Termites like tomato soap?

 September, 2013

 

It's been just about an entire month in village.  This might sound un-incredible.  In theory I'm suppose to just be here for two years right?  I think that's what we all think before we join.  That we're just thrown in the middle of some village and left there for better or worse (like the movie "Volunteers" with Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson).  Maybe it was like that before and is more like that in larger countries with more difficult transport (not that it's not difficult here!).  But here in PCTG, there seems to be always something somewhere yanking you out of post.  Some training, illness, re-stocking of food staples, etc etc.  So when you can manage to stay and really just be there, it feels like a great accomplishment.  This stay didn't even involve a stroll to the market.  It was colored with some anemia complications, a second degree oil burn on my ring finger (very small), a visit with the local marabout or healer, harvesting beans and millet, and making headway on repairing a school garden pump.  Out of all that, I want to share my visit with the marabout most:

A fellow PCV had recently gone to see one themselves and I was also reading "God's Middle Finger, into the lawless heart of the Sierra Madre," by Richard Grant, and reading about how Grant got to spend a peyote session with a shaman or planned on it anyway.  At the same time, I've been struggling with health at site, mostly diet related, and just wanted the experience.  On top of it all, once you come into the single digit month countdown, especially at seven (now five as of this posting!), an alarm bell seems to go off ringing "you're here you're here, but time is ruining!  Enjoy, learn everything, take in at as much as you can, this is an amazing once-in-a-lifetime experience!"  So, I was inspired.  

 

One night, while sitting on the stick bed with my host mother and shelling beans in the glow of the twilight, I tried to ask where the nearest healer was and if I would be able to go and if that would be OK.  "You can go with me" was her reply.  "I'll take  you, tomorrow."  Tomorrow??  I don't know if I'm ready!  Our conversation was quiet.  I wanted to be gentle and reverent with my voice.  But it went up a bit at the idea of tomorrow.  I told her I was scared, never being able to remember how to say nervous.  She laughed at that and told me it would be good.  That he would look into my work and health here and tell me if it's OK. 

 

Tomorrow became the day after.  After an afternoon nap, sweating through my cotton shirt (I ended up taking it off and using it as a pillow as my pillow got spoiled during the rains), I dressed in a wrap skirt, donned on the sweaty shirt as it matched the blue wrap skirt nicely, and tied on a head wrap.  For my usual attire here, I was dressed up.  I was excited to wear something that had a matching color scheme.  It felt refreshing.  I fetched a quick bidong (25L oil container) of water in case our session ran late, and we set off down the road to the neighboring Fula village. 

We stopped off at my friend Isatahs to visit.  She ended up coming to the marabouts house with me.  I was surprised how at ease I actually was.  Ebrima had a good compassionate vibe about him.  My host mom explained my visit.  He was happy with it all and said it was good.  He held his shiny and beautiful prayer beads and began praying.  His prayer beads reminded me of Tiger's eye polished stones.  I tried to calm and open my own energy to be receptive to the experience.  He blew on the beads held in his fingers.  Then he handed them to me.  For me to hold them for a beat before he continued praying.  Eventually he began giving me my 'prescription.'  I heard something about a small white sheep and eating or food and that it would be good.  My host mom and Isatah repeated in simpler Wolof to me until I could reiterate back satisfactorily.  Before the comprehension, after he had spoken about how he heard, peace only, peace only, and the sheep, my mom told me to give her the money to give to him.  Just a little over a dollar was what I brought which she said was more than enough (fifty Dalasi). 

He had gone out and brought back cooking pot resin and began writing prayers on a worn shiny wooden plank in Arabic script.  There was a bowl of water sitting near the healer.  I had heard about babies drinking this prayer water when they are born.  So I was nervously mentally preparing myself for the same fate.  But for me, he said I was to add it to my bathing water and wash with it.  Phew!  He gave me two juju's also.  These are more Arabic prayers written on paper, folded and wrapped in cloth or leather, and worn on the body.  He gave me two.  One for doing well on exams, and one for ideas and dreams.  They actually seemed really relevant.  I dream a lot and often tell my host mother or family about them when I can.  My host mother told Ebrima as much which made for a nice bonding moment. 

I thanked him and Isatah.  Eventually we (my host mom and I) made our way back to our village.  It was cloudy, threatening on rain.  I was preparing to bathe after returning home.  Ebrima had poured the prayer water into a small bottle which I had brought back with me.  As I went to grab my soaps, I saw a new termite mound coming up from the ground under my sardine tin holding my Burt's Bees tomato complexion soap.  The termites where building on top of the soap!  Somehow, it just seemed to beautifully sum up my last month.  Especially right after the visit with the marabout.  And I couldn't help but ask out loud, laughing to myself at the same time, "termites like tomato soap..??"

Development... 'A work in(g) progress'

From 19 Aug 13

Some thoughts on the matter of development.  A subject worthy of many thoughts and scores of books already published and awaiting the digestion of the populous.  A matter in which interestingly enough, those that are or see themselves as 'develeped' seem too eager it a duty to carry it out for others (much like myself, in a broad sense, you could say).

