Site announcements were this week. We found out where we are going on Monday night. To give you an idea of the kind of anxiety leading up to site announcements, let me provide a brief synopsis of the narrow ramp without rails we have been negotiating.
For virtually all 35 of us (FRE 8's - Fiji Re-entry class #8), there was at least a one year span from application to departure for Fiji. For that year, we didn't know what region of the world we would be going to, let alone the country. When we finally received our invitation for Fiji, it became a whirlwind of preparing for departure - wrapping up all of our affairs. Imagine clearing your schedule for 27 months - bills, obligations, ties, relationships, everything. The enormity of what you are getting into hasn't even begun to settle in. You just know you're going (in this case literally) halfway around the world, pretty much on blind faith. For the year leading up, you think about it a lot, but you don't really know what to think about. It's a surreal process. But once the invite comes, you've got 6-8 weeks to clear the schedule, so you're dealing with that and beginning to realize just how much you don't know what you are getting yourself into.
Departure comes, you say goodbye. If you are a human being, you shed a lot of tears. For me, both of my daughters gave me letters to read when they dropped me at the airport. When I read them it was a watershed moment (in more ways than one - pardon the pun) in that they put into words what so many struggle to command - in a word, faith. They believe in me, in themselves, and in us as a family. Those letters have, and will, carry me through so much of this. It's staggering . . .
So, composure returns (then and now). You land in Fiji. You get on a bus. You go swim in the ocean (because they want to know you can). You spend 3-4 days in this blur of camp-like setting. And then you go to your host family and you begin to settle in. The novelty is gone. You are here. It is poor. You shower in a bucket. You are expected to do a lot of things to accommodate culture - things like drink grog, sit on the floor all the time, try and learn a new language, and live in a world seemingly without walls where privacy is concerned.
Immersion is a very interesting thing. It is so consuming you don't seem to miss things. I think we always miss people. We miss people when they're in the next room. Sometimes we miss them the most when they are lying next to us in bed. But the culture thing is different. Exactly that. Different. You still clean your body, it's just different. You eat. But it's different. And you adapt incredibly quickly. Time is redefined. Money is completely redefined (more on that a little later). Anyway, point is, you are IN IT. And you begin to realize they are soon going to tell you where you are going to be for 2 years. Exactly where. The name of the village or city. Whether you will be living alone or with another volunteer. If you will have electricity and/or running water (or not) for 2 years. And what kind of work you'll be doing. For 2 years.
2 years.
So, there is some anxiety leading up to site announcements. Unlike everything else in the Peace Corps, they actually consult you for this part of the process.. They want you to be successful (read: don't leave the country and adapt) wherever they send you. So there are two interviews with your program manager talking about the work and placement. Being Peace Corps though, these interviews are vague. After the first of these, I was certain of where I was going ("where" being either urban or rural). After the second one, I was less certain. But I got to voice my thoughts, preferences and desires regarding all sorts of things. The kind of work I want to do. That I want to be urban for a variety of reasons. I gave really compelling reasoning for everything that we talked about. It really makes perfect sense for me to be in Suva working for the Ministry of Health or the Ministry of Eduation. I won't get into the details here. It just makes perfect sense.
Expectations are also very interesting. I have come to work really hard at minimizing them in general, and the depth of them when I am aware of them. I know that in this process, I was aware of really trying to keep a lid on them. I am fond of saying (not my original thought) that expectations are resentments in training. But I'm beginning to believe that some expectations are a lot like falling in love. I know that for me there have been times in my life when falling in love, there's this game I have played with myself - when there's the uncertainty of whether the other person is feeling the same way, or if they can meet me the way I wish to be met. I start putting conditions on the relationship so early. Like, "well, if she doesn't feel this way about me, then I'm going to not have these feelings anymore and it won't hurt" (ha!) or "I don't want to get my hopes up" when my hopes are through the roof. The truth is I feel what I feel. I am in love. I can pretend all I want and it's not going to make any difference in the amount of pain I will experience if she can't . . .
So, like I said, it makes perfect sense for me to be in Suva working for the Ministry of Health. Politicking, convincing, figuring out systems, writing curriculum, training large groups of people, etc. All things I'm really good at.
Except that I am going to a very small, rural village to a new site for Peace Corps with no real job description and a very unclear set of objectives.
