What is hard about being a volunteer?

Peace Corps applicants recently nominated for a program, asked on their blog, "What is the hardest part of being a volunteer?"

For me it has been the stress I create for myself because of my personal reactions towards different practices within the culture. Every volunteer has certain things that frustrate them. They are not the same for everyone.

For me in Africa, I hmm.... didn't have many moments of frustration. Or have I just forgotten?

1. Catching students who cheat annoyed me.
2. aggressive sellers in the market and getting cheated by taxi drivers and merchants

In China, I feel like I have had many more moments of frustration:

1. catching students who cheat and plagiarize (I later realized that teachers here don't usually care and are not out to try to catch cheaters. It has sort of made it easier, but still I react negatively to cheating.)
2. not being told what I feel is important information (For example, not being told that a course I am teaching will have no final or grade.)
3. being told I am not allowed to do something like travel
4. having an erratic schedule that is full of unknowns with instant changes (For example, I often receive phone calls, "Come now." Drop everything and come now. It is important.)

Some people say that the hardest parts about being a volunteer are

1. too much free time
2. the slow progress of getting anything accomplished
3. having to redefine success because it isn't the same as it is in America

Maybe I have been a volunteer too long which is why I've learned how to deal with the above three reasons.

How do I deal with my frustrations? I talk about them, write about them, try my hardest to let them go, and sometimes go on a bike ride or a run. Usually a good night's sleep will wash away my stress.

From Simplicity to Modern Living

I imagined dark boxcars, the wall made of wood, the windows little slits at the top of the car, the toilets open holes where you can see the ground speeding by. Instead I found myself inside of an enjoyable air conditioned, big windowed train car that reminded me of a hostel. There were three bunk beds stacked on top of each other, 6 total beds in one cubicle. There were sinks, squat toilets, and all you can drink hot water. The views from the bay windows were breathtaking. The 15 hour train ride passed peacefully. I fell asleep for 8 hours. Thank goodness I am used to hard beds, and the Dramamine probably helped.

Arriving in Xian, we were instantly met by two people from the university, one from the foreign affairs office and the driver. It took us 6-7 hours to get to my new home in Gansu as we stopped for lunch, watermelon, and the traffic jams of two lane narrow highways where cars pass across solid yellow lines. The roads between my city and Xian are quite bad with bad drivers too. The combination doesn't make for timely travel. A new expressway is rumored to open in October possibly making the trip only 3 hours. We drove up and down plateaus into valleys admiring the beautiful views of farmland, corn and wheat, seeing the goats and sheep, the stacks of hay, and the rosy cheeked farmers.

My new home is absolutely decked out, fully furnished each room full of furniture including all of the electronics: computer, printer, TV, DVD player, stereo, Internet, scanner plus a fridge, microwave, and washing machine. There are two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen, and a dining area. It is absolutely luxurious!

The campus is small about 10,000 students split between two campuses. The English department has about 1,000 students. I will be teaching English and American literature about 10 hours a week. I am excited about using the extra time to play piano, to play basketball, to start a knitting group, and to learn a martial art. At the back gate of the campus is a block long market full of gorgeous fruits and vegetables plus stores and restaurants galore. The town is small (population 200,000) but feels like a big city because it isn't spread out.

Thursday I will be heading back to Chengdu, the two day trip. I do have a site mate who is also from Peace Corps, but we are pretty isolated from other volunteers. During winter it gets cold and may get lonely. I am not worried though. I survived the isolation of Africa.

Community

Every weekend morning since arriving in China, as I wash my laundry, I have listened to the beat of drums and the crash of cymbals. When I peer over the wall of the outdoor patio of the 6th floor roof, I see a group of women marching, drumming, and shouting at the next door government building.

One of my friends Renee has a goal of wanting to have a meaningful conversation with older people. I thought to myself, the drumming group of women would be a perfect place to practice. I invited Renee and we went yesterday.

We were a bit worried because we didn't hear any drums but when we arrived a group of older women had gathered. One big red drum was on wheels. Hanging from the tree were bright colorful silk bags that the round snare drum shaped drums were pulled from. Other women were holding bright red velvet bags that carried golden cymbals tied with bright yellow cloth.

The women welcomed us with bright smiles and handshakes. There was such a warm feeling as women laughed, played, sung and danced, teasing each other and showing off, and we hadn't even started yet. Slowly women gathered their drums strapping them to their bodies with bright red silk straps, helping each other untwist and arrange the silk pulling out thick wooden drum sticks with bright yellow strips of long cloth tied to them.

