Monday, December 12, 2011

Food Dreams / Village Politics

Hello everyone!

Since I came to this country, I've been having taunting dreams about food. Usually they go like this: I order a pizza and right when I pay for it, I wake up. Or, I walk into a Taco Bell or Burger King and I'm verbally stunned at the menu, I ask someone else to order for me and right before I get the food I wake up. OR... I'm about to bite into a large hamburger, and I wake up....

But recently -- and I think it's because I'm about to come home for a Christmas and New Year vacation -- I've been able to bite into the food I order. A few days ago I ordered a hamburger in a dream, and I actually got to take a bite or two. The rub is that I woke up absolutely disgusted at how it tasted. Two days ago it improved a little bit; I received a large hot dog with ketchup and mustard, took a bite and it tasted... like a hot dog with ketchup and mustard. Then I woke up. Things are improving! Today I could have sworn I smelled fresh bagels cooking somewhere, but I think that was just a fluke of some sort.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All joking aside, my work here in my village of Niandouba has been great recently! In November and early December I held pretty successful meetings shaping my and my villagers' idea of creating an early childhood education and development center, what we are calling a Sudu Cukalon but what is officially named a Case des Tout-Petits (CTP). Today my host mother Mariama Diaw and I became the first two individuals to begin training at an established CTP in the road town Kounkane, 15km from Niandouba. All of this week her and I will be attending class there, 9am-1pm, teaching and playing with kids aged 3-5. Mariama has volunteered to be one of the support staff; she will attend the Sudu Cukalon one day a week and help teach and take care of the kids. This training is especially important because not only is she learning how a CTP is run, but she is gaining an understanding of the value of early childhood education, an issue which was deemed the most important issue at the World Education Forum in Dakar, Senegal in 2000. Today, when I gave her $10 for the week for attending this training, she said "Oh Sakou, your paying me to learn?". She's a great mother and we will have soooo much fun this week.

And indeed, early childhood care and development is very important. I've been reading Wangari Maathai's most recent book (before she passed away this year, bless her) The Challenge for Africa and I believe that she would be proud of the direction my villagers and I are going with this and other projects. Maathai states that the dependency ubiquitous in Africa was not only generated by the more recent overabundance of aid, but colonialism and a detachment -- forced or defacto -- from culture and history also played a large part. Furthermore, this dependency is not at all perpetuated by some genetic or geographically-generated disposition to be relatively careless and "fatalistic" about the welfare of one's children and the future. It all comes back to a loss of culture. She prescribes a focus on strengthening the "culture of peace" inherent in many African cultures, a focus on the environment and environmental sustainability, and also a strengthening of Africa's future leaders, of civil participation and activism in general. She also says that to strengthen the leaders of tomorrow, ethics and leadership have to be taught from the beginning of a child's education to the last year of high-school; a topic only focused on at the university level across Africa. I believe that the tree planting, garden establishing, capacity building, and the increase in the quality of education that I'm doing in my village is hitting upon her prescriptions.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's not all smooth sailing though. You'd think that people would be behind my ideas and projects, see and understand the obvious value, and want to help, but it's my current perception that village politics are getting in the way of things. A few examples:
  1. I was recently told that I can't use the building I wanted to house the Sudu Cukalon because it is a "health structure" and a group of health officials have refused access to it for anything but health projects that they are informed of and condone.
  2. Whenever I try to have a meeting, it's like pulling teeth trying to get people to attend. The mechanisms that are in place to inform people when a village meeting is scheduled seem to be off access to me in many cases, even though I am told by many villagers of high standing that "everyone will be notified".
  3. There is this feeling that people want to be paid to help themselves. If I have an idea for a project and I need a little bit of volunteer assistance it becomes difficult to mobalize people, even after they've publicly volunteered. To quote Wangari Maathai: It's as though I'm expected to compensate them for helping themselves.
These issues are overcome though, through something I've been learning about firsthand called politics. Politics on the village level is much like the politics we know back in the states, and I use many tactics that I've learned from paying attention to the news all my life. I constantly remind people that what we are doing is for the children, and that I'm just a volunteer. If I have no children, and I'm volunteering to help them, then why shouldn't they? I also have an ace up my sleeve that I can use at any time, the wonderful director of our primary school Director Mussa Coly Balde. Last night I came to him after dinner updating him on a few things, and I told him that some of the potential staff for the Sudu have come off to me as wishy-washy. I also told him about the problem of the Ministry of Health (MoH) officials prohibiting use of the building we planned to use for the Sudu.

Last night, from around 8 o'clock to 11 o'clock he and I went on a reprimanding campaign all over the village. We arrived at the house of the potential teacher and got a pretty convincing pledge to attend a week of training in Kounkane at the CTP.

We then went to the health worker Souba's house and YELLED quite a bit at him. He told us that we hadn't informed him adequately enough about our plans for using the building, and Director Balde flipped out at him, along with some other villagers that had chosen to approach the loud yelling next-door to their compounds. Souba played a large role in shaping this project, but when the MoH officials arrived in my village last week they decided themselves to start a project in the Sudu's building beginning in January, and consequently barred access to the building. I was not present in village at the time, nor was the village chief or Director Balde. Souba says when he informed them of our idea for the Sudu Cukalon, they verbally prohibited use of the building. Director Balde's grief was that he didn't fight for our idea and by condoning their prohibition he was setting up a blockade for the Sudu Cukalon, and oh boy did Balde show that grief.

Director Balde and I then stormed to my host father, the village chief Sakou Balde, and told him about what was happening. Sakou, in my perception, is not as involved in village happenings as he should be. If I was the leader of a group of 1000 people I have to admit that I would be the first to know everything, but he is not. Perhaps it's that he is over 50 years old, doesn't use his cell phone very often, barely greets the village, can't get people together for a meeting, and empirically cannot keep promises. He's a good host father, and he's getting better at helping me with my work, but I can think of two or three other host fathers in a 20-km radius that I'd rather have stand beside me. Sakou said that he would speak to Souba about what's going on, but only after Director Balde got in some scathing reprimands about not "grabbing the village like you should".

