Someone recently suggested to me that I should include more cross-cultural comparisons of the US and Senegal.
I’m unsure how to do that more than I have been, but I thought I would take a list of questions that people have asked and address them in blog entries. Remember that my blog is an open forum for any questions you all might have. If any of you do have questions do post them so that others can benefit.
Do you ever feel that the gender situation is so remarkably unjust that it has transcended into situations beyond reach?
The simple answer is yes; I do, all the time. Sometimes the lack of women’s empowerment is so disheartening and depressing that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make any kind of headway. But to be a successful PCV you really have to believe that you are planting the seed and that you might not necessarily see the fruits of your labor. Someday some little girl could be inspired to go on and get through school and be a teacher, or have a little bit of knowledge that she learned from me that will help keep her children healthier. We just can’t know. But to stay sane, I have to believe that somehow, someday my work will impact at least one person. It’s just so difficult to measure.
One of the things I desperately want to work on is to have a boy’s group. In my own studies and experiences I’ve been consistently disappointed with how frequently men are left out of the development/gender/reproductive health conversation and I want to find a way to work with teenage boys.
(Also, see blog entry called “Atheist Man Hater” from July for a more thorough description of some of the more negative experiences I’ve had.)
Have you been able to do any doula work?
I have not yet been able to attend any births, but my counterpart is currently very pregnant and is due soon. I spoke with her about my volunteer doula experience and offered to be there for the birth and she emphatically agreed. I’m definitely excited about it, but also kind of nervous too. I mean the other births I attended were in a modern birthing center with teams of surgeons on call just next door. Every woman had her own room, bathroom, shower, rocking chair, birthing balls and bars, mirrors, and ample room for family members.
This time around it’s going to be a completely different experience. If the mid-wives even decide to let me in the room with her for the birth then it will be done in a tiny, dirty room with 6 “beds”, no running water, sketchy electricity, no medicine, and obviously no emergency supplies or staff. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that I won’t have to witness anything traumatic and that the birth will go smoothly. I am slightly worried because she is older and her last birth was 9 years ago. But I am still honored and looking forward to being there to support her and hopefully make her more comfortable.
What is the mother and infant mortality rate in Senegal?
The Infant Mortality Rate (IMR) for Senegal is 78 per 1,000 live births. Though progress has been made because it’s down from 164 in 1970 By comparison the USA’s IMR is 7 per 1,000 livebirths.
The Maternal Mortality Rate (MMR) for Senegal is 690 per 100,000 live births. Whereas in the USA its 17 and in Iceland it’s actually 0.
(For more statistics see the Human Development Index from the UN.
http://hdr.undp.org/hdr2006/statistics/ )
How much teaching do you get to do?
Now that I’m back at site, and summer vacation is finally coming to an end, I’m preparing to do a lot of teaching. There are actually 5 schools in my town. One pre-school, two primary schools, a middle school, and then one private school. I have made friends with many of the teachers and I’m hoping to come in and teach regular health lessons to the kids. Health lessons are written into the national curriculum, but they are certainly not comprehensive and usually the way the kids are forced to learn is by repetition and reading. So my goal is to spend the majority of Ramadan preparing lesson plans on all kinds of health topics: hygiene, malaria, first aid, dental hygiene, nutrition, STIs, family planning, etc.
Ideally I’d like to be teaching at least one class a week but even more would be great. I’m particularly excited about working with kids not just because I adore them so much (as you all know…I didn’t get voted “PCV Most Likely To Adopt A Senegalese Child” for nothing!) but also because then I can work in French and I won’t be intimidated to get started. I might even be able to do some of the lessons at the middle school level in English with the English classes.
How much do the mothers understand?
The issue that most volunteers face is not so much the lack of education and knowledge (for those who have been to school) but behavior change. My family for example knows full well that they need to wash their hands with soap before they eat, and that they should always sleep under mosquito nets…but do they? Nope. They rinse their hands with water, and only sleep under nets after I begged them too. They know about malaria, and how it is transmitted, but it’s getting them to that next step…to actually change their behavior that is the biggest challenge.
But I don’t think that that is much different than anyone else I know. How many people do we all know that are lifetime smokers? They know it’s horrible for them but they continue to do it anyway? It’s really no different. And what about obesity? Everyone knows that it increases your risk for heart disease, diabetes, cancer, etc. And yet people still don’t exercise and eat horribly.
So yes it’s frustrating and there are some myths that are so counterproductive and preposterous that sometimes even I am baffled by them. But all I can do is try to find creative ways to talk about them.
Plant the seed and hope for the best.
Is the care of their infants built on folklore?
I guess I can use some examples of typical myths that mothers and grandmothers have regarding their children.
That if a child has diarrhea the last thing you want to give them is water.
That colostrum (the first milk) is not good for the baby so you should give them water instead.
If you have a cut a way to stop the bleeding is to put it in the sand.
That babies should be fed, water, butter, and other random food scraps during the first 6 months of life because breast milk is not enough.
The list goes on…
If so, how do you even begin to break those barriers?
Breaking those barriers? I wish I knew. My strategy is to ask lots of questions, be incredibly patient, and have many conversations. Oh, and repetition. I have to constantly ask breastfeeding moms about their children and what they feed them, but also to observe their behavior because they often lie about what they are doing. Luckily because I am an outsider and a Westerner and a health volunteer I can get away with bringing up weird subjects like breastfeeding and family planning. But there are days when it seems like I’ll never be able to change anyone’s mind.
