Saying goodbye is difficult. Saying goodbye to a child whose life ended much too soon is something that cannot be described with words. This week, Amani Eduardi, along with three of his friends living on the street, traveled by bus to Dar to try life there. Dar is a much bigger city where more money can be made. All of the kids had been to the center but Amani had spent the most time there. This whole year he’s been in and out, in and out. At some point he’d always return a few months later after running back to the street. I don’t know Amani’s story, but I felt like I knew who he was for the short period he stayed (one month at a time).
Amani, fourteen, died in a bus accident this week. His friends survived. I look at his photograph and feel beaten. I wanted him to have so many things and for some reason I always hoped he would pull through. Life is not easy here and it’s sometimes possible to lose sight of that. It’s terrible to think that more kids I know might die before me, might die before adulthood. I feel sick and shocked and saddened all at once so that it makes me not feel anything. I know Amani had a difficult life but he was always so appreciative and joyful. His eyes expressed such raw emotions that can’t possibly be revealed unless someone has experienced so much they do not have the energy to consciously conceal their state of mind.
To Amani Eduardi I say: I’ll miss you. I’ll miss seeing you. I’ll miss drawing with you; spending time with you. I hope you found some peace in your last few moments and I hope you know you will be remembered. Most of all I hope you know this is not your fault. While many people look down on children living on the street, I admire you for escaping a situation that felt unsafe. Not everyone is brave enough to do that. And I admire you for still embracing your childhood after everything that happened. I wish you could have grown up and finished school. I wish you could have had many things. I’m glad I got to meet you and I’ll be thinking of you.
I’m not sure what I believe in; all I know is that I don’t know much at all. I think atheists are as stubborn as fundamentalists, and stubbornness never solved anything. If I believe in one thing, it’s that a person’s spirit stays with us long after they’re gone. I think it’s what you do with this person’s influence that determines whether you’ll continue to change your life for the better. Amani: we’re thinking of you and you are loved.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Blog Update: Cheeky rat invasion and other news
Our house has turned into a fancy campground. And by this I mean that we haven’t had power in 4 days so all six of us are sharing the propane stove. On the plus side we are really contributing to the East African candle and match industry. A big percentage of Tanzanians don’t have electricity so I’m a wuss to complain but I’m spoiled and appreciate the spoils I’m spoiled by. The dogs have chewed a giant hole where the butt goes on the hammock and we also have a massive colony of rats living in our roof that sounds like WWF-Rat at night. We wanted to believe it was lizards, but no. Apparently, the bastards have been playing with the wires attached to the electricity meter accelerating the measuring process, which explains why our electricity bill was so high last month.
Luckily when the fundi was over at the house investigating the rat sabotage situation, me and my new roommates Max and Zahra went for a hike in Marangu (a village at the foot of Kili.) It’s a lot cooler up there and very green, with banana trees and coffee plans everywhere. The waterfall we hiked to (Nduru) with a guide named Frank, was really beautiful. We walked through residential areas first with small farms and then reached the top of the river valley where there were some hiking sticks. Other than a german couple we passed on the way down, we were the only ones there. The jungle was so beautiful colored with every different type of green you can imagine. The way down was pretty steep and on the way back I felt like I might pass out with the altitude change. It was raining off and on during the hike, which felt really wonderful to walk in. The rain let up when we reached the 80 or so foot fall where we decided to go swimming. The water was cold but bearable and swimming under the fall made my heart beat and beat and beat faster than I can remember.
Amani update:
This week is my last week at Amani without my replacement. Scary! I’ve been so sad for months thinking about this but now I actually feel ready to move on. This week was fun- we drew hippos and watering holes and street scenes. I’ve learned a lot and love many of the kids but I’m burnt out. I’m unsure about the future. I do feel like I am much more creative now, or can at least think of new ideas quickly. I applied for a job in Arusha and got an email last week about having an interview but don’t know how I feel about it. I also don’t really have a desire to live in Arusha. Anna has become a really amazing friend here and is like a sister to me so I’ll be incredibly sad to say goodbye to her. Either way I’d really like to do more with street children issues in Tanzania and would love to come back and do some research in Dar sooner rather than later. My dream would be for someone, maybe me maybe not, to develop a drop-in center for street kids where they can get a shower, rest, eat a meal, and play some games. It would be great too if there was an addiction specialist and a psychologist- I would want any kid to be able to come in off the street but in order to use the facilities they’d have to talk to the psychologist first. I don’t know how realistic that is. There should also be some first aid supplies and someone there to chaperone sick kids to nearby clinics for malaria/STI tests. I would also want a literacy program and some vocational training classes. This is just the dream in my head but there is really no place like this in this area.