It's stressful and tough to watch this struggle, but Director Balde is being the voice that I cannot be. Balde is not from Niandouba, and that takes a chop at his credibility and village clout, but he is being the proxy I, and consequently and the future of Niandouba, needs. I wish I could tell him with a greater vocabulary, but a pat on the back, a straight look in the eyes and a thank you will have to do for now.

Although I believe that anything the MoH wants to do for the people of Senegal is in some ways more appropriate than the projects I'd like to do -- Senegal helping Senegal is better than me helping Senegal -- I don't need people putting up unnecessary roadblocks. A building is a building, not a political tool. A meeting is a chance to better understand ideas and issues, not a waste of time or an opportunity to posture or soapbox, or something to not believe in from the get-go. And a chief should act like one, not like just another villager. But it all comes back to value. Once people really understand the value of early childhood education I believe the tune of the village will change; the roadblocks will be removed and we will be able to move forward more fluidly. For now, we must just move forward and do the best we can.

Love you,
Costa

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Love and Knowledge

Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving. I sure did! Just about every volunteer stationed in the region of Kolda came to the Kolda Regional House for the holiday. We killed and cooked a huge turkey and a huge chicken, a bunch of the girls down here cooked pies all day (7 or 8 pies of all different flavors...), we had stuffing and green bean casserole and sweet potato casserole and oh my god it was amazing.
On other occasions I've done some of the cooking but this time I just sat out and relaxed. I still haven't gotten over the meal; it was so perfect and so delicious I can't grasp it yet. Soon a proper way to thank everyone that cooked will come to my mind, but for now I'll just be incredibly content that our Thanksgiving went so perfectly well.
-------------
I've been thinking about this during our holiday spent here... and I feel I need to take a moment to dispel the somewhat prevailing idea of what Africa is like:
The idea that the people of sub-Saharan Africa are incredibly poor and unhappy is a myth that must be forgotten because to believe in it is a cruel mistake, granted an innocently-ignorant one. We as PCVs are happy here and they are happy to have us! Together we spend our days sharing and developing ideas, cooking food, gossiping, picking cotton, planting trees, teaching kids, joking, dancing, playing games, fishing, farming, eating mangoes and oranges and peanuts and corn and bananas and coconuts, in general having fun and living life!
Oh, to be in this position in life! Every day we volunteers are working towards creating a better future for our host country nationals. We stretch our minds out to their limits trying to come up with sustainable and practical ways to improve lives here. And in the process we and they are constantly gaining knowledge. The best part of it all is that the primary motivation of our work is love; immense love of life, of our hosts here, of the children and mothers and women and men who are here working their butts off trying to make better lives for themselves.
Life is hard here, but it's full of fun and happiness. Africa -- and specifically West Africa and even more specifically Senegal -- is not a poor and conflict ridden place; that image should not automatically come to your head when you think of "Africa". Sure it's really hot, and its dry, and the roads are bad sometimes, and the cars are usually in disrepair, etc., but every day is not spent thinking about the bad. People are happy and motivated by a vision of a future of better roads and better cars and increased income and health.
-------------

How was the meeting? Everything went VERY well, and I can't wait to tell you about it. People were reluctant to show up to the meeting times I had set, so we had to try to hold the meeting three times, but the third time worked and a good amount of people showed. I'll speak more about the progression of our plans for a kindergarten in my next post. For now, I have an annoying headache. I'm going to relax and read my book and drink my Coke and enjoy life, I earned it!

Love you,
Costa

Sunday, November 20, 2011

The Sudu Cukalon

Ah! the cold season. Hardened volunteers kept telling me that the weather was going to get cooler here, but I didn't believe them. They said it would rain, and I didn't believe them then either. But both predictions have come true, it IS getting colder! It's so cold at night that I almost reach for my sleeping bag to use as a blanket.

Tomorrow is a big day. Tomorrow the director of the elementary school of Niandouba and I will be holding a village-wide meeting to further discuss the idea we've been tossing around.

After living in my village for 3 weeks I casually asked Director Balde if he thought the village needed a kindergarten. He looked me straight in the eyes and said "that is the best thing I've heard all week". We've officially requested one, but we haven't gotten a response from the government's educational agency. A month ago I visited him in his office and asked if he thought it would be possible to just create our own kindergarten. Again his eyes lit up and he immediately was on board.

Whenever we've spoken about the idea to our fellow villagers they always welcome it and generally give positive feedback. I've presented the idea informally to many people, and Director Balde has presented it to a small group of villagers at an earlier meeting, and tomorrow we will be putting the idea out to the masses for discussion.

Wish us luck. We need people in the village to step up and volunteer for support positions such as the foster mother and grandmother jobs listed below. We already have cooking crews, and Director Balde is working on getting a teacher. Although I've been constantly reassured people will step up tomorrow and say "Yes, I'd love to spend every Monday (or Tuesday, Wed., Thurs.) taking care of really little kids!", I doubt it. I hope they are just as right in their predictions as the older volunteers were about the weather.

I also hope I'm not biting off more than I can chew. I know this is a good idea, and many mothers and villagers have agreed that early childhood education is important, but what if they don't want to pay the 500FCFA (one dollar) tuition? What if we can't get a well trained volunteer teacher? What if we get everything all set up, and then each day is a horror story of kids hitting other kids, crying, not sharing, getting sick, pooping and peeing all over the place...

