Note: This post is being put up a day later than intended, due to my town not having electricity the entire afternoon, keeping me from finishing and posting on time. I am leaving the date-specific references as they were because I feel they are relevant to the sentiments expressed in this post.
Today is August 29. While that date may not be super meaningful for everyone, for those of us with a connection to New Orleans, especially a connection formed around or shortly after 2005, that date means quite a bit. Now, I'm sure most of you figured out what that date means, now that I've given you a year and city as a reference point. August 29 is the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina making landfall. Now, before I go on, I want to clarify that I was not in New Orleans at the time of the storm. In fact, I hadn't even begun applying to colleges yet, and wouldn't for about another year. However, that storm directly brought me to New Orleans and played an impact on my life going forward.
However, my purpose in this post is not to talk about me, though I will inevitably end up connecting this back to my service later. I just felt a bit homesick after seeing some friends back home posting articles in remembrance of the storm. So, before I go on, I would advise you to make your way to Nola.com for some excellent coverage. It may no longer be a daily, but the Times-Pic, in my opinion, remains one of the better local newspapers. There are two articles in particular I would like to direct you to. The first is a collection of photos by Ted Jackson. They depict the destruction left by Katrina, but if you click on the photos and drag your mouse across, you will see the photos change to more or less the exact same shot, 9 years later. One of the best views of the visual representations of the city's rebirth since Steve Gleason blocked that punt on Monday Night Football (or the Saints Super Bowl title a few years later). And while none of pictures depicts homes I worked on, I can't help but feel a sense of pride seeing the changes, knowing I, along with millions of other people who picked up hammers and pry bars and paint buckets, played a big part in that. Another article discusses the way people have preserved or memorialized their "Katrina X" on their homes, which, when juxtaposed with repaired homes, serve as "tattoos" to remind people that while the city may be rebuilt, it has also been changed and the impacts linger on. For a fuller coverage, here is the link.
However, I'm not here to simply share other people's work with you. After all, if you're interested, you've probably seen some of these yourself. However, on the anniversary of Katrina, I was trying to explain the recovery to my colleagues this morning, and I shared that Steve Gleason link, though I'll admit, while the photos of the damage the flooding and the "then and now" link made an impression the football play kind of missed it's mark with them. In my case, though, it got me thinking. It got me thinking about activism. Steve Gleason's career ended not long after that block, in part at least, because of his having ALS, which has been getting a lot of press lately, in case you live under a rock. The Ice Bucket Challenge is the latest national activism campaign to go viral (granted, unlike many of its predecessors, like the infamous #Kony2012, which I often use as an example of a bad campaign, actually includes people doing something that might help by donating money). A number of charity and issue awareness campaigns go viral these days, especially with Facebook and Twitter giving such an easy forum. Peer pressure tends to make these appealing. They're also very easy to participate in, feel like you've made a meaningful difference, and not have to do too much work on your own.
Likewise, after Hurricane Katrina, millions of people donated money to help New Orleans rebuild. Some even took time to come down and help build homes, pass out food and water, or help out in other ways. Like viral campaigns, major natural disasters get a lot of attention, and, as a result, a lot of donations. Once again, it's easy. SMS something to a specific number, and your phone will be charged a donation to the Red Cross. It makes people feel good. Their money goes towards helping people. While I could go and enter into a very negative discussion about the issues and downsides of contributing to campaigns like these, I won't. If you want my opinions, we can talk privately (see my contact info on this blog). However, this post is about rebirth. With that in mind, I want to keep things more positive and optimistic,
No, I'm not going to criticize national campaigns. They do help a wide number of people. However, national campaigns also tend not to be the most efficient way to help people. After all, they have more operational costs as they deal with PR issues, legal issues, and trying to support operations nationwide. People often forget there are a lot of people in their own communities in need of help. Donating a few dollars is easy. However, you don't have any say what the organization does with the money. Does it go towards researching new treatments? Or, does it go towards support network for those suffering from ALS? Or, something else? In the case of Katrina, does it go towards buying food? Building homes? The clustf*** of organizations often making each other redundant and getting in each others' ways? It takes a lot more work, but actually taking some time and looking up what research is being done by who and what support networks are out there, etc. goes a lot further, as you now exactly where the money is going. And, while I picked up a hammer and helped build homes in New Orleans, the truth is, we often forget in times of disaster that there are people in our own towns who need food and homes, and your time will go just as far as it does in disaster zones, and you save on gas. Not to say you shouldn't donate to national charities. Just don't forget your own back yard.