Women lined up and I was feeling, "hmm... can we actually join in? We don't have any drums or cymbals." But then I noticed two women didn't have them either. One only had fans which she used as drum sticks upon an air drum, and the other used her hands imitating the cymbals. Renee and I would be cymbal players.

I thought it would be easy, and the first action was. One line of drums and cymbals rushed another line of drums and cymbals like two armies meeting on a battle field. But from there it got more elaborate as drums circled cymbals, as cymbals circled drums, as drums and cymbals looped and ran around in organized patterns, arranging themselves into set formations just like marching band. But with a smile, I just ran along.

After the first set, we rested and yes I was sweating. We were surrounded by smiling women all very interested in why I couldn't speak Chinese and where I was from. Everyone tells me that I am Chinese and there is no way I can convince them that I am American. I just nod and say "I am Chinese and I live in America." My limited language is not strong enough to explain the diversity of America especially to women who speak a Sichuan dialect while I am learning Mandarin. They asked if Renee was from France. They asked her age and when she told them they smiled happy to welcome her rejoicing her age and their ages, a joy of being older.

The leader of the group was gorgeous with a glow to her and a smile that showed an unforgettable spirit of joy. Her inner beauty shined through the glow of her face. The way she moved and danced while directing the band of similar glowing women is the type of essence I seek.

In my older years, I want to live in such a community where women get together every weekend to drum, a community where you can walk to the local farmer's market where the possibility of running into your friends is easy.

I want to find the love and touch of people rather than the TV babysitter and the walls of cars.

Life in China Tidbits

Model school ended on Friday. It was a three week model school but I only taught for 7 days. My teaching partner taught for the other 7 days. On the last day of school, our students did presentations and since our theme was Summer, we had a summer picnic and played Frisbee. We had started out with 32 but on the last day only had about 10. I think summer is a busy time for students and they want to go home to visit their parents.

What were the highlights of model school?

The biggest highlight for me was all of the laughter and noise. Noise meant that the students were speaking English which was one of our teaching objectives. My students did interviews for a summer job, did speed dating, and played taboo like games. It was a good learning experience.

My computer crashed which made it slightly inconvenient to prepare lesson plans. The nice thing though is that one of my students is going to help me fix it.

I had to take two buses to where my student lives. The first bus was easy. The second bus was a bit more difficult.

Where do I get off? Which direction do I go?

My limited Chinese was understood by the bus driver and he told me where to get off. My limited Chinese was mispronounced and confused the 5 people I asked at the new bus stop. I didn't know which direction to take the new bus. I had to cross the busy 8 lane street 5 times as each person told me something different. Finally one man corrected my Chinese, not shi da, but shi fan. Since he finally got what I was saying, I trusted his directions and ended safely at my destination.

Now I have 3 hours to spare, waiting to meet my student. Cyber cafes are everywhere. Plus I can go window shopping; although, I don't have a lot of money. We get $5 a day. Food is cheap only $1 a meal, but clothes are more expensive maybe $10 for a really nice skirt. I like the skirt. Shall I splurge?

The other day I got a haircut, boy short (very few young women here have boy short hair). It only cost $2 and it took like an hour. The hair washing and head massage lasted like 20 minutes.

Life is China is wonderful.

In a couple of days I will learn where I am going to be living for the next two years and then will all by myself go visit either taking a train or a long distance bus. Hopefully my Chinese will be correctly pronounced and understood.

Living in Luxury

Living in campus university apartments for staff and teachers, is a step up from living outside with the frogs, stars, mosquitoes, and scorpions of Africa. My host family is pretty well-off. The father is a retired Chinese language teacher. He was the vice-president of a university.

Our apartment is on the fifth floor, the top floor and is a huge living space. There are two floors with the top floor having an outdoor patio with a lot of plants and where the washing machine is kept. There are 4 bedrooms, 2 sitting rooms, a small kitchen, and 3 small rooms plus two bathrooms. I still have a squat toilet though. It is a nice one. It flushes.

The living room probably will indicate to you just how luxurious my life is at the moment. Notice the pears on the table. My family always has fruit sitting out for me. We never use the tall air conditioner.

My bedroom is lovely. I have a hard bed which reminds me of sleeping on the rope cot in Africa, a taste of home. Back in the states I didn’t have time to get used to the soft beds. I have a nice desk where I spend most of my evenings learning Chinese or working on lesson plans. During practice school, I will be teaching English for 7 days on the theme of Summer. My teaching partner and I came up with the theme.