Here is an excerpt from my working grant request outlining the idea:

The Village of Niandouba
The village of Niandouba is situated 15km southeast of Kounkane. In the middle of dense forest, there are roughly 1500 people residing in Niandouba itself and the close surrounding villages.
In the recent past, the government of Senegal in conjunction with foreign partners constructed a dam on the river Kayaga, which has created a large reservoir on the edge of Niandouba. This was done to encourage increased residency in and around Niandouba and the barrage built there. The water is fished daily and there are around 30 personal gardens surrounding Niandouba’s side of the reservoir alone.
Niandouba’s main sources of income are agriculture, followed by charcoal production, trading and fishing. The close proximity to Diaobe – a very large weekly market-town – adds incentive for women to garden salable produce and travel weekly to trade.
The only educational infrastructure in Niandouba is the elementary school. Students ready for college level must travel 15km to the road-town of Kounkane.
Largest Issues in Niandouba
  • 20% of children aged 5 and under are considered malnourished by our village health structure.
  • Charcoal making is conducted by almost every male in Niandouba, contributing to deforestation.
  • There is a dearth of educated adults.
  • The educational system in Niandouba starts at age 6 and ends around 13; for many, education at college/sahem levels in Kounkane is not possible due to the distance.
  • Lack of tools, herbicide and pesticide in agriculture; lack of fencing in gardening; lack of tools in fishing; and the lack of a wholesaler in village.
  • 115 children aged 3-5 reside in Niandouba, enough to warrant the installation of a Case des Tout Petits (kindergarten), but a request for the installation of a Case des Tout Petits has been ignored thus far.

I and my fellow villagers have considered these issues thoroughly. Agroforestry and integrated pest management techniques implemented in the fields and gardens of Niandouba can mitigate the stress from animals and pests as well as increase the yields each harvest. The selection and planting of tree species in the form of woodlots can help fight deforestation. We are currently taking steps in these and other directions, but to tackle the problem of a weak educational infrastructure within Niandouba we must request financial support for the initial materials and equipment.
Grant Request
Considering the lack of an educational structure strong enough to support Niandouba, and considering the extremely low levels of child nutrition: the Nutrition Committee for the Children of Niandouba, the director of the elementary school Mussa Coly Balde, Niandouba’s village chief Sakou Balde, ASC Souba Balde and myself are requesting a SPA grant of $1000 to improve upon the existing educational infrastructure through the creation of the Sudu Cukalon, as well as to facilitate the installation of a school garden and the planting of trees on school grounds.
Sudu Cukalon (SC)
Counterparts: Director Mussa Coly Balde, Nutriton Commitee for the Children of Niandouba
The SC is a multifaceted educational institution focused on:
  1. Increasing and monitoring the nutritional levels of the children of Niandouba aged 0-5.
  2. Providing early childhood education to children aged 3-5, including health/environmental education.
  3. Establishing a link between health, education and environmental issues which will encourage better health monitoring of young children and pregnant mothers, as well as an increased desire to understand health/environmental/education issues.

Children attend the SC every Monday through Thursday. The school is open from 8:00am to 3:00pm, October to June. There are three grades in attendance each day; petite, moyen and grande; serving children aged three, four, and five, respectively.. The SC’s staff includes:
  • versatile leaders, talented members of the community who serve as teachers
  • foster mothers, female members of the community who serve as support staff
  • nutrition specialists, members of the community trained in nutritious cooking
  • grandmothers, female members of the community who sing and tell stories
  • religious teachers, members of the community that teach about Islam

The staff is all volunteer. A tuition of 500 FCFA/person will help establish and maintain the food store. Vegetables grown from the school garden will be cooked and sold to supplement the store. We will also accept donations of staples and vegetables from the community.
The kitchen, garden, and classroom are each different facets of the SC and are described below.
Nutrition Kitchen
According to the health hut of Niandouba, 20% of children under the age of 5 are malnourished. After speaking with the residents of Niandouba through public and private meetings, we have decided to revitalize an old health hut structure into a nutrition kitchen. Informal education about nutrition will coincide with the cooking of nutritious porridges in the form of animations or causeries, informal teaching sessions which will cover various health issues. The porridge will be given to the students attending school, and the weight of each child will be monitored on a monthly basis.
Though nutrition causeries held by PCV Charlene Hopkins in September and October of 2011, 15 women have been educated in nutrition and food groups and in the preparation of nutritious porridges. These women will be both assisting in the further nutritional education of Niandouba in causeries and will be preparing the meals.
Funding is needed for two pots and a few cooking utensils, as well as serving equipment such as bowls and cups.
School Garden
A school garden will be started to supplement the lunchtime meals cooked at the elementary school as well as the meals prepared at the Nutrition Kitchen. The garden will be maintained by the students of the elementary school.
Funding is needed for the fencing of the garden, seeds, watering cans, and individual fencing for out-planted trees on school and SC grounds.
Sudu Cukalon Early Childhood Education
Mothers of Niandouba have expressed interest in increased early childhood education, and so the elementary school director Mussa Coly Balde and I, along with fellow villagers will be creating and maintaining an educational program for the youth of Niandouba aged 3-5.
Funding is needed for furniture such as mats, benches, a teachers desk and chair. Also needed is paint and painting tools, as well as locks for the doors. Finally, funding is needed to purchase children’s books and toys, and learning tools such as pencils, pens, crayons, markers, paint, chalk, rulers, notebooks, chalkboard tablets, paper.
The curriculum will match the current Case des Tout Petite programs, but Director Balde and I will be modifying it to include environmental education, nutrition, and hygiene.
Much like a Case des Tout Petits, there are several components to the SC:
Education Component
This component includes socialization and awareness activities that develop the psycho-motor and social-emotional skills which will enable children to better deal with the formal educational structure that awaits them. In the SC several activities are offered to young children: language activities, mathematical activities, as well as activities such as art and perceptual motor activities. The children will also have ample time to play with each other, developing their social and emotional skills.
Health Component
The volunteers working within the SC will be monitoring the weight and overall health of each child. Health workers involved will provide screenings of certain deficiencies and diseases.
Nutrition Component
This component consists of the preparation of nutritional meals by mothers and assistants, as well as the growing of vegetables and Moringa in the elementary school garden. Children attending the SC will receive a nutritious porridge every day they attend.. Maternal assistants will ensure a balanced diet and take care to prevent nutritional deficiencies in toddlers..
Capacity building for parents, families and communities
The SC will provide a forum for information, training and awareness for parents on aspects of the development of early childhood (health, nutrition, education, protection), which allows them to provide better monitoring of young children in the family. Through causeries and murals, parents and adults will learn about myriad health issues ranging from nutrition to diarrhea and ORS preparation, to malaria prevention.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



This grant request is a work in progress. In fact, this whole idea is a work in progress. The day after tomorrow the Assistant Program Director for my sector (health) will be visiting my village. I'll be presenting the idea to him as well, and he will ultimately determine if I receive the grant money I'm requesting. He will also help me to develop this idea; he will tell me how to correct those parts that won't work.

