I have added more photos on Facebook. The public link is here:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.930508596152.2432370.124748&l=b6fe6b32ed
and I have added a page above entitled "See For Yourself" with links to all the photos I have posted thus far. Thanks for looking!
Monday, July 4, 2011
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Anniversary
One year ago today, my plane landed in Mali. Little did I know what difference a year would make in my life.
Now, I am going to be honest and say that I have been having a rough go of things lately. I am going to make this post honest, and hopefully "honesty" will not turn into too much of a synonym for "negativity". But, consider the following statement:
"This country is not a country where you can dream."
A complete stranger with whom I struck up a conversation on a bus made this statement to me. It's not entirely inaccurate, as much as I wish it were.
Fact: Mali is a developing country. All the adorable children and funny dance moves you see here don't change that. They certainly make this experience more enjoyable, but they don't erase the reason why I am here. Most of the population of Mali is what your average Joe would consider "poor" and are in need of a lot of help. There is no room for dreaming when all your efforts to make a living never seem to be enough. You get by, but barely.
There is poverty in America, certainly. (And let me just say, this last year has certainly made me more patriotic. Not in the "protect and serve" way, but in a "being here has made me realize how lucky I am to have been born in a country like the United States" kind of way. After really seeing life here, I am unabashedly grateful to be American.) There is inequality and suffering in each of the 50 states, yes, but most Americans also grow up with the understanding that if you work hard and take school seriously, you can move yourself in any way your heart desires. Money (or lack thereof) doesn't need to be the definition of who you are. Here it often is.
It's easy to get annoyed with the strangers and friends who ask for money, food, or the clothes you happen to be wearing that day; but can you really blame them? When developed countries have spent billions of dollars on foreign "aid", is it any wonder that Malians see in us white folks a chance to score a free meal or toy car? The Malian higher-ups (government officials, those employed by NGOs; both of these types live in my small village) rake in money from Western countries to spend more or less as they see fit; it's not part of their job description to encourage the average Malian to get creative in improving their own lives. Rather, they must build things and have meetings. (Really.) I can't say I blame them for not trying. Every day I attempt to inspire someone is a frustrating one.
My homologue refuses to be involved in any projects that are not funded by Peace Corps or me, privately. (Small victory: after a recent tearful two-hour argument, at least she understands the difference between those two money sources.) The village chief will not allocate space for a trash pit; all he has to do is point to a spot on the ground and a team will do the rest...and yet, nothing. And what a surprise it is when the sweeping initiative I started (meaning, village sanitation) is abandoned by the women. "If we got paid, we would sweep more!" Work ethic skyrockets when money is involved; the project is suddenly much more beneficial if the participants are getting paid.
When things like this happen, I can't help but think that I am failing at my job. My inner monologue goes something like, "If only I spoke Bomu better, or visited my friends' homes more often, or read more health texts, I would be a better development agent. People would listen to me more. I could communicate my ideas better." And so on and so forth. But really, look what we are up against. Years of money pouring into Mali and dozens of other poor countries, and not much to show for it. Now, I still believe that development is a career worth pursuing (and indeed I intend to, at least at this point), but unfortunately not because this experience has shown me "what a difference one person can make" and inspired me to change more lives. Moreso because I see that the system is inherently flawed and needs people to improve it.
The children of Mali don't need some 23 year-old American coming into their classroom to teach them about malaria. (Well, I take that back. They do. People still think it is transmitted by eating from dirty dishes.) But what they need more is a government to invest in their education. They need teachers who care and don't just think the children can't learn; they need to be in classes smaller than 120 students (really, even 50 per class would change things drastically). They need a government that is realistic about how bad things really are. If they had this, maybe our town mayor would not have spent money to build an (expensive) wall around his office instead of hiring an additional teacher. They need development agents like World Vision to understand why it makes no sense to build a new school building when there are no teachers to fill the classrooms. They need health center staff who do not refuse to counsel the mother of a severely malnourished baby because "they don't offer that service on Wednesdays." None of this is okay. And at this point, I feel like there is nothing I can do about it.
