tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77886388192363453842024-02-19T00:56:02.510-08:00Adventures Near and FarWelcome to my adventures! Feel free to leave comments and enjoy! Much love to you all!Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-39026605643141300272013-08-03T07:11:00.000-07:002013-10-03T12:56:07.617-07:00Two Week Break From School: ADVENTURE TIME! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Cheesecake as we cross the border into Malawi</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset and the first star of the night over Lake Malawi</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A 10 hour train ride through beautiful scenery!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ihla de Mocambique (Mozambique Island)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A 7 hour hike through the lush jungle searching for elephants in the mountains of Manica!</td></tr>
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Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-9801733543575767892013-07-10T05:15:00.001-07:002013-10-03T12:34:33.393-07:00 Building a Basketball Court In Mozambique! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of my REDES girls and I reunited after my evacuation! </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hello friends and family! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First of all, I would like to let everyone know that I am safe, and after a 2 week evacuation from my village due to political unrest in the central part of the country, I have returned to my site and am diving right back into work. This unexpected time away from site has put me a little behind on a few of my projects, the most important being a basketball court and HIV/AIDS education program in my village. As many of you know, I am currently serving as a Peace Corps volunteer in Mozambique. I live in a rural town in the Province of Tete, and I am working with my village to build a community basketball court. I facilitate a girls leadership group at my school called REDES (</span><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Raparigas Em Desenvolvimento, Educa</span><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">çã</span><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">o, e Sa</span><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">ú</span><span style="font-family: 'Cambria','serif'; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">de</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">, TRANSLATION: Girls in Development, Education, and Health). It was <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>this group of 6<sup>th</sup>-10<sup>th</sup> grade girls who came up with the project as a way of helping their community, and I am doing everything I can to help them achieve their goals. The project aims to construct a basketball court and HIV/AIDS awareness mural as a means of addressing several community needs. This court and incorporated mural will address not only the need for positive youth extracurricular activities, but it will provide an accessible route to community HIV/AIDS education. Upon the court’s completion, the space will be utilized not only for sporting events and physical education classes for grades 1-10, but also for monthly health workshops and HIV testing campaigns, and countless hours of fun and learning. The community, and especially the youth, are very excited about the project and have already begun to accumulate materials at the building site. The community has pledged to not only provide a substantial amount of the construction materials (including bricks, quarry rocks, sand, and water), but they have pledged their time in the form of manual labor. I have been journeying into the African bush with my students to gather rocks and sand for the construction and everyone is working very hard! Thanks to everyone for your kind words and support, and please continue to wish us luck on this project as there is still a lot to be done! </span></div>
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Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-52861178252995888982013-04-30T11:17:00.000-07:002013-04-30T11:17:02.677-07:00Stomping Out Malaria In Mozambique! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Hello all, sorry for the very long blog hiatus, but I’ve been having lots of adventures, near and far! I am now back at site and have internet, so expect lots of updates about my recent travels in the next few weeks. I would like to kick off my return to my blog with a contribution to Peace Corps Mozambique’s Stomp Out Malaria Initiative. April is world malaria month and as Peace Corps volunteers in Africa, malaria is a dreaded yet very present element of our lives. Let me paint you a picture of the malaria situation in Mozambique, and more specifically in my community. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Of the plethora of deadly diseases in Africa, Malaria is the most lethal of them all in Mozambique. Not AIDS, not mal nutrition, but malaria. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It accounts for the most deaths country wide and is responsible for approximately 46% of all deaths of children under 5. Those most vulnerable are those who are HIV positive, pregnant women, and children. Furthermore, of the various types of malaria in existence, Mozambique hosts the most dangerous kind, associated with cerebral malaria and most difficult to cure in advanced stages. I’m definitely not a doctor or very scientifically inclined, but here goes my malaria breakdown. There are two main vectors to infection: humans and mosquitos, and both need to be present to maintain an epidemic. In Mozambique, malaria is transmitted year round, and although many people reach levels of immunity, 100% of the population is at risk. The immunity that people born and raised in the country acquire is not always effective against the disease, and women lose this immunity when they become pregnant, putting themselves and their unborn child at risk. The Mozambican malaria culprit is the female anopheles mosquito. They like fresh clean water, feed between 6pm and 6am, and can travel up to four kilometers. Once infected, a host may not exhibit symptoms, but is still capable of transmitting the disease through mosquito bites to others. The symptoms further complicate the situation as they include headache, fever, nausea, body aches, fatigue, and at a more extreme level, anemia, kidney failure, and coma. As you can see the majority of symptoms could be attributed to any number of ailments, or basically daily life in Africa, and many people wait too long before being tested, thinking they may just have eaten something bad or have the flu. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, the saddest part about the malaria situation, is that the disease is preventable, manageable, and survivable with the right resources, resources that are not available or not utilized by much of the population. For example, despite the constant stream of potentially malaria infected patients, the local health clinic in my community is frequently out of malaria tests and treatment medication. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just two weeks ago, the baby of a close friend of mine was diagnosed with malaria. He had a dangerously high fever and was not recovering. His frightened mother waited 5 hours at the clinic just to be told that they had run out of medication. She then traveled to the nearest town, but that clinic’s medical stores had also been depleted. She tried three more rural health clinics with no luck, and having wasted two critical days, returned downtrodden and worried to her home. The next morning, she made the long and expensive trip in to the Provincial capital, but none of the public clinics could help her. She was forced to go to an expensive private clinic, where she spent nearly ¼ of her family’s monthly income on the medicine her baby needed. Others are not so lucky. Others do not have the resources to travel to the city or to purchase medicine from private clinics. Others live too far from health centers to be tested, and still other are too scared of the testing process and of the potential results to make the trek to the hospital. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, there is hope in this situation. Malaria had been eradicated in many locations around the world, and hopefully one day Mozambique will also find itself rid of this deadly burden. Efforts are constantly being made to decrease infection, and by spreading awareness, hopefully the world will take an interest and help Africa deal with its most dangerous killer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are working towards this dream in many ways. Through wide-spread mosquito net distribution, the disease can be greatly controlled. In areas where 80% of the population sleeps under nets, malaria infection is typically reduced by 50 %. Early diagnoses and treatment is also important. As humans are a vector, identifying, quarantining, and treating those infected with malaria, keeps the disease from being transmitted to others in the vicinity. Furthermore, efforts to help pregnant women avoid malaria are being made. As pregnant women lose their native immunity, they are provided with two doses of prophylaxes and bed nets, free of charge. However, both doses must be taken, and as many women live very far from health centers, only 10% actually complete the dosages. As part of Peace Corps’ Stomp Out Malaria imitative, volunteers are working at a grassroots level to reduce malaria in our thousands of sites throughout Africa and are conducting online awareness campaigns to spread the word! As lack of information and resources is the main problem in my community, I am working on a local health fair highlighting the dangers, means of transmission, and ways of preventing and treating malaria. The fair will include a bed-net give away and will hopefully help contribute in a small, yet meaningful way to Stomping Out Malaria in Africa! I am truly lucky not to have had malaria so far (KNOCKING ON JUST ABOUT EVERY WOODEN SURFACE IN MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW), but many of my fellow volunteers have felt the painful wrath of anopheles mosquito. From what I hear, it is one of the most miserable experiences of one’s life, and I am hoping to make it through this last 7 months of my service malaria free. Much love to you all, and if you are lucky enough to be reading this from a malaria free zone be thankful! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-71044819167316555712013-02-11T09:16:00.000-08:002013-02-11T09:16:23.019-08:00The Wildlife <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Picture yourself on the African savannah A hot wind blows through your hair as you gaze over the dried
grasslands which stretch for miles in every direction. As you look towards the horizon, you spot a
herd of elephants silhouetted by the setting sun and as you make your way
towards the nearby watering hole, you encounter a teeming mass of wildlife.
Zebras, giraffes, gazelles and wildebeests converge on the precious water, taking
their chances against the lurking crocodiles.
It is scenes like this one that bring people from across the globe to
the plains of Africa. Thus far however, I have yet to encounter a single
example of classic African wildlife. Instead of elephants, lions, cheetahs,
giraffes, or zebras, I have been experiencing a different perspective on
African wildlife- the creepy crawler version of the circle of life. Instead of majestic cats or awe-inspiring herbivores,
I have been immersed in the world of insects and reptiles, and their
populations are increasing at an alarming rate. <o:p></o:p></div>
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This
week has been a week of my African Big 5: mosquitoes, lizards, spiders, wasps,
and snakes. As the rainy season is in
full swing, my usually quite barren site is teeming with life. The constant supply of standing water, left
over by the daily rains, has created a mosquito paradise. They emerge every
morning and dusk in malaria infested swarms, and I spend these mosquito-dense
hours doing whatever I would normally be doing (lesson planning, reading, spacing
out and pondering life, etc.) in the safety of my mosquito net. On the
plus-side, mosquito bites are such the norm among the population right now that
whenever a sunscreen induced pimple appears on my face, my neighbors just
assume it’s a mosquito bite.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Unluckily for the mosquitos, lizards
have been hatching left and right. I counted 10 baby and adolescent lizards in
my house today alone. They range in size from under an inch (the adorable
teeny-tiny newborns) to over 9 inches (I’m assuming their mothers). The lizards
however, are my favorite intruders. They eat mosquitos, they are clean, they
are not venomous, and we get along fine. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"> The spider population has also been
increasingly lately. As spiders help control the mosquitos and flies, and
I’ve never been afraid of them in the past, I was fine with my resident
spiders, but lately there have been just too many. The
majority of my spider roommates are a large, incredibly flat species which is
not dangerous or aggressive and I generally leave them alone, but this week
there were at least three hatchings and some of them had to go. There are also a few spiders that closely resemble scorpions and they are always a lovely surprise. The last straw
came in the form of a tarantula sized spider falling from a web onto my foot as I
opened my front door a few days ago. I instinctively stepped on it and the amount
of guts that went flying was shocking. I decided it was time for my eight-legged house-mates to find a new home,
so yesterday I went on an epic cob-web cleaning spree and swept as
many spiders as possible out of my house. With a plastic bag tied around my
head to protect my hair from angry soon-to-be-homeless spiders and sunglasses on to protect my eyes, I
went to work evicting those who had over-run their welcome.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Now, let’s move on to the wasps. I
am not a fan of the wasps. They are huge, loud wasps and have incredibly
painful and toxic stings. Although I have luckily not been bit, I have seen the
effects of their stings on others, and it is not a pretty sight. I spend hours of downtime stalking them with
a fly swatter reinforced with packing tape. They are fast, but my fly-swatter
turned wasp swatter skills are improving. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
If you noticed, we are moving from
my favorite intruders to my least favorites, and here we are at my very least
favorite of the creepy crawlers - the snakes. Even in the United States I had a
somewhat irrational fear of snakes. But here, where 9 of the 10 most dangerous
snakes in the world are found, the fear seems a bit more rational and is, in
all honesty, bordering on constant terror. Luckily I have a pair of snake-proof
boots (like SUPER rain boots) that are great for wading through potentially
snake-infested puddles or walking through suspiciously tall grass. However, my most recent, petrifying snake
encounter did not occur on an overgrown path, in a murky puddle, or even while
chopping the grass in my yard, but IN MY HOUSE. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It was around 11 pm, and I had just
finished lesson planning. It was way past Mozambican bed time, so all my
neighbors were fast asleep. I went through my regular nightly routine of
brushing my teeth, washing my face, putting on my pajamas, and then I went to
lock the iron gate on the outside of my door, something I do every night. I
reached into the darkness to grab the gate and felt something move as my hand
brushed against it. I pulled back my hand and instantly jumped back just as a
long, black snake fell to the floor. I
thought I was going to have a heart attack, and I have honestly never been as
scared as I was in that moment. The
snake was coiled and still. Although it was not huge, it was probably about 3
feet long and was very black. Although I did not know if the snake was venomous,
black mambas, one of the most dangerous snakes in the entire world, live in
Mozambique, so I panicked, jumped into my snake books, and rushed to my kitchen
in search of some sort of weapon. I managed to find a large stick and a kitchen
knife. I whacked the snake with the stick. It didn’t faze the slithering beast.
The snake began gliding quickly across the floor, so I struck again, this time
inflicting some damage, but still the snake was moving across the floor. By
this point I was standing on a chair, sobbing in fear (I have never in my
entire life cried from being afraid) and did the only thing I could think of. I
threw the sharpened kitchen knife at the snake, slicing through its body. Now
there was snake blood everywhere, and those of you who know me, know how I feel
about blood. Finally the snake seemed to be on the road to death, but it was still
moving and I was therefor still terrified. After whacking the snake for what
seemed like a tear-filled, heart-racing eternity. It finally ceased to move. I
timidly and still trembling removed the snake’s body with the stick, locked my
door, and worked up the courage to clean up the snake blood. Needless to say,
the experience was nightmare inducing and I did not sleep that night. I have
been on high snake alert ever since. I conduct at least two snake-searches of the
house a day and keep various snake-killing weapons stashed around the house. On the plus side, the neighborhood children
and even the adults were very impressed that I was able to kill the snake by
myself, and my snake-slaying skills have been the source of great respect from
my community. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Although the encounter was one of the most
terrifying experiences of my entire life, I have to admit it was also slightly
humorous. I mean a crying person wearing pajamas standing on a chair in the
middle of the living room wearing pajamas and rubber snake boots throwing
knives at a probably harmless (but then again MAYBE NOT) snake would be pretty
funny to an observer (who was not afraid of snakes and who knew for certain
that the snake was harmless). If the snake actually was harmless, I feel bad about
killing it the way I did, but I still don’t know what kind of snake it was, my
neighbors seem to think “it could have bit me” whatever that means, and in the
moment all I could think was IT HAS TO BE A BLACK MAMBA, so I’m standing my
panic- induced decision. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Not all the creepy crawlers are
overwhelming or scary though. There is a really cool giant centipede that
lives in my shower and keeps its distance and there are always a few cheery,
brightly colored beetles around. This
week I had the privilege of finding a beautiful, and surprisingly large,
beetle-like bug with a red and black shell and very sticky feet. In an effort to avoid terrifying all of you,
this is the picture I have chosen to include. Check out this cute little guy
sitting on my rain-soaked cement porch. Hopefully one day I'll get to see some elephants or zebras, but for now I'll be content with the cute little beetles. As always, much love to you all and thanks for
reading! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihbFWO5sTnpgiS5Bw61K6te7VuWZJnvQ6zDpv_iP3r2x0ezhECIrkGnT0vyFAjib-GnEF8esMF_tEejeNsB0b83ZSqWsnx1ZlcXdlBvwPI9pyEqKY5_QQh-_7X8DyC5ipkxPvg8Vrm82if/s1600/20110101_54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihbFWO5sTnpgiS5Bw61K6te7VuWZJnvQ6zDpv_iP3r2x0ezhECIrkGnT0vyFAjib-GnEF8esMF_tEejeNsB0b83ZSqWsnx1ZlcXdlBvwPI9pyEqKY5_QQh-_7X8DyC5ipkxPvg8Vrm82if/s400/20110101_54.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the cute creepy-crawlers </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-32906740393997709982013-01-28T10:26:00.000-08:002013-01-28T11:07:00.209-08:00The Goat Rescue <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
So as I’ve had several requests for
an elaboration of the goat incident, here it goes. I spent Saturday in Tete
City, the provincial capital. I have to go there to go grocery shopping so I
make the trip every week or two. Any adventure to Tete is usually exhausting
since the city, which is along the banks of the Zambezi River, is regarded as
the absolute hottest point in Mozambique and probably all of Southern Africa.
Most travel guides suggest staying away as the heat is overwhelming for
visitors, but since I don’t have a market in my town, I spend a fairly
significant amount of time in one of Africa’s hottest cities. Luckily it’s a
fairly clean, friendly city, and although the shopping trips are sweaty and
exhausting, I enjoy them. Whenever I go to Tete, I spend at least half my time
sitting in a restaurant with air-conditioning and stalling as much as possible
while on errands in air-conditioned locations. My favorite restaurant has
MULTIPLE air-conditioning units, giant fans, falafel, and ice cream….it is
paradise. However, the power was out on
Saturday so Helen and I were left to run our errands amid the blistering heat
without the promise of an air-conditioned oasis lunch. All was not lost though
as the market was better stocked than usual, I found a fresh pineapple that I
could afford, and eventually the power came back on. Needless to say, when I arrived back home that
afternoon, I was pretty tired. However, there would be no time for relaxation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As soon
as I had put down my backpack and begun to unpack my precious cargo of fruit, vegetables,
dried beans, rice, powdered milk, and peanut butter, my 7<sup>th</sup> grade neighbor
came by with bad news. She timidly told me that a goat was in my latrine. Now,
I have to explain that goats are frequently in my latrine. They use it as a
shelter when it is raining or when the sun is too hot, so I thought she was
just informing me about the usual goat trespassers, but something in her tone
warned me otherwise. She then told me to come look, so putting my shiny new jar
of peanut butter on the shelf, I followed her outside to my pit latrine. My
latrine is a cement structure with a tin roof. The floor is cement and has an opening
cut in the middle of it with a very deep pit below it (probably about 10 feet).
