Alright ... a decision has been made.
Let me preface this with: these past three weeks have been a living HELL. grief. stress. anger. It hasn't stopped or slowed down, but rather these three emotions have been spun into high-gear and penetrated every waking and sleeping thought. Even my dreams, on the rare occasion when I do sleep, leave me exhausted. Illnesses that are too whack (three exotic, one domestic) to ever mention on a blog have simultaneously invaded my system, and make a miserable situation worse. I am exhausted. Through and through. But there is a light, albeit faint, at the end of this tunnel.
I am going to Botswana.
Botswana; most of you have heard of that, unlike Guinea. It's about the size of Texas, north of the South African border. Home to the world's largest waterfalls (Victoria Falls), safaris, and camel treks through the Kalahari Desert. World's largest inland delta (Okavango). DeBeers diamonds. Bushmen (The Gods Must Be Crazy takes place there). Clicking languages. The most stable and least corrupt government in Africa. And the 2nd highest HIV/AIDS rate in the world.
Botswana is a middle-income country. I hear there are roads and running water. Electricity. Grocery stores. They have what Guinea doesn't have. Including a crisis that is currently undoing all the development progress they've made. 4,000 teachers a YEAR are dying from HIV/AIDS. 1 in 6 people are HIV positive. Peace Corps actually "graduated" from Botswana because they had their act together, but went back in in 2003 to help out with this disaster. So that's where I come in.
No more village loans or drying mangos with market women. I am finally going to get to assume the role I wanted when I applied to Peace Corps two years ago, health work with HIV/AIDS. My actual job will be assigned after I arrive.
But this is special- I got to use my economic background in Guinea to help people in one of the poorest and most corrupt countries on the planet, and now I get the chance to explore the health field in a country that actually HAS the resources and government to put an end to HIV/AIDS. What Peace Corps Volunteer actually gets to do BOTH of these things in two very different settings? I do feel lucky. The fact that 3 of my best friends in Peace Corps are coming with me make it better.
So where is my head right now? I'm trying to accept all I've lost and left behind in Guinea and figure out when is the appropriate time to close that door. I'm trying to get excited for what seems to be a really cool country. I am thankful that I get the chance to do the HIV/AIDS work I originally wanted to do when I applied for Peace Corps. I am trying not to scream when I think about the 2 weeks of language training I will have in the capital before I can finally find a home again (this will make SIX weeks of having NO HOME and ZERO alone time). And I am ecstatic that I finally get to leave this hot, sandy, hellacious post in Mali.
Travel plans are being figured out by Peace Corps today. I could end up having my Halloween party on the 28hr flight (with insane layovers) to Gaborone. That would be exactly how I want my new boss to meet the Guinea-Transfer crew...
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
3rd World Dentists
Guinea is over. 100%. I still have no idea what's up next. But in the meantime, Peace Corps has been funneling 100 PCVs through this warp-speed medical process.
Which includes a trip to the dentist.
In Mali.
So I hop by myself into a PC car and drive away from the shacky/grimy areas of Bamako and all of a sudden we're in this beautiful luxurious high-class neighborhood of Bamako that looks as if it could be in Florida. My chauffer stops in front of a building and I get out, assuming that the dentist is somewhere around here. There's a door, and a stairwell and I start climbing stairs looking for a random dentist office. An African girl is waiting in the stairwell and motions for me to enter through a door. How did she know I'd be here at this exact time and where I wanted to go? I walk in.
And it's a waiting room. With a giant mirror and two doors. No receptionist desk. No "Bienvenue chez le dentiste" signs. Nothing but chairs, this huge mirror, and a funky looking plant. So I sit down in the chair, and wait. And I'm alone in this room hoping its the dentists office, but kind of hoping it's not and the Peace Corps will never find out because I'm terrified of dentists. Especially 3rd-world country ones. And then I hear drilling from behind the closed door. And I realize, I found the place.
Finally the door opens and my friend walks out with this horrified look on her face. She whispers "he's rough and doesn't use novocaine" and leaves me freaking out. An African woman scurries out behind her mopping the floor. And a Lebanese woman comes out and takes my name. I get ushered into "the room" and seated on the chair before I know what's going on. And this huge Lebanese man starts attacking my mouth. Turns out the Leb woman is his wife ... and they were shouting in Arabic at eachother the whole time. I'd get the occasional English command like "open" or "spit" but then when it was in French, it was a toss up as to whom it was directed. Me? The wife? He's yelling "A LOT! NOT A LITTLE!" and I'm debating whether to open wider to appease his anger or is his wife messing up the tools? No clue. And then when he starts saying "take it out" in English I start to panic- TAKE OUT WHAT?! My tooth? Turns out a filling fell out. But it didn't matter, because I had "a GOOD cavity." I don't get teeth-talk in English, let alone French or Arabic. I ended up getting (I think..) a cavity filled. No novocaine. He just started drilling, ignoring my kicking feet and flailing hands as he was chisiling out the nerve. I almost punched this angry yelling fool. But I couldn't punch him, because my hands were busy doing half the work because I was holding all the guaze in place. And then you know how dentists like to talk to you, and you can never answer.