My bedroom has a clothes rack and I have the bottom cabinets of a bookshelf to put my clothes. There is a lovely big window which brings in a cooling breeze. The one bad thing about my room are the mosquitoes. I thought by moving to China I would escape from those tiny insects. I do have water though, so I don’t have to worry about staph which basically ruined my skin. My room has a guess what, air conditioner. I don’t find China to be too hot so I never use it. My host family noticed and gave me a fan which is nice. The fan is all that I need.

Life is good. I have no complaints. My biggest challenge is learning Chinese.

Daily Life in China

What is my school week in China like?

I wake up at 4 am and study Chinese.

6 am I go for a 30 minute run then eat a breakfast of yogurt sucked through a straw, a piece of bread and fruit.

7:30 I head to school, a 7 minute walk. (I am living on Chengdu University's campus in teacher's housing.)

8:30-10:15 Chinese language class

10:30-12:00 General session on cross culture, teaching English, safety security, or health

12-1:30 Lunch on your own

1:30-3:15 Chinese language class

3:30-5:00 Another general session

6:30 Dinner with host family

9:00 Bedtime

Food

As a young girl, my favorite food was Chinese dumplings called jiaozi.

Here in China, it is one of the first words Americans learn, an easy dish to order at a restaurant. We only soon realize that restaurants don't serve jiaozi. You have to find the special hole in the wall places that sell dumplings and noodles.

Today, my family left the house early to go to the market to find the freshest vegetables on the day when veggies disappear quick, a Sunday full of thousands of shoppers. The market is such an interesting lively place full of wriggling eels, huge frogs, plucked geese being blow torched, peaches, and watermelon and hundreds of other food goods. We bought bak choy, dried tofu, green onions, eggs, thousand year old duck eggs, ground pork, cucumbers, and jiaozi wraps.

Freshly made jiaozi wraps! Yay! Dumplings for lunch.

It was super fun watching my Chinese host mother make dumplings and helping her stuff and squeeze them shut. I did a good job coz none of mine broke open when placed in the boiling water. I was proud and was rewarded with a tummy full of the most delicious things ever.

For dinner the ingredients we bought became a cucumber and thousand year old duck egg soup, a bak choy stir fry, a dried tofu and green onions stir fry, and jiaozi leftover from today's lunch that was rewarmed by deep frying. Yum yum!!!

I am excited about learning how to cook Chinese food.
I shall invite you to Chinese meal when I get back to the states.

Things Seen

The veggie market is gorgeous! It reminds me of West Africa's food markets except there are a lot more greens and other veggies.

Girls are very feminine here, not sure how I will adapt to that. Will I change into a femme who wears high heels and cute little dresses? My host family has already commented that I don't wear lipstick and I shouldn't eat too much. They don't want me to get fat.

The food is simple and delicious. The flavor is the vegetable itself. My host mother cooks about 5 veggie dishes each evening. It takes her two hours. We don't eat much meat, maybe a bite or too. The meals suit me just fine.

The family is very close. The first Sunday I was here, the father, the mother, the daughter and me all went to a clothing store and helped her pick out the best dress that everyone liked. She changed 4 times allowing us to see the two different dresses several times to help her make a decision. It took us about an hour to make the decision.

Men here walk around with their bellies showing. They hike up their shirts coz it is so hot.

I do not find Chengdu hot. Africa was A LOT hotter. I have no complaints about the weather. The other day we had a rain storm, lightening bolts from ground to infinite sky, tremendously powerful strikes seen from the glass wall of our language class.

When a little kid who hasn't been totally potty trained yet, has to go, his parents hold him out in the street and make sounds, "Shh, shhh, sway.. shhh..." I guess to help the child go. Children who are not potty trained yet wear clothes that have a slit in the crotch.

Gender roles are different here than in Africa. I see both men and women going shopping for veggies. In this household the mother cooks and the father and daughter clean up. There seems to be more equality. In West Africa most of the Peace Corps staff were men. In China, most of the Peace Corps staff are women.

My most difficult challenge so far is learning Chinese. It is hard.

Don't let Jennifer order if you are a picky eater

China is very different than Africa and is an exciting new place.

One of the main reasons I wanted to live in China though was to experience my ethnic heritage as an adult; however, being Taiwanese American in China has its challenges. I have heard about these challenges and yes they did scare me a bit, but I know that I am strong and can overcome difficulties proven by my two years of living in West Africa.