Although a wall provides privacy for the user, there is no door, hence the
usual goat intruders. These goats USUALLY stay away from the hole, sensing as
any intelligent goat would, its impending danger. Furthermore, the hole, over
which the user must squat to do their daily business, is too small for most
goats to fall through. It was just big enough however for a young goat to get
itself into quite a crappy situation…literally. You could even say his life was
in the pits at the moment. The poor thing had somehow managed to fall through
the hole in the floor and into the deep, incredibly disgusting contents of the
latrine. The goat was now crying and crying, calling to its mother or anyone
who would listen, or probably just crying about how much of a bummer being
trapped in a pit latrine is. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was
startled, sad, and worried all at once. I asked my neighbor what she thought we
should do. She said the only option was to leave him in there. Not willing to
believe this, I went to talk to other neighbors about the situation. They
seemed much less alarmed then I was, informing me that this happens all the
time and blaming the goat’s owners for not keeping better track of their animals.
Neighbor after neighbor told me that unless I could find a legendary old,
drunken man who wanders the town and has been known to get goats out of
latrines in the past, the only option was to leave it. However, this was
definitely not an option in my book. The thought of having to take care of my
daily “bathroom” business on top of a slowly dying adolescent goat was not only
unthinkable for me, but sent me into a panic-driven frenzy to rescue the goat.
I went back to my house, looking out for the old drunken wanderer, but he hadn't been seen for months, so that option was basically out. When I got home,
I put on my headlamp, cut down my clothes line to make a lasso, and headed back
out to the latrine. Shining my headlamp into the dark, feces-filled abyss, I
could make out the goat. I secured my headlamp even tighter to insure it too
was not claimed by the pit, and lowered the clothes-line lasso into the depths.
The smell was appalling. As I tried to get the lasso around the goat’s body, it
retreated into the corner, into the space under the floor of the latrine, where
I could no longer see it. I handed over the lasso to the neighbor and went to a
nearby tree to pick some leaves, a favorite goat snack. Throwing the leaves
into the pit in an attempt to lure the frightened animal back in to our sight,
I couldn’t help feeling incredibly sorry for this poor creature. What a
predicament! A few of my students who
had come by to see what I was doing tried to help by making goat calls, trying
to get the animal out of hiding. After several unsuccessful attempts to fish
the goat out with my make-shift lasso, we had attracted a substantial crowd of
onlookers, who once again advised me not to worry and to just leave the goat. I
was getting frustrated. There was no way I was leaving a goat to die in my
latrine. I mean it already smells bad enough and what an awful, AWFUL, AWFULLL
way to die! No animal should have to suffer like that. I was beginning to panic
due to everyone else’s lack of motivation, and my thoughts were racing. Was
there any way for me to fit through the hole, climb down, and get the goat? I
could take a really long bucket bath after. Could the goat be coaxed to climb
into a bucket if I lowered one down?
Could we dig a tunnel through the side of the pit to retrieve the little
guy? WHAT IF I HAVE TO POOP ON TOP OF A DYING GOAT EVERYDAY!???? AHHHHH…I think
I would go home if that was the case. So
in a last attempt to inspire motivation and get the on-looking kids on board
with the rescue, I offered 100 meticais (all the money I had in my pocket) to
the first one to rescue the goat. 100 mets is about $3, but was a small fortune
to the neighborhood kids. Immediately
they sprang into action. Goat rescuing contraptions began to materialize out of
every possible resource. There were harnesses made of twine and attached to
long sticks, a similar invention made of plastic bags, various ropes and cords,
and even some offers to climb into the latrine. I refused to let any children
climb down the hole…a goat stuck in the latrine was one thing, but I definitely
did not want to responsible for getting a kid trapped in there. After a few hours of attempts, altering the
contraptions, re-coaxing the goat back into sight, and confused looks from
passing adults, the winning contraption came into being. Two of my students
made a lasso-like attachment out of yucca leaves and connected it to a long
stick. I handed over my headlamp and wished them luck. They spent the next half
hour or so trying to capture the goat. I was just about to give up on them when
I heard a commotion inside the latrine. I had a sudden fear that they had
dropped my headlamp in the ominous pit, but realized almost immediately that
they were cries of victory, and the goat cries were definitely less muffled!
Just then, the goat came storming around the corner of the latrine, flustered
and very dirty and followed by the victorious goat-rescuers. I quickly snapped
a picture of the group and asked them not to release the goat until I gave it a
bath. So, after having a few buckets of water dumped on him and a heartwarming
reunion with his mother, the little guy’s nightmare was over, two of my
students became the richest kids around, and I when nature calls, I can use my
goat-free latrine once again. Although a stressful incident at the time, the
goat rescue brought me closer to many of my students, taught the onlookers that
not everybody thinks it’s ok to leave goats to die in latrines, and was
actually pretty entertaining in hindsight.
You’ll be pleased to know that I
have since reinforced my goat-guarding mechanisms and have redesigned the
latrine lid to be heavier and not easily pushed aside by a stumbling baby goat.
Thanks for reading everybody and much
love to you all! Until the next adventure! <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYMeLhxEou_u9r5vjLzpdqf0f3RCmk_UqIkLvGY8Vx8cH8Gc_vq4dF7PIXIgK87EgGqFW-ZBhghL1kqG2f68IRHVOVJZHKcxG1LDLu1_K1nGMg6179VYrhY7kiXDmPxifg5ua1412Alcc/s1600/goat+rescue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYMeLhxEou_u9r5vjLzpdqf0f3RCmk_UqIkLvGY8Vx8cH8Gc_vq4dF7PIXIgK87EgGqFW-ZBhghL1kqG2f68IRHVOVJZHKcxG1LDLu1_K1nGMg6179VYrhY7kiXDmPxifg5ua1412Alcc/s400/goat+rescue.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Goat Rescue Crew in front of the culprit latrine </td></tr>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-46554814816040971062013-01-25T10:36:00.001-08:002013-01-25T10:36:16.264-08:00A weekend in the mountains!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEK3Fz1Z1NJ1sxH2qP1C3V21PiwWDg4n5Kv2IVM7WaglANm_j3qpew-TCAy2u-tZmRF6IYa8eg-n8IIkNrNX65KPtAnaapVsVISiJX2BKEZ4s58HT9w6rOCx036LzguQtEhrl8oGDqxRx_/s1600/CORN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEK3Fz1Z1NJ1sxH2qP1C3V21PiwWDg4n5Kv2IVM7WaglANm_j3qpew-TCAy2u-tZmRF6IYa8eg-n8IIkNrNX65KPtAnaapVsVISiJX2BKEZ4s58HT9w6rOCx036LzguQtEhrl8oGDqxRx_/s1600/CORN.jpg" width="300" /></a><br />
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</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I have been super busy this week!
Aside from my usual hours of sitting in the shade trying not to get heat stroke
and pondering life, this week I also went on an a rejuvenating adventure to the
town of Zóbuè, finally started teaching, and discovered a new soy product from
Malawi that kind of tastes like chicken and doesn't have to be refrigerated! I’ll
start with the Zóbuè adventure. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Aside from Helen, who lives half an
hour (in a car) northeast of me, my nearest volunteer neighbors are about 4-6
hours away (depending on transportation) on the border with Malawi. I spent
last weekend exploring their beautiful mountainous site. As the <i>chapa</i> (public transport mini-bus) began
the climb into the mountains marking the Mozambique-Malawi border, the scorched,
dry plains began to transform. Lush greenery, fields of towering corn, and even
some fog increased exponentially as we climbed, and looking out over the mountainous
landscape, I felt at home. Aside from my
6 months studying abroad in Ireland, I have always lived in the mountains, or
at least in sight of them, so there was something incredibly comforting about
once again finding myself on high ground. When we arrived in Zóbuè, we were met by our
wonderful hosts and wandered through winding, bustling trails to their home. We
had brought some cheese from the city, and since our hosts have an oven, we had
a delicious pizza lunch! When Peace Corps volunteers get together, especially
in houses that have ovens or refrigerators, delicious meals are usually
concocted, and this weekend was no exception. With the luxuries of a refrigerator,
an oven, and most importantly abounding fresh produce our culinary possibilities
were infinite! So the first day we had pizza for lunch and decided on a Mexican
picnic/ mini-hike for dinner. We spent the rest of the day exploring Zóbuè. <span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">We
visited the school, some neighbors, and a very impressive market, fully stocked
with everything from clothing, shoes, and dry goods to fresh-baked bread and
heaps of veggies. It was in the market that I found </span><i style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Soya.</i><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> This chicken-like soy product is made in Malawi, and not only
is it a super affordable protein source (about 25 cents a packet which makes
three meals), but unlike real chicken, it doesn't have to be refrigerated! Beans have been my primary source of protein
these last months, and although I really like beans and have created tons of
delicious bean dishes, I was super excited to diversify my protein intake! I bought
5 packages and hoped they would taste good (turns out they are pretty good!
Like I said, tastes kinda like chicken). As we continued our walk around town,
we encountered lots of friendly neighborhood children, endless fields of corn,
and even a chameleon!</span><br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
That evening, we climbed a nearby
ridge, quesadillas, fresh salsa, and guacamole in hand, and had a magical Mexican
picnic dinner as we watched the sun sink behind the surrounding peaks. I could
not have been happier. I mean mountains and Mexican food…what more could I ask
for? We had attracted a crowd of on-looking children who found everything about
the situation strange. Why were the foreigners climbing up the mountain to eat
their dinner? What were they eating? What were they saying to each other in
their strange language? They inched
closer and closer, until we returned down the mountain in the twilight. After
sitting around and chatting, it was off to bed, and I slept incredibly well
since for the first time in months, I actually felt a tad bit chilly!<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFAdwlU_cVUmScdAvFdqDZsZBpbm4nQISN5g9Xp71QFHxAunpNy6soFCJeCv1v2iPCV1QCGU881jHnEjopr5mTG3_430-hOuSgHlUz9h7p_oO2M-v1zcYrEvJZjzYv3JATarFzgN6kj9fz/s1600/THE+START.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFAdwlU_cVUmScdAvFdqDZsZBpbm4nQISN5g9Xp71QFHxAunpNy6soFCJeCv1v2iPCV1QCGU881jHnEjopr5mTG3_430-hOuSgHlUz9h7p_oO2M-v1zcYrEvJZjzYv3JATarFzgN6kj9fz/s400/THE+START.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The start of the hike</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The next morning, we were up bright
and early for our hike up Mt. Zóbuè. We set off in the early morning light, and
wandered through the towering corn fields of the valley before beginning out
assent. We encountered several homesteads and friendly people along the way. As
we began the steep climb, we discovered that what our hosts explained was
usually a clear, fairly simple to follow path, was now an overgrown jungle due
to the recent rains. So we began to make our way up the mountain, sending the
dog ahead to check for snakes and slowly but surely, we made our way up the
steep slope. The scenery was spectacular. We found ourselves climbing through
lush greenery, rocky slopes, and eventually even a forested area. Being in the
trees, looking out over the sprawling green valley below was truly rejuvenating.
Even the oversized stinging nettles were a welcome change and reminded me of
home. After a dirty, hard climb we scrambled up a rocky crevice, through a
sun-filled clearing, and on to the mountain top. We made it! As we crested the peak, we looked
out over the seemingly endless mountain ranges and valleys of Mozambique and
Malawi, and sat next to a cement pillar marking the Malawian border to rest and
hydrate. After enjoying the beautiful scenery and some cookies, we took photos
and got ready to head back down. We arrived back home tired, sweaty, hungry,
and dirty, but content. It was an excellent adventure and we made it through
snake-bite free and with some great photos! After some much needed showers, we
headed to a nearby restaurant for grilled chicken and cold beers-a perfect way
to end the hike. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrIt8NLy3EqPsppAoqCUFd1CCCEvSQKe-ejalLuW9S_yvaeZ1Kh-Ci01e2Ul7OIP4a2M0_JmPZO7E4yONJnQsdUIbF_wW2coHJEpS9riPfzTRdkbKU_fqw-D1ObiCv3CEZsTmN2FJZ1Cvt/s1600/FIELDS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrIt8NLy3EqPsppAoqCUFd1CCCEvSQKe-ejalLuW9S_yvaeZ1Kh-Ci01e2Ul7OIP4a2M0_JmPZO7E4yONJnQsdUIbF_wW2coHJEpS9riPfzTRdkbKU_fqw-D1ObiCv3CEZsTmN2FJZ1Cvt/s400/FIELDS.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking through fields to the base of the mountain </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9O6ltcNz9YAdFhSWTVDhrzZPzwpPDcN78i1AULJ3NnWjXK6iGcJm6O_XIAWCxfKb7MGZmvMsx5W2_0dVQE76umgvhYTo71B97FZBUuDD69e9rTh_4NfEXjQ06fdIYxP9GeJRWv11U5tos/s1600/ON+THE+MOUTAIN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9O6ltcNz9YAdFhSWTVDhrzZPzwpPDcN78i1AULJ3NnWjXK6iGcJm6O_XIAWCxfKb7MGZmvMsx5W2_0dVQE76umgvhYTo71B97FZBUuDD69e9rTh_4NfEXjQ06fdIYxP9GeJRWv11U5tos/s400/ON+THE+MOUTAIN.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way up</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCTTOOGJi5ViZ8bmMi9wD5Q5MySQSSB6c-X3HVz7phrh8NRatXfRhEO3AKUFSrE0iNl9kbmw6Mivhb52DtF3qMo15RquNbZebv3ydi3zN9Qm5vcxQlfOZ1beshSnsbqAtR9znCSSvbkQY/s1600/GREENERY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCTTOOGJi5ViZ8bmMi9wD5Q5MySQSSB6c-X3HVz7phrh8NRatXfRhEO3AKUFSrE0iNl9kbmw6Mivhb52DtF3qMo15RquNbZebv3ydi3zN9Qm5vcxQlfOZ1beshSnsbqAtR9znCSSvbkQY/s400/GREENERY.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Helen and I making our way through the jungle!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiue9pE96N1thJQWQLu2807LA9mKoEKgL8PRvn7krwuUQ1kJxGGSvnXtBXNTQQUcBvE6RLbi0Lg4DmzTLkw4oDMZNIp4THGMQt0EYmqdRELaUwSejBEZDgZxCF98TFUAIRQrX8xSkyaw5pU/s1600/AT+THE+TOP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiue9pE96N1thJQWQLu2807LA9mKoEKgL8PRvn7krwuUQ1kJxGGSvnXtBXNTQQUcBvE6RLbi0Lg4DmzTLkw4oDMZNIp4THGMQt0EYmqdRELaUwSejBEZDgZxCF98TFUAIRQrX8xSkyaw5pU/s400/AT+THE+TOP.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the top! Looking out over Malawi </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
We
spent the rest of the day relaxing, visiting with neighbors, and of course
cooking. We made delicious curried pumpkin and naan for dinner, then spent the
evening watching movies. The next morning, Helen and I made our way back to our
sites, and I found myself once again confronted with the daunting heat of my
village. However, after the rejuvenating weekend adventure, I felt energized
and excited for the week ahead!<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Technically this week was the 2<sup>nd</sup>
week of school, but it wasn't until Wednesday that there were any students. I
did get to start teaching though which was great. I really missed it and had a
great time teaching introductions and greetings to my still super small
classes. I am going to have between 50-70 students in each of my classes, but
this week there were only about 15 in each. Some are still working in the
fields, taking advantage of the rains, some have malaria or cholera, and some
just haven’t decided to come back to school yet for whatever reason. However,
this is normal here, and other teachers told me not to expect full classes for
another two weeks. So this week was spent teaching whatever students showed up,
cleaning out the classrooms which for the last month have served as homes for
the wandering herds of goats, and getting to know my fellow teachers. The
classes that I did have went well, and the students who were there seemed excited
and ready to learn. The ability level in each class is very diverse, and after
giving a diagnostic test, I was surprised by the literacy levels of many of my
students. Although the majority of the secondary school students can understand
Portuguese and seemed to have a grasp on very basic English, there are others
who do not understand Portuguese and who are unable even to write their names. So,
I have spent this week revamping my curriculum and syllabus in an effort to accommodate
the many different levels of my students. I am the only female teacher who will
be teaching full-time at the secondary school level, however there are many
women teaching primary school l (my school is attended by students from 1st-10<sup>th</sup>
grade), and all and all I have wonderful colleagues. They have been very
helpful and kind, and I am grateful for their welcoming attitudes, friendship,
and explanations as I am learning the ins and outs of teaching in Mozambique. Now
hopefully next week, we will finally have full classrooms!<o:p></o:p><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Since I have Fridays off, I spent
today doing laundry and cleaning my house. Laundry in Mozambique is a process.