What's interesting about 'us' trying to help 'them' a concept that really doesn't sit well with me by the way, this notion of people divided, is that we know hardly a thing about it.

I feel as if we're always just barely scratching the surface and applying bandaids to wounds failing to have the time or means at identifying the root.

Much like an erosion issue we face here.  It was my instinct to guide the village in amassing rock cages to slow the rate of water flow at the base of the hill where it seems damage is the worst.  But in fact, one should venture further up the hill to attempt slowing the rate of water before it even has the chance to reach the deep gullies at the base.

But what one should maybe do more, is stop trying to 'fix' everything while hardly knowing anything.

Organizing leaders and elders of the village to have even a conversation is a good first step.  After all, they are the ones that know the land, what and how it's used, and how it can best be manipulated if need be.  Why hasn't anyone addressed the issue before or how have they tried?  Other good guiding questions to ask before throwing out knowledgeable prescriptions as the 'doctor of all knowledge' you are seen as whether or not you wish to be viewed as such.

These are all lessons I'm learning the 'hard' way if you will, or am realizing after the fact.  But so much pressure can be placed on us to do something.  To spend grant money, to mitor and evaluate projects.  But what if you just don't know the answer and are tired of blindly aiming at something you're not even quite sure of anymore?

Authors have written on this, at least somehow, I'm sure, and NGO's have pretended to apply the new way of thinking, capacity building vs. handouts.  But it seems still now that no one is able to penetrate deep enough to offer a truly utilizable worthwhile project.

Sometimes I feel the best thing we can do is stop 'waisting their time,' which I don't think we're actually doing, by giving our ideas and encourage them to discuss issues and act on their ideas.  That's the goal anyway and what they tell us to do.  But then no one does or says anything, you get bored and tired of waiting and start planting your own seeds.  A compromise I suppose but still frustrating.

To back up; What inspired me to write today was my bra.  A cheap Chinese made number from the local market.  It looked nice.  It looked like it was trying to look like something from Victoria's Secret with little purple dogs on it.  It did the job anyway.  But in less than one weak of wear the under-wire started to poke thru into my sternum.  And the left strap, always popped off so that as I would try to done on the garment, I would have to spend an extra minute or two trying to hook the strap back into the bra causing both annoyance and frustration.  And it isn't just the bras or the underwears or garments that last for a what seems like a breath of a day before they are addled with snags and tears and imperfections from the lifestyle of living in a poor village in the middle of the bush in some small country in Sub-Saharan West Africa.  It's the shoes.  It's the cheap batteries that appear to be filled with black compressed ash as they decompose after maybe a months use. 

Big breath.  Big sigh.  I was glad I bought the bra.  To remember that even though I live in the village with everyone, I'm not necessarily walking in their shoes.  I don't have all the same struggles they have.  I have a nice bra from The Gap that has never given me any problems.  I have Chako's that don't fall apart and if they do the nice people at Chako's will replace them most likely.  I can drink tea in less than ten mins if I so feel the desire from a propane tank and stove top.  Instead of having to collect firewood and starting an open fire, etc etc.

To  truly master a place can take a lifetime.  Many of us on the front lines of international work and development often hardly have more than maybe five years to give at a maximum.  Where posts are often in a city or town and not village (with Peace Corps as the only exception that I know where the post is likely not a city or town but some remote village somewhere).  

I've been in and out of my village for a little over one year now and still feel like I'm just scratching the surface.  It doesn't mean that some projects we try to push aren't worth while.  But I think the point I'm slowly understanding is that the most valuable resources in these poor, often resource depleted countries, are the people and that one oughtn't feel afraid to encourage them to utilize one another.  I don't think even now, I would be given or even understand the full story of here if I were told it.  I'm realizing it's not necessarily for me to master here.  It's for them.  And perhaps the best we can do is pester them to start these conversations.  But even that's a challenge because when you ask them, they have rehearsed answers for you that eat at your very should because you just can't achieve everything on their simple wish list and even if you could, their requests are for yet more bandaids because thinking much beyond their isn't much done.  Nor is it in the Western world to be fair.  Our waste management system, still now, is but a series of expensive and perhaps inefficient bandaids.  At least in most places.

So why rant on something that's likely been said often enough?  Because, at least from what I've experienced and observed, those that are eager to help, for the most part, like me, don't know this until you've lived it.  Maybe you can't..?  But I must for the simple purpose of stating so only, that the ideas and solutions of the most weight, live in and lie within the people.  If it's a problem for 'us' but not 'them' then obviously there is no known solution yet.  But then let's ascertain why the dichotomy of perceptions.

To new and eager vol's, and anyone in the business of these affairs, it is in my opinion, truly, much more helpful to support the people in their solutions towards change and adaptation shall it be so wished by them.  If you see for instance erosion, maybe instead of assuming they know not a thing about it or its devastating effects, assume all knowledgeable until proven otherwise.  And don't let them fool you for in order to appease you and make you happy- they will try to make you seem and feel like the more knowledgeable higher being.  They will purposefully reduce themselves for you without maybe even knowing it.  This is why getting them to step into those roles of expertise is difficult in front of and around your.  But don't let them fool you.  They are well aware of much more than we give credit for.  And we are much more out of our league that we might initially realize. 

