Not What I Expected

When I started Peace Corps, I was told repeatedly to leave all expectations behind. And in small ways, I think I did a good job of that  for the things that I encountered during Pre-Service training. Bucket showers? Huge cockroaches and spiders? Terrible food? Sexism? I knew it was coming but I didn’t know how, and I adapted. But the unexpected parts of my Peace Corps service haven’t been small things. They’ve been pretty big.

I didn’t expect that I’d be tackled by a crazy man while inside a walled, razor-wired compound, or that I’d still be reeling from the effects of that trauma more than a year later. I didn’t expect to spend 6 weeks in America miserably sick to my stomach. I didn’t expect to have to become ambidextrous because of a repeated stress injury that took me out of site for nearly 3 weeks. And I really, truly, didn’t expect to see parts of a child strewn across the road I live on after a tragic truck-pedestrian accident in late May.

I made myself a promise when I joined Peace Corps that if I felt like something had happened to me that would give me permanent damage, I would come home. Otherwise, I told myself, I would persevere. Honestly, I think I’ve broken that promise to myself at this point, and I’m not sure it’s a bad thing. When I come home, I’ll have to see doctors about the wrist problems that have plagued me for two years without explanation, and I’ll have to deal with the anxiety and perhaps even PTSD of my attack. I’d like to think that both of these aren’t truly permanent, but aren’t those the sort of things that I had given my permission to come home for? Sometimes, especially recently, I ask myself: what is the straw that could break this camels back?

 Today, I thought it was the death of this child. I don’t even know him, but he was walking home from school, minding his own business on the shoulder of the road (our sidewalk) when a truck came along and I quote “totally destroyed his head.” This is my absolute greatest fear, and I have on occasion been laughed at for jumping across the drainage ditch as a truck barrels past. I live in a country with no regulation. Do their brakes work? Could their steering column snap? It all seems possible, especially to someone who as experienced the “impossible” twice in my life. Why yes, when I fall sick, I prefer it to be a rare disease with only 200 cases in the preceding century. Why yes, when I’m assaulted, it would be within a guarded, walled compound. It’s become very hard for me to identify what real risks are as opposed to fantastical imaginings that would never happen.

But I’m still here. And I think I’m going to make it to my COS date in August (barring completely unpredictable political issues). I think I’ve stayed because for every bit I’ve been “damaged” from this experience, I have also grown. For every moment that it feels like misery is out to get me, I remind myself that my friends and neighbors live in this crazy, uncertain place, for their whole lives. While they are upset and angry about the death of a child, they are not distraught in the same way I am. I have learned that sensitivity is a privilege. That I have so rarely experienced loss is an underestimated privilege, one which I have done nothing to deserve.

Never before in my life have I seen the stark difference between youth and adulthood as I do here. And frankly, I think I fall too often in the youth category. I have felt naïve and protected at times. I have wanted to joke around and befriend my peers—but then I would lose their respect as my students. I am starting to recognize that I must soon take on my burdens of duty and responsibility, although in Peace Corps, with no dependents, it is easy to feel free and young, at least sometimes. But other times, when I am dealing with the mayor or teaching adults older than myself how to be entrepreneurs, I am reminded that I am no longer a child. When I go back to America, it will be time to be a “real person”. And I hope that that “real person” will be stronger, and more determined, and more mature, because of the unexpected events that have unfurled during my Peace Corps service.

Slac (take 2)

I know I’ve posted before about my best guy friend at site, but it bears talking about him more. He has been an invaluable friend and asset at site. We met on my first day at site, because he lives in the same compound I do. Somehow, I just knew he was someone I could trust. His actual name would give him the initials SLC, but he took a little bit of freedom with the acronym when he created his own nickname. He is known around town as Slac or DJ Slac, because he works at one of the night clubs in our town. He is as well known as I am, which is pretty impressive considering that I stand out a lot more than he does. I am fairly certain he never sleeps.