I am really only touching the surface of addressing these questions, but I hope that it has been informative and given you all a glimpse into some cross-cultural comparisons.
Please keep the questions coming. Sometimes I have a hard time knowing what to talk about and what people want to hear about.
Thanks for reading and caring enough to ask!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
soccer riot
Yesterday, for the first time in this country I felt unsafe.
Nothing horrible happened, but the situation definitely had the potential to get out of control.
Driving back from the regional house after our regional health IST meeting, 6 other volunteers and I were driving in a 7-place (station wagon that holds 7 but should really be for about 5). We were an hour from our destination when we came upon a huge crowd of young boisterous men. Our driver slowed down and they surrounded our car. They were yelling and telling us to turn around. Then they started yelling at us and banging on our windows and pulling at the doors. The confusion of where and how to turn around plus the huge cloud of billowing black smoke (we still don’t know what they were burning) made our driver incredibly flustered and nervous. As he was deciding how to back out, people starting throwing things at the car.
Nothing broke and no one was hurt, but it shook us up a bit.
Our driver turned off the road and we took a minor detour through the sand and grass to double-back and find a way around the village. Luckily, a local kid said he knew how to get around the mess. He jumped in the car and directed us for about 1K across sand dunes and grass, dodging bushes, divots, goats, cows, and huts. It was quite the adventure. The seven of us were bouncing along and a little wary of running into another crowd of angry youths, but we were mostly just excited about the story factor.
We found out that the reason for the riot was a cancelled soccer match! Two nearby villages were supposed to play a final game for the regional title but the match was called off.
I just don’t get it.
I guess people just have too much time on their hands? Too much time, and too much pent up frustration/testosterone.
But this phenomenon is not rare. Especially when it comes to soccer. Remember when the Brazilian goalkeeper was killed for failing to block a goal? Ridiculous.
Even when I was in Costa Rica and two rival teams, Saprisa and La Liga were playing a normal match, the fans pelted the losing team with food, bottles, and whatever they could get their hands on.
What is it about the sport that makes people so crazy?
I mean I love soccer as much as the next guy (okay, maybe not quite as much), but to inflict pain on another person, and to riot, and destroy property just because of a cancelled match seems totally over the top to me.
In any case, we took all the right steps and called our PC security officer who notified the gendarmes in the area. Two big cars full of them actually whizzed passed us on their way to break up the crowd. We assume they took care of it. But there is no real way to find out what happened.
At least now I know that the next time we come upon a roadblock of people and smoke it would be wise to stop a little sooner, and find an alternate route around BEFORE we drive straight into the mess huh?
No harm done. Lesson learned.
At least it makes a decent cocktail party story right?
Nothing horrible happened, but the situation definitely had the potential to get out of control.
Driving back from the regional house after our regional health IST meeting, 6 other volunteers and I were driving in a 7-place (station wagon that holds 7 but should really be for about 5). We were an hour from our destination when we came upon a huge crowd of young boisterous men. Our driver slowed down and they surrounded our car. They were yelling and telling us to turn around. Then they started yelling at us and banging on our windows and pulling at the doors. The confusion of where and how to turn around plus the huge cloud of billowing black smoke (we still don’t know what they were burning) made our driver incredibly flustered and nervous. As he was deciding how to back out, people starting throwing things at the car.
Nothing broke and no one was hurt, but it shook us up a bit.
Our driver turned off the road and we took a minor detour through the sand and grass to double-back and find a way around the village. Luckily, a local kid said he knew how to get around the mess. He jumped in the car and directed us for about 1K across sand dunes and grass, dodging bushes, divots, goats, cows, and huts. It was quite the adventure. The seven of us were bouncing along and a little wary of running into another crowd of angry youths, but we were mostly just excited about the story factor.
We found out that the reason for the riot was a cancelled soccer match! Two nearby villages were supposed to play a final game for the regional title but the match was called off.
I just don’t get it.
I guess people just have too much time on their hands? Too much time, and too much pent up frustration/testosterone.
But this phenomenon is not rare. Especially when it comes to soccer. Remember when the Brazilian goalkeeper was killed for failing to block a goal? Ridiculous.
Even when I was in Costa Rica and two rival teams, Saprisa and La Liga were playing a normal match, the fans pelted the losing team with food, bottles, and whatever they could get their hands on.
What is it about the sport that makes people so crazy?
I mean I love soccer as much as the next guy (okay, maybe not quite as much), but to inflict pain on another person, and to riot, and destroy property just because of a cancelled match seems totally over the top to me.
In any case, we took all the right steps and called our PC security officer who notified the gendarmes in the area. Two big cars full of them actually whizzed passed us on their way to break up the crowd. We assume they took care of it. But there is no real way to find out what happened.
At least now I know that the next time we come upon a roadblock of people and smoke it would be wise to stop a little sooner, and find an alternate route around BEFORE we drive straight into the mess huh?
No harm done. Lesson learned.
At least it makes a decent cocktail party story right?
Saturday, September 8, 2007
The evolutionarily superior mosquito
I have come to the conclusion that the mosquito is an evolutionarily superior being.
Superior to what? I’m not sure. But recently they have succeeded in making my life absolutely miserable.
