Whenever people outside of the US think of Americans, what do they think of? From what I gather, they think of Bush and Obama, Rihanna, Michael Jackson, Eminem, and Chuck Norris. They fearfully think of Columbine, 2Pak videos, and 9-11. And they think of opulence; dollar bills pouring freely from over-stuffed pockets.
For many folks living in rural Santo Antao, Cape Verde, their image of America is tied to the NATO Troops. Some years ago, for reasons that I’ve not been able to piece together, there was a unit of American NATO military personnel living and working in Cape Verde. What their official business was, I have no clue. However, the impression that they left was that their purpose was to give away gifts. My neighbors have shared with me happy tales of the materials donated to schools, pieces of candy given to children, and food items provided to families.
What the Troops are equally famous for, however, is of greater interest to me personally. One evening, several enlisted men joined a dance party at our town’s store/bar. Where they good dancers? I don’t know. Did they make the ladies swoon? Well, at least not in the intended way. All that remains of the Troops’ legacy is that…. wait for it….. they loudly and shamelessly passed gas. All of them. And they thought it was hilarious.
And thus publicly passing gas is what comes to mind when my neighbors think of Americans.
Skip ahead to 2010. Enter Scott and Melissa.
Upon arrive in our community, Scott and I proudly introduced ourselves around town as Volunteers from America. Unbeknownst to us, we hit two unfortunate misrepresentations with one stone.
In Cape Verdean Kriol, the term “volunteer” is most often used in the following phrase screeched at children by an infuriated mother: “ ‘cha de volunterismo!”
Loosely translated: “Enough of the Volunteerism!”
Meaning: “Stop acting like an idiot!”
And so we go.
Of all the millions of things that you’ll do in your life, it’s downright inspiring to imagine what you’ll be remembered for. Furthermore, as a Peace Corps Volunteer, an entire community may form an impression of an entire nation of people based on your actions.
Scott and I are busy marching around Cape Verde acting like “volunteers” and representing you- all of you Americans, with our every word and deed. Watch out ; )
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Friday, September 30, 2011
The Circle, the Circle of Life
Spring is in the air in Santo Antao, Cape Verde. The weather is beginning to grow cooler, but just two short days of rain were enough to launch the growing season into full swing. The mountain sides have turned a brilliant green, and beans, corn, squash and potatoes have sprouted and thrived. With luck, we’ll have one more day of rain in the next week or two, and that will be enough moisture to carry us through to the harvest. A hand-full of rainy days constitutes the entire Cape Verdean “rainy season.”
Our baby chicks that hatched in April are all grown up. When the young roosters began trying out their pubescent, voice-cracking crows, we knew it was time for a chicken dinner. (1 rooster is plenty. 4 was entirely too many.) Rooster #2 was laid to rest on a bed of mashed potatoes, covered with a delicious BBQ sauce, and accompanied by a side salad. Mm mmm. Although we intentionally avoided naming the birds and hadn’t develop much of a loving relationship, I felt a little sad to kill R2. After all, he did still come running when I called “baby chicks!” at feeding time. Scott and I petted him gently before killing him and hid the process and evidence from the other chickens. I’m fairly certain that we’re the only people in town who have ever been concerned with the psychological effects of their actions on their chickens.
Last night our friend Antonio arrived at our house with an unexpected treat. Ruby Sue has returned from pasture, and she has a bun in the oven! Ruby was husky before, but now she’s downright bulbous. It’s hard to say when exactly she got herself into this predicament (her free time with other goats was largely unchaperoned), but we’ve been told to expect a goatlette in October. I am very excited.
Scott and I have reached the official mid-point of our service in Cape Verde. To commemorate the occasion, we joined the 20 other volunteers from our training group to attend a mid-service conference. We were also subjected to a medical exam including needles, urine specimens and stool samples. Providing feces in a cup was a new experience for most of our group, and we were all very concerned that the hotel housekeeper would check one of our mini fridges and immediately escort us from the premises. In a couple of weeks we should know whether Scott and I are hosting any internal guests. It was no surprise that all other tests came back clear; we’ve been very healthy so far.
According to the PC medical office, mid-service is the time when volunteers are supposed to sink into a depression. Neither Scott nor I am there yet, but I have to admit that knowing we’ve reached the half way point has caused me to look at my service in a different, slightly panicky light. What can I realistically expect to accomplish in the time that remains? I have plenty of ideas for projects, but I feel certain that many of them will closely resemble fertilizer and far fewer will sprout.
And now some photos...
Who doesn´t love a good squash?
We ate the one on the left.
Ruby Sue got knocked up.
Our baby chicks that hatched in April are all grown up. When the young roosters began trying out their pubescent, voice-cracking crows, we knew it was time for a chicken dinner. (1 rooster is plenty. 4 was entirely too many.) Rooster #2 was laid to rest on a bed of mashed potatoes, covered with a delicious BBQ sauce, and accompanied by a side salad. Mm mmm. Although we intentionally avoided naming the birds and hadn’t develop much of a loving relationship, I felt a little sad to kill R2. After all, he did still come running when I called “baby chicks!” at feeding time. Scott and I petted him gently before killing him and hid the process and evidence from the other chickens. I’m fairly certain that we’re the only people in town who have ever been concerned with the psychological effects of their actions on their chickens.
Last night our friend Antonio arrived at our house with an unexpected treat. Ruby Sue has returned from pasture, and she has a bun in the oven! Ruby was husky before, but now she’s downright bulbous. It’s hard to say when exactly she got herself into this predicament (her free time with other goats was largely unchaperoned), but we’ve been told to expect a goatlette in October. I am very excited.
Scott and I have reached the official mid-point of our service in Cape Verde. To commemorate the occasion, we joined the 20 other volunteers from our training group to attend a mid-service conference. We were also subjected to a medical exam including needles, urine specimens and stool samples. Providing feces in a cup was a new experience for most of our group, and we were all very concerned that the hotel housekeeper would check one of our mini fridges and immediately escort us from the premises. In a couple of weeks we should know whether Scott and I are hosting any internal guests. It was no surprise that all other tests came back clear; we’ve been very healthy so far.