He is also a university student, getting his undergrad and masters in a 5 year program in the Administration of Cultural Resources (or something like that). He just got his undergrad last week, and he got a remarkable mention! No surprise there, he’s incredibly intelligent and hardworking. Sadly, the students who didn’t receive “mention remarquable” are throwing a fit and saying everyone should get one. This is just one facet of a cultural epidemic that doesn’t appropriately reward hard-workers or effectively punish lazy hangers-on.

He also owns multiple fields, works on a group-owned plot of land, and recently completed construction of his own house. He told me that he has been saving and investing his money since high school. Which is pretty clear, considering that he’s maybe 6 years out of high school. He went to a Peace Corps sponsored food security conference and learned about permaculture and other gardening techniques, and he is super excited to implement the things he learned on his plots of land.

Slac has helped me in pretty much everything I’ve ever attempted in Tanene, from getting clothes made, to running and entrepreneurship program, to translating malaria materials into Susu. After a few unfortunate mishaps, I have learned that it is always better to ask Slac first, before attempting anything new. He just knows a ton—about Tanene, about Susu cultural values, about where to buy things and how much they should cost, and the world in general. It is fantastic to have a conversation partner about just about anything. He is just as curious about things as I am, and we have had great conversations, usually in our courtyard in the fading evening light before prayer about politics and equality and education and current events.

Slac is also a devout Muslim. He says his prayers five times a day, every day. I have never seen him miss prayer, even when he has to leave in the last ten minutes of the first half of a Barca game. He doesn’t drink, even though he works at a nightclub and they sell alcohol. He is always happy to answer my questions about Islam. It is clear to me that he doesn’t just repeat the Arabic sounds (as some people do here) and he has educated himself on what Islam means and how it applies to his life. When his mother died last year, I believe his religion was a comfort to him. When I think of a young Muslim man, I will forever picture Slac—in jeans and a tee, wearing a baseball hat and laughing about some inane observation I’ve made. I could not have found a more true friend.

The Top Ten Things I want to Eat in America

1. Lasagna
2. Sushi
3. A spinach salad with walnuts and cranberries and feta cheese
4. Sausage pizza from Marion's
5. Graeters' cookie dough chip
6. Mom's spaghetti and meatballs
7. Chipotle burrito
8. Pretzels and beer (This is one food, I am Andy Tellers' daughter)
9. Unsweetened iced tea (also counts as a food, also related to my parentage)
10. Cheese on everything

On Homesickness

I think I’m a bit of an expert on homesickness at this point. After all, Oakwood was home for 18 years, and since then, I’m not sure I’ve ever really been home since. Oh, there were visits and summers, but for the last six years, anywhere I’ve been has been temporary, whether it was Maryland, Texas, or Atlanta. When my parents moved to Atlanta while I was in study abroad, it made visits back to Ohio that much less like coming home.

I have to say, I started to feel like UMD was home. I was in my element in college, and I had a great group of friends to rely upon. So most of college, I wasn’t homesick. I was definitely homesick when I got there, though. Why would I pick up and go so far away when I could have just stayed somewhere in Ohio and had at least a few friends to start with? My choice to go to Maryland was just the first of many choices that demonstrate something that is always in my mind:

It would be so easy to live a boring life.

Going to UMD made me find friends I hadn’t known since preschool. Working in Texas made me find new friends, and it also forced me to spend a lot of time just with myself. Going to Toulouse, studying engineering in French, challenged me to become bilingual, to stretch my intellectual capabilities. But by far the biggest leap I’ve taken was joining Peace Corps.

At Maryland, in Texas, in Toulouse, I often felt homesick in the beginning. It was normal, it was growing pains. Then I adapted to my new world, found my stride, and never looked back.