For 2 years.
Oh, I was in love. I had my hopes up. I had expectations. I was in Suva. I honestly didn't know I had the expectations until I saw the piece of paper showing me the location of the village I am going to. As I write this, it's been almost a week and I'm still learning how deep the expectations were. During the two days after site announcements, I was around all of these (mostly) really young, (mostly) really happy, people, most of whom were drinking a lot.
For site announcements, we spent 3 nights in a really nice hotel in Suva. Kind of a resort. Showers with hot water (Oh My!). A swimming pool. On the ocean. Variety of food. And a lot of alcohol. And the FRE 7's (the PCV's who came last year) were there as well. Of the 35 of us (FRE 8's), there is only one other that seemed as stunned as I was. Mostly, people are thrilled with their placements. The surfer guy (he brought 4 boards with him) is going to surf paradise. The Jodie Foster water environmental chick is going to the best dive spot in Fiji. And yes, there is the guy going to Suva to immerse into the mental health system in the Ministry of Health (I didn't even know the specific job existed).
The last week has been very up and down. I have been writing this entry in bits and pieces during the week. I have a commitment to be honest about my process in these writings, but have to be careful not to succumb to negativity - or more precisely, not to succumb to my will - what I think is the best thing for me. But before I go to faith, I will vent a smidgen more. In everything I wrote to the PC regarding the kind of work I wanted to do, I was very consistent in wanting to work for the Ministry of Health or Ministry of Education - specifically in any drug/alcohol prevention education programs. Yesterday, I was walking around and saw the front page headline on the Fiji Times - "28% Increase in Alcohol Use among Primary Students". An official was quoted with words like epidemic, our youth is at risk, etc. Right up my alley. But it would appear, not to be - at least for now.
Then there's the whole language thing - where urban makes a lot more sense because of the prevalence of English as the spoken language. The village I'm going to speaks a completely different dialect than the one I have (not) been learning. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!
Where am I going? Just outside of a small city (really a town) called Sigatoka on the southern coast of Viti Levu (the biggest island). Sigatoka is a tourist center - the town nearest resorts on the coral coast, mostly patronized by Aussies. I will be about 3 kilometers inland from the town in a village called Nakabuta Village. 22 families. 78 people. They've never had a volunteer there before. I evidently will have water and electricity and there is internet connection available in town. My job description is generic boilerplate verbiage that's the same for any rural volunteer at a new site in Fiji - water, garbage, sanitation. Usually, this means that the village - and Peace Corps - has no idea of what is needed. Essentially, I am back in the place of not really knowing what to expect - I'll find out more when I get there (July 9th I believe).
Yes, I am disappointed. Some days, I am ok with the notion of not doing a lot of work - living a very quiet life in a small village, close to amenities, close to tourists, etc. But the truth is, a major reason I joined the Peace Corps was to work. In talking with FRE 7's and FRE 6's, a lot of them talk about how much they DON'T work. A couple even said they're not here to work - they are enjoying their time here and taking advantage of the time they have. Many speak of boredom. I knew this was a distinct possibility when I applied for PC. So now, I deal with a new set of expectations, and the game in my head begins again. And of course, the truth is I don't know - anything really.
So what of faith? That is the question I am currently wrestling with. There are many forms to the question. One being, WTF am I doing here? :-) (which I'm sure some of you are asking). But the more thoughtful one is "Will I be available to see the signs?" - the clear signals that in retrospect are almost always present if we are willing to see. Or will I be too caught up in what I think I am missing out on to see? Being open to the idea that the "why's" won't be answered on my schedule - in fact not until much after the fact, or I may never receive what I consider to be a satisfactory answer - that has never been part of my equation until the last 2-3 years. I know that this newfound faith (if you will) is fragile, easily injured, but hopefully not quickly shattered.
Moce for now.
~MP~
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Dyslexia and Meke
Technically, I am not dyslexic. I have no learning disability that I am aware of. I've always known that I have struggle with language, and I suppose up until now, the knowledge of that struggle has held me back from trying to learn. Several years ago, I took an Italian class in preparation for a trip to Italy. It was an adult education class, met once a week with several other people, and I learned virtually nothing while in it. I really didn't think much of it at the time, figuring I'd find a way to get by, which I always have done.