“How are they superior?” you might ask. All they do is fly around, bite other creatures, suck their blood, and die. How sophisticated can they possibly be? All you need is a little deet, some screened in windows and doors and your interactions with them are almost non-existent.
While that might be the typical experience with them at home, that is certainly not my experience here in Senegal.
Have you ever really stopped to think about how powerful they are? I mean mosquitoes transmit the biggest killer of children in the world! They force us to develop new medicines, chemicals, and techniques to eradicate them and the diseases they bring. Sewage systems, DDT, screen doors, bug repellent, citronella candles, bug zappers, anti-itch creams, standing water removal, malaria prophylaxis, yellow fever vaccines… the list goes on.
I’m probably starting to sound a little crazy to most of you at home so let me explain why mosquitoes have recently become a top priority in my life.
Up north they are not anywhere near as bad as they are in other places, like down south, or even in Thies. But maybe that’s what makes these Northern mosquitoes more vicious, cunning, and brilliant? I don’t know. I do know however that because I sat outside at the transit house (on my way back from IST), for an hour in shorts with no bug repellent (stupid now I admit), I now have over 100 mosquito bites on my legs alone. 23 individual bites just on my left hand, and the list goes on. I truly look like a leper. I even took a picture of my legs and have posted it for your enjoyment/sympathy.
Maybe I am evolutionarily inferior. I mean, other volunteers did the same thing and only suffered a few very mild bites on their ankles. Why me? Granted I know that mosquitoes “like” me or whatever, and I made the poor decision to risk being outside without protection, but a month ago it would not have been a problem.
I think that I’ve been lured into a false sense of security living in the desert. I left for IST thinking, eh, there really aren’t a lot of mosquitoes up here. But after a month of rains and flooding it is like a totally different country. All of the sand is covered with bright green grass, the trees have leaves, and subsequently, the mosquitoes are out in full force.
Another example. Last night I set up my bed after dark. This is something I try to avoid because the mosquitoes are attracted to my headlamp and find their way into the net as I’m tying it up. After nodding off for a few hours, I awoke to that horrible whining sound they make as they dive-bomb your ears and face looking for an uncovered place to bite. Thinking that there were just a few stragglers and that I could easily get rid of them, I turned on my headlamp and began the dance. I managed to kill 4 or 5, staining the net and my hands with (what I assume was) my blood. Just to make sure I had gotten all of them I took a quick scan around the net to make sure. Nope. No chance. There were at least 6 just hanging out on the other side of the net…on the INSIDE of it mind you. I don’t get it? How did 10 or 12 of them get INTO my net? There are NO holes, the thing is permethrin treated! Shouldn’t it kill them off? Or repel them at least?
I’ve watched them around nets before. They will land on them and hop from spot to spot looking for an opening. And when you have to slip out to use the “facilities” you better watch out. That’s when then dive right in. And of course when you are actually sleeping you have to make sure that no part of your body is touching the net because that’s when they bite you right through the damn thing.
And they hide out in the places where you’re forced to be still and wait for their bites…aka. the “loo.” Middle of the night, usually with a lamp (which of course attracts them) maybe some standing water (so they’ve been breeding), and obviously, the 20 or so seconds of idle time as you do your business. That is when they attack. Needless to say most volunteers have complained about bites on their bums at one point or another. Not fun.
The thing about them in Senegal is that whereas at home you can usually tell when a mosquito is biting you, here that is just not the case at all. You can’t even FEEL them when they land on you let alone when they’re sucking your blood. The bites are smaller and more similar to fleabites, but if you START scratching…forget it. You might as well carve off your top layer of skin with your leatherman. You’re probably better off.
And that rule about dawn and dusk. Absolute rubbish. I see them and am bitten at all times of the day. They hide out in the shadows, in the shade, where of course WE are all hiding out as well because it’s still sweltering.
It is miraculous that I do not have malaria. After all, it only takes one bite right? Good thing I’m a PCV and have free access to anti-malarials at all times right?
So there you have it.
Senegalese mosquitoes: 123+
Caitlin: 0
You tell me who is the inferior species.
The jury is still out.
Superior to what? I’m not sure. But recently they have succeeded in making my life absolutely miserable.
“How are they superior?” you might ask. All they do is fly around, bite other creatures, suck their blood, and die. How sophisticated can they possibly be? All you need is a little deet, some screened in windows and doors and your interactions with them are almost non-existent.
While that might be the typical experience with them at home, that is certainly not my experience here in Senegal.
Have you ever really stopped to think about how powerful they are? I mean mosquitoes transmit the biggest killer of children in the world! They force us to develop new medicines, chemicals, and techniques to eradicate them and the diseases they bring. Sewage systems, DDT, screen doors, bug repellent, citronella candles, bug zappers, anti-itch creams, standing water removal, malaria prophylaxis, yellow fever vaccines… the list goes on.
I’m probably starting to sound a little crazy to most of you at home so let me explain why mosquitoes have recently become a top priority in my life.
Up north they are not anywhere near as bad as they are in other places, like down south, or even in Thies. But maybe that’s what makes these Northern mosquitoes more vicious, cunning, and brilliant? I don’t know. I do know however that because I sat outside at the transit house (on my way back from IST), for an hour in shorts with no bug repellent (stupid now I admit), I now have over 100 mosquito bites on my legs alone. 23 individual bites just on my left hand, and the list goes on. I truly look like a leper. I even took a picture of my legs and have posted it for your enjoyment/sympathy.