Another common thread between Katrina and the Ice Bucket Challenge and other viral campaigns is "Katrina fatigue." People are quickly tiring of the Ice Bucket Challenge, quickly tiring of the videos, and with it has been a rise in articles criticizing the Challenge, questioning if the money is actually going towards things, or if ALS really deserves the attention. Withing days, #Kony2012 was being mocked mercilessly (and I'd admit taking part, especially since it was juxtaposed with all the Obama2012/Romney2012 campaigns). With natural disasters, donations quickly slow down. While everyone expressed sorrow after Katrina, pretty soon, people were asking whether the city was worth bringing back. After all, wouldn't this happen again? Couldn't the money be spent better? What about the corruption/crime/poverty? Couldn't Katrina be a sign from God trying to wash away a city so full of excesses and sin? Sure, for a few months, the donations were rolling in. For a few years people were coming down to help. Now, when I say New Orleans is still being rebuilt, they ask how that can be the case, almost a decade later. Corruption played a part, as did controversial (to be nice) insurance programs. But the real thing is that after a while, people stopped caring and fewer and fewer volunteers were coming down. People were finally getting some money to start rebuilding homes, but suddenly they'd lost the people who were going to provide the labor at the prices they could afford. This year, I chose to look how it was being covered in the DC area. Surely, a paper as large as The Washington Post would have something. Well, they did. A small blurb in an "on this day in history" article and a picture of A-1 from August 30. Which was more than The Washington Times included. In fact, very few national news sources made note of it (next year being a big, round tenth anniversary might be different, but compare that to the annual articles and commemorations around the country of 9/11). Despite the fact that Joseph Kony has yet to be brought to justice and the conflicts still exist in Uganda, it's largely disappeared from the media (both mainstream and social). It'll be interesting to see whether the donations for ALS charities continue next year and down the road. Which, again, comes back to helping out in your own back yard. National charities are great for getting attention and donations quickly, but grass roots activism tends to produced sustained support. After all, how long are people in Wyoming really going to stay interested in a conflict in Uganda which has already been going on for years? It's too far away for them to feel connected, and they aren't seeing immediate results. And that's the key. People want to see immediate results. Sure, seeing a house go up in New Orleans provides a measure of immediate visible results. And then you're told that house is merely a drop in the recovery bucket. People get discouraged, doubting if their donations and concern are making a difference. The way to overcome this is for the people to have a real connection to the cause. Many people who are giving in response to the Ice Bucket Challenge also have a list of charities and causes they donate to every year. These causes get their money without a viral campaign, largely because the person donating has a personal stake; a relative who suffered from/died from a certain disease, a friend who lived in that disaster area, a connection to a school, etc. That's why it's so important to get involved in your own back yard. Because that homeless man you served soup to, he's the same guy who maybe bags your groceries or danced with you at Mardi Gras or whatever. Or maybe he's the guy who out of desperation might end up breaking into your home. Or maybe you simply have the bond of cheering for the same football team on Sunday. Maybe you have no bond, but realize by helping those in need in your community, you can help property values go up. Or any of the other many reasons. The point is, when the problem is in your back yard, rather than several states away, you're more likely to have a connection, and more likely to make helping the cause a regular thing, rather than a one-shot deal and an issue you'll tire of hearing about next month. Just something to consider.