According to the PC medical office, mid-service is the time when volunteers are supposed to sink into a depression. Neither Scott nor I am there yet, but I have to admit that knowing we’ve reached the half way point has caused me to look at my service in a different, slightly panicky light. What can I realistically expect to accomplish in the time that remains? I have plenty of ideas for projects, but I feel certain that many of them will closely resemble fertilizer and far fewer will sprout.
And now some photos...
Who doesn´t love a good squash?
We ate the one on the left.
Ruby Sue got knocked up.Friday, September 9, 2011
Tea Time
Peruse the family photo album circa 1990, and you’re likely to find a photo of a gapped-toothed mini Melissa wearing a blue and white sailor dress and posing next to a crumpet. That’s right, a crumpet. And a scone, and a china cup full of Earl Grey.
The scene was not the result of my passion for scones but rather the consequence of a school project requiring a creative choice of theme. My mother must have grown tired of helping me research monkeys, cats and the rain forest, and so she suggested a different topic: English high tea.
Fast forward a couple of decades and you’ll find me enjoying another afternoon tea. Last Saturday was the grand finale of the Young Women’s Business and Culinary Training. The ladies decided to showcase their skills by hosting a “Tarde de Cha” or “Afternoon Tea.”
Naturally, this meant greeting pre-teens at my door before 7 am, running to and fro to arrange ingredients and utensils, hand beating 3 cakes, carrying tables and chairs up 4 flights of stairs, helping support a young man standing on the shoulders of another while he ripped a light fixture off the wall, and pole dancing.
What?! I did say pole dancing, but let me clarify that no one removed any clothing in the process.
By now you may be starting to suspect that Cape Verdeans do Afternoon Teas a little differently than the Brits. Much like Ike and Tina, Cape Verdeans “never never do nothing nice and easy.” They like their gatherings loud and bursting with energy. As a result, guests at our party sipped their juice, coffee, and spiked punch (ironically, no one ordered tea) while jamming to the rhythms of Rhianna, Bob Marley, and a variety of Cape Verdean club artists. Between mouthfuls of fish fritters, brownies, sweet potato/banana/corn cakes, pizza, orange cake, couscous and donuts, people hit the dance floor. Carmen and her mom tested out their arm strength by swinging around the poles supporting the shade cloth. Some of the older guests kept both feet on the ground, but moved to the beat none the less.
Our tea party began at 3 and ended around 9:30 when our single light bulb burned out. The timing was spectacular given that our bottle of grogue had just gone dry.
I felt proud of the 22 young women that worked hard to host the event. They demonstrated their abilities to properly prepare each dish, maintain a hygienic kitchen, calculate costs, select product prices, attend clients and keep accounting records.
Pinkies up and cheers to the graduates of the Young Women’s Business and Culinary Training!
One more thing: Rain has come to the Cape Verdean islands! Within 48 hours of our first of two rain events, the landscape was transformed from a dusty brown to a vibrant green. It is literally breathtaking. Better yet, the rain means the start of the planting season. Folks are exhausted from all the agricultural work but giddy with the thoughts of sprouting corn, beans, potatoes, and squash.
The scene was not the result of my passion for scones but rather the consequence of a school project requiring a creative choice of theme. My mother must have grown tired of helping me research monkeys, cats and the rain forest, and so she suggested a different topic: English high tea.
Fast forward a couple of decades and you’ll find me enjoying another afternoon tea. Last Saturday was the grand finale of the Young Women’s Business and Culinary Training. The ladies decided to showcase their skills by hosting a “Tarde de Cha” or “Afternoon Tea.”
Naturally, this meant greeting pre-teens at my door before 7 am, running to and fro to arrange ingredients and utensils, hand beating 3 cakes, carrying tables and chairs up 4 flights of stairs, helping support a young man standing on the shoulders of another while he ripped a light fixture off the wall, and pole dancing.
What?! I did say pole dancing, but let me clarify that no one removed any clothing in the process.
By now you may be starting to suspect that Cape Verdeans do Afternoon Teas a little differently than the Brits. Much like Ike and Tina, Cape Verdeans “never never do nothing nice and easy.” They like their gatherings loud and bursting with energy. As a result, guests at our party sipped their juice, coffee, and spiked punch (ironically, no one ordered tea) while jamming to the rhythms of Rhianna, Bob Marley, and a variety of Cape Verdean club artists. Between mouthfuls of fish fritters, brownies, sweet potato/banana/corn cakes, pizza, orange cake, couscous and donuts, people hit the dance floor. Carmen and her mom tested out their arm strength by swinging around the poles supporting the shade cloth. Some of the older guests kept both feet on the ground, but moved to the beat none the less.
Our tea party began at 3 and ended around 9:30 when our single light bulb burned out. The timing was spectacular given that our bottle of grogue had just gone dry.
I felt proud of the 22 young women that worked hard to host the event. They demonstrated their abilities to properly prepare each dish, maintain a hygienic kitchen, calculate costs, select product prices, attend clients and keep accounting records.
Pinkies up and cheers to the graduates of the Young Women’s Business and Culinary Training!
One more thing: Rain has come to the Cape Verdean islands! Within 48 hours of our first of two rain events, the landscape was transformed from a dusty brown to a vibrant green. It is literally breathtaking. Better yet, the rain means the start of the planting season. Folks are exhausted from all the agricultural work but giddy with the thoughts of sprouting corn, beans, potatoes, and squash.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Esse Gato
There are several people in our town that have what Americans would consider pets. These little guys, however, are a far cry from the pampered pooches that ride in Americans’ purses. Cape Verdean pets earn their keep by handling specific household duties (pest control, kitchen clean-up, burglar deterrent). If they slack off, they’re easily and remorselessly removed from the premises.