But I won't say its for naught.  It is a beautiful most enlightening experience.  But to make it really worth their while, get them to talk, if even just to each other.  And give them the permission to be and do great things.  Understand that standing out is culturally inappropriate and that work done is shared by the community.  But not the whole community works.  But they will all take the credit.  They don't always trust each other.  There's little reason to trust in the earnest efforts of foreigners anymore, and they don't always trust themselves.

Earning that trust takes time but requires nothing more than attempting to know them and live life with them.  Side by side, as much as possible.

From a strictly grass rotts perspective, that's what I've got to say on the matter.  Top down approach is an entirely different matter althought incredibly complimentary and important.  But one I'll leave for a later time.

It's incredibly simple yet entirely challenging tasks.  Don't discredit your effort and don't give up.  Answer the call but just don't answer chalked full of solutions.  Answer with a blank slate an open mind, heart, and sense of humilit and ability to laugh at yourself in the most trying of times.  Have courage to cry when you feel you wish to.  But do answer.  They will love and forever know you, less for your efforts, and more how you made them feel. 

One thought on the matter anyway.

A rainy, lazy day

From 14 Aug 13

I try to keep track, if even inconsistent and vague, of what happens each day on the callendar.  Today, in the middle of the day, after finishing the second NY Times Magazine, eating lunch with my host family, and having not made it more than thirty feet from my doorstep, I surrendered to the 'nothing' day and proceeded to write 'dara' in Wednesdays square.  Thursday's box was full with plans of going to the weekly market and speaking with counterparts in the town there about upcoming projects.  I tried to use the full box of Thursday to justify the empty one of Wednesday. 

It's difficult though.  We're constantly torn in this unique set up where your everday life is somehow your job and so when you aren't 'working' for some, it's hard not to feel like a waste of a volunteer.  That somebody could do better.  That US dollars shouldn't be wasted with me reading magazines in my house taking a day to relax.

As the day went on, I was in and out of my backyard, weeding and uprooting trees.  The small space, approx 10"x13" has at least now eleven trees.  All well and healthy.  Five of the former thirteen were Leuceana trees.  A fast growing nitrogen fixing potentially invasive green buddy.  Last year we tried to plant five in my host fathers farm and it felt like such a victory!  Until the cows ate them...

This year I diecided to care less.  I didn't do a tree nursery for myself but did one with the village.  But the aftermathe of the one I did last year called my attention today, in my 'nothing day.'
I pulled one tree out and thought, after the fact, that maybe it could be transplanted.  They are hardy trees anyway.  I came outside and asked my host family if they didn't want it.  A seemingly more common method of asking using the negative form vs positive, i.e., you won't eat? You won't put on something nice to wear to go out? etc.
 So, my host mother directed me and one of my host brothers to go place it in one of their bathroom areas.  The leaves were already starting to wilt.. well, maybe it will come back?  Some hours later I came out with another tree.  I had tried to be more careful about up rooting it.  This time it was my educated brother, (a teacher) and his wife sitting outside.  I again asked if they didn't want it.  

Lan mooy njerring? What's its use?
Dafa dimbale suuf si rekk.  It helps the soil only.
Xop yi nag? And what of the leaves?
Dimbale na suuf si itam.  They also help the soil.
Baax na nu tegal ci tooli Baay.  Ok let's put it on fathers farm.

As we went out I tried to explain how we tried to plant them there last year but that the animals ate them.  After we transplanted I suggested we try to protect them and suggested more planting throughout his field in the future to provide green fertilizer and stability.

When I cam back I crossed out 'dara,' the Wolof word for nothing, and wrote 'transplanted 2 trees.'  
Sometimes you just need a day to catch up with yourself, your work, and your life here.  Sometimes you just need a day.  But I bet, even when you aren't transplanting, that they aren't just nothing days.  They are something.  Conveniently, the word for something and nothing are the same word, dara.  Those wise Wolof people.
 

Electronical detachment...

Greetings all!  It has been some three months since my last entry.  I have written quite a bit but haven't had the time or effort to put thought to computer screen.  I must be at that point in service where just 'being' sounds much more appealing than dealing with the technical woes of attempting posting anything on a computer with shaky internet and unreliable electricity.  Where 'being' means reading a book or catching up with fellow volunteers or Gambian friends etc.  I'm finding that the more time away from the internet I have, the more I want to be away from it. 

That being said, I will try to catch up by Dec at the very least.  Because I do appreciate that it allows me to communicate my experience and reach out to friends and family and perhaps random but welcome viewers back home or wherever.

But all is well.  It is a few days before Thanksgiving and Hanukkah.  Volunteers have done a lovely job organizing events for those of us in country wanting to celebrate such events so far from home.  It's always a bit harder to be away from home on the holidays but I'm really looking forward to enjoying my last ones with my new-found "Gambian volunteer" family. 

