Hello everyone,
(Quick note: pics can be found at: daninaceh.blogspot.com)
This summer I have accepted a position in Banda Aceh, Indonesia. This town was first known as the gateway of Islam into Southeast Asia, hundreds of years later it was known as the main city in war-torn Aceh province, and now it is best known as "that place where the tsunami hit."
I am working with the United Nations (UNORC) which has been here in this capacity for nearly four years. It was established after OCHA (the UN humanitarian organization) started to pull out of the region, but before the area had actually recovered from the devastating tsunami. Roughly 170,000 people were killed in Banda Aceh, 500,000 were displaced, not to mention the tremendous damage to infrastructure like homes, buildings, and records. So, this branch of the UN was established, in cooperation with the BRR (national governmental organization) as a governmental assistance mechanism - the only organization of its kind in the world.
The work now is mostly trying to make the transition form a UNORC and BRR assisted provincial government to a government that can exist without any outside help. This is easier said than done when, for example, the Governor is an ex-combatant who was imprisoned before the tsunami hit. The gentleman is charismatic and wants to do right by his people, but his capacity is lacking. So, my work (at this moment) consists of wrting a document called the ARF (Aceh Recovery Framework) that the government can use as a launching point for more effective governance. The section I am working on consists of three parts: "Rule of Law, Democratic Decentralization, and Good Governance." I have 5 pages to clearly explain the blueprints the government should use for this ... wonderful.
Of course, the majority of my work is just reiterating what the government has said with some clarified mechanisms and priorities. It is difficult, though, to pick and choose the words and to find what is missing in all of this that should be mentioned.
Quick notes about my life here (which will be elaborated on in future posts): my housing situation is great, the weather is hot, it smells like a combination of burning trash and cloves, air conditioning is wonderful, the coffee here is amazing, the food is spicey but tastey and my roommates are very kind.
I am going to continue posting text to this blog, but I think I'll keep the pictures at the other one because posting pictures takes a while, but clicking to the other blog just takes a second.
Take care, my friends,
Dan
Friday, May 30, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Avocado sandwiches
Let me explain what an average day is like here for me in Buduburam. When I was still living on camp, I used to wake up early with the rooster crowing and the sounds of pots and pans between 5am and 6am. I think I have already described this experience. Now I am living across the street; and although not officially part of camp still has the same get-up-early mentality. This morning, for the second time in a row, a man made 'camp announcements' at 4:30am. I swear he had his loudspeaker directly outside my window and was screaming at me in my bed. This bizarre form of communication continued for about a half an hour when he clearly was bored with my inaction and moved down the camp to try the same thing on some innocent sleeping souls. Since this has now happened twice, I suppose I will have to expect the same tomorrow.
After I finally go back to sleep, my alarm goes off at 6:30am. I usually meet one of our partners at the internet cafe to teach them some super-western way of reporting finances or writing proposals (google docs, that is). So far they are getting the hang of it, but there is still little computer literacy so it is incredibly time consuming - especially combined with the slow internet and intermittent change in computers when one crashes. If I am not doing this, I am cooking a Liberian breakfast (rice or gari with beans or fish) with the School Feeding Program - created by my organization - to feed every child at the elementary school before they start classes in the morning.
Then I wander down the main dirt street - I just found out they call 18th street - which is full of food and clothing stalls, little kids shouting 'white womaaahhhn', and men asking if I want to change money, just to find my favorite spot for breakfast. I eat an egg and bread sandwich - probably one of my favorite foods on camp since Abraham, the Sierra Leonian who cooks it puts all sorts of garlic (don't cringe Yanina) and onion in there. He also even has an espresso machine and puts in way too much sugar to make a super-sweet coffee. I love it; it is like drinking pure caffeinated honey. I sit in the shade and enjoy my breakfast, watching whatever he has on TV - usually Aljazeera news or a soccer match - or talking to my neighbors.
By this time it is usually around 10:30 and I have other meetings at the school or with the organizations I work with - either to train or meet about finances, reports, organizational methods, blah, blah, blah. The rest of the day is usually me running around the camp from meeting to meeting and getting burned. At least once a day I go down to the orphanage where I spend 3/4 my time talking business with the adults, and 1/4 the time cuddling various babies screaming to be on my lap. It's really fun.
You are probably wondering why I've titled this entry 'Avocado sandwiches.' Well, this is usually what I am thinking about throughout all of this activity every day. They have massive avocados here - actually, correction, they are called 'butter pears' here. At the end of my long day I usually buy one and make a sandwich just like old times in the Blakeley kitchen at Fletcher. With a little salt and mayonnaise, it pretty much tops off a productive and exciting day.
After I finally go back to sleep, my alarm goes off at 6:30am. I usually meet one of our partners at the internet cafe to teach them some super-western way of reporting finances or writing proposals (google docs, that is). So far they are getting the hang of it, but there is still little computer literacy so it is incredibly time consuming - especially combined with the slow internet and intermittent change in computers when one crashes. If I am not doing this, I am cooking a Liberian breakfast (rice or gari with beans or fish) with the School Feeding Program - created by my organization - to feed every child at the elementary school before they start classes in the morning.
Then I wander down the main dirt street - I just found out they call 18th street - which is full of food and clothing stalls, little kids shouting 'white womaaahhhn', and men asking if I want to change money, just to find my favorite spot for breakfast. I eat an egg and bread sandwich - probably one of my favorite foods on camp since Abraham, the Sierra Leonian who cooks it puts all sorts of garlic (don't cringe Yanina) and onion in there. He also even has an espresso machine and puts in way too much sugar to make a super-sweet coffee. I love it; it is like drinking pure caffeinated honey. I sit in the shade and enjoy my breakfast, watching whatever he has on TV - usually Aljazeera news or a soccer match - or talking to my neighbors.
By this time it is usually around 10:30 and I have other meetings at the school or with the organizations I work with - either to train or meet about finances, reports, organizational methods, blah, blah, blah. The rest of the day is usually me running around the camp from meeting to meeting and getting burned. At least once a day I go down to the orphanage where I spend 3/4 my time talking business with the adults, and 1/4 the time cuddling various babies screaming to be on my lap. It's really fun.
You are probably wondering why I've titled this entry 'Avocado sandwiches.' Well, this is usually what I am thinking about throughout all of this activity every day. They have massive avocados here - actually, correction, they are called 'butter pears' here. At the end of my long day I usually buy one and make a sandwich just like old times in the Blakeley kitchen at Fletcher. With a little salt and mayonnaise, it pretty much tops off a productive and exciting day.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Observations
My previous posts have been about the crazy adventures of three Spanish-speaking Americans in China. Now that we've arrived at the Chinese Foreign Affairs University for the "official" part of our trip to China, I thought I'd take a few minutes to list some observations that struck me during the past few weeks traveling.
1. Timezones- China does not have different timezones. The entire country is exactly 12 hours ahead of Eastern Time.
2. Chinese Tourists - I never expected to see so many Chinese tourists. Most places I've visited don't have much of a domestic tourist market, so it was a pleasant surprise to see so many locals enjoying the picturesque towns and breathtaking vistas that we saw.
3. Strawberries - When we arrived in Lijiang, the first thing I noticed was the massive quantities of strawberries for sale for very cheap on the side of the road. I had them in my granola the first morning at Mama Naxi's, and they were as delicious as they looked.
4. Sleeper Bus - In China, the overnight bus means the Sleeper Bus, which instead of seats has two levels of actual beds, three across, an isle then a single. The back of the bus has one big queen-sized bed meant to hold five people. Joanna aptly described the experience (we took an 8-hour sleeper from Lijiang to Kunming) as sleeping in your own coffin. Sandy and I shared the big bed in the back of the bus with an adorable old Chinese couple that unfortunately began snoring as soon as the lights went out.
5. Flashpacking - While hiking Tiger Leaping Gorge, a Brit dubbed Sandy, Jo and I "Flashpackers" for our preference for staying in private rooms with en-suite bathrooms while traveling. I think I might be old enough that I really don't appreciate or enjoy staying in the hostel dorms with communal bathrooms. I love staying in the hostel and meeting cool people on different journeys from around the world, but I really like my own space at the end of the day. Thus, it was great traveling in a group of three since really wasn't much more to "upgrade."
Tomorrow, we start bright and early at 8:00 a.m. dressed in our finest business suits to start The Asia Foundation's study tour. I can't believe my time in China is already half over, but I'm excited to see what the next two weeks will hold.