Of course, for some people, the rebuilding of New Orleans IS in their back yard. One thing I loved about Tulane is that every year, the school commemorates Katrina with Outreach Tulane. It's Tulane's biggest day of community service (unless you count MLK Day, which I don't, since those numbers include Xavier and Loyola and Dillard, not just Tulane). For all the criticism Tulane has taken from the community (especially from those living on or near Broadway or the new stadium), Tulane has certainly made rebuilding the city very personal, even offering masters programs in disaster response/preparedness (I'll admit, I don't know the exact program, having heard of it from a friend applying, rather than looking into it myself). And it does show in the activism and volunteerism of many graduates. I am friends with another PCV from Tulane, and there are many more I don't know, as well as a large number of AmeriCorps and TFA volunteers, as well as students who find time on weekends or after work. Now, obviously, not everyone adopts this volunteerism spirit, but it certainly is something the school emphasizes, and is a direct response to Hurricane Katina.
The rebuilding of New Orleans in an ongoing process. New Orleans will never be exactly what it was before the storm, but it certainly has risen from the destruction. And I see parallels to Namibia. Namibia may not have suffered from a hurricane, it has suffered from issues caused by weather, including a recent brutal and deadly drought. Race tensions are also present in both (I won't go too much into that, as I have a whole post comparing Namibia to New Orleans). And there are a lot of issues needing to be addressed in both, from poverty and homelessness to drug and alcohol abuse to high unemployment to struggling education systems. The issues facing New Orleans and Khorixas has given me and opportunity to share a bit of my home with Namibians and also gotten me thinking. However, on this day, I also want to take a moment to remember the death, the destruction, and the suffering that afflicted a city so dear to my heart and which would play a huge part in my life, probably more than I can really comprehend so far. And after taking a moment to remember all that, I smile, put on some New Orleans music, and take comfort in the knowledge that the effort of so many people not only can make a difference, but has made a difference. And, so long as there are people willing to donate their time and their energy (and yes, their money) to causes they feel worthy, as cynical as I may be sometimes, there will always remain at least some degree of faith in humanity and hope for the world.
Friday, August 29, 2014
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Some Reflections As I Begin the Back End
"I was surprised, as always, be how easy the act of leaving was, and how good if felt. The world was suddenly rich with possibility."
As I look back on the first half+ of my service that has gone by, that quote by Jack Kerouac, has stuck with me. It struck me when I came across it early in my service, while I was reading On the Road, and I'm impressed by how much it holds true today, possibly more so than it did when I first read it. That's not to say I haven't missed anyone back home, especially in the wake of my family's recent village. And for sure, I've benefited by my having internet access at site, a luxury may PCVs do not enjoy. Still, getting away certainly did feel good. Ever since getting on the plane, I've felt a sense of optimism. A chance to help people. A chance to make a difference. Of course, that optimism, while still present, has transformed a bit. Looking back on the past year, there are a few thoughts I feel like I should share.
I've said it several times, but one thing a PCV learns quickly is that they can't save the world. They can't save their country. They can't even save their community. You go through training, come up with all these great ideas, and bounce them off other trainees who are similarly optimistic. Then you get to site, and try and make those ideas a reality. You figure, even if you can't save the world, you can at least fix the main problem your program focuses on. As a CHHAP volunteer, you spend months in training learning about HIV, it's root causes, and ways to deal with them. It seems so simple. Do this, and the problem goes away. Right? WRONG!!! Because the thing they mention that a lot of volunteers note but forget, is that these problems are largely ingrained in tradition. The solutions, not so much. I was given a formula by Peter Jensen, and RPCV who Peace Corps contracts to teach about permagardening.
A bit long-winded, I realize, but I felt that has been one of the more important lessons I've learned. I'm one man. I can only do so much, but I can make the most of my opportunities with the time I have, my education, my experiences, my privileged as a white American male, etc.