One major challenge is looking like I should be able to speak Chinese and not really knowing a word.

Tonight I went out to eat with three other Peace Corps trainees and felt the attention right away.

We walked through the alleyways between tall concrete polluted black coated buildings. We passed people sitting at hole in the wall quick eats looking for the noodle dumpling place we had gone to at lunch. Lunch was easy because our host country national trainers ordered for us. Instead of an opened restaurant, we saw the doors were drawn with the mom and pop preparing the dough for the next day. We continued down the alleyway that was just big enough for one car and walked into a noisy restaurant.

As soon as we sat down I was the person who all Mandarin was directed toward. All I could do was say, "I don't understand. I don't understand," in Chinese.

A crowd of 10 waiters surrounded our table. It was like being in a full bar with the music blaring except this place was only half full with no music. People know how to have a good time when going out to eat. There was so much noise and everyone was shouting at us. I was the only one smart enough to bring the menu that Peace Corps provided us that had Chinese dishes written in characters and explained in English. Since all of the shouting was directed at me, I had to make the decisions.

I got up and went to a table full of good food and pointed at the green vegetable dish that looked inviting. Then a waiter who spoke a little English pointed at various items on my Peace Corps provided menu and we picked two items: a pork vermicelli dish and a hot spicy tofu dish. Then the main waiter said something which I understood to mean that we had four dishes coming our way. We thought we had only ordered three.

So our three dishes came and then a HUGE pot filled with hundred of dried peppers and licorice like peppercorns filled with red oil and big chunks of fish arrived, our mystery dish finally making an appearance. But then another dish arrived, a HUGE bowl of clear broth with cabbage and a HUGE fish head. Lucky for me Africa taught me all about fish heads.

It was a meal to remember, savory, tasty, and cheap only $14 for the whole meal.

Plus I survived my first challenge, the challenge of being in a confusing atmosphere of language barriers where the locals can't understand why I can't speak Chinese and where I feel the stress of having to communicate somehow. It was intimidating but I survived. Lucky for me my dinner partners were not picky eaters.

Communal Living

For the past three nights, I have been participating in preparing group meals for over 30 people. We all chip in about $1.75 for dinner and dessert. We have groups of contributors: team shop, team chop, team drink, team cook, team clean-up, and team collect payment.

Evening one: Spaghetti, salad, garlic bread and flan
Evening two: Pancakes, hash browns, eggs, fruit salad,
and chocolate mousse
Evening three: Three different types of rice, beans, guacamole, salsa, a corn tomato salad, tortillas, brownies, chocolate cake, and fudge.

I have always been interested in community living and in living in a communal type of lifestyle.

However these three nights of cooking have taught me some interesting lessons about communal living.

In theory if everyone contributed to the whole, to the meal, to the project there would be an overall feeling of accomplishment and success amongst the group, but in practice things are very different.

People are under-appreciated.

During Peace Corps training, there are so many people who contribute to our learning and who contribute to helping us move into our new homes. This whole weekend in Conakry has been a group effort: community dinners, organizing the purchase of 29 stoves, tanks of gas, and trunks, showing us how to shop and move around in this city with public taxis, buying bulk herbs to divide, buying mosquito mesh for everyone, collecting and photocopying all of the chemistry lesson plans we did during practice school and distributing them, and living under one roof.

We all have a common goal of getting prepared and ready to move to site, to move to our villages. It is easier to accomplish this if we work as a team, if we divi up the work and spread the responsibilities.

It is a group effort and at the end of it one would hope that we would all feel a sense of accomplishment and a sense of appreciation for our fellow volunteers.

However there are several problematic issues with communal living, a few issues with a group effort trying to accomplish something:

1. Negativity overpowers any positivity. It breeds fast. One voice of negativity is amplified 100 fold and the positive voice is completely lost.

Negativity can be manifested with resentment towards others for how little they contributed or with negative gossip. The negativity doesn't always even have to manifest itself publicly but often starts internally leading to an overall unhappy ending.

2. Judging the value of one's work is another issue.

If the community was made up for positive hard-working people would communal living work? In other words, if the community was made up of Jennifers would it lead to success? *teasing grin*

Today I did some shopping for the desserts we were preparing for the house. I kept the cook company as he mixed up some frosted brownies and fudge. I washed a few dishes. I chopped many many items tonight for our feast of Latin food. And in the middle of chopping I went outside and helped load up all of the baggage for the Fouta region into Peace Corps cars. (I like lifting.) I contributed to tonight's meal. I contributed to our goal of moving to our villages. I do not feel like I need a thank you or an acknowledgement because I know that I contributed to tonight's meal, to our departure and feel good about what I contributed. I deserved to eat because I worked hard for it.