1. Timezones- China does not have different timezones. The entire country is exactly 12 hours ahead of Eastern Time.
2. Chinese Tourists - I never expected to see so many Chinese tourists. Most places I've visited don't have much of a domestic tourist market, so it was a pleasant surprise to see so many locals enjoying the picturesque towns and breathtaking vistas that we saw.
3. Strawberries - When we arrived in Lijiang, the first thing I noticed was the massive quantities of strawberries for sale for very cheap on the side of the road. I had them in my granola the first morning at Mama Naxi's, and they were as delicious as they looked.
4. Sleeper Bus - In China, the overnight bus means the Sleeper Bus, which instead of seats has two levels of actual beds, three across, an isle then a single. The back of the bus has one big queen-sized bed meant to hold five people. Joanna aptly described the experience (we took an 8-hour sleeper from Lijiang to Kunming) as sleeping in your own coffin. Sandy and I shared the big bed in the back of the bus with an adorable old Chinese couple that unfortunately began snoring as soon as the lights went out.
5. Flashpacking - While hiking Tiger Leaping Gorge, a Brit dubbed Sandy, Jo and I "Flashpackers" for our preference for staying in private rooms with en-suite bathrooms while traveling. I think I might be old enough that I really don't appreciate or enjoy staying in the hostel dorms with communal bathrooms. I love staying in the hostel and meeting cool people on different journeys from around the world, but I really like my own space at the end of the day. Thus, it was great traveling in a group of three since really wasn't much more to "upgrade."
Tomorrow, we start bright and early at 8:00 a.m. dressed in our finest business suits to start The Asia Foundation's study tour. I can't believe my time in China is already half over, but I'm excited to see what the next two weeks will hold.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Setting the scene
The ride from the airport gave a little flavor for what I would witness in greater intensity later on; the extent to which Bissau is crumbling. The airport road is one of few paved roads in the capital. After riding around in the jeep for a long time, I came to the conclusion that dirt roads are far superior to paved roads in that you can drive down them without losing any teeth. There are streets here that are impassable because enormous potholes and pot-humps (imagine the opposite of a pothole) are alternatively filled with water, growing grass, or sheltering some errant animal. We turned down a dirt road near the largest building around, the UN compound, which is sandwiched between what I have nicknamed “Buzzards Lagoon” (Trash-filled Pond #1) and “Brown Betty” (Trash-filled Pond #2).
There is a crazy man who lives by the side of the lake. He sleeps amid hundreds of green glass bottles that he has cleaned and arranged in a pattern around his sleeping body under an old tree. The day I arrived there was also a young man with a huge ax hacking apart the rusted skeleton of an old car for scrap-metal. The lake is surrounded by what looks like a trash dump, but probably is not. Somewhat ingeniously, local people have converted huge old shipping containers from the port into family dwellings and storefronts. A block from the UN there is a corner store that is a red shipping container with a shop window and door cut out of it. As clever as they may be, I’m sure it’s like living inside an oven.
It is hot and humid, and I am more than grateful to be temporarily living in my boss’s room at the Ruby Hotel, one block from the UN. The hotel is run by the affable João, who welcomed me warmly upon arrival. Despite the maddening heat, he was dressed in a pinstripe suit with a green tie, a black turban balanced on his head and a pair of gold-rimmed aviator sunglasses perched on his nose. (To answer your question: nobody wears turbans here, it's his own personal fashion statement). Apparently he has a soft spot for Janet, and has already promised that the new dirt road in front of the hotel will be christened “Rua do Janet” (Janet’s Street). She negotiated with him to make it sound more local, so now the informal name is “Rua do D’Jane,” which ends up sounding just about the same. He has also given her a Roberto Carlos song (an old-time Brazilian crooner who sings love songs), in which the lyrics earnestly declare, “woman of 40, I want to be your boyfriend.”
There is a crazy man who lives by the side of the lake. He sleeps amid hundreds of green glass bottles that he has cleaned and arranged in a pattern around his sleeping body under an old tree. The day I arrived there was also a young man with a huge ax hacking apart the rusted skeleton of an old car for scrap-metal. The lake is surrounded by what looks like a trash dump, but probably is not. Somewhat ingeniously, local people have converted huge old shipping containers from the port into family dwellings and storefronts. A block from the UN there is a corner store that is a red shipping container with a shop window and door cut out of it. As clever as they may be, I’m sure it’s like living inside an oven.
It is hot and humid, and I am more than grateful to be temporarily living in my boss’s room at the Ruby Hotel, one block from the UN. The hotel is run by the affable João, who welcomed me warmly upon arrival. Despite the maddening heat, he was dressed in a pinstripe suit with a green tie, a black turban balanced on his head and a pair of gold-rimmed aviator sunglasses perched on his nose. (To answer your question: nobody wears turbans here, it's his own personal fashion statement). Apparently he has a soft spot for Janet, and has already promised that the new dirt road in front of the hotel will be christened “Rua do Janet” (Janet’s Street). She negotiated with him to make it sound more local, so now the informal name is “Rua do D’Jane,” which ends up sounding just about the same. He has also given her a Roberto Carlos song (an old-time Brazilian crooner who sings love songs), in which the lyrics earnestly declare, “woman of 40, I want to be your boyfriend.”
Arrival in Bissau...
It was a long flight. The beverage service had to be canceled because every time the drinks were poured a new batch of turbulence hit and orange juice splattered in all directions. Arriving in Dakar was a chaotic and sweaty affair. I somehow fumbled my way through customs and emerged in the baggage claim where I was instantly mobbed by baggage handlers dressed in khaki yelling instructions in my ear. I managed to fake them out, grab my enormous, overstuffed (exactly 50 lb) duffel only to find another "helper" waiting who grabbed it out of my hands, saying, "I'm your friend." Then he proceeded to loudly demand 20 dollars. I snatched my bags back and faced the next challenge: going outside the airport and back into the arrival gate to catch my flight to Bissau. As I emerged from the doorway, it was as if someone had rung an alarm, because people came running from all directions to hassle me about taxis, money exchanges and so on. Luckily French 1 had taken me as far as NON MERCI and I bellowed it until I made it back into the terminal.
I had a long hot wait in a non-air conditioned, under-construction terminal for another 5 hours with no water or food until the Bissau flight was called. It was a short hour-long ride in a small prop plane. Most of the passengers were Guineans but there were a few oddballs in the mix beside myself. I decided to entertain myself by playing "find the narco" which ended up being a very short game indeed. The man in the seat in front of me was Spanish-speaking, sweaty and anxious, with black sunglasses, huge piles of luggage and a black Versace shirt unbuttoned nearly to his waist. But you never know, he could have been an SSR advisor to the Spanish Government. Anything is possible!
The airport in Bissau was completely different than Dakar. There were people lined up out on the tarmac to greet people, shaking hands and laughing and nobody haranguing you for money. Luckily, Janet (my boss) had sent a driver (Fofana) from the UNDP (PNUD in Portuguese) to help me out, I found him quickly as he was dressed in a baby-blue outfit and holding a sign with my name. He pulled me out of the "foreigner" line at customs and pulled me through the diplomatic line to get my luggage while he negotiate with customs officials. I had been told it was no problem to enter without a visa, that I would simply need to pay a fee in the airport. But once in the car, Fofana assured me that "things had been taken care of." Just to make sure, I asked him about the visa. He said, "Oh, the customs official is a good friend of mine. Otherwise you have to pay too much money. Don't worry." So it is nearly a week later and I still don't have a visa, but nobody seems to care. Seems like Guinea-Bissau has bigger problems on its plate.
I had a long hot wait in a non-air conditioned, under-construction terminal for another 5 hours with no water or food until the Bissau flight was called. It was a short hour-long ride in a small prop plane. Most of the passengers were Guineans but there were a few oddballs in the mix beside myself. I decided to entertain myself by playing "find the narco" which ended up being a very short game indeed. The man in the seat in front of me was Spanish-speaking, sweaty and anxious, with black sunglasses, huge piles of luggage and a black Versace shirt unbuttoned nearly to his waist. But you never know, he could have been an SSR advisor to the Spanish Government. Anything is possible!
