Compassionate Witness

Amazing

2011-06-20T07:52:00.001-07:00

My taxi brusse ride stopped for awhile last night and when it came back these animals were on top of the van. As we began moving they would sometimes scream. It reminded me of The Silence of the Lambs. Goats have a very specific scream. Like a woman about to be murdered.

As I sat there, looking at the stars and listening to Malagasy soft rock, I felt so lucky to be there. It is like there are several worlds and before I only had seen one.

Back in Madagascar!

2011-06-20T07:41:00.000-07:00

After two months in Niger, one year in Madagascar and then six months in the USA....I am back in Madagascar! I am here six weeks--one month of teaching and two weeks of vacation/karaoke.

It is truly a gift to be able to go back and forth between cultures. It allows my mind to integrate the information from both cultures in a more meaningful way. More to come. But I will say this: the longer I am here (three weeks so far) the less I want to go back (to the USA). There are people I want to go back to, but culturally I feel nervous.

The flow of life is much more natural here, it feels more human and that is something I find difficult to part with.

Motherhood in the United States

2011-03-28T21:04:00.001-07:00

At some point in my early twenties I realized that I didn't have to have kids--that it wasn't required--and since then I have been thinking it over. It was in Madagascar that I decided having kids was for me.........yet after only four months in the United States I find myself feeling afraid of having children. Why the change of heart?

Let's see....

In the United States you have to carry toys, food, clothes, car seat and so on every where you go.

In Madagascar your baby is on your back.

In the United States you are judged if your baby cries for more than two seconds.

In Madagascar babies cry sometimes.

In the United States you must breastfeed in secret because boobs are just too pornographic to show.

In Madagascar you can breastfeed anywhere around anyone as it is the most natural thing in the world and clearly nonsexual.

In the United States you have to explain to your children why you are saying no.

In Madagascar you have authority over your children and no is no.

In the United States you watch your children alone in your house and are a wimp if you need help.

In Madagascar you raise your children with the neighborhood women.

In the United States you leave your child at daycare when you work or you stay home alone with them all day.

In Madagascar you take your child with you (at a fruit stand) and spend the day with other women who also have babies.

In the United States you have to pay for a babysitter and you aren't supposed to rely on other people much to raise your children.

In Madagascar you can expect the full support of your family and friends including free 'babysitting'.

In the United States you can't physically discipline your children you must politely verbalize everything.

In Madagascar you can swat your kids to show them you are serious. (It works too).

In the United States you treat your kids like siblings.

In Madagascar you are allowed to be the alpha dog of your kids.

In the United States kids have adult supervision at all times.

In Madagascar it is OK to leave kids alone with each other even at young ages.

Having kids seems a lot natural in Madagascar than it does in the United States.

Even my cat looks different to me.....

2011-03-14T21:44:00.000-07:00

This last weekend I reunited with my cat Daisy Face. I had not seen her in 18 months. During the ten years that I have had Daisy she has slept on my feet--so we are quite close in that odd cat-human way. One might say that we love each other. Indeed, I have composed songs for her and use a voice with her that I do not use for humans or even babies.

I missed Daisy quite a bit but I think it is now safe to say that she missed me more. Last night I woke up several times to cat kisses (sand paper) on my arm. At one point she was holding my hand (no lie) with her little paw. She refuses to go outside and only wants to sleep on my bed. When I first picked her up from the lovely people who were watching her she ran to me from the driveway dramatically!

She may also be feeling a little bit insecure these past couple of days because I think my general vibe toward animals is a little bit more Malagasy than it used to be. Stores like Petco don't make as much sense to me. I say things like, "She'll eat it if she's hungry" about toddlers, let alone animals. Malagasy people certainly have pets and love their pets but it isn't quite to the psychological heights that we often understand pets in the US. It is a bit more like a farm cat or farm dog.

That said, I still love Daisy Face and she still loves me. It was a very sweet reunion and I am sure our love with only grow stronger with time as I remember the joys of snuggly sweet loving Daisy Face!

Readjustment Reflections...

2011-02-20T22:20:00.001-08:00

They say that readjusting to life in the United States is actually
harder than adjusting to life in Peace Corps. I disagree. I
suppose it is harder if you are expecting it to be seamless--which is
what many volunteers expect. I think it is also harder if you are a
younger volunteer--because you come back and find that your friends
are now in mid-adulthood and when you left they were l playing video
games and cramming for finals. Essentially you are thrown into a
period of life that is weird no matter what (the few years after
college graduation). In my case I am finding this process much
easier, though less gratifying, than adjusting to life in Madagascar.

One important thing to note is that the Peace Corps volunteer fantasy
of talking nonstop about your experiences does not happen. Don't
expect it. It won't happen. And just know that it will be a weird
process full of mind blowing trips to seven eleven. It is a good idea
to have a job and living situation set up before you return to the
United States. I'm sure the readjustment process is harder depending
on how long you are in Peace Corps as well as how rural your post was.
But if you plan a few months to take it easy (not work too much) and
integrate your Peace Corps life with your US life--you'll be fine!

It has been over two months for me and although I still don't feel
normal, I feel fine. It's more the sense that I don't fit in as well
as I used to (and let's face it, I never fit in that well). I'm okay
with that. In the words of Gertrude Stein, "We grow neither better
nor worse as we grow old, but more like ourselves."

What Not To Wear Challenge: Is White Skin Is The Most Powerful Accessory?

2011-02-14T00:05:00.001-08:00

DRESSING SHABBILY IN PEACE CORPS! I FEEL SO FREE! AND SO WHITE?
Peace Corps volunteers, generally speaking, experience aesthetic freedom abroad. We wander around the host countries dressed like shit. We shouldn't. It is considered disrespectful and we just don't realize it. But we do. We feel so free without the pressures of American appearance. We don't have movies, friends, magazines and billboards constantly telling us we need to look this way or that way. Another significant reason we look so shabby is that we are adjusting to doing laundry by hand and to shopping from second hand piles of clothes. This is really a factor. (Most) Malagasy people know how to frip shop and do laundry by hand. Indeed, washing clothes by hand is part of our technical training. I was a very slow learner. It is harder than it sounds. Finally, it must be said, having white skin connotes status in many (all?) countries and we rely on that (whether we admit it or realize it) to counteract our pathetic appearance--if we happen to be white. So like most volunteers, I was pretty shabby looking in Peace Corps. It is all true. The freedom from feeling judged by the US culture aesthetically. The disorientation of buying and cleaning clothes. The reliance on skin color to communicate professionalism (wow).

MINIMALIST LEANINGS IN THE US! WAIT, BUT ARE THESE PANTS A GOOD REPRESENTATION OF WHO I AM?
When I first returned to the US, and to this day, I have simply asked friends if they have extra clothes they want to get rid of. Of course, in the United States, everyone has a garbage bag or two of clothes they don't care about. I have been wearing these rejects and feeling like I look great. My clothes are newish, freshly laundered and so on. I marveled at the laundry machine. It has been two months since I got back. My perception of my garbage bag wardrobe is slowly changing. I am starting to think about how the clothes represent who I am. "Is this shirt me?" No. It is a shirt. You are you. Material goods will never represent who I am nor do they need to. They simply need to function.