In the end, this project may not come out looking anything like what I and my counterparts imagine. Especially if the villagers say that they don't want to pay the tuition. But I'm one-hundred percent sure that however it comes out, it will be helpful to my fellow villagers.

See everyone at Christmas!
-Costa

Friday, November 4, 2011

World Wise Schools - Letter 1

[I've begun corresponding with a high-school English class through the World Wise Schools student-volunteer correspondence program. My 11th grade English teacher Mr. James Stahl sent me 20 questions from his English 3 class, and here are my responses.]

Dear Southold students,

Thanks for the questions! I'm glad you're so interested! Volunteer life is a wonderful experience and it's hard to grasp it from the States, or if you haven't ever been to a less-developed nation.

We bike through forests or trek through deserts, we learn the local language and use it everyday, we work hard to make other people's lives better and we try to have as much fun as possible! Such a strange mix of domains!

Volunteer stresses vary country to country, and volunteer to volunteer. Every day we get better at the language but it can be difficult to communicate exactly how we feel or what we think. Every day you break a brick off the language barrier. No electricity or running water means flashlights at night; no computers or air conditioning, or fans, or TV; bucket baths instead of showers, and frequent trips to the well to draw water.

The culture and traditions of your host country may clash with your ideas. the Senegalese culture is 95% Muslim and very paternal; as a woman you will encounter chauvinism and as a man or a woman you may feel inclined to combat this. Ultimately as a guest of the country and a development worker you must find a balance between adapting and assimilating and standing up for your American ideals of freedom and equality.

> 1. Do you live in a hut? ...sleep in a bed?  If not, describe where you live.
I have my own cement hut with no electricity or running water. I sleep in a bed, yes. Each hut is like a room in an American household, and a number of huts makes up a family compound. The huts are spread out in a circle or some such configuration. So there is the cooking hut, my host father's hut, my brother's hut, the women's hut, my eldest host mother's hut, and my hut. I have my own bathroom (a hole in the ground leading to a cement lined pit), and to get water you go to the well and draw one or two buckets.

I live with a host family, and I grow closer to them every day. My dad, four moms (polygamy is the norm here, four is the maximum wives a man can have), sisters and brothers teach me the language and the culture through conversations, and I teach them American culture as well.

As a member of my village I am a member of the community and interact with them as well. I live with the village chief, and as the son of the village chief and as a foreigner I get respect. I also get made fun of, the best chair, free stuff like fresh peanuts or ears of corn, people asking me for money or my watch or my bike, people asking me to marry their daughters or take their babies home to America and raise them, constant invites to lunch and dinner, et. cetera, et. cetera. It's so hard to describe, but this is daily life!

> 2. Describe your hygiene situation.
Going to the bathroom in a hole in the ground isn't as fun as a western toilet. And pouring water on yourself with a big cup isn't exactly as satisfying as a western shower. You stay as clean as you can, wash your hands, feet and body as much as possible, and try to stay healthy!

> 3. Are you afraid of contracting any diseases?
Malaria, parasites such as worms or amoebas, and skin infections are all risks here in Senegal, among others. If you always clean your drinking water, take your anti-malarial drugs, and keep your body clean, you can reduce these risks. Some volunteers may constantly complain to each other about diarrhea or infections, but if you do the right things you can succeed in avoiding most health problems.

> 4. How do the people of Senegal dress?  Do you dress in a similar fashion?
They dress either in traditional Senegalese style or in more western style: shirt and pants. Senegalese dress is very flashy and colorful; garbs cover most of the body and are covered in prints or embroidery. The traditional clothing is usually hotter than a t-shirt, button-down shirt or a tank top, so I don't wear their clothing, but I do have a traditional garb for formal occasions like if someone is having a wedding in my village.

> 5. What do you eat?
I and the people here eat rice EVERY DAY. It gets very monotonous. The rice usually has some sort of leaf sauce to accompany it. We eat together out of shared bowls. My father and I share a bowl, the women share a bowl and the men share a bowl.

There is also a tasty peanut sauce made with dried fish and peanut butter. Senegalese food, I'm sorry to say, is not really focused on taste but rather availability and sustenance.

> 6. What language is spoken there?  Do you know how to speak it?
There are many traditional langauges here in Senegal. As a former French colony they teach french as early as first grade and speak it for official matters, in other words the government speaks and teaches french. Thus the educated speak French, but also their traditional language.

Every Senegalese person is part of a specific ethnicity, each with their own language. The most populous groups in Senegal are the Wolof, Pulaar, Mandinka, and Jaxanke ethnic groups. I live with Pulaars and have learned a dialect of Pulaar, Pulaar Fulakunda. I speak it every day in every interaction in my village and when visiting cities. Everyday I get better at the language, and learning Pulaar has given me a great sense of pride and endless enjoyment. I was scared before I arrived in Senegal because I never did well in language classes in high-school or college, but I've found it really easy and fun when you're fully immersed!

If I knew French, I would supplement my Pulaar with that, but I took Spanish because Mrs. Tambarello was teaching...

> 7. How do the people get their food?  Do they hunt? farm? (Have you ever speared a lion? pet a giraffe?)
You guys are funny. I had the same questions before I came. Am I going to have to hunt? Will I ever get to hold a baby giraffe?? Alas, the people of Senegal don't hunt, and there are no giraffes here in Senegal. The people here mostly farm one or two or more hectare plots of land for food and income. On the family, sustenance level they plant, harvest, and sell cotton, peanuts, rice, millet, and corn.