The airport in Bissau was completely different than Dakar. There were people lined up out on the tarmac to greet people, shaking hands and laughing and nobody haranguing you for money. Luckily, Janet (my boss) had sent a driver (Fofana) from the UNDP (PNUD in Portuguese) to help me out, I found him quickly as he was dressed in a baby-blue outfit and holding a sign with my name. He pulled me out of the "foreigner" line at customs and pulled me through the diplomatic line to get my luggage while he negotiate with customs officials. I had been told it was no problem to enter without a visa, that I would simply need to pay a fee in the airport. But once in the car, Fofana assured me that "things had been taken care of." Just to make sure, I asked him about the visa. He said, "Oh, the customs official is a good friend of mine. Otherwise you have to pay too much money. Don't worry." So it is nearly a week later and I still don't have a visa, but nobody seems to care. Seems like Guinea-Bissau has bigger problems on its plate.
Jolly Ghanaians
The Ghanaians are known for their jolly personalities and ability to get along with anyone. Since this is my first weekend with a Ghanaian family in Accra this has already proven to be true. I was welcomed immediately by my friend's family and they took me in and fed me as though I was one of their own many daughters. When we were shopping with the mother and father today, the father took all my food, dumped it in with his groceries, and asked me if I liked chocolate. When I grinned and said I loved chocolate, he grabbed about seven chocolate bars and added it to my pile 'in case I get hungry at the camp.' I reminisced about my dad and how he used to force-feed me anything of substance when I was growing up (Snickers at least has peanuts, right?), and thought how he would do exactly the same thing. I suppose having daughters does something to a man.
On the way to the mall today we saw a minor accident. A man on a motorcycle wasn't paying attention and bumped into the back of a car. He was fine and so was the car. However instead of the expected cursing and shouting, both driver and motorcyclist started giggling. I don't mean just chuckling to themselves, I mean both men were curling over in laughter. I couldn't believe it. You would never see this in New York City. You'd see the middle finger before anyone would even crack a smile in this situation. Made me love this country even more.
Had quite an adventure yesterday evening. After spending the day at the market, PK, Laura and I decided we wanted to watch a movie. We had read about this great place in the Bradt guide, where we could choose a movie and all sit and watch it in a room for about 7 gh cedi total (around $7). We got lost driving there, and after several confusing conversations with locals, PK finally spotted a faded picture of Mel Gibson and "Video Fun Plaza" with an arrow pointing us to our destination. Hallelujah!
When we finally arrived we thought we might have driven into someone's personal parking lot. It was empty and one man came towards us with a confused expression on his face. It turned out we were in the right place, though, and we got out of the car and were led to a front desk where we had our choice of imported Chinese-pirated movies (16 movies per DVD). We were shocked to hear that all ten rooms were taken, so we headed out to get some snacks while we waited. As we were leaving we noticed the place was open from 9am-6am and was only closed for 3 hours. Huh.
When we got back, we got our movie and were led down a few dark hallways to our room. It was dimly lighted and there was a long lounge-chair - more like a bed - and a TV and DVD player. Suddenly it dawned on us that this was not a regular place where teenagers went just to watch movies. I sat down, so far on the edge of the couch that I was almost falling off, and was hysterically laughing into my shoulder to muffle the sound while the man was getting the movie prepared. What could he possibly think, with three white Americans patrolling into the place - one red-headed guy with a safari hat on and two brunette girls cheerily following him into this tiny room? All we wanted to do was watch Lord of War. As soon as he left we all looked at each other. "Where's the beer?" was the first comment. We all snickered as Laura passed the black plastic bag over to PK.
On the way to the mall today we saw a minor accident. A man on a motorcycle wasn't paying attention and bumped into the back of a car. He was fine and so was the car. However instead of the expected cursing and shouting, both driver and motorcyclist started giggling. I don't mean just chuckling to themselves, I mean both men were curling over in laughter. I couldn't believe it. You would never see this in New York City. You'd see the middle finger before anyone would even crack a smile in this situation. Made me love this country even more.
Had quite an adventure yesterday evening. After spending the day at the market, PK, Laura and I decided we wanted to watch a movie. We had read about this great place in the Bradt guide, where we could choose a movie and all sit and watch it in a room for about 7 gh cedi total (around $7). We got lost driving there, and after several confusing conversations with locals, PK finally spotted a faded picture of Mel Gibson and "Video Fun Plaza" with an arrow pointing us to our destination. Hallelujah!
When we finally arrived we thought we might have driven into someone's personal parking lot. It was empty and one man came towards us with a confused expression on his face. It turned out we were in the right place, though, and we got out of the car and were led to a front desk where we had our choice of imported Chinese-pirated movies (16 movies per DVD). We were shocked to hear that all ten rooms were taken, so we headed out to get some snacks while we waited. As we were leaving we noticed the place was open from 9am-6am and was only closed for 3 hours. Huh.
When we got back, we got our movie and were led down a few dark hallways to our room. It was dimly lighted and there was a long lounge-chair - more like a bed - and a TV and DVD player. Suddenly it dawned on us that this was not a regular place where teenagers went just to watch movies. I sat down, so far on the edge of the couch that I was almost falling off, and was hysterically laughing into my shoulder to muffle the sound while the man was getting the movie prepared. What could he possibly think, with three white Americans patrolling into the place - one red-headed guy with a safari hat on and two brunette girls cheerily following him into this tiny room? All we wanted to do was watch Lord of War. As soon as he left we all looked at each other. "Where's the beer?" was the first comment. We all snickered as Laura passed the black plastic bag over to PK.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
ACCRA!
I'm lying in bed with wireless internet and air conditioning blowing in my face. Oh the joys of Accra. I'm staying with a friend who is doing research on education in the camp for her PhD, and invited me to come stay at her family's place in the city. Loving. It.
I met up with PK from Fletcher last night. So much fun to see him here. We spent $15 on dinner - a shocker after spending only $3-4 per day on food at the camp - and drank some Star (Ghanaian) beer. We ended up going to a local place and sat outside, which was really nice despite the beggers constantly at the edge of the table. He is working in the Eastern Region (near the Volta region that borders with Togo) in a village where he is doing business consulting for artisans. He's told me in great detail the three kinds of beads that they are making and how they make them. Part of his job is to ensure that the price they are selling the beads at is profitable while also the wages are fair for the workers. Interesting stuff. I'm hoping I can get up there at some point and check the place out. It is supposed to be beautiful out there.
I got a phone call from my Australian friend last night who had a 103 fever and was really ill. She somehow ran out of malaria pills so I'm pretty sure we both know what it is. Luckily she had two other people watching after her, and she went to a nearby hospital. She will be fine and I heard from her on her way home last night, but I'm just hoping she feels better today.
Before I left there was a threat that the orphanage was going to lose their home this week. Thanks to the organization I'm working with, this was avoided. Long story short - I will spare you the painful details - the chief (a Ghanaian) wanted to take over the house but we put that off for another few months while they get ready to go back to Liberia. This 'family,' since that is essentially what this orphanage is, is extremely nervous about the camp being split up into different communities. There are 25 kids to take care of and it could potentially separate them. Next week I am going to try and find out whether anyone knows more about the details and hopefully help come up with a plan if this happens. I am still hoping it is a rumor, but there have been signs that it may not be.
Ok that's it for now. I'm off to explore Accra.
I met up with PK from Fletcher last night. So much fun to see him here. We spent $15 on dinner - a shocker after spending only $3-4 per day on food at the camp - and drank some Star (Ghanaian) beer. We ended up going to a local place and sat outside, which was really nice despite the beggers constantly at the edge of the table. He is working in the Eastern Region (near the Volta region that borders with Togo) in a village where he is doing business consulting for artisans. He's told me in great detail the three kinds of beads that they are making and how they make them. Part of his job is to ensure that the price they are selling the beads at is profitable while also the wages are fair for the workers. Interesting stuff. I'm hoping I can get up there at some point and check the place out. It is supposed to be beautiful out there.
I got a phone call from my Australian friend last night who had a 103 fever and was really ill. She somehow ran out of malaria pills so I'm pretty sure we both know what it is. Luckily she had two other people watching after her, and she went to a nearby hospital. She will be fine and I heard from her on her way home last night, but I'm just hoping she feels better today.