In other news my darling Ibrahim Simon came back on Thursday. I didn’t want to come in because some of the kids have been so rude lately, but when Anna called to tell me he was back it was a no-brainer. I had written him a letter and we ate juice and cookies together. This probably isn’t really encouraged since the kids are usually punished for running away but he’s a child and I love him. (I’m starting to wonder if I’ll be a kind of crappy social worker). Anyways, Anna took him to the clinic the next day and it turns out he has really bad malaria from a week sleeping out on the street so it’s good she caught it in time. David, the kid with the toxic urine, actually has schistosimasis (SPPPP), the disease you get in poorer countries from bugs that live in dirty water crawling into intact skin, etc. So it turns out those idiots at the clinic didn’t need to order all those shots for him. The nurses were terrible at giving him his injections and used the biggest needle I’d ever seen on any child or adult, jammed right into the vein. Poor David was miserable and I wanted to body slam the nurse who told him there was no reason he should be crying. Another one of the kids has had swollen limbs and especially feet for the past few months especially and when I asked him, he said it’s been bothering him for a year. The clinic gave him medicine, which of course hasn’t been working, so he needs to go to KCMC for more tests this week with Anna. It’s possible his liver is failing. We hope it’s not too serious, but something is really wrong with him.
Anna has been working incredibly hard and I really feel like she is sort of taken advantage of as a volunteer. She’s the nurse right now! She, another volunteer Peter and I were all talking and we’re interesting in setting up a dental fund for the kids. This wasn’t very well received but I really think it should be implemented. It was all Anna’s idea after she took a kid to what sounds like the worst dentist ever and instead of doing a root canal for 70,000 shillings they pulled his tooth out for 2,000 because Amani couldn’t pay. Of course, they numbed his tooth and didn’t wait long enough so the numbing kicked in after the agony. There’s also another girl that needs braces and more kids that need teeth pulled. The kids don’t have any annual dental check-up at all, and many of their teeth are deteriorating due to poor water quality in villages and in Arusha.
Unfortunately, on Friday when I took a day off because some of the kids’ behavior has been truly awful, a girl who had been kicked out of Amani and sent home to her village showed back up at the front gates. Because she abused the other children she is not allowed to come back to Amani but apparently told Anna that her family murdered her grandmother in front of her and then blamed her when the police showed up. Both she and her family have serious mental problems so I’m not sure how much to believe, but whatever happened she is traumatized and alone with nowhere to go and no school or home that will take her. As Anna said, her life is ending in her early teens and it’s awful. No matter what she’s done, it’s an injustice that help cannot be found and I’m fearful that she’ll turn to prostitution.
That's it for now...the new art volunteer gets here this week! Crazy. Tomorrow I'm going on a home visit with a social worker to see where my best friend Zacharia is from. I love love love him and I'm a little apprehensive about seeing his home situation. I hope it's not too disheartening.
Hope everyone is enjoying the fall...
Luckily when the fundi was over at the house investigating the rat sabotage situation, me and my new roommates Max and Zahra went for a hike in Marangu (a village at the foot of Kili.) It’s a lot cooler up there and very green, with banana trees and coffee plans everywhere. The waterfall we hiked to (Nduru) with a guide named Frank, was really beautiful. We walked through residential areas first with small farms and then reached the top of the river valley where there were some hiking sticks. Other than a german couple we passed on the way down, we were the only ones there. The jungle was so beautiful colored with every different type of green you can imagine. The way down was pretty steep and on the way back I felt like I might pass out with the altitude change. It was raining off and on during the hike, which felt really wonderful to walk in. The rain let up when we reached the 80 or so foot fall where we decided to go swimming. The water was cold but bearable and swimming under the fall made my heart beat and beat and beat faster than I can remember.
