms, and is in general quite unsanitary. They are without a doubt the ones who need the most help. I have been trying to pitch an idea to the Camâra (government) for public bathrooms/showers. However, I have been met with resistance with the main excuse being, people don’t want public, they will only use private bathrooms. They have a relatively good point; Cape Verdeans are a proud people. With this knowledge I have been asking around to my friends who live there what they think Baraka needs the most, and bathrooms is in the top three always. So I ask them if public bathrooms/showers were there would people use them, without ever hinting that is what I am thinking of doing. Point being, I think I have received an unbiased opinion of the most important things in Baraka, and to my Peace Corps friends reading this blog (damn you PACA). 

So back to the Belgians, they had thought of building some communal place in Baraka, and I thought that perhaps a bathroom/shower attached would be a good idea. They loved the idea and were incredibly excited to have met me saying, “the first few days we were here nothing happened, but then the last couple of days everything seems to be coming together. We meet you and you tell us that there is another one of you on the island (Danny)! We are very pleased to see this project coming together”. This is where the peak comes; here I am sitting with two professors from a Belgian university telling me, a 24 year-old inexperienced development worker, they are excited to work with me. We begin talking about all the other projects they will be starting in July, some of them intimately involving Danny and I. Little did they know, they were saving me, pulling me out of the storm.  

I have also been taking a few meetings with Turtle Foundation, mostly Christian, the director of the Boa Vista site. We have discussed several projects that could be important, and income generating for Cape Verdeans. One project that interests me in particular is the construction of a field guide to the reptiles and insects of Boa Vista and then having Cape Verdeans sell them to tourists. Christian is a 30 year-old ecologists from Germany, his interests in the animals of Cape Verde is unrivaled. I feel as though he is an ecologist first but, development work seems to be a close second for him, not much unlike me and probably why we get along so well. 

Now for those who read this and say, well there are no Cape Verdeans in any of these projects, calm. The man who will be running the main project in Baraka is a Cape Verdean pastor, his name is Francisco. He will be helping with the coordination of people and supplies, and will be an integral part of the entire operation. I made a point during my meeting to stress the involvement of Cape Verdeans to insure the transfer of skills and the sense of ownership. 

So, all of that being said, the roller coaster continues. And damn, the peaks are beautiful.    

I’ll be in Senegal and Praia for three weeks, so don’t think I am ignoring you, it will just be difficult for me to be in contact. Paz y Amor my landlocked friends.

The Shadow of The Sahara

The days have become long and exhausting with the arrival of the Sahara Desert sands. There is a haze that constantly seems to hang over me, with the lack of job, direction, and a good friend of mine leaving the Peace Corps early for personal reasons, it is sometimes hard to find a sense of purpose. Let me try to explain the different roles that we Peace Corps volunteers play in Cabo Verde. 

Danny, my roommate, is an ED volunteer, or an education volunteer. He teaches English classes in the primary school, where every single kid on the island between the ages of 12 and 19 attend for their education. His integration with Sal Rei has been quite flawless due to his high profile job. I, on the other hand, am a SED volunteer, or a Small Enterprise Development Volunteer. As a SED volunteer our job descriptions are generally less constricted and we are given the freedom that ED’s rarely see. Generally, we SEDs are given a counterpart and an office where we are to make connections and network to eventually produce some development projects. However, I was never assigned a counterpart; I have nowhere to go during the days, just to wander aimlessly until I fall into something. For those reading this who know me, you know this is not my style. 

I decided to take a vacation here recently to the “motherland”, Santiago. I needed to find my purpose; I needed to see my friends who surely would have words of wisdom. They could tell me what I was supposed to be doing, why I joined, and I could rediscover myself during some much needed time away from my island. I had some really deep talks with all of my closest friends, and none of the talks seemed to help, I still couldn’t see through the haze. I actually felt no different upon return to my island, still unsure and confused. It wasn’t until I sat down to write in my journal, that I had what some would call an epiphany, but I like my metaphor with the sands from the Sahara better, I had a moment of sudden clarity. The haze had been slightly lifted, the sand had cleared just enough for me to see what I had been missing the whole time. It wasn’t the talks about sense of purpose, what I could do in place of my primary project that helped. Everything changed in my mind when I saw that the time in between talks is what helped. The things I was doing and experiencing. 

I spent one night with a very good friend of mine on his mountain in the middle of nowhere, literally. We played cards, smoked a cigar, and drank some good ol’ American whiskey. We had talked earlier about my concerns, but it was the deafening silence that spoke loudest, the moments where nothing else mattered other than the time with a good friend and some cards. I had a similar experience with another very close friend on the coast of the “motherland”. He is slightly older than me and had some great words of wisdom that probably would have been great words to bask in. However, I had little interest in what he was saying, mostly due to my own ignorance, but also because the words aren’t what mattered. We spent our time together doing all of the traditional Cape Verdean things. We even woke up one morning and found ourselves killing a pig and a goat on what we would later find out was the original fort of Cabo Verde. We performed the most traditional of traditions on what many consider to be the birthplace of Cabo Verde. Time after time, site after site, pen stroke after pen stroke, I saw what I had been missing. The most ironic part of this all, during my time in America I had a quote taped to my mirror, and it’s still there as far as I know. I won’t repeat the quote word for word for fear of butchering it, but I will give you the general significance; I was always living my life for the next moment, as if the moment I was in was a hurdle that needed to be conquered before my real life was to begin. Until I realized that my life had already begun, the conquests were my life. 