I have slaughtered and butchered chickens, though. Senegalese people keep lots of animals, especially the Pulaar ethnicity. My father has 30 cows and a bunch of goats, sheep and chickens. It's a sign of affluence, and when a reason to celebrate arrives we slaughter and eat something.
 
> 8. What types of transportation are available to the people?
People have bikes with the frequency that people have cars back in America. To get to my village I bike 8 miles through the forest, it's really really fun! We call them bush paths, paths through the forest.

There are a bunch of old, beat up, barely running station wagons here in Senegal called "sept-places" that we use for public transportation. Sept-place is French for Seven Seater. Seven or eight... or 11... people sit cosy in those. That's the classier way to get around. The more common way is by waving down or catching a large windowed van called a "mini-car". Its kinda like a small school bus. Mini-cars are crammed full of people and run all along the one real road here in Senegal, the Route National.

> 9. Are there such things as witch doctors there?
Yep, there are traditional healers here. People go to them if they want a blessing, a charm to ward off a specific illness, or a balm or medicine to heal something. You can get a special rope to ward off snakes, for instance. Just tie it around your leg and they wont attack you. Charms protect you from death, bad dreams, illness, and provide your babies or future babies with health and good fortune. Just about everyone here in Senegal wears a charm of some sort around their wrist or arm, waist or neck.

Things like this make living in Senegal so damn amusing. Snakes kill cows here in Senegal, so its understandable to want a charm against them. The mortality rate is high, illnesses are rampant, so some blessings and luck can't hurt.

> 10. What is the climate like?
Hot. It's so hot, all the time. It's so hot here, every language uses the phrase "It's hot." as a greeting. Sometimes you want to take all your clothes off. Sometimes it makes you go a little crazy.

> 11. Do the people have cultural skin piercings and gouges?
Yeah some do. It depends on their ethnic group. Pulaars stain their faces with permanent black ink and do burn scars in patterns on their faces.

> 12. Are you the shortest and slowest person in the village?
That is hilarious.

> 13. Are there drugs there?  If so, what kind?
West Africa in general is a transit port for the trade of cocaine and heroin from South America to Europe and America. Here in Senegal there are hard drugs like that, but that's all done in its own underworld. More common is the smoking of marijuana. Although illegal, you may once in a while smell it or see someone smoking it in a village or city. The traditional drug of the Senegalese ethnic groups is the Cola Nut. It is an upper, with qualities of caffeine. It's where the caffeine in cola soft drinks used to come from. People chew them to get a jolt, and it's widespread, village or city. Muslims do not drink alcohol, so only the slim Christian minority drinks and thus bars are usually only in towns with at least +10,000 people.

Senegal is one of those countries in which the laws requiring a prescription for potentially harmful medications such as opiates is lax and unenforced. This is not a threat to the Senegalese people, as prescription medications are expensive relative to a traditional healing solution such as a crown of branches woven together and worn around your head to prevent headaches.

> 14. Do the children attend school?  What is it like?
Their school system is modeled after the French educational system. My village has an Elementary school, which is the American equivalent of grades 1-6. After that, kids in my village have to go 8 miles to the middle school in the closest big town. They walk or bike.

It's hard to objectively describe the school system here. Teachers, Principals, and students all differ. Discussion of the school system is better left for another correspondence.

> 15. Is there a rigid social structure in the village?
I feel only when it comes to the relationship between men and women. Most men farm, fish, trade, and make charcoal. Women cook, clean, and raise the children. Men cook tea and sit under trees talking about problems and politics, women gossip and tend their vegetable gardens, roast corn and braid hair.

As a foreigner you blend into these things. Female volunteers are treated as not quite women and not quite men, and are allowed to do most tasks, although they may be laughed at. Personally, I strive to show my sense of the equality of men and women bestowed upon me by American culture and the movements our past. I help cook with my sisters and mothers, I do my own laundry and pull my own water, and I garden a lot. I also cook tea (a male ritual/skill honed during youth), plant trees, meet with the elder men and hang out with the men. You must find you're own, comfortable balance between cultures.

> 16. What made you join the Peace Corps?
I've always had a strong desire to help others. It may have been my upbringing, my parents teachings, or the teachings of American culture and history. I became interested in international development and human rights during undergraduate studies at CUNY John Jay College. I went with a major in International Criminal Justice/Human Rights primarily because although sociology and philosophy interested me immensely, my desire to help others wouldn't be satisfied without a focus on development.

The Peace Corps was a cost effective way to get experience in the world of international development, and it was easier for me to get into Peace Corps than get a job with a development agency such as the UN, USAID, or the many thousands of others. I didn't really know much about it, either.

Now that I'm here, I see what development work really is. Development cannot be learned in a formal institution, it must be experienced. Development to me has become a difficult struggle between what we believe can be a sustainable and replicable solution, and "the easy way" of giving aid. You may want to build a library for your village, but is it sustainable? If you get funding or write a grant (American taxpayer dollars) for a library, aren't you just continuing the dependency of the less-developed world on the more-developed world? What if you just bought the books for the library? How can you make sure your library stays open and in good shape when you leave?

Most of the struggles here for volunteers are mental ones such as my library example. These are issues discussed by volunteers for hours, till we are pulling our hair out in frustration, or someone is crying. The alternative is to turn to pragmatism -- or thoughtlessness? -- and provide assistance in a straightforward way because that is the fastest way it can be done. If USAID wants to fund projects that improve the output and income of Senegalese farmers, and that grant is available, and you can do it, should you allow yourself to be slowed down by worries of sustainability? Build the fence for them or figure out a way to convince the villagers to pay for a fence, its your choice. We have enormous power as Peace Corps Volunteers.


> 17. Do you miss Southold?
I miss America very much. Living in Senegal has taught me two very important things about life in America. Because families are so close here, and villagers are so close as well, I have gained a greater respect for the family and the community. When I finish my two years here I plan to truly cherish my family and community, and serve my community, wherever that may be.
The other important thing is that life in America is a blessing, especially the food. This also cannot be taught, it must be experienced.


> 18. Are there special herbs there?  Would you be allowed to bring them home?
Special how? Nothing special that I've seen so far. Bringing anything back to America depends on the customs laws I believe, but I'm not sure about those.