But what if there was another Jennifer who felt the exact same way but only cut one tomato yet felt good about her contribution felt like she deserved to eat because she too worked hard for it. She contributed less but in her belief system feels she is equally deserving.

Here lies the dilemma. Once we start putting value on each other's work communal living goes to pot. Both problematic issues feed off each other. Judging each other's work leads to negativity.

What has your experience been with communal living and are there ways around these issues?

A Weekday in the Life of a Peace Corps Stagiere (Trainee)

I am a morning person so I typically woke up with Prayer Call which starts around 5 am. A man wanders the neighborhood crying out or if you live by a mosque an electronic prayer call is one’s morning alarm clock.

However I wouldn’t get out of bed until maybe 6-6:30 am.

Morning salutations to all 9-10 members of the family starting with the father, then the mother, and then the brothers and sisters ranging in age from 9 years old to 22 years old. My 14 year old brother would always go out and buy me some fresh bread. I would sit out on the Veranda just chilling, eating bread with butter, peanut butter, avocado with sugar, or honey until it was time to leave for school.

It was a good 15 minute walk to the high school dotted with kids yelling out Fote, Fote (white person, white person) or salutations in the local languages as I would walk through people’s yards.

From 8 am till 5 pm Monday through Friday I was in training.

During practice school the morning was spent teaching and observing classes. In the afternoon, I had language class (local language Pular) as well as numerous other sessions.

We have had sessions on safety and security. Do not walk in Conakary at night. Take a taxi. Integrate into your community when you get to site. They are your best protectors.

We had sessions on health. Don’t eat shit.

We had diversity and cultural sessions. Be aware of the heirarchrial structure of your school. Go through the right channels or else you will not be able to get anything done.

We had teaching sessions on classroom management, lesson planning, how to say chemistry words in French.

We had a few community development sessions: how to give a sensiblization on hand washing or brushing your teeth or how to go about determining the needs of a community.

Twice a week, we ate lunch at the Peace Corps office. They fed us well: meat, beans, fruit, rice and sauce.

The rest of the week I would walk the 20 minutes into the town center where I would eat rice and sauce or an omelet sandwich. A few times I ate a bean sauce with bush meat. Don’t ask me what type. I am not sure.

By 5 pm, I was drained and ready for home.

I would often buy a deep fried cassava root or some little fried manioc balls or some boiled peanuts, my Guinean fast food for the walk home.

As soon as I got home, my 19-year-old host sister would bring out a plate of rice covered with fish and red sauce or a green leaf sauce. I would eat but I would try not to eat too much because I knew I would be fed again at 8 pm.

The family would sit outside until nightfall. Sometimes I would help the brothers fill the 20 water containers. They would pull water out of the courtyard well and then I would use a funnel and a cup to fill the bidons. My host mother didn’t want me to pull water out of the well even though I really wanted to (good workout, you know?), too dangerous? In Guinea it is typically the girls who get water; however, my family was progressive. Boys cleaned the house and did the water. However the traditional role of cooking still went to my 19-year-old sister; although, a few meals were cooked by my brothers which was a HUGE deal. At the market, you never see males shopping and you rarely, rarely ever hear of males cooking.

By nightfall, if we had electricity, we would go into the hot house and eat. My family would eat rice and sauce, but they always had something different and special for me like a cucumber, potato salad or spaghetti with oil sometimes with fish meatballs, or black eyed peas.

Then my family would watch TV. There is a different local language night. Since there are 3 major local languages in Guinea, Monday night might be Sous-Sous night. News and stuff was in French though and there were lots of soap operas dubbed in French. My family loved watching African music videos.

I always preferred the nights when we didn’t have electricity. Then we would sit outside and talk and sing. Those were some beautiful moments especially when darkness was lit up like a stage with the moon as the spotlight. It was like daylight during those evenings. We would talk about so many things like religion, the differences between America and Guinea (there is a generalization here that white people and black people in the US dislike each other and people keep asking why and if it is true), what school is like, ghosts, snakes, and many other topics.

I would typically take my bucket bath after dinner and be in bed by 9-10 pm especially during practice school. A full day of French was exhausting.