Peace Corps hasn’t been that comfortable. I felt the normal homesickness in the beginning, the craving for mom’s food and conversations with friends. The feel of sleeping in my own bed and waking up to a predictable world. Then, things started to get more familiar and routine during training. And then, of course, it was time to move again. This time, this move, was further away from anything resembling home, that I expected my homesickness to stick around longer than normal.

In some ways it did, and in some ways it didn’t. I think I adapted pretty well to my site. I have my routines and my friends, my market ladies, my gas station treats. I think I was a fairly capable teacher, too, within the context of the Guinean education system. But I have never hit my stride. I have never reached my element. I confess, I am not thriving in Peace Corps.

Oh, I wouldn’t trade this for the world. And I have good times. I’m just saying that I am trying to be the best version of myself in this situation, and I am failing. I hate failing. Anyone who knows me knows that I don’t fail. I fail so rarely or so minimally that sometimes it feels like I must be able to do anything if I just try hard enough. I am trying. I am failing. When people in my town tell me that I should stay another year, I joke that I can’t because my mother would cry (you would, right, mom?). But really, I can’t stay, because I can’t do this for another year. I can do it for 3 more months, and I will, and in that way, I will have “succeeded” in Peace Corps. I find myself struck by terrible homesickness, for the entirety of my service, where I just wish I could be in a familiar, comfortable place. I wish I could be at home. I’m not even sure where home is. It’s the homesickness that tells me I haven’t truly succeeded here. I am walking a mile in what is only approximately a Guinean’s shoes, and I can’t do it.

Enormous amounts of the world’s population lives a life thousands of times less opulent than mine. Women all over the world are hit on by strangers every day of their life. (Don’t worry about me, it only happens weekly and I just learned how to say “Your dick is small” in Susu.) Many of my friends and neighbors live with illness and pain and disfigurement, with no treatment, and yet manage to lead full lives.

It’s pretty damn humbling to fail at something you are doing on purpose, when others with no choice carry their burdens so well.

You could say that my life is trying. Or difficult. Or challenging. Good things, too, like rewarding and surprising and enlightening. You could say I’m having trouble. You could say my life is tough, at the moment.

But you could never, ever, not in a million years, say that my life is boring.

WORLD MALARIA DAY

Today, all over the world, people are talking about Malaria. Want to sound like you're in the know? Be part of the cool crowd? Here's what you need to know:

Malaria is a life-threatening disease caused by parasites that are transmitted to people through the bites of infected mosquitoes.

In 2010, malaria caused an estimated 660 000 deaths (with an uncertainty range of 490 000 to 836 000), mostly among African children.

Malaria is preventable and curable.

Malaria mortality rates have fallen by more than 25% globally since 2000, and by 33% in the WHO African Region.

Malaria is transmitted exclusively through the bites of Anopheles mosquitoes

Fever, headache, chills and vomiting are often the first symptoms of malaria

The best available treatment is artemisinin-based combination therapy (ACT).

Insecticide-treated mosquito nets (ITNs) and Indoor spraying with residual insecticides are two forms of vector control to reduce transmission

There are currently no licensed vaccines against malaria or any other human parasite.

Source: WHO

Now that you've got the down-low...go and spread your knowledge! Be sure to tell me about any World Malaria Day activities you do! For my part, I'll be giving Malaria Lessons in both my classes, and we'll be doing bednet relays during recess!

What did you do today to vanquish Malaria?

Well, I (inshallah, as all plans are) have traveled to a friend's site, where Peace Corps Volunteers will be going head to head with village soccer players in a match of epic proportions. Although, the soccer field will be of very small proportions. We'll be playing on a miniature field at their Centre Culturel, all the better to bring out the people for the novelty of seeing lots and lots of fotes failing miserably at soccer. Or not. We're scrappy. We could win.

The soccer match is just the big draw. The real guts of the day are the sensibilisations that we've given in the school of 1800 students, the targeted talks given to market ladies, and the theater piece by a local group during half-time. For even greater coverage, we've told the local radio of our efforts. And that's not even the biggest event we have planned! Muahahaha we shall defeat malaria! (and the other regions in this contest)

I can't wait! It will be great to do sensibilisations as a team, and I'm sure our Susu sensibilisations in the market will be quite entertaining.