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?

It says something that I want to dress more nicely in the United States than in Madagascar. I certainly think the United States culture prizes physical appearance and encourages the spending of money on appearance. This pressure affects all of us. But I also must wonder, who is it that I want to impress here that I didn't want to impress in Madagascar? I wonder, was it a latent show of disrespect that I dressed so shabbily? I don't like thinking that but not liking it doesn't make it false. Even more so, and certainly true, it was a conscious understanding of how much power my skin held. I didn't have to dress to impress. I was white. Being white connoted wealth, education and intelligence. It also connoted snobbery, arrogance and pompousness. Either way--it was nonstop specialty treatment. I am still white but it feels more secondary now. In Madagascar I felt white all day long. Even in my dreams I knew I was white. I relied on the status my skin color. I used it. I totally did. It is rude to use your skin color as an accessory.

Adjustments (To the US of A)

2011-02-13T23:40:00.001-08:00

I can't squat here, it is considered rude. My first week at work (in a bookstore) I found myself squatting--I mean really squatting down to the ground--to shelf the books and I realized that squatting isn't acceptable in the United States. i could just kind of feel that I was doing something culturally weird. You also can't sit on the floor unless you are a child or a teenager. I am short. Chairs are too tall for me. I like to sit on the floor. I like to sit low down, squatting or on a low step. I like to squat. Chairs are smaller in Madagascar. I am smaller too and it fit me better.

It is freezing cold. When I am outside, my entire body seizes up as if to say, "Get inside now you are going to die." I often think of how societies, technologies and cultures have evolved based on the weather. It is something I can consider for hours.

We become outraged if we have to wait but in actuality everything in the US happens very quickly. The odd part is that even though everything is quite efficient I absolutely feel that I have less time in the United States. I find myself running errands that don't make sense but are part of life. For example, I had to reschedule a standardized test I am taking because I was sick and on pain medication (the kind that makes you foggy). In order to reschedule my test I had to go to the doctor (again), get a note and then fax it to the testing center in some other state. Why? In Madagascar I once ran out of money because I didn't realize that there was a 10,000 ariary minimum in your bank account. I was planning to use that 10,000 until my pay day. So there I was--no money and out of food. I met with the manager of the bank and told him I needed the money (that was mine--the 10,000) because I needed to buy food and didn't know about that rule. He puffed on his cigarette, listened to me (probably in shock to see a foreigner in financial distress) and gave it to me. I thanked him. Both were annoying errands--but in Madagascar I was taken at my word. I think a lot of errands in the US are ridiculous side effects of our rigidity.

I took an online personality test for a job I applied to. One of the trick questions was about whether or not you like to nap. I am pretty sure you were supposed to say that you don't like naps, or at least you shouldn't strongly agree that napping is awesome. Really?

The bus is never full. And in Utah people don't use public transportation like they do in bigger cities. It is often considered low class. So there I am on a super fancy heated 40 seat bus with three other people.

In Madagascar I had this delusional feeling that I was more in touch with the poor (or regular) people. I guess when you join Peace Corps you are just picturing it that way--that you will be working with the regular people and not with the people who are 'better off.' For a long time, I specifically avoided making friends with higher class Malagasy people. What misguided sense of reality or duty fostered this I cannot say. I did like the openness it created inside of me--the desire to connect and to not judge people based on their income. I really didn't judge people because they were poor. It felt beautiful and it changed the way I interacted. The judging of higher class people is something I look back on and sigh--because they often reached out to me more, I think because in a country like Madagascar educated people feel a certain togetherness. I see nothing wrong with this now. In the United States I make no effort whatsoever to be in touch with the poor (or regular) people. Somehow in my mind it made sense to me in Madagascar but in my own country I feel distant from people who I can tell are really poor. Why? I am polite, sure, but I feel distant. I judged higher class Malagasy people for distancing themselves from "the countryside" or the more poor people (which, it must be said, was a more compassionate judging than in the US because people don't tend to see poverty as self determined). I judged people for seeking me out because I was foreign and educated. And yet here I am in my own country doing the same thing. How many judgements will it take for me to realize that judging someone is like throwing a blanket on top of them. You only see your blanket. You don't see the person at all.

THE TRUTH COMES OUT.......Peace Corps Journal Entries

2011-02-10T00:47:00.001-08:00

I thought it could be interesting to share some of my journal entries from my Peace Corps service to give a sense of what it is I wrote while I sat at epiceries around the country drinking cold cokes all afternoon. Don't worry, I won't share anything that should make you uncomfortable—I'll keep the extra juicy stuff to myself! Oh, and pay no attention to how dramatic I am. I was born that way. :)

August 21, 2009

I got my invitation. Niger. October 17th. What have I gotten myself into? I wish I was jealous of someone else doing this—Niger. What was I thinking? I'm terrified. I need to do some mega thinking about this. I need to find a way to think about this that calms me down. This is the wildest thing I've ever done BY FAR. This is the grand prize winner for Monica's outward manifestations of her inners. This is totally insane and unreal and unthinkable. And it is 100% totally real. I'm going to Niger in less than two months. I must go and fetch the water, 'til the day that I am grown.

November 16, 2009

When I can finally speak Hausa (the language) what pray tell will the millet woman and I talk about? Maybe I need to stop looking for a friend and start just trying to help because I've been through 18th grade and if I can't do something meaningful with that much education then what on earth is it for? I saw a chariot spider today. It is the biggest spider I have ever seen in my entire life that was not in a cage. And I imagine them everywhere. In my bed, for example.

December 31, 2009

My face is growing wings.

February 21 2010

Today I tried to walk around the town and the smells of the city made me sick. It's ugly to me all of the sudden. Like I am seeing it for the first time. It's so poor. There is garbage all over. There are people everywhere in tattered clothes with no shoes on. This is my new home for the next two years. It's so poor. I fantasize about the United States sometimes. How clean and nice everything is. I had no idea. The way I see the world has been permanently altered. I need to be open and aware so that I can process the million things I have seen in the past few months that I have never seen before. It's overwhelming. I feel like a spy from the first world. I feel like I felt when I left for college—seeing a whole new world and feeling the destruction on my previous world view. Maybe that's why I am shaky because I am between beliefs. I am totally confused. I know nothing and experience things everyday that are unknown to me.

February 21 2010

What am I doing here? Tomorrow I will wake up again. Things will be better.