Amani update:
This week is my last week at Amani without my replacement. Scary! I’ve been so sad for months thinking about this but now I actually feel ready to move on. This week was fun- we drew hippos and watering holes and street scenes. I’ve learned a lot and love many of the kids but I’m burnt out. I’m unsure about the future. I do feel like I am much more creative now, or can at least think of new ideas quickly. I applied for a job in Arusha and got an email last week about having an interview but don’t know how I feel about it. I also don’t really have a desire to live in Arusha. Anna has become a really amazing friend here and is like a sister to me so I’ll be incredibly sad to say goodbye to her. Either way I’d really like to do more with street children issues in Tanzania and would love to come back and do some research in Dar sooner rather than later. My dream would be for someone, maybe me maybe not, to develop a drop-in center for street kids where they can get a shower, rest, eat a meal, and play some games. It would be great too if there was an addiction specialist and a psychologist- I would want any kid to be able to come in off the street but in order to use the facilities they’d have to talk to the psychologist first. I don’t know how realistic that is. There should also be some first aid supplies and someone there to chaperone sick kids to nearby clinics for malaria/STI tests. I would also want a literacy program and some vocational training classes. This is just the dream in my head but there is really no place like this in this area.
In other news my darling Ibrahim Simon came back on Thursday. I didn’t want to come in because some of the kids have been so rude lately, but when Anna called to tell me he was back it was a no-brainer. I had written him a letter and we ate juice and cookies together. This probably isn’t really encouraged since the kids are usually punished for running away but he’s a child and I love him. (I’m starting to wonder if I’ll be a kind of crappy social worker). Anyways, Anna took him to the clinic the next day and it turns out he has really bad malaria from a week sleeping out on the street so it’s good she caught it in time. David, the kid with the toxic urine, actually has schistosimasis (SPPPP), the disease you get in poorer countries from bugs that live in dirty water crawling into intact skin, etc. So it turns out those idiots at the clinic didn’t need to order all those shots for him. The nurses were terrible at giving him his injections and used the biggest needle I’d ever seen on any child or adult, jammed right into the vein. Poor David was miserable and I wanted to body slam the nurse who told him there was no reason he should be crying. Another one of the kids has had swollen limbs and especially feet for the past few months especially and when I asked him, he said it’s been bothering him for a year. The clinic gave him medicine, which of course hasn’t been working, so he needs to go to KCMC for more tests this week with Anna. It’s possible his liver is failing. We hope it’s not too serious, but something is really wrong with him.
Anna has been working incredibly hard and I really feel like she is sort of taken advantage of as a volunteer. She’s the nurse right now! She, another volunteer Peter and I were all talking and we’re interesting in setting up a dental fund for the kids. This wasn’t very well received but I really think it should be implemented. It was all Anna’s idea after she took a kid to what sounds like the worst dentist ever and instead of doing a root canal for 70,000 shillings they pulled his tooth out for 2,000 because Amani couldn’t pay. Of course, they numbed his tooth and didn’t wait long enough so the numbing kicked in after the agony. There’s also another girl that needs braces and more kids that need teeth pulled. The kids don’t have any annual dental check-up at all, and many of their teeth are deteriorating due to poor water quality in villages and in Arusha.
Unfortunately, on Friday when I took a day off because some of the kids’ behavior has been truly awful, a girl who had been kicked out of Amani and sent home to her village showed back up at the front gates. Because she abused the other children she is not allowed to come back to Amani but apparently told Anna that her family murdered her grandmother in front of her and then blamed her when the police showed up. Both she and her family have serious mental problems so I’m not sure how much to believe, but whatever happened she is traumatized and alone with nowhere to go and no school or home that will take her. As Anna said, her life is ending in her early teens and it’s awful. No matter what she’s done, it’s an injustice that help cannot be found and I’m fearful that she’ll turn to prostitution.
That's it for now...the new art volunteer gets here this week! Crazy. Tomorrow I'm going on a home visit with a social worker to see where my best friend Zacharia is from. I love love love him and I'm a little apprehensive about seeing his home situation. I hope it's not too disheartening.
Hope everyone is enjoying the fall...
