Wow last week was a busy week! I'm afraid that my slow mornings with my book and coffee may nearing their end. While this is good as it means I've found work to do, I am going to miss that leisure time in the morning.
So even after Tabaski was 'officially' over (last Sunday the 6th) the rice and spaghetti encored as my mom continued to bring me plates and plates for each meal. Never been so sick of rice in my life. I even began packing it in tupper wares and carrying it around with me for snacks. Nima, Aposto's girlfried even joked and asked how my rice was in our morning greeting (the morning salutations usually included asking how your's house, patience, kids, health, etc. are in local language). I love Nima and Aposto because they make a bit of a joke about this with me each morning so I was impressed when she slipped rice in there!
Tuesday brought on a different feeling. I decided to take the day off from working out as I had been going pretty hard for 7 days and while I wanted to bike that morning, I could tell my legs weren't recovered and I knew I needed to rest. This did not set me up for a good day as I felt sluggish and out of it. Being here for as long as I have, you begin to get used to the poverty all around you; you don't notice the shacks or the filthy-half-naked children. It all just becomes natural- I remember Lorena reacting to my reactions when I first arrived and was still a little in awe/baffled by all of it. She would shrug her shoulders and say 'ya, that's what they do.' I can feel myself becoming that way. However, Tuesday when I was biking home from Aposto's my 'natural lenses' were stripped off and I had this overwhelming feeling at seeing again all of the issues, problems, areas of improvement all around me. Lately I've been passionate about hand washing so I had a crazy idea that I should visit all 7,000 people of LT in my 2 years teaching them how and the importance of this simple but vital concept. Ya, not overwhelming at all. Then, stopping to visit my co-worker there were some kids eating rice with this big glob of orangish mush. Oh! I thought to myself- could it be sweet potatoes? No no, my co-worker said, that's the grease from the cow fat left over from Tabaski. Ugh. So I must spread the nutrition word; I must teach the importance of a balanced diet! Walking a little further, I passed the Moringa trees (miracle trees- google it) and got up the guts to ask the mama if she actually uses the tree, if it's just for her, etc. Of course she doesn't speak French- and neither do I for that matter- but luckily a middle school aged boy was around and he assisted as much as he could. I walked off feeling more confused and adding pressure to myself of spreading the Moringa message.
Arriving home, my host brothers are doing their homework while my host sister is working (carrying water, cleaning, preparing dinner, etc.). This is a very common thing here -something I've watched over and over but at that point I thought to myself- Oh! I must educate them on the importance of girls going to school, sharing chores so she has an equal chance. Maybe I should help her with her homework each night. And then I just cracked. I got up one step of my porch and just started sobbing. I can't do all of this. I can't make sure this entire town washes their hands before they eat, prepare more nutritious meals and treat girls equal to boys (just to mention a few). There is no way; there are too many issues and not enough of me or time. I'm not going to save these people and I'm not going to save LT. Yes, we tell ourselves this all the time, but it really hit me that night. As I was talking and crying to Michael later, he made a very good point. I was crying, for the first time, because I was overwhelmed with the work and the need here. Whereas before when I would get upset in the first three months is was because I didn't know what to do, how to start, if I was even needed here. Huh-- what a change. I took a deep breath and realized that I've made it though one mindset change, I'll surely survive another as I continue to figure this whole adventure out. To add to all of that, my water filter fell off the ledge on my porch and one of the purifying candles inside broke rendering my filter useless. While boiling water and thinking far enough ahead so its cooled off by the time you want to drink it is not fun, I have been enjoying buying COLD Pure Waters (the purified water sachets you can buy everywhere) from the two stores with refrigerators here in LT.
Wednesday was interesting. I had a sunrise run as Aposto wanted to hit the road early. We spent the morning delivering notebooks and school supplies to tiny schools and villages on a dirt road going east of of LT. As we bumped along on the motorcycle, passing people walking into bush (I'm sure to their homes, but it was so desolate it was hard to tell) and I thought to myself, 'wow, it doesn't get much more Africa than this.' Our first stop was at these two lean-to type shacks made of dried palm other tree leaves where two teachers (volunteers) were leading two classes of about 15 students each. We gave each teacher a notebook and they were so grateful you'd have thought we were passing out salaries. Eye-opening moment. We continued in this fashion, going deeper into the bush, passing out notebooks for each of the teachers at each stop. After about 5 stops like this we finally arrived at the school where we had supplies for kids who had lost a parent. I was happy the NGO was able to provide a bit for these kids (about 20), but it just killed me to watch as the rest of the kids watched with big eyes. These were definitely some of the poorest people I've seen so far. Kids in rags, some with half a tattered khaki uniform on, sandals with more bare feet on the bottom than material. Sadly, I was ready to get out of there. If the thought of those kids having to walk that far or find a ride to continue on to middle school wasn't disturbing enough, seeing them in their reality killed me.