People rarely touch these animals and feed them as somewhat of an afterthought. Still, some of the beasts have managed to demonstrate a quality that the community finds endearing, and they have earned themselves a special place of esteem. They’re joyfully greeted by name and are sometimes even caressed by the clueless neighborhood Peace Corps Volunteers who are apparently unaware that dogs and cats are filthy.
Naming these mutts seems to be viewed as an opportunity to demonstrate one’s wit. A dog that keeps close to our home is called ‘Tipol’ - a word which can either be the brand name of a dish soap or mean “Uncle Paul” depending on a slight difference in emphasis.
‘Bopai’ is a squatty little dog that runs throughout town never more than three feet from the heels of his master. The dog’s name means ‘your dad,’ which is also the common response to a question you’d rather not answer- much like the ever-popular “yo mamma.” People like to declare, “Look, there’s Your Dad.”
The newest edition to the town’s furry family is a kitten belonging to our next door neighbor, Juninha. ‘Esse Gato’ is mischievous and endlessly entertaining. He likes to pounce through piles of beans as you sort them on the floor. One evening he tried to investigate an hour-old calf and delighted a crowd of bystanders by spiking his tiny tail and scurrying in rapid retreat when the mother cow mooed an emphatic warning. He has yet to learn that sniffing candles is a health hazard and therefore has only nubs for eyebrows and whiskers. I like having him around.
Esse Gato has become a special source of entertainment for all of us not only because of his kitten antics but because of his name. ‘Esse Gato’ means ‘this cat’ in Portuguese Kriol, but the fun is in the pronunciation. His name is pronounced ‘Esgot,’ almost indistinguishably similar to ‘Scott.’
The similarity has made everyday conversations much more amusing. I say, “Have you seen Scott?” and am told, “He’s in that tree” or “He’s chasing chickens over there.” Either response leaves room for doubt as to whether friends are referring to my husband or not. We’ve all gotten a good laugh out of the situation.
The cat’s name has also served as a learning tool for the pronunciation of Scott’s name. For the entire 11 month period before Esse Gato’s arrival, people largely avoided referring to Scott by name. They called him sir, dude, or Melissa’s husband, but couldn’t figure out how to say ‘Scott.’ Most attempts were closer to ‘Scar’ - an alternative that Scott is sad to see fizzle out; he was trying to reinvent himself as an X-Men character. Thanks to Esse Gato people are no longer hesitant to shout out a typical greeting, “Oh Scott- all good?”
Without further adieu, allow me to present Scott’s namesake, Esse Gato.
People rarely touch these animals and feed them as somewhat of an afterthought. Still, some of the beasts have managed to demonstrate a quality that the community finds endearing, and they have earned themselves a special place of esteem. They’re joyfully greeted by name and are sometimes even caressed by the clueless neighborhood Peace Corps Volunteers who are apparently unaware that dogs and cats are filthy.
Naming these mutts seems to be viewed as an opportunity to demonstrate one’s wit. A dog that keeps close to our home is called ‘Tipol’ - a word which can either be the brand name of a dish soap or mean “Uncle Paul” depending on a slight difference in emphasis.
‘Bopai’ is a squatty little dog that runs throughout town never more than three feet from the heels of his master. The dog’s name means ‘your dad,’ which is also the common response to a question you’d rather not answer- much like the ever-popular “yo mamma.” People like to declare, “Look, there’s Your Dad.”
The newest edition to the town’s furry family is a kitten belonging to our next door neighbor, Juninha. ‘Esse Gato’ is mischievous and endlessly entertaining. He likes to pounce through piles of beans as you sort them on the floor. One evening he tried to investigate an hour-old calf and delighted a crowd of bystanders by spiking his tiny tail and scurrying in rapid retreat when the mother cow mooed an emphatic warning. He has yet to learn that sniffing candles is a health hazard and therefore has only nubs for eyebrows and whiskers. I like having him around.
Esse Gato has become a special source of entertainment for all of us not only because of his kitten antics but because of his name. ‘Esse Gato’ means ‘this cat’ in Portuguese Kriol, but the fun is in the pronunciation. His name is pronounced ‘Esgot,’ almost indistinguishably similar to ‘Scott.’
The similarity has made everyday conversations much more amusing. I say, “Have you seen Scott?” and am told, “He’s in that tree” or “He’s chasing chickens over there.” Either response leaves room for doubt as to whether friends are referring to my husband or not. We’ve all gotten a good laugh out of the situation.
The cat’s name has also served as a learning tool for the pronunciation of Scott’s name. For the entire 11 month period before Esse Gato’s arrival, people largely avoided referring to Scott by name. They called him sir, dude, or Melissa’s husband, but couldn’t figure out how to say ‘Scott.’ Most attempts were closer to ‘Scar’ - an alternative that Scott is sad to see fizzle out; he was trying to reinvent himself as an X-Men character. Thanks to Esse Gato people are no longer hesitant to shout out a typical greeting, “Oh Scott- all good?”
Without further adieu, allow me to present Scott’s namesake, Esse Gato.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Rain Dance
In every foot race there is a moment of silent anticipation before the shot is fired that sends the runners into action and the crowd into an uproar. It feels like our community in Santo Antao is frozen in that moment, except that instead of waiting on a gun blast, we’re waiting on a thunder clap.
The ground has long since been prepared for the planting of crops and roofs have been mended and primed for a down pour, but alas, no rain.
Cape Verde is a semi-arid to arid country, and we’re currently in the thick of it- the aridness, that is. The little spring next to our home is still steadily dripping water from the rock, but the surrounding hillsides have taken on a crunchy brown hue. The ground has become a fine dust that easily blows in the wind and makes walking downhill a more interesting experience.