March 18, 2010

Not much time on this laptop battery. No electricity or running water for me nowadays. Living in a new house in a smaller town, on the outskirts of the city I was just living in. I have been in Peace Corps for almost five months and have not actually worked yet. Not really. It feels weird. The idea of being in the Peace Corps is so much more exciting than actually being in the Peace Corps in some ways. It is a good thing. But I am not helping anyone. Yet? I hope it is a matter of it just not happening yet. There is a leper colony nearby where I live. There is an albino woman and child in this town. When I first saw them I gave them a "we are both white" look and the boy knew I looked at him that way, I can tell he isn't sure why white people look at him that way. People live in houses that are ten feet by ten feet. People are barefoot everywhere. Strangers say my name and greet me like I am a celebrity. Although the other night, while cooking by candle light, I danced to music and felt total joy. I danced around the house in a way that I have not done since I was in early Jr. High. I did ballet moves. Things you would never do if anyone was there. Things that happen when you are seriously by yourself.

March 27, 2010

I can't believe this is my life. It is really not working for me at the moment but I have a special department in my psyche whose primary duties are to talk me out of quitting the Peace Corps. So their committee, as you can imagine, infiltrates any skepticism I feel for Peace Corps. I have no privacy whatsoever. None. I feel like I am at work all the time. Always. I cannot speak Malagasy and it is a problem. I could do so much here, already, I would be working—but I can't talk. I do nothing.

April 13, 2010

I have read many books since I came to my own 'village' in Peace Corps. Yesterday I read a book that was six hundred pages. I am not a fast reader (because I say the words out loud in my head as I am reading) (because I like words). Out of uncertainty about what else to do, and an intense desire to escape my environment, I read almost nonstop. This reading, which reached its apex last night, is excessive to the point of making me wonder if I oughtn't either study literature or become a novelist. I have, of course, never even come close to writing a novel. My writing skills have improved over the years due to academic papers and exhaustive and private journal entries. I have never even come close to creating a character—unless you would consider that character me. And on that note sometimes I think that is exactly what journals are—a presentation of myself as a character to myself so that I can understand what on earth is going on. In other words, I have been reading a lot. Some would say too much.

April 20, 2010

A few days are all I will remember when I am 100 years old. Some of those days will be among the most despairing and devastating of my life. Other days will be sweet candle lit soft smelling memories like snuggling with my dog as a teenager. There will be brightly lit memories too—of 3am falafel in New York City. There will also be memories of my dreams. Things I never did but wished to do. It is this 100 year old woman that I answer to. If I concentrate I can hear her voice telling me what to do.

April 29, 2010

I got so depressed in the capital city, Antananarivo, this last visit there that no part of me wanted to come back to my "town." The imagined stress that return would incur was just too much. And I wasn't wrong. Even in the dark, as the sun was gone, children called to me through my window and scared me to death. "Monica" emphasis moe-knee-kah. I am starting to hate my name.

At this point I do these things in Peace Corps: Read novels (very little nonfiction), pull water from a well, pee and poop in a chamber pot, shower with a bucket in a wooden enclosure covered in bird shit, cook…. I guess it sounds nice but I admit to this day I find almost all of it utterly disorienting.

August 14 2010

This is why I love to move and travel. Since October my mind, soul and heart have—like the Grinch—expanded to the point where they do not fit inside of my body anymore. At ever life stage I see new things because I am at a different level of maturity. It is a blessing that I feel so happy now.

August 26 2010

Today the students begged me to stay for four years so I could help them get masters degrees by being an advisor. I guess they don't really have advisors—or the ones they have only come up a few times a year. Apparently there is a waiting list of some kind.

September 3 2010

The world is as small or as big as I am.

My hope can be silent, shy, overwhelmed, humiliated

It can also be a marching band downtown

I have been disappointed in my intellect and my heart

When they are confused

When they cannot integrate the data sets

Of my soul

And what my eyes simply see

It's too big and too small

Too complicated and too simple

The evolutionary history of planets

The what and the why

My whole self

A traced and trained psychology

Feeling so deeply and so clearly at times

Ultimately confused

I wake up thinking every morning

Aftertaste of dreams

Some times anxious

31 years old

When I was 22 I knew almost nothing

The space between my mind and my experience

Was more expansive than the multiverse

The feeings, so primal, from my upbringing

Were tightly tucked together

Hidden even from me

My sensitivity has peaked, I am more alive now

I can see now the size of my own history

September 13 2010

A guy just bought a beer, opened it, got in his car, took a drink and drove off beer in hand. Ah, Madagascar. The US is so…………..legislated.

(Later that day)

I get to thinking sometimes that nothing matters when the opposite is true. Everything matters. And, the world changes every day. I know I am not brilliant. I know I am just a regular person. But I have education and have been empowered. I have wealth and freedom and am obligated to give back.

September 25 2010

I made a baby cry in the market today. I smiled at the baby and it started to cry. I am certain it was my skin color. Maybe that's how racism starts. Disoriented babies.

October 23 2010

Short term job ideas: African bike tour cook, Antarctica sous chef, something with scientists, teaching English somewhere like the middle east, backpacking tour guide, African or middle eastern NGO, supervisor for study abroad

November 1st 2010

I feel like I could eat a house.

October 8 2010

I never write about Madagascar. So how is Madagascar? Madagascar is good. I feel largely useless here or confused about 'helping' or sharing culture. Is it just my 'white guilt'? I wonder what it feels like to be 3rd world. I wonder. Life is always complicated. No matter where you live or what you believe. Madagascar doesn't need me. Neither does the US. But here I am, born nonetheless with an adventuresome spirit living a life.

October 20 2010

I picture my facebook lists of music and books

I picture myself shopping at target

I picture myself judging republicans

I picture myself

In the united states

Watching oprah at the gym

I have compassion for the woman I picture

But she is a stranger

Forgotten

In the absence of the united states

My opinions are soft now, baby birds

Their roots exposed

My preferences are meaningless now, little buds

My decisions, my divisions, my traits, my personality

Irrelevant now

Simplified, filtered, clarified

In the absence of the united states

My borders are open now

My opinions are like memories

Or half remembered dreams

I had it all organized in the united states

A cohesive intellectual and emotional

Sequence

Everything in its place

Solidified

Now I can't find anything

My judgments feel like paper tigers

In the wake

Of so much

My limits are not what I thought

Like skin they stretch

Pregnant by experience

People will politely ask me someday

What was peace corps like?

I will say

It was neat and I will wonder

Can they see the stretch marks on my eyes?

The knowing that on the deepest level

My only response

My only judgment

My only opinion is

Confusion and awe

Discovered at an epicerie in Madagascar and under a Nigerien sky

My sense that at my root

That is who I am

And that the only feeling I trust

Is love

Malagasy Music Video

2011-01-20T12:05:00.001-08:00

Now that I am in the United States I can use youtube and I found this great music video which was filmed in Diego (where I was living in Madagascar). The island you see was right next to the university and the market you see is the market I shopped at. The dancing you see is the dancing I came to know and love and it is the same dancing I will likely try to employ the next time I am in a dance situation.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ulkcbXDvK0

Enjoy!