Before I left there was a threat that the orphanage was going to lose their home this week. Thanks to the organization I'm working with, this was avoided. Long story short - I will spare you the painful details - the chief (a Ghanaian) wanted to take over the house but we put that off for another few months while they get ready to go back to Liberia. This 'family,' since that is essentially what this orphanage is, is extremely nervous about the camp being split up into different communities. There are 25 kids to take care of and it could potentially separate them. Next week I am going to try and find out whether anyone knows more about the details and hopefully help come up with a plan if this happens. I am still hoping it is a rumor, but there have been signs that it may not be.
Ok that's it for now. I'm off to explore Accra.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Leaping Tiger Ladies...
We're back in Lijang after two days of hiking Tiger Leaping Gorge, a spectacular hike with vistas of the snow-covered Jade Dragon Mountain and the rushing start of the Yangtze River (called Jinsha at the start). We hiked six hours on the first day, up the infamous 28 bends, to Tea Horse Inn, where we stayed the evening with travelers from across the globe. While we rested our feet and drank shandys (sprite + beer), we played a game of "spoons," but we had to improvise with chopsticks.
Early the next morning we hiked the remainder of the trail to Tina's Guest House, literally forging waterfalls along the way. The weather was spectacular for the hike and when we arrived at the end, we descended down into the gorge, after paying the local trail keeper 10 yuan ($1.20). The trail zigzagged down the mountain face and into the gorge. Standing at the bottom, we had a view of a 100 foot cascading waterfall and the river gushing down a narrowed passage (known as the mythical spot where the tiger lept across the gorge). The force of the water created a +5 rapid and we dipped our sore feet in the water before attempting the ascent back up the rock face.
Back in Lijang now, we discovered a fabulous youth hostel run by the craziest Chinese "mama" in town, known endearingly by every backpacker as Mama Naxi. She sets the ground rules quickly, imposing a curfew of 12:30pm, and if you're late you risk being yelled at by Mama or worse, sleeping on the streets. Her English is halted, but somehow you understand everything and if you need anything (bus tickets, taxis, food, medicine, pants mended) -- she arranges it an instant. Dinner starts at 6pm sharp, and everyone gathers family style for a delicious Chinese meal.
Today we're renting bikes to explore a few of the villages surrounding Lijang, including Baisha where Dr. Ho, a taoist physician, runs the Clinic of Chinese Herbs. We'll be back at Mama Naxi's house for dinner at 6pm sharp and then we have an overnight bus trip back to Kunming in order to catch our onward flight to Beijing on Sunday, marking the end of the "tourism" portion of our travels and back into the academic realm...
Early the next morning we hiked the remainder of the trail to Tina's Guest House, literally forging waterfalls along the way. The weather was spectacular for the hike and when we arrived at the end, we descended down into the gorge, after paying the local trail keeper 10 yuan ($1.20). The trail zigzagged down the mountain face and into the gorge. Standing at the bottom, we had a view of a 100 foot cascading waterfall and the river gushing down a narrowed passage (known as the mythical spot where the tiger lept across the gorge). The force of the water created a +5 rapid and we dipped our sore feet in the water before attempting the ascent back up the rock face.
Back in Lijang now, we discovered a fabulous youth hostel run by the craziest Chinese "mama" in town, known endearingly by every backpacker as Mama Naxi. She sets the ground rules quickly, imposing a curfew of 12:30pm, and if you're late you risk being yelled at by Mama or worse, sleeping on the streets. Her English is halted, but somehow you understand everything and if you need anything (bus tickets, taxis, food, medicine, pants mended) -- she arranges it an instant. Dinner starts at 6pm sharp, and everyone gathers family style for a delicious Chinese meal.
Today we're renting bikes to explore a few of the villages surrounding Lijang, including Baisha where Dr. Ho, a taoist physician, runs the Clinic of Chinese Herbs. We'll be back at Mama Naxi's house for dinner at 6pm sharp and then we have an overnight bus trip back to Kunming in order to catch our onward flight to Beijing on Sunday, marking the end of the "tourism" portion of our travels and back into the academic realm...
Tiger Leaping Gorge
The weather finally broke, and just in time for our epic hike along Tiger Leaping Gorge and the Yangtze river. We left the town of Lijiang (something like Disneyland for Chinese tourists, with completely rebuilt "historic" houses fronted entirely by shops selling everything from traditional Naxi jewlery to imported Thai and Indian clothing) and drove two hours north, watching the rice paddys slowly give way to fields of wheat as the elevation climbed to 3000 meters.
The two-day trek took us up into the Jade mountains, along a narrow path high above the Yangtze river. The first day was almost entirely uphill, but we spent the night in a comfy room at the Tea Horse Hostel. We hiked with a ragtag group of trekkers whom we met on the bus ride to the gorge. One of the best parts about traveling is the random people and fast friends we've met along the way. The Kunming-Dali-Lijiang-Tiger Leaping Gorge is a popular backpacker route, so we've run into many of the same people along the way, including an adorable couple from New Zealand and three fun Argentinians.
The view from the highest point of the trek was nothing short of awe-inspiring, and I have plenty of pictures to prove it. The second day took us down from an altitude of 3,600 meters closer to the river. The final hike down to the river to where the mythical tiger actually lept across the gorge was stunning, and cooling my feet in the icy cold water as the rapids crashed around us was amazing.
When we returned to Lijiang, we moved into the famous Mama Naxi hostel. Mama Naxi runs the place with an iron fist, treats the backpackers as her children, and is generally beloved by all the travellers we've met. When she saw me sneeze today she gave me a special tea for my cold, and last night I saw her helping a clueless Brit mend a whole in his pants. We've got one more day in Lijiang before heading to Beijing to start the Asia Foundation's program. The sun is out, so hopefully we can find a place to rent bikes and explore the surrounding villages.
The two-day trek took us up into the Jade mountains, along a narrow path high above the Yangtze river. The first day was almost entirely uphill, but we spent the night in a comfy room at the Tea Horse Hostel. We hiked with a ragtag group of trekkers whom we met on the bus ride to the gorge. One of the best parts about traveling is the random people and fast friends we've met along the way. The Kunming-Dali-Lijiang-Tiger Leaping Gorge is a popular backpacker route, so we've run into many of the same people along the way, including an adorable couple from New Zealand and three fun Argentinians.
The view from the highest point of the trek was nothing short of awe-inspiring, and I have plenty of pictures to prove it. The second day took us down from an altitude of 3,600 meters closer to the river. The final hike down to the river to where the mythical tiger actually lept across the gorge was stunning, and cooling my feet in the icy cold water as the rapids crashed around us was amazing.
When we returned to Lijiang, we moved into the famous Mama Naxi hostel. Mama Naxi runs the place with an iron fist, treats the backpackers as her children, and is generally beloved by all the travellers we've met. When she saw me sneeze today she gave me a special tea for my cold, and last night I saw her helping a clueless Brit mend a whole in his pants. We've got one more day in Lijiang before heading to Beijing to start the Asia Foundation's program. The sun is out, so hopefully we can find a place to rent bikes and explore the surrounding villages.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Karibu in Nairobi
I arrived in Nairobi about a week ago and I am slowly settling in. I already moved once (from one house to an apartment that's closer to the office) and have already had dinner with a fellow Fletcherite in East Africa.
I'm interning with an American NGO called PACT, which mainly does capacity-building of civil society organizations, facilitating funding and coordination between them. I work on PACT's peacebuilding project PEACE II, which works together with a regional intergovernmental conflict early warning and response mechanism to prevent and mitigate disputes and violence across borders in East and the Horn of Africa. We are currently organizing a consultation meeting in the northeastern corner of Kenya, right on the border with Ethiopia and Somalia, with a bunch of government, civil society and business leaders from all three parties (Kenya, Ethiopia, Somalia). I'll get to travel up there for a week at the end of the month and I'm really excited.
My colleagues, mostly Kenyans, are all very friendly and helpful. I've already had extensive conversations about Kenyan opinion on the US elections and about the "disturbances" (i.e. riots) in Kenya of early this year.
Nairobi has the characteristics of many other big African cities: it's dusty and noisy. Nairobi is huge but relatively modern. I'm on the outskirts of town and haven't seen much of the city center yet. Because of the high crime rate, I am somewhat confined in my mobility, which is pretty frustrating. I basically depend on taxis (which are expensive), and starting at dusk I shouldn't really be walking on the streets by myself. But there are supermarkets, internet and regular cafes and movie theaters all over the place. And there are paved roads! (Huge improvement from Kampala last summer.)