Farmers are anxious for the drizzle that will propel them into action- planting, weeding, and providing a welcome green meal for their animals. In the meantime, the community is sort of sitting and waiting, anxiously staring at the sky and hoping that the rain will come. (There have been drought years in the past when it never did, and life changed dramatically for all of Cape Verde.)
Amidst the waiting, Scott and I have been staying busy. Scott recently finished a forest inventory project with a group of Cape Verdean ecologists and foreign partners. They spent their days walking across difficult terrain and measuring the density of tree growth as well as the variety of species. It was precisely the kind of work that Scott is accustomed to, and he thoroughly enjoyed the 2 months or so spent with the team.
He’s currently preparing a research proposal as part of his master’s work that will hopefully dovetail nicely with the objectives of the new national park plan. His day to day often includes traveling around the island with two other park workers to record park boundaries and growth of invasive species. The team is still anticipating the hire of two more members that may help the project move forward at a more steady pace.
I have taken advantage of summer vacation to organize a four-week culinary and small business management training for the community’s young women. Each day a different woman from a surrounding town comes to present a recipe, and we cook the dish together. Afterwards, I present a basic business-related theme. The ladies feel like I’m a very demanding facilitator since I’ve been a stickler for timeliness and insist that everyone take a lot of notes. I’m impressed by all the hard work that they’ve already put into the program, and I hope that its completion will be a source of pride and confidence booster for the participants. Ideally, the certificates that they will receive at the end of the course will help the ladies in their job searches.
Our week in picutres:
The ground has long since been prepared for the planting of crops and roofs have been mended and primed for a down pour, but alas, no rain.
Cape Verde is a semi-arid to arid country, and we’re currently in the thick of it- the aridness, that is. The little spring next to our home is still steadily dripping water from the rock, but the surrounding hillsides have taken on a crunchy brown hue. The ground has become a fine dust that easily blows in the wind and makes walking downhill a more interesting experience.
Farmers are anxious for the drizzle that will propel them into action- planting, weeding, and providing a welcome green meal for their animals. In the meantime, the community is sort of sitting and waiting, anxiously staring at the sky and hoping that the rain will come. (There have been drought years in the past when it never did, and life changed dramatically for all of Cape Verde.)
Amidst the waiting, Scott and I have been staying busy. Scott recently finished a forest inventory project with a group of Cape Verdean ecologists and foreign partners. They spent their days walking across difficult terrain and measuring the density of tree growth as well as the variety of species. It was precisely the kind of work that Scott is accustomed to, and he thoroughly enjoyed the 2 months or so spent with the team.
He’s currently preparing a research proposal as part of his master’s work that will hopefully dovetail nicely with the objectives of the new national park plan. His day to day often includes traveling around the island with two other park workers to record park boundaries and growth of invasive species. The team is still anticipating the hire of two more members that may help the project move forward at a more steady pace.
I have taken advantage of summer vacation to organize a four-week culinary and small business management training for the community’s young women. Each day a different woman from a surrounding town comes to present a recipe, and we cook the dish together. Afterwards, I present a basic business-related theme. The ladies feel like I’m a very demanding facilitator since I’ve been a stickler for timeliness and insist that everyone take a lot of notes. I’m impressed by all the hard work that they’ve already put into the program, and I hope that its completion will be a source of pride and confidence booster for the participants. Ideally, the certificates that they will receive at the end of the course will help the ladies in their job searches.
Our week in picutres:
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Pomp and Circumstance
On Saturday, I arrived at the 6th grade graduation ceremony more or less on time, and I was surprised to see that others had done the same. Normally in Cape Verde, “on time” is synonymous for “alone.” In an ironic twist, the organizers of the event were the only ones who weren’t punctual. As we all waited 2 hours for the hosts to arrive and prepare decorations and food, guests and graduates leaned against a wall in such a way that caused our feet to be lined up in a perfect row.
As my eyes scanned over the row of feet, I noticed that each woman and girl had carefully painted their toenails. My pale toes were the exception, and I made a meager attempt at tucking them a little further back, as if it would make them less visible. My clunky sandals stood out noticeably among the delicate high heels and shining new slippers- all bedazzled with plastic rhinestones. It was clear that graduation day was the first day that the shoes had taken to the road.
The ladies were all dressed in their best. The dress code that day, as with every special occasion, was ‘wear something clean that you think is pretty.’ That meant that some women wore what would pass as a prom dress or a bad bridesmaid’s gown while other wore tight-fitting jeans and a graphic top. Whatever the garment, they were all lacking the tell-tale marks of washboard laundering. The clothes were all brand-spanking new.
Keeping with theme, the women had painstakingly styled their hair. Chemical treatments straightened out crimps, and rollers added volume back in. Some women had spent hours sitting still while a trusted friend worked her magic creating perfectly parallel braids and meticulous designs. Cape Verdean women are talented braiders.
An enormous amount of care had been put into each women’s appearance- down to the tiniest detail. When does this happen in America, I thought? To this extent, probably only at weddings. All this fanfare for a 6th grade graduation? Overkill, perhaps.
As the ceremony was about to begin, I asked Lydia, my neighbor seated next to me, how many of her kids would be attending secondary school now that her 6th grader was graduating. I know that she has at least 5 sons, and I’m not exactly sure how many of the little girls habitually playing near her house belong to her. She replied, “just one.”
I must have furrowed my brow when I said, “I thought you had a few sons that are school age,” because her face was almost apologetic in response. She explained that one of her sons already studies at the secondary school in the city, and he’ll continue with his classes. The son graduating that day, however, would not continue with school. Her family does not have the money to pay his school transportation each month. One son already receives support to cover his costs, and it is unlikely that a second child of the same family will be eligible for assistance too.
And so the ceremony and celebration continued for me in a new light, seeming suddenly unlike overkill. For some of the students, we were recognizing the greatest scholastic honor they would ever achieve. It was a bittersweet experience to celebrate the end of the children’s studies and their official entrance into the world of working adults- a world in which they have already mastered most all of the manual skills and practical knowledge that they’re likely to need for the rest of their lives.