Another thing I've learned is that "sustainable" doesn't always mean the same thing in all situations. The training staff harps on that word over and over during training. It's plastered all over PC promotional materials. It's THE buzzword in development. But what does it mean? A lot of volunteers, myself included, get to site assuming it means their projects will live on after they leave. For education volunteers, maybe it's leaving behind various teaching manuals and resources. For my computer classes, it's meant training a new teacher and helping create the exams and practice exercises and curriculum. For Grace, with her fitness club, it meant getting the gym built and the club established, and finding a person to simply pass it off to (in this case me) and leaving some of her other materials ready so any loose ends on projects could be taken up by Taylor, the PCV who replaced her. But some projects are not quite that simple in terms of sustainability. I'm teaching English classes at the traditional authority. Sure, I could pass it off to Taylor when I leave, but she doesn't seem particularly interested in that project. We may be getting a teaching volunteer soon, but that doesn't mean he or she would be able to continue with it, depending on his or her schedule. However, over the past year, I've helped teach some basics of conversational English, and I can see a difference when they greet me in town and we converse. I've also taught them some reading, which will allow them to continue expanding their comfort with the language on their own. So, while the classes my die, I've still created some sustainability by helping them to help themselves. With condoms and HIV, I teach the learners of the fitness club. They, in turn, pass on what they learned when they are in their life skills classes or when friends see them maybe not having that 4th drink or insisting on using condoms. Seeing me reading every day has gotten my host family's kids more interested in reading, as well. They've also started wearing hats and sunglasses because they want to be more like me. Even if there were nobody to pick up my computer classes when I leave, there are still the learners I trained, who can use these skills to find jobs and possibly help show a friend or family member, and might even be encouraged to buy a computer, which their children will grow up using. And so on. The projects themselves may not live on, but their legacies and impacts may be able to live on.
Moving away from my work and into my general life, it's the little things that matter. Playing with my host family, finding time to read, a Skype session with a friend back home, watching soccer with friends here, kicking a soccer ball around with co-workers, the smiles on the faces of my health club when they finally are able to make my American football spiral, learning a new song on my guitar, an SMS from just the right person, people waving at me in town, children who were once afraid of the white man now asking me to play with them (looking at you, little Patience), cooking red beans and rice on a Monday to feel like I'm back in New Orleans, or even sitting outside as the sun sets while sipping on a beer. Despite the quote to start this post, the life of a PCV is not easy. The work can be frustrating. The low pay can suck. You miss your friends and family back home. You see pictures of weddings and kids being born and can feel like everyone else is just passing you by. A lot of people can get burned out. A friend of mine's solution was traveling every chance she got. As a result, she never really felt like she was fully accepted by her community. Other people find dating helps. Until they break up. Relying on big things have their costs. The only way to really survive, I've found, has been to enjoy the simple pleasures. I you can find things to make you happy every day (or most days, at least), it makes it a lot easier to get through the day. After all, "life has become immeasurably better since I have been forced to stop taking it seriously."
One thing many (if not all) PCVs have in common is the time we have alone. You learn a lot about yourself and how you handle them. While I've always planned on law school when I get back, I've been finding my work here has sparked a major interest in the work I've been doing in public health, and am now considering possibly doing a joint degree and get a masters in public health. Beyond re-evaluating my educational goals, A number of volunteers I know use this time to consider what their next step will be, and while that may not have been my intention, it's certainly happened.
One big challenge I mentioned several times, especially early on, has been the cultural difference. I've learned a lot about the culture of my community, and Namibia as a whole. I've learned a lot about religion here, as well. Despite being the same religion, Christianity in Namibia plays a very different role than it does in America often. While many religious groups in the US oppose condoms in schools and the teaching of sex ed, here, a lot of the people I've worked with teach about condoms and family planning and sex ed with their children because they believe that it's what Jesus wants them to do in order to help fight the HIV and other health problems plaguing them. I've experienced engagements and weddings and funerals, and seen how traditional practices and Christian ones have combined. I've also gotten to share my own culture. For Hanukkah, I used my iPad to teach my host family about the candles and introduced them to latkes. I confused my colleagues when I didn't eat any bread during Passover. When my grandpa passed away, I got to teach them about how my culture handles death. During Mardi Gras, I showed them pictures from New Orleans, made some foods (red beans and rice, jambalaya, and king cake, though cats stole the fish we were going to use for po'boys), and introduced them to New Orleans music. They showed me how they enjoy watching soccer, and during the World Cup, I got to show them what American fans were like (and enjoyed being public enemy number one every time I wore my USA jersey during the group stage, especially after we beat Ghana). I've shown them American football, taught them to throw the ball and play the game (though it generally devolves into rugby after a couple plays). I've even introduced them to tailgating. Using the show Treme, I've given them a glimpse into the city where I went to school. With elections coming up in both the US and Namibia, we've been able to talk about the similarities and differences in the political systems. They've shared their culture with me and I've shared mine. I've been put on the spot many times regarding things in the US, whether it be our foreign policy in Iraq, our support for Israel, the killing of a black man by a police officer in the US, same sex marriage (including an interesting situation when a friend here saw my MD4ME sticker on my lap top, and asked me about it, and then, after my explanation, looked back at the TV she was watching, which was showing that Kardashians show, and remarked "you have high divorce and people like these celebrities getting married for show and breaking up all the time, and yet you think the gays are ruining your marriage?"), or any number of hot button topics, and while I generally try and avoid the politics of those situations, I do try and use them as a chance to talk about the general issues in the US, and how different people view different things. Culture may have caused a shock, but it's also opened many doors and opportunities for conversations. And I'm guessing that'll be true wherever you serve, wherever life takes me, and whenever people from such different backgrounds meet.