Other impressions: Neighborhood dogs decide to bark in concert every few hours in the middle of the night. The houses are gated and have security guards. And the mzungus (white people) basically live in their own little world behind their gates, the shopping malls and in their SUVs. TV features random (and old) American shows (and American Idol) as well as the expected Nigerian movies and gospel channels. People are very religious (mostly Christian and Muslim). And dress at work is very proper. Though I was assured that there are not many mosquitoes in the city, one lone mosquito found my bedroom and ate me alive two nights ago. I am now suffering the consequences. The fruit is fresh; and cell phone SIM cards are cheap (75 cents). Nairobi is expensive though. I pay basically the same amount for food that I would have in Boston.
I'm practicing the bits and pieces of Swahili I have learned so far, and my colleagues' faces light up when I manage to burst out an "Asante sana" (Thank you) or "Habari?" (How are you?).
Hopefully I'll soon have more exciting tales to tell, but for now I thought I'd share the beginnings... I hope everyone is well and that you're settling in for the summer.
Zim update and continued life in Buduburam
I just got news that an activist we worked with in Zimbabwe has been killed. I never met him personally but one of my friends worked with him on a regular basis and with all the news coming out of the country it only increases my anxiety about the people I do know personally. This particular person was 33 and had several kids - and apparently was a really honest and sincere person, fighting the dictatorship for the right reasons. I hate hearing news like this, especially with all the xenophobic attacks that are happening in South Africa. It seems like Zimbabweans lives are at risk no matter where they are. If they stay home, they will either die of starvation or get attacked by the government if they criticize their rule (activists are disappearing at a record rate -- nauseating). If they flee to South Africa where many of them have gone, then they will be attacked by angry South Africans. Not that Mbeki has ever been willing to criticize Mugabe which is the cause of the massive number of Zimbabweans in the country in the first place.
It's frustrating that you never know whether you are being safe or paranoid in Africa. I left early from South Africa for a number of reasons that I don't need to get into here, but I was always told that as a citizen of the United States we would be protected while we were in Zim and would not be arrested for more than a couple of hours, even if that. Well a friend of mine was held by Zimbabwean police for 5 days a few months ago before he was actually allowed to leave the country, and he is a citizen of the United States. Do they follow the rules? Nope.
I am having some similar problems here. There are so many rumors that they will be splitting the camp up into different communities and that refugees will be separated. This has been in the papers for several months but I got notice yesterday that this could actually be a real threat. I'm nervous that this could mean some serious problems for our partners - especially the orphanage where I work. Some brush this idea aside, but I am pushing for them to come up with a "Plan B" so that they can at least be prepared in the case of an emergency. You never know what could happen in a place like this.
But, just to give everyone reading this a piece of mind - this does not put me at risk. I have moved off-camp (and I have.... wait for it.... wait for it.... RUNNING WATER), so if this ends up happening I will not be affected personally since everything will happen on camp. I am living with two other volunteers in the house and there are four to six other volunteers who live right across from me (some are moving in in a couple of days). So I am not alone in this. I hope to God it doesn't actually happen for the sake of the Liberian people I have met here. But there is fear among some of them, and I don't blame them.
Anyway, the new house is luxurious compared to the shackI am currently living in that is falling apart. It has a big bed for me and an even bigger common area where the lights actually are more than a dim, buzzing shadow of a light (if you can picture that). I'm looking forward to actually being able to see what I'm eating for dinner and perhaps not drawing or writing by flashlight at night. I'm also looking forward to more quiet nights, without babies crying and the pots and pans banging at 5am - despite the comforting smell of food cooking in the morning.
But, I will miss my Australian friend and our nightly chatting over the sound of the fan whirring in our faces - which hardly stops the sweating even at night here. I actually also find the cold bucket showers refreshing in the morning, and may keep it up even though we are supposed to get running water in the next few days.
I am also heading to Accra this weekend and am starting to formulate some solid ideas for my thesis research after talking to a number of people. I'm getting excited about the ideas, so more on this later.
Alright, must get back to work - but wanted to write out some of the thoughts I've been having while I have an extra half an hour. Please keep writing everyone - (and Amy I expect some craaazy stories, neighbor).
It's frustrating that you never know whether you are being safe or paranoid in Africa. I left early from South Africa for a number of reasons that I don't need to get into here, but I was always told that as a citizen of the United States we would be protected while we were in Zim and would not be arrested for more than a couple of hours, even if that. Well a friend of mine was held by Zimbabwean police for 5 days a few months ago before he was actually allowed to leave the country, and he is a citizen of the United States. Do they follow the rules? Nope.
I am having some similar problems here. There are so many rumors that they will be splitting the camp up into different communities and that refugees will be separated. This has been in the papers for several months but I got notice yesterday that this could actually be a real threat. I'm nervous that this could mean some serious problems for our partners - especially the orphanage where I work. Some brush this idea aside, but I am pushing for them to come up with a "Plan B" so that they can at least be prepared in the case of an emergency. You never know what could happen in a place like this.
But, just to give everyone reading this a piece of mind - this does not put me at risk. I have moved off-camp (and I have.... wait for it.... wait for it.... RUNNING WATER), so if this ends up happening I will not be affected personally since everything will happen on camp. I am living with two other volunteers in the house and there are four to six other volunteers who live right across from me (some are moving in in a couple of days). So I am not alone in this. I hope to God it doesn't actually happen for the sake of the Liberian people I have met here. But there is fear among some of them, and I don't blame them.
Anyway, the new house is luxurious compared to the shackI am currently living in that is falling apart. It has a big bed for me and an even bigger common area where the lights actually are more than a dim, buzzing shadow of a light (if you can picture that). I'm looking forward to actually being able to see what I'm eating for dinner and perhaps not drawing or writing by flashlight at night. I'm also looking forward to more quiet nights, without babies crying and the pots and pans banging at 5am - despite the comforting smell of food cooking in the morning.
But, I will miss my Australian friend and our nightly chatting over the sound of the fan whirring in our faces - which hardly stops the sweating even at night here. I actually also find the cold bucket showers refreshing in the morning, and may keep it up even though we are supposed to get running water in the next few days.
I am also heading to Accra this weekend and am starting to formulate some solid ideas for my thesis research after talking to a number of people. I'm getting excited about the ideas, so more on this later.
Alright, must get back to work - but wanted to write out some of the thoughts I've been having while I have an extra half an hour. Please keep writing everyone - (and Amy I expect some craaazy stories, neighbor).
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
This one will be quick because I'm running out of time at the internet.
Sometimes I feel like a celebrity here. In fact, any white person walking around will be flagged down by numerous children shouting 'white womaaaan'. Some are shy and will just wave and smile at a distance, while others will have enough guts to come up and touch your hand. The real bold ones will hug you and try to climb up your legs. When I met my "African momma's" family the other day, her granddaughter didn't speak to me for the first half an hour, and just stared at me in wonder. Her family giggled and explained she had never been this close to a white person before. She is almost three years old.
I'm soon moving houses again. This will be my third house in one and a half weeks. I am a bit like a refugee in a refugee camp. My Australian friend is heading to Europe soon (she has been here since December) so I am moving to a new guest house where there will be several other volunteers coming in at the end of the month. Unfortunately this place is actually just off-camp - which has its pluses and minuses. I like being near everything and having children visiting in the evenings while on-camp; and it is kind of nice to wake up to the smell of burning wood and the sounds of pots and pans every morning - there is something strangely comforting about it. But, while off-camp, I will pr0bably be spared the loud crying of babies every other night and apparently this place is a little nicer than the house I'm living in now. Keeps life interesting, anyway.
I went to a birthday part at the orphanage on Saturday with all the children, and went to the beach with some of the kids on Sunday. Just getting there was an adventure in and of itself, but it was a really nice beach with an Italian restaurant where I could sit once I felt my skin getting burned. I'm already turning a deep brown - I can't imagine what I will look like at the end of the two months.
Ok, just three minutes left, so I'm off....
Sometimes I feel like a celebrity here. In fact, any white person walking around will be flagged down by numerous children shouting 'white womaaaan'. Some are shy and will just wave and smile at a distance, while others will have enough guts to come up and touch your hand. The real bold ones will hug you and try to climb up your legs. When I met my "African momma's" family the other day, her granddaughter didn't speak to me for the first half an hour, and just stared at me in wonder. Her family giggled and explained she had never been this close to a white person before. She is almost three years old.