Now though I am going to a new pace of life, village life. What will it be like? I have no clue. Will I cook for myself? Will I find a variety of veggies and fruits? Will I be lonely? Will I make friends?

September 5, 2006

I sit in the cool shade listening to the blaring music and a loud announcer over a megaphone. No one in my neighborhood can escape from the noise that pierces my heart. It is a party, a celebration. I watch as female guests pass my house on their way home, then silence. Is that a screaming goat or a screaming little girl? The party was for the 3 girls who were having their clitorises cut off today.

In the mornings, I lie in bed listening to screaming children who I assume are being beaten.

I remember in college reading Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice and really taking to heart Shylock's words, "If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?"

We are all human. We feel pain, love, joy, anger, and peace; however, this does not make us the same.

My body cringes when I hear the hysterical children, when I hear a screaming that I can't differentiate between a goat or a girl. My being feels their pain and my heart screams, "Stop. It is wrong. You are abusing children."

Do the Guineans feel the same sensations that are tearing up my soul? If they did wouldn't they stop? I wonder what would have to happen in order for a Guinean to feel what I feel when I hear the daily screaming neighbor children.

We are all human with various emotions, but what makes my heart twinges with angst doesn't effect everyone the same. Lots of kids here get beat and flogged. It tears me apart.

I fear that maybe I will become desensitized if I stay in this country.

I could rationalize because I feel horrible when I hear a children being beaten, it is wrong; however, the Guineans don't feel the same things I do. So is it wrong for them? In the USA we spank our children too and don't feel horrible.

When is the line crossed? When do we say, "It is universally wrong? It is inhumane?" When do we start imposing our moral judgements upon another culture?

August 31, 2006

I am exhausted.

Teaching 2 hour classes straight is incredible! The 2 hours need to be broken up with exercises, activities, games, and experiments. Sometimes the subject is so dry it is hard to find other things to do than straight lecture. For example, I am teaching oxidation and reduction to 10 th graders. We played one came using a ball to demonstrate the loss and gain of oxygen; however, I am straight out of ideas. So tomorrow it is basically straight, boring 2 hour copy from the board lecture.

With my 9th grade class today, we learned about the periodic table, so we re-enacted why atoms are different for various elements. We used flashcards to memorize the elements and then played a game of who can identify the element the fastest. That class felt like it took forever, even though I had several activities planned.

And on top of that, I had to observe a two hour class and then had a 1 hr and 30 minute session on nutrition and dental health in Guinea and then a 1 hour 15 minute class on the local language of Pular.

I went home, took a 20 minute nap, ate rice and cassava leaf sauce then then worked 2 hours on my lesson on moles. Afterwards, I ate some boiled peanuts and had dinner, black eye peas with bread.

I am not exactly stressed. I am just overworked. I have 1 week left of practice school.

What are some of my challenges?

1. Lesson planning and teaching for 2 straight hours
2. Working under headlamp conditions is pretty draining.
3. Buying things in the market is extremely draining: the heat, bargaining, and the constant attention because I am a foreigner.
4. Mosquitoes are eating my feet and ankles up and I might have bedbugs.
5. The mail system is extremely frustrating. I have not received 13 letters, but I did receive 2 packages which cost 30 dollars a piece. I find it ridiculous. Even though I appreciate the sent packages, it is ridiculous that it takes such an enormous amount of money for me to get some words of love from my friends and family. If you wish to send some words, try to send a 5 dollar letter, making it look very official, with religious symbols or write in red. It might get through.

What are some of my joys?

1. Being in a place of beauty
2. My host family especially the two girls, the 9 year old and the 19 year old
3. Soccer, running, and biking
4. Fixing my hair
5. Candles

August 27: I hate chemistry

except it is a lot more interesting and fun when I have to teach it in French to 7th-10th graders.

Lesson planning sucks though. I spend hours reading in French and then reading a 9th grade American textbook that my uncle gave me to get teaching ideas as well as to get more clear and simple explanations. I spend most of my time reading and am left with empty pages that need to be filled with notes that the students will copy from the board as well as scriptings of what I am going to say.

Last week during practice school I taught 30 7th graders about the composition of air and 25 9th graders about the electrochemistry of copper sulfate. the 7th graders didn't understand fractions or percentages or even French and the 9th graders didn't know 18-20=-2. I clocked in 10 hours of teaching and probably over 20 hours of lesson planning.