Today it involved getting up at 5am to get to the well before the morning rush
to pump water. I pumped my water and lugged the two heavy buckets back to my
house, amid impressed onlookers. My neighbors always ask me why I don’t just
tell a student to get me water, but I actually enjoy the task. Although
physically exhausting, I always enjoy chatting with the other women who are
waiting to fill their buckets, and upon reaching my house, my daily water
supply in hand, I always feel a sense of accomplishment. Laundry day involves a
few of these trips, then the hours of hand washing, before hanging my clothes
to dry on the line outside my house. Today was a great day to dry laundry. Not
only was it tremendously hot (105 degrees), but it was also very windy. It felt
like I was in a hairdryer, but it was great for my laundry, and everything
dried in less than an hour- even my jeans! So now, I’m off to take my evening
bucket bath- one of my favorite times of the day. I carry a bucket of water out
to the brick walls that act as my “shower.” The roofless structure allows me to
look out at the tree tops, sky, sunset, and even the early evening moon overhead
as I wash away the day’s stress, sweat and dust, returning to my house squeaky clean
(feeling clean is a luxury in the Peace
Corps) and refreshed. Tonight I will even get to put on freshly washed pajamas!
Better get out there before it gets dark! Thanks for reading! Sending you all lots of love from Mozambique! </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-mz27gefqAQD88IShmFphs6ErimqOoMGwFxr0XOeaVg_9NJSWzwAXzu8UCESqqpn0NkAAm1J4BUJWC3zhXPjbBxix5q2Tnpe1MoJlggNwsWqzgwcj3G_CBbXfWbTGguUIgcOyhtndTMtf/s1600/TOMATO+GIRL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-mz27gefqAQD88IShmFphs6ErimqOoMGwFxr0XOeaVg_9NJSWzwAXzu8UCESqqpn0NkAAm1J4BUJWC3zhXPjbBxix5q2Tnpe1MoJlggNwsWqzgwcj3G_CBbXfWbTGguUIgcOyhtndTMtf/s400/TOMATO+GIRL.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">A little girl in Zobue finds time to play in her basket while selling tomatoes. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-67216038265309891552013-01-16T09:28:00.000-08:002013-01-16T09:47:06.037-08:002013 So Far <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Happy New Year everybody! I hope
2013 is off to a great start for you all! Here in Mozambique, butterflies have
been emerging from their cocoons all over the place (seriously, there are
swarms of butterflies exploding out of every nook and cranny of my house),
monsoon rains have become a daily occurrence, and the seasonal bug infestation
seems to have transitioned from giant beetles to giant ants. In other news, the
first week of school is finally here! I found out yesterday that I will be
teaching all the 8<sup>th</sup> and 9<sup>th</sup> grade English classes at my
school, and should have around 550 students. I’m also going to be the
coordinator of the English department and the director of one of the 8<sup>th</sup>
grade classes, so I will be extremely busy this year! It should be quite a
challenge, but I’m excited to have so much to do, and am really looking forward
to meeting all my students! <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGEgmgvxQU9Ftn2GKISdSD002CgLOERf8QFFwgsgfdgpBrSNg_e8uBmifi1Ljy2ZYkSGjDCTWHbC03KQe6gwn6RHmP-1nOpOV8rdHFTuab8zd0NP9wOKJTNVi5mkN-9ghtWFLLgHddVvcs/s1600/My+school.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGEgmgvxQU9Ftn2GKISdSD002CgLOERf8QFFwgsgfdgpBrSNg_e8uBmifi1Ljy2ZYkSGjDCTWHbC03KQe6gwn6RHmP-1nOpOV8rdHFTuab8zd0NP9wOKJTNVi5mkN-9ghtWFLLgHddVvcs/s400/My+school.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The school and view from my front door...not a bad commute </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Here in Mozambique the school year starts
in December and yesterday we had the 2013 opening ceremony. It “started” at
7:30 (which is what time I got to school full of energy and in my nicest
professional attire), however, most of the other teachers and officials didn't show until around 10. I forgot to account for “Mozambican time.” So around
10:30, the ceremony began with the national anthem. Everyone was impressed that I already knew it, but not nearly as
impressed as when they asked me to plant a tree during the next phase of the
ceremony. The crowd looked on in wonder as
I expertly dug the hole, removed the sapling from its bag, placed it gently
into the hole, making sure to leave room for its roots, and replaced the soil
with my hands…all without dirtying my dress pants. Thank goodness for my northern Californian childhood and the extensive tree planting experience that entails. During the tree planting
ceremony, a first day of school tradition here, several trees were planted on
our school’s grounds. They are tokens of good luck, strength, peace, and of
course FUTURE SHADE for the upcoming school year and were planted by
representatives from the local government, the teachers, and the parents. I was
honored that they asked me to represent the teachers in the ceremony, and I
can’t wait for my tree to become a much needed oasis of shade for the
community. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzkVDA7iHBzDP2U0XDR8hOhQy3JMM7TNjgP6Mc5IS1McLnX5TkOuv_18S9gZXnr5c4j4Tl6vXPQ0Py9xORn6DoKpLzvsMOMmXwgeqwaE23kirgIU0uXTi-tHC292g9gEZ3RAjxFZK_A6nP/s1600/my+house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzkVDA7iHBzDP2U0XDR8hOhQy3JMM7TNjgP6Mc5IS1McLnX5TkOuv_18S9gZXnr5c4j4Tl6vXPQ0Py9xORn6DoKpLzvsMOMmXwgeqwaE23kirgIU0uXTi-tHC292g9gEZ3RAjxFZK_A6nP/s400/my+house.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My house! Check out all the new rain induced greenery! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The next stage of the day involved
opening remarks by several officials, a health officer, and the director of my
school. I was very impressed with the messages these speakers brought forth.
They spoke of the importance of addressing gender equality in education, of our
responsibility to respect linguistic and cultural diversity, of the need to
preserve national unity, of the need for health education and care, of the
teachers’ responsibility to improve the quality of instruction in Mozambique,
and of the district’s plans for the expansion of primary education into rural,
hard to reach locations. As a Peace Corps volunteer, these issues are at the
heart of my work and it was incredibly uplifting and encouraging to hear these
thoughts resonated by the administration. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlM-JYGcan3AxBiWbkKEid1hihIoOaQwtJ4c2nhJvwtXAYgebg54mTgBq-dN6jmypvLiLpBzlqqkcX2F818zOHJS-_n63GfxLOzg6-6cZhJqrK432ErpIqbAXph-12u_9ZyuvI3SY06fOE/s1600/sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlM-JYGcan3AxBiWbkKEid1hihIoOaQwtJ4c2nhJvwtXAYgebg54mTgBq-dN6jmypvLiLpBzlqqkcX2F818zOHJS-_n63GfxLOzg6-6cZhJqrK432ErpIqbAXph-12u_9ZyuvI3SY06fOE/s400/sunset.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a beautiful post-rain sunset from my backdoor</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The words of the health officer who
spoke were especially eye opening to me. As an education volunteer, I spend
most of my energy on school-based projects and teaching, but the words of this
inspired young doctor really opened my eyes to the need for health education in
my school and community and I hope to get a few health-based projects going
this year. As the torrential rains of
the monsoon season dump amid window rattling thunder, the dry scorched earth is
revived, greenery springs from the earth in the blink of an eye, and the
usually stupor inducing heat slightly decreases. Corn, beans, and manioc, the staples of the
Mozambican diet, are celebrated at the dampened earth allows for planting, and
the people are hopeful that the rains will continue and lead to a good harvest.
But there is another side to this would be joyous monsoon story. For along with
the life giving water, comes life taking disease. Along with the moisture and
“cooler” temperatures come swarms of malaria bearing mosquitoes In the past
week alone, five people I know have contracted malaria and the rainy season is
only beginning. Aside from malaria, the
daily downpours have resulted in flooded latrines, contaminated drinking water,
and cholera outbreaks. I feel truly grateful to have my Peace Corps issued
mosquito net, water filter, and medical kit, but it is breaking my heart to see
the way these diseases are ravaging the people of my village. Talking with the
doctor afterwards, I learned that a large portion of the daily health care
problems that the local clinic encounters are the result of lack of education
in terms of water and sanitation. I am hoping to work with the clinic to hold a
series of meetings and trainings and will definitely be integrating health topics
into my English curriculum. Although
things are rough, things are also improving. New health centers are being
opened, passionate young Mozambicans are awakened and inspired to help their nation
move forward, and education is being made a priority all over the country. I am
happy and honored to be able to make whatever small contributions I can to what
2013 holds for Mozambique. Much love to you all!!! …and remember, it makes my
day to hear from you, so please please let me know how you all are doing
wherever you are! <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-57205490172570781002012-12-28T10:06:00.003-08:002012-12-28T10:06:12.564-08:00The Christmas Adventure <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
MERRRRYYY belated CHRISTMAS from Mozambique! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I just got back from my Christmas
adventure to find the best Christmas present I could have asked for waiting for
me: RAIN!!!! I was a couple of miles
from my house, tightly packed into the bed of a pickup truck with about 20
other people, when the wind whipping through my hair suddenly got cool and the
sky darkened. The truck stopped in my
village, I handed the chickens that had been in my lap to their owner (her lap
had been occupied by her baby and toddler), and said goodbye to my new friends. Being squished into tiny spaces makes making
friends unavoidable on Mozambican public transport, and everyone on this ride
had been especially cheerful in anticipation of rain. As I jumped out of the truck with my backpack
and headed towards my house, a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky,
thunder rumbled in the distance, and huge raindrops began falling, quickly
escalating into a powerful monsoon miracle.
The scorched, dry earth welcomed the moisture and the temperature must
have immediately dropped 10 degrees. I’m guessing it was still at least 80, but
hey, after the last couple of weeks, that almost seemed chilly! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I spent Christmas with most of the
other volunteers from my training class who are stationed in the central region
of Mozambique. There were 16 of us who
all made adventurous efforts to be together for the holidays. Helen, the
closest volunteer to me, and I got on a big yellow school bus with the words
“All America” on the side (we were in fact the only Americans on board) at 4am
in our Provincial capital. As the sun rose, passengers were tightly packed into
the bus amid a festive holiday atmosphere.
Families clutched their children and possessions, Mozambican holiday party-goers
boarded in various states ranging from hungover to incredibly drunk, and
several passengers cracked open bottles of beer. We just smiled, negotiated
seats together, cozied up with our backpacks, and observed. After the few arguments over who was going to
sit where had subsided and the driver, who to our delight looked very sober,
awake, and friendly, arrived, we were on our way. It was 4:30 am, techno beats
were blaring entirely too loudly, and the Christmas adventure had begun…or so
we thought. About five miles outside the
city, we got a flat tire. We spent the next three hours waiting for the mechanics
at a truck stop and the driver to locate a tire big enough for the giant bus,
and as the sun rose, it became sweltering hot. Most passengers disembarked and
sat on old tires in the dusty shade of a tin structure. Helen and I tried to stay positive, and
napped while many of the other passengers speculated about how long the tire
change would take and of course drank beer.
Finally, at nearly 8am, we drove off into the exponentially increasing
heat of the day among clapping and celebration! The rest of the trip was
relatively uneventful, an 8 hour blur of naps, reggae music, and the occasional
stop where passengers separated by gender to opposite sides of the road to
relieve nature’s call.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Once in Chimoio, a city in the
neighboring Province of Manica, we caught up with the other volunteers over a
delicious lunch at a local restaurant specializing in brick-oven pizzas. It was
great to hear how everyone was doing at their new sites, figure out who had the
sketchiest latrine, and of course EAT PIZZA WITH REAL CHEESE…there was even
feta on one. Helen and I marveled over
the relative cool weather, lush vegetation, and heaps of beautiful fresh
produce of Chimoio, which is located in one of Mozambique’s most fertile areas.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Back at the beautiful house of our
host (she even has a shower!), we relaxed, planned our festivities and feasts,
and did some Christmas crafting as carols filled the house. Christmas Eve (which
also happened to be my very good friend and fellow volunteer, Alexandra’s,
birthday!) was a night of coconut curry, wine, Christmas movies (<i>Elf</i> never fails to lift the Christmas
spirit), and of course snuggling which becomes a necessity when there are 17
volunteers sleeping in the same house. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The next morning, we did not awake
to a white Christmas, but at least it was not beastly hot. A few of us spent
the morning decorating a small tree in the yard with the fruits of our
Christmas craft session and then it was on to the chicken slaughter. Our menu
included roasted chicken, so here that means it also included killing,
plucking, cleaning, and butchering the four chickens that we were going to
cook. I will never again take pre-dead poultry for granted. The feast took
nearly all day to prepare, as the majority of the cooking was done over
charcoal. We even managed to bake sugar
cookies, ginger bread, and a green mango crisp in a makeshift Dutch oven,
constructed from a few big pots and some sand, put atop the coals. The feast of grilled chicken, roasted chicken,
fried chicken, mashed potatoes, yams, salad, and green beans was accompanied by
mulled wine and cider, and turned out great! There was lots of merriment,
emotional calls from family at home, and wondering at the weirdness of being so
hot during a day which for most of us usually falls in the dead of winter. Although being home with friends, family, and
the winter temperatures of the northern hemisphere would have been ideal, we
did our best and all in all had ourselves a very merry little Christmas…and so
did the mosquitoes who feasted all through the night. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
As always, love to you all and
Happy Holidays! I apologize for any typos made in my rushed internet time, and I
don’t have a good enough connection to upload any photos with this post but
hopefully next time! Oh and lots of people have asked about my address, so here
it is:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Szasha Ozard <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="PT">Corpo Da Paz<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="PT">C.P. 331<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="PT">Chimoio, Mozambique<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-17363237789826594952012-12-16T04:13:00.000-08:002012-12-16T04:13:04.852-08:00Mozambique! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hello everybody,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sorry about the very, VERY long blog
hiatus, I know you were all on the edge of your seats the last 6 months
wondering what I was doing, so here it is in a nutshell. I’ll try my best to be
communicative, but I haven’t been speaking much English above an 8<sup>th</sup>
grade level for the past year, so bear with me.
I was part of the very last group of Peace Corps Volunteers in Cape
Verde. The program was “graduated” as a Peace Corps post and I was transferred
to Peace Corps Mozambique. I moved away from my loving community on my little
volcano in the Atlantic amid tears, pig blood, and hopefully realized plans to
return. The pig my neighbors had killed
the day I left was still being butchered amid a downpour of tears when the car
to take me to the airport showed up early. I left what had been a wonderful
home for the past year already missing my loving neighbors and friends. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
first of my post-Cape Verde adventures was a trip home to California. My
sisters helped me buy a ticket home and we decided to make it a surprise for
our parents. So while Mom and Dad thought I was thousands of miles across the
Atlantic, I showed up at the front door. The visit was rejuvenating, went way
to fast, and at the end of September, I departed for Peace Corps Round 2:
Mozambique. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the
past 2.5 months, I’ve been in Peace Corps Training take 2. Although some of the
sessions were redundant and at times starting all the way back at square one again
was discouraging, all in all training #2 went great. I learned Portuguese, made
some amazing friends, and became a sister and daughter to yet another wonderful
host family. Then, on December 4, I was sworn in as a Peace Corps Volunteer for
the second time around. After a beautiful ceremony and reception at the Ambassador’s
house, all 69 of the 19<sup>th</sup> group of Mozambique volunteers were sent
off to our sites.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So
that’s how I got where I am at this very moment, melting in the sweltering heat
of the African sun. I have been
assigned to teach English in a small, rural, very off-the-map community in the
Mozambican province of Tete. Jutting into the African continent and bordering
Malawi, Zimbabwe, and Zambia, Tete is the western most province in Mozambique
AKA the furthest away from any cool ocean breeze in the county. So, here I am living on the road to Zambia.
So far life has been a whirlwind of smiling new faces, dramatic lightning bolts
on the horizon, window-rattling thunder, and copious attempts to stay hydrated.
