PC Where Breads go to Grow

Change of Pace

Hello all, I hope this finds everyone in good health and spirits! I would normally apologize for not blogging in quite a while but I cannot do that this time.  I have recently realized that this is life now and it seems strange to report on my daily life (despite the realization I will continue to blog in spite of it feeling unnatural). Just as you walk to the refrigerator to get water, I go to tap at the center of the village and fill a 20 liter jug. I use that jug to fill a water filter to ensure safe drinking water. I wait an over an hour for the water to filter. Then I add bleach, which is another 30 min of waiting, which kills the viruses and bacteria.  What takes you no more than 5 minutes to do, takes me about 2 hours.  But that is my new normal and seems strange to have to explain everyday task like that within my blog.  I was looking out the window of a taxi while riding two other Peace Corps friends when I came to grips with the reality of my change. I was looking out on a third world African country with half built buildings and dirt roads in its most propionate city.  And I…I was at home.

‘Change,’ will be the topic of this blog today:

How have I changed?

I came into this experience feeling confident in who I am and a solid understanding of my character.   I felt as though I had done a lot of self exploration in the past with my pervious traveling.  I was confident of my core values and I had high expectations of only improving over my next 2 years of service. But to my surprise, I have changed and I will continue to change.  It is kind of hard to pin point the change but I can defiantly feel it. The way I see things, feel things and I even do things is different.  I have noticed small things like really appreciating breakfast. The walk to the market every morning to get my supplies allows me to wake up and see the village already hard at work.  After I finish eating and feel somewhat satisfied, I remember that not everyone in my small village gets that feeling (let alone in the rest of the world). I imagine I will not really know the extent of it for a long time to come.  I have also realized bigger things like my perspective on life and death have changed.  Now that I am here, it’s hard to image how I couldn’t change.  Everything is just so raw here – I feel so much closer to actually living as compared to cruising right on through. 

I know, I know… I have just kind of thrown around the word ‘change’ a lot and have not really given strong evidence to support it but it’s really hard to explain when I do not understand it myself.  You will have to trust me until you get the chance to look me in the eye and see for yourself.

As I finally begin to feel at home here in The Gambia, the real work begins.  Over the next 6 months I will take part in a bike trek across The Gambia teaching about HIV/AIDS, start a health school for mother about basic health knowledge and begin implementing a national campaign about weaning foods for children. I am going from nothing to a lot of somethings.

The bike trek is an all Peace Corps activity and has been running effectively for the last 2 years now.  The trek is 5 day biking journey cover about 150 km and visiting 4 different schools.  There will be 2 groups covering 75 km each and 2 schools.  The students will take part in lectures, games and interactive conversations all pertaining to HIV/AIDS.  I am excited to bond with other PCVs and educate young students about what is slowly become a problem in The Gambia – HIV/AIDS.

I am most excited about the health school because if done well, it can be a very sustainable project.  Two previous volunteers have conducted this school in other areas of The Gambia and they had been very successful projects.  The basic idea of the school is to educate mother on better health practices.  The topics that will be covered are reproduction, hygiene, nutrition, environmental sanitation, and disease prevention and management.  The project will be competition with a point awarding system based on showing up to class, participation and practical skill use.  My counterpart and I plan in have an opening and closing ceremony to get the women excited out participating in the school.  My counterpart (aka local host country national health worker) participated in one of the pervious volunteer’s health school and has all the knowledge to do it for the second time around. I am more of a liaison between my counterpart and the village and the grant write.   I am very satisfied play those roles because coming into the Peace Corps I did not want to be a do-er. I wanted to be a facilitator.  If I do all the work it is not sustainable because in 2 years I will leave and take the knowledge with me.  If I’m more of a consultant then someone else does most of the work and I just make suggestions to enhance the process.

It has been 6 months – I have a family, friends and work to be done. I am in a very good place right now, both mentally and physically!

A Card Catalog of Memories

There are two things that I really value: a good story and a memorable moment.  My good friend Ricky and I always say ‘life is an accumulation of stories.’  And along with that we are both always in search of the next best one.  As you read that you might wonder ‘so is that what he is really doing in Africa?’  I would be lying to you if I said No because I am always searching for the next great adventure.  I also know if you ask Ricky the question ‘why did you join the Navy?’ he would answer it the same way – for the next best adventure.  We are both in search of life experiences, maybe by different means but both in the attempt of a better life for others.

The memorable moments are of a more personal nature and can only truly be valued by me (but I will try to help you understand my value in them).  They are snap shots in a bigger story that I can look back on.  The moment is so clear in my mind I can remember the smells, the scenery and what I felt.  If I was a good enough artist, I could paint a picture.  I have a card catalog of moments and when I need them, I can pull them up in my mind.  One of my favorites is at the Sea of Galley in Israel.   Another is on a cloudy night in Puerto Rico on the beach.  A third and fourth are in the swimming pool.   All most every competitive swimmer has that one race that they can remember where they almost felt like they were outside their body swimming their personal best. I am lucky enough to have two and I used to draw from them to swim my best in every race.  There are plenty more but I don’t want to give away all my secrets.

This next story is both a memorable moment and an adventure tied into one.