I am certain that my life here would be easier if I "cared" less or thought about things less. If I just went ahead and gave my village what they ask for. I could apply for PC funding to build a vaccination hangar. (And don't get me wrong; I am not saying that PCVs who do funded projects are in the wrong or don't care!) But let me clarify: a vaccination hangar would not improve the quality of services. The vaccinator (with whom I work with every Wednesday) would not treat the women better, and he would not roll his eyes any less when I tell him, "This woman's child is underweight. She needs someone to counsel her in infant nutrition". This is why i don't budge. I will not apologize to anyone for not doing what PC considers a "real" project, ie one that involves money. When I ask the health center staff about the biggest problems affecting their community and they reply malaria; when I ask them what kind of projects they would like us to do, they ask me to pay for a sign for the center or to fund the construction of an unnecessary hangar. Again, see their expectations? After five years of Peace Corps Volunteers in my village, the same problems persist.
Despite all this, at least for now, I have not given up hope. Let me justify my recent pessimism: in recent memory my illnesses have included strep throat, intestinal parasites, severe dehydration, food poisioning, and a debilitating cold. A house that gets dirty ten minutes after you clean it. Endless laundry to be done by hand. Heat (hot season is over, thankfully), getting peed on by a cat in my sleep (yep), my wallet getting stolen, and my neighbor cutting down my tree while I was out of town. And this is the stuff I can deal with. It's tough being sick or robbed, but I can deal with that at the end of the day. It is a lot harder to accept feeling like all your efforts are falling on deaf ears.
I am still trying to figure things out. Although I don't think two years will change much in little old Fangasso, I am hopeful that things are generally heading in the right direction. This last year has flown and dragged, and along the way I am have met some of the most wonderful people I know (and here I am referring to Americans). This group of wonderful misfits are doing good work, and I hope that I may be considered one of them. Your thoughts are welcome, as always.
I continue to miss my family and friends. And food! Although, if Chipotle could write me a letter every once in a while telling me how it is doing, maybe it wouldn't be so hard. I miss a comfortable lifestyle. But, despite everything, please believe me when I say that I am happy here. Not going anywhere. Really! See you in Septmber 2012.
Virginia
PS: Photos from a Christmas hike to Dogon country in northern Mali:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.930452787992.2432333.124748&l=4606440b20
and
general photos from 2010:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.774174485962.2391758.124748&l=5ced82671c
More to come soon! Both links are public; no Facebook login required.
Now, I am going to be honest and say that I have been having a rough go of things lately. I am going to make this post honest, and hopefully "honesty" will not turn into too much of a synonym for "negativity". But, consider the following statement:
"This country is not a country where you can dream."
A complete stranger with whom I struck up a conversation on a bus made this statement to me. It's not entirely inaccurate, as much as I wish it were.
Fact: Mali is a developing country. All the adorable children and funny dance moves you see here don't change that. They certainly make this experience more enjoyable, but they don't erase the reason why I am here. Most of the population of Mali is what your average Joe would consider "poor" and are in need of a lot of help. There is no room for dreaming when all your efforts to make a living never seem to be enough. You get by, but barely.
There is poverty in America, certainly. (And let me just say, this last year has certainly made me more patriotic. Not in the "protect and serve" way, but in a "being here has made me realize how lucky I am to have been born in a country like the United States" kind of way. After really seeing life here, I am unabashedly grateful to be American.) There is inequality and suffering in each of the 50 states, yes, but most Americans also grow up with the understanding that if you work hard and take school seriously, you can move yourself in any way your heart desires. Money (or lack thereof) doesn't need to be the definition of who you are. Here it often is.
It's easy to get annoyed with the strangers and friends who ask for money, food, or the clothes you happen to be wearing that day; but can you really blame them? When developed countries have spent billions of dollars on foreign "aid", is it any wonder that Malians see in us white folks a chance to score a free meal or toy car? The Malian higher-ups (government officials, those employed by NGOs; both of these types live in my small village) rake in money from Western countries to spend more or less as they see fit; it's not part of their job description to encourage the average Malian to get creative in improving their own lives. Rather, they must build things and have meetings. (Really.) I can't say I blame them for not trying. Every day I attempt to inspire someone is a frustrating one.