I had been blinded by the sands, by the hurdles in my life. I may have no better sense of purpose, and I most definitely still don’t have a job. But, I am going to live in this moment and be whatever Peace Corps and Cabo Verde need me to be. As my roommate so eloquently said, “it’s like that scene from Batman; and if your only success is to make the job easier for the next guy, than that is what you will be.” As the sands of the Sahara cloud everything, I say, “where’s my handkerchief”.

Warmest Chirstmas Ever

As I sit here listening to the same four Dean Martin Christmas songs on repeat I think to myself; Oh Christmas… is it really so close? I certainly don’t feel like Christmas is here, especially since the temperature has stayed a consistent 28 degrees Celsius. I always wondered what it would be like to miss all the consumerism, 2 months of Christmas music, and Santa ringing the bell outside of every Wal-Mart. I surely thought that it would be wonderful to not have any of that… and I was right, kind of. I do miss that loud, annoying, bell-ringing Santa, he reminds me of home. But here on Boa Vista, we are not entirely without Christmas celebrations, the largest grocer on the island has decorated the outside of the store with a giant star, and I have helped with the planning and construction of the Christmas tree in the main square.  But something is still missing… probably family and friends… and perhaps the fun-kind of eggnog. I will not be entirely void of friends to spend Christmas with however. Two of my closest friends here on the island, Gilson and Michel, have asked me to “pass” Christmas with them, to which I graciously accepted. There is also a small group of Peace Corps Volunteers coming here, hope they don’t mind me making my rounds during Christmas. I don’t think it would be in good taste to show up to a Cabo Verdi Christmas with 4 other Americans. I’m sure they will understand.  

The Christmas festivals thus far have been really cool! Every weekend there is music and dancing in the plaza. One thing I still haven’t figured out though; how in the world do people know what time things start here? Seriously, there are never announcements or fliers. I just get lucky and know a few people who are generally involved in the events. I have no idea how everyone else figures out, I imagine if they are passing by the plaza and hear and see people, they stop. But this is a mystery that has yet to be solved.  

The most recent basketball practice was not going so smooth, so I introduced a game that I am sure many of you are familiar with; 21. I think the team loved it, because we played it for four hours on both sides of the court. I also learned a new game called “suspensão”. The rules are simple enough; one person starts out by shooting free throws, if he misses, the ball can be touched by the next person in line, but he must shoot while in the air. If the second person in line misses, the third person goes, and so forth until someone makes one or no attempt is made to shoot. The benefit of not shooting is, if you try but don’t touch backboard or rim, you go back to zero points. So, sometimes it is best to not shoot. 

I wish I had more cool stories to tell you but, things move slowly here. I am still jobless, but I am happy. I have found some peace in the tranquil pace of my life. I hope that you all find some peace this holiday season, and drink one more grown-up eggnog for me.

 Feliz Natal- Feliz Navidad- Merry Christmas

from Boa Vista

World Map and Such

Thanksgiving was a hit, we had more food in this house than I ever thought possible. The ladies, Misty and Kate, literally stayed in the kitchen for an entire day and cooked the following wonderful menu; chicken, garlic bread, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans, pecan pie, pumpkin pie, and cheesecake. The company was even better. However, Danny and I didn’t realize how isolated we were until they came to visit. Yes, Danny and I live together, but we are literally the only Americans on the island, and he is the only person that I truly trust at this moment. And so if you imagine the size of my island, and then think about my city, you begin to feel the overwhelming sensation that you’re alone in the Atlantic. It doesn’t help when the people visiting are all second year volunteers and talking about going home already. Somewhat depressing to hear them talking so enthusiastically about leaving and how we don’t have much time to accomplish the things that we want to do.

On a brighter note, my English classes are going well and they asked me to tell my family and friends in America; "Happy Thanksgiving". No, they don’t know exactly what it is, but I gave a quick English class on what it is and what we typically do in American households. It gave me an opportunity to teach some words we needed to learn, but also let me share a little bit of my culture with my students.

Now that I have divided the class into speaking levels, this is the size of my church class. They range from novice low to intermediate low. To put that in perspective that is the level I was during the first two weeks in Cape Verde. Herein lays the problem with the slow pace of English learning, after a lesson they don’t leave speaking English. The students will switch back to their native language and so the practice stops outside of the class. And now, I completely understand how we Peace Corps volunteers “learn” a language as quickly as we do, and how incredibly hard teaching a foreign language actually is. Sorry Mrs. Cryan, you were a really good Spanish teacher. 

The World Map project is going well. We have made great progress and this weekend is the big day where all the children will come and paint the countries.

As far as Danny and my relationship go, we are fine. We have had serious differences, we have tested each other, and resolved many of our differences, and I am confident that there will be nothing that can derail the Boa Vista machine.

Also, I forgot to mention that I have started making these as meals. I have named it Pop's-Meal, after the man who taught me how to make this, and make a difference. Thanks for always being there Pop.