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Hearts and Health
The Big Picture:
My departure is becoming more real. And I’m scared. In some ways I’m looking forward to certain things. I started making a list to give myself a more positive perspective: being able to talk to friends on the phone or in person, seeing doctors who don’t ask me for gifts from America, smoothies and sandwiches and driving and bookstores. Pie. Sterilized bathrooms and doctors’ offices. I’m still scared, but it helps. Today is October 2nd and the new art teacher at Amani arrives October 15th. I’m terrified of this because it will make my departure real. The kids will know I’m leaving them and I don’t want to. I know at some point, I have to move on. I have to get paid and be an adult. I do get tired and burnt out here more intensely than in the U.S. but I feel like I live here now. My life is here and it will be so hard to pack up and go. I want to come back as soon as I can, but still it will never be the same as living here. There have been times where things have been really difficult at work and just day-to-day, but in some days I feel like I’m just getting started. I look around at the kids and think, what will I do when I have to leave you? Life will certainly feel emptier. Multiple kids have become like surrogate children to me. It’s beautiful but heartbreaking to be told I am their mother. I hope to be in a loving relationship some day and I would be surprised if I didn’t adopt, but right now, in these moments, being with these children is enough. I feel guilty for leaving. I like myself less.
The thought of going back to the U.S. (so far away) where I may not find a job is difficult as well. Even so, I’m thankful I’m not from here. Maybe that sounds awful. It’s incredibly beautiful and resourceful and conservative and I want to come back immediately, but life here is incredibly hard. Kids begin to scrub and soak and carry bucketfuls of water on their heads by the time they are in preschool. It’s a wonder they don’t have arthritis by the time their twenty. And the women. The women are one thousand times stronger than I am or ever will be. Imagine giving birth eight times with no option of pain killers, ever. Eight sets of arms and legs and shoulders. Eight little donut-shaped butts to clean. Seventy-two months of pregnancy. PREGNANCY. Cleaning, cooking, children, farming, sewing. It’s really close to incredible. It’s hard to keep in mind the big picture and stay positive when I know how hard it will be to break away, but at least if I have to leave I can appreciate my luxuries a little more.
*****
Updates:
This week was a mighty long one. Since the nurse is not here for three weeks, my friend Anna has taken her place. Mind you, she’s a volunteer. She’s been working twelve-hour days and on Tuesday I helped her to take eight kids to the clinic for malaria tests, stomach spasms, etc. Along with that, today we went back to the clinic with kids (but really, Anna has had to go multiple times a day every day this week). Did I mention, she’s a volunteer? One kid’s urine is so toxic he has to get shots twice a day. I don’t know how that happened but he has lived on the street for a while. His friends also all went back to the streets and took his clothes, so he now owns one Bart Simpson t-shirt and one incredibly tight pair of blue pants that look like they are for someone half his size. The storekeeper at Amani is out of pants and shirts for the older kids so I gave him a pair of sweats I don’t really need. The injections look so painful and he’s so tough, yet he still asked me at the end of the day today when the toys and games would be taken out again. He’s still a child inside.