I wake at sunrise to sweep the constantly replenishing layer of dust, to carry
my water from the town well, and get some socializing with the neighbors in
before the sun makes anything but sitting in the shade impossible.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Despite the fact that some trainees
threatened to go home if they got sent to Tete, my host family made fun of how hot I was going to be, and how
actually hot and sweaty I am now that I’ve arrived, so far I love my new site. I
live in a cute cement house on the school grounds, surrounded by mud huts, LOTS
of goats, and the rolling planes of Africa. Although I am new, the people have
been nothing but open and welcoming. They have shown me where to pump my water,
invited me into their homes, and have already begun teaching me the local Bantu
dialect, as many people here do not speak the country’s official language, Portuguese.
So although I am melting in the delirium-inducing,
sandy, early afternoon heat, I am grateful to have been sent to such a
culturally rich, welcoming community, and I’m sure I’ll get used to the heat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8XInj6JaP1Ix4YRp68oAkTQ-6HYQ976TAfZ3L4V7lAx0wMhjTJUi9CPHYP9V1RMK2s-lOimTfBiXfHpkB7s1mguRMGDfypLJskDoANb0r_IwHiHesAEtQqfqKONMUa_ZVxxk-pk2zWRIb/s1600/backyard+daylight.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8XInj6JaP1Ix4YRp68oAkTQ-6HYQ976TAfZ3L4V7lAx0wMhjTJUi9CPHYP9V1RMK2s-lOimTfBiXfHpkB7s1mguRMGDfypLJskDoANb0r_IwHiHesAEtQqfqKONMUa_ZVxxk-pk2zWRIb/s200/backyard+daylight.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My back yard </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
So there you have it- what I’ve been up to.
I’m going to try my hardest to keep my blog updated, and since school isn’t starting until
January, I should have plenty of time to hide in the shade and write down my
thoughts, so stay tuned. I’ll be delving further into my life on the road to
Zambia, my adventures on the African continent, and my daily ups and downs as a
Peace Corps volunteer. As always, I love to hear from you so keep me updated on
your lives as well!! <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-51440126184937998182012-04-26T04:46:00.002-07:002012-04-27T01:15:39.050-07:00A Week In My Life: The Finale- SATURDAY!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hello! WOW, the week has flown by! I hope you have enjoyed
reading these posts and getting a week-long peak into my Peace Corps life in
Cape Verde. I have sure enjoyed writing them and receiving all your kind words,
love, and support. Please keep me updated on your lives as well! Any news about
what you all are up to on the home front always makes my day! SO here’s how SATUDAY
of A Week in My Life went: <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzIb0S8E9PUhgJFR3ys0Mz9h0GbAgTXhslCKvf77JngYxPYaCW7v7UzuDXk8OAHcxPZvwAVBxybOnWddoXAUCPOxm0kMqL7YVvIjzHwFccLIkOVaBpx_JipDeDEdSjV2_Z2Xw-5ZoeVpPD/s1600/the+start+of+the+hike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzIb0S8E9PUhgJFR3ys0Mz9h0GbAgTXhslCKvf77JngYxPYaCW7v7UzuDXk8OAHcxPZvwAVBxybOnWddoXAUCPOxm0kMqL7YVvIjzHwFccLIkOVaBpx_JipDeDEdSjV2_Z2Xw-5ZoeVpPD/s400/the+start+of+the+hike.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The start of the hike </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6am- I wake up early to make food for a hike some kids are
taking me on today. We are going to climb a little mountain , <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">laaa bashu</i> (below my house), and it
really isn’t far, but we are making an adventure out of the day and bringing a
breakfast picnic. I make a batch of banana pancakes, wrap them up, and toss
them in a bag with the biscuits I made yesterday, a few papayas, and a bottle
of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sumu </i>(juice). I am ready just in time, and am just lacing
up my shoes when the neighbor kids come by ready to go. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3XNwJavKXXvI2pwMnQ00NzifeaXrpjmNIt2Ow7hs1T5blvTbztvZyQ6L0Utn1YHI8d4tjWOPO71VDu_Lp5Wn3KzITh7PQMhG9yaqQAS7JM6kwNZX0wR_RxtexHCrbttM3W-daxA-9X63E/s1600/sliding!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3XNwJavKXXvI2pwMnQ00NzifeaXrpjmNIt2Ow7hs1T5blvTbztvZyQ6L0Utn1YHI8d4tjWOPO71VDu_Lp5Wn3KzITh7PQMhG9yaqQAS7JM6kwNZX0wR_RxtexHCrbttM3W-daxA-9X63E/s400/sliding!.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The slide!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
8 a.m.- We leave my house, stopping along the way to chat
with people we meet in the path and at people’s houses to say hello. The last
time, I was on this path was during the rainy season, and the contrast is vast.
Where there was once endless fields of interwoven bean bushes, weeds, and
flowers, there is now only scorched earth, dried grass, and the occasional tree
or karapati plant. As we drop down into the rock-filled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ribeira </i>(canyon), the kids get excited and explain that they are
going to show me something really awesome. Soon, we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">txiga</i> on what is essentially a natural slide. The water which flows
forcefully through the canyon during the rains had formed a smooth, well
sculpted slide into the rock, and the kids rush to play on it. I test it out as
well, and sure enough, the water has formed a slide that could rival that of
most playgrounds in America, and as we walk in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">rebaira, </i>we find several more of these natural play structures
along the way. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
9:30- 11 After playing in the r<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ebaira</i>, stopping at several houses, picking tamarinds, and lots of
walking and laughing, we arrive at the base of the hill and the kids race to
the top. The view from the top is amazing and we look out at the path we have
taken, the surrounding zones, and the ocean.
The kids point out different zones to me and excitedly talk over each
other to point-out different houses, churches, gardens, and roads. At the top
of the mountain, we find some shade, and sit down to have breakfast. The banana
pancakes are a hit, and the group is in high spirits as we eat, rest, and
laugh. Then they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">juga pedras</i> (play
rocks), a game which seems to be kind of like jacks, but with only rocks. I am
constantly amazed with Cape Verdean children’s ingenuity when it comes to
creating their toys. After a while we
get up, have a fun photo-shoot on top of the mountain, and start to head home. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUb4HpHbgnu-8MLzimXb_iLPtxmu6Ef1nvB4QjxOYx6hdEii0OgMvQvy7srVOI48noYdnaYD76SjCW3Z25AcleqWJuzPQ2l9Q4_0Tdas-igadHs-YVO155QM5dcqaQYC7fBmPWxk0Qottm/s1600/racing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUb4HpHbgnu-8MLzimXb_iLPtxmu6Ef1nvB4QjxOYx6hdEii0OgMvQvy7srVOI48noYdnaYD76SjCW3Z25AcleqWJuzPQ2l9Q4_0Tdas-igadHs-YVO155QM5dcqaQYC7fBmPWxk0Qottm/s400/racing.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running to the top!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHpUCp4jImFwPV6blLo1OAFd1dtbeX63BnY-JXAupgwWXCq7JE1XX9I8iMoWoiylqZ79942RV0mOUvc1Pr8WvI6boC3f3fmu9aRRXDNM5AzjjF-PE6uxI96qnGH_ADH-x9nq1zgzlG858Y/s1600/playing+rocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHpUCp4jImFwPV6blLo1OAFd1dtbeX63BnY-JXAupgwWXCq7JE1XX9I8iMoWoiylqZ79942RV0mOUvc1Pr8WvI6boC3f3fmu9aRRXDNM5AzjjF-PE6uxI96qnGH_ADH-x9nq1zgzlG858Y/s400/playing+rocks.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eating banana pancakes and playing games at the top! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
11-12:30 The journey home is a hot, yet hilarious time.
Along the way, the kids ask me if my camera can make movies, and since it can,
they excitedly ask me to film them. Without any directing on my part, they come
up with the idea to showcase some of the plants and foods we pass, and make up
little songs and dances to end the clips. As we continue on our way, the kids
sing songs and joke around. When I show
the kids the movies they have just created, they can’t stop laughing, and we
hurry home to show their parents and the neighbors. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
12:30- We arrive at my house and immediately show or
neighbor the videos and the kids excitedly tell them about the hike, the
picnic, and everything we saw along the way. As I show the neighborhood women
the clips, the room explodes in laughter and the kids are very proud of their
newfound stardom. Then, they all come
over for some cold water and cookies before going their separate ways. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1p.m.-3 p.m. I wash my sheets and sleeping bag. Although I
have gotten used to and much better at at washing my clothes by hand with the
washboard, whenever I have to wash sheets, I inevitably have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sodadi </i> for a washing machine. Sheets and down
sleeping bags get very heavy and overwhelming on a washboard, but I’m improving
every time! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3-5 p.m. I head across the street to hang out with my
neighbor and play with the baby. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
5 p.m.-6pm - I use my laundry water to water my plants,
sweep the patio, and talk to the neighborhood kids as they pass on their way to
their church youth group meeting.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6 p.m. I head up to the roof to collect my freshly laundered
and sun-dried sheets, mattress cover, and sleeping bag. There is really nothing
like fresh, clean sheets, and as I make my bed, I can’t wait to go to sleep
tonight!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzFtU0aTxXSLSBTHnBx2mSMVBJ0B-oNSC33iuxMmAzmFCR-Gz4xCkWaOr3VkfZlE1kYRq_fwVSuXKSF7_-2-A0ai_aKaPocChyqJcP47FCjAGpo7WWggmlCxEoLetsYBCkdP4bAuXaeIzt/s1600/113+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzFtU0aTxXSLSBTHnBx2mSMVBJ0B-oNSC33iuxMmAzmFCR-Gz4xCkWaOr3VkfZlE1kYRq_fwVSuXKSF7_-2-A0ai_aKaPocChyqJcP47FCjAGpo7WWggmlCxEoLetsYBCkdP4bAuXaeIzt/s400/113+(2).jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My gross ringworm </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7 p.m.- 7:30 I go back up to the roof to check out the
sunset and relax. Today it is a bit hazy and clouds cover the neighboring
island but the view is non-the-less spectacular, and as the sun sets on what was
a very fun day, I am excited to feel a cool breeze blow in. Then I go down stairs to put more cream on my arm fungus. Oh and for all of you who were curious about the rash, it is almost gone. It turned out to be ring-worm, a highly contagious skin fungus. A bunch of kids in my community had the same thing, so I probably caught it from one of them, but apparently it is also common for cats to have, so I’ve been trying to stay away from cute little street kitties. After I got some strong anti-fungus and hydrocortisone cream, it started clearing up immediately, but it was pretty gross there for a while.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
8 pm. Dinner time! Tonight is leftovers from yesterday, a
sliced tomato, and an egg. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
9-10 p.m.- I head across the street to watch TV and visit
with the neighbors. They are still laughing about the kids’ videos and as we
chat about the day, my neighbor and good friend sighs and says “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pasensea, todu algien ta teni sodadi di bo
quando bu bai bu camino</i>”(what a pity, everyone will miss you when you go on
your path/ go on your way), and I reply, that I too will <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fika ku sodadi</i>, as I have come to truly love the community I am a
part of. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">10 pm. - Bed time! I take a quick bucket bath, brush my teeth, put on the cleanest pajamas I can find, and hop into my freshly washed sheets! For some reason, I am much more appreciative of their cleanliness since I spent two sweaty hours getting them that way. Every night, no matter how hot, I sleep under the quilt that my family made for me before I left. Each square was made by friends of family, and no matter how good or bad my day is, when I go to sleep under that quilt, I can't help but think of you guys, how much you mean to me, and all the fun adventures we have had together. It never fails to cheer me up! So thanks so much to all of you who made a square- Mommy, Gwyndolyn, Nochella, Karen, Whitney, Katie, Lindsay, Josh, Jenna, and Karen! I love you guys so much and I think of you all the time! </span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsci6Sn2PPr8darYvaBrubyB_k9Jhqn4vHW42lUSFzrNfN5hjFx5gkx7m4912J8qr_LrAfnuJJrAssF3DI0pPdTfCCV2gO0b8Y9axKqta9kLIdzLkUxjKCurVMGvD7F7OwP9b4Jc8DMhkA/s1600/bed+time%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsci6Sn2PPr8darYvaBrubyB_k9Jhqn4vHW42lUSFzrNfN5hjFx5gkx7m4912J8qr_LrAfnuJJrAssF3DI0pPdTfCCV2gO0b8Y9axKqta9kLIdzLkUxjKCurVMGvD7F7OwP9b4Jc8DMhkA/s400/bed+time%2521.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My beautiful quilt!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thanks for reading! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Szasha <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-90750705060603794312012-04-24T09:46:00.000-07:002012-04-24T09:46:38.260-07:00A Week in My Life- Friday!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hello, The week has been flying by! Here’s
what happened on FRIDAY!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And sorry the
delay, the electricity seems to be out every time I go to use the internet!</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">6:45-The plan was to sleep in today, but
with all the morning <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">movmento, </i>6:45<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>is pretty much the limit of “sleeping
in.” I only teach primary school in the afternoon on Fridays, so I have
mornings free. I usually get up early and go with one of my friends to work in
their fields, picking beans, weeding, carrying water, cutting hay, or helping
with whatever they are doing that day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today, I stay home from the fields because I
need to go to school and make an announcement for my 8<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> graders. </span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyb4hs0yJC4mctGFJcvSw1vVMNgMhABSuBmRaAgGVusmaWus7dPF0vWhPzV580QtzHhCFiScIgmUOM4qGusEbZrPfilduyzX8PzKYYTcvLpy3wMJtharX-FcAsPB5b2v6JmCMzf-n4ARlV/s1600/Friday_8th+graders.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyb4hs0yJC4mctGFJcvSw1vVMNgMhABSuBmRaAgGVusmaWus7dPF0vWhPzV580QtzHhCFiScIgmUOM4qGusEbZrPfilduyzX8PzKYYTcvLpy3wMJtharX-FcAsPB5b2v6JmCMzf-n4ARlV/s400/Friday_8th+graders.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of my 8th graders being silly</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">8 a.m.- 11:30 I head to school to talk to
my eight graders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remind them to study
for their standardized test (the PGI) during break and I bring a list of all
the topics we covered this year to guide their studies. I hangout at school
waiting until my students have a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">falga </i>(free
period), then give them a quick review session, give them the list of material,
and go over some of the study skills we have been working on- flash cards,
practicing writing compositions, or having a friend or family member quiz
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now that I have seen the test
material, I know that it will be very difficult for many of my students, so I a
try my best to convince them to spend a little time each day during their break
studying…hopefully they will take my advice!</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">12 pm- 2p.m. I get back to my house, and
stop in to greet the neighbors. I sit with my friend and her baby and chat
about the day so far. She makes me some<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cous-cous (</i>kind of like steamed
corn-bread, not anything like what we call cous-cous at home) with milk and we
talk about my ADORABLE baby friend. He is getting big so fast and is one of the
cutest, most happy babies I have ever met. He barely ever cries, is super
curious, and loves to play, so needless to say we get along great! As his
mother and I sit and talk, we sort a pile of beans. We pick out only the white
fava beans, to be used in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">katxupa </i>which
is boiling away over a fire beside us, then we pick out rocks, beans which have
been half eaten by bugs, and leave the rest to be sorted another time.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKsBj28q2gYk8fW89D2kmVOfJpNYBLUq99m6iHFCA6Fh0RYd2QoAyIiJXzBEIEmYz5nTb2Tw8bolHxrRt2Y1ShMXAuez5zeaUl4xifM1qcPUp-AAiL7fDVtzrt6_vUTJ8Q1gqx6J4qVvZ-/s1600/Friday_cous+cous+ku+leti+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKsBj28q2gYk8fW89D2kmVOfJpNYBLUq99m6iHFCA6Fh0RYd2QoAyIiJXzBEIEmYz5nTb2Tw8bolHxrRt2Y1ShMXAuez5zeaUl4xifM1qcPUp-AAiL7fDVtzrt6_vUTJ8Q1gqx6J4qVvZ-/s400/Friday_cous+cous+ku+leti+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>cous-cous ku leti</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgG69VPj9cWZvTb6wM76rRolj_PRvZRQ4RMcDHWjhj1zIDxNp1j1Ip5tLXUfp9Ml01VtS3XAotqeTNVQOrVHO-lX7wa7kQCa2XB3P8mMSDrp9-kMDXcD02f4_7i-7lwqc8C3CsugjYcrMl/s1600/me+and+jo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgG69VPj9cWZvTb6wM76rRolj_PRvZRQ4RMcDHWjhj1zIDxNp1j1Ip5tLXUfp9Ml01VtS3XAotqeTNVQOrVHO-lX7wa7kQCa2XB3P8mMSDrp9-kMDXcD02f4_7i-7lwqc8C3CsugjYcrMl/s400/me+and+jo.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My best baby friend and I!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2 p.m.-5p.m. – I go back across the street
to my house and start to get ready to go to school before I remember<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that the primary school has already begun
their break. Usually, I would hike up the hill to teach 6<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> grade
English from 3-5pm on Fridays, but today I spend some quality time
deep-cleaning my house instead. I scrub surfaces with bleach, clean the bathroom
until is sparkles, and sweep and mop my floors. Excessively cleaning at least once
a week is pretty essential to keep the cockroach population out of my house. If
things are dirty, GIANT cockroaches find their way to the mess, so I try to
keeps things sparkling clean. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">5p.m.- 6:30p.m. I bake some biscuits to
take along on a hike some kids and I are going on tomorrow, wash my dishes, and
sit back to enjoy my newly cleaned house. I definitely do not live in the
typical mud hut I had envisioned myself inhabiting during my Peace Corps
service, and although I was at first frustrated by the lack of a challenge in
my living situation, I have come to really appreciate how lucky I am to live in
what I refer to as “The Pink Princess Palace.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I live in the top portion of a giant, newly painted pink, house at the
top of a hill. I have beautifully tiled floors, a flushing toilet, a
refrigerator, a giant window overlooking the ocean and neighboring island of
Brava in my kitchen, a shaded patio full of gorgeous plants, and access to my
roof which looks out upon some truly remarkable scenery and sunsets. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So although I have encountered and continue to
overcome many challenges in my Peace Corps service, a difficult living
situation is by no means one of those challenges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDFThaCERcsJSWgBZnahr2HYH-nXW_GHJiRI1hYsy5k68d6ky67fDE_9GtPtd62bvHK51gvWGg1Ax4VXt3XxpgslzhbP4omt9feCStEF35u3nK0nIP2ZWaWIiPCd23v-a4X3XnMm0OL74H/s1600/Friday_biscuits+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDFThaCERcsJSWgBZnahr2HYH-nXW_GHJiRI1hYsy5k68d6ky67fDE_9GtPtd62bvHK51gvWGg1Ax4VXt3XxpgslzhbP4omt9feCStEF35u3nK0nIP2ZWaWIiPCd23v-a4X3XnMm0OL74H/s400/Friday_biscuits+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Biscuits!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span lang="EN-US">7p.m-8 p.m. I make dinner, a dish that my
host mother during training on the island of Santiago taught me how to make.