Well, this is different. I'm now about 4 weeks into 10-15 hours a week of language in a small group of 4 people with one instructor, and I am completely lost. Everyone has said something along the lines of "oh, it will come", or "it will suddenly fall into place", and mostly "don't worry, you'll be fine". Well, to address those three in particular, I wish to share these thoughts.
"Oh, it will come". Uh, no - I'm afraid it won't. I had a realization yesterday when my teacher asked me something in Fijian and I saw her reaction to the glassy-eyed look that was creeping onto my face. ALL OF THE WORDS SOUND THE SAME TO ME! It's actually worse now than it was a week ago. There's a similarity to so many words, and differentiation isn't happening for me at the moment.
"It will suddenly fall into place". No, it won't. I have had to take and pass the series 7 securities exam twice in my life. There is a large section in that exam that has to do with options. It's all formulaic and often you will hear people say "it will suddenly fall into place", and it actually does - BECAUSE IT'S FORMULAIC. There is no rhyme or reason to Fijian language.
If Fiji doesn't have a word, they bastardize and Italianize it (no, not italicize - Italian-ize). For instance, there was no word for "Monday", so the word for monday is Moniti. Dollar is Dola. Cake is keke (maybe they soccer-star-ize it?). And there are many words (like half of them?) that begin with "vaka", but there are no rules as to why they begin with that prefix. Vaka in and of itself, doesn't mean anything. Vaka doen't lend a clue as to where the word is going. So, for me, it's like trying to learn a language completely from scratch with no frame of reference. The way my brain works is I need something to build from, and learning Fijian is like trying to build a foundation on a bottomless well - I just keep slipping deeper into the abyss.
Then, just to confuse people like me who know a very little of Italian, "dua" is the number one.
Seriously, my brain does lots of things really well. I'm good at seeing systems in a big picture perspective and then translating for others. I'm good at solving problems. In my grandiose dreams, I liken myself to Mr. Wolff from Pulp Fiction ("my name is Mr. Wolff - I solve problems"). Blah, blah, blah. I SUCK at language. I do believe that different peoples brains process language differently. For me, the only way I can explain it is to say I need it (language) to stick to something - some sort of corresponding translation. It's like there is a component missing in my brain. I can do all of the exercises in class. I can read whatever is put in front of me. I can enunciate the words fine. But virtually nothing sticks. Some vocabulary is sticking over time, but then putting it into context is almost impossible for me. If someone speaks to me in Fijian, my brain locks up. It is incredibly demoralizing.
We learned an interesting thing this week which is that they've never had Fijian language textbooks. There's only one Fijian-English dictionary in print. Rosetta Stone probably isn't on her way to the islands to create a course for us. This is due in part to the large variance in dialects among the islands. They just don't print very many books in Fijian language. In one of my conversations with the Chief, she commented (lamented, actually) on the fact that so few Fijians read books for enjoyment. All cultural knowledge is passed down verbally in stories and song. But no written word. I suspect (but don't actually know) that one of the reasons that Fiji went to English as the official language was because of the (relative) consistency of the language, and the ready availability of textbooks, along with the geographic proximity to New Zealand and Australia - and of course the long-standing relationship with England.
Anyway, I now completely understand why people who are dyslexic quit school. Everyone wants to tell me I'll pick up the language, it will come, don't worry, etc. And it leads to subtle destruction of self-confidence and makes it so that I don't want to come to class anymore. I try many different ways to communicate that it's not getting better - in fact it's getting worse and people - with their hearts in the right place and with the best of intentions - repeatedly tell me I'm wrong. At my age I recognize things I do well and things I don't do well. So it's pretty clear to me. If I were a kid with any kind of learning disability and people did not listen to what I was saying - if they continually minimized the problem and told me I would be fine, while all I did was fall farther and farther behind - well, I'd try anything to escape that hell.
This has been very informative in that regard.
Which leads me to . . .
"Don't worry, you'll be fine". Yes, I will. Pretty much everyone speaks English. I have forged incredible relationships in a very short period of time. The chief has invited me to stop by her home anytime I please to discuss whatever business I would like. She is extremely well-read and has a very dry sense of humor. Our village will be hosting all of the PCV's in our class along with their host families on the 26th of June, all at her invite. I was invited to participate in the opening Yagona ceremony of Rewa Days this past weekend - that invite being quite an honor from what I'm told. We (total of 11 PCV's) then performed a "meke" or dance.