Englihisy

2011-01-19T22:53:00.000-08:00

French is widely spoken in Madagascar. Like Spanglish (a mixture of English and Spanish) in the United States, Madagascar has its own unique blend of French and Malagasy.

I was recently wondering what an English and Malagasy mixture might look like and I think it would go something like this.

All we really need to do is make all of the worords longerer and thenenen add some 'y's and a's toa the endsy and it willillillilla have a Malagasy flairairy and styly to it.

I also think there will be a definite need to add the breathed 'h' (surrounded by vowels) into the mihix as well.

Other suggestions?

Preferences

2011-01-10T12:18:00.000-08:00

I have been back in the United States for one month. Only one month ago I was able to be impressed fairly easily by things. If a restaurant had a toilet I thought that was pretty cool. If there was toilet paper I was a bit disoriented. If there was a full sink I would plan to go there to wash my hands. I even had a system of understanding the grades of latrines. When I flew on Air Madagascar I was impressed by the pre-packaged nuts onboard. In short, I was satisfied easily and my preferences were at very easy to please levels.

It wasn't always that way. My first months out of the United States were spent largely feeling nagged by preferences. I wished things were nicer, easier, cleaner and so on. I missed what I had come to prefer. And I had to realize that my preferences were just that--before I left the United States I thought many of my preferences were needs.

Fast forward to my re-entry into the United States.

At first I felt overwhelmed by it all. All of the roads, powerlines, cars, buildings, concrete--and everything is nice. Even McDonalds. Every bathroom is perfect and if it isn't you can be outraged.

But slowly I feel myself developing preferences. I want this type of shampoo. I just like it better. I want this type of shirt. I just like it better. I want this seat on the near empty train. I just like it better. I want this meal. I just like it better.

And then sometimes when I cant have what I just like better I feel put out. Because somewhere in my mind I am already forgetting the difference between a preference and a need. It is something to keep track of I think.

Aside from shelter and food, the only other thing I actually need is love. Luckily I have had all three in Niger, Madagascar and the United States.

As for my preferences, I can accept them so long as they are kept in perspective, so long as I don't begin to believe that they are anything more than that.

I Love America

2011-01-05T19:49:00.000-08:00

It was brought to my attention today that there now exists in the United States something called Dental Spas. In addition to dental work, they massage your head, neck and hands.

The Peace Corps Diet*

2011-01-02T21:37:00.000-08:00

People join Peace Corps for a lot of reasons--most commonly a desire to help and a sense of adventure.   One reason people don't join Peace Corps (that I know of ) is to diet.   However, based on my personal experience The Peace Corps Diet is a rock solid approach not only to weight loss but also to a new perception of food.

In writing about readjusting to life in the United States I would be not telling the whole story if I didn't mention how food and eating has been one of the largest adjustments so far.

In both Niger and Madagascar, I was very rarely satisfied by the food I ate on a 'that was delicious' level.   I was, however, getting all of the nutrients I needed. Because food didn't delight me in the way that I was used to, I did not eat as much.   My bodies reaction to not eating as much (and not eating American foods) was to lose 30 pounds.   No diet, no therapist, no reiki, no hypnosis, no surgery, no positive thinking--just a physical reaction to eating healthy foods in appropriate proportions.   This is not uncommon in Peace Corps for people who have some weight to lose.

So now I am in the United States. My new eating patterns happened out of force and I didn't really think about it much (except to fantasize about foods I missed).   Many volunteers plan out their first few meals in the US but I was afraid of American food. I was afraid I would love it and that I would simply revert back to a lifestyle where I ate too much and where I ate foods that are not healthy.

To my delight the opposite has been true.

I mean nothing rude in this, as I understand it completely, but I can assure you that Americans eat too much in general.   Eating at a regular restaurant is too much.   It is too much food.   Everywhere I turn people are offering me food. Everywhere I go you can buy food. Every meal I am served is 2-3 times larger than I need. Food, Food, Food.

The challenge I suppose is to continue to refuse the gigantic portions in an effort to preserve my health.

My perception of food is different. I see food as nutrition instead of as recreation. The amount of food I eat depends is based on when I feel satisfied and full--not on how delicious the food is. I allow myself to become hungry--and actually have a stomach growling--regularly instead of preemptive feeding as though the experience of hunger is unacceptable. I remember feeling hunger regularly in Madagascar and Niger and it is a normal feeling (I think) when you are not eating too much at every meal.   I can also recall large spans in my life in the US where I never experienced the sensation of hunger at all....because I was so consistently well fed.

I think I always enjoyed being a little bit 'bigger' in the US as a way to show solidarity with women--to distinguish myself from not being the type of woman who is weight obsessed and constantly dieting. This is another change of perception--which is that my health is not a political message. It is my health.   Size may have implications in our society, that is sure, but I cannot jeopardize my own health and call it feminism.

These changes are not necessarily indicative of Malagasy peoples perception of food--rather it is the my US/American reaction to the new diet.   This doesn't top the charts in terms of great things about Peace Corps--but in these first few weeks (especially as it has been the holidays) it has stood out constantly as I tried to eat normally (what had become normal to me) and found that my new eating patterns were totally at odds with the culture.   We always hear that Americans are bigger and eat too much and its true. Our whole culture is tapped into eating unhealthy foods in large portions.   I knew that before but now I know it--and I can 100% see myself as a participant.   I have eaten unhealthy foods in large portions my entire life....wow.   Unlikely lessons from Peace Corps....

*Some volunteers gain weight, it must be said.   Although in my group most volunteers either stayed the same (because they were already fit) or lost weight (if they had some weight to lose).

So how do you re-adjust?

2010-12-19T11:35:00.001-08:00

I am now in the United States of America....and have been for one week. I plan to keep blogging for a little while.

This first week has been interesting. Before I left Madagascar, I did two very important things: 1) I secured a short-term job that started immediately 2) I skimmed a book about readjusting from time spent as an expatriate (cannot recall the title)

I am working at the best bookstore in the world--a bookstore I worked at many years ago. Instead of being overwhelmed by Wal-Mart and other big box stores (which I can assure you are incomprehensible after shopping at an outdoor market for so long) I am simply putting away books and enjoying the second-hand knowledge this fosters. Also, without something to do for a few hours a day I would have more time to just feel "weird" as one returned Peace Corps Volunteer described. She said, "Don't stress out. Sometimes you are going to look around a room and just feel weird." If I had nothing to do all day except browse jobs on craigslist I am sure I would be in a different mood.

I also skimmed a great book which gave some wonderful advice. It said that one of the hardest parts of returning from living overseas is that you expect other people to be endlessly fascinated by your journey AND at the same time you find their lives boring. In other words, you are an asshole while thinking other people are not paying attention to you. "I don't care about your life! Don't you want to hear another story about how it was in Madagascar!" So the book was my intervention and I have been focusing on asking other people what they have been up to. It has been working well. As far as Madagascar stories I do sneak them in in passing. It would be hard not to since it is my frame of reference right now.