First I sauté onions, garlic, tomatoes, kale, and left over beans in a pot with
some spices. Then I fill the pot with water, bring it to a boil, and add
coarsely ground corn flour, stirring until the mixture takes on a thick
porridge consistency.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is delicious
and reminds me of the two months I spent with an amazing host family during my
Peace Corps training. I send my host mother a text about what I made for dinner
adding that I miss her lots, and quickly receive a reply “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oi filha, teni txeu, txeu sodadi di bo. </i></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: PT;">Sa ta spera bo sta dretu! N Kre odja
bo antis di bu bai! </span><span lang="EN-US">Quando bo ta ben Gil Bispo</span></i><span lang="EN-US">? Love!” (hi daughter, I miss you very very much. I hope you are
well. I want to see you before you leave. When are you going to come to Gil
Bispo?). I really want to see my host family again before heading to Mozambique
and am hoping to find time to make the trip to the island of Santiago during
the summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">8:30- 10 p.m. I take my nightly bucket
bath, washing away the sweat and sunscreen of the day, then sit down to write
my blog entry and type up some responses to e-mails to send next time I get to
the internet.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">10:30 – bed time since I will be up bright
and early tomorrow to go hiking! </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thank for reading, and since I know a lot
of you have been wondering, my rash turned out to be a fungus.</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
I have been putting medicated cream on it, and it is getting better! Do to popular
demand, I’ll be posting a before and after pic in my next entry!</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Love,</span></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Szasha </span></span></div>
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<span id="goog_374273962"></span><span id="goog_374273963"></span></div>Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-72701471167417264912012-04-20T05:06:00.004-07:002012-04-20T05:12:07.277-07:00Thursday of A Week in My Life!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hello all, here is what happened in my life on Thursday! Enjoy! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6:00 a.m. The donkey alarm clock goes off earlier than
usual, so I too am up early. I take the time to do a bit of extra lesson
planning, get ready, and head off to school. Today it is chilly as I walk to
school wearing a sweater, a refreshing yet strange contrast to the blistering
heat of yesterday. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7:30 a.m.-10:10am- Every Thursday, I teach only three classes as I have an
English coordination meeting to attend in São Filipe, the island’s
capital. Energy levels are high as students are anxious to start their break,
but I manage to gain their focus and participation for the three morning
classes. Then after wishing them all a <i>bon
feria</i>, I leave for São Filipe. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
10:10-11:45p.m. The transportation from my zone to the
capital is in the form of mostly very old Toyota Hiaces which come and go on a
usually sporadic schedule. Car watching is a regular past time for many people
in my community. When cars pass, they will run to see which car it is, and do
to their vigilant observations of the road, they usually know exactly when cars
will be coming, something I still have not been able to master. The cars ordinarily
ALL go at the same times, and if you miss them, you are out of luck, and have
to walk or wait for a <i>bolea </i>(ride
from a passing car) which is a fairly common way to get around. Since everyone
knows everyone here, there isn’t really such thing as getting into a car with a
stranger, and <i>boleas </i>are almost a
standard form of transportation on the island. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
My meeting is not until the
afternoon, but I have a lot of errands to do in town today, so I go and wait
for a car in the road in front of my school right after class. I wait a few
minutes, chatting with my students who have a free period and then begin
walking towards São Filipe. I prefer to walk then to sit and wait for cars,
and while here I have truly come to appreciate the capabilities of our feet. I
am famous in my community for giving up on waiting for cars and just walking. Since I go to São Filipe every Thursday, I
always just begin <i>a pe</i> (on foot), and
sometimes a car catches up to me quickly, but sometimes, I manage to make the
whole beautiful, and luckily downhill, two hour walk without seeing a single
car on the road. Today, I walk about 45
minutes and enjoy the silence of the road. I stop to greet people when I pass a
house, but other than that it’s just me, the road, and the birds singing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
12 pm- We <i>txiga </i>in
<i>Bila </i>(what everyone calls the capital
town), and our car load of people disperse on their respective errands. My
first order of business is to go pay my electricity bill, so head to the small, tucked away office where I
wait in a hot, hot room with about 20 other Cape Verdeans waiting to do the
same thing. There is one attendant who sits at his desk, while everyone waits,
packed together in a quiet, sweaty group to pay their bill. There is no line,
you just have to know who was last when you arrived and remember to go after
them. When it is your turn, you go and sit in the chair with the attendant, he
tells you your balance, you pay, he prints a receipt, and you escape into the
hot, yet relatively refreshing air outside.
This process can take hours depending on how many people are there, but
today I am in and out in less than an hour! Sweet! <o:p></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-CM47J14V2I4_5x6clLBQlvlMnBfh7Ko9LawgEpvP8NXgqHwQKyU-yGacXdsj4ZkdT0hWNRK1Pw6sfWbqzB0pZkCGOCEDnVljqqBNdz1iuMPGCqSvoDjk_mZ7N0Z07sFCRQUcJUSetLex/s1600/20110101_03_05.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-CM47J14V2I4_5x6clLBQlvlMnBfh7Ko9LawgEpvP8NXgqHwQKyU-yGacXdsj4ZkdT0hWNRK1Pw6sfWbqzB0pZkCGOCEDnVljqqBNdz1iuMPGCqSvoDjk_mZ7N0Z07sFCRQUcJUSetLex/s400/20110101_03_05.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The outside of the market from the car as we leave town! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next, I
do my grocery shopping. There is not a market in the <i>fora </i>(rural area) where I live, so I do my grocery shopping once a
week when I come to town. First I head
to a <i>loja</i>(store) to buy flour, rice,
milk, dish soap, and a few things my neighbors have asked me to pick up while
in town. Then I head to the market for some veggies. The market is one of my
favorite places in <i>Bila</i>. Here,
vendors come from all over the island to sell their fresh produce, meat, and
cheese. The hustle and bustle is constant, and the vibrant colors of freshly picked
fruits and vegetables are remarkable. I like to wonder for a few minutes,
soaking in the sights and smells, and checking out what kind of produce is
available. Then I go towards my favorite vendor. She is a woman who lives in a
zone close to mine, and has been a friend of Peace Corps volunteers for
generations. Today she sees me coming
and bursts into a huge smile as I greet her saying, “<i>Bo tarde! Sodadi de bo, todu dretu?” </i>(Good afternoon, I have missed
you, everything good?). I buy a kilo of sweet potatoes, half a kilo of kale,
some carrots, some bell peppers, and some tomatoes. I stay to chat a bit,
talking about her family, her work, and how school is going for me, then I
pay. Unlike in many markets of the
world, there is no bartering over prices here. Things are a set price, which
everyone knows, and generally the price only varies a tiny bit from store to
store or vendor to vendor. She throws in
a few oranges for free as she gives me a hug before I am on my way. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKJCb6-t5NNAd8ucsPSjrzq4gx_lRqzxlJ6wSwbU2qzdsw5CaUKkpcz9a-Dk2ZGqiNOAn1n3BKw2L75QD_1Nnarp8ciq9MvbfqZrmNFSKZgxLLLQc8GNzzPVf740PdwOlkF4AauwGKBxRB/s1600/bila+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKJCb6-t5NNAd8ucsPSjrzq4gx_lRqzxlJ6wSwbU2qzdsw5CaUKkpcz9a-Dk2ZGqiNOAn1n3BKw2L75QD_1Nnarp8ciq9MvbfqZrmNFSKZgxLLLQc8GNzzPVf740PdwOlkF4AauwGKBxRB/s400/bila+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The streets of Sao Filipe</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 p.m. With an hour left before my meeting, I head to a good
friend’s house for lunch, as I do every Thursday. This woman and her husband are friends of my
landlord, and I met them when my landlord brought me to their house for lunch
for the first time. They are some of the kindest, most fun people I have met,
and I have been coming to their house for lunch on Thursday for months, with an
invitation to please come over whenever I am in town. Stepping into their house, is like stepping
off the baking hot streets of Cape Verde and into air-conditioned America (they don’t
actually have an air conditioner, but their
house is in the shade of a tree and has great ventilations, so it’s always very
cool inside). The kitchen is stalked with organic American cooking products
from places like Trader Joes, they have a microwave, a beautifully decorated
living room with couches and a TV, houseplants, and many other amenities which
could be found in any upper-middle class Massachusetts home. Like
many Cape Verdeans, they have family members living in the Boston area and even
lived there themselves for a few years.
Cape Verdeans were some of the earliest immigrants to the Unites States
as they worked on whaling ships from the New World even before the revolution
and the formation of our country. Ever since, there has been a strong Cape
Verdean community in Boston, and to this
day, nearly everyone from Fogo has a family member living there or has lived
there themselves. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
always enjoy sitting in the shade of their beautiful home and talking with them
about their week, my projects, and what is happening in the world. I usually
sit and watch the news with them (a welcome treat since I do not have a TV in
my house) and then we eat lunch over fun conversation. They are always very
appreciative of the work the Peace Corps is doing in Cape Verde, have been
friends with volunteers in the past, and are inspiringly supportive of the
projects I talk with them about. Today
we chat about an upcoming summer leadership camp for girls I am planning with
other volunteers on my island, and they both have some great ideas for sources
of funding and even offer to help recruit people for a career panel we are
planning, as they know nearly everyone in the capital. We eat a delicious (as usual) lunch of
grilled fish, rice, beans, and SALAD (a rare find in Cape Verde) complete with
organic BALSALMIC VINIGRETTE (an even
rarer find) and chat about their upcoming trip to Boston to visit their
children. Then, it’s time for my meeting and the brief trip to America is over.
I hug them good-bye, say my farewells, and head off to the high school as they
wave to me from their porch and remind me to come back next week. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHcUSyASv1L8RzZSceUrAwTjQV4BoAQ2m0lyqzIMhye9yPcSg_7YhzGh63acsD2Tf7HDzEXebDFYACAWVNqQOI2eJX5TR68Xl1TSVT8WOx9lX1Cx2LqplNZgk3buqggo9w26TiDm8XnnGo/s1600/bila.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHcUSyASv1L8RzZSceUrAwTjQV4BoAQ2m0lyqzIMhye9yPcSg_7YhzGh63acsD2Tf7HDzEXebDFYACAWVNqQOI2eJX5TR68Xl1TSVT8WOx9lX1Cx2LqplNZgk3buqggo9w26TiDm8XnnGo/s400/bila.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cobblestone streets of Fogo's capital </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2-3 pm I arrive at
the main high school and am the first one there. As I take my seat at our long
wooden table, other English teachers from São Filipe and from other rural
satellite schools like mine slowly trickle in, and we begin our coordination
meeting. We meet each week to discuss the week’s curriculum and share ideas on
how to teach the material, but today’s meeting is different as we will be
collaborating to write the English portion of the standardized test that all 8<sup>th</sup>
graders in our district must pass before moving to 9<sup>th</sup> grade. We discuss all the topics we have covered
this year and chose an hour and a half’s worth of subjects to put on the test.
Then we write the test topics on slips of paper and each teacher draws one
which they will be responsible for writing. I unfold my slip and read that I
will be responsible for creating the “future tense” portion of the test. After
discussing possible exercises for each section, the meeting comes to an end,
and we all go our separate ways. I hurry to the street above the market to look
for a car heading to my zone. Luckily, as I am walking a car heading to my
community passes me and recognizing me, stops to ask if I’m going home. I get
in, saving me a sunburn and a 10 minute walk to where the cars usually leave
from. The car quickly fills with passengers and we set off towards the <i>fora. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3:15-4pm The trip home takes a bit longer than usual since
we take several people who live off the main road to their houses. The car’s 11
seats are packed with 20 people and all their purchases from the day in town. I
have not only my groceries on my lap, but also a toddler and some of his
mother’s groceries as well. We stop along the way to pick up a few more people,
some piping for a man who is building a house, two sacks of rice, a baby
goat, and finally to tie a load of rebar
to the back of the car for the same man who is building a house. There is no
such thing as a car that is “too full” here in Cape Verde, and somehow
everything fits, although very, very tightly. We also stop at a local farm and
people get out to buy fresh cabbage before piling back in, having to rearrange
the puzzle pieces of people and cargo to make everything fit. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
4pm-6pm. I get to my house, put my groceries away, wash my
vegetables and head across the street to hang out with the neighbors. I play
with my baby friend who is obviously proud and amazed at his new found talent
of sitting up all by himself and have a great time relaxing with my neighbors
and all the kids who come to play. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBeJVXGjOKo4N1Ba1TZaSCISvV_eU-ZHx6pW5MW9nzrAHhAO9QPNfohTozXDBUe4zXcbhdRAMLO_09bAUFm6iYOB_MNlltGueodCiE_RypTFPtnXjgp-6vWTHhJaBaKLun2xlxGG12bSZ5/s1600/veggies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBeJVXGjOKo4N1Ba1TZaSCISvV_eU-ZHx6pW5MW9nzrAHhAO9QPNfohTozXDBUe4zXcbhdRAMLO_09bAUFm6iYOB_MNlltGueodCiE_RypTFPtnXjgp-6vWTHhJaBaKLun2xlxGG12bSZ5/s400/veggies.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rinsing my fresh veggies! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSqbOn71i9SkQy6ducZFkEYOHvKsE0oXaoAuO2gNsJElj5_TNAGPuk7GrGU0gEg4z52Hka3D_xZfXsG526FUexjlhRotB2i55pJMT_cvCneUV6Vo-SIq1-smKOcF-6DppvDETUbL5PQ8_0/s1600/team+Fogo+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSqbOn71i9SkQy6ducZFkEYOHvKsE0oXaoAuO2gNsJElj5_TNAGPuk7GrGU0gEg4z52Hka3D_xZfXsG526FUexjlhRotB2i55pJMT_cvCneUV6Vo-SIq1-smKOcF-6DppvDETUbL5PQ8_0/s400/team+Fogo+1.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Fogo crew! All 6 of the volunteers on<br />
our island during a beach day!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6 p.m. I spend an hour or so talking on the phone with a
fellow volunteer and very good friend about life. We chat and laugh about school, how crazy it
is that we will only be here for another 5 months, and make speculations about
what our lives in Mozambique will be like. We have a great group of volunteers
on Fogo, and it is always fun to catch up and hear about what’s happening in
other zones on the island!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7p.m. I pick ANOTHER ripe papaya from the roof and share it
with my 6<sup>th</sup> grade neighbor. The baby goat has “<i>sodadi di bo</i>,” (the baby goat misses you) she tells me and we laugh
as we cut open the bright yellow fruit. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
8p.m. Dinner time! Today I just heat up rice and beans from
yesterday, add put and egg on top for a quick, easy dinner. Then my neighbors
call me to come watch the news and <i>novella</i>
with them, so I head across the street to hear about what is happening in the
world and gossip as we watch the Brazilian soap opera.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
9pm- I get to use my land lord’s phone to call home! Dad
picks up and I get to hear all about how life is going back in California,
catch up on my life, and hear our family’s new dog barking through the phone
for the first time! It is so great to hear Dad’s voice and as I hang up and
head upstairs to my part of the house, I can’t help but be a bit homesick.
