Compassionate Witness

Amazing

2011-06-20T07:52:00.001-07:00

My taxi brusse ride stopped for awhile last night and when it came back these animals were on top of the van. As we began moving they would sometimes scream. It reminded me of The Silence of the Lambs. Goats have a very specific scream. Like a woman about to be murdered.

As I sat there, looking at the stars and listening to Malagasy soft rock, I felt so lucky to be there. It is like there are several worlds and before I only had seen one.

Back in Madagascar!

2011-06-20T07:41:00.000-07:00

After two months in Niger, one year in Madagascar and then six months in the USA....I am back in Madagascar! I am here six weeks--one month of teaching and two weeks of vacation/karaoke.

It is truly a gift to be able to go back and forth between cultures. It allows my mind to integrate the information from both cultures in a more meaningful way. More to come. But I will say this: the longer I am here (three weeks so far) the less I want to go back (to the USA). There are people I want to go back to, but culturally I feel nervous.

The flow of life is much more natural here, it feels more human and that is something I find difficult to part with.

Motherhood in the United States

2011-03-28T21:04:00.001-07:00

At some point in my early twenties I realized that I didn't have to have kids--that it wasn't required--and since then I have been thinking it over. It was in Madagascar that I decided having kids was for me.........yet after only four months in the United States I find myself feeling afraid of having children. Why the change of heart?

Let's see....

In the United States you have to carry toys, food, clothes, car seat and so on every where you go.

In Madagascar your baby is on your back.

In the United States you are judged if your baby cries for more than two seconds.

In Madagascar babies cry sometimes.

In the United States you must breastfeed in secret because boobs are just too pornographic to show.

In Madagascar you can breastfeed anywhere around anyone as it is the most natural thing in the world and clearly nonsexual.

In the United States you have to explain to your children why you are saying no.

In Madagascar you have authority over your children and no is no.

In the United States you watch your children alone in your house and are a wimp if you need help.

In Madagascar you raise your children with the neighborhood women.

In the United States you leave your child at daycare when you work or you stay home alone with them all day.

In Madagascar you take your child with you (at a fruit stand) and spend the day with other women who also have babies.

In the United States you have to pay for a babysitter and you aren't supposed to rely on other people much to raise your children.

In Madagascar you can expect the full support of your family and friends including free 'babysitting'.

In the United States you can't physically discipline your children you must politely verbalize everything.

In Madagascar you can swat your kids to show them you are serious. (It works too).

In the United States you treat your kids like siblings.

In Madagascar you are allowed to be the alpha dog of your kids.

In the United States kids have adult supervision at all times.

In Madagascar it is OK to leave kids alone with each other even at young ages.

Having kids seems a lot natural in Madagascar than it does in the United States.

Even my cat looks different to me.....

2011-03-14T21:44:00.000-07:00

This last weekend I reunited with my cat Daisy Face. I had not seen her in 18 months. During the ten years that I have had Daisy she has slept on my feet--so we are quite close in that odd cat-human way. One might say that we love each other. Indeed, I have composed songs for her and use a voice with her that I do not use for humans or even babies.

I missed Daisy quite a bit but I think it is now safe to say that she missed me more. Last night I woke up several times to cat kisses (sand paper) on my arm. At one point she was holding my hand (no lie) with her little paw. She refuses to go outside and only wants to sleep on my bed. When I first picked her up from the lovely people who were watching her she ran to me from the driveway dramatically!

She may also be feeling a little bit insecure these past couple of days because I think my general vibe toward animals is a little bit more Malagasy than it used to be. Stores like Petco don't make as much sense to me. I say things like, "She'll eat it if she's hungry" about toddlers, let alone animals. Malagasy people certainly have pets and love their pets but it isn't quite to the psychological heights that we often understand pets in the US. It is a bit more like a farm cat or farm dog.

That said, I still love Daisy Face and she still loves me. It was a very sweet reunion and I am sure our love with only grow stronger with time as I remember the joys of snuggly sweet loving Daisy Face!

Readjustment Reflections...

2011-02-20T22:20:00.001-08:00

They say that readjusting to life in the United States is actually
harder than adjusting to life in Peace Corps. I disagree. I
suppose it is harder if you are expecting it to be seamless--which is
what many volunteers expect. I think it is also harder if you are a
younger volunteer--because you come back and find that your friends
are now in mid-adulthood and when you left they were l playing video
games and cramming for finals. Essentially you are thrown into a
period of life that is weird no matter what (the few years after
college graduation). In my case I am finding this process much
easier, though less gratifying, than adjusting to life in Madagascar.

One important thing to note is that the Peace Corps volunteer fantasy
of talking nonstop about your experiences does not happen. Don't
expect it. It won't happen. And just know that it will be a weird
process full of mind blowing trips to seven eleven. It is a good idea
to have a job and living situation set up before you return to the
United States. I'm sure the readjustment process is harder depending
on how long you are in Peace Corps as well as how rural your post was.
But if you plan a few months to take it easy (not work too much) and
integrate your Peace Corps life with your US life--you'll be fine!

It has been over two months for me and although I still don't feel
normal, I feel fine. It's more the sense that I don't fit in as well
as I used to (and let's face it, I never fit in that well). I'm okay
with that. In the words of Gertrude Stein, "We grow neither better
nor worse as we grow old, but more like ourselves."

What Not To Wear Challenge: Is White Skin Is The Most Powerful Accessory?

2011-02-14T00:05:00.001-08:00

DRESSING SHABBILY IN PEACE CORPS! I FEEL SO FREE! AND SO WHITE?
Peace Corps volunteers, generally speaking, experience aesthetic freedom abroad. We wander around the host countries dressed like shit. We shouldn't. It is considered disrespectful and we just don't realize it. But we do. We feel so free without the pressures of American appearance. We don't have movies, friends, magazines and billboards constantly telling us we need to look this way or that way. Another significant reason we look so shabby is that we are adjusting to doing laundry by hand and to shopping from second hand piles of clothes. This is really a factor. (Most) Malagasy people know how to frip shop and do laundry by hand. Indeed, washing clothes by hand is part of our technical training. I was a very slow learner. It is harder than it sounds. Finally, it must be said, having white skin connotes status in many (all?) countries and we rely on that (whether we admit it or realize it) to counteract our pathetic appearance--if we happen to be white. So like most volunteers, I was pretty shabby looking in Peace Corps. It is all true. The freedom from feeling judged by the US culture aesthetically. The disorientation of buying and cleaning clothes. The reliance on skin color to communicate professionalism (wow).

MINIMALIST LEANINGS IN THE US! WAIT, BUT ARE THESE PANTS A GOOD REPRESENTATION OF WHO I AM?
When I first returned to the US, and to this day, I have simply asked friends if they have extra clothes they want to get rid of. Of course, in the United States, everyone has a garbage bag or two of clothes they don't care about. I have been wearing these rejects and feeling like I look great. My clothes are newish, freshly laundered and so on. I marveled at the laundry machine. It has been two months since I got back. My perception of my garbage bag wardrobe is slowly changing. I am starting to think about how the clothes represent who I am. "Is this shirt me?" No. It is a shirt. You are you. Material goods will never represent who I am nor do they need to. They simply need to function.

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?

It says something that I want to dress more nicely in the United States than in Madagascar. I certainly think the United States culture prizes physical appearance and encourages the spending of money on appearance. This pressure affects all of us. But I also must wonder, who is it that I want to impress here that I didn't want to impress in Madagascar? I wonder, was it a latent show of disrespect that I dressed so shabbily? I don't like thinking that but not liking it doesn't make it false. Even more so, and certainly true, it was a conscious understanding of how much power my skin held. I didn't have to dress to impress. I was white. Being white connoted wealth, education and intelligence. It also connoted snobbery, arrogance and pompousness. Either way--it was nonstop specialty treatment. I am still white but it feels more secondary now. In Madagascar I felt white all day long. Even in my dreams I knew I was white. I relied on the status my skin color. I used it. I totally did. It is rude to use your skin color as an accessory.

Adjustments (To the US of A)

2011-02-13T23:40:00.001-08:00

I can't squat here, it is considered rude. My first week at work (in a bookstore) I found myself squatting--I mean really squatting down to the ground--to shelf the books and I realized that squatting isn't acceptable in the United States. i could just kind of feel that I was doing something culturally weird. You also can't sit on the floor unless you are a child or a teenager. I am short. Chairs are too tall for me. I like to sit on the floor. I like to sit low down, squatting or on a low step. I like to squat. Chairs are smaller in Madagascar. I am smaller too and it fit me better.

It is freezing cold. When I am outside, my entire body seizes up as if to say, "Get inside now you are going to die." I often think of how societies, technologies and cultures have evolved based on the weather. It is something I can consider for hours.

We become outraged if we have to wait but in actuality everything in the US happens very quickly. The odd part is that even though everything is quite efficient I absolutely feel that I have less time in the United States. I find myself running errands that don't make sense but are part of life. For example, I had to reschedule a standardized test I am taking because I was sick and on pain medication (the kind that makes you foggy). In order to reschedule my test I had to go to the doctor (again), get a note and then fax it to the testing center in some other state. Why? In Madagascar I once ran out of money because I didn't realize that there was a 10,000 ariary minimum in your bank account. I was planning to use that 10,000 until my pay day. So there I was--no money and out of food. I met with the manager of the bank and told him I needed the money (that was mine--the 10,000) because I needed to buy food and didn't know about that rule. He puffed on his cigarette, listened to me (probably in shock to see a foreigner in financial distress) and gave it to me. I thanked him. Both were annoying errands--but in Madagascar I was taken at my word. I think a lot of errands in the US are ridiculous side effects of our rigidity.

I took an online personality test for a job I applied to. One of the trick questions was about whether or not you like to nap. I am pretty sure you were supposed to say that you don't like naps, or at least you shouldn't strongly agree that napping is awesome. Really?

The bus is never full. And in Utah people don't use public transportation like they do in bigger cities. It is often considered low class. So there I am on a super fancy heated 40 seat bus with three other people.

In Madagascar I had this delusional feeling that I was more in touch with the poor (or regular) people. I guess when you join Peace Corps you are just picturing it that way--that you will be working with the regular people and not with the people who are 'better off.' For a long time, I specifically avoided making friends with higher class Malagasy people. What misguided sense of reality or duty fostered this I cannot say. I did like the openness it created inside of me--the desire to connect and to not judge people based on their income. I really didn't judge people because they were poor. It felt beautiful and it changed the way I interacted. The judging of higher class people is something I look back on and sigh--because they often reached out to me more, I think because in a country like Madagascar educated people feel a certain togetherness. I see nothing wrong with this now. In the United States I make no effort whatsoever to be in touch with the poor (or regular) people. Somehow in my mind it made sense to me in Madagascar but in my own country I feel distant from people who I can tell are really poor. Why? I am polite, sure, but I feel distant. I judged higher class Malagasy people for distancing themselves from "the countryside" or the more poor people (which, it must be said, was a more compassionate judging than in the US because people don't tend to see poverty as self determined). I judged people for seeking me out because I was foreign and educated. And yet here I am in my own country doing the same thing. How many judgements will it take for me to realize that judging someone is like throwing a blanket on top of them. You only see your blanket. You don't see the person at all.

THE TRUTH COMES OUT.......Peace Corps Journal Entries

2011-02-10T00:47:00.001-08:00

I thought it could be interesting to share some of my journal entries from my Peace Corps service to give a sense of what it is I wrote while I sat at epiceries around the country drinking cold cokes all afternoon. Don't worry, I won't share anything that should make you uncomfortable—I'll keep the extra juicy stuff to myself! Oh, and pay no attention to how dramatic I am. I was born that way. :)

August 21, 2009

I got my invitation. Niger. October 17th. What have I gotten myself into? I wish I was jealous of someone else doing this—Niger. What was I thinking? I'm terrified. I need to do some mega thinking about this. I need to find a way to think about this that calms me down. This is the wildest thing I've ever done BY FAR. This is the grand prize winner for Monica's outward manifestations of her inners. This is totally insane and unreal and unthinkable. And it is 100% totally real. I'm going to Niger in less than two months. I must go and fetch the water, 'til the day that I am grown.

November 16, 2009

When I can finally speak Hausa (the language) what pray tell will the millet woman and I talk about? Maybe I need to stop looking for a friend and start just trying to help because I've been through 18th grade and if I can't do something meaningful with that much education then what on earth is it for? I saw a chariot spider today. It is the biggest spider I have ever seen in my entire life that was not in a cage. And I imagine them everywhere. In my bed, for example.

December 31, 2009

My face is growing wings.

February 21 2010

Today I tried to walk around the town and the smells of the city made me sick. It's ugly to me all of the sudden. Like I am seeing it for the first time. It's so poor. There is garbage all over. There are people everywhere in tattered clothes with no shoes on. This is my new home for the next two years. It's so poor. I fantasize about the United States sometimes. How clean and nice everything is. I had no idea. The way I see the world has been permanently altered. I need to be open and aware so that I can process the million things I have seen in the past few months that I have never seen before. It's overwhelming. I feel like a spy from the first world. I feel like I felt when I left for college—seeing a whole new world and feeling the destruction on my previous world view. Maybe that's why I am shaky because I am between beliefs. I am totally confused. I know nothing and experience things everyday that are unknown to me.

February 21 2010

What am I doing here? Tomorrow I will wake up again. Things will be better.

March 18, 2010

Not much time on this laptop battery. No electricity or running water for me nowadays. Living in a new house in a smaller town, on the outskirts of the city I was just living in. I have been in Peace Corps for almost five months and have not actually worked yet. Not really. It feels weird. The idea of being in the Peace Corps is so much more exciting than actually being in the Peace Corps in some ways. It is a good thing. But I am not helping anyone. Yet? I hope it is a matter of it just not happening yet. There is a leper colony nearby where I live. There is an albino woman and child in this town. When I first saw them I gave them a "we are both white" look and the boy knew I looked at him that way, I can tell he isn't sure why white people look at him that way. People live in houses that are ten feet by ten feet. People are barefoot everywhere. Strangers say my name and greet me like I am a celebrity. Although the other night, while cooking by candle light, I danced to music and felt total joy. I danced around the house in a way that I have not done since I was in early Jr. High. I did ballet moves. Things you would never do if anyone was there. Things that happen when you are seriously by yourself.

March 27, 2010

I can't believe this is my life. It is really not working for me at the moment but I have a special department in my psyche whose primary duties are to talk me out of quitting the Peace Corps. So their committee, as you can imagine, infiltrates any skepticism I feel for Peace Corps. I have no privacy whatsoever. None. I feel like I am at work all the time. Always. I cannot speak Malagasy and it is a problem. I could do so much here, already, I would be working—but I can't talk. I do nothing.

April 13, 2010

I have read many books since I came to my own 'village' in Peace Corps. Yesterday I read a book that was six hundred pages. I am not a fast reader (because I say the words out loud in my head as I am reading) (because I like words). Out of uncertainty about what else to do, and an intense desire to escape my environment, I read almost nonstop. This reading, which reached its apex last night, is excessive to the point of making me wonder if I oughtn't either study literature or become a novelist. I have, of course, never even come close to writing a novel. My writing skills have improved over the years due to academic papers and exhaustive and private journal entries. I have never even come close to creating a character—unless you would consider that character me. And on that note sometimes I think that is exactly what journals are—a presentation of myself as a character to myself so that I can understand what on earth is going on. In other words, I have been reading a lot. Some would say too much.

April 20, 2010

A few days are all I will remember when I am 100 years old. Some of those days will be among the most despairing and devastating of my life. Other days will be sweet candle lit soft smelling memories like snuggling with my dog as a teenager. There will be brightly lit memories too—of 3am falafel in New York City. There will also be memories of my dreams. Things I never did but wished to do. It is this 100 year old woman that I answer to. If I concentrate I can hear her voice telling me what to do.

April 29, 2010

I got so depressed in the capital city, Antananarivo, this last visit there that no part of me wanted to come back to my "town." The imagined stress that return would incur was just too much. And I wasn't wrong. Even in the dark, as the sun was gone, children called to me through my window and scared me to death. "Monica" emphasis moe-knee-kah. I am starting to hate my name.

At this point I do these things in Peace Corps: Read novels (very little nonfiction), pull water from a well, pee and poop in a chamber pot, shower with a bucket in a wooden enclosure covered in bird shit, cook…. I guess it sounds nice but I admit to this day I find almost all of it utterly disorienting.

August 14 2010

This is why I love to move and travel. Since October my mind, soul and heart have—like the Grinch—expanded to the point where they do not fit inside of my body anymore. At ever life stage I see new things because I am at a different level of maturity. It is a blessing that I feel so happy now.

August 26 2010

Today the students begged me to stay for four years so I could help them get masters degrees by being an advisor. I guess they don't really have advisors—or the ones they have only come up a few times a year. Apparently there is a waiting list of some kind.

September 3 2010

The world is as small or as big as I am.

My hope can be silent, shy, overwhelmed, humiliated

It can also be a marching band downtown

I have been disappointed in my intellect and my heart

When they are confused

When they cannot integrate the data sets

Of my soul

And what my eyes simply see

It's too big and too small

Too complicated and too simple

The evolutionary history of planets

The what and the why

My whole self

A traced and trained psychology

Feeling so deeply and so clearly at times

Ultimately confused

I wake up thinking every morning

Aftertaste of dreams

Some times anxious

31 years old

When I was 22 I knew almost nothing

The space between my mind and my experience

Was more expansive than the multiverse

The feeings, so primal, from my upbringing

Were tightly tucked together

Hidden even from me

My sensitivity has peaked, I am more alive now

I can see now the size of my own history

September 13 2010

A guy just bought a beer, opened it, got in his car, took a drink and drove off beer in hand. Ah, Madagascar. The US is so…………..legislated.

(Later that day)

I get to thinking sometimes that nothing matters when the opposite is true. Everything matters. And, the world changes every day. I know I am not brilliant. I know I am just a regular person. But I have education and have been empowered. I have wealth and freedom and am obligated to give back.

September 25 2010

I made a baby cry in the market today. I smiled at the baby and it started to cry. I am certain it was my skin color. Maybe that's how racism starts. Disoriented babies.

October 23 2010

Short term job ideas: African bike tour cook, Antarctica sous chef, something with scientists, teaching English somewhere like the middle east, backpacking tour guide, African or middle eastern NGO, supervisor for study abroad

November 1st 2010

I feel like I could eat a house.

October 8 2010

I never write about Madagascar. So how is Madagascar? Madagascar is good. I feel largely useless here or confused about 'helping' or sharing culture. Is it just my 'white guilt'? I wonder what it feels like to be 3rd world. I wonder. Life is always complicated. No matter where you live or what you believe. Madagascar doesn't need me. Neither does the US. But here I am, born nonetheless with an adventuresome spirit living a life.

October 20 2010

I picture my facebook lists of music and books

I picture myself shopping at target

I picture myself judging republicans

I picture myself

In the united states

Watching oprah at the gym

I have compassion for the woman I picture

But she is a stranger

Forgotten

In the absence of the united states

My opinions are soft now, baby birds

Their roots exposed

My preferences are meaningless now, little buds

My decisions, my divisions, my traits, my personality

Irrelevant now

Simplified, filtered, clarified

In the absence of the united states

My borders are open now

My opinions are like memories

Or half remembered dreams

I had it all organized in the united states

A cohesive intellectual and emotional

Sequence

Everything in its place

Solidified

Now I can't find anything

My judgments feel like paper tigers

In the wake

Of so much

My limits are not what I thought

Like skin they stretch

Pregnant by experience

People will politely ask me someday

What was peace corps like?

I will say

It was neat and I will wonder

Can they see the stretch marks on my eyes?

The knowing that on the deepest level

My only response

My only judgment

My only opinion is

Confusion and awe

Discovered at an epicerie in Madagascar and under a Nigerien sky

My sense that at my root

That is who I am

And that the only feeling I trust

Is love

Malagasy Music Video

2011-01-20T12:05:00.001-08:00

Now that I am in the United States I can use youtube and I found this great music video which was filmed in Diego (where I was living in Madagascar). The island you see was right next to the university and the market you see is the market I shopped at. The dancing you see is the dancing I came to know and love and it is the same dancing I will likely try to employ the next time I am in a dance situation.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ulkcbXDvK0

Enjoy!

Englihisy

2011-01-19T22:53:00.000-08:00

French is widely spoken in Madagascar. Like Spanglish (a mixture of English and Spanish) in the United States, Madagascar has its own unique blend of French and Malagasy.

I was recently wondering what an English and Malagasy mixture might look like and I think it would go something like this.

All we really need to do is make all of the worords longerer and thenenen add some 'y's and a's toa the endsy and it willillillilla have a Malagasy flairairy and styly to it.

I also think there will be a definite need to add the breathed 'h' (surrounded by vowels) into the mihix as well.

Other suggestions?

Preferences

2011-01-10T12:18:00.000-08:00

I have been back in the United States for one month. Only one month ago I was able to be impressed fairly easily by things. If a restaurant had a toilet I thought that was pretty cool. If there was toilet paper I was a bit disoriented. If there was a full sink I would plan to go there to wash my hands. I even had a system of understanding the grades of latrines. When I flew on Air Madagascar I was impressed by the pre-packaged nuts onboard. In short, I was satisfied easily and my preferences were at very easy to please levels.