Facing my last quarter of service seems unreal, exciting, terrifying, happy, and sad, and everything else all at once.  I still have several things running that I hope I can focus on til the end as, granted people continue to show interest in them... as:

+Erosion control
+tree nursery establishment and outplanting
+village tree outplanting celebration
+Village health Care Group
+HIV/AIDS sensitization lessons and dramas
and last but not least,
+continuing to build on and strengthen existing relationships, exchanging culture, ideas, and friendship

All to come in following blogs that will for sure be backdated and untimely. 

In the meantime, I wish everyone the merryist and happiest of the holiday season.  I ask anyone to think twice or more times about if they really need "this thing" or "that thing" on Black Friday, a day that supports consumerism, a behavior that destabilizes ecosystem services and thus threatens our quality of life by threatening to destroy the basic elements that keep us alive, namely, water, which it all comes back down to.

Anyway, happy thoughts from The Gambia.  Where we are all just trying.

(This posting took about an hour of unsuccessful attempts before properly uploading)

BeeCause it's important!

 My counterparts, Baay Malick and Malick Seidou.

 Three amigos.

 Her well is fifty some meters in depth!  

A scaly chameleon friend.

BeeCause training part two.  Featuring the man responsible for it all, Balla!  In the training we constructed KTB (Kenyan Top Bar) hives and learned how to make soap and body butter with honey and bees wax.  We learned about measuring and obtaining quality honey with less than twenty percent or so water content.  The training took place in another volunteers village for three days.  Our counterparts got to go transfer bees from the catcher boxes we made at the last training to transfer into the freshly made hives.  Us girls got to try to cool down and relax as there were not enough bee suites.  But don't worry, we've all gotten our suites on and those bees angry before!  Such a rush!

Around the compound

 Learning how to use binoculars.  I wish I brought a pair of these!  With Hoja and her mom, Awa, and Robert.  My short time VSO sitemate.

 Jugal and Fafa.  My sister and brother.  Standing in the corn field.

 Yura.  The youngest.  Very spunky!

 Grr!

 Fanta.  Her mom is in Senegal.  She's been with us for a while now.  Just kicken it.  So cute.

 Awa.  My aunts daughter who has also been staying with us lately to help out.  Compounds are constantly changing.

 

 Baay.  My host father.  Coming back from praying.

 Host mom, Dado, and some of the kids.  Certainly not the best photo faces but it was the brightest.

 Ndey and Maddie.  Mother and son.

 Jama and Isatou.  Mother and daughter.

 Ndey, holding some 25L of water. 

 Baay.  With permission to take his picture this time.

 Maam.  My host grandmother, Fatim.  An amazing and strong woman.

 Our kitchen.

 My backyard, featuring a flamboyant tree planted last year.

 My Leuceana tree from last year.  So tall!

 Gayende, checking out the camera.

 And my bed.  It's looking nice these days.  I have to make it every night and strip it every morning because black stinging ants fall between the wall and mosquito net, somehow crawl under the net or through the holes, and sting me in my sleep!  But this new system has been better, is more open and spacious.  Kind of like a flat in Manhattan now...

People and village picture break!

Gayende liked to play in my jibadah, a mud jar that keeps your water cool.  The jar was pretty moldy so now it's a perch outside.

This is the Alpha I always talk about.  He's one of my best friends here.  He runs this Bitik (shop) in the town nearest me.

My host mom and I showing off our tippy tap.  An old oil bidong (container) fashioned to work as a running water tap for hand washing.  The post has since been knocked over by a horse.  We talk about repairing it.  Someday.  There's a newer easier technology we might try for the next one that uses physics wisely.  To come.  Maybe!

Nalgene, I thought you were unbreakable!  This happened around month three.  It fell off my bike handlebars full of cold water on the super hot pavement going about 10-12 mph.  Another volunteer brought me a new one from the states.  Thanks Mikaela! : )

Just hanging out.  You know, no big.

One of my other best friends, Hoja (left), host sister/cousin, in her compound, wearing my hat.

Baby Isatou.  Maybe about one month old here?  Or so.  She was very very small when I saw her after a week old.  I was very scared.  She's alive and well today and continues to get bigger.  An incredibly strong young one if I may say.

Another kitty in the jar shot.  I think she liked it in there so much because it was cool.

Host mom showing PC herself how to fill the tippy tap.

My friend Maram (madam).  I don't see her in village too much but we hung out on this day when I had a camera.  She is very sweet.

Hoja again.  Looking gorgeous.  She is engaged to be married soon!  I hope I'll still be here to see her wedding.

Another friend, Kayway.  Sorry it's so dark.  I don't visit her often enough but really enjoy her company at site.  I went over there one morning for the first time for breakfast.  I don't know why I was so nervous.  I think the language barrier mostly.  I brought a jar of tea with milk and honey.  And she sent out for bean sandwiches and green tea with sugar (attaya) to make for me.  The hospitality was above and beyond.  Her and her husbands hut is really nice with mosaic like broken tiled floor.  Her husband is really experimental with agriculture.  One of my favorite couples in village.