A few future PCVs have come across this blog and asked me a few questions, and certain ones seem to keep coming up every time. I did a bit to prepare. I read up on HIV. I studied the history of Namibia, even tried to learn a couple phrases of Afrikaans (at this, I wasn't particularly successful, though I admittedly only put in a minimal effort at this one). For those of you out there, if you want to prepare, don't do so by trying to learn a language. In Namibia, there are so many regional languages, and while Afrikaans may be spoken in more parts of the country than others, in many communities, it's of little to no help. It's also a lot harder on your own than using the jumping off points Peace Corps provides during training and then being dumped into a community where you actually have to use it. Or, in my case, you learn that while knowing Damara might help a bit, most of my work is done in English and most of the people I come in contact with would prefer to use English, since they speak English better than I speak Damara (and then get mad when they drunkenly put me on the spot during a night out, and I can only use a few key phrases). I realize in countries like South/Central America, there tends to be only one local language, so this may not apply. However, I've found the most useful preparation for me was studying a bit of history and culture of Namibia and the reading I did on my area of focus, HIV. That would be what I recommend to volunteers in general. Learn what you can about your country and your project, and don't worry too much about the language. Something else people have asked me is what my life is like. Honestly, while there are some things I do regularly, my schedule is generally very fluid. It's also very different from the life of a teaching volunteer. If you know what sector you'll be serving in, I recommend you look into volunteers from that sector (check the resources in my Links tab). Talk to as many RPCVs as you can also since many of them have experiences that sound familiar not matter where they served. Also, learn about soccer. It's the world's most popular sport, and even if there is a language barrier, it can open doors and help you integrate just by going to a local bar, getting something to drink, and enjoying the match with your community. I know it made my life much easier early on, and I know several volunteers who will say the same thing. And never forget what Hunter S. Thompson one wrote: "When the going gets weird, the weird turn professional". Embrace your quirks. You never know when they'll spark a project, a friendship, or simply get you through the day, but it takes a certain mindset to choose to give up two years and join the Peace Corps, and the most successful volunteers have embraced this different outlook.
Sorry it's taken so long to update this. Between my family's visit (sorry, no post about that so just enjoy the pictures) and writer's block, it's been tough to put anything down here (I've started and deleted several different posts before finally writing this one). Looking back, it's been both a challenging and liberating first year, one of learning ad re-evaluating. It's been long and has gone by quickly. I miss family and friends and have no regrets leaving you all behind (no offense). Life sometimes feels like it's been passing me by back home, but really, that's just because I often forget to notice how much of my life I've been experiencing, especially when all you see of other people's lives is the snapshots of their big moments. I've learned a lot about a new culture and gotten to share my own. I'm looking forward to the next few months, as I transition from the work I did in my first year to someone getting ready to return to the US for the next stage of my life. I have applications to fill out for law schools, jobs to look into, and possibly a little traveling and celebrating to plan for when I COS, as well as putting things in place to help my legacy live on. No PCV can save the world. But in the less than a year I have left, I would like to make as big a difference as I can. "What's in store for me in the direction I [didn't] take?" One thing I can say for sure, no matter what the next few months bring, I'm glad I got on that plane.