It wasn't always that way. My first months out of the United States were spent largely feeling nagged by preferences. I wished things were nicer, easier, cleaner and so on. I missed what I had come to prefer. And I had to realize that my preferences were just that--before I left the United States I thought many of my preferences were needs.

Fast forward to my re-entry into the United States.

At first I felt overwhelmed by it all. All of the roads, powerlines, cars, buildings, concrete--and everything is nice. Even McDonalds. Every bathroom is perfect and if it isn't you can be outraged.

But slowly I feel myself developing preferences. I want this type of shampoo. I just like it better. I want this type of shirt. I just like it better. I want this seat on the near empty train. I just like it better. I want this meal. I just like it better.

And then sometimes when I cant have what I just like better I feel put out. Because somewhere in my mind I am already forgetting the difference between a preference and a need. It is something to keep track of I think.

Aside from shelter and food, the only other thing I actually need is love. Luckily I have had all three in Niger, Madagascar and the United States.

As for my preferences, I can accept them so long as they are kept in perspective, so long as I don't begin to believe that they are anything more than that.

I Love America

2011-01-05T19:49:00.000-08:00

It was brought to my attention today that there now exists in the United States something called Dental Spas. In addition to dental work, they massage your head, neck and hands.

The Peace Corps Diet*

2011-01-02T21:37:00.000-08:00

People join Peace Corps for a lot of reasons--most commonly a desire to help and a sense of adventure.   One reason people don't join Peace Corps (that I know of ) is to diet.   However, based on my personal experience The Peace Corps Diet is a rock solid approach not only to weight loss but also to a new perception of food.

In writing about readjusting to life in the United States I would be not telling the whole story if I didn't mention how food and eating has been one of the largest adjustments so far.

In both Niger and Madagascar, I was very rarely satisfied by the food I ate on a 'that was delicious' level.   I was, however, getting all of the nutrients I needed. Because food didn't delight me in the way that I was used to, I did not eat as much.   My bodies reaction to not eating as much (and not eating American foods) was to lose 30 pounds.   No diet, no therapist, no reiki, no hypnosis, no surgery, no positive thinking--just a physical reaction to eating healthy foods in appropriate proportions.   This is not uncommon in Peace Corps for people who have some weight to lose.

So now I am in the United States. My new eating patterns happened out of force and I didn't really think about it much (except to fantasize about foods I missed).   Many volunteers plan out their first few meals in the US but I was afraid of American food. I was afraid I would love it and that I would simply revert back to a lifestyle where I ate too much and where I ate foods that are not healthy.

To my delight the opposite has been true.

I mean nothing rude in this, as I understand it completely, but I can assure you that Americans eat too much in general.   Eating at a regular restaurant is too much.   It is too much food.   Everywhere I turn people are offering me food. Everywhere I go you can buy food. Every meal I am served is 2-3 times larger than I need. Food, Food, Food.

The challenge I suppose is to continue to refuse the gigantic portions in an effort to preserve my health.

My perception of food is different. I see food as nutrition instead of as recreation. The amount of food I eat depends is based on when I feel satisfied and full--not on how delicious the food is. I allow myself to become hungry--and actually have a stomach growling--regularly instead of preemptive feeding as though the experience of hunger is unacceptable. I remember feeling hunger regularly in Madagascar and Niger and it is a normal feeling (I think) when you are not eating too much at every meal.   I can also recall large spans in my life in the US where I never experienced the sensation of hunger at all....because I was so consistently well fed.

I think I always enjoyed being a little bit 'bigger' in the US as a way to show solidarity with women--to distinguish myself from not being the type of woman who is weight obsessed and constantly dieting. This is another change of perception--which is that my health is not a political message. It is my health.   Size may have implications in our society, that is sure, but I cannot jeopardize my own health and call it feminism.

These changes are not necessarily indicative of Malagasy peoples perception of food--rather it is the my US/American reaction to the new diet.   This doesn't top the charts in terms of great things about Peace Corps--but in these first few weeks (especially as it has been the holidays) it has stood out constantly as I tried to eat normally (what had become normal to me) and found that my new eating patterns were totally at odds with the culture.   We always hear that Americans are bigger and eat too much and its true. Our whole culture is tapped into eating unhealthy foods in large portions.   I knew that before but now I know it--and I can 100% see myself as a participant.   I have eaten unhealthy foods in large portions my entire life....wow.   Unlikely lessons from Peace Corps....

*Some volunteers gain weight, it must be said.   Although in my group most volunteers either stayed the same (because they were already fit) or lost weight (if they had some weight to lose).

So how do you re-adjust?

2010-12-19T11:35:00.001-08:00

I am now in the United States of America....and have been for one week. I plan to keep blogging for a little while.

This first week has been interesting. Before I left Madagascar, I did two very important things: 1) I secured a short-term job that started immediately 2) I skimmed a book about readjusting from time spent as an expatriate (cannot recall the title)

I am working at the best bookstore in the world--a bookstore I worked at many years ago. Instead of being overwhelmed by Wal-Mart and other big box stores (which I can assure you are incomprehensible after shopping at an outdoor market for so long) I am simply putting away books and enjoying the second-hand knowledge this fosters. Also, without something to do for a few hours a day I would have more time to just feel "weird" as one returned Peace Corps Volunteer described. She said, "Don't stress out. Sometimes you are going to look around a room and just feel weird." If I had nothing to do all day except browse jobs on craigslist I am sure I would be in a different mood.

I also skimmed a great book which gave some wonderful advice. It said that one of the hardest parts of returning from living overseas is that you expect other people to be endlessly fascinated by your journey AND at the same time you find their lives boring. In other words, you are an asshole while thinking other people are not paying attention to you. "I don't care about your life! Don't you want to hear another story about how it was in Madagascar!" So the book was my intervention and I have been focusing on asking other people what they have been up to. It has been working well. As far as Madagascar stories I do sneak them in in passing. It would be hard not to since it is my frame of reference right now.

As for reverse culture shock, that is happening in its own way. When I arrived in Niger I was in absolute culture shock. Everything was new to me I had to reorganize my entire categorization system to make room for how things looked. It is not like that now. I am familiar with everything. Yet, all day every day I notice things differently. Everything seems so rich, so full of concrete, so well timed, so organized and so mechanical almost. It is sort of like meeting an ex years later. They are familiar but you see them with new eyes. Things do not look the same to me. I guess I choose that comparison because I remember why the United States made sense to me, but at the moment it doesn't. I am more in touch with why I left. That said, I do not feel bitter or angry or judgmental. I feel like I felt in Madagascar. Receptive and confused. :)

Wrapping Things Up and Should I Join the Peace Corps?

2010-12-08T12:31:00.000-08:00

Well Folks, the time has come for me to return to the United States of America. That's right--I will no longer be living in Madagascar.......which has a lot of implications...including..I will no longer hear Waka Waka several times a day. I will also have to start wearing shoes instead of flip flops. No more friend bananas on the street--But I digress--I thought what would be best to write about is my first attempt at a question I will surely be asked for the rest of my life....

Question: Should I join the Peace Corps?

Answer: Yes. I think you should join Peace Corps. I would not recommend Peace Corps to most people but because you are a person who has seriously thought about it—I think you should definitely go. It is an experience you will not regret. You will have 10,000 experiences you would have otherwise not had. These experiences will permanently alter your understanding of the world for the rest of your life--in positive ways if you allow it. And yes, you will get a chance to ‘help’ or ‘work’ but not in the way you are imagining. I slept under the Nigerien sky and woke to moonlight. One of my female students said to me, “After that debate we did, it’s strange, but I am not as afraid to speak up to people.” Enough said.

One Family: It is kind of like love your neighbor but here it’s called it collectivism.

2010-11-30T02:46:00.000-08:00

Our culture is what we make it and our culture is going global. We are spreading American culture throughout the world with our companies and our media. Our business norms, our food, our language, our music, our films and even our porn—are all making their way around the world. One of my Malagasy students lent me The Dukes of Hazard with Jessica Simpson. In Madagascar, I am surrounded by 1980’s soft rock and also more contemporary music (Jason Mraz, Shakira). Those are two very small examples. And within all of these things our culture is reaching the world.

We say that the United States is an individualistic society. We speak of ourselves as independent autonomous human beings constantly. Indeed, cultural researchers have found the United States to be the most individualistic society in the world.

The question I ask myself is this: If US culture doesn’t even work for us (in the US) why would it work for everyone else? In the United States you don’t have to look hard to find someone who is isolated and in need of help.

We don’t speak of culture in terms of desire—we assume that culture is a fixed state: I have my culture and you have your culture. But it doesn’t work that way. The spread of Christianity and Islam totally transformed many ancient belief systems. In Madagascar, for example, animism and ancestor worship are being replaced by both Protestantism and Catholicism. Culture has always been changing. Culture is not fixed and people make decisions every day that determine their culture. In Madagascar, for example, every time a Malagasy person operates by International Business Standards—they are making the choice to adopt that culture. What did you do this morning? What were your priorities? What did you stop yourself from doing? We are all creating culture all the time. Think of it like nurture and nature. We do as our ancestors (nurture) and we also do as we must or can (nature).

So I ask the question: do we really want to embrace the level of individualism that we presently have in the United States? Do we really prefer a model where each person looks out for only himself or herself? Or would we rather begin respecting our elders? Would we like to go back to the days of being friends with our second and third cousins? Would we rather demand two months off a year from each and every job? Would we rather work for companies who understand that relationships are primary? There was a time in the United States when we were more collectivist than we are now. It is our choice what we embrace.

If we did become more collectivistic it needn’t be identical to the collectivism of other societies. It can be our special blend which leaves plenty of room for sayings like Follow Your Bliss and Find Your Passion—and indeed it will have a heavy dose of our favored political system capitalism. But just as we recognize that capitalism has its bounds and needs regulation—we can also recognize that unbridled individualism is not the be all and end all of human existence.

It might seem like an odd suggestion but I personally think a general shift in the direction of collectivism would do us all a lot of good. I love individualism as well—but I think it’s getting out of hand.

We need to help each other more. We need to watch out for each other more. We need to embrace what the Malagasy people call “one family” meaning that all fellow human beings are part of your family—people older than you are your parents or grandparents, people in your age range are your siblings and people younger than you are your children. It is kind of like love your neighbor but here it’s called it collectivism.

When I am not working, I play with chalk.

2010-11-06T11:11:00.000-07:00

Campus Life

2010-11-02T06:42:00.000-07:00

With my students.

Student dorms.

Outside my porch.

One Week Left

2010-10-24T05:43:00.001-07:00

The semester is almost over (well I call it a semester but it isnt
called that here). I have taught four classes since July to juniors
and seniors.

I think the biggest frustration I had was that my teaching materials
were all from an American or western perspective. It would have been
nice to have an intercultural communication textbook that was tailored
to my audience. Come to think of it, it would have been nice to have
a textbook. Even better, textbooks for my students.

The best part was being able to communicate ideas to my students. The
notion of ethnocentrism was really a hit among the students and I
could see them using it in their conversations and class discussions.
It is the kind of word that can be empowering. We talked a lot about
tourism. My students were pro-tourism because it brings money but on
some level anti-tourism because it harms culture. We talked about
that a lot. My understanding of tourism is totally changed, and I
hope they gained something from our discussions as well. I always
pictured myself as a single tourist--one person traveling. I never
considered what the steady stream of people like me can do to a
community. It isnt bad impact, necessarly; but it can be. My
students live in a tourist destination.

One of the most unusual things that happened was when a goat walked
through the classroom. Both doors were open, as they always are for a
breeze, and a goat walked right through the classroom and out the
opposite door. The day that goats in heat were outside the classroom
was less humorous. Goats make some crazy noises. Like screaming
people.

It was also awkward at times when students would ask me to define
words that dont normally come up in a classroom--like the f-word.
They were confused because they hear it in films in so many contexts.
It is a word with a million meanings and contexts. I said it was too
difficult to teach and that it wasnt a word you needed in business. I
also said, to give you a sense of this word--I would absolutely never
say it in front of my mother. I think they got it at that point. I
said it was the "worst" word to say in English. But then a few weeks
later someone asked me about the n-word. I had to eat my words, in
the wrong context I think the n-word could be the worst word to say in
English. Personally.

One day a student had read an article about Hurricane Katrina. In the
article it said something like, "most americans equate poverty with
lack of effort" meaning that in the US we blame poor people for being
poor. The article talked about how after Hurricane Katrina many
people had to rethink their position on poverty because so many people
were put into bad circumstances which were clearly and obviously
beyond their control. The student asked me what this meant and I
explained that he understood correctly--in the US we often blame the
poor for being poor. He said, "Im sorry, I just dont understand. How
can you blame a poor person for being poor?" It is a good question.
I explained to him how our concept of individualism and our belief in
equality make it difficult for us to view poverty as something one
cannot control. We know that people do not wake up one morning and
say to themselves, "I really want to be poor, that sounds like a lot
of fun. Worrying about paying my rent and feeding my children--bring
it on!" But we also believe that anything is possible if you work
hard enough (whether or not that is true, we believe it). So do we
blame the poor for being poor? Yes, I think we do. But we dont blame
the poor children, just the poor adults. He thought I was insane
trying to explain this. In Madagascar, if you are rich or poor, it is
because of your fate--which is directly linked to your ancestors and
to God.

I definitely think that I succeeded in giving the students the
vocabulary to describe their intercultural experiences and to describe
their culture. We learned about all the ways in which cultures differ
(values, communication, power, history, etc). This is really useful
because we often think people are rude or strange when really they are
just obeying the rules of their own culture. It was fun to share with
them stories about my Malagasy culture shock, "Really, are you going
to serve me more rice!" They liked to hear what it was like from the
outside looking in. I also had students talk about Malagasy culture
nonstop. I think this is useful in a lot of ways--partly because
culture can be invisible if you dont think about it. This is less
true in a country where you have such strong influences from tourists
and Western media--but it is still true. I also liked having the
students express their culture because they are afraid it is being
lost due to outside influences. We had a lot of conversations about
that which I think was useful.

For the last week of classes I will do a review of what we have
learned, possibly make tortilla chips and salsa for the class (if I am
not too lazy) and screen The Great Debators. I will also be sure to
give a little thank you speech and say something like, "Thanks for
sharing Malagasy culture with me even though I am a vahaza!"

In honor of my one year peace corps anniversary, I present the following essay...

2010-10-23T03:20:00.001-07:00

Nationalism by AC Grayling

Nationalism is our form of incest, is our idolatry, is our insanity.
`Patriotism' is its cult. - Erich Fromm

"Nationalism is an evil. It causes wars, its roots lie in xenophobia
and racism, it is a recent phenomenon - an invention of the last few
centuries - which has been of immense service to demagogues and
tyrants but to no one else. Disguised as patriotism and love of one's
country, it trades on the unreason of mass psychology to make a
variety of horrors seem acceptable, even honourable. For example: if
someone said to you, 'I am going to send your son to kill the boy next
door' you would hotly protest. But only let him seduce you with 'Queen
and Country!' 'The Fatherland!' 'My country right or wrong!' and you
would find yourself permitting him to send all our sons to kill not
just the sons of other people, but other people indiscriminately -
which is what bombs and bullets do.

Demagogues know what they are about when they preach nationalism.
Hitler said, 'The effectiveness of the truly national leader consists
in preventing his people from dividing their attention, and keeping it
fixed on a common enemy.' And he knew who to appeal to: Goethe had
long since remarked that nationalistic feelings 'are at their
strongest and most violent where there is the lowest degree of
culture'.
Nationalists take certain unexceptionable desires and muddle them with
unacceptable ones. We individually wish to run our own affairs; that
is unexceptionable. Most of us value the culture which shaped our
development and gave us our sense of personal and group identity; that
too is unexceptionable. But the nationalist persuades us that the
existence of other groups and cultures somehow puts these things at
risk, and that the only way to protect them is to see ourselves as
members of a distinct col¬lective, defined by ethnicity, geography, or
sameness of language or religion, and to build a wall around ourselves
to keep out 'foreigners'. It is not enough that the others are other;
we have to see them as a threat - at the very least to 'our way of
life', perhaps to our jobs, even to our daughters.

When Europe's overseas colonies sought independence, the only rhetoric
to hand was that of nationalism. It had well served the unifiers of
Italy and Germany in the nineteenth century (which in turn prepared
the way for some of their activities in the twentieth century), and we
see a number of the ex-colonial nations going the same way today.

The idea of nationalism turns on that of a 'nation'. The word is
meaningless: all 'nations' are mongrel, a mixture of so many
immigrations and mixings of peoples over time that the idea of
ethnicity is largely comical, except in places where the boast has to
be either that the community there remained so remote and disengaged,
or so conquered, for the greater part of history, that it succeeded in
keeping its gene pool 'pure' (a cynic might say 'inbred' ).

Much nonsense is talked about nations as entities: Emerson spoke of
the 'genius' of a nation as something separate from its numerical
citizens; Giraudoux described the 'spirit of a nation' as 'the look in
its eyes'; other such meaningless assertions abound. Nations are
artificial constructs, their boundaries drawn in the blood of past
wars. And one should not confuse culture and nationality: there is no
country on earth which is not home to more than one different but
usually coexisting culture. Cultural heritage is not the same thing as
national identity.

The blindness of people who fall for nationalistic demagoguery is
surprising. Those who oppose closer relations in Europe, or who seek
to detach themselves from the larger comities, to which they belong,
do well to examine the lessons of such tragedies as the Balkans
conflicts, or - the same thing writ larger - Europe's bloody history
in the twentieth century."

The Peace Corps Rollercoaster

2010-10-03T08:33:00.000-07:00

It is common knowledge in Peace Corps that every volunteer experiences “highs and lows.” Of course, all humans experience this—but in Peace Corps it is somewhat exaggerated possibly because you do not have your usual support system or culture to fall back into. You can be ready to quit Peace Corps in the morning and more committed than ever in the evening. A couple of days ago I experienced this observable fact.
LOW

In my intercultural communication class a few days ago I was teaching the concept of ethnocentrism and ethnorelativism. I described the stages of cultural understanding that many people go through as well as the stages of culture shock.

THE ETHNOCENTRIC STAGES: First, there is denial where the person has no true understanding of cultural differences and simply assumes that their culture is the best and most natural way of life. Then we have the defensive stage. In this stage the person becomes aware that other cultures exist but feels threatened by them. In this stage the person is defensive and antagonistic towards other cultures. They realize that there are other ways of living life but they clearly feel their way is best. Then we have the minimizing stage. In this stage the person, in order to curb their growing confusion and possible fear, reduces cultural differences to being trivial. This person says to herself, “People are all the same, culture isn’t really a huge thing.” All of these above stages can be described as ethnocentric. Meaning, your ethnicity/culture/way is seen as the center—seen as not only different but superior.

THE ETHNORELATIVE STAGES: The next stage is the acceptance stage. In this stage the person begins to recognize culture as deep and meaningful. This person does not change their behavior but has changed their mind—they acknowledge cultural differences and they experience genuine interest in culture. Then we have the Adaptation stage—in this stage the person modifies their behavior to the other culture. They are able to ‘adapt’ to new cultural situations with some ease. And the final stage is Integration. In this stage the person is so deeply affected by the other culture it becomes part of who they are. They integrate aspects of the new culture with their existing culture. Both (or more) cultures become part of who they are. They can move easily between cultures and do not experience feelings of superiority or inferiority. These are all stages of ethno-relativism—seeing your culture in relationship to other cultures and without a perception of superiority or inferiority.

So, I explain all of this to my class. We discuss where Malagasy people tend to fall. It is decided Malagasy people fall all along the spectrum. We discuss tourists. It is decided that generally tourists are in the “honeymoon” stage of culture shock and rarely proceed into deeper stages of ethno-relativism. Then we discuss the foreigners who live here. This was disturbing. Everyone agreed that they see stage one and stage two—but stage three onwards they said was likely, “Less than one percent” of foreigners who live here. I said, “That makes me sad.” Then a student asked me which stage I was. I said I wasn’t sure and that because my Malagasy language skills are so poor I felt that my true integration was hindered. That said, I (naturally) claimed a higher stage—I said, “Acceptance and adaptation, I hope.” Another one of my students laughed and said, “No, I think you are stage two.” The Defensive Stage. In that moment, it appeared unanimous that the class viewed me with the 99% of foreigners who never really integrate or develop a deep understanding of culture.

HIGH

That same night, feeling certain that all of my students perceived me as a misguided and pompous foreigner, I begrudgingly attended a debate session I had organized earlier in the week. In another class, my students really enjoyed our in class debates so we decided to do a public debate. I arrived early and found the debaters (who volunteered to do it for no academic reward) all dressed up with giant smiles on their faces. They were so excited—they were reading over their cases and there was energy in the air. We set up the debate and I gave them a final pep talk. They did an excellent job—they were prepared, clear, organized and intelligent. The people who came enjoyed the debate as well and the head of the school was pleased. He suggested we try to televise the debates at some point. After the debate, one young woman who I have noticed to be particularly motivated and bright asked the head of the department if they could start a debate team. She loved the experience of doing a public debate. You could see it in her eyes—and come to think of it, in class she is always the one who begins her comments with a polite, “I disagree.” The debaters were so engaged it made me feel good that I facilitated the moment.