It is rainy season here in The Gambia and thus far it is proving to be a wet one – raining almost every day.  About a week ago the rain was the hardest I had seen it yet.  It created a stream down the middle of my village.  I see my 9 year old brother burst out of the door in his underwear and run out to the center of the village.  He and a couple of his friends are playing and dancing in the rain.  My first thought is ‘I know how bad the sanitation is in my village’ and ‘that water must be really gross.’  But the storyteller in me was like ‘you can’t miss this!’  I rip off my shirt and throw on my board shorts and  I stormed out into the rain from under the dry cover of my house.  I yell to one of the kids “am nga football?” (Do you have a soccer ball).  As soon the football was kicked out into the rain 10 more kids run out from there compounds.  We played shirts and skins for a good 15 minutes but in an African thunder storm that means boys wearing underwear and boys who are naked. At one point the ball is stolen away from me; I just stand there in the pouring rain, put my head back, feel the rain on my body and revel in the moment (think of Shawsank Redemption when the main character escapes from prison)

And that is how great story and memorable moment is made.   I hope this story helps you remember one of your own.

Happy thought travels

And 

Jamaa Rek

Daily Schedule

I thought you all would be interested to know my daily schedule.  By American standards you will probably think I am lazy but by West Africa standards I am living a normal life.  Some days are different like when I have meetings or work at the health clinic but most days look somewhat like this:

730-8 Wake up

8-9 Workout

9-10 Making and eat breakfast

10-11 Relaxing in my house. Cleaning up around the house and washing up

11-2pm Waiting for lunch.  11-5 is the hottest part of the day.  I usually lay under a tree, reading or working on PC work.

2-3pm Lunch

3-4pm Nap/rest inside my house

4-7pm Hangout would some friends, drink atay  and practice language

7- 730pm Shower

730 -830pm Hangout with the family

830 -9pm Dinner

9-930pm Layout look at the stars with the family in the dark

930-1030pm Go into hut write or read and have some alone time.

The Start of a Up Slope

The north bank region of volunteers is pretty much a boys club (8 guys and 2 girls).  When the other volunteers heard that they got 3 new boys, a celebration was in order. It was also a much needed time to interact with other volunteers.  I have come to learn, speaking English and being sarcastic is a crucial part of my sanity.  We ate vegetables and meat, a rare thing in village. We drank sprits and acted silly.  As I sat out on the river staring at our bond fire, I realized this was just what I needed.  A time to decompress and discover I am not the only one thinking these crazy thoughts and understand I am exactly where I should be in this experience. And that is how you turn a down slope into an up slope. [Lesson learned: step back, take a breath and spend some time with some close friends]

By the 3^rd week at site the things I was seeing, smelling and experiencing were not so foreign to me anymore.  If you remember from the first blog post I talked about really living in a place and talking to the old man when I go to the market?  Well I am living that and it is not just one old man it is everyone I pass on my way to anywhere.  In this small village, in the bush, in this country of Gambia I am more popular the Brad Pitt.  Everyone always knows my where abouts, what I ate for lunch, if I liked it or not, if I danced and even when I am talking a showering and sleeping.

Mud Hut to First Home

Taking the time to turn my house into a home paid off.  I felt safe and happy in this 10 x 12 mud hut.  After 2 months of living out of a bag, I could take my stuff out of a bag and put it on the floor Haha. Not for long because my father built me a shelf, bed and a table.  Now that everything had their own place around the room I could start decorating the walls.  I put up some of my photography from my past travels and pictures of family and friends (It’s a big wall and it has plenty of room for more pictures…hint, hint). After rainy season I plan to put some color on the walls and paint some morals. Going through the process of making a house a home, I now see a as valuable part of the learning curve.

Left in a Cloud of Dust

American Waw (I have to specify because ‘waw’ means ‘yes’ in Wolof and it can get confusing when I am talking to the other volunteers if I don’t), it has been almost 1 and ½ months since I had internet access and written a blog. I told you internet would be limited.  It is probably hard to imagine since in the states we constantly have internet access, if not on our computers then on our phones.  The closet town with electricity is 25 Km and internet about 60 Km. It has been surprisingly easy to adopt to and at times enjoyable to live without electricity.  Ask me that 2 months ago and you might have gotten a very different answer.  There is a noticeable learning curve in the whole process of moving to my permanent site.  The first 2 weeks started with a bit of a down slope; the fallowing weeks have exponentially continued to up slope.

Allow me to go in chronological order, from bad to good.  It all started May 14^th:

I was literally dropped off in front of my house with my luggage. The Land Cruiser was unloaded in 10 min and they were leaving in a cloud of dust. I stood there waving as the PC driver looked at me through the rearview mirror.  The first thoughts that came to my head were: ‘…and now I am alone’ and ‘now what do I do?’ I went into my room and just sat there and sweat, both from the heat and the unknown.  It was a bit of a punch in the stomach, coming from a big high of partying to feeling completely alone.  The other volunteers call it post Banjul depression (hanging out with all your friends then going back to slow village life takes a couple of days of readjustment).  It was that feeling plus being alone for the first time in a couple months.   Actually, I was the first time being alone like this ever.  I traveled to Asia, had apartments to myself, and meditated for hours but I never felt like this.   I was here to live with people I did not know, speak a language I could not really speak and do a job I did not know how to do.  You would probably feel the walls closing in on you too.     I said I would be honest and I am not ashamed to say – I cried.  Two days in, a wave of emotions hit me; I sat down on the floor and cried until the tears stopped.   While it is not commonly known fact about me, it is something I do on occasion and a good cry cleanses my soul. The blog header set not false pretenses, this was the first time but it will not be the last.

“Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are the rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried then before – more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.” Charles Dickens, Great Expectations