I'm surprised. Surprised that only after one month I'm more or less adjusted to life on a new continent in the third poorest country on God's green earth. Surprised more so that it's only been one month. Waking up with a rat chewing on my leg, learning a new language, visiting a virgin rainforest, learning a completely different structure of government and education, finding new places to spend time with friends (heck, making the friends to hang out at the new places with), and adapting to countless other modifictions to everyday life are only a few changes that I've fit into a short month. The once foreign rhythm of the day is comfortable now. Waking up at five to the echoes of prayers that the mosques spray across Makeni and drawing water from the shallow wells to wash with (food and body alike) are unremarkable tasks now. The short walk and hundreds of 'hellos' between my house and the training center is as familiar as the walk from my college apartment to classes, or the drive from my house outside Dexter, Oregon to a friend's house in town. Playing basketball in the evenings with the kids at the pastoral center could almost be taking place on a basketball court at the Y in Eugene, or shooting around on the court next to Dexter reservoir.
I suppose what's surprised me the most lately is my realization that I've forced the experiences and occurrences of this new life into the paradigm of my life in the states- the rapidity and comprehensiveness of the categorizing being the surprising part. Of course I would try to assimilate new experiences to my old pattern to try and make sense of them, but I hope soon I'll learn a new way of living instead of trying to modify my old one. For example, as i'm writing this, i'm taking breaks to chase a mouse around my room with a dress shoe while Ke$ha blares from my abandoned headphones at my desk- the whole scene lit by a solar powered light. I can't be sure, but it seems like the eyeless fish head in my rice sauce is watching with a bit of disapproval. I don't think any Sierra Leoneans would be caught in such an absurd situation... I hope I naturalize sooner rather than later.
Today strayed a little from the normal routine though. The SL-2 group of Peace Corps volunteers found out where we're going to be stationed for the next two years of our service! It's sobering to think about being so singularly seperated from the other volunteers in the group, but this is what we came for. No one had anything negative to say about their site, and I couldn't be happier with my placement. I suppose it's appropriate that coming from the NW of the US that I'd end up as one of the furthest NW volunteers in Salone. My village of 1,800 is named Mambolo and is located on the boarder of the Port Loko/Kambia districts. It's close to the water (salt) and around 30 miles from the regional capital of Kambia. I'll be teaching Physics and Chemistry to the Senior Secondary School students (which at the moment seems daunting) and I can't wait to get to site and see my school. I was concerned when I read that the roads were almost impassable during the rainy season, but the fact that Pan-Pans (motorboats) run from Mambolo to Kambia, and even out into the ocean down to Freetown, placated me to say the least. I may or may not have already fantasized about a sunset motorboat ride past the beaches on the Salone coast to Freetown... once or twice.
Having learned a sufficient amount of Krio, really a broken, crude dialect of English, all of us volunteers are now breaking up into regionally specific groups. I'm learning Temne with a few other of the northern volunteers, while those in the south are primarily learning Mende. The smattering of volunteers between, or in specific regions, are learning more specialized languages. My host family seemed pleased that I'd be learning the language they speak around here in Makeni where we're training, but one woman in my compound- gifted with the ability to kill a good mood- just said, "Eee boo... dem get boku Flay dem (mosquitos) na Mambolo."
Well as much as I could write about how excited I am to drop knowledge bombs on my, as of now, unassuming Salone students in Mambolo, I suppose I should call it a day. It's 9:30 after all. I hope all of you back stateside are doing as well as God could make you. Don't take anything, however small, for granted. Take comfort though that, like the citizens here, even if you don't even have little things to appreciate, you've still got each other to be caring for. And they're there to care for you.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
#10 Upper Banna St.
#10 Upper Bannana Street
Life on upper bannana street since I was adopted a few short days ago has been an overwhelming, inotixicating, stressful, briliant, strange, perfect, exhausting, warm, and confusing introduction to life in a Sierra Leonean family. They subscribe to the 'Extended Family' model rather than the traditional 'Nucleus' family model in Amercia. I haven't figured out the names of all my new brothers and sisters yet, but I know there aren't any parents in the house, but 'grandpa' has left his room several times to make go pray and give me a warm smile. Sacco has been my constant escort around the parts of makeni i've seen, and even in my room sitting with me whenever I'm back. A second shadow.
It might seem like a small accomplishment to have only completed the first week of pre service training here in Makeni, but it was reason enough for most of the volunteers to rendevous at the 'clubhouse' for some food and drinks It's some place run by a couple guys from a British NGO... all we cared about was the AC. 30,000 for a pizza? 25,000 for a hamburger? I'll take two, please. My host family called me away a little early last night, but I'm sure we'll see more of the clubhouse in the next months.