So there you have it, in one day I was moved almost to tears twice: once because I felt like a colonizing jack ass and once because I felt like I had nurtured the intelligence of four young women. That night, while I was cooking rice and chopping up garlic and tomatoes—I marveled at how emotionally intense a day at work can be.

Northern Madagascar

2010-09-30T05:26:00.000-07:00

Music is Culture

2010-09-23T06:32:00.001-07:00

Sometimes as a teacher you have to recognize that it is time to spice things up in the classroom. That is why a couple of weeks ago, in my intercultural communication class, we discussed Music and Culture. We had already discussed (for days and days) Malagasy and American cultural values, so it seemed to me time to analyze some music through that lens. I had the task to choose some songs which I felt were good examples of American values and culture.

Frank Sinatra, My Way

I played the song and handed out a few copies of the lyrics. Immediately all of the students recognized how individualistic this song was. Of course, they liked it (who doesn't?!?!). I explained to them it is a popular song--indeed that most Americans love singing to this song imagining ourselves as living our lives MY WAY. We also discussed the theme of competition that is implied in the song.

NAS, I Can

With this song I talked about African American Culture. The students were interested to see that in African American culture there appeared to be a stronger tie to ancestry (which is huge in Madagascar) and
history. Also, they quickly pointed out the individualism inherent in this song and the optimism has an American ring to it. I can do whatever I want if I work hard! This song could not be more clearly
American and African American. We had a great discussion and learned a lot of new vocabulary works. It was decided right then and there that African American culture is an interesting blend of collectivism and individualism.

Garth Brooks, The River

A few students already knew this song. Country music is popular in Madagascar. We had a good time discussing the metaphor of the river and the shore and so on. The students quickly pointed out that this
song is a good example of how Americans typically embrace risk taking. They also said, though, that there are a lot of Malagasy songs which embrace the idea of having a dream.

Then it was their turn. About 12 students shared a Malagasy song. We all listened, they sang along a bit, and I tapped my toes like the dorky teacher that I am. Students explained how the songs related to Malagasy culture. There were songs about respecting elders, songs about community bonds, songs about people who leave Madagascar or abandon the Malagasy way--It was so interesting for me and I learned a lot. Wish y'all
could've been there.

TOP TEN ADJUSTMENTS TO UNIVERSITY ENGLISH TEACHING IN MADAGASCAR

2010-09-23T06:22:00.001-07:00

1. Using chalk. At the end (and in the middle) of every class my
hands, shirt and pants are all covered in chalk. And presumably my
rear end. I don't know for sure, but it seems likely that the chalk
I am using here is actually messier and dustier than chalk in the US.
It is as if a light snow covers each and every class.

2. Speaking English to ESL speakers. I am really good at speaking
English as a second language—that is to say I speak easy words if I am
knowing it is better for other person. I can listen to the words
they do and do not know and modify my vocabulary, and my tense,
accordingly. However, in my university classes I have to speak
proper English in an effort to model it. This is difficult for me
because I know that if I used my normal ESL they would understand me
more. But alas, I am supposed to be showing them the 'right' way.

3. Slow internet. Normally, I use the internet to double check facts
when I am preparing lectures—and in some cases to learn missing facts.
The internet here is so slow here that I often play 5-10 FreeCell
games before a page uploads. I play FreeCell between uploads because
if I don't I get irritated like I am stuck in traffic. The internet
here is also a very mysterious thing—sometimes it works and sometimes
it doesn't. Sometimes it is simply a slow connection while other
times I can wait an entire hour only to have absolutely nothing load.
They say that children raised in alcoholic homes develop irrational
belief systems about life because they are trying to create order out
of chaos. It could be said that the alcoholic internet here is making
me equally superstitious. I often attribute the slow connection to
the number of clicks I make, the speed of the wind outside, the time
of day or whether or not I play FreeCell.

4. Electricity blackouts. Not unlike the internet, sometimes the
electricity just doesn't work. In the US this happens too but it is
generally related to a major storm. Here the weather can be perfect
when it happens. There is no clear rhyme or reason—and I think it is
safe to say that an electrical line was not harmed during road or
building construction. So, sometimes I can use my laptop in class
and sometimes I cannot.

5. Copies. In the US I try to conserve copies for abstract and
environmental reasons. Here it is related more to the fact that the
entire department is using one small printer. In addition to this I
recognize that the cost of an ink cartridge in Malagasy Ariary (the
currency) is extremely expensive. So, I print one copy for myself
and then write it all on the board.

6. Defining English Words. Off the top of my head every day I must
define English words. The problem is this: I really like words and
I think about them too much. I am the type of person who will stop
mid-conversation and search for the perfect word. Even a thesaurus
is an interesting book for me—I can look at the related words and have
a whole conversation about how they are and are not similar to the
original word. Nuance. Context. Connotation. Language is truly
an amazing and complex thing! You can imagine the dramatic classroom
pause when asked to define "internalization" "encounter" "mystery"
"bastard" and "endemic". Sometimes it is difficult to explain because
I am searching for the easiest way to understand the word. And
sometimes, like an idiot, the only word I can think of is the word
itself. "Encounter. To encounter. It means….when you encounter
something." Sometimes the word takes me on a new journey. "To
externalize. To make something happen outside of its original
location. Outside. External. Internal, opposite. There are many
contexts for this word. A company can externalize its costs. A
government can externalize its costs. Let's talk about the global
economy and environmental degradation in the developing countries."
Needless to say, it may very well be only in my own mind that I am
teaching—because I am not speaking ESL and they are probably just
nodding politely. Teaching English is also a great way to realize
how much I do and do not know about my language. I cannot explain
grammar in any meaningful way. And oddly, I know the historical
context of quite a few words. And finally, there are a lot of words
that I consider so intrinsically themselves I can barely define them.

7. Teaching Culture. I am in a position of teaching intercultural
communication to a class made up of Malagasy students (and one from
Comoros). I am the only American in the room and they all share the
same overarching culture. Normally when I talk about intercultural
communication I have the secret goal of helping students to be more
open, more respectful and more receptive of other cultures. Put
another way, I like to challenge the belief that my way is the right
way. Put yet another way, I know y'all are American but sometimes
considering the validity of other countries and cultures is just the
right thing to do. So now I am in a country which has been exploited,
ignored and abused by foreign cultures. I still want to foster
'world peace and friendship' (Peace Corps Citation) of course, but the
Malagasy people have been understanding, receptive and respectful.
Indeed, it may even be the case that less receptiveness to outside
forces is in line. I don't really know—but I do know that aside from
refusing slavery (awhile back) the Malagasy people have been fairly
open to foreigners. Hm. This reminds me of Native Americans and
Thanksgiving dinner which was rewarded by small pox blankets and the
trail of tears. The truth is, historically speaking, being nice to
Europeans doesn't seem to get non-Europeans anywhere except for dead,
exploited or assimilated. But, that's all in the past. Right? For
those of you who think I am insane—don't worry. I promote 'world
peace and friendship' in the classroom. I just do it while asking a
lot of questions about Madagascar and Malagasy culture. I feel that
my sincere interest and respect is the only thing I can offer. And I
make it very clear that intercultural communication is about cultures
respecting each other. It is a two way street.

8. Office Supplies. I have one stapler and it is full of staples.
I use it sparingly. I have never seen staples in Madagascar. I know
they must exist but I don't know where you would buy them and the
chances are that as an imported good they are probably very expensive.
I reuse envelopes until they break. There is no Office Max and
there is no free supply closet. It is one of those things where
instead of being a problem—it simply makes me realize how much I
normally waste.

9. Time. Class starts at 7:30am every morning theoretically
speaking. One of my students has the key to the classroom. On
average I would say that the key holder comes around between
7:30-7:40. The rest of the students arrive by 8:00am. So, instead
of finding this irritating I have started showing up for class ten
minutes late. It's like being a student again! And I figure, when
in Rome. The way I see it, if we all keep coming later and later
eventually we won't even have class we can just meet for a few minutes
and exchange pleasantries. Just kidding.

10. Teaching without a class set textbooks. Or even a textbook for
myself. I have manuals which have been pieced together into an actual
course.

Things

2010-09-23T06:12:00.001-07:00

I thought I would take a moment to write about some things that I
thought I needed before I joined the Peace Corps. One of the most
common things people said to me when I left was about things. I
couldn't live without this or that. I won't pretend that it is easy
to get used to not having things. It isn't. Many an afternoon I have
done nothing but fantasize about things. Truthfully, I have missed
things as much as I have missed people. But I have had the
opportunity to live without a lot of things—and that has been
priceless.

In the US it is easy to develop strong preferences for things, or ways
of life, and to erase the word want from our vocabulary. I often
believed that I needed things when I simply wanted or preferred them.
Electricity, running water, television, freshly cleaned
clothes-towels-sheets-straight out of the dryer, my own seat on a bus,
a wide variety of foods, certain foods, foods made certain ways,
running shoes, clothes that fit me, clothes that I find cute, hot
water showers or baths, Kleenex, a closet of clothes, more than one of
everything, something new when the old thing works fine, special
toiletries, air conditioning, heating, news, current music or films,
washing machines, microwaves, diet coke, a car, cheese, a decorated
house, a comfortable bed, 7-eleven, TJ Maxx…

Right now I live in a bedroom with a bathroom. I share one set of
dishes with about six people. I have one towel and one sheet. I use
the same soap for everything. I wash and dry my clothes by hand. I
cook all of my meals from scratch. I have about five outfits. All of
my belongings fit into three bags—plus my guitar.

The list above might sound like a list of things I miss but it is
really a list of things I thought I needed—things I have realized were
simply preferences. I need food, shelter and love. Luckily I also
have electricity and running water and a laptop for music and films.
But I don't need it. I didn't have these things in my last house and
I settled into a different routine—a routine where the sun had more
control over my sleep schedule.

I don't mean to suggest that Malagasy people, or Nigerien people,
don't want or need things—that we as Americans can be passive knowing
that things are not the answer. I am not suggesting that we can
relax in knowing that poverty is no big deal. Indeed, a 'thing' like
running water (if it is clean) has health ramifications we rarely
consider in the United States as does consistent electricity. I am
only speaking of the experience I am having—the experience of living
in a rich country and then living in a poor country.

Part of what I am trying to say is that finding myself in a new
context has given me the opportunity to see myself beyond my
superficial preferences. To observe that I really don't need what I
thought I needed. To observe that my deepest needs, beyond food and
shelter, are not met by objects and never will be. Objects may be
fun but they can also be a prison. Sometimes your possessions
possess you—financial and psychologically.

One of the first things I realized in Peace Corps was what I had done
in the past for recreation—because I had to create new forms of
entertainment. I realized that one of the main things I did for
entertainment was shop. I know I am not the only American for whom
this is true. And I didn't even think of myself as a big shopper.
But many Saturday afternoons, it is what I did. I bought things and
it made me a little bit happy for a little while. Here I shop for
food but the 'rush' of buying something is rare here. Occasionally I
feel it—though I can't recall the last time. Perhaps when I find
something outrageous at the frip (where you buy clothes—like
Goodwill).

When I return I will probably be completely indulgent for awhile if I
can contain my reverse culture shock. I will likely just wallow in
all of the things. Buying clothes in the right size, new
clothes—wandering around grocery stores with my jaw on the floor.
Aisle after aisle of foods, things, products—all there ready and
packaged up for me to buy buy buy buy buy. And I shall buy!

But I predict a Saturday afternoon, where I don't want to shop for
fun. I predict an afternoon where I want to feel alive and have
experiences. An afternoon where I want to make soup from scratch
with ingredients that are organic—not because they are from a special
store—but because unnatural foods haven't penetrated the society. I
predict a day when all of the comforts and preferences won't comfort
me at all. On that day I will miss simply feeling alive—a feeling
that having or buying things imitates but cannot truly provide.

Student Blog

2010-09-23T04:13:00.000-07:00

http://www.malagasyculturalvoices.blogspot.com/

My students and I have put together a blog in an effort to educate people about Madagascar. Please take the time to read over their writings. The blog is based on writings from two classes.

It began because after a few rounds of assignments I thought it would be fun, and beneficial for other people, if we published their writings. The students agreed that it was a lot more fun to write a paper when you know more than one person will read it.   So the blog was born.

I hope you enjoy it and we will try to keep posting things in the coming months as well as during the next academic year which begins in March 2011.   There is a four month break from November-February so there will likely be no new posts during that time.

Please share this blog address with anyone you think would be interested!

My Class

2010-08-29T07:32:00.000-07:00

BREAK THROUGH (ODE TO THE MALAGASY READER IN THE US)

2010-08-21T14:43:00.000-07:00

One of my comments said that I had a reader who was a Malagasy person living in the United States. Simply knowing this impacted me. I have had this in my heart for awhile now. I am so happy to have such a reader--yet feel obligated in a more profound way to tell the full story of what it is like for me to experience Madagascar.

After ten months away from the United States, I am pleased to announce:

I give up. I am receptive. I am open. I get it. I am now here.

The post I wrote about not liking Malagasy food or music sat with me like a meal that was too big in my gut. I felt guilty and beligerent.

And now I can say, finally, that my culture shock is at least in a new state.

I am still an outsider. I will always be outside of Malagasy culture--because I am not a Malagasy person...I cannot change my history, my identity, my nationality, my skin color, the origin or my ancestors...

Yet I finally feel comfortable.

I can tell this because instead of obsessing about how it will be when I return to the United States I find myself curious instead about how I will return.

Truthfully, I can't imagine being in the US. I cannot imagine NOT living in Madagascar.

It is like a fairytale to me now--the US.

It is like a dream I wake up from Saturday morning. Freeways.

I am finally here. In Madagascar.

I make homemade soup. For breakfast. I chop vegetables and create food from scratch for every single meal.

I teach my classes. I teach words and ideas.

I walk around Diego. Last week I got punched in the arm by a crazy woman. She ran up to me, stopped in front of me, and punched my arm much harder than my brothers every did (when they made me name ten candy bars before they would stop). It hurts for two days. And for me it was the most natural thing in the world.

I have accepted it all.

I live in Madagascar. It is familiar. I know where to buy eggs and vegetables. I know where I work. I know.

It is finally second nature. And it is still interesting to me. But it is no longer taxing.

And I still don't like Malagasy cuisine--but I do love the wide range of organic vegetables I cook with every day. And I do like Malagasy music. I am just jealous of how everyone else knows how to dance and I don't. It is like being in Jr High all over again--watching the other kids dance and not knowing how.

I am sorry I said I don't like the food.

In the US we eat for pleasure. In Madagascar, you eat for life. Food is different. True Malagasy food fills up my stomach and it is only the American in me that wants more than that.

In the US I will miss the pace.

I will miss how things start when the start NOT when they SHOULD start.

I will miss how I can just talk to people and relax and now that if I am "late" for my next meeting it is OK because time is a flexible thing--

I will miss everything. I will miss it all for the rest of my life.

The colors. The way homes are built. The bugs in my shower. The rush of joy when a faucet produces water. The feeling of euphoria when a light switch works. The comfort of a foam matress. The special feeling of sleeping inside of a mosquito net--a little fortress for nighttime. I will miss the smiles. I will miss the air. I will miss the smells. I will miss the clothes. I will miss the children. I will miss how it feels to be grateful. I will miss how it feels to be useful.

People I meet in Madagascar often ask me to tell people in the US about Madascar. They ask, "Do people in the US really think that only animals live here? Do they really only know about Lemurs?" They ask, "Do they only know the Disney Movie?" They ask, "Tell people about us. Tell people we are here."

And I say yes.

People are here. A culture is here. A culture so vast that the truth is, from an American perspective, it is hard to return to my origin. People live here and in addition to caring about endemism they also carry pride about their traditions and culture.

I am changed not only by my witnessing of poverty--but by my witnessing of another way of life. A totally acceptable way of life. Imagine that--another way of living life. A totally different framework for understanding the universe, relationships and life that is totally acceptable.

That is yet another gift I have received. The ability to grasp the fact that there are many ways to live life--all of which are acceptable, meaningful and worthwhile.

You cannot measure quality of life by wealth.

To assume that "third world" countries are less sophistocated culturally and intellectually is perhaps the biggest mistake of the "1st world". Paved roads are no indication of cultural or intellectual sophistication.

My opinion: we ( Americans ) need to listen more to people and less to dollars. Developed countries are not better. Undeveloped countries are not worse. It was a technology race of the past. Nothing more. Europeans could have just has easily lost the race. It just happens that they didn't. And it just happens that my ancestors were European.

Respecting culture is respecting the way in which other human beings understand the world. It is informative and invaluable. There is so much to learn. There is so much to learn if we can listen.

Breakthrough.

the tip of madagascar

2010-08-02T08:44:00.000-07:00

It is windy season apparently so all day and night you can hear the wind. It is loud and strong enough to sound like waves. At first I thought it was neat. Now, after three days, I think it is foreboding. It makes me a little bit nervous in a way I can't quite describe. From my balcony I can see the bay. It is the second largest bay in the world. My dorm room is very nice.....I have a freezer, a shower and a flushing toilet. I also have five dogs out back to want my left overs (when I give it to them, though, I am just a bit nervous that they will eat ME once they get their little appetite going)...and they have so many injuries I want to give them the medicine from my Peace Corps med kit. Sometimes it is easier to have empathy for dogs than people. That probably sounds ridiculous--but in truth I have always been this way not just in Madagascar. And that's easier, not more important.

Diego is a very nice city. The houses are colorful as they are made out of pieces of tin whose colors span the rainbow. People wear large pieces of cloth as coverings (think sarong). There are just enough foreigners, or tourists, that so far people don't stare at me like I have an ear coming out of my forehead. So I dig that.

The university is not what I was expecting. I guess it looks like an university. A lot of the buildings are abandoned and all are in some form of disrepair. I don't want to give a rude description of it all--but just know that universities and community colleges in the US are 1,000 times nicer than this. So be grateful I guess. Or just enjoy the cafeteria. Up to you. I guess I figured the universities here would be nicer--since they are the top of the educational system. So it is yet another wake up call for me.

I have a feeling I will be even more annoying for the rest of my life in the sense of recognizing how nice things are in the US. I have told my niece before I even joined Peace Corps that most kids, especially girls, don't get the education she is getting. She of course did not roll her eyes at me and as usual either agreed with me or humored me. It's a bit like, "eat your food, children are starving" but I can't help it. When you know how lucky you are it's hard not to hold that in your awareness. When I worked at a high school in New Mexico for a year I was amazed at how irritated students were with school. How annoying, they say, I have to learn about biology. How stupid, they say, I have to watch a documentary. But secretly they enjoyed it because how good does it feel to know you are intelligent and to enjoy your mind. It is one of the best feelings in the world. I want everyone to feel it.

Today was my first day of classes and due to a scheduling mix up no one came. Okay. I will be teaching upper division Inter-cultural Communication as well as upper division Integrated Skills (Business English for Eco-tourism). Both of these courses are taught in English and are part of the degree in "Anglo American Studies." Unlike the system in the US, it is OK for me to just jump in mid semester as a guest teacher. I will also be advising graduate students on their thesis projects. I don't think there are graduate students at this university but that is what they are called. Maybe here a graduate student is a student who is about to graduate. Who knows. Teaching inter-cultural communication to a room full of young Malagasy people will be much different than teaching the same course in the US. It will take me a bit to figure out what it is that I want to teach them or share with them. I don't know what they need or want. When you are born and raised on an island with a history of colonization and tourism...oh, the familiar feeling of having no idea what to do.

What's your favorite thing about Madagascar?

2010-07-26T18:15:00.000-07:00

Within 24 hours of joining Peace Corps I knew I was having an experience that would be difficult to articulate to people who have not had a similar experience.

It's like becoming strangers with people you know.   Suddenly I have to approach my relationships as intercultural.   Like now I am Malagasy. And you all are American.

Sometimes when I am on facebook and I see the status updates I don't understand them anymore. The dailiness in the United States is so far away.   Sometimes it is a bizarre comparison. Suzy is shopping for shoes!   Monica is digging eggs out of her foot!

When I was in Niger people writing or calling me expressed this concern--something like, "I feel like I can't complain about anything in my life ever because you are in Niger."   I would reassure them. "No, no, please just talk normally." But we both knew that hearing about a broken washing machine when I was living in the poorest country in the world felt odd.

And then there are the times when outsiders show compassion and I don't. I have been here long enough to be not jaded but worn in.   An example of this would be the way I react to begging children. At first, I was like, "Oh, I'm so sorry, Oh, how sad, Oh wow, oh she's holding a baby and she is only six years old, oh, oh..."  Now I am firm with them and sometimes rude (I do my best Mom NO voice).   Because they are pick pockets. Because if I give to one I will have a crowd in minutes.   Because I have a Peace Corps salary which does not allow for handing out money.   So I seem heartless.   Damn begging children, what a hassle.