Although I have an amazing life here, it is hard to be so far from family for
so long, and I love you all so much! I
hope you are enjoying and appreciating the Humboldt County springtime, since I
would do just about anything for some cool, refreshing fog and some rain right
now! <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmcV0rl2BtW_sWz0zKbZ1RWwoA4M1RmETxUivmiqmeBQa6holnrIelR4vPW3RgBGNh0lKZ4mRHFPzXklFJ5r2DqolrCS66wYajmhGXlyAaxIXHutBp3ju2jveNT2EdUbP8OkY7r-66xkp/s1600/20110526_09+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmcV0rl2BtW_sWz0zKbZ1RWwoA4M1RmETxUivmiqmeBQa6holnrIelR4vPW3RgBGNh0lKZ4mRHFPzXklFJ5r2DqolrCS66wYajmhGXlyAaxIXHutBp3ju2jveNT2EdUbP8OkY7r-66xkp/s400/20110526_09+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>sodadi di</i> springtime in Humboldt County </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
10 p.m. I take a quick bucket bath, sit down to write my
blog post, then get ready for bed, tuck in my mosquito net as the mosquitos
seems to be multiplying exponentially lately, and go to sleep.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Again thanks for reading, and I really appreciate all the
comments and support you all have been sending! Oh and I forgot to take pictures while doing
errands in São Filipe today, so the few that are
here were snapped from the car window as we left town. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Szasha <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-43649206124599968592012-04-19T06:43:00.001-07:002012-04-19T06:43:44.946-07:00A Week in My Life- Wednesday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Welcome to Day 4 of a Week in My Life- Wednesday! I also put up a post about Tuesday today since there was no internet yesterday. Enjoy!</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjN2-Q0QgbDjgc-eBDjqK65eainVnos0L8Lup0fbheMMrfmCQ5jjsdU_wk50DEptP-llrcPXVyYJYKmFYhOXEksuW-sRs3Y5y5vs68Fs9HCnhYzCopJu_iRtwXUAKuYUMOvg6Lhxt64Bmd/s1600/front+of+school+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjN2-Q0QgbDjgc-eBDjqK65eainVnos0L8Lup0fbheMMrfmCQ5jjsdU_wk50DEptP-llrcPXVyYJYKmFYhOXEksuW-sRs3Y5y5vs68Fs9HCnhYzCopJu_iRtwXUAKuYUMOvg6Lhxt64Bmd/s400/front+of+school+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My school from the road</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6:30 a.m. I wake up and it is already super hot! I get ready,
make my <i>kamoka</i> breakfast and head off
to school, already sweaty. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkY9_1bY8xvss4bzBZEO2sAnEWQRFHAd13Fn2FeP9Hqd15O-1P3k2yrr6eESH_cVa_O0NNWB5qaMRI8OeDY3YqGGtVxB-n6fjnCbRIgWhoJRj5H1WJAVsSuDOvqJKt-DsJ2zb0ni1Vlt4J/s1600/my+school+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkY9_1bY8xvss4bzBZEO2sAnEWQRFHAd13Fn2FeP9Hqd15O-1P3k2yrr6eESH_cVa_O0NNWB5qaMRI8OeDY3YqGGtVxB-n6fjnCbRIgWhoJRj5H1WJAVsSuDOvqJKt-DsJ2zb0ni1Vlt4J/s400/my+school+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The courtyard and two of the classrooms at school. The artwork was a project of previous Peace Corps volunteers </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7:30am-1pm – School! Today is a great day at school. My kids
all listen relatively well, I finish all of my material before time runs out,
and I think almost everyone seemed to understand today’s lessons! SUCCESS! I
thought you might like a little run-down of my school responsibilities, so here
it goes. I teach English as a second language at a rural satalite school of the
main highschool in São Filipe, Fogo’s capital. My small, adorable school is
attended by only 7<sup>th</sup> and 8<sup>th</sup> graders (highschool begins
in 7<sup>th</sup> grade in Cape Verde), and after 8<sup>th</sup> grade,
students must travel to the island’s capital to complete their schooling (this
is sadly very expensive, so many students do not continue past 8<sup>th</sup>
grade, but that deserves a post all its own). There are 3 <i>turmas </i>(classes) of 7<sup>th</sup> graders, and two of 8<sup>th</sup>
graders who come from numerous surrounding zones. Some walk over an hour each
way to school, others live across the street, and still others live so far that
they must pay for a car to bring them from their zones-making each class a
diverse group of students with very different educational backgrounds. I am the
only English teacher at my school, and I work alongside five other Cape Verdean
teachers. Students at my school do not have English textbooks, a library, or
many other resources that students in America may take for granted. Therefore,
whatever I write on the board IS the textbook, adding a great deal of
responsibility to my lesson planning and delivery of the curriculum. I have to
get creative as far as material development since all that is available is a
blackboard and chalk. So far I have made grammar posters out of empty rice sacks,
used recycled cereal boxes to make BINGO cards with beans as the markers, and countless other teaching resources from
scratch. Our school is very lucky to
have internet (when it is working and there is electricity) as most people in
the area do not, but at the same time, we are in need of more desks, windows,
and lights in our classrooms (during the rainy season, the classrooms flood and it is too dark for the students to see the board, so we
have many a <i>chuva </i>day (rain day) when
school is canceled). I also teach two
classes of 6<sup>th</sup> graders (bringing my total number of students to
250) at a primary school up the hill
from my house two days a week. The primary school is quant and lively and
teaching this younger, eager to learn group is always a pleasure. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnSc4K2pHw4FinNvim3F30jBrNJ3jTIq9HjEyG5kmahKc_LP8ITY2zPZBGoCHyEdLzff7_eBnOTTwUIrKIVOx0HJlrLjI2YYvTAAG4tuRyH9NUC1Z3CdxUYCXJP6pfzaRs9vOCI8BmSfh/s1600/happy+students+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnSc4K2pHw4FinNvim3F30jBrNJ3jTIq9HjEyG5kmahKc_LP8ITY2zPZBGoCHyEdLzff7_eBnOTTwUIrKIVOx0HJlrLjI2YYvTAAG4tuRyH9NUC1Z3CdxUYCXJP6pfzaRs9vOCI8BmSfh/s400/happy+students+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Students at the end of the day! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 pm- walk home, stopping along the way to chat with people
on the road. It’s pretty common for it to take an hour to make the 15 minute
walk to my house when the road is busy. Stopping to talk to everyone is
expected and usually pretty fun. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPiO-GgXaezlllYQNz_COZAkWcN-KldMJnGqwnbGhQbKEaXRT2Pn6UGvrBslxPQk-hj03dIU_YHHV0_CRzRJztCBBgnxsNKXWoZVNeKiLnJL09JCEsccpnfCXdwusadhR5n4YMHI7BIooA/s1600/the+walk+to+the+goat+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPiO-GgXaezlllYQNz_COZAkWcN-KldMJnGqwnbGhQbKEaXRT2Pn6UGvrBslxPQk-hj03dIU_YHHV0_CRzRJztCBBgnxsNKXWoZVNeKiLnJL09JCEsccpnfCXdwusadhR5n4YMHI7BIooA/s400/the+walk+to+the+goat+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The goat adventure begins! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2pm-I <i>Txiga </i>at my
house, stop in to say hi to my neighbors, and head to my house to relax. Just
then, my neighbor friend (and one of my 6<sup>th</sup> grade students) calls me
from the street. She says she wants to show me her baby goat and to put shoes
on since it is far. I run inside, lather on a thick coat of sunscreen, put on
my shoes and meet her in the street. As we are about to leave, the lady who
sells bananas walks down our road, carrying a huge tub of bananas on her head
with ease. I quickly buy my fresh bananas, chat a bit, and then we leave on the
goat adventure. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLikSAKAvdBewQfG6Vgh4Tw-nzAWyt7P0aA03Tldfeyb10-VZ3oNzDdP2Fz3FuUHieHRqnpwIxcU3zLjpYuUzDpy_XD_Pps_4TTwXEs05u6IE7ReqK_IHQ-GhMHYITWEjMJYYJW69r8PDz/s1600/abandoned+house+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLikSAKAvdBewQfG6Vgh4Tw-nzAWyt7P0aA03Tldfeyb10-VZ3oNzDdP2Fz3FuUHieHRqnpwIxcU3zLjpYuUzDpy_XD_Pps_4TTwXEs05u6IE7ReqK_IHQ-GhMHYITWEjMJYYJW69r8PDz/s400/abandoned+house+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An abandoned stone house and animal pen along the way </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecNstvvMEEd-RMy0uy-FfXTLLyDKdQmD82gLVm5JCi85NOfxJKZ8b4neXiTdju7r4l1kKwLOnTQ1fr4LU4fZV4cSri_kIeEUATch3m7eTLpCL7zAx5kBtJtPUoor7y0M6gfObEc-xUhvL/s1600/mouricia+and+the+got+(blog)+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecNstvvMEEd-RMy0uy-FfXTLLyDKdQmD82gLVm5JCi85NOfxJKZ8b4neXiTdju7r4l1kKwLOnTQ1fr4LU4fZV4cSri_kIeEUATch3m7eTLpCL7zAx5kBtJtPUoor7y0M6gfObEc-xUhvL/s400/mouricia+and+the+got+(blog)+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My student, neighbor, and friend with her baby goat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2:30-5 We walk
on a path, through a canyon, and through countless now dried bean fields down
the mountain. We wonder through many abandoned homesteads of traditional Cape
Verdean houses built of stone (these houses all used to be inhabited, but now
many people chose to live closer to the road and electricity, leaving
abandoned, crumbling communities behind) . We stop to pick tamarinds along the
way and chat about school, how hot the sun is, and whatever we see along the
way. Finally, we <i>txiga</i> at a grove of
cashew trees, and there laying in what shade there is to be found is a tiny,
nearly new-born goat and its Mommy. The baby is excited to see us and prances
towards us. My friend is very proud of her new <i>cabrito (</i>baby goat) and poses for a picture with the little guy. We
have carried water down the hill for the animals, so we dump it into their dry
bucket, move them to a new tree, and rest while playing with the new addition
to the goat family. Then we begin the climb back up the mountain. On the way,
we stop at a fig tree and my friend shows me how to climb the tree to check if
the figs are ripe. None are ready, but she picks some of the green ones to feed to the pigs back home. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmGT04H9LpICyK6P5cLLhv-5AiQYx6Gvz0Sch2Ysr2Ivk1xWYA-A0tD5q3yn9BiLl4ZTeJdD_OPEtO4TodB4IgmOxJDwWVt2db78_y0m_wmBkYASfp4srWKseyAXiM8pnLng3ZsR3oX6ns/s1600/in+the+fig+tree+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmGT04H9LpICyK6P5cLLhv-5AiQYx6Gvz0Sch2Ysr2Ivk1xWYA-A0tD5q3yn9BiLl4ZTeJdD_OPEtO4TodB4IgmOxJDwWVt2db78_y0m_wmBkYASfp4srWKseyAXiM8pnLng3ZsR3oX6ns/s400/in+the+fig+tree+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the fig tree! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
5 p.m-6:30p.m. – When we get back to our houses (they are
right across the street), our other neighbor is sitting in front of her house
shelling beans and holding her laughing baby, so I sit down, play with my
favorite baby friend, and help shell her beans in the shade. When we finish,
she gives me a warm bowl of <i>doce de
papaya </i>she has just finished making, and tells me to come back when it’s
gone and she’ll give me more. As you might have realized by now, my neighbors
are also my best friends, they are like my family here, and they love to give
me food. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6:30-7:30- I take care of some stuff around the house. I
start dinner, put fresh water in my filter,and wash dishes using two large
bowls ( I don’t have a kitchen sink, and washing dishes in two bowls of water –
one for washing, one for rinsing saves tons of water). Then I water the plants
in my <i>kintal</i> with the same water. Many of
my patio plants have burst into bloom, and a particularly beautiful flower has
appeared today! As I head up to the roof to check out the sunset, I am excited
to see a ripe papaya in the tree-what a great surprise to end the day!!! <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPVOaJDmCIIA12PLWc5X3-FHrykNtA2u3BBUzA1MhvnWlfaSUX83gDizysk2CIOwEck6tbFkAoKBENJTVMH8BrMNMtEMnZNv38c58_VVcUeSiDeQChhqmKjDuTRm_v8dCLkP14gj7SCTDV/s1600/beautiful+flower+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPVOaJDmCIIA12PLWc5X3-FHrykNtA2u3BBUzA1MhvnWlfaSUX83gDizysk2CIOwEck6tbFkAoKBENJTVMH8BrMNMtEMnZNv38c58_VVcUeSiDeQChhqmKjDuTRm_v8dCLkP14gj7SCTDV/s400/beautiful+flower+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The newest bloom! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVdRWPUHUh3ZAT9ey7yspjs2GR611zHX4_dVaUlVXKWpBKwjpSk_3lJDDtndoKM76aX-vualpXQy-nJ7JVsdTZHARa4ps9SEBcz-rIYlgRlldbeXhb1NoXxj24ub0ruor221WAKT1ug5hb/s1600/picking+my+papaya+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVdRWPUHUh3ZAT9ey7yspjs2GR611zHX4_dVaUlVXKWpBKwjpSk_3lJDDtndoKM76aX-vualpXQy-nJ7JVsdTZHARa4ps9SEBcz-rIYlgRlldbeXhb1NoXxj24ub0ruor221WAKT1ug5hb/s400/picking+my+papaya+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picking the papaya! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7:30- 9 I eat dinner- rice, beans, and sweet potatoes, then
sit down to write my blog post, lesson plan, and prepare a presentation for a
meeting I have tomorrow. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
9pm- Bucket bath time! I actually really like bucket baths
and with the amount of water that they save, I may even continue the tradition
when I return to America. I am now a bucket bath master and can get squeaky
clean with less than a gallon of water. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnKeRDmLX1Vw2hTmlWPP6v99X9l0eE6ZtUWlAvo8l6F-Vxmj3ijAp4Ldu241AvEzA7rdqANfVZjHKoQ6nUz7ix7vB6syE6iUu7pTegBKGfApvvI0CHGK_mLGC-rflCB7OFAcn_9lv0TlCl/s1600/20110101_02_04.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnKeRDmLX1Vw2hTmlWPP6v99X9l0eE6ZtUWlAvo8l6F-Vxmj3ijAp4Ldu241AvEzA7rdqANfVZjHKoQ6nUz7ix7vB6syE6iUu7pTegBKGfApvvI0CHGK_mLGC-rflCB7OFAcn_9lv0TlCl/s400/20110101_02_04.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">candle light bucket bath! (no electricity) </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
10 p.m. I get all of my materials for school tomorrow
together and go to bed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hope you have been enjoying these posts!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Szasha <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-552475481762398222012-04-19T06:14:00.000-07:002012-04-19T06:14:11.347-07:00A Week in my Life- Tuesday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hello all! Sorry for the delay, but the electricity was out
yesterday, so I was not able to get online. So today, I'm posting Day 3 and 4. Here is Day 3 of a Week in My Life.