Maybe I am evolutionarily inferior. I mean, other volunteers did the same thing and only suffered a few very mild bites on their ankles. Why me? Granted I know that mosquitoes “like” me or whatever, and I made the poor decision to risk being outside without protection, but a month ago it would not have been a problem.
I think that I’ve been lured into a false sense of security living in the desert. I left for IST thinking, eh, there really aren’t a lot of mosquitoes up here. But after a month of rains and flooding it is like a totally different country. All of the sand is covered with bright green grass, the trees have leaves, and subsequently, the mosquitoes are out in full force.
Another example. Last night I set up my bed after dark. This is something I try to avoid because the mosquitoes are attracted to my headlamp and find their way into the net as I’m tying it up. After nodding off for a few hours, I awoke to that horrible whining sound they make as they dive-bomb your ears and face looking for an uncovered place to bite. Thinking that there were just a few stragglers and that I could easily get rid of them, I turned on my headlamp and began the dance. I managed to kill 4 or 5, staining the net and my hands with (what I assume was) my blood. Just to make sure I had gotten all of them I took a quick scan around the net to make sure. Nope. No chance. There were at least 6 just hanging out on the other side of the net…on the INSIDE of it mind you. I don’t get it? How did 10 or 12 of them get INTO my net? There are NO holes, the thing is permethrin treated! Shouldn’t it kill them off? Or repel them at least?
I’ve watched them around nets before. They will land on them and hop from spot to spot looking for an opening. And when you have to slip out to use the “facilities” you better watch out. That’s when then dive right in. And of course when you are actually sleeping you have to make sure that no part of your body is touching the net because that’s when they bite you right through the damn thing.
And they hide out in the places where you’re forced to be still and wait for their bites…aka. the “loo.” Middle of the night, usually with a lamp (which of course attracts them) maybe some standing water (so they’ve been breeding), and obviously, the 20 or so seconds of idle time as you do your business. That is when they attack. Needless to say most volunteers have complained about bites on their bums at one point or another. Not fun.
The thing about them in Senegal is that whereas at home you can usually tell when a mosquito is biting you, here that is just not the case at all. You can’t even FEEL them when they land on you let alone when they’re sucking your blood. The bites are smaller and more similar to fleabites, but if you START scratching…forget it. You might as well carve off your top layer of skin with your leatherman. You’re probably better off.
And that rule about dawn and dusk. Absolute rubbish. I see them and am bitten at all times of the day. They hide out in the shadows, in the shade, where of course WE are all hiding out as well because it’s still sweltering.
It is miraculous that I do not have malaria. After all, it only takes one bite right? Good thing I’m a PCV and have free access to anti-malarials at all times right?
So there you have it.
Senegalese mosquitoes: 123+
Caitlin: 0
You tell me who is the inferior species.
The jury is still out.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
normalcy
As someone who has traveled a lot and lived away from home for a long time I am used to being away from family and friends. I pride myself on being independent and not getting homesick. But there is something about being back with other volunteers and being in a city (Thies, and now Dakar) that makes me really miss home and friends and family. At site I’m so far removed from my previous reality that I’m not tempted by “normal” things. But being around other volunteers and being in a city with access to luxury, air conditioning, restaurants, going for coffee and delicious food makes me miss the normalcy and the comfort of home. Maybe not even home, but places that just aren’t as hard.
I met up with someone who was in Thies on a brief internship with a NGO. Talking to him about the Peace Corps experience and the way we PCVs live and the kinds of challenges and stories we all have, made me realize how exceptional this program really is. And how hard. It also made me incredibly proud of how much I’ve changed over these past months (almost six). I can tolerate so much more discomfort and frustration then I ever could before. Things just roll off my back much more easily than they used to. And I’m much more patient. Though that is not always consistent.
I have become totally jaded over some things, like going to the garage. The moment I walk into the garage I put my mean face on. I am ready to be harassed, to be grabbed at, swindled, lied to, and surrounded by people. So much so that today when we met a perfectly polite, nice, driver I was already so heated that it took me a few minutes to realize that he wasn’t trying to take us for all we’re worth. He was polite, helpful, and considerate. It was refreshing. Turns out that he was not Wolof. Unfortunately, the stereotype is that the Wolof men are aggressive and in my experience most times so far it’s true. I am not sure what it stems from, but my only real interactions with them are at the garage so that’s probably pretty unrepresentative.
So I’m heading back up to site later this week. Part of me is dreading it. The heat, the frustrations, the language barriers, the starting up of huge new projects etc.
But when I visualize coming home and having my little siblings and my family run into my arms to greet me…I wish I was already back…and that I had never left.
I met up with someone who was in Thies on a brief internship with a NGO. Talking to him about the Peace Corps experience and the way we PCVs live and the kinds of challenges and stories we all have, made me realize how exceptional this program really is. And how hard. It also made me incredibly proud of how much I’ve changed over these past months (almost six). I can tolerate so much more discomfort and frustration then I ever could before. Things just roll off my back much more easily than they used to. And I’m much more patient. Though that is not always consistent.