Malagasy culture is really complex. Race relations between the French (and those of us who look French, like me) and the Malagasy are tense.   I think race relations in the United States are this tense in a lot of places--but being white I didn't EXPERIENCE it I just thought about it.   Here I experience it.   The intensity of someone disliking you at first glance and saying rude things to you is very draining.   It is a stressor that cannot be underestimated.   I get now articles I read about how if people face a lot of discrimination it weakens their immune systems.   But, then for me, being white, I also get a flip side treatment of getting extra attention and courtesy by others.   All I really want is to blend in.   But that will never happen. In Madagascar, I am flourescent white even in my sleep.   I practically glow with white-ness. Even at night, you can tell I am white. It's is just never going away.    It's hard to talk about things like this.

On the phone awhile ago, my mom asked me what my "favorite" part about Madagascar was so far.   I ran out of credit (story of my life) and didn't get a chance to answer which was good because I didn't have an answer.   I don't have a "favorite" part of Madagascar in the sense my mom was asking.   Like, I love Malagasy cuisine (nope) or I love Malagasy music (so so) or ....

Madagascar is really poor.   The race relations are intense. The political situation at a stand still and government infastructure is tiny.   I am living in cities. Perhaps a rural experience would lend itself to that village culture experience we all imagine.

When I go outside my feet become covered in mud and I have to wash them off with cold water.   That's my favorite part Mom.   When I walk past any group of men they stare at me like they want to have sex with me.   That's my second favorite part Mom.   When I buy anything at a new vendor a crowd gathers and laughs at me because I am speaking Malagasy.   Like I said, flourescent white.

I think cultural adjustment probably takes about 50 years. They make it sounds like after a couple months you will be used to it all.   A few days ago when I woke up I had no idea where I was. Not even which continent I was on.   On some really deep level I think my soul is like: WHERE ARE YOU?

I do have a favorite part.   I will never be the same.   I liked myself before. What I mean is that I am changed. I can't explain it.   I'll try.

Before I joined Peace Corps I had something called low level Imaginary PTSD about Poverty.   I imagined poverty and it traumatized me.   I would think about it.   When I was shopping I would wonder where things were made and what lives people led who made the things.

Now I have real PTSD about Poverty.   For the rest of my life I will be fascinated by freeway systems, trash day, sinks, toilets, stores, new things, cars, bus systems, everything.   And I will know the difference. Not as an intellectual aside, like okay--I know lots of people in the world are poor but I choose to only think about it when those damn commercials come on--but as a way of being. I can't go back.

It might sound sadistic but that's my favorite part about Madagascar.   So far.

Goodbye Moramanga

2010-07-26T08:01:00.000-07:00

I lived in Moramanga for six months.   Moramanga is a sprawling, muddy, crowded little Malagasy city that I came to love over the course of six months. It is also home to some of my favorite people inside and outside of Peace Corps.   I met a lot of people from the giant mining complex which operates around Moramanga--Canadians, Europeans, Arabs, Australians.......Indeed, a fellow volunteer joked that I knew more Arabic than Malagasy. Not true! Sho fe? Ma fishy. That's all I got.

I was able to say goodbye to the community and to my surprise about ten people wanted a photo with me--in the middle of the fishery.   I remain a novelty.   Then people started asking for gifts.   I politely refused. I did, however, give my neighber a very nice head lamp because he has been admiring it for months and I will have electricity now.   And a fridge apparently. I think I may have just moved into Fancy Corps.

I was also able to enjoy one last night at my favorite Karaoke place where I sang my two standards: Depeche Mode, Somebody and Eagles, Desperado.   I know they sound like pathetic songs to sing as a single woman roaming around Madagascar--but really they are just in my range. And I got to say goodbye to the karaoke gang. Karaoke in Madagascar is not like karaoke in the United States. People are serious. They clap for each other. It's like five minutes of fame getting up there. It's fun. Plus, I figure even if they don't like my voice everyone likes to hear how to pronounce songs in English. True story.

I left town on a posy posy (rickshaw) with all my bags and myself. It was a heavy load for the cyclist. I paid him two dollars. The usual fare is one dollar. It was misty, rainy and muddy.   I was not sad to leave but I was not sad to have been there either. It was just time for somethin' else. It was sad to leave the people I have met knowing most of them I will never see again (excepting Peace Corps Volunteers).

I didn't get to say goodbye to the girl I have written about.   She's so outgoing, perhaps she will make friends with the next volunteer.

It Worked

2010-07-14T06:22:00.000-07:00

I have talked to several Peace Corps staff and if everything works out (which it appears to have already) I will be moving to the Northern tip of Madagascar and working with the university there teaching English. I expressed to them that I have virtually no business skills but at the same time have years of teaching experience. In short, it just makes sense. This means I will have a new phone number and address so hold off on mailing and calling for now.

I am very excited about not being unemployed and I am very happy with Peace Corps for hearing me out when I said, "Seriously, I do nothing and it's not working for me." I think may have also said something like, "I am at my threshold...."

Let this be a lesson to us all (even if I don't like my move) that sometimes ya just gotta look somebody in the eyeballs so they can see that you are going mad and they will help you. Ah humanity.

Sometimes You Have To Face The Truth

2010-07-11T04:18:00.000-07:00

I am unemployed in Madagascar. It has taken me this long to truly realize it. I know in my early days of Peace Corps I was at peace with the idea of being dropped off in a village and simply making nice for two years occasionally doing something that could loosely be considered as humanitarian work. But after nine months in Peace Corps (which in Peace Corps time is seven years) philosophy is meeting practice. I think this concept of Peace Corps is actually really interesting and potentially effective. But I can't wake up in the morning for a concept these days. I need something to do. Izao.

I know I have written about some past projects but they have all fallen through completely.

So this week while I am at the Peace Corps guest house (also known as the United States by Peace Corps Volunteers) I am going to draft up some proposals to either change locations or sectors--whatever it takes to go from being unemployed to being employed. I have some ideas but I won't bore you with them here unless they materialize.

Wish me luck.

All the photos you could ever want!

2010-06-21T01:08:00.001-07:00

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=172504&id=528303156&l=7fa56b539c

Four New Videos!

2010-06-21T01:01:00.001-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/user/mdyancey#p/u

A Young Girl, Part Two

2010-06-04T07:37:00.000-07:00

http://compassionatewitness.blogspot.com/2010/02/young-girl.html

As some of you may recall in an older blog, I wrote about a girl I
met in town. Since I wrote that post I have seen her many times.
She always shakes my hand and follows me around for awhile.
Sometimes I even follow her around for awhile while she completes her
errands. I found out she is 13 years old and still going to school.
I have met her father who works at a small used clothing stand on a
corner and have seen her working at her mothers vegetable stand. In
short, we are friends.

Today I saw her again and she gave me a drawing. It is written
mostly in French and I have no idea what it says...it may even be an
invitation to something...but I thought it was very sweet and I
especially liked how she wrote my name, Monissica. I should change
my name.

It is a small gesture, for sure, but I have to say the little drawing
was exactly the thing I needed. I can officially say at least one
person in Madagascar things I am neat. Hopefully as my language
skills grow I can have more meaningful conversations with her and
maybe even start encouraging her about her school work. As it stands I
simply ask her what she learned about on any given day and I get a one
word answer.

One day we walked around all the used clothing stands together and
made fun of the ugly clothes like teenagers in the mall.

This girl is pretty special. In the entire city she is the only young
person to approach me and introduce herself. I would think that might
be kind of scary--myself being an old white lady and all.

Another way to look at this is that it is a way to love my niece
Ashley, who is a similar age, from across the world. Because in my
mind every teenage girl needs love and guidance from older women no
matter who she is or where she lives. Maybe I will show her pictures
of Ashley and talk about all the great things Ashley is doing to
inspire her. Spread some international teenage girl power while I am
at it.

Training

2010-06-04T07:36:00.001-07:00

Peace Corps provides two week training after your first three months
at your site. The following things happened during my stay:

I visited my host sister (from my initial Peace Corps training).
Our encounter consisted of me talking to her in Malagasy and her
repeating several times, "You can speak Malagasy now," with her jaw on
the floor. I really wanted to give her a giant Aunt Monica hug but
hugging is not part of Malagasy culture.

Although all of my meals were provided, and many of them were
delicious, there were days on end where there wasn't quite enough
food—particularly because I am vegetarian. One day I ate corn and
rice with ketchup. I call this the Peace Corps diet. My stomach was
growling for much of the training and I am sure that I lost 5-10
pounds in the two week training. It is amazing how hungry you are
when you only eat rice and vegetables for two weeks. A side note to
this is the fact that I don't like rice which means that I don't like
Malagasy food. All Malagasy meals consist of large quantities of rice
and small quantities of loaka. Loaka is the side dish to the rice.
Essentially you eat 2-5 cups of cooked rice and about a half a cup of
beans or some other vegetable. Not liking rice in Madagascar could be
compared to not liking meat in the Midwest, not liking pasta in Italy
or not liking chile in New Mexico. It is a hardship and involves a
lot of hunger when I am not in charge of my own meals. On this note,
I watched Food, Inc. which is about the food industry in the United
States and how it is in urgent need of reform. The film is intended
to make you disgusted by foods in the US—but instead I gazed at the
screen awestruck by the footage of grocery stores and fast food.
Imagine! Isles of food! Imagine!

I attended a Q & A session with people living with AIDS and commercial
sex workers (heterosexual women and gay men). It was incredibly
interesting. I have never had the chance to talk with sex workers
before. At one point a volunteer asked the women why they decided to
go into this work. The translator didn't even translate the question
to the women, she just said back to us, "It isn't a choice. It is
what happens when there are no other choices." All of the women have
children and one of them was married. It was neat to experience the
feeling of my own judgment lift as the session went on. When I first
walked into the room I was looking at their faces, their
clothes—seeing them as alien to me in some way—a novelty and something
entirely foreign. By the end of the session, as their individual
stories and personalities came through, it was simply a group of human
beings. The male sex workers stories differed from the women. It
seemed to me that they were simply gay and could not really be gay in
a more normal way. Both the men seemed fairly comfortable with their
occupation and seemed to consider it a way to live their lives in a
culture that had no other place for them. One of them said that
some of their clients didn't pay because it was for love. The other
man was a hairdresser and has clients by appointment only on the side.
He said, "I am very lucky in my life right now." I also learned
that the health educators, when they do condom demonstrations,
sometimes demonstrate for groups how you put on a condom with your
mouth because a lot of men don't want to wear condoms and the mouth
method puts them at ease, shall we say. The sex workers do this in
the dark and the men never even realize the condom is on.

I attended a session about the ethics of development in poor
countries. We all shared our concerns and fears about helping other
countries. Is it ethical to go into another country and tell them how
to live their lives? As a business volunteer, to promote the values
of Western capitalism and demote the values of informal economy and
barter systems? Then again, is it ethical to pretend that poverty
doesn't exist? To patronize cultures by saying, "It's so quaint!" To
ignore the fact that on this world of ours some people have mountains
of opportunities while others are lucky to reach their fifth birthday?
Sitting in the session, I was reminded how easy it is for me to think
so hard about something that I am sucked into an intellectual vortex
of inaction. Luckily, my APCD (essentially by boss) shared her
perspective. She has worked for Peace Corps for over ten years and is
Malagasy. She essentially gave a testimonial that Peace Corps works
and is meaningful. Her name is Lucy is she reminds me a lot of my
mom—which is to say she is an amazing, intelligent and strong woman.
Her opinion means a lot to me and I left the session feeling hope in
a way that I haven't for some time.

I learned that I miss my mom. I was telling my APCD about how I
thought her and my mom would be best friends if they ever met because
they remind me so much of each other. She asked me what my mom's
name is and when I said it, "Dianne," I felt like crying. Just
because I miss my mom. I think that makes me pretty lucky to have a
mom that you miss even when you are 31 years old.

I learned how exportation works in Madagascar. In short, it is a
complex process that includes many things including bribing police.
On this note, I realized (again) that I seriously have no expertise
whatsoever with anything related to business. I find the
big-picture-theoretical-intellectual-philosophical-global-ethical-
economic concepts interesting but when it really comes down to the
application of it my brain doesn't work. It is sort of like how I
am passionate about why organic foods and products are important, yet
have no desire to weave mittens or grow turnips. What to do with
this self knowledge besides suck it up I cannot say.

I learned that I don't like speaking Malagasy in front of other volunteers.

I solidified my place in Madagascar Peace Corps mythology by sharing
the fact that one day I read a 600 page book (it was John Irving's A
Widow for One Year). In Peace Corps, there are legends and I am
hoping that in a few years it will turn into, "A few years ago, there
was a volunteer who read 1,200 pages in one hour." One such legend I
have heard is that a few years ago a volunteer read 500 books in her
first year. I have thought about this a lot, since right now I am
basically doing a self-directed survey of literature extensive enough
to earn a graduate degree, and have decided that this woman could not
in fact have read 500 books in one year. I think the accurate number
is probably closer to 300. My projection for myself is 100-150 per
year of Peace Corps.

Fundraising In Need

2010-05-11T05:16:00.001-07:00

I am working with a wonderful nonprofit here Madagascar, ACCE, that is
in need of outside funding. Although this organization has been
functioning very well for over ten years, because of the political
situation here things are becoming more difficult. Many
international funding organizations (particularly those affiliated
with governments who expect countries to have presidents, the US for
example) have or are pulling out of Madagascar.

This means that environmental issues are particularly at risk because
international companies tend to really like lawlessness. So the aid
leaves, and the companies stay (mines, logging). It is an important
time to help Madagascar.

The organization I am working for has two primary protected areas
under its scope. These areas are ONLY protected because of our
organization. They include the flying fox, several species of lemurs
and several species of frogs. You may know that Madagascar is
considered an amazing biological jewel because of its near 100 percent
rates of endemism (meaning animals found here tend to only be found
here). ACCE trains Malagasy people as researchers so it is the
community people who watch over the protected areas and do scientific
research. Beyond the protected areas, ACCE is all about helping the
communities--indeed the ultimate driving force is that we humans need
a safe ecosystem to live healthy lives. To this end, school building
and income generating activities have been part of the ACCE mission.

This Fall, ACCE is hoping to host an international bat festival to
foster scientific dialogue and to teach communities about the
ecological role that bats play in Madagascar. In addition to this,
we are in the process of developing a small and environmentally
friendly community based ecotourism loop near the region where I am
living. This way the Malagasy people who are so diligently protecting
the forests under the advisement of ACCE can begin to earn much needed
income. We have many more projects in the works; but those two give
you a sense of the kinds of work ACCE does in addition to monitoring
the protected areas.

If you would like to help me research potential donors, or know of a
private individual who would consider donating to this cause, contact
me at monicayancey@gmail.com. Any support or advisement is useful to
me. I should also mention that you would be surprise how little money
it takes to run an entire organization here what with exchange rates
being what they are.

Below; I have pasted a little more information about the organization.

ACCE Partners- Past and Present

University of Aberdeen
Peace Corps
Lubee Bat Conservancy
Embassy of Great Britain
Conservation International
Fauna Flora International
Seacology
Darwin Initiative
USAID

ACCE Activities

Scientific Research and Conservation Site Management
ACCE has conducted studies and research about P. Rufus with specialist
groups (Universities, biologists, NGOs) to learn about the species.
ACCE completed research includes: studied the ecological role of P.
Rufus, travel and distance of P. Rufus through radio tracking,
determined diet of P. Rufus through feces collection and analysis by
planting in a pepiniere.

Managing Conversation Sites
The integration of conservation sites into the system of protected
areas is key. The habitat of P. Rufus and many amphibian species are
generally located outside of protected areas. Consequently, the
situation is not favorable for conservation of the species. To
enforce protective actions, the focal sites of conservation which
should be included in the system-protected areas are the humid forest
of Ambohidray, the forest of Besariaka in the NAP CAZ and the roost of
P. Rufus in Ambakoana and Analabe.

Monitoring
To know the development and dynamic of the population of P. Rufus, the
daily counting of individual P. Rufus was adopted. The counting takes
place in each of the roosts of P. Rufus in Amboasary Gara and
Antaniditra. This activity permits the evaluation of our conservation
of the species and with that we can change our conservation strategies
if needed.

Education and Public Awareness
Developing long term conservation, education and public awareness is
crucial especially for the edible species like P. Rufus and some
species of amphibians. The importance and significance of the
species' environmental impact are sometimes unknown by the population
which makes conservation difficult. The goal of education and public
awareness is to offer the population a new vision for the bats which
allows the communities to adopt a favorable attitude about the
species. To this end, ACCE has brought education and public awareness
about the importance of the ecological role that P. Rufus plays at two
communities: Amboasary Gara and Antaniditra. Primary schools have
been targeted in the Alaotra Mangoro region with teacher trainings
about ecological roles of three Megachiropterian bats and 28
Microchiropterian bats. Two picture competitions for schools, one of
which required students to create a story board drawing related to
bats and conservation, have been facilitated. Our activities are done
through partnerships with local authorities and a biologist from the
University of Alberdeen.

Conservation
Conserving biodiversity has massive implications for local
communities. ACCE's strategy is to collaborate closely with local
communities though raising public awareness. The concept is that if
the population participates with the conservation activities they can
become responsible for and fully engage with environmental protection.
To achieve this goal, ACCE has established a DINA (Traditional Local
Law) regarding bat conservation in seven rural communities in the
district of Moramanga: Amboasary Gara, Antaniditra, Mangarivotra
(ex-Beparasy), Morarano Gara, Fierenana, Andaingo, and Belavabary and
created management committees for the seven communities. The community
created and still maintains a pare-feux (a fire stopping trench around
the conservation site) for the conversation site of P. Rufus, which
has already proven effective in keeping a forest fire from the roost.

Community Aid
Preserving biodiversity creates certain restrictions for communities
regarding their use of the natural environment. Therefore, it is
necessary and important to find alternative activities for the
communities. Establishing alternative activities ensures the
integrity of the biodiversity and provides communities with activities
that can increase their quality of life without depending on the
environment in harmful ways. Alternative activities must meet the
needs of the community and as such, the community can embrace the need
for environmental conservation. ACCE activities include
reforestation of the Fokotany of Ambohidava, Ambohimiarina and
Amboasary. ACCE provided 2,500 young plants for the communities of
Mahatsara in the commune of Antaniditra, Marotsipohy, Maroharona and
Amboasary. ACCE has also worked with community members to create a
tree farm in Analasoa in the commune of Amboasary. Knowledge has been
transferred regarding bee keeping, fish farming and raising chickens
in Mahatsara in the commune of Antaniditra, Marotsipohy, Anosibe,
Antanifotsy, and Analasoa in the commune of Amboasary.

deforestation and a laundry mat

2010-04-28T00:00:00.001-07:00

MY HOUSE

2010-04-27T18:21:00.000-07:00

IT IS HUGE AND NICE I DONT SUPPOSE I WILL RECEIVE ANY SYMPQTHY FROM HERE ON OUT.

I LEFT THIS DRINK ALONE FOR ABOUT TWO MINUTES ON MY PORCH

2010-04-27T17:46:00.003-07:00

LOOK CLOSELY AND YOU CAN SEE THE EGGS IN MY TOE

2010-04-27T17:37:00.003-07:00

WHAT I SEE WHEN I OPEN MY FRONT DOOR

2010-04-27T17:31:00.001-07:00

Birthday

2010-04-22T01:58:00.001-07:00

Today I leave for the coast for a few days. I thought spending my
birthday on the Indian Ocean sounded like a great idea.

Top Ten Adjustments (So Far)

2010-04-01T06:07:00.001-07:00

1. No Electricity. This means candles at night and a very early
bedtime. Otherwise it means I can never use my laptop and hoard care
package batteries. When I use my battery powered speakers I think to
myself, "Do I really want to listen to music right now, will I really
appreciate it?" Gone are the days of brainless background tunes.

2. No Running Water. This means I use the bathroom, the latrine in
my neighbors yard, only when I really need to. It also means that I
pull all of my water from a well (also in my neighbors backyard). The
final implication is the "bucket shower" that I am still not really
used to. I am getting good at it but the shower itself is dirty since
the geese and chickens like to hang out in there when it is not in
use. It is a small outdoor wooden room, like a latrine only without
the hole. I will be honest and say I dont bathe every day.

3. No Privacy. Privacy does not exist here. This is probably the
hardest thing to cope with. People knock on my door all day only
stopping at night time. Sometimes I dont answer and I think that may
be even more stressful than the unexpected guest since not answering
may make me seem like a total weirdo.

4. The Kids. In front on my house is a playground of children who
never tire of trying to gain my attention. They peer in my windows
and talk to me at every possible chance. It is more exhausting than
cute. But sometimes, I think they are cute. They are just curious,
I tell myself. And why wouldnt they be? No one like me has ever
lived in their neighborhood.

5. Food. Although lots of veggies and fruits are available here, I
find myself missing restaurants and foods from the US. Namely
fountain drinks and Mexican food.

6. Language. Walking around town with the language skills of a
three year old is quite an adjustment let me assure you.

7. Free Time. I wake up in the morning and think, "What on earth am
I going to do today?" Generally speaking, it is not comforting to
have an open schedule. I would be busier if I could communicate more,
so I guess over time that will happen. For now I answer, "Fry some
potatoes and read another book."