This upcoming week instead of 1 hour chemistry classes, I will be teaching the typical 2 hour chemistry classes. Can you imagine a room full of 14 year olds for 2 hours learning chemistry? I definitely need to brainstorm up activities.

As I have only recently experienced teaching sciecne to kids who will never see a lab, who will likely never have a science job, who will never have a need for the periodic table, I have learned that my teaching philosophy is to teach kids how to think, how to problem solve, and how to use brain power. Kids here just regurgitate memorized facts.

In theory this philosophy sounds great. In reality it is going to take a lot of work. In a culture with an oral tradition and with a collective based society rather than an individualistic society, I have to find news ways to teach and new ways to test.

In the educational system that the French left, reading is what leads you to success. My students copy from the blackboard letter by letter. My highly educated host family looks at the pictures of the French magazines and comic books I brought. I spend evenings in the dark with my family exchanging stories about snakes and about our past injuries. My students cheat freely on exams with the subconscious ingrained ideal that helping your neighbor is more important than your individualistic grade. It is more important to look after the well-being of the community rather than each individual's success.

I have watched my host brothers study past 10 pm under kerosene light, a group of them huddled around each other helping everyone understand. There is definitely a desire to learn. Yet there are huge gaps between everyone's reading and math levels especially between boys and girls.

What can I do to bridge the need for teaching the basics with creating a challenging learning environment for the others?

What teaching and testing styles can I use to facilitate learning in an oral and collective based culture?

Mixed feelings

August 13, 2006

For those who know me, am I an extrovert or an introvert? Do I get energized or drained from social interactions with more than one person like party atmospheres?

It is almost midnight and the music is still playing.

This morning I woke at 5:30 am to start my 2 weeks of laundry. Because of travelling for a week I got behind. It took my 19 year old sister and I at least 2 hours to finish. I try my best to conserve outfits, wearing 2 good outfits a week for school and then changing into a stay at home skirt and tank top. Three outfits a week plus dance and workout clothes. It adds up when you are washing by hand. Do I even remember the days where I would wear something once and then wash it?

I do love the simplicity of not having to pick out an outfit daily. I always wanted to wear the same outfit each day even if it meant having 7 identical outfits in my closet.

After laundry, there was shopping. It was hot. We had to walk at least 2 miles round trip and we had a lot to buy: cucumbers, eggs, seasonings, meat, flour, sugar, and onions. We had to go back to the market to buy mayo. Going to the market is hard work, heavy work, socially draining work.

At home, 5 women were in the outdoor kitchen preparing a western style feast of beef and chicken pasta with a cucumber, egg, and onion salad, using wood burning fires. Who were they preparing for? The five of them?

I walked so much today, to and from the market taking detours to hand out invitations to my evening birthday party. The next thing I knew I was sitting at a store front listening to my sister bargain in Sous-Sous with a vague French word here and there: essence (gas) 6,000 Francs. What were they talking about? Money was exchanged. We walked home. Later all of the family boys and I walked back. Each kid took a piece: a generator, 2 speakers bigger than me, a boombox, and a megaphone.

The invitations said 18 h, but luckily I was told things run two hours late. I warned the Americans. Yet we were still the first to arrive and the most tired after a weeks worth of travelling. As the Guineans were arriving, the Americans were ready to go to bed.

In this city of uncertain electricity, my 29th birthday was lit up with lights, with music blaring, with a spotlight following a video camera, 1 Liter of gas ($1).

It was a huge fete! At least 150 people. Everyone was given a plate of pasta, meat, and salad. A 3 tier cake was decorated with frosting and candles. There was a lot of dancing. A photographer was hired. My family gave me $20 worth of fabric to make clothes from. People were happy. It was a very unique and extravagant birthday especially for people who only make $100 a month.

It was enjoyable, but I was left with a lot of inner struggles.

Can you guess what they may be?

August 14, 2006

My first bouts of stress and worry in Guinea were due to my own feelings of guilt for being given such an extravagant expensive party. At weddings you bring a gift to offset the cost. But would it offend my family, if I collected a $1 from my 30 American guests who attended?

What only a $1 you may think? But that is actually a lot in Guinea. It costs $1.50 to have a tailor make you a full outfit. People's salaries are low. Food is cheap. We get $25 every two weeks as walk around cash to pay for lunches and other miscellaneous things.

I struggled with how do I repay my family? How do I process the generosity of my family? In this country where during my site visit a couple of people were extremely nice to me but then handed me a letter written in English asking for a computer, how am I suppose to react to kindness?