As I look back on the first half+ of my service that has gone by, that quote by Jack Kerouac, has stuck with me. It struck me when I came across it early in my service, while I was reading On the Road, and I'm impressed by how much it holds true today, possibly more so than it did when I first read it. That's not to say I haven't missed anyone back home, especially in the wake of my family's recent village. And for sure, I've benefited by my having internet access at site, a luxury may PCVs do not enjoy. Still, getting away certainly did feel good. Ever since getting on the plane, I've felt a sense of optimism. A chance to help people. A chance to make a difference. Of course, that optimism, while still present, has transformed a bit. Looking back on the past year, there are a few thoughts I feel like I should share.
I've said it several times, but one thing a PCV learns quickly is that they can't save the world. They can't save their country. They can't even save their community. You go through training, come up with all these great ideas, and bounce them off other trainees who are similarly optimistic. Then you get to site, and try and make those ideas a reality. You figure, even if you can't save the world, you can at least fix the main problem your program focuses on. As a CHHAP volunteer, you spend months in training learning about HIV, it's root causes, and ways to deal with them. It seems so simple. Do this, and the problem goes away. Right? WRONG!!! Because the thing they mention that a lot of volunteers note but forget, is that these problems are largely ingrained in tradition. The solutions, not so much. I was given a formula by Peter Jensen, and RPCV who Peace Corps contracts to teach about permagardening.
SDA+IMVR=AC->RA->BCGreat, Jay, you've broken it down to a formula. But, unlike you, I have no clue what those letters mean. SDA means "Small Doable Actions," little things a person can do. Things like wearing a condom or cutting down on drinking. IMVR stands for "Immediate Measurable Visible Results." Things like when I wear a condom, I don't get HIV or end up pregnant, or when I cut back on drinking, I don't get drunk, I save money, and I don't make as many poor choices. Of course, the "visible" part is hardest to do, but most important. If people can't see the difference, how do they know they're not wasting their time. Sure, I can explain how condoms work, but "immediate" is tough, because to show condoms are effective, I need numbers to show a trend over time. Kind of a catch-22. In the end, the IMVR is probably the biggest challenge we face. Of course, if those small doable acts can produce immediate measurable results people can see, it can lead to AC, or attitude change. A person sees benefits of wearing a condom, and become more receptive to them. A person sees the perks of cutting back on their drinking, and find responsible drinking more appealing. This is where I take issue with the formula, for two reasons. First of all, I don't think attitude change leads to RA, repeated actions. I also think the equation is missing an element, but we will get to that soon. Up to now, this equation works on an individual level, but we're not simply trying to help one person. Overall, we're trying to change a society, a culture, so that this can all be sustainable societal change (which I will call SSC). The last part of the equation I posted is BC, or behavioral change. The equation, as I view it, would be better put as
SDA+IMVR=AC, AC+RA=BCThen, for sustainability, we add one more elements: convincing others, or CO. The final formula, in my opinion, looks like SDA+IMVR=AC, AC+RA=BC, BC+CO=SSC. The element I've left out, as I've learned, is time. Change takes time, and 2 years is not enough to create societal change. As a volunteer, I can only effect as far as AC, maybe BC if I'm lucky. The key is to change the attitudes of a few people, and hope they the help spread those changes. You can't save everyone, but you can set one or two people on the correct path, at least.
A bit long-winded, I realize, but I felt that has been one of the more important lessons I've learned. I'm one man. I can only do so much, but I can make the most of my opportunities with the time I have, my education, my experiences, my privileged as a white American male, etc.