8. Parasy. A couple of days ago I had a swollen blister like thing
under my big toe nail. This is called parasy. It is a bug that lays
eggs in your skin. So, as advised by the doctor, I opened it up and
got the eggs out. It was exactly like a pimple, only in my heart I
knew some little critter had lain eggs and that it was eggs I was
peering at. Gross. And common here, it will happen again.

9. Biking. I am slowly starting to use my peace corps issued bike
and it is quite a work out.

10. Celebrity. I have been on TV three times since I got here.
People recognize me all the time. People know my name. When I walk
down the street I am like a politician on the campaign trail waving
and smiling. And adolescent dreams that remained in my soul about
wanting to be famous or known have been completely wiped out. I am
just not polite enough.

Dreams

2010-04-01T06:06:00.000-07:00

For the first time since I got here, I forgot I was here. I had a dream I lived in Santa Fe with my mom and I was going to buy a diet coke. When I woke up it took me several minutes to realize I was in Madagascar. It was a bizarre few minutes as a series of clues came to me while I gazed around my house. My water filter, my chamber pot, and then with a deep sadness I realized there was no diet coke.

Slightly Useful

2010-04-01T05:46:00.000-07:00

Just when I was sure I would spend the next two years reading (not exactly a death sentence but not really why I joined Peace Corps) I got news today that I can help with an English Club at the local high school. I will help teach English with the subject matter of the Environment. I dont know what they have in mind but to me when you are speaking of the environment you can also speak about health, the world, politics (in a neutral Peace Corps way of course), animals, business, pollution. Basically our environmental welfare as a planet encompasses any interesting topic I can think of, so I am hoping the class can not only learn English but can also be a nice seminar about the world. I should not get my hopes up too high, but I need something to believe in. After all, my primary focus right now would be the fictional characters in Marge Piercys "Gone to Soldiers" and as wildly entertaining as that book is I need some real life stimulation. Plus, teenagers like me....at least in the US they do. Here they might just agree with their parents that I am weird and require far too much privacy (which incidentally is a concept competely absent in Malagasy culture).

Work

2010-03-22T05:29:00.001-07:00

Some of you may be wondering if I have worked yet since all I write
about are tortillas and my inner thoughts. Well, the short answer to
that is NO but the long answer is KIND OF.

It is hard, for me at least, to do any substantial work when I cant
speak Malagasy well enough to communicate complex ideas. When I meet
people I usually tell them that I am not doing projects yet because I
need to work on language first. The good part about how long it
takes to learn a language is that it forces me to learn the culture as
well...before I try to do projects. This way when I try to do
something it will be culturally appropriate. So, if I dont work
then what do I do? I read a lot, I cook a lot, I talk to people a
lot, I walk a lot and I stare at my ceiling a lot. As a matter of
fact, I think this is the phase of Peace Corps well known among
volunteers where you basically do nothing and face your own ability to
make peace with that. I am at peace with it in waves and totally
confused about my uselessness in waves.

KIND OF

There are a few small things that I have done. I have translated some
documents for the nonprofit I am affiliated with. I have traveled the
region to see and learn about the places they are protecting. I am
in the process of starting an English class for the people in my town
who all ask me to teach them English. I am teaching a young man how
to use the Internet. Since the Peace Corps is also about
intercultural exchange, when I tell people about the US I am
technically working. Similarly, when I learn about Madagascar I am
technically working. In this sense, I am always working. Today, for
example, I explained that in the US the internet is really fast. And
almost everyday when I try a new fruit or vegetable, I explain that in
the United States we dont have this or that. Everyone likes it when
I try things for the first time, especially (for some reason) when I
dont like it. There are many projects people want me to start, just
this morning a man came to my house asking for help raising money to
buy a generator for his hotel (which currently does not have
electricity). I dont have the language or technical skills yet to
facilitate things like this, so hopefully as my language improves so
will my ability to be useful.

Tortillas

2010-02-28T23:51:00.001-08:00

After over four months of living my life without tortillas, this last
weekend I decided enough was enough and learned how to make them. I
made the mistake of first trying to use rice flour which was a
disaster; but I have now mastered the recipe. From now on I can start
my day with breakfast burritos which brings me infinite joy.

Today is a good day!

A Young Girl

2010-02-28T23:47:00.001-08:00

A young girl, perhaps 14-15 years old, followed me around the market
today. Eventually I introduced myself to her and when we parted we
shook hands. She had a beautiful slender face and was taking a bottle
of oil home to her family (in a used coke bottle).

I can't help but wish that this girl had all of the opportunities that
I have had. I do not come from a rich family and even still, a
plethora of opportunities were (and are) afforded to me. I could be a
lawyer if I wanted to. I could be a scientist. I could be a mother.
I could be a lot of things. It wouldn't be easy but it is possible.
The fact that I could join the Peace Corps, at thirty years old, shows
my privilege. The fact that I could chose to spend an entire decade
(my 20's) of my adult life childless and fancy free shows my
privilege. Very few women in our world have the opportunity to choose
not to have children, or to put off having children, as I have had.
It simply wouldn't happen in most societies. If you know me, you know
I love children—but the reality persists that being able to experience
life without having young children creates a freedom most woman never
experience until their 50's or 60's, if ever.

The town I live in has a major problem with teenage prostitution. I
can't help but wonder if this girl is going to face pressure soon to
prostitute herself. Some girls do it because their families
encourage them to, I have been told, because they are living in such
poverty and other girls do it without their families knowing. I have
been told that it costs more to buy a virgin. Will this girl face
decisions like these? I certainly never did.

So my little friend at the market today has a few choices she can
make. I hope that she makes choices that benefit her. More so, I
hope she has choices.

Maybe I will see her again.

BECAUSE I AM WHITE

2010-02-28T23:46:00.001-08:00

Until I went to Tana, the capital city, for my swearing in I had spent
all of my time in rural Madagascar with a trained host family and at a
guarded Peace Corps training site. In other words, I have been
shielded from much of the reality of Madagascar. My time in Tana,
and now my time in the city I live in, has been totally eye opening.

I will focus on three aspects of my growing understanding of how
things are in Madagascar.

First, when I went to buy something from a street vendor I was swarmed
with begging children and mothers with babies on their backs. This
did not happen in the rural areas. The children were pick pockets
which does not decrease my compassion but does change the way I
interacted with them. Up to two dozen begging people followed me
around. Because I am white. When I was with a friend of mine who
is male (and white) the numbers increased significantly. Perhaps
there is an assumption that men have more money.

Second, everyone greets me and speaks to me in French. To my
knowledge, Malagasy people don't speak French to each other in this
way. This may at first glance appear to be a polite gesture,
speaking in what is assumed to be my native tongue, but because being
French carries all sorts of connotations (which I will discuss) I find
it disturbing. To give a quick example: simply bargaining for a
taxi in Malagasy is enough to draw a smiling crowd of Malagasy people.
All I have to do is say hello in Malagasy, having been greeted with
"Bonjour", and the person I am speaking to is happily surprised. All
I have to do is say hello in Malagasy and I have distinguished myself
in a positive way. On a side note, I had hoped to learn French here
and I now see that I will have to approach this goal of mine
carefully. If I simply walk around speaking French I will not gain
the trust of the people I am speaking to. I will have to single out
people I know better and practice French with them. I discussed this
with a Malagasy friend a couple of days ago and he agreed completely.
He knew exactly what my conundrum was with very little explanation.

Finally, and most disturbing, a group of friends and I went to a dance
club that was specifically recommended by a Peace Corps Volunteer one
night. As we realized after we were there, his specification that we
only go there on the weekends was key. On week days (which is when
we were there) it is a den of prostitution. There were over a hundred
Malagasy women, quite young but probably eighteen, and a half dozen
older (55+) white men, presumably French. Because of the nature of
the work and the small number of prospective clients, the women were
extremely assertive in gaining the attention of their potential buyer.
We literally had to create a half circle around the male volunteer
that was with us because he was being grabbed. Needless to say we
stayed about five minutes, picked our sad jaws off the floor, and
left. Watching a beautiful young girl express such interest in an
average looking old man, and seeing his total satisfaction in that
"interest" was disgusting to me.

So, it is these experiences that have helped me to realize that when
it comes to getting star treatment, being white is where it's at in
Madagascar. Watching people beg, prostitute themselves, speak in
French, etc. all led me to realize that I've never lived anywhere
where the minority ruled the majority. I mean no disrespect to
Malagasy people in making this statement—it is my understanding that
the Malagasy government is indeed not ruled by the French anymore—but
when it comes to being treated like the queen of England, you are more
likely to get that if you are white (and presumably French).

I've never lived anywhere where every place I go I am stared at
because of the color of my skin.

I've never lived anywhere where people where afraid of me because of
the color of my skin. But maybe they aren't afraid. Maybe they just
know my type and I am not to be trusted. That is the strange side
note to being treated specially because of white skin. You are
singled out as "the other" and even if you are treated "better" it is
still clear that you aren't "one of us" and there is a tone of
distrust.

For the first time in my life I am experiencing racism. But racism
is the wrong word. Most definitions of racism include the
understanding that white people, having oppressed other races for so
long, don't experience racism per se. Here, for example, I am not
being oppressed because of the color of my skin. I am being singled
out as a person who has money and influence. The fact that I don't
want to be singled out at all, and don't want to be seen as dominant,
is beside the point racism-wise. What I am experiencing can't really
compare with a person being singled out as fundamentally inferior
because of his or her skin color. What I am experiencing is probably
Malagasy people reacting to the racism they have experienced from the
French.

As I creep into the Malagasy heart, I find myself antagonistic toward
French expatriates in Madagascar. No doubt there are many wonderful
French people who live in Madagascar (and, as the saying goes, "one of
my best friends is French" or in my case, my tennis coach is French).
I saw an adorable French man doting over his grandchild just a few
days ago. So I know it isn't all French people. I really do. But I
keep having flash backs of the French men in the dance club and it
makes me sick to my stomach. I know things like this happen all over
the world and Americans are in no way absent from this.

It's so sad to see the remnants of colonization very much alive. I
still like France and the French. I just don't like some of the
things that are happening here. And I don't like the fact that the
color of my skin carries a connotation of domination. I suppose it
always has, it's just never been so obvious to me.

SANI

2010-02-28T23:44:00.001-08:00

Whenever I hear Dead Prez, "I'm a African," I think of Sani. I wish
there was a way I could help him do what he wants to do. I don't
think he can do it without help. It isn't in his power.

He was my Hausa teacher in Niger. He spent about 12 extra hours
teaching me, one on one, Hausa by lamp light in an outdoor compound a
few feet from where he slept each night, with all the other teachers,
outside under the Nigerien sky.
I burned him a CD when we parted. He said he liked country music. I
told him I didn't really have country music but that I had some
political rap that he might like. He liked it.

Sani applied and was accepted into Kansas State. The application
process, from a place like Niger—must've been something quite indeed.
With internet connections so slow that it takes upwards of an hour to
upload a single photo—imagine a college application, including the
international and expensive exams. He was accepted—but he could not
afford to pay.

I wanted to promise him, as I learned his story, that I would help him
get to the United States for college. I almost did. But I didn't
want to lie, and I wasn't sure I could do something like that with the
internet connection here being what it is. So I just nodded my head
and listened to his story.

Quotations and Scenarios......from the past few days

2010-02-08T01:09:00.001-08:00

"I just went from 90.4 to 106.6 to find the next station."

While cooking and peeling potatoes, earnestly, "I wish I had a pig to
give this to."

I spent three hours buying the boards for a bed because the wood
seller didn't have a saw. We had to borrow one from the Director of
the non-profit I am affiliated with.

Wandering around urban Madagascar wondering how it could be that
Howard Zinn and J.D. Salinger were both dead.

Struggling to type this because I am getting used to the French Keyboard.

I played the piano at the United States Ambassador to Madagascar's
Residence and the event earlier that evening (the swearing in) was
televised. I was on TV. At this same event, a large tortoise nearly
knocked over the speaker system two times.

"Izao! Azafady."

In the hotel room in the big city we discovered Romans 15:1 from the
Gideon's Bible.

I brought an empty plastic coke bottle to get oil.

"I know this kind of sucks, but I'm still McGuiver, right?"

From a Malagasy, "Oh so you guys love Jesus?"

From a Malagasy, "Oh so you guys love peace?"

From a Malagasy, "You're not French? Good. French are fetsifetsy (sneaky)."

"Azafady," when grabbing a stranger for support as I was spread eagle
into a giant abyss which is known in Madagascar as a sidewalk.

"It was a series of evolutionary twists and turns that brought this
cheese to us. It's endemic to Madagascar."

For adding spice to foods, "Monica, go get the grass clippings."

In reference to the po, "It may be the dining room, but it's still the
bathroom."

"Maybe I'll get a mofo kondro for the road."

"Who needs refrigeration; as long as you heat something up the second,
third or fourth days it's good."

"Is it raining? Oh good, my buckets will be collecting water."

MOFO MONICA

2010-02-05T07:31:00.001-08:00

For three weeks I lived with a Malagasy family to learn the language and to learn about culture. This was an amazing (and exhausting) experience. It was amazing because I loved my host family very much and apparently they loved me. It was exhausting because I was speaking Malagasy 24-hours a day and had no free-time/alone-time whatsoever.

I will share some highlights.

One of my favorite memories of the home stay experience happened only a few days in. I spoke very little Malagasy and wanted to play with my host sister (who is ten) so we went downstairs and I drew a circle in the dirt. I proceeded to sing the hokey-pokey to her and demonstrate how it worked. I felt shy about it but continued on anyway. When I looked up I realized that about two dozen people were watching us. At that moment I wasn’t sure if I was just embarrassing myself but I continued on anyway. Soon we had a few kids playing with us and many more adults laughing at us. After the hokey-pokey, we played some Malagasy games that I didn’t understand really but that were fun. I think this may have been my first move to win over the hearts of my neighbors. Or maybe it was just a way to let everyone know that I was okay with being laughed at.

I also went to church with my host mother and host sister a couple of times. This was really great. In my mind, it was 1 ½ hours to not have to speak Malagasy and to sit (well, mostly sit, since it was Catholic church) and think. There was a lot of singing and the music was beautiful. I think it also served to show my host family that I respected their faith. On this note, a wonderful thing, before and after every meal we prayed. The best part was that after the meal there was a song in the prayer. After about a week I would sing the song with them. It was so sweet to hear out quiet voices singing a little song. Often it was with wind and rain storming outside (meaning on the other side of the tarp on our balcony). The sound of our song with the outside world whirling around us was lovely.

One day, my host sister took me into the rice fields. We walked very quickly (I almost fell about six hundred times into the marshy rice patties) on little raised paths and watched the sun set.

I think my host sister really liked me. Every day she would tell me she was going to be sad when I left. From her perspective I can’t think of anything better than having me as a friend. I mean, think about it—she has this 30 year old friend who follows her around, repeats whatever she says, does whatever she wants and smiles a lot. I’m like a giant two year old. How fun is that for a ten year old girl?

I also taught my host sister some of the words to my favorite song, “I Can” by Nas. The lyrics were, “I know I can, be what I wanna be, if I work hard at it, I’ll be where I wanna be….be..be..be girls and boys you can be anything in the world in god we trust, an architect, a dancer maybe an actress but nothing comes easy it takes much practice.” It was really cute to hear her sing it (about five hundred times a day). She loved it. At one point I tried to translate it to her…..

We also had a good laugh at my lack of language skills once we all knew each other better. There were a lot of words I simply couldn’t remember day after day and we would all just laugh at me. To keep things funny I would sometimes call a spoon a tree, or a chair a head. Just to remind them and myself that I really did know a few nouns.

One day I showed my host mother a five generation picture of the women in my family. She was very impressed by it. We talked about how my great great great grandmother was from England.

A few nights before I left I cooked for the family. It was hard. Cooking without a sink and in candle light and with a small charcoal oven is even harder than cooking while camping. But I managed to make spaghetti with tomato sauce and garlic bread. The garlic bread was a hit. I told them it was Italian and that a lot of Italians lived in the United States. I wanted to tell them that pizza was invented in New York but I wasn’t sure how to say that. Plus, nobody really cares about pizza in Madagascar except the foreigners. The next night, my host mother made garlic bread with our meal and we all laughed and called it “Mofo Monica.” Mofo means bread (as opposed to what it means in English) and the different types are mofo akondro (banana bread), mofo gasy (malagasy bread), etc. So now I have claimed ownership of garlic bread. I hope nobody minds.

The night before I left I was treated like a queen. It was so sweet. I giant feast was made and in addition to getting beautiful presents, my host mother and host sister put on traditional dress and sang for me. My host mother also stood up and gave a touching speech to me (in which she cried) and all I understood was that she said, “Thank you for your beautiful music on the guitar,” and “now we are family.” I cried a little too. That night she invited me to the first communion of my host sister in August. I said I would be there.

More Soon

2010-02-02T04:03:00.001-08:00

I am working on some blogs so stay posted. Today I am leaving for a trip to see some other volunteers with the nonprofit I am working with. When I get back I will upload some pictures and blogs....

I LOVE THEM AND SO WOULD YOU

2010-01-29T02:35:00.000-08:00

Tondi and Souley (from Niger)

Swearing In

2010-01-25T04:09:00.001-08:00

Tomorrow I swear in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer. I have passed all my tests (including language) and will be a real person soon. It only took three months of training. Wish you all could be there.

THE BIG CITY

2009-12-25T23:40:00.001-08:00

The town I will be place in is a relatively large city which means that:

1. I will have electricity (electricity = cheese, a fan, and laptop movie, music and typing use)

2. I will be close to my post office which means that when you send me a letter or a package I won’t have to wait for my “town day” to go and get it.

3. I will have internet access (however, it will always be at an hourly rate)

4. There will be tourists (I will *probably* think I am too cool to give them the time of day)

But I’m still in Madagascar which means that:

1. I have to eat only certain cheeses because of the TB risk

2. My water is in a well in my backyard (and I will definitely be carrying it on my head because it’s easier)

3. I will have an indoor latrine toilet

4. I am not supposed to go out after dark because of something related to ancestors and witches that I do not yet understand

I’ll move into my new pad at the end of January and begin work as a mute Peace Corps Volunteer.

(It’s kind of hard to have expectations when I am still learning basic greetings).

PREVENTING TEENAGE PROSTITUTION, PROMOTING FAIR TRADE AND ORGANIZING LABOR UNIONS: December 20, 2009

2009-12-25T23:39:00.005-08:00

I suppose those things may not sound exciting to every person on the planet, but personally I couldn’t ask for a better job description. Although I have only had two preliminary job interviews for SED (Small Enterprise Development) I have received my job description.

For economic reasons, some families in Madagascar encourage their daughters to begin life as a prostitute. The idea, I think, is to create economic opportunities for the families that help prevent this from being financially “necessary.” When my boss here asked me if I was interested in preventing this I almost started crying. I will be working with an NGO (ACCE) and am excited to hear what their strategies are. I had a feeling that this happened here because of the tourists (let us all bow our heads in shame now). At the police station there was an ad that said, “Children are not souvenirs.” Touché.

Fair trade is something I am very excited about and it is my understanding that I will be in a position of educating people about what their rights are and encouraging the efficacy of workers groups (which are not called labor unions but essentially are). Making sure that people are not being exploited by larger entities will be part of my job description if needed. Teaching the workers groups how to eliminate persons in their midst that do not serve their best interest is encouraged. I guess part of the battle is helping people to see themselves as a business man or a business woman rather than as a fisherman or a farmer. In many cases, people leave all of the business details to a more sophisticated (and not necessarily benign) person. ACCE works in this capacity as well especially when it comes to eco tourism.

Ultimately when I arrive in the town I am assigned to I will have the task of becoming fluent in Malagasy, while possibly learning French, and trying to ascertain what the people in the town want. It isn’t uncommon for a group of people to come to you and ask you to facilitate something. It’s like having a free idea facilitator in town. I will do what the people want me to do.

As you can probably tell, I have high hopes which I guess is part of the problem with Peace Corps—having high expectations and then being disappointed when your experience is not earth shattering. But for me, if one girl avoids prostitution (or her daughter’s daughter) then my time has been well spent. I think I am old enough to enjoy the feeling of hope but also old enough to grasp infinitesimal victories.

Smells Like Children: December 20, 2009

2009-12-25T23:39:00.003-08:00

In Madagascar, when walking around town, it is not uncommon to be called a vahaza (pronounced vahzah). The word refers to a person who is a foreigner (or who appears to be a foreigner). Originally this word referenced a person who had gone through some sort of customs (which foreigners do). Technically it does not mean white, but Peace Corps volunteers who are not white are called different terms (there is vahaza-like term for people from India or Japan and China, for example)

It can also be a compliment, or an insult, to call a Malagasy person a vahaza. As in, you are “acting white” right now. It is disturbing to me, but apparently it is generally a compliment (according to the Malagasy staff here at our training). If someone has a child who appears more light skinned it is appropriate to say that the child looks vahaza—insinuating that that is a good thing.