I'm soon moving houses again. This will be my third house in one and a half weeks. I am a bit like a refugee in a refugee camp. My Australian friend is heading to Europe soon (she has been here since December) so I am moving to a new guest house where there will be several other volunteers coming in at the end of the month. Unfortunately this place is actually just off-camp - which has its pluses and minuses. I like being near everything and having children visiting in the evenings while on-camp; and it is kind of nice to wake up to the smell of burning wood and the sounds of pots and pans every morning - there is something strangely comforting about it. But, while off-camp, I will pr0bably be spared the loud crying of babies every other night and apparently this place is a little nicer than the house I'm living in now. Keeps life interesting, anyway.
I went to a birthday part at the orphanage on Saturday with all the children, and went to the beach with some of the kids on Sunday. Just getting there was an adventure in and of itself, but it was a really nice beach with an Italian restaurant where I could sit once I felt my skin getting burned. I'm already turning a deep brown - I can't imagine what I will look like at the end of the two months.
Ok, just three minutes left, so I'm off....
Kenya is Obama Nation
I am by no means a die-hard proponent of either Democratic candidate running in this year's US primaries, though I do realize that an Obama-McCain race is becoming more and more certain. During my ride home after work yesterday, however, I learned that there are many Kenyans, who feel much stronger about the primaries than I do. Each primary race is followed intently by the Kenyan public. In fact, Kenya is Obama Nation.
Two of my Kenyan colleagues enlightened me about the strong interest here in the US election this year, and if it were up to the Kenyans, Obama would win hands-down. There is an inextricable hope linked to the Obama candidacy to the extent that some Kenyans believe that once elected, Obama will personally ensure that those very-badly roads will finally be built. Unfortunately, this guarantees that Obama will definitely never be able to meet all the immense expectations that come with his presidency domestically - in the US or in Kenya.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Drowned Rats
The rain in Dali continues. Undeterred, Sandy, Jo and I decided to rent bikes yesterday and ride around the fishing villages on the opposite side of Er Hai Lake. Our first stop was a demonstration of the traditional cormorant fishing. In this old practice, cormorants are semi-domesticated, with a string tied around their neck to prevent them from eating the bigger fish. When the fisherman take them out to the lake to hunt, the larger fish are caught in their necks, forcing them to return to the boat where the fisherman helps the bird regurgitate the whole fish. Cormorants are rewarded with smaller fish, which can slide through their artificially small necks. Because of overfishing, cormorant fishing is now banned on Er Hai lake. Thus, we watched all this take place in a tiny bay, with the fisherman throwing out pre-caught fish to the birds so we could see how the whole process used to work.
After the fishing, we boarded a ferry to take us to the other side of the lake. Although the morning rain looked to be clearing, we did not take into account the prevalence of micro-climates in the region, and the possibility that the other side of the lake would not be nearly as dry. Still, at this point it was more of a drizzle than actual rain, so we set out down the road, with mountains to our left and the lake to our right. Our first stop was a Bai temple on the side of the road. After paying our respects (and a few yuan coerced out of us by the woman in charge) we continued to a small village right on the lake. Ditching the bikes, we started exploring the town, and were soon followed by a small group of children who delighted in flashing us the peace sign, having us take their picture, then checking out how they looked on the camera's preview mode.
By now, the drizzle had become a downpour. The kids disappeared into their homes, and we sought shelter under and overhang in the Municipal Building. We were sharing a granola bar and trying to decide what we should do when a woman appeared and beckoned us to follow her upstairs. She took us into a large conference room and made us some hot green tea. Three other men were also in the room, drinking tea and watching news about the earthquake. Looking around the room, we noticed the prominently displayed Communist Party organizational chart on the wall, and realized we were in the local Party headquarters, soaking wet, drinking tea with the communists.
We hoped to wait out the rain, but also did not want to miss the last ferry back to Dali. So, just as the storm seemed to be picking up again, we were forced to say goodbye to our new found friends and head back. The ride back to the ferry was surreal. The lake was an angry black and churning and the clouds still menacing.I was entirely soaked in minutes, what the rain didn't hit, the puddles more than made up for splashing water all the way up my legs. The road was a river of red mud, and my hands were white from cold and from gripping the breaks to avoid careening out of control down the long and winding hills.
We finally made it back to the ferry landing, looking like drowned rats. The ferry appeared within a few minutes, but its sea-worthiness was questionable. As the lake churned, a visible crack appeared in the middle of the boat, widening every time we hit an exceptionally large wave. When we finally reached the opposite shore, I was more than ready to be on (semi) dry land again.
After the fishing, we boarded a ferry to take us to the other side of the lake. Although the morning rain looked to be clearing, we did not take into account the prevalence of micro-climates in the region, and the possibility that the other side of the lake would not be nearly as dry. Still, at this point it was more of a drizzle than actual rain, so we set out down the road, with mountains to our left and the lake to our right. Our first stop was a Bai temple on the side of the road. After paying our respects (and a few yuan coerced out of us by the woman in charge) we continued to a small village right on the lake. Ditching the bikes, we started exploring the town, and were soon followed by a small group of children who delighted in flashing us the peace sign, having us take their picture, then checking out how they looked on the camera's preview mode.
By now, the drizzle had become a downpour. The kids disappeared into their homes, and we sought shelter under and overhang in the Municipal Building. We were sharing a granola bar and trying to decide what we should do when a woman appeared and beckoned us to follow her upstairs. She took us into a large conference room and made us some hot green tea. Three other men were also in the room, drinking tea and watching news about the earthquake. Looking around the room, we noticed the prominently displayed Communist Party organizational chart on the wall, and realized we were in the local Party headquarters, soaking wet, drinking tea with the communists.
We hoped to wait out the rain, but also did not want to miss the last ferry back to Dali. So, just as the storm seemed to be picking up again, we were forced to say goodbye to our new found friends and head back. The ride back to the ferry was surreal. The lake was an angry black and churning and the clouds still menacing.I was entirely soaked in minutes, what the rain didn't hit, the puddles more than made up for splashing water all the way up my legs. The road was a river of red mud, and my hands were white from cold and from gripping the breaks to avoid careening out of control down the long and winding hills.
We finally made it back to the ferry landing, looking like drowned rats. The ferry appeared within a few minutes, but its sea-worthiness was questionable. As the lake churned, a visible crack appeared in the middle of the boat, widening every time we hit an exceptionally large wave. When we finally reached the opposite shore, I was more than ready to be on (semi) dry land again.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
From Buduburam, Ghana
Very excited to read all the adventures in China - I can't wait to hear more from the rest of you.
Well i'm writing this from a (very slow) internet connection in Buduburam, a settlement camp for Liberian refugees in Ghana. It's just about an hour drive west of Accra. And oh, the culture shock going from the cozy bubble of Fletcher to a mouse/spider/cockroach infested household with no running water. It makes the mice at Blakeley seem, well, a tiny obstacle.
Let me paint a quick picture for you. Dirt roads, tiny UNHCR-built huts, no running water, flies everywhere and severe humidity and heat. I can hear everything that my neighbor is doing, and for the first couple of days it sounded as though there were people in my room all night. It was creepy at first but you get used to it. On the other hand, everyone here is very clean and well-dressed, and there are little businesses that have sprouted up all over the place. Children come up and hug you everywhere you go (white woman!), and for the most part everyone is friendly. There are a lot of requests for money, which is hard to turn down since it is clear everyone is struggling, but there is only so much you can do so I tend not to give money away unless it is someone I already trust.
The beginning was a bit rough as I sorted out my living situation. The organization I'm working for put me in a house alone which I was not comfortable with. So, luckily with the contacts Sondra gave me, I found a new place to live with an Australian and Dutch girl. Although this new place is not any nicer, and I have to pay a little extra, at least I have some people to come home to at night. I'm told not to walk alone in the dark, so I need some social activities at night to keep me going. I have plans to go into Accra next weekend so I'm looking forward to the break.
So - about the work I'm doing. I've already filled some of you in; but I am working closely with the elementary school here. I have three basic projects; first, I am working with an orphanage. The lady who runs the place is amazing. She had a dream to help children whose parents were lost in the war - or whose parents could not take care of them - and with a lot of hard work has built an orphanage that currently holds 25 children. The kids are adorable and I go there every day (I will show everyone pictures and videos when I get back). Second, I am working with another organization for disabled children. The person who created the org is a woman who has a disabled son and wanted to connect all the families with disabled children to give them an education and some support for each other. The third project is to work with a school feeing program, where the staff gets money from my organization to serve breakfast for the elementary kids every morning. I wake up at 7am every morning to help them cook and serve the kids - not part of the job description but it's been fun so far, so may go twice a week to help out.