Anna and I went to immigration today since some agents stopped by Amani to check our papers, and we both realized that even though we have resident permits we don’t have the resident stamp you need inside your passport. Bleh. By two o’clock all was well as we were heading back to Amani along the main highway from town when we saw one of the Amani boys walking down the road. Anna miraculously spotted him so we turned the taxi around and got out to talk with him. I talked to one of the street educators over the phone hoping he would have some words of advice for Frank but he was busy at the main hospital and instead told me “You know what to do, you can do it.” This was a little overwhelming. This is not my culture or my language. I don’t know what it’s like to be a Tanzanian boy without a family. The taxi driver helped us talk him into going back to Amani and Frank admitted he likes school (and is a great artist). At first he was pretty against the idea but slowly started to warm up. Apparently he was fighting with another boy who hit him. Who knows what really happened, but I do know his eyes looked very lost. Two younger boys left earlier this week, which has been really difficult. I love them both, and one in particular, Ibrahim, is the most well-behaved, kindest child at Amani. He’s young and scrawny and kids pick on him because he is so helpful to teachers. The thought of him out on the street is painful. Every morning he would greet me with a big hug and a “Good morning, Whitney!”. I don’t know what happened, but something must have gone wrong to force a child to leave his home and his school. He absolutely loves being in school. Frank claimed he knew where the two boys were so we turned the taxi back around and went into town to explore. I know one of the boys (Bahati…which ironically means lucky) living on the Moshi streets, who is sadly very addicted to glue and will probably stay on the street for years to come. He came to Amani once this year but only lasted a week, and considering there is no drug rehabilitation program in this country for any age group, he doesn’t have a lot of hope. I visit him sometimes and buy him bread or juice. He only looks around ten but I’m sure he’s older. Anyways, he and his friend Nemes were the only ones we saw, and I had already visited them this week to look for the two missing boys. There’s been no sign of Ibrahim or his friend Baracka, but I am thinking of them constantly and hope to see them soon. *
All and all it was quite a busy day/week and ended with me holding Zacharia’s hands as Peter, another volunteer, drained a giant sore in his knee. At this point at Amani, I am closest to Zacharia. He’s fourteen and came to Amani around the same time I did. His father is abusive and his mother is blind but his energy is so contagious and his love of life. He’s my friend and my family and I would give my life for him if it came down to it. I love him with my whole heart and that’s not an easy task. I remember reading this quote once that said something like children teach you how to love and how much love resides within you to share with others. It’s very true.
Oh also! I saw a monkey at my house in the front yard for the first time. And a wonderful little kitten who I was hoping to take home and feel sardines and milk too was taken by a crazy man. The kitten followed me home from the garden down the road from our house and I was trying to get him to jump in my purse since he was scared of our dogs but alas, he was captured.
* Anna and I went to Arusha for the day on Saturday with our new roommates. We saw former Amani kids who live in Arusha now (they’ve graduated), but no sign of Ibrahim or Baracka.
My departure is becoming more real. And I’m scared. In some ways I’m looking forward to certain things. I started making a list to give myself a more positive perspective: being able to talk to friends on the phone or in person, seeing doctors who don’t ask me for gifts from America, smoothies and sandwiches and driving and bookstores. Pie. Sterilized bathrooms and doctors’ offices. I’m still scared, but it helps. Today is October 2nd and the new art teacher at Amani arrives October 15th. I’m terrified of this because it will make my departure real. The kids will know I’m leaving them and I don’t want to. I know at some point, I have to move on. I have to get paid and be an adult. I do get tired and burnt out here more intensely than in the U.S. but I feel like I live here now. My life is here and it will be so hard to pack up and go. I want to come back as soon as I can, but still it will never be the same as living here. There have been times where things have been really difficult at work and just day-to-day, but in some days I feel like I’m just getting started. I look around at the kids and think, what will I do when I have to leave you? Life will certainly feel emptier. Multiple kids have become like surrogate children to me. It’s beautiful but heartbreaking to be told I am their mother. I hope to be in a loving relationship some day and I would be surprised if I didn’t adopt, but right now, in these moments, being with these children is enough. I feel guilty for leaving. I like myself less.
The thought of going back to the U.S. (so far away) where I may not find a job is difficult as well. Even so, I’m thankful I’m not from here. Maybe that sounds awful. It’s incredibly beautiful and resourceful and conservative and I want to come back immediately, but life here is incredibly hard. Kids begin to scrub and soak and carry bucketfuls of water on their heads by the time they are in preschool. It’s a wonder they don’t have arthritis by the time their twenty. And the women. The women are one thousand times stronger than I am or ever will be. Imagine giving birth eight times with no option of pain killers, ever. Eight sets of arms and legs and shoulders. Eight little donut-shaped butts to clean. Seventy-two months of pregnancy. PREGNANCY. Cleaning, cooking, children, farming, sewing. It’s really close to incredible. It’s hard to keep in mind the big picture and stay positive when I know how hard it will be to break away, but at least if I have to leave I can appreciate my luxuries a little more.