"How are you? How's work?" Like what are you supposed to say? Does "agrrgmmmph" work?
Well this quack was a step WORSE. He's saying "okay, we filled the cavity. DO YOU SEE?" so not only can I not respond to this ignoramous because his (and my) hands were in my mouth, but HOW DO YOU REALLY THINK I CAN SEE INSIDE MY OWN DAMN MOUTH?
Ohh it was ridiculous. And painful. And I finally exited 30 minutes later in a state of shock with my heart racing faster than it has in months.
Which makes me say, Dr. Linkoff, I appreciate you. For all the times I hated going to sit in that chair of yours, I am sorry. I will never again complain. I promise.
Which includes a trip to the dentist.
In Mali.
So I hop by myself into a PC car and drive away from the shacky/grimy areas of Bamako and all of a sudden we're in this beautiful luxurious high-class neighborhood of Bamako that looks as if it could be in Florida. My chauffer stops in front of a building and I get out, assuming that the dentist is somewhere around here. There's a door, and a stairwell and I start climbing stairs looking for a random dentist office. An African girl is waiting in the stairwell and motions for me to enter through a door. How did she know I'd be here at this exact time and where I wanted to go? I walk in.
And it's a waiting room. With a giant mirror and two doors. No receptionist desk. No "Bienvenue chez le dentiste" signs. Nothing but chairs, this huge mirror, and a funky looking plant. So I sit down in the chair, and wait. And I'm alone in this room hoping its the dentists office, but kind of hoping it's not and the Peace Corps will never find out because I'm terrified of dentists. Especially 3rd-world country ones. And then I hear drilling from behind the closed door. And I realize, I found the place.
Finally the door opens and my friend walks out with this horrified look on her face. She whispers "he's rough and doesn't use novocaine" and leaves me freaking out. An African woman scurries out behind her mopping the floor. And a Lebanese woman comes out and takes my name. I get ushered into "the room" and seated on the chair before I know what's going on. And this huge Lebanese man starts attacking my mouth. Turns out the Leb woman is his wife ... and they were shouting in Arabic at eachother the whole time. I'd get the occasional English command like "open" or "spit" but then when it was in French, it was a toss up as to whom it was directed. Me? The wife? He's yelling "A LOT! NOT A LITTLE!" and I'm debating whether to open wider to appease his anger or is his wife messing up the tools? No clue. And then when he starts saying "take it out" in English I start to panic- TAKE OUT WHAT?! My tooth? Turns out a filling fell out. But it didn't matter, because I had "a GOOD cavity." I don't get teeth-talk in English, let alone French or Arabic. I ended up getting (I think..) a cavity filled. No novocaine. He just started drilling, ignoring my kicking feet and flailing hands as he was chisiling out the nerve. I almost punched this angry yelling fool. But I couldn't punch him, because my hands were busy doing half the work because I was holding all the guaze in place. And then you know how dentists like to talk to you, and you can never answer.
"How are you? How's work?" Like what are you supposed to say? Does "agrrgmmmph" work?
Well this quack was a step WORSE. He's saying "okay, we filled the cavity. DO YOU SEE?" so not only can I not respond to this ignoramous because his (and my) hands were in my mouth, but HOW DO YOU REALLY THINK I CAN SEE INSIDE MY OWN DAMN MOUTH?
Ohh it was ridiculous. And painful. And I finally exited 30 minutes later in a state of shock with my heart racing faster than it has in months.
Which makes me say, Dr. Linkoff, I appreciate you. For all the times I hated going to sit in that chair of yours, I am sorry. I will never again complain. I promise.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
rock climbing
so being in a 'peace corps refugee camp' with 100 other stressed-out PCVs is not the easiest situation in the world. last night was particularly rough. but today a small group of us went rockclimbing in what i would want to call the mountains, but the ground was all sand. i wasn't paying attention in 7th grade geography when we learned differnt environments- maybe its savannah with redrock?
anyways just hanging outside in the shade, eating peanuts still attached to the roots and climbing seemed to just take away an enormous amount of stress. which made me realize that whatever "Plan B" i decide will have to have mountains.
so that means that i am not moving to the desert in Niger.
options are finally narrowing down, thanks be to God.