A side note about dance. Pretty much everyone in Fiji loves to dance and sing. Every Saturday night in our village, we go to one of the PCV's host family's house for dinner and then this quartet shows up with a "lali" (drum) and they sing for about 3 hours while everyone dances. It is remarkable and wonderful and very fun. Traditional dance is a large part of any formal celebration or festival. So Rewa Days, which is a festival for the Rewa province (which our chief is the head of) happens every June, and the opening ceremony was one I sat in. And it was quite the honor.
So, back to our meke. Somehow, we got roped into doing a meke. We had no idea what we were getting into. We thought we were going to dance for the volunteers or something like that. Turns out that we were going to dance on the opening day of Rewa day for the chief and all of the villages present for the celebration (maybe a thousand people?). The men and the women dance separately, and each of us did a dance that lasted about 10 minutes (see the link!). We were a HUGE hit. Evidently, we performed this dance much better than most Fijians do in their first crack at it. Days later, strangers on the bus would look at me and laugh and say "meke - Vinaka!" (dance, very good!).
There was a newspaper story on page 3 of the Fiji Times featuring us with a closeup of one of the women during the dance. I think if one wants to endear oneself into a culture, the fastest way is through traditional dance.
Anyway, here are the links (in the men's, I'm the second from the right):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vLRMET98zd8
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PwIhiw2mrw8
More soon, as site announcements are coming.
Write back! I love hearing from people :-)
Matthew
Well, this is different. I'm now about 4 weeks into 10-15 hours a week of language in a small group of 4 people with one instructor, and I am completely lost. Everyone has said something along the lines of "oh, it will come", or "it will suddenly fall into place", and mostly "don't worry, you'll be fine". Well, to address those three in particular, I wish to share these thoughts.
"Oh, it will come". Uh, no - I'm afraid it won't. I had a realization yesterday when my teacher asked me something in Fijian and I saw her reaction to the glassy-eyed look that was creeping onto my face. ALL OF THE WORDS SOUND THE SAME TO ME! It's actually worse now than it was a week ago. There's a similarity to so many words, and differentiation isn't happening for me at the moment.
"It will suddenly fall into place". No, it won't. I have had to take and pass the series 7 securities exam twice in my life. There is a large section in that exam that has to do with options. It's all formulaic and often you will hear people say "it will suddenly fall into place", and it actually does - BECAUSE IT'S FORMULAIC. There is no rhyme or reason to Fijian language.
If Fiji doesn't have a word, they bastardize and Italianize it (no, not italicize - Italian-ize). For instance, there was no word for "Monday", so the word for monday is Moniti. Dollar is Dola. Cake is keke (maybe they soccer-star-ize it?). And there are many words (like half of them?) that begin with "vaka", but there are no rules as to why they begin with that prefix. Vaka in and of itself, doesn't mean anything. Vaka doen't lend a clue as to where the word is going. So, for me, it's like trying to learn a language completely from scratch with no frame of reference. The way my brain works is I need something to build from, and learning Fijian is like trying to build a foundation on a bottomless well - I just keep slipping deeper into the abyss.
Then, just to confuse people like me who know a very little of Italian, "dua" is the number one.
Seriously, my brain does lots of things really well. I'm good at seeing systems in a big picture perspective and then translating for others. I'm good at solving problems. In my grandiose dreams, I liken myself to Mr. Wolff from Pulp Fiction ("my name is Mr. Wolff - I solve problems"). Blah, blah, blah. I SUCK at language. I do believe that different peoples brains process language differently. For me, the only way I can explain it is to say I need it (language) to stick to something - some sort of corresponding translation. It's like there is a component missing in my brain. I can do all of the exercises in class. I can read whatever is put in front of me. I can enunciate the words fine. But virtually nothing sticks. Some vocabulary is sticking over time, but then putting it into context is almost impossible for me. If someone speaks to me in Fijian, my brain locks up. It is incredibly demoralizing.
