Better Late Than Never, I Guess

You'd think that with constant internet access I would be better about updating this journal. Sorry. I am back to having a real schedule for the first time in over 2 years. So I've been in Nablus for little over a week now and I'm sure most of you are wondering what the heck am I up to. As I wrote in my previous blog I arrived in the pouring rain and was swept up in paper work and a city tour. Since then things have begun to settle down a bit and I guess I'm beginning to find my feet.

Palestine, being a Muslim country is different than the United States in that their weekend tends to be either Thursday/Friday or Friday/Saturday because their holy day is Friday instead of Sunday like us. So when I arrived on a Thursday afternoon I bought myself some time to get adjusted since the office was closed. Friday, the weather was still horrible and because of that and the weekend many shops were not open. However, I had no food to eat in the house and though my roommates said I could eat some of theirs I thought it best to take advantage of two of my flatmates going to one of the shops to buy toilet paper.

Nablus is situated between two Mountains, well I'd call them giant hills but anyway, Nablus lies between Mount Ebal and Mount Gerizim and the town itself is rather hilly so you can only imagine what it would be like to venture out in the pouring rain. Crossing the street was like trying to cross the Nile it seemed. At one point I was standing on the side walk and right in front of the curb was a fairly fast current of rain water going down the hill so I was looking around trying to find the shallow area for me to step down into. But looking across the road it soon became apparent that no such area existed. Rain was streaming across the entire road so I had better just jump in if I wanted to cross. I bounded across the street the best I could arrived on the other side with wet shoes, wet socks and making a squishy noise as I left a trail of wet foot prints behind me in the grocery store.

The store is nothing remarkable. It's a fair size with an interesting mix of Palestinian, Israeli, US and who knows where else products. It is kinda expensive, but it is nice to be able to find things all in one place and not have to make multiple stops. I bought stuff with the idea of trying to get enough of the basics that I wouldn't have to shop for them for awhile, like a bag of rice, bag of popcorn, several bags of pasta and some other odds and ends. The excursion wasn't very eventful but necessary and it made me feel like I had done something.

The following day was a Saturday. The weather was still crummy but some of the volunteers work at the local rufugee camps/town and two of them asked if I would like to go along with them observe their classes. I jumped at the opportunity because honestly at that point I was terrified. Never having taught English I had no idea what I was getting myself into. We started the day off at Askar Girls School at 8am.

Askar Refugee camp was established in 1950 and is estimated to have 14,629 residents. It's not at all what I expected. I have only walked down the main city street so my judgments/impressions at this point really mean very little. But walking down the street it seems almost like any other street in small town America. Shops line the streets, people bustle from on shop to another, shop owners linger on the side walk talking to customers/friends that they've probably known for years. The school we volunteer at was built by the United Nation and is a school just for girls. It is much bigger than I thought it would be with its four buildings built around a open gym like area that the students use for their "sports" class. My arrive caused a minor stir, first with the head mistress who was eager to recruit me to work in the school from now on and second from the students who all wanted to know my name.

Because we only meet our Saturday students on Saturdays we meet with them for two hours instead of one. I spent the first hour with the volunteer working with the younger age rang. Because Saturday school is not mandatory children are allowed to show up or not show up at will. Sometimes they will bring friends and/or family members with them. That day one of the girls had brought their little sister with her to sit in on the class. The kids were loud and active, just like children are suppose to be. You had some that wanted to pay attention and others that just wanted to hangout with their friends. At the hour mark I went and sat in on another volunteers class. This volunteer was working with older girls and was going to use me for her lesson. She knew the girls would be curious about me so she told them they could ask me questions but I would only answer said question if it was ask correctly. It was fun to see these girls in action. They are a delightful contradiction to the girls I worked with in Benin.

At 10 we left and made our way to another one of the refugee camps. This camp, Balata, is home to over 17,000 residents. However, that is only an estimate and it is possible that the number is actually much higher. Balata was built by the UN to house refugees from the city of Jafa after the war with Israel. At first these people refused the UN's offer. They wanted to return to their homes they didn't want permanent homes to be created for them. So in 1952 the accepted the UN tents.This is a picture of Balata camp early 1950's.

In 1956 these people accepted the UN's offer of building concrete houses to replace the tents they were living in. The school also built by the UN was not as nice as the school in Askar and behavior of the students was generally worse as well. I feel like life in this camp may be harder than that of Askar and perhaps this explains these differences, again I am too new here to know anything for certain.

After leaving Belata we headed to a woman's center in a different area of town. This was the first class that I observed that had both boys and girls mixed together. These were all young children that we were dealing with. It was a fun lesson filled in which we talked about direction words, played pin the tail on the donkey and bingo using pictures of animals. These kids met for only an hour.

At the end of the day I was beat and so thankful to go home.