As for reverse culture shock, that is happening in its own way. When I arrived in Niger I was in absolute culture shock. Everything was new to me I had to reorganize my entire categorization system to make room for how things looked. It is not like that now. I am familiar with everything. Yet, all day every day I notice things differently. Everything seems so rich, so full of concrete, so well timed, so organized and so mechanical almost. It is sort of like meeting an ex years later. They are familiar but you see them with new eyes. Things do not look the same to me. I guess I choose that comparison because I remember why the United States made sense to me, but at the moment it doesn't. I am more in touch with why I left. That said, I do not feel bitter or angry or judgmental. I feel like I felt in Madagascar. Receptive and confused. :)

Wrapping Things Up and Should I Join the Peace Corps?

2010-12-08T12:31:00.000-08:00

Well Folks, the time has come for me to return to the United States of America. That's right--I will no longer be living in Madagascar.......which has a lot of implications...including..I will no longer hear Waka Waka several times a day. I will also have to start wearing shoes instead of flip flops. No more friend bananas on the street--But I digress--I thought what would be best to write about is my first attempt at a question I will surely be asked for the rest of my life....

Question: Should I join the Peace Corps?

Answer: Yes. I think you should join Peace Corps. I would not recommend Peace Corps to most people but because you are a person who has seriously thought about it—I think you should definitely go. It is an experience you will not regret. You will have 10,000 experiences you would have otherwise not had. These experiences will permanently alter your understanding of the world for the rest of your life--in positive ways if you allow it. And yes, you will get a chance to ‘help’ or ‘work’ but not in the way you are imagining. I slept under the Nigerien sky and woke to moonlight. One of my female students said to me, “After that debate we did, it’s strange, but I am not as afraid to speak up to people.” Enough said.

One Family: It is kind of like love your neighbor but here it’s called it collectivism.

2010-11-30T02:46:00.000-08:00

Our culture is what we make it and our culture is going global. We are spreading American culture throughout the world with our companies and our media. Our business norms, our food, our language, our music, our films and even our porn—are all making their way around the world. One of my Malagasy students lent me The Dukes of Hazard with Jessica Simpson. In Madagascar, I am surrounded by 1980’s soft rock and also more contemporary music (Jason Mraz, Shakira). Those are two very small examples. And within all of these things our culture is reaching the world.

We say that the United States is an individualistic society. We speak of ourselves as independent autonomous human beings constantly. Indeed, cultural researchers have found the United States to be the most individualistic society in the world.

The question I ask myself is this: If US culture doesn’t even work for us (in the US) why would it work for everyone else? In the United States you don’t have to look hard to find someone who is isolated and in need of help.

We don’t speak of culture in terms of desire—we assume that culture is a fixed state: I have my culture and you have your culture. But it doesn’t work that way. The spread of Christianity and Islam totally transformed many ancient belief systems. In Madagascar, for example, animism and ancestor worship are being replaced by both Protestantism and Catholicism. Culture has always been changing. Culture is not fixed and people make decisions every day that determine their culture. In Madagascar, for example, every time a Malagasy person operates by International Business Standards—they are making the choice to adopt that culture. What did you do this morning? What were your priorities? What did you stop yourself from doing? We are all creating culture all the time. Think of it like nurture and nature. We do as our ancestors (nurture) and we also do as we must or can (nature).

So I ask the question: do we really want to embrace the level of individualism that we presently have in the United States? Do we really prefer a model where each person looks out for only himself or herself? Or would we rather begin respecting our elders? Would we like to go back to the days of being friends with our second and third cousins? Would we rather demand two months off a year from each and every job? Would we rather work for companies who understand that relationships are primary? There was a time in the United States when we were more collectivist than we are now. It is our choice what we embrace.

If we did become more collectivistic it needn’t be identical to the collectivism of other societies. It can be our special blend which leaves plenty of room for sayings like Follow Your Bliss and Find Your Passion—and indeed it will have a heavy dose of our favored political system capitalism. But just as we recognize that capitalism has its bounds and needs regulation—we can also recognize that unbridled individualism is not the be all and end all of human existence.

It might seem like an odd suggestion but I personally think a general shift in the direction of collectivism would do us all a lot of good. I love individualism as well—but I think it’s getting out of hand.

We need to help each other more. We need to watch out for each other more. We need to embrace what the Malagasy people call “one family” meaning that all fellow human beings are part of your family—people older than you are your parents or grandparents, people in your age range are your siblings and people younger than you are your children. It is kind of like love your neighbor but here it’s called it collectivism.

When I am not working, I play with chalk.

2010-11-06T11:11:00.000-07:00

Campus Life

2010-11-02T06:42:00.000-07:00

With my students.

Student dorms.

Outside my porch.

One Week Left

2010-10-24T05:43:00.001-07:00

The semester is almost over (well I call it a semester but it isnt
called that here). I have taught four classes since July to juniors
and seniors.

I think the biggest frustration I had was that my teaching materials
were all from an American or western perspective. It would have been
nice to have an intercultural communication textbook that was tailored
to my audience. Come to think of it, it would have been nice to have
a textbook. Even better, textbooks for my students.

The best part was being able to communicate ideas to my students. The
notion of ethnocentrism was really a hit among the students and I
could see them using it in their conversations and class discussions.
It is the kind of word that can be empowering. We talked a lot about
tourism. My students were pro-tourism because it brings money but on
some level anti-tourism because it harms culture. We talked about
that a lot. My understanding of tourism is totally changed, and I
hope they gained something from our discussions as well. I always
pictured myself as a single tourist--one person traveling. I never
considered what the steady stream of people like me can do to a
community. It isnt bad impact, necessarly; but it can be. My
students live in a tourist destination.

One of the most unusual things that happened was when a goat walked
through the classroom. Both doors were open, as they always are for a
breeze, and a goat walked right through the classroom and out the
opposite door. The day that goats in heat were outside the classroom
was less humorous. Goats make some crazy noises. Like screaming
people.

It was also awkward at times when students would ask me to define
words that dont normally come up in a classroom--like the f-word.
They were confused because they hear it in films in so many contexts.
It is a word with a million meanings and contexts. I said it was too
difficult to teach and that it wasnt a word you needed in business. I
also said, to give you a sense of this word--I would absolutely never
say it in front of my mother. I think they got it at that point. I
said it was the "worst" word to say in English. But then a few weeks
later someone asked me about the n-word. I had to eat my words, in
the wrong context I think the n-word could be the worst word to say in
English. Personally.