I have become totally jaded over some things, like going to the garage. The moment I walk into the garage I put my mean face on. I am ready to be harassed, to be grabbed at, swindled, lied to, and surrounded by people. So much so that today when we met a perfectly polite, nice, driver I was already so heated that it took me a few minutes to realize that he wasn’t trying to take us for all we’re worth. He was polite, helpful, and considerate. It was refreshing. Turns out that he was not Wolof. Unfortunately, the stereotype is that the Wolof men are aggressive and in my experience most times so far it’s true. I am not sure what it stems from, but my only real interactions with them are at the garage so that’s probably pretty unrepresentative.
So I’m heading back up to site later this week. Part of me is dreading it. The heat, the frustrations, the language barriers, the starting up of huge new projects etc.
But when I visualize coming home and having my little siblings and my family run into my arms to greet me…I wish I was already back…and that I had never left.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
PC training
Peace Corps.
It’s impressive as a whole, but some of the pieces are far from perfect.
As a PCV I am learning firsthand about the frustrations that come from working for a large, bureaucratic, governmental organization.
For one thing, there seems to be a lot of ‘wasted’ idle time. Particularly when it comes to training and PC policy. Many of our training sessions are repetitive and common sense based. It’s as if those planning the trainings don’t trust the initial PC selection process. As if somewhere along the line, someone decided that we needed to have basic trainings in subjects as fundamental as peer counseling techniques. I am hard-pressed to find one American college educated adult who has not had to help a peer through a difficult moment, addiction, or major loss, at some point in their lives. To spend several hours discussing how to be an active listener instead of giving us tangible teaching tools for working at our sites is a colossal waste of everyone’s time.
Talking amongst other volunteers, a lot of us feel like we are treated like children instead of as capable, educated adults. I’m not sure if this is because a lot of us are so young? In our stage, there is no one under 28. Because our training staff are all much older it is an easy trap to fall into. And to be fair, when we first arrived we were new to this culture, the languages, customs, and acceptable behaviours. In some ways we were infants in this environment. But after three months at site, having adjusted and figured things out for ourselves, it is endlessly frustrating to be thrust back into that same power dynamic.
It is also trying, after being largely independent for several months at site, to come back into a large group of other Americans and be back in a community where I do not speak the local language (Wolof). It is almost impossible for me to be thrown back in with 37 other young Americans and not feel homesick for those close friends and loved ones we have all left behind. In fact, one of the only times that I do get homesick is when I am surrounded by other volunteers. I think this is because it reminds me of the history and memories I have with friends at home. Not that we all haven’t bonded intensely over these past 5 months (5 months as of today!) but we are all still so new to each other.
Some of my most frustrating moments have arisen when I’ve been here at the PC training center, immersed in Pre-service and now In-service training. Training certainly has some positive aspects, but I am learning how difficult it is to create a cohesive and productive training curriculum, when the overarching theme of the Peace Corps is that “every volunteer’s experience is different.” Having heard this all through PST we thought we got it. But I don’t think we grasped the truth and wisdom of this statement until those first couple of weeks at site. Even in a country as tiny as Senegal, it is impossible to categorize and generalize the PCV experience. Perhaps this is one of the most appealing things about the Peace Corps?
More disturbingly from the administrative side though, are the accounts I have heard from my volunteer friends about their site placements. This is probably the most important factor in determining the success and endurance of a volunteer’s service. Truly it is. And there have been several instances where it has just gone horribly wrong.
I am so fortunate to have been placed in my town and with my family. I know that I am in the perfect site for my goals, and background. But the horror stories that some of my friends have told me just highlight the lack of communication between staff and administration, and between Senegal and Washington.
One such example was a friend of mine who lives up north nearby. She was put in the second largest site amongst the health volunteers, without speaking a WORD of French. While I admire her perseverance, it is absolutely absurd that PC would place a volunteer in a regional capital without any French, negligible health experience, and only rudimental Pulaar. Upon installation the staff member turned to her and said, “You speak French right?” Ridiculous that he didn’t know that already.
Meanwhile, another volunteer who speaks fairly decent French, and who desperately wanted to be in an urban setting and has more health experience, was placed in a tiny village nearby where she has struggled to find a niche for herself. The happy ending to this story is that both volunteers have settled in for the time being, and have carved out lives for themselves. But one can’t help but wonder if they would be more productive at each other’s sites? Such a needless and easily avoidable blunder. And the lack of awareness from the administrative side does nothing to instill confidence.
These kinds of placement inefficiencies are numerous.
Another female volunteer was placed down south in an extremely difficult site where she is barely holding on. Why? The volunteer that set up that site emphatically recommended that only a male volunteer be placed down there because of the abundance of leering men who are seasonal workers at the mines in the region. She was told that she was placed there as an exception because of her HIV expertise. When she mentioned this to a staff member intimately involved with the PC Senegal health program she was told that “oh no, don’t work on HIV/AIDS issues. You should be focusing on respiratory illnesses and diarrhea.” So then why was she put there?
I am so proud that she has made it this far after hearing about everything she has had to overcome.
I recognize that one of the fundamental principles of the PC experience is patience. Patience and flexibility. But there is a fine line between expecting volunteers to roll with the punches and sheer negligence. Unfortunately for some volunteers, the latter has overshadowed their placement.