Mornings start before morning time here. It seems like no matter how early I wake up in this house, there are already people awake arguing, talking, cooking, or cleaning laundry/floors. After a short swim out of the pool of sweat I made overnight, I make my bed, sweep my room with the Hoover Vac (Africa Edition....so it's some sticks bundled together), then go to the well to get water. I have a new 'mama' that I get water for every morning. No matter how early she's already sitting outside here house weaving-- i asked if she makes blankets and she said 'for you I would.' So I might purchase a blanket to take out to my village sometime. After water, i'm sat down by my host family for some breakfast. Mayonaise with sardine sandwich? Talk about a wake up for your face.
Today is the first day my sister Mariama took me to the market to shop for our chop (food). We bought some peppers, an onion, four fish, palm oil, and a few plants that I've never seen growing in the US. Here something as simple as cooking can turn into a spectacle when a white man is trying to do it, so needless to say I had about 40 children watching me by the end of it. We made fu-fu and it really wasn't that bad. Boom. One meal dominated. The days till now have been filled with classes, and it feels like I've got a ton of freetime today. Maybe I'll take a luxurious bucket shower...
Anyway, I was thinking I'd write a few letters to you amazing people back home this weekend unless I'm too busy learning how to wash, shop, cook, or clean. One of the smaller children is playing his favorite game- runround the houe and yell 'white man' so I think I'll run along and see if I can teach him my new African name.
Life on upper bannana street since I was adopted a few short days ago has been an overwhelming, inotixicating, stressful, briliant, strange, perfect, exhausting, warm, and confusing introduction to life in a Sierra Leonean family. They subscribe to the 'Extended Family' model rather than the traditional 'Nucleus' family model in Amercia. I haven't figured out the names of all my new brothers and sisters yet, but I know there aren't any parents in the house, but 'grandpa' has left his room several times to make go pray and give me a warm smile. Sacco has been my constant escort around the parts of makeni i've seen, and even in my room sitting with me whenever I'm back. A second shadow.
It might seem like a small accomplishment to have only completed the first week of pre service training here in Makeni, but it was reason enough for most of the volunteers to rendevous at the 'clubhouse' for some food and drinks It's some place run by a couple guys from a British NGO... all we cared about was the AC. 30,000 for a pizza? 25,000 for a hamburger? I'll take two, please. My host family called me away a little early last night, but I'm sure we'll see more of the clubhouse in the next months.
Mornings start before morning time here. It seems like no matter how early I wake up in this house, there are already people awake arguing, talking, cooking, or cleaning laundry/floors. After a short swim out of the pool of sweat I made overnight, I make my bed, sweep my room with the Hoover Vac (Africa Edition....so it's some sticks bundled together), then go to the well to get water. I have a new 'mama' that I get water for every morning. No matter how early she's already sitting outside here house weaving-- i asked if she makes blankets and she said 'for you I would.' So I might purchase a blanket to take out to my village sometime. After water, i'm sat down by my host family for some breakfast. Mayonaise with sardine sandwich? Talk about a wake up for your face.
Today is the first day my sister Mariama took me to the market to shop for our chop (food). We bought some peppers, an onion, four fish, palm oil, and a few plants that I've never seen growing in the US. Here something as simple as cooking can turn into a spectacle when a white man is trying to do it, so needless to say I had about 40 children watching me by the end of it. We made fu-fu and it really wasn't that bad. Boom. One meal dominated. The days till now have been filled with classes, and it feels like I've got a ton of freetime today. Maybe I'll take a luxurious bucket shower...
Anyway, I was thinking I'd write a few letters to you amazing people back home this weekend unless I'm too busy learning how to wash, shop, cook, or clean. One of the smaller children is playing his favorite game- runround the houe and yell 'white man' so I think I'll run along and see if I can teach him my new African name.
So excited I almost pooped my pants
The short flight from Eugene to Portland to catch my connecting flight to the Chicago O'Hare airport isn't memorable. I have only a very few fond memories of the short two days in Chicago-that's where my journey transitioned from 'mine' to 'ours' as I had the opportunity to meet the other 48 extrodinary volunteers I would be traveling with to Salone and training with for the next three months. And maybe I have one or two memories of spending the living stipend the Peace Corps gave us on Chicago pizza and the nectar of the city- beer- but it wasn't until after stepping off the plane into Salone sunlight, after hours of flying, that my memories become vivid. The steep steps of the plane that carried us from Brussels led down to a paved tarmac a few dozen meters away from the terminal door. A man standing infront of a handheld camera was speaking at it while we walked past behind him to shake the hand of one of the peace corps country directors at the door. He said, "Welcome, you were just on national television."
The warmth of the welome the Sierra Leoneans gave us can't be expressed in words, but the car drive from the ferry that brought us to freetown to the hostel can- it was a Hollywood set. Every image of Africa I had pictured and tried to dispel from my head, assuming it was naive, was represented on the saturated streets of Freetown- a city of 3 million. The spectacle of 10 or so Peace Corps vehicles convoying through freetown was obviously going to draw a crowd, but I'm not sure if any of us could have expected the attention and yells of "Oputo!" (white man) that filtered through our windows. There was a distinguishable calming of the atmosphere as we entered the gates of the stadium hostel- our home (and prison) for the next several days.