As my eyes scanned over the row of feet, I noticed that each woman and girl had carefully painted their toenails. My pale toes were the exception, and I made a meager attempt at tucking them a little further back, as if it would make them less visible. My clunky sandals stood out noticeably among the delicate high heels and shining new slippers- all bedazzled with plastic rhinestones. It was clear that graduation day was the first day that the shoes had taken to the road.
The ladies were all dressed in their best. The dress code that day, as with every special occasion, was ‘wear something clean that you think is pretty.’ That meant that some women wore what would pass as a prom dress or a bad bridesmaid’s gown while other wore tight-fitting jeans and a graphic top. Whatever the garment, they were all lacking the tell-tale marks of washboard laundering. The clothes were all brand-spanking new.
Keeping with theme, the women had painstakingly styled their hair. Chemical treatments straightened out crimps, and rollers added volume back in. Some women had spent hours sitting still while a trusted friend worked her magic creating perfectly parallel braids and meticulous designs. Cape Verdean women are talented braiders.
An enormous amount of care had been put into each women’s appearance- down to the tiniest detail. When does this happen in America, I thought? To this extent, probably only at weddings. All this fanfare for a 6th grade graduation? Overkill, perhaps.
As the ceremony was about to begin, I asked Lydia, my neighbor seated next to me, how many of her kids would be attending secondary school now that her 6th grader was graduating. I know that she has at least 5 sons, and I’m not exactly sure how many of the little girls habitually playing near her house belong to her. She replied, “just one.”
I must have furrowed my brow when I said, “I thought you had a few sons that are school age,” because her face was almost apologetic in response. She explained that one of her sons already studies at the secondary school in the city, and he’ll continue with his classes. The son graduating that day, however, would not continue with school. Her family does not have the money to pay his school transportation each month. One son already receives support to cover his costs, and it is unlikely that a second child of the same family will be eligible for assistance too.
And so the ceremony and celebration continued for me in a new light, seeming suddenly unlike overkill. For some of the students, we were recognizing the greatest scholastic honor they would ever achieve. It was a bittersweet experience to celebrate the end of the children’s studies and their official entrance into the world of working adults- a world in which they have already mastered most all of the manual skills and practical knowledge that they’re likely to need for the rest of their lives.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Cape Verdean Gothic
Reclining on the couch in America, when we envisioned our Peace Corps futures, animals and gardens were always part of the picture. Not that either one of us had experience with raising livestock or even much practice growing vegetables, but we had always wanted to give it a try and felt that Peace Corps service was the time to do it.
We were delighted, then, when we learned that we’d be moving to a rural, agricultural community. We were even more excited on the day of our arrival at site, to see that our house was decked out as a veritable homestead, complete with partitioned garden plots, a chicken house, and a barn-like building big enough for larger livestock.
In our 9 months as novice mini-agriculturists, we’ve had plenty of unusual experiences and several unexpected outcomes. Here are a few lessons we’ve learned along the way.
Not all dung is created equal: while it’s true that adding manure to your soil will make it more fertile, keep in mind that adding donkey dung to the soil is basically the same as adding rocks.
Don’t be stingy with your seeds: No matter how well you think you prepared your garden plots or followed the instructions on the seed packets, there is no guarantee that your plants will actually sprout. For several weeks we have been nursing a solitary carrot- the only one that chose to grow.
Feed your friends: A great reason for having a garden is to share your produce with friends and return a tiny portion of all the food they’ve shared with you. Some folks get excited about tasting new plant varieties. In response to Scott’s, “try this lettuce,” one man eagerly munched out of the palm of Scott’s hand. He apparently enjoyed the mixed greens. Others, however, have flatly refused to try a snap pea, insisting that it has to be shelled and boiled to be edible.
Despite their tiny brains, you can’t outsmart a chicken: Our battle against the roaming neighborhood chickens has been a bit like a Tom and Jerry episode (sans explosives… so far.) In spite of Scott’s extensive efforts to fortify our garden, there is always at least one rogue bird scratching and pecking at our plants. Our temporary solution is to keep an arsenal of rocks on hand in order to counter attack. Success? Severely limited.
Goats don’t like to be lead on walks: Melissa had imagined that she and our goat would become good friends. There was even some talk of leading Ruby Sue on walks around town. The goat had other plans. The first time that Melissa tried to lead Ruby to her pen for the night, Ruby tugged her to the ground and dragged her a few yards before she could stop herself on a rock. They have more of a working relationship than a companionship.
Take care of your teats: If a goats’ udders are not properly cared for, or handled according to the goat’s personal preference, you’re headed for trouble. Our goat, for instance, has what our neighbors refer to as ‘ticklish teats.’ Ruby’s response to being tickled is a head butt to her attacker’s knees. It only takes a couple of head butts to learn your lesson.
Every rural family needs a rooster: When we started keeping chickens, our neighbors were appalled that we would keep hens without a rooster. They insisted that the birds, like women, wouldn’t be happy without having a ‘man’ around. According to neighbors, the hens would be so distraught that they wouldn’t lay. Naturally, we later paraded all around town to show off our first egg produced rooster free. Turns out that our neighbors were right about the emotional state of the hens, though. The girls kept trying to escape. One went AWOL and evaded recapture for months. When we added our obnoxiously vocal rooster to the flock, however, the hens were downright giddy. And honestly, who doesn’t enjoy the sound of a 5 o’clock rooster crow?
Community children = free labor: Lugging water to the garden from the nearby spring can be time consuming and tiring. However, once the neighborhood children discover that your watering can shee-shee’s (peepee’s) on your plants, you can rest assured that you’ll have a ready supply of helping hands. Now to convince the kids that you don’t need help weeding… They tend to be over zealous.