> 19. Are there tall buildings there?...a fire department?
In your village the tallest building is usually a one story concrete building, and it's usually the Mosque or the school. Every village has a "Health Hut" where babies are born and first aid materials can be found. Malaria tests and drugs can also be found there, among other medicine. But there is not a doctor in every village. The doctor can be found at the larger "Health Post" usually around 1-10 miles away from a village".

There is no fire department. I've never thought about that.

> 20. Has jumping off Goose Creek bridge come in handy in your life in Senegal?
I was always too scared to jump. If I had it probably would've helped though. Adapting to a whole new culture and learning a new language requires mental leaps, abandoning the ground you know and have stood on your entire life. At times its really scary. But I've realized that fear of the difficulty of life can only be overcome by recognizing and understanding what difficulty is. Then it's not that scary anymore.
I think perhaps the reverse has happened: Peace Corps has prepared me to jump off the bridge. I can't wait to come home and jump and jump.


Peace Corps is at heart a collection of young and intelligent men and women who learn from intelligent trainers language, culture and technical skills to help their host country partners who themselves are intelligent in their own domains and have a lot to teach. Every day we create fans of America and we try to help those people who ask for it in a sustainable way. If you have any more questions or want pictures of anything just ask!

Thanks,
Costa

P.S. -- The volunteer parties here are something else. We really know how to have fun, because our work and life can be, at times, so hard. It's something I didn't expect but our respect and admiration not only life itself but of American culture and everything it represents has been amplified to an incredibly heart warming extent. Fourth of July was spent dancing deep into the night in the rain under some shirtless being waving theAmerican flag, while our fireworks exploded above.

When I was back home I detested the overindulgence of American culture. I was disgusted in the direction that our policies and culture were heading. Now I'm not disgusted, there is no anger, just a love for America and a desire to fight for and defend the legacy of freedom that was left to us by years of struggle.


PCV Constantinos Kokkinos
Health and Environmental Education Agent
Niandouba, Kolda, Senegal
+221 77 67 20 266
cgkokkinos@gmail.com
gniklaw.blogspot.com

Friday, September 23, 2011

Some photos

My Cucumbers, so big!

My Cucumbers plants growing dutifully up my hut!!!

My Okra!! Used in almost every sauce here, my family loves me for growing this.

One of many big Neem trees in my village and some kids helping me find them all.

USAID camp, the kids loved me, of course.

I have so many things growing, this is only half of them!

Agave Sisal is in one of the beds here, and the polypots are filled with Cashews.

The polypots are Cashew trees and there is a watermelon plant snaking its way around them.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Cha-cha-cha-cha-changes!

Turn and face the strange! Don't wanna be a richer man! Cha-cha-cha changes! Gonna have-ta be a different man! Time may change me, but I can't trace time!  -David Bowie

I feel exceptionally scatterbrained today, so I apologize in advance for the extremely poor writing below. Plans are running smoothly in village. The rainy season is running along and the village is covered in corn. You used to be able to see what someone was doing three family compounds away, but now corn stalks are blocking your view in every direction. The corn is almost ripe and that's going to be amazing. People roast it over charcoal. I'll be keeping enough margarine and salt on hand for that day.

I've officially requested a Case des Tout Petits (CTP) be installed in my village. This is the Senegalese version of a kindergarten. If the request is filled our village of 1000 people (including 115 kids of CTP age, 3-5) will have a center of learning for the little naked kids that run around my village all day and play with garbage or eat dirt. My school director told me if they approve the CTP there would be a big part and he would dance, he also said everyone in the village would dance including my host father the village chief. We will see!

I now have 150 new tree sacks in my backyard. Thirty of them are a thorny species which will eventually be used to make live fencing for the school garden and health hut gardens. A hundred of the sacks are cashew trees. The rest are a mix of pretty interesting species, orange trees, desert date trees, grapefruit trees, etc.

Live fencing is a fence made of trees or shrubs. I have 20 Agave Sisal plants in one nursery bed in my backyard for such a fence. They are cactus-like shrubs that grow a meter or 1.5m tall. I also have a bunch of thorny trees; these can be planted at very close proximity so they become like prison bars or a bit farther apart but their branches weaved together so they grow into a wall. Trimmed correctly they can be impenetrable! Take that goats, sheep and cows!

My school director and I will be drawing a plan soon for all these trees. I've also been exploring the prospect of collecting and exporting a natural resource that goes untapped in every village here in Senegal, the Neem seed. Neem trees are wonder-trees that are everywhere and ever-ignored. After cold-calling many different people in the neem industry (neem soap manufacturers, R&D labs testing neem, neem pesticide manufacturers, neem advocates) I've found one person that is motivated to work with me in setting up a business exporting raw neem seed to India. We've been speaking quite a bit, and perhaps when March-April-May rolls around (the harvest time for neem seed) I, my villagers, and the villages around mine will be collecting seed, bagging it up and putting it all on a truck to Dakar, where it will be exported to India. I'm still collecting data to see if this is a feasible plan, but so far it looks pretty solid.

After I teach villagers all around me how to correctly dry the seed they will go ahead and harvest, dry and bag it themselves. I will give them a certain amount of money per bag depending on total costs. Neem seed can be priced anywhere from $.01 to $1 per kilo. Each tree gives 30-100kg of seed. Dried correctly thats 20-70kg of dried seed per tree. 50kg sacks will most likely be used. One 50kg sack will most likely weigh out light, like 25kg. So each sack filled to the brim will represent one or two trees, and could potentially snatch $25 on the global market. Depending on all transportation costs, villagers stand to make at least $5-10 per sack, which would be pretty good supplementary income for a country with an annual per-capita income of $1000.

This business will be established by myself and specific counterparts. If successful, these counterparts will then take the reins and run the business themselves.