So get this: sometimes parents will threaten their children with the town vahaza (that would be me) by telling them “if you don’t clean your room I will let that vahaza eat you.” Because, don’t you know, vahaza’s like eating children. The parents are well aware that foreigners are not interested in eating children, but use it, as we use Santa Clause in the United States, as a bargaining tool from time to time. The children, of course, don’t know that this is all a big joke and I have been warned that from time to time a child will be terrified when I walk by. I am pretty sure a toddler was scared of me yesterday and now I know why.

It gets worse: The Malagasy people fought in WWII with France. Malagasy soldiers came back to the island after the war and told everyone (referring to the many atrocities that happened during the Holocaust): “You wouldn’t believe the disgusting and crazy things white people do!”

Unfortunately, as it turns out, little children here may look at my face and instead of seeing me—they will see one of humankind’s lowest points. Thanks a lot Hitler.

Lost in a Sea of Syllables: December 18, 2009

2009-12-25T23:38:00.005-08:00

The Malagasy language is, in a word, lengthy. So, in a way, it’s like learning three or four words for every word learned. Hausa, the language I was learning in Niger, was the opposite because most words were one or two syllables. On the up side, it is nice to listen to.

Examples:

Vavavaran Kely = Window

Mangetaheta = Thirsty

Hitsangatsangana = To go for a walk

Mpikarakara Tokantrano = House Wife

Mihazakazaka = Running

Many of the syllables are breathed out instead of spoken and people tend to talk quietly. Wish me luck.

A WHOLE NEW WORLD: December 19, 2009

2009-12-25T23:38:00.001-08:00

I’ve been in Madagascar for about ten days now (which in Peace Corps time is about two months). It is incredibly beautiful (the square mile I’ve seen) and has a livable climate. The air feels like a special miracle most days. My hair is fluffy. The first three weeks of our training are located at site which reminds me a lot of the summer resort in Dirty Dancing. Soon, we will move to host families for a full immersion experience. I’m guessing at that point I will stop feeling like I am on vacation. As it is, I spend my days gazing out onto a lake and enjoying the misty air. We can canoe and take bike rides every evening if we choose.

When I was preparing to join the Peace Corps, quite a few people said to me, “Wow, I could never do that but good for you.” In Niger, I was sometimes haunted by their comments. Lodged in a bush taxi or waking to screaming goats in the middle of the night, I would think to myself, “Maybe they were right. I can’t do it either. They just knew themselves better.” In Madagascar, so far, instead of being haunted by that sentiment I find it funny because I’m not doing anything even remotely difficult right now. I am living at a resort. But don’t feel too bad, I’m sure when I move into the actual village and begin work it won’t be all fun and games. I am also working through my own ignorance. In my mind (and I’m sure I’m not the only one): Island = Paradise. Of course, some of the poorest places on earth are islands. So I have this whole vacation/recreation/leisure association with island life that is very far from reality.

Madagascar is beautiful. The village next to this training site is amazing. Everything is green. I am in a beautiful valley with small European style homes with straw roofs (think old school France) and large pockets of rice patties. Today I went for a four hour walk with another volunteer. We bought cheese, bread and dark chocolate for a picnic. This may sound unexciting, but it would have been unthinkable in Niger. As I type this I can hear a symphony of thunder, it rains here every night—giant storms loud enough to keep you up. I don’t mind. The rain is amazing.

The contrast from Niger will permanently impact my experience here. I am sure if I had just landed in Madagascar I would be surprised by the poverty here—but I can’t help but compare it. Even if it is as poor here, the climate is forgiving which to me makes a lot of difference (you can grow food, for example).

OFF TO MADAGASCAR

2009-12-07T10:37:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow I go to Madagascar. I do not know how often I will have the Internet and particularly for the next two months I may be difficult to reach (email, phone) with the exception of letters.   My mailing address is located on the right hand side of this web page.

For the next eight weeks I will start a new language (Malagasy), technical (Small Enterprise) and culture training.   Once completed and sworn in as a volunteer, I will be assigned to a specific location and begin my work as a Small Enterprise Development Volunteer.

My entire training group from Niger is coming with me as well as two head staff members from Niger (who as Nigeriens found France even colder than I) so I am in good hands and already with people I know.

It will be rainy season in Madagascar (also known as Malaria season) so I am taking my anti-malarials and waiting in anticipation to see what will happen to my skin when it is not dry like an elephant.

I will be writing posts along the way and uploading them when I can.

Tonight, I enjoy another three course meal in France. Tomorrow, I enjoy airplane food and movies.   Tomorrow night, a new reality unfolds.

If I don't get a chance to say it later: Happy Holidays!

24 HOURS OF PARIS

2009-12-07T08:53:00.000-08:00

Due to a 24 hour layover between Niger and Madagascar I have been given the rare opportunity to visit the country who colonized both of my Peace Corps countries.   Yes, France--the land of cheese and chocolate croissants!   My Nigerien outfit was a hit in France. Suddenly I felt like I was wearing pajama pants and only hours earlier I felt fancy in my custom made pants. Instead of actually going into Paris, I decided to sit around the hotel.   This may sound like it is a boring thing to do but consider the following:

1) I was impressed by the bathroom in the airplane and stunned to discover an option for warm OR cold water on the faucet.

2) I was equally amazed to behold a roll of toilet paper in the airport bathroom the size of a frisbee. On top of that I was able to fill my Nalgene bottle in the bathroom without fear of contracting amoebas or bacteria.

3) The automatic doors at the hotel entrance are spectacular. You walk up and they just open like you are the Queen of England.

4) I had a three course meal at lunch and due to my rudimentary French I told the waiter I was Vegan which means I was served two courses of beautiful amazing vegetables and one course of chocolate covered fruits.

5) Delicious pure amazing water in a glass bottle is served to me.

6) The shower is also a bath and I can lay down and soak in water whose temperature is entirely my choice and where dirt is nonexistent.

7) I can modify the temperature of the room I am in at a moments notice.

8) Outside, it is winter--which feels like Antarctica to me.

9) I am sitting on a coach as I type this. A soft clean cushy couch.

10) I have a full sized bed with giant clean soft white sheets and a surplus of pillows.

I ask you, why would a person leave this paradise? I would just as soon die in this hotel room. Paris is nice and everything but I cannot bring myself to abandon this airport hotel.   It is just too luxurious. My brain and my eye balls are confused all over again. The whole world looks different here. Every single thing is different.

My House In Niger

2009-12-07T07:55:00.001-08:00

“The Museum” December 3, 2009

2009-12-07T07:51:00.001-08:00

Today our group went to Niamey to visit the museum (which probably has a real name but everyone called it “the museum”). Maybe it’s the only one? Nah, it’s probably just the best one. It was really great. For starters, it is also a zoo. I saw hyena’s for the first time in my life and was quite surprised by how adorable they were. To me they look like bear faced dogs. One on them wagged its tail when it saw me and I am about 40% sure that if it hadn’t been caged it would have wanted to play with me. Tail wagging is a universal sign of friendship, no? Another volunteer share with me that in the wild they are less chubby than the hyena’s I saw and that in the wild they look mangy and scary. I suppose the bear faced dogs I saw could look scary but as far as I’m concerned they should selling hyena puppies at pet stores. I also got to see a very serious (and maybe insane) chimpanzee pretty close and we maintained eye contact for awhile. Chimpanzees look so much like humans I can’t help but be amazed and weirded out by them. I half expected the chimp to just strike up a conversation with me the way s/he was starring. It would have been a hard conversation to have though so I’m glad we stuck to ocular communication. As some of you may know I am not a huge fan of zoos because I want animals to frolic around the world in freedom and health. (Side note: I know zoologists are good people and we are probably on the same team in the end). The zoo here had small cages and even less, well say, amenities, than zoos in the United States. A benefit to this though, for me, was that I was pretty darn close to the animals. I also saw a hippopotamus that could have earned a lot of money in a carnival side show due to its enormous size.

I asked, in French, where the giraffe’s were and I like to think that the response was, “They are free animals and we do not keep them here. They are safe in the wild where they belong.” But I’m not 100% sure if that is really what was said. There are free giraffes in Niger and unfortunately I never got to see them magnificently roaming the plains.

They had some dinosaur fossils and other artifacts from days gone by and I talked with the man guarding the dinosaur for a few minutes IN FRENCH about when and where the bones were discovered. I wished there could have been more descriptions of what the artifacts were in English, though, because I am pretty sure that some of the stuff I was looking at was beyond ancient and even though I could’ve reached over and touched stuff—it was probably priceless. I was curious and my French just couldn’t carry my scientific questions.

Side note about French: the past few days I have been having French lessons which means that for hours at a time I am speaking French. I am pleased to announce that I can speak French. My teacher is very nice and looks for the meaning within my words which leaves me feeling like I am straight up speaking French. I just talk and talk in the present tense like it’s nobody’s business throwing in English words with French accents whenever needed and just go to town. Grammar? No need! We’re all friends here, just have confidence and speak French! Unfortunately, before I get to Madagascar all confident, I will be in Paris for 24 hours and this linguistic confidence is sure to be burst even when ordering a coca cola light. It’s been really cool feeling safe and comfortable enough to even speak crazy Monica French. I hope I will be able to continue with French in addition to Malagasy.

And to end it all we got to shop with local vendors. I bought some fabric art. Again, in my crazy Monica French, I was able to get the price cut in half with my linguistic savvy. As they say in France, it was good fun! “The Museum” was great and it was fun to see this side of Niger—to see some history, some art and some beautiful animals.

I also got to use the internet which was at least as exciting as the chimpanzee interaction since I this is only the second time I have used the internet since mid-October. I don’t miss it too much, I just wish I could post these blogs when they actually happen.

MADAGASCAR PLACEMENT

2009-12-03T05:05:00.000-08:00

I’M MOVING TO MADAGASCAR NEXT WEEK, KAI FA? November 27th 2009

It’s official as of today: I will be going to Madagascar next week for training to become a Peace Corps Volunteer (yup, I’m still not officially one of those). Since I don’t have access to the internet I cannot share much with you (yet) about this country. From what I know, Madagascar is a beautiful place and has extensive need for Peace Corps volunteers (still in “one of the poorest countries in the world” territory). Madagascar is a large island located near the bottom tip of Africa (parallel to Mozambique—Kenya is North and South Africa is South). The people there speak Malagasi and French. Christianity and Animism are the primary religions. There is some eco-tourism (no doubt, my chances of visitors just quadrupled). I have now exhausted my knowledge of Madagascar. Oh, and yes, there is the Disney film which if I remember correctly has virtually nothing to do with Madagascar.

Madagascar, apparently, is considered the Peace Corps jackpot because it is so beautiful. I am feeling grateful yet again to have another amazing experience. I will be honest; part of me is relieved to not experience 140 degree weather for months on end in Niger. Other than heat, though, Niger is a “jackpot placement” too and I know this place (and the experiences I didn’t get to have) will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Another shift is that I will no longer be a Community Health Education volunteer and am now in the Small Enterprise Development sector. Depending on the village, town or city that I am located in this will mean different things. I will likely be working with women and/or youth to develop (or assist existing) income generating activities like crafts. If I am in a larger city this may be working directly with the government or an NGO to that end as well (microfinance). In my spare time, it is up to me to develop relevant secondary projects. These could be related to health, informal language and literacy teaching, fistula prevention/education/treatment and last but not least composing an album fusing together Malagasi, Nigerien and Folk influences.

If you know me at all, you know that I am not a business oriented person. I have spent many dark nights of the soul agonizing over a world system in which money, and not humanity, is all that matters. Tightening the bottom line means nothing to me because I believe that the bottom line is never money and is always our holistic welfare as a global community. The beauty of this assignment is that the bottom line doesn’t have to be about money. If a family has more money that means food, healthcare, an empowered feeling as well as additional educational opportunities for children whose labor is no longer needed.

I see this new assignment as a special opportunity. It is more development oriented than many other Peace Corps sectors and as such will give me a strong sense of how development works (and doesn’t work). I hope the model the Peace Corps advocates is effective. (Sigh, that’s a lot of trust I’m giving and a lot of trust that will be given to me.)

Extra perks related to this are:

1) Empowering women (I’d say that’s my favorite past time, but I’m not sure I’ve actually gotten to ever “do” it, it’s certainly been done to me though and I’d like to return the favor)

2) I might have electricity (although, if I had to choose between electricity and running water I’d go with running water for sure)

3) It leads me closer to my chance meeting (and subsequent friendship) of Barack Obama at the 50th Anniversary of the Peace Corps in Kenya. He hasn’t announced the trip to Kenya yet, but in my opinion it’s a natural course of events (including the chance meeting and subsequent friendship and potential gig as his speech writer—I do, after all, have more qualifications than just happening to be on his staff).

My new mailing address (letters and packages that have already been sent to Niger will be forwarded to me):

Monica Yancey, PCT

Bureau de corps de la paix

B.P. 12091

Poste Zoom Ankorondrano

Antananarivo 101

Madagascar

“If you have come to help me you can go home. But if you see my struggle as part of your own survival, then perhaps we can work together.” Australian Aborigine Woman

2009-12-03T05:04:00.000-08:00

November 25th 2009

My perception of the world has already been permanently changed.

Before I came here I was filled uncertainty and fear about going to one of (or the) poorest countries in the world. I agonized over what that would mean and what that would feel like. I can testify that it is real. Nobody is exaggerating. Poverty is real and virtually all Americans live rich compared to how people live here.

Being here reminds me in a way of the most interesting and disturbing temporary job I have ever had. For one week I worked as a transcriber with a company that was doing employee interviews at a nuclear research facility. I was literally in the room with nuclear weapons manufacturers. They were nice and normal people. Mostly, people complained about office politics in the interviews. Although nuclear weapons continue to freak me out, it was a beautiful lesson about how there is no true enemy—not even nuclear weapons manufacturers who, as it turns out, are more stressed out about Bob in the Compliance Department than they are about nuclear warfare.

Experiencing the country of Niger, even for six weeks, has also been a beautiful lesson—but a lesson about something else I am afraid of: poverty. Poverty is real and it isn’t okay. No mother wants her baby to die. No woman (or young woman) wants to develop fistula. No one wants to have AIDS. No one wants to have lost multiple family members to Malaria. No man wants to feel incapable of feeding his family. Nobody would rather have a life twenty years shorter because of where they happen to be born. And from the women I know who have been pregnant there is a consensus: women don’t want to be pregnant for the majority of their adult life. Niger is a “people live in less than a dollar a day” country and that has a lot of ramifications regarding quality of life.

But it is paradoxical. Niger should be sending people the United States for Nigerien Peace Corps. Niger doesn’t just need us, we need Niger. There are ideas here and ways of life here that we would be better off knowing. The family structure is largely intact and rural life is hard (no doubt) but community firmly exists. I guess it’s the irony of going somewhere to teach and instead finding myself very deeply a student. Life is so different here. In some ways it is a thousand times harder, yet in other ways it is easier. I will probably never be able to explain what I have seen to myself let alone those of you who are reading this blog. This paradox does not mean that everything is fine. Everything is not fine. But pity is not the answer. Fear is definitely not the answer. Only looking at things through dollar a day lens is not the answer. The annual United Nations poor country competition is not the answer. It is more complicated than that. Thus sayeth Monica, expert of all things Nigerien after six weeks.

Discussions of poverty often end (or begin) with some variation of a “but they are happy” argument. “It’s too bad that people are living in poverty, but they are happy so at least there’s that.” It is true that in Niger smiling and laughter exist (thankfully). However, the “but they are happy” observation is perhaps better located in a discussion of what really makes us happy as human beings and not as a terminal argument in discussions related to poverty. We know from personal experience that an excess of material goods does not equate happiness. We also know that the human spirit is capable of finding joy in even the most trying set of circumstances. The resilience of the human spirit does not mandate a passive approach to human suffering.

So what is the answer? I obviously don’t know and there isn’t one anyway (to be sure) but I will say that in Niger, there is a feeling of gratitude and that is something I think we could learn a lot from in the United States.

I think many of us in the United States (myself included) fall more into a category of greed. Let me speak for myself. Instead of gratitude, I have often I just wanted more (things, clothes, space, higher ceilings, better thread counts) and I’ve only been grateful that I don’t have less. The knowledge that I am (comparatively) filthy rich makes me afraid of poverty. Afraid it could happen to me. This makes me feel greedy and scared—like hoarding while feeling guilty about it. There is beauty in this, though, because when poverty declines it benefits us all. Poverty isn’t just about poor people. We are all impacted by the realities of each other. What is the saying? Until all of us are free, none of us are free. Thus seethe Monica, expert on United States culture since 1979.

THANKSGIVING

2009-12-03T05:02:00.005-08:00

My first Thanksgiving in Africa has been wonderful. A group of fellow trainees coordinated the buying, preparation and cooking of a Thanksgiving dinner for sixty people. It was at this dinner that I saw the largest amount of mashed potatoes that I have ever witnessed in my entire life.
For the tradition, we went around and said what we were thankful for which was a touching and emotional moment for everyone particular due to our impending departure. I said something like this: I am grateful for every single thing in my life right now. The Peace Corps is amazing. The training here is the highest quality training I have ever received in my entire life and I have never been treated with so much respect, attention and love. (Seriously, the training here is spectacular—you cannot imagine how well they treat us).
I am also grateful for my support system in the states. Nothing like up and moving to Africa for two years to show you how many people care about you (an unintended and impressive side effect of Peace Corps service). I really did not anticipate the amount of love and support that I have been graciously given just for deciding to join the Peace Corps.
I am grateful for my family who I got to talk to today. I am not grateful that I didn’t get to eat my mom’s mashed potatoes today, but I guess that’s life.
I can’t believe I am leaving Niger having only been here a few weeks. Time is such a different experience here because of how profoundly my environment has changed. I feel like I have been here for months, if not a year. And it is sad to leave. Because of the political situation in Niger (the President has rewritten the constitution to create a longer term for himself without voting) many NGO’s have left Niger in recent months and now I’m leaving too. I hope that the people of Niger do not continue to be punished by circumstances largely outside of their control. I don’t know how much good Peace Corps actually does in Niger but based on my demystification it is a mutually beneficial relationship in which the villages in Niger receive accurate information designed to improve their quality of life.
Tomorrow I find out where I am being sent (Mali or Madagascar) and what I am doing there (Health, Education or Small Business Development). I am getting my “invitation” all over again.
But Niger, I will never forget. It may sound melodramatic but experiencing this place has changed me in ways I am unable to articulate. I am grateful for that.

RELOCATION POSSIBLE (NOVEMBER 25TH 2009)

2009-12-03T05:02:00.001-08:00

Things change fast in the Peace Corps (also known as, the government works very quickly when it wants to). Yesterday, I was planning to spend the next two years of my life in Niger. I stayed up late writing grammar charts for the Hausa language and felt excited to finally be having language breakthroughs. Today, I learned that most my training team will be relocated to Madagascar next week. A few of us may wind up in other Peace Corps countries based on our individual medical clearances and qualifications. There was another attempted kidnapping in Mali last weekend, near the border of Niger—this aided the decision to ship those of us being trained to a new location. Established volunteers will remain in Niger. This decision was made primarily for safety reasons. The hope is that things will continue on with Peace Corps in Niger, but since they closed a region due to the US Embassy kidnapping they now have more volunteers than they have volunteer sites. Additionally, the new people (that would be me) don’t have the language skills and cultural skills to be as safe as the volunteers who are already acclimated to the culture. In other words, I am not at a place where I can really tell when something is weird—to me everything is weird and as such I can’t make safe decisions about who is weird.

I had no idea that this would happen. I sincerely hope that the people who work for the Peace Corps in Niger are able to keep their jobs in the long term and that is my strongest opinion related to this entire ordeal. The Peace Corps operates ethically in this country giving respectable wages and providing steady employment and the people who would be the most impacted by this are the people who live here for real. This includes one of my language teachers who cheerfully agreed to give me hours and hours of one on one tutoring. His name is Sane and he applied to Kansas State a few years ago and was accepted but couldn’t find the money to go. Kansas State, you ask? I know, right? But Sane wants to go to Kansas State. We also share music. Yesterday I played the Dead Perez song “I’m a African” (listener discretion advised) and that went over pretty well. He, and his colleagues, is why this makes me sad. This may lead to the entire country closing (right now, it’s just this group of trainees leaving). The training staff is incredibly awesome. I have never been treated so well and taken care of so fully. Niger is also a country that has incredible use for health education, what I was to do, so I am sad for the young women I never got to meet. Maybe that sounds self-centered, but as physically challenging as it is to be in such a hot country—I always thought it was equally meaningful and had elaborate day dreams about young women I would help in some way.

The positives of this situation are largely unknown except for one. Madagascar is geographically the opposite of Niger. It is a beautiful island. Imagine facing two years in the hottest and dustiest country imaginable and then finding out that you are going to an island that has rainforests and mountains? I can’t help but be relieved—when it comes to heat.

I am totally grateful to have been in Niger. It is beautiful and the people of Niger are really as awesome as you hear (if, that is, you’ve ever heard). It is a friendly, open and inviting culture. It is also safe. The people who are doing the kidnappings are not indicative of Niger. It’s like saying the United States is a bad place because of Columbine.