Trying our hand at gardening and caring for animals has, along with the Peace Corps experience in general, provided ample opportunity to practice humility, but it has also helped us to relate to our neighbors in a way that would have been impossible otherwise. In a town where conversation revolves around beans and goats, having a garden and caring for animals is an automatic ‘in.’ Besides, there’s nothing as satisfying as eating the food that your own labor helped to produce. For instance, that single sliced okra floating in last night’s soup- delicious. And you can bet that solitary carrot will contribute to a mean salad.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
O Sao Joao
After a long communication hiatus, I’ve finally managed to find a location with functioning internet in the city of Porto Novo. The cyber café’s internet connection has been on the fritz for the last month, which has lead to a frustrating feeling of being even more isolated than usual. I’ve missed you guys.
First I’d like to send a shout out to all of the new Peace Corps Cape Verde Volunteers that will be headed this way in the next couple of weeks. I hope that you’re all enjoying time with your friends and families and feeling excited about the upcoming trip. We’re looking forward to meeting you!
That said, Scott and I are just shy of having been in Cape Verde for one year. It’s unbelievable to think that the months have flown by so quickly. Being out of touch with some of our normal cultural and seasonal reminders of the passage of time has almost made it feel like time is standing still.
Here on the island of Santo Antao, one significant signal of the passage of time is the festival of Sao Joao Baptista that is celebrated every year on June 24th. Cape Verdeans like their parties large, and so as to be expected, this year’s festival of Sao Joao was a multi-day affair with several weeks of activities (sport tournaments, races, beauty pageants, expos) that served as pep-rallies to get folks in the mood for the big day.
The most notable of all the Sao Joao customs is the Coladeira dance that accompanies traditional drumming. Last week Scott and I went into Porto Novo to see the coladiera competition and to pretend that we also knew how to cola properly. Please experience a bit of Cape Verdean culture by practicing the following coladeira steps in your living room, cubicle, or public transport system – wherever you happen to be at the moment.
1. Find a partner
2. Stand together
3. Back away from each other
4. Move towards each other
5. Bang your pelvises together (Careful- this is a “Funniest Home Videos” incident waiting to happen)
6. Repeat steps 3-5 until you switch partners or tire out. Don’t bother waiting till the end of the ‘song,’ ‘cause there isn’t one. The drumming continues for hours.
Another Sao Joao tradition is a 20 kilometer procession carrying a statue of Sao Joao from a chapel in Ribeira das Patas to a chapel in Porto Novo. We’re fortunate enough to have a friend, Cecilia, in RdP that hosted us for the night and accompanied us on the hike. We started the walk at 8 am and arrived in the city at about 3 in the afternoon. All along the way there was drumming and dancing. The crowd paused a few times en route to mob families who generously offered free dishes of catxupa. The hot sun made the last third of the trip pretty tiring even considering that we were wearing good shoes and are accustomed to long walks. Some people made the journey along the cobblestone road in high heels or dollar store flip-flops that blew out half way through. Ouch.
Once we made it into the city, there was more coladeira, horse races, music in the streets, concerts, and food stands set-up just for the event.
Among all the revelry, it may not seem that the festival was much of a religious occasion, but many people were as or more enthusiastic to attend the mass in honor of Sao Joao. People frequently pray to the patron saint asking for favors and making promises in return. Many times, the repayment for a conceded favor is making the 20 km trek accompanying Sao Joao’s statue or presenting food offerings to the statue while at the chapel.
Whatever people’s motivation for attending the festival, there is no denying that the event was a big deal. Now, how can I harness this seasonal enthusiasm and turn it into a wide-spread passion for environmental education and income generating activities? ; ) Those plans will have to be put on hold until after next weekend when our tiny community, not to be outdone, hosts its own festival for the local patron saint. This week my local partners are all consumed with preparations.
Party on, Wayne.
First I’d like to send a shout out to all of the new Peace Corps Cape Verde Volunteers that will be headed this way in the next couple of weeks. I hope that you’re all enjoying time with your friends and families and feeling excited about the upcoming trip. We’re looking forward to meeting you!
That said, Scott and I are just shy of having been in Cape Verde for one year. It’s unbelievable to think that the months have flown by so quickly. Being out of touch with some of our normal cultural and seasonal reminders of the passage of time has almost made it feel like time is standing still.
Here on the island of Santo Antao, one significant signal of the passage of time is the festival of Sao Joao Baptista that is celebrated every year on June 24th. Cape Verdeans like their parties large, and so as to be expected, this year’s festival of Sao Joao was a multi-day affair with several weeks of activities (sport tournaments, races, beauty pageants, expos) that served as pep-rallies to get folks in the mood for the big day.
The most notable of all the Sao Joao customs is the Coladeira dance that accompanies traditional drumming. Last week Scott and I went into Porto Novo to see the coladiera competition and to pretend that we also knew how to cola properly. Please experience a bit of Cape Verdean culture by practicing the following coladeira steps in your living room, cubicle, or public transport system – wherever you happen to be at the moment.
1. Find a partner
2. Stand together
3. Back away from each other
4. Move towards each other
5. Bang your pelvises together (Careful- this is a “Funniest Home Videos” incident waiting to happen)
6. Repeat steps 3-5 until you switch partners or tire out. Don’t bother waiting till the end of the ‘song,’ ‘cause there isn’t one. The drumming continues for hours.
Another Sao Joao tradition is a 20 kilometer procession carrying a statue of Sao Joao from a chapel in Ribeira das Patas to a chapel in Porto Novo. We’re fortunate enough to have a friend, Cecilia, in RdP that hosted us for the night and accompanied us on the hike. We started the walk at 8 am and arrived in the city at about 3 in the afternoon. All along the way there was drumming and dancing. The crowd paused a few times en route to mob families who generously offered free dishes of catxupa. The hot sun made the last third of the trip pretty tiring even considering that we were wearing good shoes and are accustomed to long walks. Some people made the journey along the cobblestone road in high heels or dollar store flip-flops that blew out half way through. Ouch.