Anyway, the basic job for me is to get all of these different NGOs ready to move to Liberia. So I am teaching them basic organizational methods, as well as showing them how to write out short-term and long-term plans for the future. I'm also giving lessons on how to use the internet and use google docs so it is easier to communicate with the partners back home. They are all fabulous people who have done unbelievable things given the circumstances, but now that they are moving back to Liberia we are hoping to help them learn some of the basic necessary tasks to keep an organization going.
For those of you who don't know - the Ghanaians are telling the Liberians they can no longer stay here in the Buduburam camp. It was opened in 1990, and there are 42,000 Liberians who are still here even since the war ended in 2003. Tensions are very high right now because of a recent protest in March, where 600 men and women were protesting to either get $1,000 from UNHCR to be sent back or to be resettled to America. This, of course, is an unrealistic request and led to mass arrests and unfortunately a few deaths. The majority of Liberians are very upset that this happened, because now the Ghanaians are angry and demanding that everyone go back immediately with little to no help. Luckily, most Liberians do want to return home, since life here is not easy with no jobs - but many are afraid of what they face when they arrive since not all of them have finished school, and many have families to raise.
On the whole, it is a very fulfilling job and I admire the people I work with. It is terrible what these people have been through; but this place is a powerful example of how resilient people can be. The fact that everyone here has lost family members and friends, have no money, and are not wanted by the country they stay in has not stopped many of them from making lives for themselves. This place has a lot going for it and has become a small African city.
I still dream about home. It is surprising wake up to a mosquito net surrounding me and to the smell of smoke and dirt - which is essentially the smell all over the place here. It is not an unpleasant smell - actually quite the contrary. There is something peaceful about the smell of food being cooked everywhere.
There is also music constantly playing. There are two songs in particular that the Liberians play over and over. One is a Nigerian song, and I swear, I know all the words by now even though it's not in English (I have heard it that many times). The other is an American song that reminds me of Fletcher, which is a bit disorienting. There are also a variety of other old 80s songs that they play - including the electric slide - which everyone was dancing around to last night.
This morning I had breakfast with my "African mother" as she likes to call herself, and her family . She fed me donuts (I guess us Americans have a reputation here), and 'coffee' (boiled water mixed with milk and sugar, actually pretty good the way she makes it). Tomorrow night I will go around for dinner, and have the traditional spicy rice and fish that is all over camp.
I hope all of this makes sense, since internet is slow and scarce and I haven't been to read over what I've written. Much love to my fellow Fletcherites around the world, and anyone else who is reading this. More later.
Well i'm writing this from a (very slow) internet connection in Buduburam, a settlement camp for Liberian refugees in Ghana. It's just about an hour drive west of Accra. And oh, the culture shock going from the cozy bubble of Fletcher to a mouse/spider/cockroach infested household with no running water. It makes the mice at Blakeley seem, well, a tiny obstacle.
Let me paint a quick picture for you. Dirt roads, tiny UNHCR-built huts, no running water, flies everywhere and severe humidity and heat. I can hear everything that my neighbor is doing, and for the first couple of days it sounded as though there were people in my room all night. It was creepy at first but you get used to it. On the other hand, everyone here is very clean and well-dressed, and there are little businesses that have sprouted up all over the place. Children come up and hug you everywhere you go (white woman!), and for the most part everyone is friendly. There are a lot of requests for money, which is hard to turn down since it is clear everyone is struggling, but there is only so much you can do so I tend not to give money away unless it is someone I already trust.
The beginning was a bit rough as I sorted out my living situation. The organization I'm working for put me in a house alone which I was not comfortable with. So, luckily with the contacts Sondra gave me, I found a new place to live with an Australian and Dutch girl. Although this new place is not any nicer, and I have to pay a little extra, at least I have some people to come home to at night. I'm told not to walk alone in the dark, so I need some social activities at night to keep me going. I have plans to go into Accra next weekend so I'm looking forward to the break.
So - about the work I'm doing. I've already filled some of you in; but I am working closely with the elementary school here. I have three basic projects; first, I am working with an orphanage. The lady who runs the place is amazing. She had a dream to help children whose parents were lost in the war - or whose parents could not take care of them - and with a lot of hard work has built an orphanage that currently holds 25 children. The kids are adorable and I go there every day (I will show everyone pictures and videos when I get back). Second, I am working with another organization for disabled children. The person who created the org is a woman who has a disabled son and wanted to connect all the families with disabled children to give them an education and some support for each other. The third project is to work with a school feeing program, where the staff gets money from my organization to serve breakfast for the elementary kids every morning. I wake up at 7am every morning to help them cook and serve the kids - not part of the job description but it's been fun so far, so may go twice a week to help out.
Anyway, the basic job for me is to get all of these different NGOs ready to move to Liberia. So I am teaching them basic organizational methods, as well as showing them how to write out short-term and long-term plans for the future. I'm also giving lessons on how to use the internet and use google docs so it is easier to communicate with the partners back home. They are all fabulous people who have done unbelievable things given the circumstances, but now that they are moving back to Liberia we are hoping to help them learn some of the basic necessary tasks to keep an organization going.
For those of you who don't know - the Ghanaians are telling the Liberians they can no longer stay here in the Buduburam camp. It was opened in 1990, and there are 42,000 Liberians who are still here even since the war ended in 2003. Tensions are very high right now because of a recent protest in March, where 600 men and women were protesting to either get $1,000 from UNHCR to be sent back or to be resettled to America. This, of course, is an unrealistic request and led to mass arrests and unfortunately a few deaths. The majority of Liberians are very upset that this happened, because now the Ghanaians are angry and demanding that everyone go back immediately with little to no help. Luckily, most Liberians do want to return home, since life here is not easy with no jobs - but many are afraid of what they face when they arrive since not all of them have finished school, and many have families to raise.
On the whole, it is a very fulfilling job and I admire the people I work with. It is terrible what these people have been through; but this place is a powerful example of how resilient people can be. The fact that everyone here has lost family members and friends, have no money, and are not wanted by the country they stay in has not stopped many of them from making lives for themselves. This place has a lot going for it and has become a small African city.
I still dream about home. It is surprising wake up to a mosquito net surrounding me and to the smell of smoke and dirt - which is essentially the smell all over the place here. It is not an unpleasant smell - actually quite the contrary. There is something peaceful about the smell of food being cooked everywhere.
There is also music constantly playing. There are two songs in particular that the Liberians play over and over. One is a Nigerian song, and I swear, I know all the words by now even though it's not in English (I have heard it that many times). The other is an American song that reminds me of Fletcher, which is a bit disorienting. There are also a variety of other old 80s songs that they play - including the electric slide - which everyone was dancing around to last night.
This morning I had breakfast with my "African mother" as she likes to call herself, and her family . She fed me donuts (I guess us Americans have a reputation here), and 'coffee' (boiled water mixed with milk and sugar, actually pretty good the way she makes it). Tomorrow night I will go around for dinner, and have the traditional spicy rice and fish that is all over camp.
I hope all of this makes sense, since internet is slow and scarce and I haven't been to read over what I've written. Much love to my fellow Fletcherites around the world, and anyone else who is reading this. More later.
Friday, May 16, 2008
And it gets a little harder...
the rain lightened up. but i've lost my iPod for good and now my ATM card isn't working. It is 1PM here on May 17th. Let's see how fast the Kreistermann crew mobilizes to bring the much needed cash flow back to Ms. Dita.
Adventures in Yunnan... Blog 1
We finally made it to Yunnan Provine in Southern China bordered by two recent major disasters: the earthquake in Chengdu and a monsoon to the south in Myanmar (Burma), yet the region is seemingly rather unaffected by either. Rather, rainy season has engulfed the region and we've been attempting to sight see amidst major downpours. Alas, the joys of global warming!
After two days of jet lag recuperation in Kunming, a rather bleak communist style city with blinking neon lights everywhere, I was more than ready to immerse myself in rural(ish) China. We took a five hour bus ride to Dali through rolling hills, rice paddies plowed by oxen knee deep in mud, and the acclaimed Dinosaur valley, which is rapidly transforming itself into a new theme park as I write this email. Change is visible everywhere in China, even in the most remote areas. New roads have been built overnight throughout the region and signs of commercialization are difficult to escape.