I am learning that development work is full of inefficiencies, false starts, slow progress, and miscommunication. But the most important thing that the Peace Corps has going for it that so few other NGOs and development organizations do is that we are here. We are present in these communities for two years. We intimately get to know the people, the culture, and thus the potential success of particular projects.
I have heard of so many instances of NGOs giving mosquito nets to villages, only to discover that they should have given big ones because families all want to sleep all together and they cannot fit under a single bed net.
Or that a development organization will spend hundreds of dollars to build a well in some remote village because they noticed or were told that women must walk far to pull water. When the well is finished no one uses it because lo and behold, the women enjoyed walking and that was their only social time for the day.
These are the kind of wastes that can only be avoided when you have an agent in the community. A PCV who is constantly watching with his or her observation goggles and creative thinking cap on. Paying attention to every minute detail so as to bring the most sustainable projects to our communities that we can possibly muster.
For now I’m rolling with the punches, though my patience is being tested every day, especially back here in training.
It’s impressive as a whole, but some of the pieces are far from perfect.
As a PCV I am learning firsthand about the frustrations that come from working for a large, bureaucratic, governmental organization.
For one thing, there seems to be a lot of ‘wasted’ idle time. Particularly when it comes to training and PC policy. Many of our training sessions are repetitive and common sense based. It’s as if those planning the trainings don’t trust the initial PC selection process. As if somewhere along the line, someone decided that we needed to have basic trainings in subjects as fundamental as peer counseling techniques. I am hard-pressed to find one American college educated adult who has not had to help a peer through a difficult moment, addiction, or major loss, at some point in their lives. To spend several hours discussing how to be an active listener instead of giving us tangible teaching tools for working at our sites is a colossal waste of everyone’s time.
Talking amongst other volunteers, a lot of us feel like we are treated like children instead of as capable, educated adults. I’m not sure if this is because a lot of us are so young? In our stage, there is no one under 28. Because our training staff are all much older it is an easy trap to fall into. And to be fair, when we first arrived we were new to this culture, the languages, customs, and acceptable behaviours. In some ways we were infants in this environment. But after three months at site, having adjusted and figured things out for ourselves, it is endlessly frustrating to be thrust back into that same power dynamic.
It is also trying, after being largely independent for several months at site, to come back into a large group of other Americans and be back in a community where I do not speak the local language (Wolof). It is almost impossible for me to be thrown back in with 37 other young Americans and not feel homesick for those close friends and loved ones we have all left behind. In fact, one of the only times that I do get homesick is when I am surrounded by other volunteers. I think this is because it reminds me of the history and memories I have with friends at home. Not that we all haven’t bonded intensely over these past 5 months (5 months as of today!) but we are all still so new to each other.
Some of my most frustrating moments have arisen when I’ve been here at the PC training center, immersed in Pre-service and now In-service training. Training certainly has some positive aspects, but I am learning how difficult it is to create a cohesive and productive training curriculum, when the overarching theme of the Peace Corps is that “every volunteer’s experience is different.” Having heard this all through PST we thought we got it. But I don’t think we grasped the truth and wisdom of this statement until those first couple of weeks at site. Even in a country as tiny as Senegal, it is impossible to categorize and generalize the PCV experience. Perhaps this is one of the most appealing things about the Peace Corps?
More disturbingly from the administrative side though, are the accounts I have heard from my volunteer friends about their site placements. This is probably the most important factor in determining the success and endurance of a volunteer’s service. Truly it is. And there have been several instances where it has just gone horribly wrong.
I am so fortunate to have been placed in my town and with my family. I know that I am in the perfect site for my goals, and background. But the horror stories that some of my friends have told me just highlight the lack of communication between staff and administration, and between Senegal and Washington.
One such example was a friend of mine who lives up north nearby. She was put in the second largest site amongst the health volunteers, without speaking a WORD of French. While I admire her perseverance, it is absolutely absurd that PC would place a volunteer in a regional capital without any French, negligible health experience, and only rudimental Pulaar. Upon installation the staff member turned to her and said, “You speak French right?” Ridiculous that he didn’t know that already.
Meanwhile, another volunteer who speaks fairly decent French, and who desperately wanted to be in an urban setting and has more health experience, was placed in a tiny village nearby where she has struggled to find a niche for herself. The happy ending to this story is that both volunteers have settled in for the time being, and have carved out lives for themselves. But one can’t help but wonder if they would be more productive at each other’s sites? Such a needless and easily avoidable blunder. And the lack of awareness from the administrative side does nothing to instill confidence.
These kinds of placement inefficiencies are numerous.
Another female volunteer was placed down south in an extremely difficult site where she is barely holding on. Why? The volunteer that set up that site emphatically recommended that only a male volunteer be placed down there because of the abundance of leering men who are seasonal workers at the mines in the region. She was told that she was placed there as an exception because of her HIV expertise. When she mentioned this to a staff member intimately involved with the PC Senegal health program she was told that “oh no, don’t work on HIV/AIDS issues. You should be focusing on respiratory illnesses and diarrhea.” So then why was she put there?
I am so proud that she has made it this far after hearing about everything she has had to overcome.
I recognize that one of the fundamental principles of the PC experience is patience. Patience and flexibility. But there is a fine line between expecting volunteers to roll with the punches and sheer negligence. Unfortunately for some volunteers, the latter has overshadowed their placement.