We learned an interesting thing this week which is that they've never had Fijian language textbooks. There's only one Fijian-English dictionary in print. Rosetta Stone probably isn't on her way to the islands to create a course for us. This is due in part to the large variance in dialects among the islands. They just don't print very many books in Fijian language. In one of my conversations with the Chief, she commented (lamented, actually) on the fact that so few Fijians read books for enjoyment. All cultural knowledge is passed down verbally in stories and song. But no written word. I suspect (but don't actually know) that one of the reasons that Fiji went to English as the official language was because of the (relative) consistency of the language, and the ready availability of textbooks, along with the geographic proximity to New Zealand and Australia - and of course the long-standing relationship with England.
Anyway, I now completely understand why people who are dyslexic quit school. Everyone wants to tell me I'll pick up the language, it will come, don't worry, etc. And it leads to subtle destruction of self-confidence and makes it so that I don't want to come to class anymore. I try many different ways to communicate that it's not getting better - in fact it's getting worse and people - with their hearts in the right place and with the best of intentions - repeatedly tell me I'm wrong. At my age I recognize things I do well and things I don't do well. So it's pretty clear to me. If I were a kid with any kind of learning disability and people did not listen to what I was saying - if they continually minimized the problem and told me I would be fine, while all I did was fall farther and farther behind - well, I'd try anything to escape that hell.
This has been very informative in that regard.
Which leads me to . . .
"Don't worry, you'll be fine". Yes, I will. Pretty much everyone speaks English. I have forged incredible relationships in a very short period of time. The chief has invited me to stop by her home anytime I please to discuss whatever business I would like. She is extremely well-read and has a very dry sense of humor. Our village will be hosting all of the PCV's in our class along with their host families on the 26th of June, all at her invite. I was invited to participate in the opening Yagona ceremony of Rewa Days this past weekend - that invite being quite an honor from what I'm told. We (total of 11 PCV's) then performed a "meke" or dance.
A side note about dance. Pretty much everyone in Fiji loves to dance and sing. Every Saturday night in our village, we go to one of the PCV's host family's house for dinner and then this quartet shows up with a "lali" (drum) and they sing for about 3 hours while everyone dances. It is remarkable and wonderful and very fun. Traditional dance is a large part of any formal celebration or festival. So Rewa Days, which is a festival for the Rewa province (which our chief is the head of) happens every June, and the opening ceremony was one I sat in. And it was quite the honor.
So, back to our meke. Somehow, we got roped into doing a meke. We had no idea what we were getting into. We thought we were going to dance for the volunteers or something like that. Turns out that we were going to dance on the opening day of Rewa day for the chief and all of the villages present for the celebration (maybe a thousand people?). The men and the women dance separately, and each of us did a dance that lasted about 10 minutes (see the link!). We were a HUGE hit. Evidently, we performed this dance much better than most Fijians do in their first crack at it. Days later, strangers on the bus would look at me and laugh and say "meke - Vinaka!" (dance, very good!).
There was a newspaper story on page 3 of the Fiji Times featuring us with a closeup of one of the women during the dance. I think if one wants to endear oneself into a culture, the fastest way is through traditional dance.
Anyway, here are the links (in the men's, I'm the second from the right):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vLRMET98zd8
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PwIhiw2mrw8
More soon, as site announcements are coming.
Write back! I love hearing from people :-)
Matthew
Monday, June 7, 2010
Water and Adaptability and Cracker Butt
Water. Don't take it for granted. Start conserving now. Worship it. Worship it's cleanliness. Worship it's abundance. Appreciate the fluoride in it. Pay your water bill with a big smile on your face.
Water in Fiji is an interesting thing. It is everywhere. It rains a little (sometimes a lot) pretty much every day. Very much like Hawaii in that respect. Pretty much everyone in my village of Lomanikoro has running water in their homes. But, then out of the blue, the running water will stop, sometimes for days at a time. Which means that unless you have a tank (many families do), or you have filled several buckets with water, then bathing is out of the question until the water pressure comes back. I don't know the rhyme or reason behind the stoppage (or the starting back up) - it just happens. As for drinking/cooking water, most people keep several bottles of water just for this purpose when it stops.
Consequently bathing has become, rather quickly, a luxury. It is hot enough even in the "cool, dry season" to become sweaty-sticky every day. There is a river which surrounds the village, but very few people bathe in it because no one is quite sure what goes into it. More accurately, people are unclear of how much of various waste products go into it. Some villages don't pretend - human waste goes directly into the river. Lots of garbage ends up in the river. The river around our village feeds into the Rewa river, which is a big river. More on the Rewa river later.