Another Gayende shot.  Just chillin.  She actually hates the heat.  Sorry kitty.

And me.  With my lovely village look. 

And then the wind blew

(8 July 2013)

Ndey? (Ndey?)
Hm? (Hm?)
It's dark. (Dafa lindim.)
Where? (Fan?)
There. (Fale.)
Yes. (Waaw.)
Do you think the rain is coming? (Fog nga taw mungi dikka?)
Huh? (Huh?)
I said, the rain, do you think it will come? (Manee, taw bi, fog nga dina ñow?)
Rain? (Taw?)
Yes. (Waaw.)
Eh, I don't know. (Eh, xam uma di.)
But, it's so dark. (Waay, dafa lindim torup!)
Yes, it's dark. (Waaw, dafa lindim kaay.)
But only g-d can know it? (Waay yalla mo ko xam rekk?)
Yes, only g-d knows it. (Waaw, yalla mo ko xam rekk.)

Then I was silent.  I just sat happily with Ndey, my cousin, or something like that.  Watching this dark wall slowly impress upon our village from the East.  It's bad luck, or so it seems, to try and predict weather.  But it's something that is such a natural and easy point of conversation.  I wanted to say that I was sure something was coming but I bit my lip and just watched, feigning ignorance.  Every few minutes I would point out how the horizon was getting darker, a bit as a joke.  Then, everyone began to scatter.  They told me the wind was coming as if it was a surprise.  I smirked a bit as I swiftly went into my house to prepare it for the unknown, hoping somewhat desperately that rain was in tow.

I had asked them about rain dances earlier, or trying to, explaining, somewhat exaggeratedly for simplicities sake, that we have rain dances where I'm from because it is also dry there (Arizona) and that rains are important.  I don't think they believed me.  Or maybe it's just so difficult to conceive of anywhere outside of here.  Especially when you've hardly ever even left the village. 

I wished I could have filmed it.  Althought a wind storm or storm in general isn't that unlike other storms.  The dust here makes it a different world though.

It felt like dusty air conditioning blowing through.  The air just before was quite hot and humid and still.  The mixing of such opposing temperatures created quite a stir, literally!  The neem tree whipped around like one of those blow up dancing men outside of car washes or a new music store, dancing hard to impress you enough to enter.  This tree is a solid mass of fixed carbon dioxide, strongly rooted and heavily branched.  Bobbing about like a teen at a rave. 

I was so excited.  I absolutely love storms!  Desert storms are some of the best.  West African ones may be even better but I haven't seen anything top the lightning storms of AZ.  But, these ones can come close.

I was running back and froth from my back yard to inside my house.  Constantly rubbing the dirt out of my eyes.  The coolness was irresistable.  And the sights, like being under water with a brown hazy ocean ceiling.

I started to see and hear my family run back and forth out front.  At first it was just the children playing in the crazy weather.  Enjoying like me.  Then I saw my older sisters.  Something was up.

I looked out one of my windows that just looks out to the narrow path between my house and my grandmothers.  Straw was everywhere.

Shit.  I went outside and latched my outer corrugate leaving Gayende (my kitty) locked inside.  Two huts had lost most of their grass roofs.  Everyone was running back and forth with their belongings in case the rain picked up.  I started to help while trying not to be too much in the way.  It was drizzling on us as we moved things, but only a little bit.  I was astonished. Their houses are really just as full as mine if not more!  Ok, maybe it's the same.  But all of their stuff was just hidden!  Hidden under the straw mattress or behind the cloth curtains.  All I ever knew of these homes was to have the beds, the pans (large 25L basins) and trunks of clothes, some shoes or flashlights, etc.  But these houses, they were lived in.  Like the clutter you find in your mom's or grandma's house from generations of use and love.  It was reassuring in a way.  As well as frustrating, so much to move! 

Fortunately there was a new house with a new corrugate roof to evacuate to.  And also fortunately, the storm was not as tremendous as I had originally hoped.  That hope popped like a soggy sad balloon at the site of the mostly roofless houses that keep so many of my loved ones and their belonginings sheltered.

After we moved as much as possible, and of value, and our grandmother, I returned to my house.  Like any crises, when the crisis isn't mine, I did what any good Jewish girl would do.  I turned to food.  I popped my family some pick me up fresh popcorn.  Then made some for myself before collapsing on my floor.  Surrendering to the almond m&m's and children's stories my mom sent for Words on Wheels (...I have to make sure the stories are good!).

I felt exhausted.  And not because the things we were moving were extraordinarily heavy, or because I had worked particularly hard that day, but because of the weight of the poverty that is life here.