*****
Updates:
This week was a mighty long one. Since the nurse is not here for three weeks, my friend Anna has taken her place. Mind you, she’s a volunteer. She’s been working twelve-hour days and on Tuesday I helped her to take eight kids to the clinic for malaria tests, stomach spasms, etc. Along with that, today we went back to the clinic with kids (but really, Anna has had to go multiple times a day every day this week). Did I mention, she’s a volunteer? One kid’s urine is so toxic he has to get shots twice a day. I don’t know how that happened but he has lived on the street for a while. His friends also all went back to the streets and took his clothes, so he now owns one Bart Simpson t-shirt and one incredibly tight pair of blue pants that look like they are for someone half his size. The storekeeper at Amani is out of pants and shirts for the older kids so I gave him a pair of sweats I don’t really need. The injections look so painful and he’s so tough, yet he still asked me at the end of the day today when the toys and games would be taken out again. He’s still a child inside.
Anna and I went to immigration today since some agents stopped by Amani to check our papers, and we both realized that even though we have resident permits we don’t have the resident stamp you need inside your passport. Bleh. By two o’clock all was well as we were heading back to Amani along the main highway from town when we saw one of the Amani boys walking down the road. Anna miraculously spotted him so we turned the taxi around and got out to talk with him. I talked to one of the street educators over the phone hoping he would have some words of advice for Frank but he was busy at the main hospital and instead told me “You know what to do, you can do it.” This was a little overwhelming. This is not my culture or my language. I don’t know what it’s like to be a Tanzanian boy without a family. The taxi driver helped us talk him into going back to Amani and Frank admitted he likes school (and is a great artist). At first he was pretty against the idea but slowly started to warm up. Apparently he was fighting with another boy who hit him. Who knows what really happened, but I do know his eyes looked very lost. Two younger boys left earlier this week, which has been really difficult. I love them both, and one in particular, Ibrahim, is the most well-behaved, kindest child at Amani. He’s young and scrawny and kids pick on him because he is so helpful to teachers. The thought of him out on the street is painful. Every morning he would greet me with a big hug and a “Good morning, Whitney!”. I don’t know what happened, but something must have gone wrong to force a child to leave his home and his school. He absolutely loves being in school. Frank claimed he knew where the two boys were so we turned the taxi back around and went into town to explore. I know one of the boys (Bahati…which ironically means lucky) living on the Moshi streets, who is sadly very addicted to glue and will probably stay on the street for years to come. He came to Amani once this year but only lasted a week, and considering there is no drug rehabilitation program in this country for any age group, he doesn’t have a lot of hope. I visit him sometimes and buy him bread or juice. He only looks around ten but I’m sure he’s older. Anyways, he and his friend Nemes were the only ones we saw, and I had already visited them this week to look for the two missing boys. There’s been no sign of Ibrahim or his friend Baracka, but I am thinking of them constantly and hope to see them soon. *
All and all it was quite a busy day/week and ended with me holding Zacharia’s hands as Peter, another volunteer, drained a giant sore in his knee. At this point at Amani, I am closest to Zacharia. He’s fourteen and came to Amani around the same time I did. His father is abusive and his mother is blind but his energy is so contagious and his love of life. He’s my friend and my family and I would give my life for him if it came down to it. I love him with my whole heart and that’s not an easy task. I remember reading this quote once that said something like children teach you how to love and how much love resides within you to share with others. It’s very true.
Oh also! I saw a monkey at my house in the front yard for the first time. And a wonderful little kitten who I was hoping to take home and feel sardines and milk too was taken by a crazy man. The kitten followed me home from the garden down the road from our house and I was trying to get him to jump in my purse since he was scared of our dogs but alas, he was captured.
* Anna and I went to Arusha for the day on Saturday with our new roommates. We saw former Amani kids who live in Arusha now (they’ve graduated), but no sign of Ibrahim or Baracka.
My beef with the Peace Corps Tanzania
I have to say, without trying to be a rain cloud, Peace Corps people (at least in this country) really rub me the wrong way. I know that that’s pretty much a gross generalization, blah blah blah….but I don’t care. They always try to play the p-card (p as in poverty) “oh my life is so tough I live in a village.” Dude. You get stipends, you get to travel, you get time off, you get paid thousands of dollars at the end. The villages (at least the ones I know about) are incredibly beautiful. I’m not playing the p-card and I drained the majority of my savings to come here. It sucks but the sacrifice was worth it. I think I’m mainly just annoyed because they act like an elite club and isn’t that the opposite of the point PC is trying to make? I also am not really a fan of JFK’s foreign policy (Bay of Pigs, anyone? Anyone?), which I always think of when I think of the PC (since he started it). Maybe they’re apples and oranges, whatever. So yea, I’m a little biased. At least it exists and they try to do wonderful things and no one’s perfect, lord knows.