anyways just hanging outside in the shade, eating peanuts still attached to the roots and climbing seemed to just take away an enormous amount of stress. which made me realize that whatever "Plan B" i decide will have to have mountains.
so that means that i am not moving to the desert in Niger.
options are finally narrowing down, thanks be to God.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Chimpanzee at the Bar
so last night a group of friends and i decided we wanted to bike down to the local bar.
so we take our bikes, do the ten minute ride, order cold beers and take our seats underneath the mango tree. all of a sudden i hear a car pull up behind me and a shrieking noise. i turn around, and next to the driver, hanging out of the passenger side of this white jalopy is a CHIMPANZEE. the chimp is laughing/shrieking, clearly excited to see these white kids, yet he is innocently baring his hideous fangs. i am paralyzed with a combination of shock and pure fear. this chimp, who's name is Roussou, is the size of a grown person. no less intimidating is the link chain and metal lock fastened around his neck. my paralysis leaves me unable to flee like my mind is telling me to (i'm imagining scenes where the chimp jumps out of the car and chomps his fangs into my neck giving me HIV) and before i can make a move the chimp has calmly gotten out of the car, and shut the door. Him and his owner walk up to our table, and the chimp proceeds to shake our hands. THE CHIMP SHOOK THE HAND OF EACH AND EVERY PERSON AT OUR TABLE. so of course when it's my turn, i don't dare reject Roussou's outstretched hand. but as soon as he moved i got up from the table and ran into the bushes with so much adrenaline/fear/shock running through my system i nearly threw up. the africans (and the americans) died laughing at my ridiculous (over)reaction. the chimp calmly walked to the bar owner, received a Coke, thanked the owner and climbed back into the car and drank his bottle of Coke as they drove away.
So that is what I've been doing in Mali. Other activities have/will include:
Tours of Bamako
Sudan v. Mali World Cup Qualifier Soccer Game
Markets
Restaurants (with the best food/atmosphere I've seen in 10 months)
Hiking
Biking (home from bars)
Rock Climbing
Swimming at the American Club
Volleyball
Concerts
Clubs
Peace Corps is taking care of us and making the best of a bad situation. They've somehow managed to take a traumatic evacuation and turn it into Club Med Mali. I can't complain. But I can mock the duffel bag of board games PC/Washington flew out to keep up morale.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Mali.
Hey guys.
So a lot of you have heard that Peace Corps Guinea is, well, no longer in Guinea. It’s true. We “consolidated” (the euphemism for “evacuated”) and are now in Mali, which was about a 16 hour drive north from Mamou.
I can’t even begin to describe the emotions of being ripped from a place you love- my friends, coworkers, neighbors, a great job, a beautiful house … I haven’t had to “move away” since the first grade. And it’s terrible. Absolutely awful. Tears haven’t stopped since last Saturday. I can’t think/focus/eat/talk about this without breaking down. I stayed next to friends for my final hours, and climbing into the back of the Peace Corps vehicle 7am Wednesday morning and watching as my home, my street, my city, my country, grow smaller and smaller out the back window, is an awful vivid memory that I can’t seem to erase from my mind.
We’re “waiting” right now. We might go back in 14 days if the “situation” clears up. But unless an assassinating dictator steps down from power, a divided military makes up, and democratic elections are promised to take place, in 14 days, I think I’m going to be forced to find Plan B.
No, I don’t know what Plan B is. Which also compounds the stress/emotions.
I have nothing else to write as of now, but you don’t need to worry about my safety. Thanks for all the encouraging emails. I’m praying this will all be over soon enough.
So a lot of you have heard that Peace Corps Guinea is, well, no longer in Guinea. It’s true. We “consolidated” (the euphemism for “evacuated”) and are now in Mali, which was about a 16 hour drive north from Mamou.
I can’t even begin to describe the emotions of being ripped from a place you love- my friends, coworkers, neighbors, a great job, a beautiful house … I haven’t had to “move away” since the first grade. And it’s terrible. Absolutely awful. Tears haven’t stopped since last Saturday. I can’t think/focus/eat/talk about this without breaking down. I stayed next to friends for my final hours, and climbing into the back of the Peace Corps vehicle 7am Wednesday morning and watching as my home, my street, my city, my country, grow smaller and smaller out the back window, is an awful vivid memory that I can’t seem to erase from my mind.
We’re “waiting” right now. We might go back in 14 days if the “situation” clears up. But unless an assassinating dictator steps down from power, a divided military makes up, and democratic elections are promised to take place, in 14 days, I think I’m going to be forced to find Plan B.
No, I don’t know what Plan B is. Which also compounds the stress/emotions.
I have nothing else to write as of now, but you don’t need to worry about my safety. Thanks for all the encouraging emails. I’m praying this will all be over soon enough.
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