One day a student had read an article about Hurricane Katrina. In the
article it said something like, "most americans equate poverty with
lack of effort" meaning that in the US we blame poor people for being
poor. The article talked about how after Hurricane Katrina many
people had to rethink their position on poverty because so many people
were put into bad circumstances which were clearly and obviously
beyond their control. The student asked me what this meant and I
explained that he understood correctly--in the US we often blame the
poor for being poor. He said, "Im sorry, I just dont understand. How
can you blame a poor person for being poor?" It is a good question.
I explained to him how our concept of individualism and our belief in
equality make it difficult for us to view poverty as something one
cannot control. We know that people do not wake up one morning and
say to themselves, "I really want to be poor, that sounds like a lot
of fun. Worrying about paying my rent and feeding my children--bring
it on!" But we also believe that anything is possible if you work
hard enough (whether or not that is true, we believe it). So do we
blame the poor for being poor? Yes, I think we do. But we dont blame
the poor children, just the poor adults. He thought I was insane
trying to explain this. In Madagascar, if you are rich or poor, it is
because of your fate--which is directly linked to your ancestors and
to God.

I definitely think that I succeeded in giving the students the
vocabulary to describe their intercultural experiences and to describe
their culture. We learned about all the ways in which cultures differ
(values, communication, power, history, etc). This is really useful
because we often think people are rude or strange when really they are
just obeying the rules of their own culture. It was fun to share with
them stories about my Malagasy culture shock, "Really, are you going
to serve me more rice!" They liked to hear what it was like from the
outside looking in. I also had students talk about Malagasy culture
nonstop. I think this is useful in a lot of ways--partly because
culture can be invisible if you dont think about it. This is less
true in a country where you have such strong influences from tourists
and Western media--but it is still true. I also liked having the
students express their culture because they are afraid it is being
lost due to outside influences. We had a lot of conversations about
that which I think was useful.

For the last week of classes I will do a review of what we have
learned, possibly make tortilla chips and salsa for the class (if I am
not too lazy) and screen The Great Debators. I will also be sure to
give a little thank you speech and say something like, "Thanks for
sharing Malagasy culture with me even though I am a vahaza!"

In honor of my one year peace corps anniversary, I present the following essay...

2010-10-23T03:20:00.001-07:00

Nationalism by AC Grayling

Nationalism is our form of incest, is our idolatry, is our insanity.
`Patriotism' is its cult. - Erich Fromm

"Nationalism is an evil. It causes wars, its roots lie in xenophobia
and racism, it is a recent phenomenon - an invention of the last few
centuries - which has been of immense service to demagogues and
tyrants but to no one else. Disguised as patriotism and love of one's
country, it trades on the unreason of mass psychology to make a
variety of horrors seem acceptable, even honourable. For example: if
someone said to you, 'I am going to send your son to kill the boy next
door' you would hotly protest. But only let him seduce you with 'Queen
and Country!' 'The Fatherland!' 'My country right or wrong!' and you
would find yourself permitting him to send all our sons to kill not
just the sons of other people, but other people indiscriminately -
which is what bombs and bullets do.

Demagogues know what they are about when they preach nationalism.
Hitler said, 'The effectiveness of the truly national leader consists
in preventing his people from dividing their attention, and keeping it
fixed on a common enemy.' And he knew who to appeal to: Goethe had
long since remarked that nationalistic feelings 'are at their
strongest and most violent where there is the lowest degree of
culture'.
Nationalists take certain unexceptionable desires and muddle them with
unacceptable ones. We individually wish to run our own affairs; that
is unexceptionable. Most of us value the culture which shaped our
development and gave us our sense of personal and group identity; that
too is unexceptionable. But the nationalist persuades us that the
existence of other groups and cultures somehow puts these things at
risk, and that the only way to protect them is to see ourselves as
members of a distinct col¬lective, defined by ethnicity, geography, or
sameness of language or religion, and to build a wall around ourselves
to keep out 'foreigners'. It is not enough that the others are other;
we have to see them as a threat - at the very least to 'our way of
life', perhaps to our jobs, even to our daughters.

When Europe's overseas colonies sought independence, the only rhetoric
to hand was that of nationalism. It had well served the unifiers of
Italy and Germany in the nineteenth century (which in turn prepared
the way for some of their activities in the twentieth century), and we
see a number of the ex-colonial nations going the same way today.

The idea of nationalism turns on that of a 'nation'. The word is
meaningless: all 'nations' are mongrel, a mixture of so many
immigrations and mixings of peoples over time that the idea of
ethnicity is largely comical, except in places where the boast has to
be either that the community there remained so remote and disengaged,
or so conquered, for the greater part of history, that it succeeded in
keeping its gene pool 'pure' (a cynic might say 'inbred' ).

Much nonsense is talked about nations as entities: Emerson spoke of
the 'genius' of a nation as something separate from its numerical
citizens; Giraudoux described the 'spirit of a nation' as 'the look in
its eyes'; other such meaningless assertions abound. Nations are
artificial constructs, their boundaries drawn in the blood of past
wars. And one should not confuse culture and nationality: there is no
country on earth which is not home to more than one different but
usually coexisting culture. Cultural heritage is not the same thing as
national identity.

The blindness of people who fall for nationalistic demagoguery is
surprising. Those who oppose closer relations in Europe, or who seek
to detach themselves from the larger comities, to which they belong,
do well to examine the lessons of such tragedies as the Balkans
conflicts, or - the same thing writ larger - Europe's bloody history
in the twentieth century."

The Peace Corps Rollercoaster

2010-10-03T08:33:00.000-07:00

It is common knowledge in Peace Corps that every volunteer experiences “highs and lows.” Of course, all humans experience this—but in Peace Corps it is somewhat exaggerated possibly because you do not have your usual support system or culture to fall back into. You can be ready to quit Peace Corps in the morning and more committed than ever in the evening. A couple of days ago I experienced this observable fact.
LOW

In my intercultural communication class a few days ago I was teaching the concept of ethnocentrism and ethnorelativism. I described the stages of cultural understanding that many people go through as well as the stages of culture shock.

THE ETHNOCENTRIC STAGES: First, there is denial where the person has no true understanding of cultural differences and simply assumes that their culture is the best and most natural way of life. Then we have the defensive stage. In this stage the person becomes aware that other cultures exist but feels threatened by them. In this stage the person is defensive and antagonistic towards other cultures. They realize that there are other ways of living life but they clearly feel their way is best. Then we have the minimizing stage. In this stage the person, in order to curb their growing confusion and possible fear, reduces cultural differences to being trivial. This person says to herself, “People are all the same, culture isn’t really a huge thing.” All of these above stages can be described as ethnocentric. Meaning, your ethnicity/culture/way is seen as the center—seen as not only different but superior.

THE ETHNORELATIVE STAGES: The next stage is the acceptance stage. In this stage the person begins to recognize culture as deep and meaningful. This person does not change their behavior but has changed their mind—they acknowledge cultural differences and they experience genuine interest in culture. Then we have the Adaptation stage—in this stage the person modifies their behavior to the other culture. They are able to ‘adapt’ to new cultural situations with some ease. And the final stage is Integration. In this stage the person is so deeply affected by the other culture it becomes part of who they are. They integrate aspects of the new culture with their existing culture. Both (or more) cultures become part of who they are. They can move easily between cultures and do not experience feelings of superiority or inferiority. These are all stages of ethno-relativism—seeing your culture in relationship to other cultures and without a perception of superiority or inferiority.