Thursday afternoon and evening made up for it as my host mom summoned me over as she was dying her feet with a local plant she had added water to to create a paste. Muslim women dye the outer edge of their feet orange and then black to symbolize a holiday or celebration. I described it to Michael that it's sort of like when people wear Christmas looking things in December...sort of. As I sat there and she patted the paste on I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and enjoyed the warm breeze. It was so peaceful. And the closest thing I've had to a pedicure or a massage in a long time! It also forced me to stay put and rest on my porch while it dried, which as much as I enjoy this is sometimes still difficult when I know I've got other things to do. It had dried enough by 5 so that I could go over to my French tutor's house as his kids had insisted on me coming over so we could make dinner together. This family runs like a well oiled machine. Three girls and three boys and everyone has a job. The best part is they all know their job and they do it without talking much and definitely without complaining (not how I remember Maddie and I's chore routine going growing up). I just sat there (tried to help a little- they let me slice the tops off of tomatoes) and took it all in. Reminded me of a team of ants: quiet, determined and hard-working. From peeling, slicing and boiling a giant yam they had grown in their field, mashing the ingredients for the sauce into a paste (tomatoes, peanuts, onions, peppers) using one flat stone and one round (I told them we have machines for that too), and then mashing the yams to create fufu, we finally ate 3 hours later.
I had two requirements for the meal. First, everyone must wash their hands with soap before we ate. Two, everyone will eat together - as a family. Usually the man is served first and eats by himself or with older boys, and the kids just sprawl wherever- door frames, on a random stool-wherever they can find a seat. I insisted that we would eat as a family and while they looked at me funny and rolled their eyes, they managed to put two small tables together and crowd around. I was so proud and they just laughed. Then I shared my Grandma's oatmeal raisin cookies with them which were a hit and I think may have made up for the regulations I made them follow at dinner.
Friday morning my friend Hortance had become pretty sick and I spotted her on the road headed to the private clinic to begin treatment for malaria. My first time witnessing the IV process here. Not too bad. Hortance needed to eat first so we went to fetch some pate- the local cuisine made of crushed corn- around the corner. I was disappointed that even at a clinic the food (I'll never complain about hospital food ever again!) wasn't more nutritious that what everyone eats. Same empty pate and fish sauce. UGH. I suggested they could use enriched cornmeal (add crushed peanuts of Morenga powder) and they smiled politely. Hortance got hooked up and I proceed onto the hospital for the weekly baby weighing.
I had tried to mentally prepare more for the malnourished and overwhelming amount of babies and time the process takes. Of course when I get there only about a third of the women from last week had showed up. I learned that it was because a lot of the moms only come once a month and/or when their baby is up for a vaccine. Of course the tiny ones I had my eye out for were not there. I did however encounter my first pregnant mom (only 23) who was HIV positive. I sat in awe as the nurse pleaded with her to take the medicine she was giving her so that it wouldn't be passed on to the baby. I even stayed in the room to hold her wailing toddler while the nurse examined her. Wow- only in Africa. The nurse asked if I had anything to tell her and I just tried to reemphasize what she had said: take the meds, get your other child tested, and make sure you sleep under your mosquito net.
That afternoon was the wedding I'd been anticipating. On my way home there must have been 5 people stop to ask me if I was going (they LOVE my dyed feet) and to make sure I wear my 'costume'- the dress in the matching fabric with everyone else. This was funny to me-- they had to be sure I was dressed appropriately! I waited for my mom and we didn't leave to walk down the path to the wedding at the woman's home until an hour after it was suppose to start. Already confused, but I went with it. The women (probably close to 75) went nuts seeing me dressed up with a traditional African style hat tied on my head, a veil my mom had given me to over that, and the black eyebrows she had painted on. I was quite a site. Everyone sat on mats on the ground in a semi-circle, the women of course separated from the men. Three guys banged drums and everyone threw candy at them. The Gado, my co-worker came out with her female family crowded around her and we threw even more candy. Then we gave candy to her mom and more loud dancing, singing and things I'm sure I didn't catch continued on. Then it was time to move and everyone headed to her new husbands house down the road. It was literally like a wedding parade. Easily 150 people, the moto drivers of LT directed what little traffic that could fit past us. They presented Gado to her husband and some important looking men, took her suitcase in her house and that was pretty much it. The majority of the people left but a few mamas held onto me and drug me behind the house where there was a small dance party. I did my best to dance with the drums and then people threw candy at me! Luckily it ended quickly but everywhere I go now people talk about me dancing. Word travels fast-even in little villages in Africa. All that hype and anticipation for about an hour of activity. Well, I guess that's kind of what it's like in the States? I asked Aposto and the non-Muslims would have the same ceremony but also a party afterwards.
Saturday morning, a PCVL visited to spend the day in LT and observe my life here. Ben, is a health volunteer and also the national organizer for the summer camp for kids affected by HIV/AIDS (Camp Espoir). His French is awesome and so as I showed him around he could talk to people and explain more about why I'm here and the work I hope to do. This was especially helpful at the clinic and hospital where I had had struggles with the director. So thankful for Ben's time here. Helping me establish more credibility and understanding. We visited Aposto and the market for some traditional Saturday afternoon tchouk.
Gave me ideas for working with kids and groups and good ways to present material. After a hot and detour filled car ride back where I got to show off a bit of my local language, I made it back to LT and got organized for another busy week!
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