Welcome to my TUESDAY! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6:30: a.m.- If you have been reading then you know the drill
by now, 6:30 donkey alarm clock, get ready for school and head off to save the
world. Today the <i>Bruma seka</i> has dispersed
a bit and I can see the ocean as I walk to school for the first time in days!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitsit91LD6vE9I2S9Nuu0gTKdE_KAHhonJ17GufMaIo7js6Cuwm02Z04oAbCl8edczLYkNpZoepxG0PeHn5t6q3ECOQxt06I0wVmFgrtME_9QjpQ9Xs4wEPcPB8ELS6bbW8LFLHY6QEvjl/s1600/20110101_37+crop+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitsit91LD6vE9I2S9Nuu0gTKdE_KAHhonJ17GufMaIo7js6Cuwm02Z04oAbCl8edczLYkNpZoepxG0PeHn5t6q3ECOQxt06I0wVmFgrtME_9QjpQ9Xs4wEPcPB8ELS6bbW8LFLHY6QEvjl/s400/20110101_37+crop+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of my 7th graders</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7:30 am-1pm – Today is a busy day at school. I teach all of
my 7<sup>th</sup> and 8<sup>th</sup> grade English classes, and as usual the
day is full of highs and lows. The lows being the usual behavior problems bound
to happen when you pack 35, 45, or even 50 rambunctious, and often hungry,
teenagers into one classroom and expect them to sit and learn for six hours
straight (they only have 5 minute breaks between each 50 minute class). The
students don’t change classrooms for the entire 6 hours, and do to the use of
corporal punishment up until 6<sup>th</sup> grade, they have a hard time
listening to anyone without a stick. Also contributing to the madness that is 7<sup>th</sup>
and 8<sup>th</sup> grade today is the fact that this is the last week before a
two week <i>feria </i>(break) for <i>Festa S</i><i>ão
Filipe, </i>so as you can imagine, focus levels were not at their highest
today. The day was not lost however, and in perspective the majority of my
students behaved great! I taught food vocabulary and phrases using “how much”
to my 8<sup>th</sup> graders. Then, using paper food and money we set up a mock
market and students took turns selling and buying, using their new vocabulary. Seventh
graders learned frequency adverbs (always, usually, sometimes, rarely, never)
and modes of transportation. As students
wrote example sentences on the board, I looked up to see, “We usually go by car
to school and always love teacher Szasha.” A strange sentence yes, but I
appreciated the gesture, however genuine it was. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSPAdQdEQW0G7AEGVnngx-lC9n1DsDsUkeJkg76USheI74AvSf74prkzR9oIel-0Lqg3dKxEHhdcbxZHmSVPLlxq62gz03VHB69EkyFuhb_hQQPT6rtTKXkCYqon_pyD7ptSv_is3eBIX/s1600/tamarind+trees+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSPAdQdEQW0G7AEGVnngx-lC9n1DsDsUkeJkg76USheI74AvSf74prkzR9oIel-0Lqg3dKxEHhdcbxZHmSVPLlxq62gz03VHB69EkyFuhb_hQQPT6rtTKXkCYqon_pyD7ptSv_is3eBIX/s400/tamarind+trees+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tamarind trees on the walk home </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1pm- School’s out! I walk home with my students who are
going the same way and we run into some of my 6<sup>th</sup> grade students
under my favorite tamarind tree. As we all relish in the shade and pick the now
drying <i>tambarinas, I</i> find out that
the primary school, where I teach 6<sup>th</sup> grade English, has started
their break a week early. That means that I won’t be teaching again this
afternoon. Usually Tuesday is my longest day as I teach from 7:30 am-1pm and
then again from 4pm-6pm, but today I’m free for the afternoon!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibOqX43GYSAAEYMH1gj-Z2tG7ruDx1eDptTuiVWy9gjF4HXtSYfeAg_5qTGtDNSU88_Xow31cPAu_joHxKj8fBbuB6qk1F69RdGsz_o4by5IXhdlvnwwXmE_VpM3UecM3t52OdSgj_HFwX/s1600/picking+tambarinas+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibOqX43GYSAAEYMH1gj-Z2tG7ruDx1eDptTuiVWy9gjF4HXtSYfeAg_5qTGtDNSU88_Xow31cPAu_joHxKj8fBbuB6qk1F69RdGsz_o4by5IXhdlvnwwXmE_VpM3UecM3t52OdSgj_HFwX/s400/picking+tambarinas+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Freshly picked <i>Tambarinas!</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1:30p.m.- I <i>txiga </i>(arrive)
at my house and notice that my neighbor is wearing a fancy, black blouse, and I
immediately know that she is going to a funeral or to visit the family of
someone who has died. As we exchange greetings, she explains to me that a friend
of her family from a much greener zone farther up the mountain has passed away
today. It turns out that I also know the woman, as I had accompanied my
neighbor to her house several times. She was one of the kindest, friendliest,
and most adorable old women I have ever met, so I decide to go with my neighbor
to the <i>visita. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2pm-5pm – These three hours are spent at the <i>visita</i>. I will do my best to depict the
experience for you, but the raw emotion and sadness of the situation is truly
indescribable. After catching a ride in
a packed car and driving the 15 minutes or so up the winding mountain road, we
arrive at the house. The wails of sadness can be heard as we approach, and as
we enter the house, the sorrow is deafening.
Chairs line the wall of the tiny house, all of them full of sobbing mourners
who have come to pay their respects. Unlike the American tradition of “a moment
of silence”, Cape Verdeans mourn their dead in a highly vocal manner, through
sorrowful, haunting wailing. The wailing, a loud exasperated expression of
grief, is like a sad, sad, emotionally charged song expressing the mourner’s
misery, frustration, and respect for the dead. Its sound is unmistakable and
although full of misery and sadness, it is also beautiful.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
As I enter the house, hands reach out for me,
I am embraced in tear-filled hugs, and as I move around the room offering my
greeting and condolences to each mourner as is expected of me, I see one of my
students across the room. Her grandmother
died while she was at school today, and her face is tear-stained and
hysterical. I immediately go to her, holding her as she rocks back and forth
wailing “<i>Vovo, Vovo, Vovo” (</i>Grandmother,
Grandmother, Grandmother). As I stand up
to pay my respects to other mourners, she clings to me, so I stay- holding her
while she cries and feeling unstoppable tears stream down my face as well. At the far end of the packed, tear and sweat
filled house, two candles illuminate the women’s body, resting as if sleeping
in her bed. Her age-worn, wisdom-filled face is peaceful and it seems like she
may wake up at any moment. However, the never ceasing wailing, the wetness of
my student’s tears upon my shoulder, and the eeriness of the two flickering
candles remind me that, no, this kind women, a friend to so many in my
community has passed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
A constant stream of mourners find
their way to the house, as news of the woman’s death has spread quickly
throughout the island. The wailing, although never ceasing, continues in waves
of quieter sobbing and bursts of fresh mourning as new friends and family
members arrive. I am in awe at the sheer emotion present in the house and in
the forcefulness of the expression of sorrow and respect I am witnessing. Aside
from <i>visitas</i> which last for the week
of the death, a funeral service is also conducted and is repeated after one
month, after three months, after six months, and yet again after a full year
has passed. Furthermore, the family
members of the dead are expected to wear only black clothing for a designated
time depending on your relation to the deceased. Siblings or children of the
dead will wear only black for six months, and widows will never wear a piece of
colored clothing again. Traditionally they even cover their heads in black
scarves, a tangible, everyday remembrance of those who have gone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC-WfamkAO325A4guLQ2HcUWx8AM4GYy7X_J3GTXllC2SmKlTwhBGgubMcQuqcEt5gNYHUeFWlShbj7GzJ059bLcbQSocoiNktJ7GNJUtmlRnzua1JjoNNyJW1NItkFqho3iI2TdNHbd0B/s1600/from+the+visita+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC-WfamkAO325A4guLQ2HcUWx8AM4GYy7X_J3GTXllC2SmKlTwhBGgubMcQuqcEt5gNYHUeFWlShbj7GzJ059bLcbQSocoiNktJ7GNJUtmlRnzua1JjoNNyJW1NItkFqho3iI2TdNHbd0B/s400/from+the+visita+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the <i>visita</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
5pm- After three hours, we catch a car back down the
mountain. I am emotionally drained and in reverence of the sadness and beauty
of what I have experienced. When I get
home, I take a cold bucket bath then sit with my neighbors and help shell their
beans. I make plans to go with my 11 year old neighbor (and one of my best
friends) to see her baby goats tomorrow, and start to cheer up. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6- 7:30pm.-I grade some papers and make dinner. Tonight’s
dinner is <i>jegasida</i> (steamed, coarsely ground corn which is almost the consistency of cous-cous)
with beans, kale and fish. For dessert, I have a slice of fresh papaya my
neighbor has given me, and some mango juice. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_RMUz0vuAsmwd1vowF6eLhPoFo_eUoFkQ7Bmrz-w4zXhGiB0baYmJ25_kHkBUnQhFKczkKUHzP0iiJJ4jF5NBnSkrgRBNnOfq-OpPRl5HNHYppclu2jrzpk3tt_0H11bg3vqhH1ZBklgy/s1600/dinner+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_RMUz0vuAsmwd1vowF6eLhPoFo_eUoFkQ7Bmrz-w4zXhGiB0baYmJ25_kHkBUnQhFKczkKUHzP0iiJJ4jF5NBnSkrgRBNnOfq-OpPRl5HNHYppclu2jrzpk3tt_0H11bg3vqhH1ZBklgy/s400/dinner+(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinner </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
8-10p.m.-I spend some time reflecting on the day AKA writing
this blog, lesson planning, and cleaning up my cooking mess. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
10p.m.-I am exhausted and somehow sunburnt as usual, so I
head to bed. <i>Durmi Dretu!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thanks for reading! <i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Love,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Szasha <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-82945164985662531852012-04-17T06:12:00.000-07:002012-04-17T06:12:02.412-07:00Monday: Day 2 of a Week in My Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ok, so here goes Day 2 of what I’m usually up to here in
Cape Verde- Happy Monday! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6:30am- wake up to the usual donkey alarm clock who lives
behind my house and some howling wind, quickly get ready for school, mix up
some <i>kamoka </i>(kind of like a corn
flavored power shake) for breakfast and head out on the walk to school. The <i>Bruma
Seka (</i> giant clouds of sand from the Sahara desert, for those of you who
haven’t read yesterday’s post) is in full force and I can’t help feeling like someone
is constantly pointing a giant hair dryer at
me as I walk through the hot, hot wind to school. It is a strange feeling to be walking through
wind so forceful, but yet so hot. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7:30am-1pm- Teaching time! Today, I teach all but one of my
7<sup>th</sup> and 8<sup>th</sup> grade <i>turmas</i>
(classes). Today’s subjects include: Prepositions of Time, practicing telling
time in English, quantifiers, clothing vocabulary, and some of my favorite life
lessons such as “If you don’t listen,
you won’t learn anything” or “You know I
can hear you when I’m writing on the board.”
During the break between first and second period, I hear shouts of “<i>CHUVA JA BEN” </i>(rain just came), and poke
my head outside. Sure enough, huge raindrops are plopping onto the parched
earth and an atmosphere of excitement engulfs the entire school. Although the
real rains won’t come until June or July, today’s short-lived showers were a
stark contrast to the nearly 6 months of complete dryness which has scorched
the life out of nearly all the
vegetation on my side of the island and
brought new meaning to my definition of dry. As many people are now
without a constant water source on the island, the excitement over the rain is
overwhelming, and of course boils into the classroom. I take my students’
bubbling energy as an opportunity to review weather vocabulary and I can’t help
by smile when a level one student properly uses the new vocabulary AND the
correct form of the verb <i>to be </i>“Teacher,
it is rainy today.” SUCCESS! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1pm- I leave school and walk, in the now baking mid-day sun,
to my house. On the way, my community is very concerned about me not having my
SUNbrella (a little term I accidently said once ,but have continued to use, for
my umbrella I use to keep the sun off). When I get back to my house, I stop by my
neighbor’s house across the street to chat, visit my very cute baby friend, and
see what the neighborhood has been up to. Turns out to be an excellent decision
because, not only do I have a great time playing with the baby, but my neighbor
is making <i>kamoka</i> today, and I have
been waiting to see how it’s done. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2-5pm Preparing corn to make <i>Kamoka</i> with my neighbor. We start with large dried corn kernels
already taken off of the cob. Next, we build a fire and begin heating a big,
cauldron-like metal pot over the small fire.
The pot rests on three rocks above the flames and as it heats, I help
gather more fire wood and hold the baby while his mother expertly adjusts her
fire to the correct temperature. We pour
the waiting corn into the pot and let it sit for a few moments. As the kernels
begin to roast, we stir them with a large wooden stick to keep the kernels from
burning and to make sure each kernel is roasted on all sides. I <i>fazi sonu </i>(make sleep) for the baby and
lay him in his bed as my neighbor (who happens to be one of my closest Cape
Verdean friends) stands over the fire, amid the heat and smoke on an already
hot day, stirring and stirring. We
switch on and off mixing the corn over the hot fire and the air begins to smell
of roasted corn, like pop-corn, but with a richer, smokier scent. I am not sure
how much time passes as we are having a great time joking, gossiping, and
discussing the differences between life in America and in Cape Verde, but
eventually, the corn begins to take on a rich caramel color, and as a few
kernels reach a dark, dark brown, we are done. Now the kernels will be ground
into a fine powder. Although this process used to be done with a giant mortar
and pestle (and many corn products, coffee, and even flour are still done this
way), today the final grinding of our <i>kamoka</i>
will be done with a machine. We carry our roasted corn up the steep hill to the
man who grinds corn for our community and wait. What emerges is a corn powder,
almost a dust, much finer than most flour. This powder is then mixed with
water, milk, or coffee to create a rich <i>fomi
</i>(hunger) fighting drink, which I have come to love. Check out the photos at the bottom of the post
to see the whole <i>kamoka</i> process! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
5pm- Go back across the street with a jar of fresh <i>kamoka</i> and mix it up with some sugar and
cinnamon for a quick, satisfying afternoon snack. The I check on my arm rash/
fungus….seems to be getting better….or at least not any worse which is a good
sign, more cream from the med kit it is! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
5:30- 7 – I grade the homework my 8<sup>th</sup> graders
handed in today, and am pleased to see that <u>most</u> of them seem to
understand how to use <i>should, need, have
to, and must</i> in a sentence and can demonstrate the difference between
obligation and necessity in English….SUCCESS!