My homologue refuses to be involved in any projects that are not funded by Peace Corps or me, privately. (Small victory: after a recent tearful two-hour argument, at least she understands the difference between those two money sources.) The village chief will not allocate space for a trash pit; all he has to do is point to a spot on the ground and a team will do the rest...and yet, nothing. And what a surprise it is when the sweeping initiative I started (meaning, village sanitation) is abandoned by the women. "If we got paid, we would sweep more!" Work ethic skyrockets when money is involved; the project is suddenly much more beneficial if the participants are getting paid.
When things like this happen, I can't help but think that I am failing at my job. My inner monologue goes something like, "If only I spoke Bomu better, or visited my friends' homes more often, or read more health texts, I would be a better development agent. People would listen to me more. I could communicate my ideas better." And so on and so forth. But really, look what we are up against. Years of money pouring into Mali and dozens of other poor countries, and not much to show for it. Now, I still believe that development is a career worth pursuing (and indeed I intend to, at least at this point), but unfortunately not because this experience has shown me "what a difference one person can make" and inspired me to change more lives. Moreso because I see that the system is inherently flawed and needs people to improve it.
The children of Mali don't need some 23 year-old American coming into their classroom to teach them about malaria. (Well, I take that back. They do. People still think it is transmitted by eating from dirty dishes.) But what they need more is a government to invest in their education. They need teachers who care and don't just think the children can't learn; they need to be in classes smaller than 120 students (really, even 50 per class would change things drastically). They need a government that is realistic about how bad things really are. If they had this, maybe our town mayor would not have spent money to build an (expensive) wall around his office instead of hiring an additional teacher. They need development agents like World Vision to understand why it makes no sense to build a new school building when there are no teachers to fill the classrooms. They need health center staff who do not refuse to counsel the mother of a severely malnourished baby because "they don't offer that service on Wednesdays." None of this is okay. And at this point, I feel like there is nothing I can do about it.
I am certain that my life here would be easier if I "cared" less or thought about things less. If I just went ahead and gave my village what they ask for. I could apply for PC funding to build a vaccination hangar. (And don't get me wrong; I am not saying that PCVs who do funded projects are in the wrong or don't care!) But let me clarify: a vaccination hangar would not improve the quality of services. The vaccinator (with whom I work with every Wednesday) would not treat the women better, and he would not roll his eyes any less when I tell him, "This woman's child is underweight. She needs someone to counsel her in infant nutrition". This is why i don't budge. I will not apologize to anyone for not doing what PC considers a "real" project, ie one that involves money. When I ask the health center staff about the biggest problems affecting their community and they reply malaria; when I ask them what kind of projects they would like us to do, they ask me to pay for a sign for the center or to fund the construction of an unnecessary hangar. Again, see their expectations? After five years of Peace Corps Volunteers in my village, the same problems persist.
Despite all this, at least for now, I have not given up hope. Let me justify my recent pessimism: in recent memory my illnesses have included strep throat, intestinal parasites, severe dehydration, food poisioning, and a debilitating cold. A house that gets dirty ten minutes after you clean it. Endless laundry to be done by hand. Heat (hot season is over, thankfully), getting peed on by a cat in my sleep (yep), my wallet getting stolen, and my neighbor cutting down my tree while I was out of town. And this is the stuff I can deal with. It's tough being sick or robbed, but I can deal with that at the end of the day. It is a lot harder to accept feeling like all your efforts are falling on deaf ears.
I am still trying to figure things out. Although I don't think two years will change much in little old Fangasso, I am hopeful that things are generally heading in the right direction. This last year has flown and dragged, and along the way I am have met some of the most wonderful people I know (and here I am referring to Americans). This group of wonderful misfits are doing good work, and I hope that I may be considered one of them. Your thoughts are welcome, as always.
I continue to miss my family and friends. And food! Although, if Chipotle could write me a letter every once in a while telling me how it is doing, maybe it wouldn't be so hard. I miss a comfortable lifestyle. But, despite everything, please believe me when I say that I am happy here. Not going anywhere. Really! See you in Septmber 2012.
Virginia
PS: Photos from a Christmas hike to Dogon country in northern Mali:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.930452787992.2432333.124748&l=4606440b20
and
general photos from 2010:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.774174485962.2391758.124748&l=5ced82671c
More to come soon! Both links are public; no Facebook login required.
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