Adaptable - adjective ~ able to adjust to new conditions.
The novelty of being in Fiji was gone in about 4 days.
So, the overwhelming message of this particular entry has to do with our capacity for adaptability. All of the PCV's knew to ramp down our expectations, but I don't know that we really knew what we were coming into. It is impossible not to buy into the whole notion of the beauty of Fiji - and it is beautiful here. But, village life is so different. And city life is different here as well. Most of our group are young recent college grads. Some are a little older, and some of us are set in our ways. I think we thought we would miss different things than we miss. Maybe we thought we would miss "stuff", because there's not a lot of "stuff" here.
In talking with other volunteers, all seem to be adapting really quickly. All of us feel like we've been here a lot longer than two weeks. I spent four months on Kauai before I left and I already feel like I've been here longer than that. Not in a bad way. It's just that we are "in" it here. There is no buffer from the depth of the culture here. When traveling on vacation, or even adventure traveling, there has always been a cushion of some sort - perhaps it's simply the knowledge that I will return to my life in X number of days. That has been removed. For many of the PCV's, the possibility exists that we will never return to the life that we came from. If we are going to return, it won't be for over two years. So that mindset changes EVERYTHING.
I spoke with one volunteer who will be going home in July. She has been here two years and she can't wait to go home. She feels like so much of her previous identity has been compromised or lost. Much of that has to do (I think) with the fact she is a young woman. You cannot be any lower in the pecking order in Fiji than a young woman. For many of the natives, they don't know any different. For Americans, it's a whole different story. She longs to go home and reclaim the parts of herself that have been lost, or deeply suppressed during her time here. She doesn't have regrets. It's not like that. It's just being forced to live outside of the generous parameters that we have been provided in the US.
Yet, everyone adapts. The thing we all miss the most is privacy, and we will reclaim some of that once we receive our permanent site placements (in 5 weeks from now). No one complains about missing any stuff. We all have food that we miss. We all miss people. But I don't hear any grumbling about missing the pace or the lifestyle.
I don't think I have any fear of living in poverty anymore. I'm not saying I would choose it. It just doesn't hold the power it did before. I will be making a lot of value judgments in these entries and they are simply my own observations, mostly about self. I do not wish to offend - that's not what I mean to do. But I will question our culture in the US.
I had a conversation with one of my bosses from my last job the Friday before I left. He said "go out and change the world Matt, and in a couple of years you can come back to the real world". I had a slight visceral reaction to that statement then. The reaction I have now is clear. The world he referred to as being real feels almost entirely manufactured to me. Much of the world lives in these conditions. It's hard to explain what I'm trying to say. It will come with time and I will explain it.
My head is getting stretched, trying to get it around some of the things I am facing. Like, what is it that I really miss? Is it just familiarity? I know I miss some people. Even with skype and facebook and the web, it's not the same. Something is missing, but I can't place my finger on it. I'm sure it will come in due time. I am finding my way. I am not happy nor unhappy. I am not necessarily homesick. I know I found something in Kauai now. I know I'm not attracted to shiny. I love the ocean. I love the ocean.
Work. I am ready to work. I met with the Chief (just the 2 of us) for about 45 minutes on Friday morning and she was open and honest. It was a great conversation and I am looking forward to talking with her more as my time here goes on. One of her main concerns is the Rewa river, as so much garbage and waste goes directly into it. (Evidently the Nausori waste water treatment plant dumps into the river and no one is quite sure how treated that waste water is). I am hoping that I can continue to cultivate the discussion and learn what her hopes are and help fit the Peace Corps mission into that.
As for the rivers, let's just say that you very rarely see people swimming in them and it's not because the water is cold . . .
Another comment she made is that very few people read in Fiji. We were talking about books and I had just finished "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett (?). Great book by the way. Anyway, I went into Suva to see if I could find it for her (I have it on Kindle for my iPhone). Nope. There aren't any what we would consider conventional bookstores in Fiji. People evidently just don't read. There were 3 "bookstores" that I found and the one with the most books had some Clive Cussler (?) novels and some trashy stuff. Maybe 100 books total in the store? But virtually no selection, and no selection of books in fijian language. So I had to order it along with "Team of Rivals" about Abraham Lincoln for her from Amazon.