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7pm- Heat up dinner….left overs supplemented with some fish
my neighbor gave me in return for letting her store her fish in my freezer. I always tell her she doesn’t have to give me
anything and I am happy to let her use my refrigerator, but she insists on
cooking me a bit of whatever she has, a kind and greatly appreciated gesture
since I know she does not have a lot. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
8pm- Two young women who dropped out of school, but are now
attending a continuation school in the island’s capital, come by for some help
with their English homework. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
9-11- lesson planning for my biggest school day tomorrow
(7:30am-6pm)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
11 pm- Brush my teeth and apply cream to the hopefully-
going –to- be- gone- in- a -few -days arm rash/ fungus. As I turn around, I find
a giant preying mantise on my bedroom door and put it outside so it could roam
free and not jump on my face during the night. Then, I tuck in my mosquito net and
go to sleep. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Thanks for reading! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Love,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Szasha <o:p></o:p></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5AjEx9QiS6PMyAx2AebcUexOsjHpSuuLk84Q7nMp9Ntz8Zw8I9MrofgG8r1TOxPBLEC06dzFdLnLYg5RERAMz7IEzh558FCsmxLl__wljfzLrDkfmVPCWQ5mlhXih8Ak1WX001lZFwVlu/s1600/kamoka+step+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5AjEx9QiS6PMyAx2AebcUexOsjHpSuuLk84Q7nMp9Ntz8Zw8I9MrofgG8r1TOxPBLEC06dzFdLnLYg5RERAMz7IEzh558FCsmxLl__wljfzLrDkfmVPCWQ5mlhXih8Ak1WX001lZFwVlu/s400/kamoka+step+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Kamoka </i>step 1</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih2_erzMyZTwZki0eX2YtmY05_kE-ztKbq40nqPPZowhzg8NXwRYAczSFMhzPh0jHjpIw5yibSdPjvKei29uSUMG2bQP5W57ApQT_FdN5AWZLWkcNB3ueGmgVf5DxraqF9LXOCtZSq8fKj/s1600/corn+in+the+pot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih2_erzMyZTwZki0eX2YtmY05_kE-ztKbq40nqPPZowhzg8NXwRYAczSFMhzPh0jHjpIw5yibSdPjvKei29uSUMG2bQP5W57ApQT_FdN5AWZLWkcNB3ueGmgVf5DxraqF9LXOCtZSq8fKj/s400/corn+in+the+pot.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">corn in the pot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-Onr1x78e0WoZeqzxwIY_-OzanRb6vYeFCJ72mq5Kw_x5bgD9idEFTahqbXT5OWGYeJatYvkPN-pr6GutwohA1dwikwXDMnQOjfO9OtRMuHQms7vBLh6mGBkDJWlKkX13uK0nqFPFJUL/s1600/fazi+sonu+ku+kamoka.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-Onr1x78e0WoZeqzxwIY_-OzanRb6vYeFCJ72mq5Kw_x5bgD9idEFTahqbXT5OWGYeJatYvkPN-pr6GutwohA1dwikwXDMnQOjfO9OtRMuHQms7vBLh6mGBkDJWlKkX13uK0nqFPFJUL/s400/fazi+sonu+ku+kamoka.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Putting the baby to sleep </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4TauMEG5-H5eEXNLFD87Dg01l2N641t2UDwccMabVUMtJsVLPidmHJkPFnB7u0CcYQQwto9TBSp1I3lwxRDnXUn-cbvsJ2l96rbIvRxHcSEKidiu55DILhgOXVwsGPF4OS4XKdtCcHT6/s1600/kamoka+and+fire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4TauMEG5-H5eEXNLFD87Dg01l2N641t2UDwccMabVUMtJsVLPidmHJkPFnB7u0CcYQQwto9TBSp1I3lwxRDnXUn-cbvsJ2l96rbIvRxHcSEKidiu55DILhgOXVwsGPF4OS4XKdtCcHT6/s400/kamoka+and+fire.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The corn begins to roast </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhZJ_gE5bGdK_AhGg_f8AcZVA4FebgtMuDgUptzFQEdC4RlnQ-T7I2opiY8lVpoFNDqQXcsozLDsaSLpxwy7jK0r44gbtUVqd8tqlHF-Xvn6mN4dTsi103962wLEsaiAdRdvQhzUii9VsM/s1600/stirring+kamoka+corn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhZJ_gE5bGdK_AhGg_f8AcZVA4FebgtMuDgUptzFQEdC4RlnQ-T7I2opiY8lVpoFNDqQXcsozLDsaSLpxwy7jK0r44gbtUVqd8tqlHF-Xvn6mN4dTsi103962wLEsaiAdRdvQhzUii9VsM/s400/stirring+kamoka+corn.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stirring and Stirring over the hot fire </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXFX30308VMjCmZbm_ZDf7ChZ8EWStZLbxCEK8I1LmjK9gqZHaL35vFI_hcVTnU_PFgLDoTRYAF_uOduBjA9IOkQU1F9R14Q43ymGtm6WUzd5oYEiTBORqBvzCWsk8Ckn6NPx2YXA-NXhd/s1600/kamoka+kernels+final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXFX30308VMjCmZbm_ZDf7ChZ8EWStZLbxCEK8I1LmjK9gqZHaL35vFI_hcVTnU_PFgLDoTRYAF_uOduBjA9IOkQU1F9R14Q43ymGtm6WUzd5oYEiTBORqBvzCWsk8Ckn6NPx2YXA-NXhd/s400/kamoka+kernels+final.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The roasted kernels ready for grinding </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Oz5nu52hYIo3VdLhiv8VTcxPmuty9yd2YJgMHXmPHAwIrKvZVJ5Hwb1d0E7FHbAM6lokJY5wrd4NpKYvGWDmC0wjTwMa8CSBPVoKunNXsmOdj8RAHSqjLyoLkdjmBzYoBuF7GGg_noog/s1600/kamoka+powder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Oz5nu52hYIo3VdLhiv8VTcxPmuty9yd2YJgMHXmPHAwIrKvZVJ5Hwb1d0E7FHbAM6lokJY5wrd4NpKYvGWDmC0wjTwMa8CSBPVoKunNXsmOdj8RAHSqjLyoLkdjmBzYoBuF7GGg_noog/s400/kamoka+powder.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>KAMOKA </i>POWDER! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10My13gtGROnTDlj09WLKwQVXOa1G3kH2oNRiGUwD0eJsIVron74mZ0wOJe2Q6QIoxondQqDgMwcQGr-wyhyphenhyphenOKn4zN1gq92ik-PKNCk9T_JzRek_oy2fO6yXMLnWTQZUDr5f_2zI-UvJO/s1600/kamoka+with+spoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10My13gtGROnTDlj09WLKwQVXOa1G3kH2oNRiGUwD0eJsIVron74mZ0wOJe2Q6QIoxondQqDgMwcQGr-wyhyphenhyphenOKn4zN1gq92ik-PKNCk9T_JzRek_oy2fO6yXMLnWTQZUDr5f_2zI-UvJO/s400/kamoka+with+spoon.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>KAMOKA</i></td></tr>
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</div>Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-59136145724533016992012-04-16T04:45:00.000-07:002012-09-11T22:06:30.113-07:00A week in my life- Sunday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hello everyone! Since so many of you seem to be curious about my daily life in Cape Verde, I've decided to do a day by day account of this week for you all. Here's what I did on Sunday, and stay tuned for the rest of the week!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>6:30 am</b></span> – Wake up to my very reliable <i>burro </i>alarm clock. No way around waking up when the donkeys start
talking, but hey if I was carrying all kinds of heavy stuff (water, firewood,
beans, hay, etc.) on my back up a hill with some guy whacking me with a stick,
I’d be hysterical as well. Then I get
ready for church. Today this includes cleaning and putting cream on my strange
arm rash/ possible fungus….the usual.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>8am-</b></span> Spot my church walking buddy and good friend walking
down the hill. She calls me from the road <br />
“Oiiii Szashaaaa, <i>Duuuuu Baiii," (Hey
Szasha, let’s go) </i> and I am once again impressed with how Cape
Verdean women can make themselves heard so clearly from so far away. We then
walk the 45 minutes to church very briskly with me practically running to keep
up with a women who is a good 6inches shorter than me. We discuss the weather, the latest town
gossip, the weather some more, and how strange the <i>bruma seka </i>(sand from the Sahara dessert blown to the islands in
hazy clouds which keep planes from landing and church going walkers from seeing
the ocean) is today. The walk is a constant string of “<i>Mashi Bon?” </i>with our replies, that yes, we did wake up good today. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHUWRIQ1KNrQU6VbosD6ZpCzbcqkO3OGknayqP8wZF5wkzvDR2b5R6cHseMvI5oOUEPP5r5sA_69BmuUNLQ7Gb81-nQII0TPBBywD4Q8NG6GofYtv-TLy7khBftv2VdMhinoaBoxoc6LXB/s1600/walking+to+church.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHUWRIQ1KNrQU6VbosD6ZpCzbcqkO3OGknayqP8wZF5wkzvDR2b5R6cHseMvI5oOUEPP5r5sA_69BmuUNLQ7Gb81-nQII0TPBBywD4Q8NG6GofYtv-TLy7khBftv2VdMhinoaBoxoc6LXB/s400/walking+to+church.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The walk to church (on a clear day a few weeks ago- no Saharan sand cloud) </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>9-10:30</b></span>-attend Catholic mass,the thing to do in my community on Sundays, conducted in Kriolu, and catch
up with friends and students from other zones. Here Portuguese hymns are
accompanied by African drumming in a blending of cultures that is truly
beautiful. After church, I find a clutch <i>bolea
</i>(free ride back to my house) from my neighbors! As I am walking up the hill to my house, one
of my favorite ladies on the street invites me to come back for lunch, so I
hurry home to wash my laundry.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqRjsL49NBZKv7Ei9xlBXUzaI2iXV-hDI0NvL03uHY4T9SSBR0mRVoGvaePs9-6VbGE_ty5j6k8_jUeSJCIr3mn6Lp5mgIHginLhonRZKsBBeSbFD_x7QC6b2YN8OGRedc4bifUfmRj-9o/s1600/Church.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqRjsL49NBZKv7Ei9xlBXUzaI2iXV-hDI0NvL03uHY4T9SSBR0mRVoGvaePs9-6VbGE_ty5j6k8_jUeSJCIr3mn6Lp5mgIHginLhonRZKsBBeSbFD_x7QC6b2YN8OGRedc4bifUfmRj-9o/s400/Church.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The church my community goes to<br />
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</tbody></table>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">10:30-12:30</span></b>- frantically <i>bati
ropa </i>(wash clothes) with my washboard and buckets, so that I can get the
clothes up and drying above my house before lunch. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3pUD9AiPmXvndrIfTWVt7xfGqyS4UrnX1y_6Z4-aHDZoyMwXBcpC8da1oJ9_qfKmmZH19m2KPjxHpuX2-TBnKAFPaI51GKlZ3H8GU8Yq69PpUBss04AYe58aVM-jOuo07AwRr15bEAbgj/s1600/20110101_05.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3pUD9AiPmXvndrIfTWVt7xfGqyS4UrnX1y_6Z4-aHDZoyMwXBcpC8da1oJ9_qfKmmZH19m2KPjxHpuX2-TBnKAFPaI51GKlZ3H8GU8Yq69PpUBss04AYe58aVM-jOuo07AwRr15bEAbgj/s400/20110101_05.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cape Verdean Washing Machine </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>12:30-3</b></span>- Have a <i>saaaaabbbbii</i>
(really good) lunch with Louisa. She made fish <i>catxupa</i> (Cape Verde’s
national dish, a delicious stew-like food make of cracked corn, fava beans,
vegetables, and any kind of meat you want, if you have it). After lunch we cut
open a fresh papaya which, as promised, proves to be <i>doce de mas</i> (the most sweet) and chat about how to make chickens
fat, the latest <i>novella </i>news<i> </i>(Brazilian soap opera), and life. I stay a couple of hours, then head home to
finish washing my clothes.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>3-6:30-</b></span> I get home and visit with my neighbors then finish <i>bati</i>-ing. A constant stream of visitors
come by as I do some work around my house (sweep the kintal, wash dishes, put
more cream on my arm fungus…etc.) Then my neighbor calls me to <i>caska</i> her beans with her because she
knows that sitting with my them, chatting, and shelling beans is one of my very
favorite things to do. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>6:30-</b></span> Go get my fresh, sun- dried clothes off the line, fold them up, and once again
wonder at how miraculously clean you can get a super muddy, sweaty, maybe even
moldy shirt with a washboard and some elbow grease. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>6:45-</b></span> Take a nice
cold, sun-set lit bucket bath and put on fresh clothes! <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>7pm</b></span>- heat up dinner. Yesterday, I found some curry powder,
so I made curry with chicken, sweet potatoes, and kale- a nice break from the
usual rice and beans…but, the weird thing is that as I’m heating up this exotic
masterpiece of a dinner, I’m having major <i>sodadi
pa nha arroz e fixon</i> (really missing my usual rice and beans)....ill take
that as a sign of true community integration! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">8-10</span></b>- lesson plan, lesson plan. lesson plan<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>10</b></span>- I wash my face, brush my teeth, reapply
fungus/rash/mystery lesion cream, tuck in my mosquito net, and fall asleep
watching the stars out my window. <i>Durmi Dretu! </i> (sleep well) <o:p></o:p></div>
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Thanks for reading and <i>Fika Dretu</i> (stay well)<i>,</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Szasha </div>
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Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-57895737627245135172012-03-12T03:32:00.000-07:002012-03-12T03:33:04.379-07:00Gripe Rixu<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hello everyone! I’ve been sick for a few days now with what can only be described as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gripe rixu. </i>Nearly every sickness imaginable here is referred to as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gripe </i>and many people pride themselves on their personal <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gripe </i>cures. I thought I’d take the opportunity to share some of the remedies that I have been offered as my sickness as transformed from body pain and a fever to a sore throat and runny nose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Last</span> Saturday, I had a fever and spent the whole day in bed wishing I had the energy to do something. The day was not entirely lost however because I was showered with kindness from my community and offered these cures for fever:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">●</span> Drink <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">txeu (a lot of) </i>fresh cow milk </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">●</span> Make lemon tea </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">●</span> Climb up the mountain, pick a weed that grows <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">laaaaa riba</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(way up the mountain) and make a tea from it (As I was told this one, I couldn’t help but envision the epic hunt for the eagle eggs of Nacho Libre) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So after a few days of lemon tea, milk, and some non-aspirin fever reducer from my Peace Corps med kit, the fever was gone, but I was left with the same painfully sore throat that half my community has and a bunch of snot. That’s where the second round of remedy suggestions came in:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">●</span> Take a shot of hot (flaming is best) grog (local, barely refined, super <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">forti</i> alcohol made of sugarcane)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">●</span> more lemon tea, but this time mixed with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sumu de tambarina </i>(tamarin juice) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">●</span>Very bitter tea made from one of the grasses in front of my house… who knew that I was living on top of a natural pharmacy?? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That’s when my landlord, a Cape Verdean woman who now lives in Boston, Massachusetts and is here visiting, intervened. She gave me her “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bon remedi de America” </i>– Dayquill, calling it the best medicine in the world and bringing my healing, cultural experience full circle. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Don’t worry, with all of the Cape Verdean remedies and a little help from my well stocked medical kit, I’m getting better and even have my voice back, which is convenient for teaching stuffed classrooms of teenagers! So who knows if it was the tincture from the mountain, the flaming grog, or the Dayquill, but Im glad to be feeling better! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Love to you all and enjoy the picture of the mountain (actually the backside of the volcano) -home to the mysterious fever-reducing leaves!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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</div>Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-31327848992247896802012-02-28T05:51:00.001-08:002012-02-29T03:02:02.278-08:007 Months to make the most<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hello everyone! I figured it would be appropriate to make my first “real” blog post about the most dramatic news in my life lately: that I will be transferring to Peace Corps Mozambique in September. After 24 years of service in Cape Verde, Peace Corps headquarters has decided to graduate Cape Verde as a Peace Corps post. This decision is the result of Cape Verde’s recent and rapid development and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>lack of funding for what is a very expensive post to maintain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although I understand this reasoning and am excited to embark on yet another adventure in Mozambique, my parting from Fogo, the volcano I have called home for this year, will be bittersweet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, I feel honored to have been a part in the final step of Peace Corps aid in Cape Verde. As I listen to stories from my older neighbors about how they lived in “tempo bedju”, (the old days), the recent developmental accomplishments of the country become apparent and I am grateful to have been a part of this beautiful country’s journey to where it stands today. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are currently many newly trained teachers searching for work, and to know that one of these very capable and empowered Cape Verdeans will be taking over my job brings happiness to my transition. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As I look back upon my service here, not one, but hundreds of moments come to mind which inspire me to continue my service in Mozambique. Talking and laughing as the sun rises over the mountain during our climb to harvest beans with the women of my community or holding a grieving widow’s hand as she wails for her recently deceased husband, but smiles at me because she appreciates my hand of support. Knowing that my neighbors, by now my Cape Verdean family, care to teach me their ways and protect me or talking with my students about their futures and dreams as we create works of art. The way that a student’s eyes light up as they finally understand a concept or hearing their gradual yet rewarding progress in their attempts to speak English with me on my porch. The way the women who taught me to carry 50 pound sacks of beans or buckets of water down the mountain on my head used to laugh with love when the water or beans slipped from my unaccustomed head, and how they would always have the time, if not at the moment, to appreciate and encourage my efforts to integrate into their way of life. The way my community would bombard me with home -made remedies when I was sick or teaching my host mother, one of the strongest and most inspirational women I have ever met, how to swim, helping her to conquer what seemed to be her only fear, the waves of the ocean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These moments along with countless others with my host family, community members, and fellow volunteers and dear Cape Verdean friends have made my time as an English teacher in Cape Verde one of the most interesting, inspiring, and memorable periods of my life, and although I will miss and never forget these experiences, I am excited to make new memories in Mozambique.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although the moment of departure will be tear –filled upon leaving my community, I knew that Peace Corps would involve the unexpected and am ready to embrace this moment as part of the adventure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I am grateful for the next six months that I have to complete my service in Cape Verde before transferring to Mozambique. I will not be leaving Cape Verde until the end of September and as of now, the volunteers on Fogo have many exciting projects in the works!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are working on a leadership<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and sports camps for local youth, on establishing volunteer groups to continue our legacy of service, on creating murals in our communities, on material and resource development to leave for those Cape Verdean teachers who will replace us, and on countless other activities before be leave! As we will be the last memory of Peace Corps in Cape Verde, I am preparing to make a tremendous push these next six months to leave the best and brightest impression of our service on my community, my island, and for Cape Verde as a whole. Thanks for reading! More updates later, and love to you all! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Oh and the picture is of another volunteer and great freind of mine Mi-Mi, and our wonderful host siblings during training! </span></span></div>
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</div>Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7788638819236345384.post-40866611668157474892012-02-14T04:05:00.002-08:002012-02-14T04:05:49.436-08:00Hello!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Hello! I finally made a blog! I know I haven’t been the best about keeping you all posted about my life here in Cape Verde, so I figured this would be a great way to keep in touch with all you wonderful people who care about my adventures! I’m currently living the Peace Corps Cape Verde adventure and will be posting some backdated posts to give you an idea of what my journey as an English teacher has been like so far, and then move on with current life adventures! AT this moment, I live in a rural community on the island of Fogo <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in the Republic of Cape Verde ( for any of you who are really behind on my life, I joined the Peace Corps and have been teaching English on a volcano off the coast of West Africa for the last 7 months)! To start with, here is a picture of the sunset and neighboring island of Brava from my window! Love you all and I’ll be posting soon!</strong></span></div>
</div>Szashahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02878676994377371717noreply@blogger.com0