CONSOLIDATION (NOVEMBER 16TH 2009)

2009-12-03T05:01:00.001-08:00

Less than a week ago a group of heavily armed people stormed into a hotel in Niger and attempted to kidnap five people (three of them where American Embassy workers). Luckily, their operation failed. Immediately all Peace Corps people were “consolidated” into the major regions and had to await some sort of decision regarding this. As it stands right now I am forced to stay on the site (which I don’t actually mind) and hope for the best. Much rests on the motives of the kidnappers as well as their potential affiliations.

My group has been safely tucked away in a training site which is guarded and completely safe. All volunteers (country-wide) are in similar locations (guarded locations). Worst case scenario is that the kidnappers are affiliated with a bad people and specifically sought to attack Americans. In this case, the Peace Corps in Niger would possibly shut down. Best case scenario is that these losers are just an example of an isolated, rare and disorganized attempt to get money out of foreigners. Either way, the Peace Corps has decided to close the entire region where the attack occurred (so there is no chance I will be even remotely close to where this occurred).

If they cancel the Peace Corps in Niger, I would likely have the option to 1) quit or 2) choose another country to finish my service in. The people most affected by a decision like this would the people who work for the Peace Corps in Niger (Nigeriens) and the villages who will not get a volunteer any time soon. Although it is an inconvenience for me, ultimately the impacts of this rest more heavily on others.

The Peace Corps does not want a single volunteer to be harmed in any way. I will trust their decision making unless I have a reason not to. At this point the Peace Corps has shown extensive care and concern for the volunteers and I feel like I am in safe hands.

As it stands, no major changes will occur with Peace Corps in Niger unless the worst case scenario I mentioned above is discovered.

Since Niger doesn’t typically make U.S. News, you can track country specific information at the State Department website. Specifically, you can visit the website for the United States Embassy in Niger.

FASHION SHOW

2009-12-03T05:00:00.000-08:00

Our trainers organized a fashion show for us. We got to put on beautiful Nigerien clothes and strut on a catwalk. It was fun and as you can see I had the cutest outfit. Several of the volunteers dressed up with specific ethnic groups in mind so the fashion show was also educational. We even learned about the meanings of facial scarring (a tradition for many of the ethnic groups in Niger).

FUN

2009-12-03T04:59:00.001-08:00

There is no shortage of fun even in the midst of Peace Corps training. The trainers organized a Nigerien Olympics for us. We had to carry water on our heads with a baby (bean bag) strapped out our backs and greet villagers as part of an obstacle course. I thought the addition of greeting neighbors was hilarious. We also pounded peanuts to create peanut butter and made tea from scratch. My team didn’t win but we made a 1st place cup of tea.

To repay the trainers, and to show our thanks in general, we created an American Olympics for them. The obstacle course included a sack race and the limbo. Naturally, we also coordinated pin the tail on the donkey, tug of war, a three legged race and musical chairs. The musical chairs event was hysterical and instantaneously a memory I will cherish forever. I can’t describe it, but seriously, it was a hit. I am pretty sure that musical chairs will be the new favorite game in all of West Africa judging by its initial reception. I have never seen anything like it. To make it even funnier, the DJ (Caroline) picked truly American music like “I’m a Barbie Girl” “Toxic” and “I’m Bringing Sexy Back.” The city kids peeked into the training site and I am sure were very jealous of all the fun the adults were having. To end the American Olympics we made a sign for our trainers to show them once and for all that we will never forget their kindness.

TABASKI

2009-12-03T04:58:00.001-08:00

Before leaving Niger, I had the chance to celebrate Tabaski. Tabaski is a Muslim holiday which references two things: first it is the day that people arrive in Mecca which is considered a very special day and second, it is reminiscent of the story of Abraham (you know the one, where the lamb is sacrificed instead of the child). Needless to say, before I personally celebrated Tabaski I considered it a vegetarian’s nightmare. All I knew was that animals were slaughtered and meat was a central focus.

However, the festive mood in the village and the high spirits of everyone around me were contagious. I also know how to refuse meat: “Bani cin nama,” which I didn’t have to do too much. After the animals (goats and I believe sheep as well) are slaughtered, they are cooked and shared with everyone which creates a very communal feeling with people walking from house to house with trays of meat. Another fun aspect of this holiday is that everyone gets very dressed up for the shared prayer service. The moments of silence in the prayer service were quite beautiful. Maybe someday I’ll get to have another Tabaski!

We have also had two information sessions on Islam and its impacts on Nigerien culture. Many people seem to think that it is the faith of the people in Niger that makes Niger such a kind hearted place. It has been explained to me that the religious belief here is very centered upon taking care of your neighbor.

I keep telling my Nigerien teachers that Niger is a lot like Utah which is true. Here, religion is a part of daily life, no one drinks alcohol, large families are the norm and there is a conservative social dynamic. As far as I’m concerned Niger is the Utah of Africa. I spotted a man in a rural village a few weeks ago wearing a Utah Jazz jersey which further solidifies my case.

NIGERIEN RECIPE

2009-12-03T04:57:00.001-08:00

Moringa leaves are one of the most nutritious foods in the world. And I learned a recipe with them today that I will share with all of you. This recipe could be used fairly easily in schools or homes to start a discussion about Niger. For starters, you could discuss how amazing Moringa leaves are. When you make the meal, just use a big bowl for mixing and a pounder for smooshing up the garlic. No electricity allowed! And don’t forget to eat the finished result with your hands (with your right hand only). This a very nutritious and delicious treat that is common in Niger (it’s even sold on the streets as though it were a hot dog). Forgive my recipe writing skills—hopefully this will do the trick.

Moringa Leaves (boil until soft, remove stems) if you can’t find Moringa use spinach, or just use the leaves from a tree in your backyard 

Onion, Tomato, Garlic, Chile, Bouillon, Salt and Peanut Butter—chop veggies and mix all ingredients together, then add leaves and mix together again. Add water when mixing so that it is mixable after you add the peanut butter.

5-7 cups of cooked leaves

2 onions

1 tomato

½ clove garlic

2-3 small chiles

1-2 bouillon

1 tsp salt

2-3 cups peanut butter (creamy)

*Amounts are approximate. It should not be runny, it should be like spinach doe sort of. It should be a little bit spicy and very leafy. Sort of looks like spinach artichoke dip but significantly less runny.*

(You could add milk or coconut milk and heat it up and serve it with fresh peanuts over rice if you wanted Thai-ify it).

A POST OF ITS OWN

2009-12-03T04:56:00.001-08:00

This evening, I saw a chariot spider. It was the biggest spider I have ever seen in my entire life that was not in a cage. It was the size of a tarantula, just as chunky. It was sitting on the door of the bathroom, just hanging out, and I almost walked right into it. Luckily some deep part of me that I never had to tap into before now sounded an insect alarm and I scurried to safety. One of the men who works here killed it casually with his flip flop.

Top Ten Adjustments in Niger

2009-12-03T04:54:00.001-08:00

1. HEAT. Niger is a very hot country. Before I came here I wasn’t terribly worried about the heat. In my spoiled little head it didn’t occur to me that not only is Niger incredibly hot—it is also very poor. This means that I am basically never inside and only rarely able to enjoy the magic of air-conditioning and/or a cold drink. Adjusting to the heat has been the most difficult thing and I am a person who likes hot weather. It’s that bad. Niger: it’s like camping in August forever.

2. LACK OF PRIVACY. Privacy is not something that is important in Nigerien culture. Also, during training there aren’t a lot of opportunities for privacy. I have a roommate who sleeps a few feet from me and I am almost always with someone. This may reassure those of you who are concerned for my safety. I have started using my ear phones to create a forth wall between me and reality.

3. FOOD. First of all, I eat with my hands which isn’t something I have done regularly since I was a young child. I definitely like eating with my hands (well, with my right hand) because…well just because it is more sensual than eating with utensils. However, many an evening I long for a spoon or a fork—just for something different. I also eat from a communal bowl with the family I am living with. I also eat rice for lunch and dinner every day with some variation in sauces. Most sauces are made from leaves and are quite tasty. The adjustment part is a lack of variety in foods as well as a general taste of goat meat. I am not eating goat, but my foods are cooked with goat. On the up side, now I know what goat tastes like.

4. LATRINE TOILETS. Having hiked miles upon miles, I was not nervous in the least about using a latrine toilet (a hole in the ground) but it is something I do not enjoy. The toilet I use is getting pretty full and if you look into it (and I always do for aiming reasons) I see thousands of maggots. At certain times of day, when I move the cover off, dozens of flies come out. Needless to say, this isn’t a fun thing to do several times a day. I am sure I will adjust. This point is also gross enough I feel it necessary to urge all of you to not judge Niger negatively based on this point. It is just reality when you don’t have running water. On the up side, I am sure that I have saved a lot of water using my latrine toilet!

5. SLEEPING OUTSIDE. This has been and remains one of my favorite parts of being in Niger. When I wake up during the night I see a million stars glowing above my head. When I start waking up in the morning I see the sunrise. In my sleeping state every night I forget that I am in Niger so these little moments are always a delightful shock to me. I am expecting to see a ceiling and instead I see the glorious sky.

6. CHILDREN. The kids in this village are a little bored of the Peace Corps visitors but they still do some typical things like follow me around and call me “Anasara” which means white person (at least I think that’s what it means). When I am in a good mood I practice my Hausa and my French with the children. When I am not feeling friendly I acknowledge the kids and don’t chat. Yesterday was particularly trying as I was sitting under a tree writing in my journal and four little boys stared at me. This goes back to the privacy point. Eventually (after about ten minutes of non-engagement) they left. I will be happy to have the language skills to navigate things like this more effectively and more politely. Fifty percent of the population of Niger is under 15 years old so there are children everywhere. In this way, Niger is a lot like Utah.

7. LACK OF ELECTRICTY AND RUNNING WATER. I knew this going in but nothing can prepare you for the shock of it all. I never knew what a blessed thing electricity is if for no other reason than the use of fans and cold drinks. I have missed running water a lot as well when using the bathroom and washing my hands. I do wash my hands in a bucket but it isn’t the same. At least not emotionally. There is something so satisfying about washing your hands in a sink. Go ahead and do that once today and think of me.

8. TRASH. I still haven’t wrapped my head around the garbage situation here and I will probably write more thoughtfully about it later. Essentially, the streets in this village are covered in garbage including plastic wrappers, containers from items purchased, animal feces and even bits of bones from animals. Before you judge the people of Niger remember that the United States consumes more material goods than any other country on the planet and as such has more waste. The difference is that in Niger, there is no Tuesday morning trash pickup. We see the garbage. If the trash was all over the streets in the US and not dealt with in some formal way (like shipping it to 3rd world countries or to space) we wouldn’t even be able to go for a walk. Still, it isn’t easy on the eyes and it raises sanitation concerns what with bare feet tromping around.

9. ANIMALS/NOISE. I have not lived on a farm or been around animals until now. Every day I see donkeys, cows, chickens, goats, camels, dogs, cats and sheep. They are in my house and on the street. Three goats and a sheep sleep near my head. I would like to give a shout out to April Kinney whose impersonation of a sheep is dead on—I never knew. Aside from walking past animals many times a day, the biggest adjustment here is the incredible and incessant amounts of noise these animals produce. For the record, goats sound like screaming women. Also donkeys…where to begin with donkeys. First, donkeys must experience pain when they make their sound. Second, donkeys get each other going in the middle of the night much like neighborhood dogs. And finally, the sound of donkeys is like something out of a science fiction novel—utterly bizarre. Remember, there is no absolute “inside” so human noises are more noticeable as well. Just this morning, listening to the village, I was reminded of an apartment I stayed at in NYC that was on a particularly busy street. Even humans are very noisy without doors and windows to block us from each other’s sounds.

10. BUCKET SHOWER. Each morning I bathe with approximately a gallon of water. It is the opposite of gratifying. I am hoping in time to perfect this skill and in turn come to enjoy it. I also shower a couple of feet from my little latrine friends.

Demystification with Jessica

2009-12-03T04:53:00.001-08:00

It’s Peace Corps tradition to send new volunteers in training out to a real Peace Corps post to be “Demystified” (yes, they really call it that). I was curious about this process but also hoping to have some mystery left in me afterwards.

My “Demyst” took place the past four days. I was very lucky because the woman whose post I was sent to happens to be the same woman whose blog I read while I was still in the United States and gearing up for my service. I already knew she was amazing and doing great projects. Indeed, many an afternoon I spent reading over her blog and crying (since it was so touching). This was a rare opportunity to see firsthand all of the people and places I had read about. Because I found her stories so compelling it was emotional for me to witness her relationships and accomplishments. She only has a few weeks left, so I was seeing her finale. Although we are basically strangers I felt very connected to her process and also honored to have seen her lovely universe with my own eyes.

During this time in her village I had many firsts (as usual). The most sobering aspect of the visit was just meeting people. I felt very emotional off and on through the visits to homes of her neighbors and met dozens of people. I was saddened to see what appeared to be malnourished or sick children and babies. I was excited to see chubby babies whose mother had taken them to feeding centers. It definitely hit me that once respect id developed, villages are receptive to the Peace Corps. People thanked me several times as I walked around—and as you all know I haven’t actually done anything yet so that was unexpected. It also hit me that there is a village waiting for me.

I also rode a bush taxi for the first time during this visit. It was an open back truck with approximately 60 people in it and as much stuff. Needless to say it took me about 15 minutes (balancing on two toes with one finger on a bar for support) to adjust my sense of etiquette. Sure enough though, I elbowed my way in (amongst an elderly woman and nursing mothers) and found a seat. But the end of the two hour ride I was nestled in the bottom of the truck and basically couldn’t move. I did find a moment in it all to picture my potential visitors in similar circumstances and mentally cross people off the list, as in, “Nah, really couldn’t picture Person X in this truck.” I also spent about an hour staring at the fair trade label on my bag.

During my demystification I had the chance to do my first real Peace Corps project which was to help paint and draw a map of the world. We didn’t finish but it was exciting to have a little task. The map will end up in the villages school and I definitely think it’s important that young people have something interesting to stare at when they are in school—and what better thing to examine than a map of the entire world. My own little classroom when I was the suspension lady at Bernalillo High School had many neat things on the walls for just this purpose. I also got to see the regional hostel where the volunteers do computer related work, trade books and drink cold sodas. This is where I tried on my first turban with a fellow Peace Corps volunteer who began wearing one to hide the tooth he lost earlier that day eating sugar cane.

At one point in my visit I asked Jessica (my Peace Corps hero), “What is the hottest country in the world?” I paused, afraid to hear the answer—beads of sweat all over my body….. She answered, “Niger.” In some ways this is validating because the heat here is been very close to unbearable and it is apparently “cold season” but mostly it just made me sad—because it is really hot and that sucks. I am never inside. I am sometimes in shade. The heat is overwhelming. I have been assured that my body will adjust.

So, I’ve now been demystified. Niger is truly hot and truly poor. I feel a bit like John Griffin of Black like Me in the sense that I am an outsider coming into a situation just to prove to other outsiders that the situation is real. I am just stating the obvious, “All that stuff you hear…it’s real, and it’s true.” I guess I needed to see it first hand and many some of you need to vicariously see it first hand through me.

I still have mystery left in me though—the mystery of how it is that I am going to accomplish my goal to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. This goes back to the one day at a time philosophy. This will take more strength than I think I have so wish me luck.

And off topic, for those of you who love or hate insects—my friend Jackson had a scorpion inside of his bed last night. Just another reminder to tuck in your mosquito net—it isn’t just for mosquitoes!

My First Two Weeks in Niger

2009-12-03T04:52:00.001-08:00

In retrospect, it may have been wise to visit the “third world” once or twice before diving face first into the hottest and poorest country in the world for twenty seven months. I say this because my experience of Niger is shocking and overwhelming. I can’t help but wonder if some of this adjustment is bloated by knowing that I am not visiting….I’m here for 27 months. On top of this is the reality that most of the things I see every day I have never seen before.

Each novelty is more intense and more sobering that it would likely be if I knew I was simply visiting. Nothing is simply “interesting” or “neat” because this is my new home—not my vacation destination. Not that anyone really vacations in Niger.

Here are two examples of the adjustment I face.

Every day I see something I have never seen before. Today I saw a “Health Hut” that was located outside of the village I am visiting. The health hut here I s essentially the doctor and clinic for a few villages (approximately 6,000) people. It is a small two room building with a close of basic medicines. I still have everything to learn about Nigerien health care but I couldn’t help thinking about all of the people I know who would be dead if this was their health care facility. After thinking about that for about thirty seconds I realized that I wouldn’t even exist since my mother had rheumatic fever as a child and my father had polio. If I was born, through some miracle, my mother would have died in childbirth. There are hospitals as well, and I will be learning about that. Unfortunately, my “Who would be dead” thought experiment stands.

Another example of my adjustment is the total lack of cheese. Those of you who have ever watched me prepare a meal for myself know that I eat a lot of cheese ever day. Fresh milk, and therefore fresh cheeses, in Niger often carries Tuberculosis so I am advised to never eat it. There are ways around this (boiling your butter or milk and then eating it) but I don’t think I will really ever eat cheese while I am here. I shall live my Nigerien life cheese-less. Times like this, I ask myself, is there a god who would let this happen?

The past weeks have been overwhelming in every possible way. I could give 100 more serious and funny examples and over time I probably will. For now, I simply remind myself a dozen times a day that the only true obstacle I face is each day. I try not to think about 27 months stretching before me!

Off To Niger

2009-10-20T22:00:00.000-07:00

I leave tomorrow for Niger.

I feel calm and at peace with this decision at this moment.

This post is simply to beg for letters and packages and to warn all of you that I won't be able to communicate for 1-2 months by telephone or internet.

Thank you so much for all of your love and support. It means so much to me and I sincerely appreciate it.

I hope that this journey is worth all of the tears and heart ache that it has already caused.

Special shout out to Ashley Yancey: I love you and I am always with you no matter how far away I am.

Much love to everyone. Thank you so much for your support.

Taurus Horoscope, Two Days To Departure = Good Mojo

2009-10-17T00:53:00.000-07:00

Right now you're like a sulking cherry tree that hasn't bloomed for years but then inexplicably erupts with pink flowers in mid-autumn. You're like a child prodigy who lost her mojo for a while and then suddenly recovers it when her old mentor comes back into her life after a long absence. You're like a dormant volcano that without any warning spurts out a round of seemingly prophetic smoke signals on the eve of a great victory for the whole world.

Rob Brezsny, Free Will Astrology

Peace Corps Commercials

2009-10-10T14:31:00.000-07:00

These are quite entertaining.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MIvHPJw9pf8 (Glass Half Full)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YU5eKMPcO1M (Welding)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmSm_szFUfI&NR=1 (Compilation, "Hand Shake")

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fv6ECDW5ykQ (Egg Propaganda)

United Nations Report (also known as "uh what did I sign up for exactly")

2009-10-06T20:14:00.000-07:00

"Our world is very unequal," reads the first line of the Annual United Nations Human Development Report (2009).   It then lists Niger as the lowest ranked country in the entire world in terms of: 1) a long and healthy life, as measured by life expectancy at birth; 2)  access to knowledge, as measured by the adult literacy rate and the combined gross enrolment ratio in education; and 3) a decent standard of living, as measured by GDP per capita in purchasing power parity (PPP) US dollars.

http://hdr.undp.org/en/media/HDR_2009_EN_Summary.pdf

This report *might* cut down on the amount of visitors I get in Niger.

I wonder, though, what it is that they aren't measuring.   I wonder if there was a rating schedule put in place by the countries on the bottom of this list what they would choose to measure--what would be important--and where developed countries would rank.    Maybe things like: hours of television watched per day, hours of shopping per day, amount of pharmaceutical consumption, hours spent working....

I have a lot to learn.   Wish me luck.

Two weeks to departure.

Nice White Lady

2009-09-23T12:46:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZVF-nirSq5s (Watch this video first!)

There is a great line in Al Gore's Inconvenient Truth (which I am recalling only from memory)—where he says that many people approach global warming with three stages--denial, knowledge and then despair. He suggests that there are more choices than that--despair needn't be the natural progression of increased knowledge. We can create a world where we have no reason for despair. When it comes to my own understanding of race and racism, I have too often fallen prey to either denial or despair, only briefly pausing to experience knowledge.

I will be serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer for the United States Government in Niger, Africa for the next 27 months as a Community Health Educator. One of the issues with my Peace Corps Service is my own discomfort with being Nice White Lady. My problem with being a Nice White Lady really lies in the reality that as an outsider I do not know what’s best for a culture I am not a part of. I could go on and on. Of course, I don’t mind being an actual nice white lady (I am white and I do tend to be nice). However, the savior motif as seen in the Nice White Lady film genre is ridiculous at best.

"Whitely" is a term introduced to me by Dr. Fred Lee--it describes a white person who is (often obnoxiously) unaware of how his or her privilege and worldview are impacted by their racial identity. Dr. Lee said to me, "You can be white, but you don't have to be whitely." In other words, you can't help being Caucasian, nor would anyone suggest that you do, but you can try to think about your racial identity once in awhile in relation to other people and make choices from a thoughtful space. (I tried to find the original "whitely" source but could not--excuse my simplified definition).