Another thing I've learned is that "sustainable" doesn't always mean the same thing in all situations. The training staff harps on that word over and over during training. It's plastered all over PC promotional materials. It's THE buzzword in development. But what does it mean? A lot of volunteers, myself included, get to site assuming it means their projects will live on after they leave. For education volunteers, maybe it's leaving behind various teaching manuals and resources. For my computer classes, it's meant training a new teacher and helping create the exams and practice exercises and curriculum. For Grace, with her fitness club, it meant getting the gym built and the club established, and finding a person to simply pass it off to (in this case me) and leaving some of her other materials ready so any loose ends on projects could be taken up by Taylor, the PCV who replaced her. But some projects are not quite that simple in terms of sustainability. I'm teaching English classes at the traditional authority. Sure, I could pass it off to Taylor when I leave, but she doesn't seem particularly interested in that project. We may be getting a teaching volunteer soon, but that doesn't mean he or she would be able to continue with it, depending on his or her schedule. However, over the past year, I've helped teach some basics of conversational English, and I can see a difference when they greet me in town and we converse. I've also taught them some reading, which will allow them to continue expanding their comfort with the language on their own. So, while the classes my die, I've still created some sustainability by helping them to help themselves. With condoms and HIV, I teach the learners of the fitness club. They, in turn, pass on what they learned when they are in their life skills classes or when friends see them maybe not having that 4th drink or insisting on using condoms. Seeing me reading every day has gotten my host family's kids more interested in reading, as well. They've also started wearing hats and sunglasses because they want to be more like me. Even if there were nobody to pick up my computer classes when I leave, there are still the learners I trained, who can use these skills to find jobs and possibly help show a friend or family member, and might even be encouraged to buy a computer, which their children will grow up using. And so on. The projects themselves may not live on, but their legacies and impacts may be able to live on.
Moving away from my work and into my general life, it's the little things that matter. Playing with my host family, finding time to read, a Skype session with a friend back home, watching soccer with friends here, kicking a soccer ball around with co-workers, the smiles on the faces of my health club when they finally are able to make my American football spiral, learning a new song on my guitar, an SMS from just the right person, people waving at me in town, children who were once afraid of the white man now asking me to play with them (looking at you, little Patience), cooking red beans and rice on a Monday to feel like I'm back in New Orleans, or even sitting outside as the sun sets while sipping on a beer. Despite the quote to start this post, the life of a PCV is not easy. The work can be frustrating. The low pay can suck. You miss your friends and family back home. You see pictures of weddings and kids being born and can feel like everyone else is just passing you by. A lot of people can get burned out. A friend of mine's solution was traveling every chance she got. As a result, she never really felt like she was fully accepted by her community. Other people find dating helps. Until they break up. Relying on big things have their costs. The only way to really survive, I've found, has been to enjoy the simple pleasures. I you can find things to make you happy every day (or most days, at least), it makes it a lot easier to get through the day. After all, "life has become immeasurably better since I have been forced to stop taking it seriously."
One thing many (if not all) PCVs have in common is the time we have alone. You learn a lot about yourself and how you handle them. While I've always planned on law school when I get back, I've been finding my work here has sparked a major interest in the work I've been doing in public health, and am now considering possibly doing a joint degree and get a masters in public health. Beyond re-evaluating my educational goals, A number of volunteers I know use this time to consider what their next step will be, and while that may not have been my intention, it's certainly happened.
One big challenge I mentioned several times, especially early on, has been the cultural difference. I've learned a lot about the culture of my community, and Namibia as a whole. I've learned a lot about religion here, as well. Despite being the same religion, Christianity in Namibia plays a very different role than it does in America often. While many religious groups in the US oppose condoms in schools and the teaching of sex ed, here, a lot of the people I've worked with teach about condoms and family planning and sex ed with their children because they believe that it's what Jesus wants them to do in order to help fight the HIV and other health problems plaguing them. I've experienced engagements and weddings and funerals, and seen how traditional practices and Christian ones have combined. I've also gotten to share my own culture. For Hanukkah, I used my iPad to teach my host family about the candles and introduced them to latkes. I confused my colleagues when I didn't eat any bread during Passover. When my grandpa passed away, I got to teach them about how my culture handles death. During Mardi Gras, I showed them pictures from New Orleans, made some foods (red beans and rice, jambalaya, and king cake, though cats stole the fish we were going to use for po'boys), and introduced them to New Orleans music. They showed me how they enjoy watching soccer, and during the World Cup, I got to show them what American fans were like (and enjoyed being public enemy number one every time I wore my USA jersey during the group stage, especially after we beat Ghana). I've shown them American football, taught them to throw the ball and play the game (though it generally devolves into rugby after a couple plays). I've even introduced them to tailgating. Using the show Treme, I've given them a glimpse into the city where I went to school. With elections coming up in both the US and Namibia, we've been able to talk about the similarities and differences in the political systems. They've shared their culture with me and I've shared mine. I've been put on the spot many times regarding things in the US, whether it be our foreign policy in Iraq, our support for Israel, the killing of a black man by a police officer in the US, same sex marriage (including an interesting situation when a friend here saw my MD4ME sticker on my lap top, and asked me about it, and then, after my explanation, looked back at the TV she was watching, which was showing that Kardashians show, and remarked "you have high divorce and people like these celebrities getting married for show and breaking up all the time, and yet you think the gays are ruining your marriage?"), or any number of hot button topics, and while I generally try and avoid the politics of those situations, I do try and use them as a chance to talk about the general issues in the US, and how different people view different things. Culture may have caused a shock, but it's also opened many doors and opportunities for conversations. And I'm guessing that'll be true wherever you serve, wherever life takes me, and whenever people from such different backgrounds meet.