There is so much to do here, in so many different areas. For instance, the official stance of the Ministry of Health is that smoking marijuana causes schizophrenia. Period. End of story. Mental health issues are a huge source of shame for Fijian culture. Science is pushed aside in many areas, especially mental health. There are very few mental health clinicians in Fiji. On a bigger scale, many of the M.D.'s are leaving Fiji to go to other countries to earn more money, so there is a lack of continuity in the health field in general. I had my first placement interview this week and am pushing hard to get placed in Suva to work in the Ministry of Health. I would love to go stick my nose in the mental health stuff and make an attempt to change some of the conversations that are had.
Cracker Butt. My momma used to say I had a cracker (read: flat) butt. A skinny little white boy. Well, I wish I had a bigger butt because I spend (like everyone here) an inordinate amount of time sitting on my butt on the floor cross-legged. And it hurts. All the time. The Fijians don't have cracker butts. Fortunately, the churches have pews (a gift of the various missionaries that came here). Because, for instance, today I sat through a 2 hour and 45 minute methodist service, entirely done in Fijian. If only the pews were padded . . .
Guesswork. My guess is that once I receive my permanent site placement that I will settle in. I know I harp on it, but the privacy thing is a big deal. It's not just privacy, it's having my own space. Being able to cook for myself. Not sharing a bathroom with 5 others. Not having to be "on" all the time. Once I settle in, I know I will be fine. I know I am here for a reason. I don't know what the reason is - I probably won't know until long after I've left. But I certainly have some ideas. And I will pursue those. Sorry for the lengthy nature of this entry. I'm going to use it as kind of a marker to look back on as my time here passes.
~MP~
Water in Fiji is an interesting thing. It is everywhere. It rains a little (sometimes a lot) pretty much every day. Very much like Hawaii in that respect. Pretty much everyone in my village of Lomanikoro has running water in their homes. But, then out of the blue, the running water will stop, sometimes for days at a time. Which means that unless you have a tank (many families do), or you have filled several buckets with water, then bathing is out of the question until the water pressure comes back. I don't know the rhyme or reason behind the stoppage (or the starting back up) - it just happens. As for drinking/cooking water, most people keep several bottles of water just for this purpose when it stops.
Consequently bathing has become, rather quickly, a luxury. It is hot enough even in the "cool, dry season" to become sweaty-sticky every day. There is a river which surrounds the village, but very few people bathe in it because no one is quite sure what goes into it. More accurately, people are unclear of how much of various waste products go into it. Some villages don't pretend - human waste goes directly into the river. Lots of garbage ends up in the river. The river around our village feeds into the Rewa river, which is a big river. More on the Rewa river later.
Adaptable - adjective ~ able to adjust to new conditions.
The novelty of being in Fiji was gone in about 4 days.
So, the overwhelming message of this particular entry has to do with our capacity for adaptability. All of the PCV's knew to ramp down our expectations, but I don't know that we really knew what we were coming into. It is impossible not to buy into the whole notion of the beauty of Fiji - and it is beautiful here. But, village life is so different. And city life is different here as well. Most of our group are young recent college grads. Some are a little older, and some of us are set in our ways. I think we thought we would miss different things than we miss. Maybe we thought we would miss "stuff", because there's not a lot of "stuff" here.
In talking with other volunteers, all seem to be adapting really quickly. All of us feel like we've been here a lot longer than two weeks. I spent four months on Kauai before I left and I already feel like I've been here longer than that. Not in a bad way. It's just that we are "in" it here. There is no buffer from the depth of the culture here. When traveling on vacation, or even adventure traveling, there has always been a cushion of some sort - perhaps it's simply the knowledge that I will return to my life in X number of days. That has been removed. For many of the PCV's, the possibility exists that we will never return to the life that we came from. If we are going to return, it won't be for over two years. So that mindset changes EVERYTHING.
I spoke with one volunteer who will be going home in July. She has been here two years and she can't wait to go home. She feels like so much of her previous identity has been compromised or lost. Much of that has to do (I think) with the fact she is a young woman. You cannot be any lower in the pecking order in Fiji than a young woman. For many of the natives, they don't know any different. For Americans, it's a whole different story. She longs to go home and reclaim the parts of herself that have been lost, or deeply suppressed during her time here. She doesn't have regrets. It's not like that. It's just being forced to live outside of the generous parameters that we have been provided in the US.