So, I explain all of this to my class. We discuss where Malagasy people tend to fall. It is decided Malagasy people fall all along the spectrum. We discuss tourists. It is decided that generally tourists are in the “honeymoon” stage of culture shock and rarely proceed into deeper stages of ethno-relativism. Then we discuss the foreigners who live here. This was disturbing. Everyone agreed that they see stage one and stage two—but stage three onwards they said was likely, “Less than one percent” of foreigners who live here. I said, “That makes me sad.” Then a student asked me which stage I was. I said I wasn’t sure and that because my Malagasy language skills are so poor I felt that my true integration was hindered. That said, I (naturally) claimed a higher stage—I said, “Acceptance and adaptation, I hope.” Another one of my students laughed and said, “No, I think you are stage two.” The Defensive Stage. In that moment, it appeared unanimous that the class viewed me with the 99% of foreigners who never really integrate or develop a deep understanding of culture.

HIGH

That same night, feeling certain that all of my students perceived me as a misguided and pompous foreigner, I begrudgingly attended a debate session I had organized earlier in the week. In another class, my students really enjoyed our in class debates so we decided to do a public debate. I arrived early and found the debaters (who volunteered to do it for no academic reward) all dressed up with giant smiles on their faces. They were so excited—they were reading over their cases and there was energy in the air. We set up the debate and I gave them a final pep talk. They did an excellent job—they were prepared, clear, organized and intelligent. The people who came enjoyed the debate as well and the head of the school was pleased. He suggested we try to televise the debates at some point. After the debate, one young woman who I have noticed to be particularly motivated and bright asked the head of the department if they could start a debate team. She loved the experience of doing a public debate. You could see it in her eyes—and come to think of it, in class she is always the one who begins her comments with a polite, “I disagree.” The debaters were so engaged it made me feel good that I facilitated the moment.

So there you have it, in one day I was moved almost to tears twice: once because I felt like a colonizing jack ass and once because I felt like I had nurtured the intelligence of four young women. That night, while I was cooking rice and chopping up garlic and tomatoes—I marveled at how emotionally intense a day at work can be.

Northern Madagascar

2010-09-30T05:26:00.000-07:00

Music is Culture

2010-09-23T06:32:00.001-07:00

Sometimes as a teacher you have to recognize that it is time to spice things up in the classroom. That is why a couple of weeks ago, in my intercultural communication class, we discussed Music and Culture. We had already discussed (for days and days) Malagasy and American cultural values, so it seemed to me time to analyze some music through that lens. I had the task to choose some songs which I felt were good examples of American values and culture.

Frank Sinatra, My Way

I played the song and handed out a few copies of the lyrics. Immediately all of the students recognized how individualistic this song was. Of course, they liked it (who doesn't?!?!). I explained to them it is a popular song--indeed that most Americans love singing to this song imagining ourselves as living our lives MY WAY. We also discussed the theme of competition that is implied in the song.

NAS, I Can

With this song I talked about African American Culture. The students were interested to see that in African American culture there appeared to be a stronger tie to ancestry (which is huge in Madagascar) and
history. Also, they quickly pointed out the individualism inherent in this song and the optimism has an American ring to it. I can do whatever I want if I work hard! This song could not be more clearly
American and African American. We had a great discussion and learned a lot of new vocabulary works. It was decided right then and there that African American culture is an interesting blend of collectivism and individualism.

Garth Brooks, The River

A few students already knew this song. Country music is popular in Madagascar. We had a good time discussing the metaphor of the river and the shore and so on. The students quickly pointed out that this
song is a good example of how Americans typically embrace risk taking. They also said, though, that there are a lot of Malagasy songs which embrace the idea of having a dream.

Then it was their turn. About 12 students shared a Malagasy song. We all listened, they sang along a bit, and I tapped my toes like the dorky teacher that I am. Students explained how the songs related to Malagasy culture. There were songs about respecting elders, songs about community bonds, songs about people who leave Madagascar or abandon the Malagasy way--It was so interesting for me and I learned a lot. Wish y'all
could've been there.

TOP TEN ADJUSTMENTS TO UNIVERSITY ENGLISH TEACHING IN MADAGASCAR

2010-09-23T06:22:00.001-07:00

1. Using chalk. At the end (and in the middle) of every class my
hands, shirt and pants are all covered in chalk. And presumably my
rear end. I don't know for sure, but it seems likely that the chalk
I am using here is actually messier and dustier than chalk in the US.
It is as if a light snow covers each and every class.

2. Speaking English to ESL speakers. I am really good at speaking
English as a second language—that is to say I speak easy words if I am
knowing it is better for other person. I can listen to the words
they do and do not know and modify my vocabulary, and my tense,
accordingly. However, in my university classes I have to speak
proper English in an effort to model it. This is difficult for me
because I know that if I used my normal ESL they would understand me
more. But alas, I am supposed to be showing them the 'right' way.

3. Slow internet. Normally, I use the internet to double check facts
when I am preparing lectures—and in some cases to learn missing facts.
The internet here is so slow here that I often play 5-10 FreeCell
games before a page uploads. I play FreeCell between uploads because
if I don't I get irritated like I am stuck in traffic. The internet
here is also a very mysterious thing—sometimes it works and sometimes
it doesn't. Sometimes it is simply a slow connection while other
times I can wait an entire hour only to have absolutely nothing load.
They say that children raised in alcoholic homes develop irrational
belief systems about life because they are trying to create order out
of chaos. It could be said that the alcoholic internet here is making
me equally superstitious. I often attribute the slow connection to
the number of clicks I make, the speed of the wind outside, the time
of day or whether or not I play FreeCell.

4. Electricity blackouts. Not unlike the internet, sometimes the
electricity just doesn't work. In the US this happens too but it is
generally related to a major storm. Here the weather can be perfect
when it happens. There is no clear rhyme or reason—and I think it is
safe to say that an electrical line was not harmed during road or
building construction. So, sometimes I can use my laptop in class
and sometimes I cannot.

5. Copies. In the US I try to conserve copies for abstract and
environmental reasons. Here it is related more to the fact that the
entire department is using one small printer. In addition to this I
recognize that the cost of an ink cartridge in Malagasy Ariary (the
currency) is extremely expensive. So, I print one copy for myself
and then write it all on the board.