A few future PCVs have come across this blog and asked me a few questions, and certain ones seem to keep coming up every time. I did a bit to prepare. I read up on HIV. I studied the history of Namibia, even tried to learn a couple phrases of Afrikaans (at this, I wasn't particularly successful, though I admittedly only put in a minimal effort at this one). For those of you out there, if you want to prepare, don't do so by trying to learn a language. In Namibia, there are so many regional languages, and while Afrikaans may be spoken in more parts of the country than others, in many communities, it's of little to no help. It's also a lot harder on your own than using the jumping off points Peace Corps provides during training and then being dumped into a community where you actually have to use it. Or, in my case, you learn that while knowing Damara might help a bit, most of my work is done in English and most of the people I come in contact with would prefer to use English, since they speak English better than I speak Damara (and then get mad when they drunkenly put me on the spot during a night out, and I can only use a few key phrases). I realize in countries like South/Central America, there tends to be only one local language, so this may not apply. However, I've found the most useful preparation for me was studying a bit of history and culture of Namibia and the reading I did on my area of focus, HIV. That would be what I recommend to volunteers in general. Learn what you can about your country and your project, and don't worry too much about the language. Something else people have asked me is what my life is like. Honestly, while there are some things I do regularly, my schedule is generally very fluid. It's also very different from the life of a teaching volunteer. If you know what sector you'll be serving in, I recommend you look into volunteers from that sector (check the resources in my Links tab). Talk to as many RPCVs as you can also since many of them have experiences that sound familiar not matter where they served. Also, learn about soccer. It's the world's most popular sport, and even if there is a language barrier, it can open doors and help you integrate just by going to a local bar, getting something to drink, and enjoying the match with your community. I know it made my life much easier early on, and I know several volunteers who will say the same thing. And never forget what Hunter S. Thompson one wrote: "When the going gets weird, the weird turn professional". Embrace your quirks. You never know when they'll spark a project, a friendship, or simply get you through the day, but it takes a certain mindset to choose to give up two years and join the Peace Corps, and the most successful volunteers have embraced this different outlook.
Sorry it's taken so long to update this. Between my family's visit (sorry, no post about that so just enjoy the pictures) and writer's block, it's been tough to put anything down here (I've started and deleted several different posts before finally writing this one). Looking back, it's been both a challenging and liberating first year, one of learning ad re-evaluating. It's been long and has gone by quickly. I miss family and friends and have no regrets leaving you all behind (no offense). Life sometimes feels like it's been passing me by back home, but really, that's just because I often forget to notice how much of my life I've been experiencing, especially when all you see of other people's lives is the snapshots of their big moments. I've learned a lot about a new culture and gotten to share my own. I'm looking forward to the next few months, as I transition from the work I did in my first year to someone getting ready to return to the US for the next stage of my life. I have applications to fill out for law schools, jobs to look into, and possibly a little traveling and celebrating to plan for when I COS, as well as putting things in place to help my legacy live on. No PCV can save the world. But in the less than a year I have left, I would like to make as big a difference as I can. "What's in store for me in the direction I [didn't] take?" One thing I can say for sure, no matter what the next few months bring, I'm glad I got on that plane.
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