I am learning that development work is full of inefficiencies, false starts, slow progress, and miscommunication. But the most important thing that the Peace Corps has going for it that so few other NGOs and development organizations do is that we are here. We are present in these communities for two years. We intimately get to know the people, the culture, and thus the potential success of particular projects.
I have heard of so many instances of NGOs giving mosquito nets to villages, only to discover that they should have given big ones because families all want to sleep all together and they cannot fit under a single bed net.
Or that a development organization will spend hundreds of dollars to build a well in some remote village because they noticed or were told that women must walk far to pull water. When the well is finished no one uses it because lo and behold, the women enjoyed walking and that was their only social time for the day.
These are the kind of wastes that can only be avoided when you have an agent in the community. A PCV who is constantly watching with his or her observation goggles and creative thinking cap on. Paying attention to every minute detail so as to bring the most sustainable projects to our communities that we can possibly muster.
For now I’m rolling with the punches, though my patience is being tested every day, especially back here in training.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Brunch
Today has been the best day ever.
This morning, about 8 of us PCVs met up at one of the volunteer’s apartments who lives in Thies. She has an incredible place. A beautiful, breezy roof terrace, full kitchen, a real bedroom and a bathroom, the works. We spent the better half of the day cooking, sipping mimosas, dancing to music, dreading hair, laughing, and talking. It felt so normal, and so good to be so decadent and indulgent. And it really was.
We made vegan pancakes and smothered them with peanut butter, bananas, and chocolate spread and put them on a huge plate and sat around Senegalese style, eating with our hands. Then we moved on to the veggies, potatoes and egg course (all cooked over a gas tank mind you), and then feasted on fruit salad, yogurt, and topped it off with horchata.
But the part that was the most fun was realizing how easy it is to spoil ourselves now. I mean, eating pancakes and pb with your hands probably isn’t most people’s idea of a delicacy, but boy was it ever!
Then I went to a hotel pool for some sun and pool time and wireless internet. It started to rain so it’s cooling off. And then a few of us are meeting up for dinner in a bit.
Who ever said Peace Corps volunteers never get time off!
This morning, about 8 of us PCVs met up at one of the volunteer’s apartments who lives in Thies. She has an incredible place. A beautiful, breezy roof terrace, full kitchen, a real bedroom and a bathroom, the works. We spent the better half of the day cooking, sipping mimosas, dancing to music, dreading hair, laughing, and talking. It felt so normal, and so good to be so decadent and indulgent. And it really was.
We made vegan pancakes and smothered them with peanut butter, bananas, and chocolate spread and put them on a huge plate and sat around Senegalese style, eating with our hands. Then we moved on to the veggies, potatoes and egg course (all cooked over a gas tank mind you), and then feasted on fruit salad, yogurt, and topped it off with horchata.
But the part that was the most fun was realizing how easy it is to spoil ourselves now. I mean, eating pancakes and pb with your hands probably isn’t most people’s idea of a delicacy, but boy was it ever!
Then I went to a hotel pool for some sun and pool time and wireless internet. It started to rain so it’s cooling off. And then a few of us are meeting up for dinner in a bit.
Who ever said Peace Corps volunteers never get time off!
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Back in Thies
After only three short hours in Thies I had already eaten a hamburger and ice cream, drank a beer and an espresso, all while emailing on wireless internet at a café/restaurant in the center of downtown. Tremendous. It feels so wonderful to be “normal.”
Being here makes me remember how much I love living in cities, and how relaxing it is to be able to be anonymous and wander the streets and run errands without running into cousins and uncles, siblings, friends and colleagues. And how much I love being independent and not having to constantly report back to anyone about where I’m going or what I’m doing. Thies feels like what I expected Africa “should” feel like. It’s mildly humid, not too hot, breezy, green, lots of trees, and you can hear birds all the time.
It’s such a treat to see all of the volunteers I have been away from for 3 months. I didn’t realize how much I missed them until we were all back together. It’s like seeing long lost friends and family. Collectively the boys have probably lost about a person in weight. I think the most anyone has lost is 43 pounds. Some of them are looking pretty skeleton-like. Many of the girls have lost weight too. At least half of the group has already been to see the medical officers in Dakar already. Most for GI problems like amoebas, and others for various skin fungi, rashes, and side effects of anti-malarials. I feel fortunate that although I have been mildly ill at site a few times (most recently last week with a lovely 24 hour full body “purge”) nothing has been serious enough to warrant the trek to Dakar.
We all just can’t hang out together enough. Everyone has so many incredible stories already. Yesterday, in health technical training we went around and shared funny stories from site. I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time. It’s comforting to hear that everyone has had the same kind of awkward interactions and embarrassing misunderstandings. Today we each presented the health concerns of and activities within our communities. It’s informative and interesting to hear how varied the health problems are even within regions. It really is true that every volunteer’s experience is totally different. Speaking with the few other semi-urban health volunteers made me feel better about being so overwhelmed with how much there is to do at our sites.
I know that the next three weeks are just going to fly by. It’s a challenge to be back on a 6 day a week 7am to 6pm schedule, but we are all attacking IST with lots of energy and motivation to gain the necessary skills to get back to our sites and start implementing some great projects. We’re going to receive training specific to the needs of our sites. I want to learn some teaching tools for presenting health information to children, and women, and how to make things like Neem lotion (anti-mosquito) and present effective visual aids, how to access resources for women’s groups etc. The great thing about the training during IST is it’s all going to be concrete practical information that we can actually use back at site.