Every volunteer, just about, complains about chronic fatigue.  Sure, we don't have the best beds or mattresses (actually, no mattresses, just foam or straw or both), nor do we live in the best climate or have the most supportive of diets.  All excellent reasons to be tired.  But I think it's a much more subtle storm that moves through all of us, at varying degrees throughout our service.  An emotional heaviness that we bear, probably a lot of it subconsciously, anytime we see the kids too skinny, children and adults wearing rags, deformities, sick people without proper medicine or access to it, houses in ruins, food in scarce and or bland quantities, dirty households, crying babies, children beating each other or moms beating (disciplining) their children, people fighting, and just the visible despair that shows on their faces sometimes.  It's like you can see inside their heads when their counting something or looking at food stores or clothes, just not having the money in the copious amounts they wished.  Their whole spirit slumps, their face falls, but it's much more subtle than that.  You can see it only if you look.  Like looking gently with your peripheral vision.  I think we try to not see this, or at least I did, for a long time.  But I think whether you choose to see it or not, you do and it definitely has an affect that weighs on your soul.  And it weighs more heavier and harder as they become your family, your community, and your people.

I'm almost certain that was the exhaustion I felt after living that minor disaster with them.  It's somehow even harder when their faces are bright, their energy is high and they're never without humor.  And how could it be any different?  If they let it weigh them down, they'd never be able to do anything!  Which, actually happens too.  I hardly feel like I can do anything amidst it all sometimes, and I have an out!

All of us, at some point, and in some way, feel this weight.  It's arguably why so many of us feel for Africa and her people.  Because they are our fellow peoples and their lives and our western lives, are somehow not the same level of living.

But still now, after all this time, interest, action, and aid, none of us have the magic cure.  But I think the solution is simple.  Not easily achievable but simple.  I don't think it's something that the most intelligent engineers, architects, or scientists can discover.  It's that potential, buried in each and every one of us, that just needs to be seen or sparked by someone, to ignite it, and have that person finally feel free and allowed to express it, whatever it is.  It's a trait even many westerners struggle with.  That sense of confidence, ownership, responsibility and integrity of self.  That allowance in your self to be yourself even and especially if that looks different.  These are not always easy traits nor are they always natural.  Society can shape us in a way that makes these even harder to access.  But I think it's that simple faith in self that is going to move mountains.  Nothing more or less.

I drafted this as you can see on the eighth of July.  It's now the twenty seventh as I finally type it.  It's raining, as I type here in the capital city.  Sheets of it.  It's not so windy here.  Not as much as it is up country.  But it's a comforting rain.  A rain of promise.  A rain of hope.  A rain of, Inshallah, prosperity, peace, and change.

Wish you were here

(26 May 13)

There we were.  The three of us.  Maddi carrying a large basin/pan on his head full of various seeds drenched in water, Baay Malick (father Malick) swinging the heavy 12L blue bucket full of cashew seeds soaking in water.  And me, struggling to keep back rather than keep up, conscientiously slowing my pace to keep in line.  Everyone walks at a very leisurely gait here.  Shouldering my black medal shovel, probably the nicest in the village, and proudly donning my Fula farming hat which can easily be mistaken for some Asian rice field wear.  As we walked, that slow gait, I found myself gaining ahead of them from time to time and made continuous effort to pull back, if not just for the effect of the scene.  I wished I could have split in two to run ahead and snap a picture or film.  Or wished you could just see us.  It was one of those moments where you envision your life to be so important that you can see the camera crew out front filming the visually delectable scene for a movie about bad ass volunteers making it work in West Africa.  I found it amusing that my excitement about the whole deal burst into a mental blockbuster.  But there we were, walking out into the middle of the bush towards Seidou's garden.  His scraggly fence made of dry grass, branches, and weeds.  Seeds and poly pots and shovel in our hands.  Handfulls of villagers coming to meet us to help with THEIR tree nursery.  TREES!  They want trees!  Not only do they want them but we spent that entire afternoon (after five for the sake of the heat) until nearly dusk planting I don't even know how many trees- until the poly pots ran out!

It wasn't the whole village working but it was just enough.  Some ten women and five men.  Out there in the corner of this dry and wilted garden.  Filling poly pots, hauling water from over two hundred paces away, digging the trench for the trees, soaking the dirt, and patiently attempting to understand my crazy and grammatically embarrassing Wollof skills, as I tried to understand the perfection of their native tongue coming so fast and easy, without a second thought.  Just working and jabbering.  Mostly about the little things, and about Rohe (me), etc.  I didn't even care.  I was ecstatic!  If I wasn't so tired and possibly dehydrated and more at ease, I'm sure I would have cried fat tears of pure joy.  Here I am giving thanks after it's all finished and they tell me I'm the one helping them, not the other way around.  Well, I suppose, but if they only knew how much I love trees!  And I'm sure they have some idea.  However, they probably don't know that hours before I stood over the pans of soaking seeds (soaking them just helps speed up germination, and shows you if you have bad seeds by the ones that float to the top) playing with them in the water with a feeling that can only be appropriate for describing the love a mother feels towards her child.  So, there's that.