In my experience, white people don't typically face discrimination based on skin color and even when they do it differs from the racism that people of color face—if for no other reason than historical context and the power that historical context carries. Actually thinking about race, for me at least, has been a conscious decision. To compare, no one had to explain feminism to me--I totally understood gender inequity ten seconds after I was born. Race, however, has been a different process because I was born into a system where my race was absent, natural, default and normal. In short, I was born white and whitely.

So what now?

The opportunity to be in the Peace Corps is not something I take lightly and if I didn’t believe that I could spend my time in Niger in a meaningful and non-whitely way I would not be going. I want to help when help is needed (and not help when it isn't). I know ultimately, it is me going to Niger, not a Nice White Lady. But let’s face it—I can't go to Niger without being a white person. I have to wonder what that will mean. I wonder what the impacts of my racial identity will be on those around me.

I am going to keep Al Gore's idea in mind here and try not to used increased knowledge as a quick stepping stone from denial (white and whitely) to despair (nothing I can do).

Ignorance would be bliss if it didn’t harm those who have no choice but to see. It is for this reason that I choose knowledge over denial and despair.

In Niger, I will be white, but hopefully I will not be whitely.

The Thought Doctor

2009-09-17T18:22:00.000-07:00

As you can imagine, joining the Peace Corps produces a lot of fear and anxiety and continuing with the process requires a high threshhold for such fears. I have been listening to some great audio CD's about positive thinking and enjoying them so much I went ahead and googled the author. As it turns out, she lives in SLC so within a day or two of emailing her I had an appointment for some one on one.

I went to see her tonight.   She was excellent. Her name is Christiane Turner (for those of you who live in Salt Lake City) and you too can go see the thought doctor (google her).

I won't bore you will all of the details, but I will share some of my own insights during the process in order to recall the session and increase it's effectiveness.

First, the act of stating my hopes and fears to another person was powerful.   She was very sweet and encouraging. I laughed and even cried a little. Sometimes it feels safer to pretend that I don't really care about something when I do. But admitting it felt more powerful than I would have imagined.

I think the coolest part is that she had me imagine that I was my hero, that I was my older self, that I was my most inspiring friend--and then have those people give me love and advisement.   She recommended that I call upon their energies whenever I wish, that in my mind, they can always be there to support me.

I really stepped in to what I imagine these people feel like internally and it was so interesting because the feelings I had are mostly foreign to me as of yet.   In an instant I had their confidence and in that moment I felt more like a peer than a student.   Like we were all on the same path even though they seemed further along.

She had me imagine what each of these people would say to me and then imagine myself hearing it.

The idea is that your brain can't tell fact from imagination--so this exercise really "happened" on some level. It definitely felt like it. And I know from experience that feelings beget feelings--in other words, a rut can form in your brain with specific reactions and feeling states.   So I'm down with the my hero is talking to me feeling state.

I'm going to practice her tips and strategies and I know it will help me out.

Thanks Christaine!

Hopes, Fears and My Brain (One Month Before Departure)

2009-09-16T15:47:00.000-07:00

In four short weeks my life will drastically change in every possible way. When I applied for the Peace Corps last November I had already thought about it for two months. I tend to require about one hundred hours of thought for every one hour of action. The problem is, I don't have enough time to think this Peace Corps thing through before it occurs. I have only thought about it seriously for one year.

The problem with my 100/1 thinking ratio is that it causes mental paralysis. This is something that occurs in universities and I think that may be where I learned it (although it suited my existing style). At what point do we stop thinking and start acting? Is an imperfect act better than 100 hours of well meaning thought? The idea of "helping" another culture is so wrought with complications it causes many people, including myself, to do nothing at all. Well, I can't do anything because everything I do can be critiqued.

I remember as a graduate student feeling sometimes that higher education was too destructive. We would analyze things until there appeared to be nothing left. I want to build, to create, to dream. I want to do these things as intelligently as possible. Pointing out the problems of a thing is useful--but never continuing and trying to pose solutions makes it a wasted mental exercise. Perhaps teachers simply want to turn your brain on and then they hope you will teach yourself to act in the wake of your self-consciousness. I don't regret my studies or my brain. I'm just trying to figure out how to have this brain and to actually do something with it besides think.

My hopes and fears have transformed in past weeks under the light of knowing it is real.

My fears are more concrete and plain-sounding. Today, for example, I learned of a new expression, "Riding it hot." This is where you have diarrhea and have to be transported by bush taxi to a city for medical care. At some point in the transit you shit your pants and then sit in it for hours. In some cases, it the poop of another person that causes you to "ride it hot." As you can imagine, this does not sound appealing to me. My old fears of "can I make a difference" and "can I emotionally endure seeing poverty" seem abstract in the wake of adult diaper rash. If I do have to "ride it hot" I think I will also "ride it chunky" because that experience will surely cause me to throw up.

My hopes were always fairly small. I know that change is complicated. My desire to "change" Niger in some way is cautious. The European colonial spirit of "progress" and "civilization" does float through my unwilling veins but with asterisks, footnotes and question marks throughout. I know a few things, though, that things related to health, literacy and gender equity are safe focus areas for my time. I have come see my brain as a potentially destructive force. I know that Peace Corps service is not truly benign and value-free. I know that my influence may not be positive in some cases. I may be infected with Malaria but will my presence infect the Nigerien people? Will I promote something harmful? Sometimes the most "common sense" ideas are the most destructive of all. I will approach my work as a two way system. What can we teach each other? I will be cautious with my words and my influence. And I will have a couple pair of depends in my hut.

My blog is cute, huh?! Metaphors, art, words...they will come in handy!

2009-09-13T22:23:00.000-07:00

I am starting to imagine this blog as my little internet friend while I am living in Niger and so I decorated it today. I like pictures and quotations and I figured it might make me feel better on one of those, "I really hate camel spiders" or "I can't believe someone ate my cat" or "What was I thinking I can't do this" kind of days.

When that happens I'll just visit my internet friend (my blog) and read all of the inspirational quotations, gaze at the meaningful art and photos and and go about my day slightly uplifted.

I will look at the artwork and pictures of trees which mean to me the equal need to balance connection (roots) with ambition (branches) and the reality that both are intertwined.

The rivers will help me to remember the old man I met hiking in New Jersey who told me that if your life doesn't meander like a stream then you are on the wrong path.

The piece of artwork behind the blog title is called, "Compassion" and it is by Netty Warburton.

I will like all of these things.

If you know me at all, you know I like decorating so I guess it was only a matter of time until I decorated my blog. This may be one of my most "girly" traits. Trust me, I will so totally decorate my home in Niger.

TOP TEN LIST: THINGS I WILL MISS

2009-09-10T03:38:00.000-07:00

Predictably, I am reading "The Insider's Guide to the Peace Corps: What to Know Before You Go" and it is great!

It says: "The greatest hurdle is often a mental one: stepping into the unknown and hoping to find the strength, commitment, and flexibility to see it through." Dillon Banerjee, Cameroon 1994-1996

I find this very comforting.

In other news I have made TWO friends (well, acquaintances) that are also going to Niger. This is awesome. I love the Internet.

SO, THE LIST:

1. Netflix Instant Viewing and Queue. I watch so many documentaries this way. For 20 dollars a month I have learned about the nature of the universe, psychology, animals, all manner of science, extensive history, etc. This past year it has also been my bedtime story. Only I watch disturbing films before bed (for example, this evening I am 1/2 way through Roots and finding it difficult to sleep).

2. Diet Coke. I should not admit this but it is true. I am so addicted to Diet Coke yet it is such a guilty pleasure. I am excited to give it up. I'll pack some aspirin.

3. Dollar Movies. There is nothing like a dollar movie on a Saturday afternoon.

4. My cat. The first true sacrifice of PC is giving up my cat. She currently resides with my very gracious cousin and her husband and children. I hope she is happy there. I miss her already!

5. My cat sleeping on my feet. Bedtime just isn't the same without Daisy cuddled up to my feet.

6. Family & Friends. Don't judge me that this is number six but it goes without saying that I will miss actual people. Especially the people who are kids or teenagers and who will feel years older when I return. I hope they remember how awesome I am. My nephew Cam thinks I am tougher than his dad--my brother Jason--(who is a foot taller than me) because of my bear stories and ability to wrestle--no doubt this will seal the deal: Aunt Monica is part super hero! And then little Ashley who is not so little and who will be even more not little when I return. I'm trying to squeeze in some quality time with her so she doesn't forget that she's my miracle. They are all getting older by the minute and will have to forgive my timing. Maybe they get bragging rights or something for this.

7. The Internet. I love checking my email and this blog has more action on it now than it will when I am gone. How will I read my favorite articles, blogs, and news? How will I obsessively check my email as if I am expecting a personal message from Barack Obama?

8. Music. Although, this may be solve-able.

9. Frito Pie. I know I am going to want a Frito pie within moments of setting foot in Niger. And a breakfast burrito and enchiladas with red chile. I'll probably even want an egg salad sandwich from the Wawa but I can't have that now either.

10. My dog Cocoa. Actually, Cocoa died a couple of years ago, but I still miss her and I can't make a list of things I miss without putting her on it. :)

And that is my top ten list of things I will miss when I am in Niger.

Note: Numbers 4, 5, and 10 may create conflict if I am put in a position where it is culturally appropriate to EAT said animals.

11. Being Vegetarian. It has come to my attention that not only will I possibly be eating meat but I may be eating what is normally considered pets. Wish me luck.

Packing for the Peace Corps in Niger

2009-08-29T19:20:00.000-07:00

It is time to begin thinking about what I should bring to Niger. I have thought very little about packing up until this point.

I am looking for suggestions from people about what to bring. I have read some online packing lists but they appear to be compilations of what EVERYONE thinks is important and it is hard to sort through.

Should I really bring that many clothes when I know I can get a tailor to make more clothes? I was thinking about bringing one of each type of outfit and then having duplicates made when I need to.

How can I listen to music? Should I buy a solar iPod charger (they exist) or should I bring my MP3 player that takes AAA battery? Take both? Should I leave both at home because they are likely to be stolen (which I don't care much about, but hey, if it will happen immediately what is the point)? Should I bring my small speakers that take batteries?

And with a camera--should I bring a camera that charges with batteries (due to not being able to charge it on a computer?)??

So far, I am planning to bring:

Recommended clothes (but less than is recommended)
My favorite brand of floss (lame I know)
Basic travel size toiletries
Guitar (10 sets of strings, Tuner, Capo and Extra Batteries)
Sheet music
MP3/iPod/Speakers Charger
Camera (with dust proof case apparently)
USB
Art Supplies (paper, paints, etc.)
Vegetarian Withdrawal Coping Skills
A bit of stationary
300 gallons of Diet Coke
1-2 books
Small picture album and small decorations (to make the house a home)
Head lamp
Sleeping Bag
Copies of important documents
Six gallons of deet

Okay, so the diet coke and the deet may have to stay behind in the end.

I figure I can get the following things in Niger:

More clothes
More toiletries
More books
Stationary
Writing Journals
Short Wave Radio
Language learning supplies

And when I am sick of the music on my iPod, then what? As you can see, music is my primary concern. :)

Any tips or suggestions????????????

Music in Niger

2009-08-25T16:07:00.000-07:00

On my way home from work today, I popped in a CD that Marta recently bought for me called "World is Africa." It is a mix of all sorts of African music. It's amazing. All of my trepidation has been temporarily forgotten and replaced with excitement about African music.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4VzTagGkpJc (If you pay close attention you can even hear camel sounds...)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K1BfvP7Qa5g

Why and What

2009-08-24T12:01:00.000-07:00

Peace Corps Mission

In 1961, President John F. Kennedy established the Peace Corps to promote world peace and friendship.

The Peace Corps' mission has three simple goals:

Helping the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women.

Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.

Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.

As I am preparing to depart for Peace Corps service, I thought I would take some time to compile some information about Niger for those of you who are interested in learning more about this country.

(Taken from the official Peace Corps Welcome Book.)

COUNTRY OVERVIEW:
NIGER AT A GLANCE

History
People have lived in Niger since prehistoric times, when the Sahara was much wetter and supported abundant wildlife. Hunter-gatherer societies left some magnificent rock art to record their presence in the northern part of the country. Islam came to Niger across the Sahara in the 12th century and gradually spread throughout the country. There were several Muslim kingdoms that spread into what are now Niger, Chad, Nigeria, Burkina Faso, and Mali.

In the late 19th century, the French extended their colonial rule from the Atlantic eastward through Chad, and Niger became part of French West Africa. It gained its independence in 1960.

Government
At independence, Niger became a constitutional democracy, with an elected president and a National Assembly. This government was overthrown in 1974 and Niger was governed by a military dictatorship until 1999. The 1990s were a period of a great political instability.

A 1996 military coup led to the departure of many international aid agencies, including the U.S. Agency for International Development. In late 1999, however, democratic elections were held, and the new government of President Mamadou Tandja brought renewed stability. President Tandja was reelected in 2004, and elections were also held for the newly created local government bodies. With the restoration of democracy, many international donors returned, and there has been renewed economic growth. The next presidential elections are scheduled for 2009.

Economy
Niger’s harsh climate, geographic isolation, lack of natural resources, environmental degradation, and rapid population growth (3.6 percent annually) make it one of the world’s poorest countries, ranking 177 out of 177 on the 2005 United Nation’s Human Development Index. The per capita GDP in 2004 was $228 All of Niger’s economic and social indicators are grim. The following indicators are from a United Nations Development Program report released in 2006:

• Of 1,000 children born, 259 die before their fifth
birthday.
• Thirty-nine percent of school-age children attend
primary school.
• Twenty-seven percent of the population over age 15 is
literate.
• Forty-six percent of households have access to potable
drinking water.
• Forty percent of children under five are below normal
weight.

The majority of the people you work with will be concerned primarily with meeting basic needs that are taken for granted in much of the rest of the world. Niger has few natural resources. There are large uranium deposits near Arlit in the northern part of the country, and in the 1970s, a worldwide uranium boom ushered in a brief period of strong economic growth and infrastructure improvements. In 1980, however, with the decline of the
nuclear power industry, the uranium market collapsed and Niger entered a period of rapid economic deterioration, aggravated by recurrent droughts and political instability. A recent World Bank study found the average Nigérien worse off today than three decades ago. Millet, a type of grain, is the staple food in most of the country. To be eaten, it must be pounded into flour, which is then cooked and eaten with a sauce of vegetables or
occasionally meat. Sorghum, which is also grown, is prepared similarly. Along the Niger River, which runs through the southwestern part of the country, rice and other irrigated crops are common, and rice is a common food in urban areas.

People and Culture
The ethnic groups represented in Niger are Hausa (56 percent), Zarma (22 percent), Fulani (8.5 percent), Tuareg (8 percent), and several others. More than 90 percent of the population is Muslim. Adherents of Islam in Niger tend to be more moderate and tolerant than the fundamentalists who often make headlines in the Western media, and there has been no terrorist activity by such groups in Niger. Indigenous belief systems and Christianity also have numerous practitioners.

French is the official language. It is widely spoken in urban areas and commonly used in government offices, international and nongovernmental organizations, and the media. However, learning one or more of the national languages (Hausa, Zarma, Fulfulde, Tamashek, and others—each tending to predominate in different regions) is a must for living and working in rural areas and becoming integrated into the community.

Niger

2009-08-23T20:38:00.000-07:00

The past few days have been filled with 1,000 questions and no answers.

I've been jealous of people who joined the Peace Corps all my life. I've thought, "I'd like to do that" or "I wish I was doing that."

Let me tell you: doing it is an entirely different experience than wishing it and I haven't even done anything yet.

It's easy to get caught up in the monetary differences (as in, Whoa, I’m going to the 3rd poorest country in the world). It's easy to wonder about (dis)comfort and the psychological impacts (one me) of witnessing poverty.

I'm beginning to extract myself from that thinking.

I watched a film a few years ago in my Feminist Rhetorical Theory class (taught by the amazing Karen Foss) that has always stayed with me.

(See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trinh_T._Minh-ha for more info on the film maker, Trihn T. Minh-ha, and her films)

It had footage of African women in a village doing work. The narrator said over and over again, "It took three decades for these women to become uncivilized." Meaning, we (the West) have defined civilization. They (the African women) have not changed. They are not "uncivilized" at all. It was our "three decades" that redefined their lives.

Who am I to feel pity? Who am I to judge one way as better than another?

Every culture and way of life has something to teach.

I'm beginning to think about all of the brilliant and unknown things I will learn. Things I cannot even imagine, things that I will never be able to live without once I have them.

I also know that poverty and inequality are real and cannot be thought away or intellectualized into cute pockets of my brain where it's okay that 20% of the babies in Niger don't live to be the age of five.

I supposed this is what I signed up for: the amazing opportunity to face these questions, and many more, with all the love, compassion and wisdom I can possibly muster.

That is, if I can find the time between weighing babies and digging wells.

And the winner is.............Niger.

2009-08-20T12:35:00.000-07:00

Departing October 17th. Wish me luck. I'll write more soon.............

INVITEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2009-08-18T10:50:00.000-07:00

I am invited to the Peace Corps and now must wait 1-3 days to find out where. The suspense is going to kill me but I am super dooper excited! Yeah, it's finally happening. I had just about convinced myself I would never get to go!

My online toolkit says: "Congratulations! You have been invited to become a Peace Corps Volunteer."

Still Waiting....No Clue When Or Where I Go (Or If)

2009-08-13T09:23:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm still waiting to hear about the Peace Corps. No news. Just another boring blog entry about how I am excited to go and how I hope I am going since I have planned my whole life around it!

I've had a nice summer and will be back in Utah now working part time and waiting to go into the Peace Corps.

I applied last November and am hoping to leave soon!

Same old thing...

2009-07-10T14:14:00.001-07:00

So, I'm still waiting to hear from the Peace Corps. I have been sending a little email to my Placement Officer once every two weeks checking in. She always responds politely saying she has "no new news" at this point. I think if I was not a candidate, she would have just said so awhile back.

It is a strange thing waiting, especially because it is possible that I am not invited. However, as I have said before, I have no choice but to plan for it if I want to go.

The closer it gets (hopefully) the more excited I am and the less nervous. I am glad that I applied!

I can't wait to learn where I am going so that I can research the region and begin preparing.

Okay, okay, so this is just one more blog about how I hate waiting. Sorry.

Preparing to leave for the Peace Corps (when and where, I do not know)

2009-05-20T08:19:00.000-07:00

Forgive me for blogging so much when nothing interesting has even happened yet....it's fun....!

1. I am getting rid of most of my clothes. Donate to domestic violence shelter.

2. I am getting rid of most of my furniture (which isn't saying a lot).

3. I am getting rid of most of my books and will prepare a box of books for my mom to send me books from while I am gone. Good idea, huh?

4. I am packing up my belongings to store in the basement of my brother and sister-in-laws house (thanks again Jason and Jen!). Items I am storing are basic clothes, books, papers and household items (blankets, dishes).

5. I am making final payments on my credit cards and other debts.

6. Share art supplies and instruments with niece and nephews.

8. Give plants away.

9. Find person to watch Ms. Daisy Mae (cat). Grandma? Mom? She (Daisy) is going to be so mad at me.

While I wait to go I am hoping to:

Practice language skills (French?)

Take the GRE (just in case, better now than later) which I have taken before but basically flunked it!

Spend time with my friends and family and especially the niece and nephews.

Continue to shift the fear to excitement ratio toward excitement.

Depending on my departure date, get temporary employment.

Volunteer at AIDS organization--maybe meals on wheels

Begin packing up for an actual departure.

Sell my car (ideally, five seconds before I leave). And if I never get to go, I suppose I'll be ready for something....

Confirmation....everything is going to work out.

2009-05-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

Forgive me for my mini-updates but they make me feel better! I did hear from my Placement Officer yesterday and she said it was okay that I requested to leave September onwards. So, I think I will be waiting for awhile now to have an invitation (if I get one).

I'm curious about what countries are departing in September, October, November, December, January.....anyone have invitations for those later months? Have then even started inviting?

I've also started to really begin thinking about some of the things I could do as a volunteer. This application process has made my thinking small and obsessive (when will I hear/what is going on/toolkit/)--I'm finally getting out of that and thinking about how truly awesome it would be to have two years to just try to help out another community. How cool is that?

Pointless Addition

2009-05-19T08:38:00.000-07:00

I have emailed my Placement Officer (again) to say that I can't leave until September. I haven't heard back yet and feel like I am bugging this person--I hope not since she is the one who gets to choose my fate! Hopefully everything will work out and hopefully I am a competitive applicant. So this is my pointless post about how I have no idea if, when or where I am going. I hope to hear something soon!

Mix Up

2009-05-14T12:43:00.000-07:00

As it turns out I was officially nominated for a program that leaves in July, which means that they want me to be able to go in July. Basically it's a mix up, because I was told that I was nominated for a program that leaves in September. I know I just said I won't leave until September but now I realize it was a bigger mix up than that--and that it may jeopardize my ability to go if I put it back too much. Hopefully I won't be asked to go until at least August, preferably September or October...the saga continues! I'll post more as soon as I know more.