This weekend we have a trip to Dakar planned. The American Club is going to hold an exclusive party for all of us with a barbecue and we’ll spend the day by the pool and have a dance party in the evening. Sunday I plan on tracking down the Ethiopian restaurant in Dakar and having a feast. (Any of you sensing a theme to this entry yet? Aka. FOOD!)
Seeing my Thies family has been so great. It’s tough to balance spending time with them and getting in time with the other volunteers. But at least this time around I feel a lot less guilty for spending evenings out with the other PCVs. Family guilt is something that was pretty all consuming during PST for most of us. It was so great to see them though. The 4 sisters ran to greet me when I came home and my Baaba and Nene were just all smiles. It really did feel like I was coming home. Even the cockroaches were excited to see me!
I was impressed with how easy it felt to come back here. The first time we went to our host families in Thies it was totally overwhelming, and that was nothing compared to installation up at site in the Fouta. So coming back felt like no big deal at all. I caught myself thinking I was such a baby for being so nervous the first time around. But it’s all part of the adjustment process. And I’m proud of myself for being able to tolerate so much more after just 5 months.
Part of me feels a little schizophrenic being back here. As one of the other volunteers said, “how many lives can we lead at once?” She is absolutely right. I am a 24-year-old American named Cait Givens, but I am also Oumou Sall, a PCV at training in Thies, but also a Pulaar Fouta inhabitant volunteer named Binta Lam. It feels a little crazy to be juggling all three at once.
Here’s to a busy and productive three weeks!
And of course, to three full weeks worth of ice cream…
Being here makes me remember how much I love living in cities, and how relaxing it is to be able to be anonymous and wander the streets and run errands without running into cousins and uncles, siblings, friends and colleagues. And how much I love being independent and not having to constantly report back to anyone about where I’m going or what I’m doing. Thies feels like what I expected Africa “should” feel like. It’s mildly humid, not too hot, breezy, green, lots of trees, and you can hear birds all the time.
It’s such a treat to see all of the volunteers I have been away from for 3 months. I didn’t realize how much I missed them until we were all back together. It’s like seeing long lost friends and family. Collectively the boys have probably lost about a person in weight. I think the most anyone has lost is 43 pounds. Some of them are looking pretty skeleton-like. Many of the girls have lost weight too. At least half of the group has already been to see the medical officers in Dakar already. Most for GI problems like amoebas, and others for various skin fungi, rashes, and side effects of anti-malarials. I feel fortunate that although I have been mildly ill at site a few times (most recently last week with a lovely 24 hour full body “purge”) nothing has been serious enough to warrant the trek to Dakar.
We all just can’t hang out together enough. Everyone has so many incredible stories already. Yesterday, in health technical training we went around and shared funny stories from site. I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time. It’s comforting to hear that everyone has had the same kind of awkward interactions and embarrassing misunderstandings. Today we each presented the health concerns of and activities within our communities. It’s informative and interesting to hear how varied the health problems are even within regions. It really is true that every volunteer’s experience is totally different. Speaking with the few other semi-urban health volunteers made me feel better about being so overwhelmed with how much there is to do at our sites.
I know that the next three weeks are just going to fly by. It’s a challenge to be back on a 6 day a week 7am to 6pm schedule, but we are all attacking IST with lots of energy and motivation to gain the necessary skills to get back to our sites and start implementing some great projects. We’re going to receive training specific to the needs of our sites. I want to learn some teaching tools for presenting health information to children, and women, and how to make things like Neem lotion (anti-mosquito) and present effective visual aids, how to access resources for women’s groups etc. The great thing about the training during IST is it’s all going to be concrete practical information that we can actually use back at site.
This weekend we have a trip to Dakar planned. The American Club is going to hold an exclusive party for all of us with a barbecue and we’ll spend the day by the pool and have a dance party in the evening. Sunday I plan on tracking down the Ethiopian restaurant in Dakar and having a feast. (Any of you sensing a theme to this entry yet? Aka. FOOD!)
Seeing my Thies family has been so great. It’s tough to balance spending time with them and getting in time with the other volunteers. But at least this time around I feel a lot less guilty for spending evenings out with the other PCVs. Family guilt is something that was pretty all consuming during PST for most of us. It was so great to see them though. The 4 sisters ran to greet me when I came home and my Baaba and Nene were just all smiles. It really did feel like I was coming home. Even the cockroaches were excited to see me!
I was impressed with how easy it felt to come back here. The first time we went to our host families in Thies it was totally overwhelming, and that was nothing compared to installation up at site in the Fouta. So coming back felt like no big deal at all. I caught myself thinking I was such a baby for being so nervous the first time around. But it’s all part of the adjustment process. And I’m proud of myself for being able to tolerate so much more after just 5 months.
Part of me feels a little schizophrenic being back here. As one of the other volunteers said, “how many lives can we lead at once?” She is absolutely right. I am a 24-year-old American named Cait Givens, but I am also Oumou Sall, a PCV at training in Thies, but also a Pulaar Fouta inhabitant volunteer named Binta Lam. It feels a little crazy to be juggling all three at once.
Here’s to a busy and productive three weeks!
And of course, to three full weeks worth of ice cream…
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