Yet, everyone adapts. The thing we all miss the most is privacy, and we will reclaim some of that once we receive our permanent site placements (in 5 weeks from now). No one complains about missing any stuff. We all have food that we miss. We all miss people. But I don't hear any grumbling about missing the pace or the lifestyle.
I don't think I have any fear of living in poverty anymore. I'm not saying I would choose it. It just doesn't hold the power it did before. I will be making a lot of value judgments in these entries and they are simply my own observations, mostly about self. I do not wish to offend - that's not what I mean to do. But I will question our culture in the US.
I had a conversation with one of my bosses from my last job the Friday before I left. He said "go out and change the world Matt, and in a couple of years you can come back to the real world". I had a slight visceral reaction to that statement then. The reaction I have now is clear. The world he referred to as being real feels almost entirely manufactured to me. Much of the world lives in these conditions. It's hard to explain what I'm trying to say. It will come with time and I will explain it.
My head is getting stretched, trying to get it around some of the things I am facing. Like, what is it that I really miss? Is it just familiarity? I know I miss some people. Even with skype and facebook and the web, it's not the same. Something is missing, but I can't place my finger on it. I'm sure it will come in due time. I am finding my way. I am not happy nor unhappy. I am not necessarily homesick. I know I found something in Kauai now. I know I'm not attracted to shiny. I love the ocean. I love the ocean.
Work. I am ready to work. I met with the Chief (just the 2 of us) for about 45 minutes on Friday morning and she was open and honest. It was a great conversation and I am looking forward to talking with her more as my time here goes on. One of her main concerns is the Rewa river, as so much garbage and waste goes directly into it. (Evidently the Nausori waste water treatment plant dumps into the river and no one is quite sure how treated that waste water is). I am hoping that I can continue to cultivate the discussion and learn what her hopes are and help fit the Peace Corps mission into that.
As for the rivers, let's just say that you very rarely see people swimming in them and it's not because the water is cold . . .
Another comment she made is that very few people read in Fiji. We were talking about books and I had just finished "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett (?). Great book by the way. Anyway, I went into Suva to see if I could find it for her (I have it on Kindle for my iPhone). Nope. There aren't any what we would consider conventional bookstores in Fiji. People evidently just don't read. There were 3 "bookstores" that I found and the one with the most books had some Clive Cussler (?) novels and some trashy stuff. Maybe 100 books total in the store? But virtually no selection, and no selection of books in fijian language. So I had to order it along with "Team of Rivals" about Abraham Lincoln for her from Amazon.
There is so much to do here, in so many different areas. For instance, the official stance of the Ministry of Health is that smoking marijuana causes schizophrenia. Period. End of story. Mental health issues are a huge source of shame for Fijian culture. Science is pushed aside in many areas, especially mental health. There are very few mental health clinicians in Fiji. On a bigger scale, many of the M.D.'s are leaving Fiji to go to other countries to earn more money, so there is a lack of continuity in the health field in general. I had my first placement interview this week and am pushing hard to get placed in Suva to work in the Ministry of Health. I would love to go stick my nose in the mental health stuff and make an attempt to change some of the conversations that are had.
Cracker Butt. My momma used to say I had a cracker (read: flat) butt. A skinny little white boy. Well, I wish I had a bigger butt because I spend (like everyone here) an inordinate amount of time sitting on my butt on the floor cross-legged. And it hurts. All the time. The Fijians don't have cracker butts. Fortunately, the churches have pews (a gift of the various missionaries that came here). Because, for instance, today I sat through a 2 hour and 45 minute methodist service, entirely done in Fijian. If only the pews were padded . . .
Guesswork. My guess is that once I receive my permanent site placement that I will settle in. I know I harp on it, but the privacy thing is a big deal. It's not just privacy, it's having my own space. Being able to cook for myself. Not sharing a bathroom with 5 others. Not having to be "on" all the time. Once I settle in, I know I will be fine. I know I am here for a reason. I don't know what the reason is - I probably won't know until long after I've left. But I certainly have some ideas. And I will pursue those. Sorry for the lengthy nature of this entry. I'm going to use it as kind of a marker to look back on as my time here passes.
~MP~
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