There are many things that would be worth mentioning in the few days after arriving on this new continent- the misquito net that seemed at first so novel to sleep under, a view of the harbor and cemetery across the dirt road our balconies offered, the connections and conversations with other volunteers, the new foods we were being served, the stubborn AC unit that refused to be a team player, the few words of Krio we learned, the cross cultural training and advice we were given by the Salone-1 group of volunteers, along with all the sights, smells, people and experiences Freetown was giving us a glimpse of. The most significant thing I've realized over just the last week after arriving here, is that all the excitement and anticipation I built up for this experience was not in vain. Salone is a place where I can learn and, I hope, thrive in. I'm looking forward to sinking some roots into this country's soil.
The craziest part of this trip so far happend yesterday- the 'bus' ride from Freetown to Makeni, and the adoption ceremony that followed. After a few hours on the lorry from freetown, we rolled through the gates of our new training facility- the old town hall here in Makeni. It was peppered with the beaming faces of our soon-to-be host families. After the usual Sierra Leone formalities, we were paired off with our host families, each happy family receiving a nervous, but equally excited volunteer. My anticipation was turning to aggravation having to wait till I was called- the very last of the volunteers to be paired with a family. I didn't mind the wait, because, as I would find out later, it was the best family I could ask for...
After the adoption ceremony I became an official pikin in a Sierra Leonean family- that means over the next 10 weeks I'll be pressed to learn about a flurry of things: Sponge baths, latrines, laundry, drawing water, cooking, Krio, Temne, and every other aspect of life in Salone I don't even know I don't know about. Sacco and Mariama have been the best host brother and sister imagineable though, and I feel so warmly and overwhelmingly taken care of here. Not to say I want them to keep feeding me the massive portions of bread and rice with kasava leaves they've been sitting around watching me eat, but their hospitatlity is almost crippling sometimes. I don't know enough language or enough about the culture to express how much I really appreciate how much they're doing for me, but hopefully soon I'll be savvy enough.
What am amazing trip so far.
The warmth of the welome the Sierra Leoneans gave us can't be expressed in words, but the car drive from the ferry that brought us to freetown to the hostel can- it was a Hollywood set. Every image of Africa I had pictured and tried to dispel from my head, assuming it was naive, was represented on the saturated streets of Freetown- a city of 3 million. The spectacle of 10 or so Peace Corps vehicles convoying through freetown was obviously going to draw a crowd, but I'm not sure if any of us could have expected the attention and yells of "Oputo!" (white man) that filtered through our windows. There was a distinguishable calming of the atmosphere as we entered the gates of the stadium hostel- our home (and prison) for the next several days.
There are many things that would be worth mentioning in the few days after arriving on this new continent- the misquito net that seemed at first so novel to sleep under, a view of the harbor and cemetery across the dirt road our balconies offered, the connections and conversations with other volunteers, the new foods we were being served, the stubborn AC unit that refused to be a team player, the few words of Krio we learned, the cross cultural training and advice we were given by the Salone-1 group of volunteers, along with all the sights, smells, people and experiences Freetown was giving us a glimpse of. The most significant thing I've realized over just the last week after arriving here, is that all the excitement and anticipation I built up for this experience was not in vain. Salone is a place where I can learn and, I hope, thrive in. I'm looking forward to sinking some roots into this country's soil.
The craziest part of this trip so far happend yesterday- the 'bus' ride from Freetown to Makeni, and the adoption ceremony that followed. After a few hours on the lorry from freetown, we rolled through the gates of our new training facility- the old town hall here in Makeni. It was peppered with the beaming faces of our soon-to-be host families. After the usual Sierra Leone formalities, we were paired off with our host families, each happy family receiving a nervous, but equally excited volunteer. My anticipation was turning to aggravation having to wait till I was called- the very last of the volunteers to be paired with a family. I didn't mind the wait, because, as I would find out later, it was the best family I could ask for...
After the adoption ceremony I became an official pikin in a Sierra Leonean family- that means over the next 10 weeks I'll be pressed to learn about a flurry of things: Sponge baths, latrines, laundry, drawing water, cooking, Krio, Temne, and every other aspect of life in Salone I don't even know I don't know about. Sacco and Mariama have been the best host brother and sister imagineable though, and I feel so warmly and overwhelmingly taken care of here. Not to say I want them to keep feeding me the massive portions of bread and rice with kasava leaves they've been sitting around watching me eat, but their hospitatlity is almost crippling sometimes. I don't know enough language or enough about the culture to express how much I really appreciate how much they're doing for me, but hopefully soon I'll be savvy enough.
What am amazing trip so far.
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