I've also been looking into grad schools and I think I know what I want to study. As an undergrad I studied human rights, international law and relations, and Criminology, which is an amalgamation of sociological, anthropological and psychological studies relating to crime theory and criminal justice systems and policy. As a graduate I'd like to study criminal justice policy and perhaps eventually work at a criminal justice policy research and advocacy organization. Drug policy, prison policy and many other criminal justice policies intrigue me, and I know of many think tanks/research organizations that I would love to work with. If I try this path and realize it's not for me I'll bail, we'll see.

I'm actively looking for things to do here in Senegal in relation to crime policy. Domestic violence, forced marriage and FGM are all illegal here, and each carry specific definitions and punishments, but I'm not sure the people here know exactly what protection their laws entitle them to. These three crimes happen all the time in little and big villages, road towns and cities. Very soon I will be attending a volunteer summit on Gender and Development in Dakar. There I plan on speaking to other volunteers and putting together a tourney, or village-to-village tour, to address these issues and make people aware of the protection their own laws provide them.

I could just keep typing but I'm going to stop now, as I'm sure many of you have stopped reading this post already because of it's poor quality and scatter-brained rambling. Later!

Love you,
Costa

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Second Story

When I arrived at my "volunteer site" of Niandouba, the village I'd be spending my two year service in, I was a little nervous. It wasn't as scary as the first ten minutes of the training site, but a bunch of emotions and worries welled up. I sat in my new hut and thought, "Well, I'm here for two years, I guess I'll take a nap?" Two years, two years, two years, what to do today? A strange thought. I had been expecting this, we all were, because during our three months of training my cohort was told again and again about all the worries that volunteers have. I usually disregarded them. I often told myself I'm not going to listen to these people and expect whatever happens to them will happen to me.

Well, there was one thing that we were constantly warned about. Older volunteers kept telling us: you will be worrying about how much work you do, and you will be telling yourself "I spoke to my neighbor today, that's my work for today! Lets go read a book!" They spoke as if this was inevitable, and cynic/relativist/whatever that I am I couldn't believe that. Everyone always sees things differently and nothing is certainly going to happen to me if it happened to ten before me. Well, I'll be different, and they are wrong I said to myself. To prove them wrong I jammed my first five weeks in village with tasks.

My first five weeks in Niandouba I walked around the village getting to know the people and their environment. I asked lots of questions, figured out what the people think they need and figured out ways to meet those needs sustainably. Week one I planted my garden and showed my family what techniques I used to enrich the soil. Week two I spoke to our elementary school director, a very intelligent and witty man. After many minutes of struggling to communicate with him in Pulaar we shook hands, then he looked me in the eyes and said in English "Teaching... is very difficult work." Week three I showed people how to create polypots, or plastic tree sacks.

Week four I decided I would teach people how to make Neem lotion. Neem leaves and seeds have many chemicals in them, and one of them is a very potent pesticide. Steeping leaves in boiling water for five minutes releases enough to mix with oil and shaved soap to make anti-bug lotion. I began the demonstration and what happened next was one of the things we were constantly warned would happen. I told everyone that was watching the demonstration that they could take some and put it on their bodies. They interpreted this as you can take some home with you. Kids and people started bringing containers and asking for the lotion. Then they started shoving each other, then the women started yelling at each other. Then one of my mothers took the remainder of the lotion and marched home yelling at everyone else while they yelled at her. It was a disaster.

I got upset and started walking home. Should have told them that the lotion was only for my family. Should have told them that if they wanted lotion, all they had to do was buy soap and oil and come find me....

I walked through a neighbor's house and a girl was there. I had met her before, briefly. She was on the back of the area doctor's motorcycle, and the doctor introduced her to me as a nurse. She looked about my age and she said she spoke a little English but was very quiet. Currently, I was fuming and confused. I wanted to go yell at my mother who embarrassed me by taking the bucket of lotion and running home. I looked at her as I walked past and she said to me in the most perfect English I had heard out of a Senegalese person:

Girl: Where is my mosquito lotion?
Me: You too? If you wanted lotion you should have come to the demonstration.
Girl: Well I didn't want to.
Me: Okay, well then you don't get any lotion. I did the demonstration to teach people how to make the lotion, not give it away.
Girl: Well you should have saved some for me.

At this point I was even more mad. It intrigued me that she spoke so well but it was infuriating that she would ask me for lotion, totally disregarding the fact that she didn't even get off her ass to come see how it was made.

Me (very mad and not making much sense): I don't understand! You want me to save you some lotion after showing people how to make it? What would you do with it? Use it once then never make it, and instead ask me if you can have some whenever you think you needed some? Do you see what is wrong with that? Why are all these people going crazy over this lotion, they just want a little, you just want a little, but you don't want to make it. You'll never ask me to help you make it because you won't buy the 200CFA (40 cents) worth of soap and oil.
Girl: Well, I didn't go to your demonstration because I'm not part of this village. And I didn't want to be around so many people. People would talk about me and I didn't want any problems. And people are going crazy over your lotion because people around them are dying of malaria. They think that this thing you are making will save their families lives.

At this point all of my cares and worries were blown out of my body. I wasn't angry at all anymore. This girl was not from my village, and for that matter she was not Senegalese either. Her name is Aminata and came from The Gambia, visiting her uncle. She was worried about what people thought, just like me! She was worried, just like me!   And she rationally explained to me why people were freaking out so much and getting violent. I sat down with her and we spoke for hours, long into the night.

She ended up spending an extra week in Niandouba and we hung out a lot. She would tell me her perceptions of Senegalese and West Africans and I would laugh and wonder if she was right or wrong in her observations. But there was one thing we totally agreed on: Helping people is hard. It's difficult for behavior change to be implemented, especially by a foreigner but even on one's self.

And it is hard. Volunteer life is as easy as your mind makes it. You can wake up at 11am, read books and play in your garden until 4, eat lunch, take a nap, read more, eat dinner and then fall asleep. And you could be happy doing this, but you may feel incredibly guilty. And rightly so, you have a job to do, right? The trick is to make sure you are doing your job meeting that first goal of the Peace CorpsHelping the people of your host country to meet their need for trained men and women.