Thankfully, the cross-cultural coordinator was my guide. He advised me to send a committee of 2 physic/math profs, 2 chem profs, 2 English profs, and 2 trainers to say thank you. Do not give money at this point. Sometime in the future I can do something for the family.

The cross-cultural coordinator also explained to me that Guinean people are extremely generous. They love giving even if they have so little. I understand this because I love to give too. It was just hard for me to be on the receiving end, me the one who has even a hard time accepting offers of generosity to shuttle me back and forth from the Seattle airport.

We expressed our gratitude and I let go of my feelings of guilt and worry. I came to peace with my amazing 29 birthday filled with generosity and cross-cultural exchange.

My new home

My new home to be is in the Fouta region and it is gorgeous! I am pretty much in the middle of nowhere in a small village that has taxi service to the big city of Labe twice a week. The roads are dirt and pot hole ridden. I likely will not be going the 2 to 5 hours to Labe much (60 km). I have a big once a week market 5 km away and there are a couple of other Americans only 15-20 km away.

Because taxis don't go to my village every day, I took a taxi to a neighboring Peace Corps Volunteer's site. I was packed into a small truck with 16 of us, 10 in the back. It took us 4 hours to go 60 km. The next day another Peace Corps Volunteer and I hiked 14 km to my village.

I will be living in a two room concrete house that has a shower room, an outdoor pit latrine, and outdoor pump water. It is quite luxurious about 600 square feet. The school is right across the road from my place.

There are gardens everywhere. Food is plentiful: rice, cassava, corn, avocados, oranges, eggplant, limes, bananas. We even have fresh baguettes daily.

I am excited about my village. There is a lot of hiking and biking to be done in the beautiful setting of rolling hills, dotted with round hut filled villages, pastures filled with free range goats and cows who are kept out of walled up gardens.

My village is an outdoor person's dream. Getting to my village from Conakry is the hard part. It is a 2 day trip in bad cars packed full of people. If you think you can endure it, there is a slice of paradise waiting for you in West Africa.

Life is work

August 1, 2006

I live a physical life here in Guinea. In this city of about 12,000 people 28 of us Americans are training to become Peace Corps Education Volunteers. It is week 3 of 11 weeks of training.

Our minds are flooded with French, technical French specific for our teaching subject (math, chemistry, physics, English), safety and security, health and cross culture sessions from 8-17h. It is a long day of exhausting brain work that never ends. After school, my next step is home to my bilingual French and Sous Sous speaking family.

I am integrating and adapting well. I spend most of my social time with my family. We talk about divorce, domestic violence, cultural differences. We play games, crochet, make friendship bracelets, dance, tell stories, sing, and laugh a lot.

I rarely feel the heat. It is like Alabama. The evenings and shade are cool.

I love life in Guinea. Life in Guinea is physical. It is work. I sweat. I take bucket baths. I wash clothes by hand. I write by candlelight. I walk to the market to buy food. I talk, sing, and dance as entertainment. I eat freshly prepared meals cooked by wood fires daily. Dishes are washed using well water, the dirt ground as our kitchen counter. Yes this is the life for me, back to the basics, back to the simplicity of activity compared to the easy life of non-activity. Non-activity, yes I am talking about you: electricity, TV, fast food, e-mail, Internet, cars, machines, air condition.

Life is work.

Rarely do I have time to sit and think, to question and ponder the depths of my heart and soul.

Yet something has popped up.

Life is work here, but at what price do I pay for this simplicity?
gender specific roles, patriarchy, and non-equality between the sexes

Is my US Independence worth giving up for the simple Guinean utopia of life is work?

Asides:
I am taking African dance. I spend an hour soaked through dancing and dancing. I love it!

Teaching chemistry in French at practice school has been fun. I like it a lot better than teaching at the university.

Food is awesome here. I get rice and fish sauce, leaf sauce, peanut sauce. Lots of fresh avocados and French baguettes for breakfast. Try an avocado with sugar. It is like jam.

I rarely have electricity. My Internet and e-mail access is very very limited. I am in Conakry for just one night and then will be off again to the world of non-electricity. I am going to visit my site where I will be living for 2 years then I will be back in training. It is about a 12 hour ride.

I am doing very well. Life has not been stressful yet. I am waiting for a challenge to pop up.

I will try to post again at the end of August.

Best wishes my friends and family.

Love,

Jennifer