Stay tuned for some pictures! (Dependent on internet access)

Malaria Month!

This April, all over Guinea, nay, all over Africa, PCVs are working to Stomp Out Malaria. What does that mean? It means we're holding awareness raising bike rides, soccer games with malaria education half-time shows, malaria classroom lessons, home visits to teach bednet cleaning and use, and many many more activities. Our brilliant Malaria Coordinator, Sean, has made malaria month into a contest between regions in Guinea, which has really lit a fire under our bottoms to get out the word. It should have been in conjunction with a nation-wide bednet distribution campaign, but unfortunately for my region, the funds didn't come through in time, so we'll have to wait til June to get bednets in our communities. Nonetheless, Basse Cote really came together to plan some activities that we really hope can bring change to our communities.

Why does it matter? You might ask this question because you don't know how big of a problem malaria is. Or you might ask this question because you know just how widespread malaria is, and you can't believe a month-long campaign could make much of a dent.

For the first crowd: Malaria is a huuuuuge problem in Guinea, and in Africa as a whole. The statistics in Guinea are very poorly tracked and defined, but the picture that emerges is pretty clear. A large portion of our Guinean friends and colleagues have had malaria or le palu as it's called here, many many times. It's like the flu in America. Teachers in the US may find partially empty classrooms and the reason is "the flu". Teachers like me find half empty classrooms here, and the reason is le palu (even though it probably wasn't diagnosed, and it most likely isn't being treated as it should be). In Africa as a whole, the effect on high-risk populations (pregnant women, children, and people living with HIV/AIDS) is stunning. In pregnant women, "[m]alaria in pregnancy increases the risk of maternal anaemia, stillbirth, spontaneous abortion, low birth weight and neonatal death", according to WHO. Every 30 seconds, a child dies of malaria. Hold up, wait a second---malaria is a treatable, preventable disease and two children die PER MINUTE because of it.

That's a big problem in my world.

For the second crowd: Yes, 103 volunteers in a country the size of Oregon can't change culturally-embedded values and beliefs in the course of a month. But we must start somewhere, and how better to motivate a group of mostly young Americans--competition! So we've been trained up and sent back to our communities, full of ideas and activities that we hope will empower our friends and family here to modify their behavior in a way that stops the malaria transmission cycle and cuts down on the needless death, illness, and economic loss that comes with malaria. Do we think that every person we speak to will heed our call and immediately change their behavior, avoiding malaria for the rest of their lives? No. But change is slow, and that's OK. Our hope is with this intense period of activity in the "Fight Against Malaria" (direct translate from French), we can have a jumping off point for the impact of Peace Corps Volunteers in Guinea.

What can I do? Great question! Malaria is a global problem. All of you can help in the fight against malaria by donating to organizations working on the ground, by educating yourself and others about the realities of malaria, and by organizing World Malaria Day events on April 25.

Donations: It's very hard to get donations specifically to Guinea, but 2 great organizations for all of Africa are:
Against Malaria
Malaria No More

Education:
Follow my blog! (and tell others to!)
Follow @StompM_Guinea and @StompOutMalaria on Twitter (please let me know if you do!)
Like "Stomp Out Malaria" on Facebook (Again, let me know please!)
Read all the BAMM 2013 (Blog About Malaria Month) blogs here

Organize:
Search the web to find World Malaria Day events near you! Do you have a community group or classroom that might not know about World Malaria Day? Take 15-30 minutes to tell them more about this global issue and join in the fight! If you do, let me know, and I'll feature your activities here on my blog, and you'll get a shout-out by Stomp Out Malaria Guinea!

Malaria is a treatable, preventable disease that kills millions every year. Do your part to stop the needless loss that malaria causes.