But it is hard, and I was happy that Aminata showed me that people here know it and that we share the same problems: they worry a lot, they can be socially anxious, and they understand that helping people and trying to ignite behavior change is difficult. And like Aminata told me when she left Niandouba for The Gambia, "Just stay calm, don't get angry at these people, and don't worry, your job is as hard as it is kind."

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Two stories

Here is one of two stories I alluded to two blog posts ago.

Poetic Experiences

When volunteers in my March '11 cohort arrived, we were placed in our community-based training sites within four days. It was a complete shock to the system, dropped off in the courtyard of someone else's family compound with a very limited amount of formal language training. The first 10 minutes were the scariest and most surreal 10 minutes of my life; imagine being seated in a plastic chair with a circle of kids around trying to hold your hand, a man who is now your new father trying to communicate with you and an entire family telling you their names and laughing at you. Your father is also trying to hold your hand by the way, men holding hands in this culture being one of the differences that added up to too much for that first moment.

I soon managed to get over it by trying to take hold of the situation. I took out a pen and paper and started asking for everyone's name, writing little descriptions next to the name. I then asked my host father to show me around the village. This got me out of the plastic throne they had put me in and made me feel better. I soon started to feel more like a master of the universe, a whole new town in a whole new part of the world. I applied a trivial trick to calm me down and make me feel more in control: remember that everyone in this world is crazy, myself included. It's like the trick "imagine everyone is wearing underwear", but for real life not just the stage.

I gradually became more comfortable. Language which first presented itself as a hurdle became a fun and challenging puzzle. I'd never been fully immersed in a language and let me say it is a most exciting experience. Using intuition, skills of observation and body language one can solve pieces of the puzzle. And just like solving a piece of any puzzle, you get a jolt of confidence and thrill! I ended up literally jumping up and down sometimes I finally understood something, while everyone would just nod their heads and say to me the local equivalent of, DUH!

I began to excel at Pulaar Fulakunda, my language, but there were times when I didn't have enough skill to explain myself as well as I would've liked. Us volunteers would be shipped between Thies Training Center and our host family's compound just about every week. One day I came back to my family after doing some formal training in Thies and one of my three mothers was having health problems. She said she wasn't sleeping well for four days, and she was wearing some ridiculously huge cloth head wrap. She told me her ear hurt too much to sleep, and I asked her to take off the head wrap. She had cotton stuffed in one of her ear canals, and the cotton looked like it was soaked with iodine or some chemical, or more likely a traditional medication derived from an herb or flower. I became really scared, I love this woman Fatou, the funniest of my three mothers. We once went marching around town selling bread and singing "I have strength, I have muscles, I'm carrying a sack!". Her humor came out best though through great presentations of what a word or phrase meant:

we are walking down a road and it's getting really dark
Fatou: Reno, laawol ngol motyani ga, Ablai.
Me: Mi Faamaani. (I dont understand)
Fatou: Awa. Lar.
Fatou starts walking ahead of me and pretends to trip. She cries out and kicks the road for it's insolence. Then she gets in front of me and says RENO! RENO! I quickly move to the side.
Me: Ohhhhhh! I get it! Wooooo! The road is bad!
Fatou: Ahhhhhh!
Me: Reno Fatou! Reno!
Fatou leaps to one side with a smile, looking back at the road to see if a snake is on it or something.

So Fatou is sick, and she needs to go to the doctor. I'm guessing she has an ear infection. If she didn't have one before, she sure does now that there is a black cotton ball stuffed in her ear. She tells me she can't go to the doctor because she doesn't have the money. Can't her husband give her the money? It doesn't matter to me really, she means so much to me and I'd never given money to any Senegalese person before, perhaps I should start with my favorite. So I gave her four dollars.

It may have been my imagination, but for the rest of the day my family looked and treated me differently. Mostly the women. My family numbered around 30 people: 4 men, 9 or 10 women and a bunch of kids. The women had switched from beginner Pulaar to phrases I wouldn't have been able to understand. I would ask what they meant and they would laugh. They were mocking me. I went to my room to take a nap but I couldn't get to sleep, everyone was screaming and fighting outside. I knew it was about me. Notorious BIG was right! Money equals problems! Why did I give her anything? What should I do?

I had to get out of my room, out of my house. I excused myself, barely saying anything, and I walked to my friend's compound. On the way, as I usually did, I stopped at a neighbor's house to greet. A man I'd never met before was there with the kids of the house and the matron. I greeted them and he asked where I was from: 

Stranger: America?!
Me: Eeyi.
Him: I am so happy to have met you! An American learning Pulaar, this is very important! You make me so happy!
Me: Really? I'm happy too! I'm happy you're happy!

I tell him I'm happy but I have to go, I'm visiting a friend. The stranger, Amadu, asks me to stop by on the way back from my friends house. There is something he wants to give me. I leave and come back. He has written me a poem. The poem is in English on one side of the paper, Pulaar on the flip side. It's called Money isn't Everything or Kallis wonaa Fof, and goes something like this:

You can buy a clock, but you can't buy time.
You can buy blood, but you can't buy life.
You can buy a girl, but you can't buy love.
You can buy a book, but you can't buy knowledge.

And on and on it went. I'm floored. This man, whom I just met, proved to me that it's no big deal, money isn't everything. If someone think's it is then they are wrong and should chill out. It was such apt timing, and this coming from a Pulaar, so poetic in itself. I went home with a smile and hung out with my family. We ate and ignored the elephant. The next morning I read the poem to my family. I couldn't gauge their reaction but it didn't really matter, we are all crazy and our reactions to problems and complex situations can bring out such insanity.

In the end, giving money to my family was the wrong choice. It was my first and last handout, something that local NGOs here love to do. But my reaction to the wrong choice was doubly wrong. If I care about someone and let them have some money, why do I have to be sad and scared? By happy! They need the money, I would have just bought Coca Cola and cookies but maybe she will actually go to the doctor now. The next morning she did, and I was happy.

There is another story of someone speaking English to me at just the right time, but I'll save that for another time. Bye for now!

Love you,
Costa