Once we made it into the city, there was more coladeira, horse races, music in the streets, concerts, and food stands set-up just for the event.
Among all the revelry, it may not seem that the festival was much of a religious occasion, but many people were as or more enthusiastic to attend the mass in honor of Sao Joao. People frequently pray to the patron saint asking for favors and making promises in return. Many times, the repayment for a conceded favor is making the 20 km trek accompanying Sao Joao’s statue or presenting food offerings to the statue while at the chapel.
Whatever people’s motivation for attending the festival, there is no denying that the event was a big deal. Now, how can I harness this seasonal enthusiasm and turn it into a wide-spread passion for environmental education and income generating activities? ; ) Those plans will have to be put on hold until after next weekend when our tiny community, not to be outdone, hosts its own festival for the local patron saint. This week my local partners are all consumed with preparations.
Party on, Wayne.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Say Cheese
Today I have a special request for those of you out there who have a spare digital camera tucked in the back corner of your junk drawer. (Remember when all the cameras on the market were 3.2 megapixels? Sure, you can’t enlarge the shots to create a flawless photo mural, but they still make very decent prints.)
The school year is coming to a close in Cape Verde, and the children are all about to be released for nearly 3 months to pursue their daily whims. Unfortunately, in our sleepy little town, daily whims are severely limited. The kids will continue handling their chores, watching bad Brazilian tv during the electricity hours, and improvising games with the neighbors. Life will be the same as always except that there will be an extra 5 hours to fill. A good amount of that time will likely be spent staring off into space or thinking up ways to get into trouble… including drinking and early sexual activity.
This is where you come in. The Peace Corps encourages Volunteers to initiate community programs, in addition to their regular work duties, that coincide with their own interests and hobbies. I’ve got it in my head that I would like to organize a photography club for 4th to 8th graders.
The club would teach the basics of camera usage and some photography elements. Since most of the kids here have never held a camera in their hands, I anticipate them being pretty excited at the opportunity to practice with technology. In addition, and more importantly, I plan to use the club as a means to develop community appreciation and cultural pride. Child development studies show that instilling cultural pride and a sense of belonging in at-risk kids is often the first step towards making positive life decision.
I envision the photography club kids taking pictures of family members that are important to them and writing letters of thanks. I’m hoping that we can walk through our protected natural areas and learn through the camera lens about the importance of biodiversity. I’d like for us to capture images of artisans and the work that they do to preserve Cape Verdean traditions.
Our club meetings will culminate in a community art show with a display of the photographs and a chance for grown-ups to express praise and pride in the children.
My goal is to arrange 5 or more digital cameras (with memory cards) so that the kids can take pictures in teams of 4. I would be delighted if any of you could help me in this effort. If you’d be willing to donate a camera, please contact me at melissabenton@hotmail.com as quickly as possible since cross-Atlantic mail services is pretty stinking slow.
What else is new?
On Sunday, we hosted the much anticipated Women’s Day activity. It was 2 months off from the actual national holiday, but better late than never, right? There were some setbacks: our domestic violence and women’s health presenters bailed. But there were also victories. Never before has there been any recognition of Women’s Day in our community, and ladies have already begun talking about making the activities an annual occurrence. The greatest point of celebration was the example of 6 men who worked very hard to cook for the 100 or so women who were in attendance. The guys even put on flowered aprons for the task- a real statement in a rather machismo society. Preparations and the day of the event were exhausting and a true trial of patience and flexibility. In the end, however, I think that the day counted as a success. If for no other reason than the lasting statement of men supporting their women.
Scott was one of the heroic cooks. He’s also been very busy lately working in partnership with another Ministry of Agriculture employee to train forestry guards in tree identification and record-keeping of plant lifecycles. It’s a challenging tasks since most of the guards are unable to read. He’s also planning a “Planet Earth” film showing this weekend. (He’s the BBC’s best commercial for that series. He’s probably already forced you to borrow it from us ; ) He’ll be taking advantage of the gathering to present on the health benefits of the moringa tree and distribute seedlings.
All good things and reasons to say ‘cheese.’
The school year is coming to a close in Cape Verde, and the children are all about to be released for nearly 3 months to pursue their daily whims. Unfortunately, in our sleepy little town, daily whims are severely limited. The kids will continue handling their chores, watching bad Brazilian tv during the electricity hours, and improvising games with the neighbors. Life will be the same as always except that there will be an extra 5 hours to fill. A good amount of that time will likely be spent staring off into space or thinking up ways to get into trouble… including drinking and early sexual activity.
This is where you come in. The Peace Corps encourages Volunteers to initiate community programs, in addition to their regular work duties, that coincide with their own interests and hobbies. I’ve got it in my head that I would like to organize a photography club for 4th to 8th graders.
The club would teach the basics of camera usage and some photography elements. Since most of the kids here have never held a camera in their hands, I anticipate them being pretty excited at the opportunity to practice with technology. In addition, and more importantly, I plan to use the club as a means to develop community appreciation and cultural pride. Child development studies show that instilling cultural pride and a sense of belonging in at-risk kids is often the first step towards making positive life decision.
I envision the photography club kids taking pictures of family members that are important to them and writing letters of thanks. I’m hoping that we can walk through our protected natural areas and learn through the camera lens about the importance of biodiversity. I’d like for us to capture images of artisans and the work that they do to preserve Cape Verdean traditions.
Our club meetings will culminate in a community art show with a display of the photographs and a chance for grown-ups to express praise and pride in the children.
My goal is to arrange 5 or more digital cameras (with memory cards) so that the kids can take pictures in teams of 4. I would be delighted if any of you could help me in this effort. If you’d be willing to donate a camera, please contact me at melissabenton@hotmail.com as quickly as possible since cross-Atlantic mail services is pretty stinking slow.
What else is new?