6. Defining English Words. Off the top of my head every day I must
define English words. The problem is this: I really like words and
I think about them too much. I am the type of person who will stop
mid-conversation and search for the perfect word. Even a thesaurus
is an interesting book for me—I can look at the related words and have
a whole conversation about how they are and are not similar to the
original word. Nuance. Context. Connotation. Language is truly
an amazing and complex thing! You can imagine the dramatic classroom
pause when asked to define "internalization" "encounter" "mystery"
"bastard" and "endemic". Sometimes it is difficult to explain because
I am searching for the easiest way to understand the word. And
sometimes, like an idiot, the only word I can think of is the word
itself. "Encounter. To encounter. It means….when you encounter
something." Sometimes the word takes me on a new journey. "To
externalize. To make something happen outside of its original
location. Outside. External. Internal, opposite. There are many
contexts for this word. A company can externalize its costs. A
government can externalize its costs. Let's talk about the global
economy and environmental degradation in the developing countries."
Needless to say, it may very well be only in my own mind that I am
teaching—because I am not speaking ESL and they are probably just
nodding politely. Teaching English is also a great way to realize
how much I do and do not know about my language. I cannot explain
grammar in any meaningful way. And oddly, I know the historical
context of quite a few words. And finally, there are a lot of words
that I consider so intrinsically themselves I can barely define them.

7. Teaching Culture. I am in a position of teaching intercultural
communication to a class made up of Malagasy students (and one from
Comoros). I am the only American in the room and they all share the
same overarching culture. Normally when I talk about intercultural
communication I have the secret goal of helping students to be more
open, more respectful and more receptive of other cultures. Put
another way, I like to challenge the belief that my way is the right
way. Put yet another way, I know y'all are American but sometimes
considering the validity of other countries and cultures is just the
right thing to do. So now I am in a country which has been exploited,
ignored and abused by foreign cultures. I still want to foster
'world peace and friendship' (Peace Corps Citation) of course, but the
Malagasy people have been understanding, receptive and respectful.
Indeed, it may even be the case that less receptiveness to outside
forces is in line. I don't really know—but I do know that aside from
refusing slavery (awhile back) the Malagasy people have been fairly
open to foreigners. Hm. This reminds me of Native Americans and
Thanksgiving dinner which was rewarded by small pox blankets and the
trail of tears. The truth is, historically speaking, being nice to
Europeans doesn't seem to get non-Europeans anywhere except for dead,
exploited or assimilated. But, that's all in the past. Right? For
those of you who think I am insane—don't worry. I promote 'world
peace and friendship' in the classroom. I just do it while asking a
lot of questions about Madagascar and Malagasy culture. I feel that
my sincere interest and respect is the only thing I can offer. And I
make it very clear that intercultural communication is about cultures
respecting each other. It is a two way street.

8. Office Supplies. I have one stapler and it is full of staples.
I use it sparingly. I have never seen staples in Madagascar. I know
they must exist but I don't know where you would buy them and the
chances are that as an imported good they are probably very expensive.
I reuse envelopes until they break. There is no Office Max and
there is no free supply closet. It is one of those things where
instead of being a problem—it simply makes me realize how much I
normally waste.

9. Time. Class starts at 7:30am every morning theoretically
speaking. One of my students has the key to the classroom. On
average I would say that the key holder comes around between
7:30-7:40. The rest of the students arrive by 8:00am. So, instead
of finding this irritating I have started showing up for class ten
minutes late. It's like being a student again! And I figure, when
in Rome. The way I see it, if we all keep coming later and later
eventually we won't even have class we can just meet for a few minutes
and exchange pleasantries. Just kidding.

10. Teaching without a class set textbooks. Or even a textbook for
myself. I have manuals which have been pieced together into an actual
course.

Things

2010-09-23T06:12:00.001-07:00

I thought I would take a moment to write about some things that I
thought I needed before I joined the Peace Corps. One of the most
common things people said to me when I left was about things. I
couldn't live without this or that. I won't pretend that it is easy
to get used to not having things. It isn't. Many an afternoon I have
done nothing but fantasize about things. Truthfully, I have missed
things as much as I have missed people. But I have had the
opportunity to live without a lot of things—and that has been
priceless.

In the US it is easy to develop strong preferences for things, or ways
of life, and to erase the word want from our vocabulary. I often
believed that I needed things when I simply wanted or preferred them.
Electricity, running water, television, freshly cleaned
clothes-towels-sheets-straight out of the dryer, my own seat on a bus,
a wide variety of foods, certain foods, foods made certain ways,
running shoes, clothes that fit me, clothes that I find cute, hot
water showers or baths, Kleenex, a closet of clothes, more than one of
everything, something new when the old thing works fine, special
toiletries, air conditioning, heating, news, current music or films,
washing machines, microwaves, diet coke, a car, cheese, a decorated
house, a comfortable bed, 7-eleven, TJ Maxx…

Right now I live in a bedroom with a bathroom. I share one set of
dishes with about six people. I have one towel and one sheet. I use
the same soap for everything. I wash and dry my clothes by hand. I
cook all of my meals from scratch. I have about five outfits. All of
my belongings fit into three bags—plus my guitar.

The list above might sound like a list of things I miss but it is
really a list of things I thought I needed—things I have realized were
simply preferences. I need food, shelter and love. Luckily I also
have electricity and running water and a laptop for music and films.
But I don't need it. I didn't have these things in my last house and
I settled into a different routine—a routine where the sun had more
control over my sleep schedule.

I don't mean to suggest that Malagasy people, or Nigerien people,
don't want or need things—that we as Americans can be passive knowing
that things are not the answer. I am not suggesting that we can
relax in knowing that poverty is no big deal. Indeed, a 'thing' like
running water (if it is clean) has health ramifications we rarely
consider in the United States as does consistent electricity. I am
only speaking of the experience I am having—the experience of living
in a rich country and then living in a poor country.

Part of what I am trying to say is that finding myself in a new
context has given me the opportunity to see myself beyond my
superficial preferences. To observe that I really don't need what I
thought I needed. To observe that my deepest needs, beyond food and
shelter, are not met by objects and never will be. Objects may be
fun but they can also be a prison. Sometimes your possessions
possess you—financial and psychologically.

One of the first things I realized in Peace Corps was what I had done
in the past for recreation—because I had to create new forms of
entertainment. I realized that one of the main things I did for
entertainment was shop. I know I am not the only American for whom
this is true. And I didn't even think of myself as a big shopper.
But many Saturday afternoons, it is what I did. I bought things and
it made me a little bit happy for a little while. Here I shop for
food but the 'rush' of buying something is rare here. Occasionally I
feel it—though I can't recall the last time. Perhaps when I find
something outrageous at the frip (where you buy clothes—like
Goodwill).

When I return I will probably be completely indulgent for awhile if I
can contain my reverse culture shock. I will likely just wallow in
all of the things. Buying clothes in the right size, new
clothes—wandering around grocery stores with my jaw on the floor.
Aisle after aisle of foods, things, products—all there ready and
packaged up for me to buy buy buy buy buy. And I shall buy!

But I predict a Saturday afternoon, where I don't want to shop for
fun. I predict an afternoon where I want to feel alive and have
experiences. An afternoon where I want to make soup from scratch
with ingredients that are organic—not because they are from a special
store—but because unnatural foods haven't penetrated the society. I
predict a day when all of the comforts and preferences won't comfort
me at all. On that day I will miss simply feeling alive—a feeling
that having or buying things imitates but cannot truly provide.