We arrived in Dali last night to the pleasant surprise of an old town well preserved with large Ming style entrance gates, Venice like water flowing beneath the cobblestone streets, and tons of shops and restaurants indicative of the cultural diversity of the region. It is well equipped to handle the backpacker adventurer type (totally my style) with bikes, horses, tai chi, and yoga on offer at every corner. How "authentic" this town really is remains to be determined and the throngs of domestic and international tourists has visibly changed this town into a tourist-pleasure seeking city.
Communication remains (and will continue to remain) extremely difficult, but I remain confident in the language beyond words of smiles, hand signals, and pointing at a pictures and drawings. The pocket phrase book quickly became my most important asset. :)
I hope this finds everyone well! More reports to come as we make our way to Er Hai lake and eventually the infamous Tiger Leaping Gorge.
After two days of jet lag recuperation in Kunming, a rather bleak communist style city with blinking neon lights everywhere, I was more than ready to immerse myself in rural(ish) China. We took a five hour bus ride to Dali through rolling hills, rice paddies plowed by oxen knee deep in mud, and the acclaimed Dinosaur valley, which is rapidly transforming itself into a new theme park as I write this email. Change is visible everywhere in China, even in the most remote areas. New roads have been built overnight throughout the region and signs of commercialization are difficult to escape.
We arrived in Dali last night to the pleasant surprise of an old town well preserved with large Ming style entrance gates, Venice like water flowing beneath the cobblestone streets, and tons of shops and restaurants indicative of the cultural diversity of the region. It is well equipped to handle the backpacker adventurer type (totally my style) with bikes, horses, tai chi, and yoga on offer at every corner. How "authentic" this town really is remains to be determined and the throngs of domestic and international tourists has visibly changed this town into a tourist-pleasure seeking city.
Communication remains (and will continue to remain) extremely difficult, but I remain confident in the language beyond words of smiles, hand signals, and pointing at a pictures and drawings. The pocket phrase book quickly became my most important asset. :)
I hope this finds everyone well! More reports to come as we make our way to Er Hai lake and eventually the infamous Tiger Leaping Gorge.
China: Day 3
China is the first time I've been to a place where neither I nor my travel companions speak the language. However, thanks to a couple of phrase books, some wild gesticulation, and a few creative drawings, we've managed to direct taxis, purchase bus tickets, and even buy a cell phone. I still wish I had done some language prep before coming, but at least I'm starting to master the pleasantries.
We've left Yunnan Province's urban center of Kunming and travelled about 250 miles north to Dali. After not sleeping very well the first two nights (the room over the club certainly made things interesting, though) I was ready to escape to a more rural setting. Kunming was a good place to spend a day recovering from the 24-hour trip, but didn't have a lot to do. However, we did manage to find the requisite expat-run coffee shop that supports organic agriculture and sustainable development. In addition to sampling the famous Pu er Tea of Yunnan, I also had the best bowl of pumpkin soup I've ever had. Also, as Sandy's post already mentioned, we also experienced the best of the local cuisine when we stumbled into a restaurant just below our hostel for dinner our second night in Kunming. We had just woken up from a jet-lag induced coma, were starving, and didn't want to venture too far away since it had just begun to rain. The restaurant had one English menu, but seemed pretty easy to decipher. We decided to share a pot of soup, and chose standard ingredients like dumplings, tofu, and chicken to throw into a steaming pot of broth. The dumplings and tofu were just as we expected, but it was a bit of a shock when a whole (complete with the head, beak, eyes and feet) chicken was ceremoniously set down at our table. After repeated attempts by the wait staff to help us put the chicken into our pot, we finally decided it would be rude not to at least attempt to eat the bird. In truth, the chicken tasted pretty good once we thoroughly boiled it in our pot, and made the broth taste much better. However, I never fully got over the beady chicken eye staring at me throughout the entire meal.
We're now in Dali, an ancient walled city built during the Ming Dynasty. A moat flows along the main city streets, and its situated right next to one of the largest lakes in China. It's also definitely a town that knows how to cater to the growing backpacker population. Coffee shops and hostels, each with their own funky decor, line the "Foreigner Street", where we're also staying. From here, we can bike to the lake, hike around neighboring villages, and see the famous "3 Pagodas". Unfortunately, the rain is getting in the way of our efforts to explore the area, but it's supposed to clear up tomorrow. In the meantime, we're content taking tai chi lessons and drinking tea.
We've left Yunnan Province's urban center of Kunming and travelled about 250 miles north to Dali. After not sleeping very well the first two nights (the room over the club certainly made things interesting, though) I was ready to escape to a more rural setting. Kunming was a good place to spend a day recovering from the 24-hour trip, but didn't have a lot to do. However, we did manage to find the requisite expat-run coffee shop that supports organic agriculture and sustainable development. In addition to sampling the famous Pu er Tea of Yunnan, I also had the best bowl of pumpkin soup I've ever had. Also, as Sandy's post already mentioned, we also experienced the best of the local cuisine when we stumbled into a restaurant just below our hostel for dinner our second night in Kunming. We had just woken up from a jet-lag induced coma, were starving, and didn't want to venture too far away since it had just begun to rain. The restaurant had one English menu, but seemed pretty easy to decipher. We decided to share a pot of soup, and chose standard ingredients like dumplings, tofu, and chicken to throw into a steaming pot of broth. The dumplings and tofu were just as we expected, but it was a bit of a shock when a whole (complete with the head, beak, eyes and feet) chicken was ceremoniously set down at our table. After repeated attempts by the wait staff to help us put the chicken into our pot, we finally decided it would be rude not to at least attempt to eat the bird. In truth, the chicken tasted pretty good once we thoroughly boiled it in our pot, and made the broth taste much better. However, I never fully got over the beady chicken eye staring at me throughout the entire meal.
We're now in Dali, an ancient walled city built during the Ming Dynasty. A moat flows along the main city streets, and its situated right next to one of the largest lakes in China. It's also definitely a town that knows how to cater to the growing backpacker population. Coffee shops and hostels, each with their own funky decor, line the "Foreigner Street", where we're also staying. From here, we can bike to the lake, hike around neighboring villages, and see the famous "3 Pagodas". Unfortunately, the rain is getting in the way of our efforts to explore the area, but it's supposed to clear up tomorrow. In the meantime, we're content taking tai chi lessons and drinking tea.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Like Vegas - Without the Casinos, and No English
Greetings friends from Kunming, China! After 24 hours, we safely arrived. Surprisingly, we still have all of our luggage, were not ripped off by the taxi driver, the hostel had our reservation, and I was able to watch Sex and the City and tons of movies on the way to Beijing. The new terminal at the airport is so sweet - it has twinkly stars all over the ceiling and lots of Asian women wearing interesting outfits to indicate that they speak English. The BEST encounter was with an airport employee, of Chinese descent, named PETER. I was like "PETER HELP! I can't get money out of the ATM." Because my pin was too long and it was all in Chinese. And he helped - told me that Yunnan was safe - and that I would LOVE it and have a great time. Such a friendly Chinese man.
So we arrive in Kunming after a terribly turbulent flight and - of course - we can't communicate with anyone. People are staring. Three white chicks. In a sea of Asians. It is kind of awesome actually. We made a spectacle trying to get a taxi, finally landed one with a nice man who did not rip us off, and carried us right up to our hostel. While driving down the boulevard, it was so obvious that this place is like Vegas - the obsession with Neon Lighting is beyond insane. But alas there are no casinos. And Alas, there is virtually no English. I've learned so far, however, that smiles go a long way.
Tomorrow - we begin to explore Kunming.
Till then - much peace and love,
Ms. Dita
So we arrive in Kunming after a terribly turbulent flight and - of course - we can't communicate with anyone. People are staring. Three white chicks. In a sea of Asians. It is kind of awesome actually. We made a spectacle trying to get a taxi, finally landed one with a nice man who did not rip us off, and carried us right up to our hostel. While driving down the boulevard, it was so obvious that this place is like Vegas - the obsession with Neon Lighting is beyond insane. But alas there are no casinos. And Alas, there is virtually no English. I've learned so far, however, that smiles go a long way.
Tomorrow - we begin to explore Kunming.
Till then - much peace and love,
Ms. Dita
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
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