On Sunday, we hosted the much anticipated Women’s Day activity. It was 2 months off from the actual national holiday, but better late than never, right? There were some setbacks: our domestic violence and women’s health presenters bailed. But there were also victories. Never before has there been any recognition of Women’s Day in our community, and ladies have already begun talking about making the activities an annual occurrence. The greatest point of celebration was the example of 6 men who worked very hard to cook for the 100 or so women who were in attendance. The guys even put on flowered aprons for the task- a real statement in a rather machismo society. Preparations and the day of the event were exhausting and a true trial of patience and flexibility. In the end, however, I think that the day counted as a success. If for no other reason than the lasting statement of men supporting their women.
Scott was one of the heroic cooks. He’s also been very busy lately working in partnership with another Ministry of Agriculture employee to train forestry guards in tree identification and record-keeping of plant lifecycles. It’s a challenging tasks since most of the guards are unable to read. He’s also planning a “Planet Earth” film showing this weekend. (He’s the BBC’s best commercial for that series. He’s probably already forced you to borrow it from us ; ) He’ll be taking advantage of the gathering to present on the health benefits of the moringa tree and distribute seedlings.
All good things and reasons to say ‘cheese.’
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Scott and I have had trouble getting to the internet recently, but I wanted to share some information about a fair that took place a couple of weeks ago. Preparations had us, and everyone else in town, busy for more than a month.
On April 30 and May 1st, people from all around our zone united to host a fair in celebration of Dia do Trabalhador, or Laborer’s Day. The event was the first major undertaking of a new community association and proved that the population, when willing to unite for a common good, is capable of achieving ambitious goals.
In preparation for the event, association members cut 100 tree posts and carried them balanced on their heads over mountainous terrain. The posts were then used to create a shaded structure with partitioned booths for the fair. The construction efforts lasted about one week and were a total OSHA nightmare. Due to Cape Verdean super-human capabilities and pure luck, however, no one was hurt.
A staff of four women cooked tirelessly for three days serving breakfast by 8 and, for those who were dancing the night away, a late dinner after 11. Two pigs and two goats offered their services as part of the meal as well.
The event kicked off with the arrival of a group of drummers, and more people with drums steadily arrived all through the day. Who knew that everyone in town had a drum hidden away in the house? Pounding persisted throughout the entire weekend. It was very loud but kind of entrancing. Workers and guests alike moved continuously to the beat - while selling goods, eating lunch, and shouting conversations to their friends. It’s hard to hold still while standing next to a drum line.
The older gentleman drumming is named Frank. Every day he greets me with “Bom dia, Melita.” No one else has mistaken my name for ‘Melita,’ but since he’s a little hard of hearing and has already been corrected a hundred times by neighbors, I let it slide. I’ve been called worse.
A group of actors dressed in costume and provided improv entertainment during the day. In the evening, they presented an hour-and-a-half long show. The crowd was captivated by their humor. A man in long johns and a top hat is just funny.
Vendors sold a variety of goods: fruits and vegetables, crafted items, livestock (and pigeons for roasting), fresh cheese, baked goods, and brownies branded “American chocolate cake.” The brownies were a hit. Scott and I were sold out before the fair officially began on both days.
On Sunday there was a donkey race and donkey beauty competition. On a normal day it’s only young boys who can be seen riding on donkeys, but grown men couldn’t stand to be left out of this challenge. Some of them looked like they’d outgrown their poor burros.
And what would a Cape Verdean party be without a DJ?
Association members worked for weeks to prepare for the fair, and all their hard work played off. Scott and I, as fellow members of the community association, lent a hand where and when we were able. We were happy to be part of the event that was such a treat for our community and look forward to helping out with future projects as well.
On April 30 and May 1st, people from all around our zone united to host a fair in celebration of Dia do Trabalhador, or Laborer’s Day. The event was the first major undertaking of a new community association and proved that the population, when willing to unite for a common good, is capable of achieving ambitious goals.
In preparation for the event, association members cut 100 tree posts and carried them balanced on their heads over mountainous terrain. The posts were then used to create a shaded structure with partitioned booths for the fair. The construction efforts lasted about one week and were a total OSHA nightmare. Due to Cape Verdean super-human capabilities and pure luck, however, no one was hurt.
A staff of four women cooked tirelessly for three days serving breakfast by 8 and, for those who were dancing the night away, a late dinner after 11. Two pigs and two goats offered their services as part of the meal as well.
The event kicked off with the arrival of a group of drummers, and more people with drums steadily arrived all through the day. Who knew that everyone in town had a drum hidden away in the house? Pounding persisted throughout the entire weekend. It was very loud but kind of entrancing. Workers and guests alike moved continuously to the beat - while selling goods, eating lunch, and shouting conversations to their friends. It’s hard to hold still while standing next to a drum line.
The older gentleman drumming is named Frank. Every day he greets me with “Bom dia, Melita.” No one else has mistaken my name for ‘Melita,’ but since he’s a little hard of hearing and has already been corrected a hundred times by neighbors, I let it slide. I’ve been called worse.
A group of actors dressed in costume and provided improv entertainment during the day. In the evening, they presented an hour-and-a-half long show. The crowd was captivated by their humor. A man in long johns and a top hat is just funny.
Vendors sold a variety of goods: fruits and vegetables, crafted items, livestock (and pigeons for roasting), fresh cheese, baked goods, and brownies branded “American chocolate cake.” The brownies were a hit. Scott and I were sold out before the fair officially began on both days.
On Sunday there was a donkey race and donkey beauty competition. On a normal day it’s only young boys who can be seen riding on donkeys, but grown men couldn’t stand to be left out of this challenge. Some of them looked like they’d outgrown their poor burros.
And what would a Cape Verdean party be without a DJ?
Association members worked for weeks to prepare for the fair, and all their hard work played off. Scott and I, as fellow members of the community association, lent a hand where and when we were able. We were happy to be part of the event that was such a treat for our community and look forward to helping out with future projects as well.
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