We're coming up here, as they say.  Slowly but surely.  Today was one of those rare busy 'peace corps' days.  One of those days you picture when you're stateside preparing for departure imagining what it'll be like.  You don't imagine the majority of what your days actually are like, trying to simply fill time.

The morning began early for me (before nine) with a mango jam and alternative fuel stove demonstration in partnership with a local NGO, AVISU in the next town over.  Then my friend and site mate came through helping give polio injections with the health clinic also in the town over.  It's always exciting to see a fellow PC in village!  Then the tree nursery.  When even just one of those events would have made a day satisfying!  And tomorrow morning they won't even let me rest- I'm off helping the women scope out potential sites for a garden, and a man, Tafa, in the village over for cashew trees!  My village, where have I been all of this time?  But I'm here now.  If you really want it all, let's do it all.

I'm tired.  Slightly dehydrated.  Slightly underfed, today, given the energy expense.  But am happy.  What a day.  Wish you were here.

A village behind you

(20 May 2013)

I'm not sure I can do this entry justice with words alone.  It's one of those phenomenons you might have to experience to really grasp what emotions the words attempt to invoke.

Things have still been pretty slow here.  Farmers are preparing their fields by burning the remaining dry grasses.  The smoke and dust have declared war on my small bronchial tubes and slightly asthmatic lungs.  Mental white flags and meditated gentle breathing wasn't cutting it so the doctor sent for reinforcements as a steroid inhaler which keeps the opposing forces at bay.

The farmer field school idea has been on hold.  Perhaps still in the reviewing process of the cosmos awaiting approval...

My goals in this short window before my vacation (¡España!) are more realistically thus:

• Distribute new variety bean seeds to selected farmers and for VDC (Village Development Committee) and prepare them to either collect required data or keep in mind data I'll collect upon my return regarding spacing, weeding, etc. (will happen after vacation, July)
• start a tree nursery for the village with the help of the village members including cashew (we did it!)
• begin my own Moringa intensive demonstration bed (also completed)

This last goal was inspired by a volunteer in Senegal.  She lives about three km from the border and near a fairly large town hosting one of the regions largest weekly markets, if not the largest, with the help of friends from home and kinkos or wherever they printed the laminated photos.  She set up a Moringa information booth using pictures that walk you through the production of the leaf powder.  So, with not much else going on, I justified doing a project for myself sinde it'll stand in front of my house and can be used for demonstration.  And intensive bed looks more like a vegetable garden than an orchard.  I'm not quite sure how long it can last so am experimenting myself with them but the idea is that you keep the seedlings cut short to promote more bush leaf production.  You collect leaves, wash them, dry them in the shade (not sun!) then add leaf powder to any and every dish to get some extra nutrients (see prior Moringa post)

I bought a bag of cement and traded it for forty bricks already made.  Was totally prepared and expecting to erect this raised bed myself.  But from the beginning, just stacking the bricks, I had my host siblings insisting their help, even the youngest, maybe ten, who can barely lift a brick was intent on seeing the wall complete before resting.  My host uncle, host moms younger brother who I found annoying and not liking initially because he thought copying my wolof was fun, has been incredible.  He really is a good guy.  I'm really learning to be forgiving, to not take things so personally or literally and to have a sense of humor over some of those parts of me that are hardest to laugh at.  And it feels really good.

Next day was the daunting task of filling the raised bed we just walled off.  I say daunting because the empty volume looking to be filled would take a lot of dirt which was going to be heavy and take who knows how long.  Again, foolishly, something I expected to face myself.  As soon as I begun after my host mom's continued nags about when I'd start, I was finishing a really good book, The Corrections, she started shouting something to the general vicinity and continued lecturing me about now how heavy and hard this work was.  Well you just yelled at me to do it so...!  Soon after her shouts, a heard of young boys and some girls and even little tots came with their empty tin cans, busted bowls, and modified oil containers (bidongs) to help me fill this volume.

I just can't tell you- watching my uncle shovel, and the eager children running back and forth with their little containers.  The three year old with his tiny tin can that he insisted to carry on his head!  And my counterparts for the village bee keeping project, taking my 25L pan from me and passionately telling me it's their job to help me and that I'd done enough because the pan was too heavy. 

As I stood there taking it all in, figuring out how I could still make myself useful after everyone adopted/stole my laborious work from me, I almost cried.  Such a beautiful and indescribable scene.  What a neat dynamic.  How silly I was to think I could do anything alone here.  One of those left over expectations from a life in the states.

I still made quite a few solo trips to my host moms glares and laughter, but we got it filled.  I love how they put the pressure on me about my work.  Roxe, when will you water in?  When will you plant?  Little do they know the watering will be up to them soon soon.  This first bed might fail due to my extended absence but we can always try again.  And hopefully produce some good leaf powder for our food bowls.  Whether they'll use it or sell it is to be seen.  You gotta at least try here.