I’m sure this sounds bitchy but imagine you’re me. You’ve lived here for nine months- not an eternity but not a tourist jaunt. Enough time to grow a baby inside your phantom uterus. You work with locals, you speak the language and you’ve finally stopped getting harassed in town because you look like you know where you’re going (oh sweet sweet victory!). It just makes it doubly insulting when these Peace Corps people who have been “at the site” for three months think they know how it all works here and say, like tonight, talk on and on in my face drunkenly about how tough they are. I mean, just because I’m white and not PC I don’t know what I’m doing? It’s also insulting to the people that live here. A person can live in a village for two or three years here and still not fully know what life is like for the people living in these isolated rural communities. Maybe they’ve lived there, but have they grown up there? Have they made families there? No. It’s possible I’m just bitter because when I meet PC volunteers they always assume I’ve only been here a few weeks and I always want to tell them to shut their pie hole. I guess it’s just frustrating because you can make a difference anywhere, it doesn’t have to be in East Africa or Southeast Asia, and it doesn’t have to be with the poorest of the poor. But if all people get out of helping others is bragging rights, then what’s the point? If that greater message is missing, then it’s all in vain. I feel pretty proud sometimes that I’ve gone out into the streets and met kids and criminals. I love that some of the Amani kids have become my best friends (and they’re fourteen). It feels liberating to bridge those connections, but I also think it’s so so important to keep in mind that what I feel lucky for is this window of observation and eventual interaction that I’ve been granted. In no way can that experience be romanticized because the lives of the kids, the criminals, the scavengers, are their own. Others can’t claim them. And the Peace Corps, volunteering, it’s definitely romanticized. If I don’t come out of my experience with a greater understanding of the unknown, then the lesson has been lost. If all I think about it is me and what I’ve done at the end of this, then I’ve failed. That’s not the point. I think the point is gaining a greater understanding of the human condition, of the relationships we make, the lives of others and what we choose to do in those seconds before our choices are made.
I’m sure this sounds bitchy but imagine you’re me. You’ve lived here for nine months- not an eternity but not a tourist jaunt. Enough time to grow a baby inside your phantom uterus. You work with locals, you speak the language and you’ve finally stopped getting harassed in town because you look like you know where you’re going (oh sweet sweet victory!). It just makes it doubly insulting when these Peace Corps people who have been “at the site” for three months think they know how it all works here and say, like tonight, talk on and on in my face drunkenly about how tough they are. I mean, just because I’m white and not PC I don’t know what I’m doing? It’s also insulting to the people that live here. A person can live in a village for two or three years here and still not fully know what life is like for the people living in these isolated rural communities. Maybe they’ve lived there, but have they grown up there? Have they made families there? No. It’s possible I’m just bitter because when I meet PC volunteers they always assume I’ve only been here a few weeks and I always want to tell them to shut their pie hole. I guess it’s just frustrating because you can make a difference anywhere, it doesn’t have to be in East Africa or Southeast Asia, and it doesn’t have to be with the poorest of the poor. But if all people get out of helping others is bragging rights, then what’s the point? If that greater message is missing, then it’s all in vain. I feel pretty proud sometimes that I’ve gone out into the streets and met kids and criminals. I love that some of the Amani kids have become my best friends (and they’re fourteen). It feels liberating to bridge those connections, but I also think it’s so so important to keep in mind that what I feel lucky for is this window of observation and eventual interaction that I’ve been granted. In no way can that experience be romanticized because the lives of the kids, the criminals, the scavengers, are their own. Others can’t claim them. And the Peace Corps, volunteering, it’s definitely romanticized. If I don’t come out of my experience with a greater understanding of the unknown, then the lesson has been lost. If all I think about it is me and what I’ve done at the end of this, then I’ve failed. That’s not the point. I think the point is gaining a greater understanding of the human condition, of the relationships we make, the lives of others and what we choose to do in those seconds before our choices are made.
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