Amassing work from thin air... or rather, thin soil

Imagine, if you will, being thrown into a community and being expected to help them do great things.  You want to help them do great things and are under the impression that they also want that.  You have some training but most of all are literate so regardless of your expertise you can always read up on something and figure it out.  You’re supposed to have a counterpart.  Some member of the community to help get you established and guide you in the direction of various projects you’ll work on together.  Now imagine you in that community still excited and eager to help, but you have no counterpart, no organization, and no idea where or how to start or even what to start with and who to work with.  Add to it you don’t speak or hear the language of your community members appreciate their sense of humor, i.e., making fun of you, mocking your attempts, etc.

I don’t mean for this to sound like I’m whining.  Although don’t get me wrong, I do and have shed a few tears.  It’s not easy.  One thing I forgot to mention, is that “help” is more commonly interpreted as “what will you give me/us?” vs. “how can you support me/us in these things we want to/are doing?”  As we expect it.

So it’s been a year.  Given my sitch I’m happy to have found the little work I have as at the school and with the two community members with beekeeping (BeeCause that’s important!).  But I’ve had the sinking suspicion that other super stars are out there who I should be working with and I was too scared/nervous to face the village alone to find them.

When the school went on Easter break I decided it was time especially since I just presented on project planning and development at the new environments IST.  I shared with them wise words I’ve managed to read while at site not dong much in terms of project development myself.  Just reading about it.  Which honestly I think is good.  Most, if not all, of the literature stresses to go slow, take your time, build relationships and assess thoroughly.

Peace Corps tasked me with a baseline assessment survey in the first three months (go after five month’s in country) of service.  Again without a counterpart or translator I was unable to thoroughly do this.  I had my community representative host sister/cousin help me interview the village chief, herself, and then was able to interview the principle (headmaster) who I thought could be my main counterpart but that didn’t work as his job is demanding enough but he’s extremely supportive as projects at the school. And then my host father through the help of the principle.  So four out of some 250…

Now I can at least hear the language pretty well.  I had another host sister help me translate a handful of questions (maybe to come in another post) and was just trying to muster the strength to go forth.

My host mom, maybe sensing how difficult this was for me stepped up and took me to my first three interviewees.  Then another two- then I was pretty much flying solo.  Receiving some help from Hoja sometimes.  All that build up to get to this part!

So I had interviewed thirteen and was wanting to call it quits.  Each interview demanding a lot of mental focus and energy which is hard to keep in the heat!  All the answers were the same regardless the questions- I have no money I can’t do these things because there’s no money for fertilizer, machines, or materials.

Then number fourteen reminded me why I was on my scavenger hunt.  How/why had we not met before??  His interview went just like the others until I got to the section on gardening and community help.  He told me how he’s trying to grow cashew and mango trees and that he buys seedlings at the luumo (weekly market) and then that he’s tried to raise poultry and wants to expand with larger animals but ran out of help or resources.  He used to make people translate for him his agricultural papers.  He’s attended workshops and used to be involved with the department of agriculture as far as I can guess- my wolof isn’t anywhere near perfect and Hoja’s English isn’t either.  Although it’s a lot better than my wolof.  Anyway.  This man was the suspicion I had.  I’m getting pretty excited.  Of course I have a hidden agenda with all of this.  Yes I’m trying to find a counterpart and more people to work with that actually want to work with me- have things they need help on etc.  But I’m also looking for a teacher.  Someone willing and wanting to be trained in some agricultural basics and then wanting to experiment and train others.  Ideally I want to work with someone motivated in my own community, someone that is respected and of the same economic status as the other farmers.  Someone who has already the desire to help others.  Someone with the same background and language.  I love to help and am here to help but you know, I’m not a farmer, I did not grow up here, I don’t speak fluently, and I’m a young woman. 

But this man- I ended the survey asking him something I hadn’t felt like asking the others- if he would want to teach the villagers if he had the knowledge.  His answer, yes.  But sometimes I wonder if they’re always just going to say yes.  Regardless, I’m excited.  And definitely feel like stopping now but should press on.

Next steps, shall we get there, is to hold a meeting to reveal the results of the survey and then to brainstorm their ideas on how to address the biggest issues.  Again I’m only hoping that somehow someone say’s something like: Hey Roxe, we really want a farmer field school where you train one of us and then he trains ten more and we experiment with seed variety and other  alternative practices, can you help us in that?

What a great idea, I could say.  Sure, let us talk about how we can do that to see what I can do to assist and what you all can do so that this is an equal partnership.

Then rainbows come down and butterflies and robins start singing and flowers of every color appear… Ha.  I crack myself up.  But we’ll get there, or somewhere.  But that for now, for them, is my dream.  But the most important thing and easiest to forget or lose sight of, is that if I’m here to really help and not just have a crazy cool experience is that it’s not about me or my dreams.  Those mater to me and it’s easier to work within your passion.  But it’s about them and their dreams and my supporting that.  I think a farmer field school would be a great, sustainable and helpful endeavor that could be built upon generation to generation given it’s in the hands of the right people.  But maybe their dreams are of cashew and mango orchards, poultry farms and proper livestock management.  That’s fine too.  As long as they have a dream, an idea, and it can somehow fit within my PC framework and MI research , we’ll all win.