Arrival

It's been awhile I know. And I promise to come back and update on my final days in Benin and my travels across the Middle East but for now I thought I would simply focus on where I am now. After months of planning and arranging and years of wanting I now find myself sitting in an apartment in the West Bank city of Nablus.

For all those interested Nablus is located in the West Bank roughly 40 miles north of Jerusalem.With a population of 134,000 it is the largest city in the area.

So I left Jerusalem yesterday morning, I think, by nine. I had planned to leave earlier like 8 or so, but I had been sick most of the night before and I wanted grabbed on to any sleep I could. Thankfully with the help of Patrick I had managed to pack all my stuff up the night before so yesterday morning all I had to do was get in the shower and then pack up the bits and pieces I had been using that night/morning. With the help of the man who works/maybe runs the hostel Patrick and I were staying at I found that the bus I needed to take was just around the corner. So with bags in hand we made our way to the station. People were helpful and it really was easy to find so before I knew it and before I was ready I was saying goodbye to Patrick and finding a seat on the bus.

This bus would only be taking me part of the way there. I would be getting off in the city of Ramallah, which though smaller than Nablus seems to be a place of much activity. I was on the bus for roughly 40 minutes when we came to a stop and everyone seemed to be getting off. Someone at this point mentioned to me that this was the end of the line. I couldn't help but think to myself, "end of the line? did we even leave Jerusalem?" The cities are close enough and I guess with enough urban sprawl or perhaps smaller towns in between that it seemed like I had never left Jerusalem. And now here I was trying to figure out where to go next.

Now Project Hope had given me some instructions on how to get to them. I didn't really follow them. The bus didn't let me off at the bus station but instead by the side of the road at their last stop. This threw me off. So instead of finding a taxi to continue on with my journey I instead found another bus. Mind you this wasn't the simplest of processes. I asked the bus driver where I go next and he pointed vaguely in front of him, which considering in front of him was a busy street filled with tons of buildings, people and cars was not exactly helpful. So I asked a taxi driver. He very nicely offered to take me to Nablus after sharing with me the fact that he has two daughters living in America. Of course the common bond or interest didn't get me a lower fare because when I asked for the price of our journey he wanted something like 100+ sheckles which is over 30$ which is just crazy. A man standing behind me heard the exchanged and pointed to another bus that could take me, thankfully I made my way to it. This driver was much more helpful. Yes, he was going to Nablus but not til 2pm that afternoon. He did bring me to the cross road I needed to take to find the bus garage so I could find a bus that would take me.

People were helpful and I found and bordered my bus. I was expecting to have get off at various border crossing, show my passport and answer endless questions. But none of that happned. For those trying to leave Nablus it was a completely different story. Our bus passed a massive line of cars/people waiting to get out.

The problem with taking a bus and not a taxi into town was that I couldn't tell them where to drop me off. I had the name of a hotel I should go to but no idea where it was or how to get there. After I had been on the bus for some time and it looked like we were in a city/town area I worked up the nerve to start asking the people around me if they knew where I got off. It took a minute for me to find someone who spoke English. When I did they said to hold on and that they would help me. Finally my stop came, I didn't know it was my stop at the time till the people I had been speaking with told me to get off.

I don't think I mentioned that by this time the dark clouds that I had seen since leaving Jerusalem had become darker and darker and had started dropping tons of rain on us. I proceeded to follow this man and his son through the streets of Nablus in the rain as they brought me to the hotel I was suppose to go to. As a native they were use to the streets, rain, traffic but for me I was just struggling to try and keep up and not to fall on the slippery streets with my big huge backpack on me.

I arrive at the hotel a little wetter and colder than when I started my journey but over all no worse for wear. At the hotel I was able to call Project Hope and inform them that I was there and then the receptionist at the hotel called a taxi to come and pick me up. The taxi delivered me safe and sound outside of Project Hope where it seems I hit the ground running. Paper work was filled out, I met with several different people and I was given a tour of the city. It was all very overwhelming. I am suppose to start teaching on Sunday I believe and I'm scared. I don't know what I'm doing. The people I am living with are very friendly but they all seem to know so much more than I. More often than not in conversations I just sit there listening trying to figure out what they are talking about. I know I will learn in time. I just wish that time would come quickly. This is the part of new adventures that I hate most, the fear and uncertainty that always follows doing something new.

So now you know, I am here, I am safe and I am well. Today I am going to go into town and buy some groceries. I need to set a buget for myself so that I can last the 3 months I am planning on staying. More to come later I'm sure.

Until next time.....

The End

It's the beginning of the end. Well some would say that beginning started three months ago when the first plane carrying Peace Corps Volunteers from my training group left Cotonou. Others might say the end began back in May when we had our Close of Service confrence in Ouidah. But even after all of that I am still here. I've watched as my fellow volunteers and friends have one by one left and now it is finally my turn. Well it will be shortly. This Thursday, with my rented taxi full of all the stuff I've collected during my time in Benin, I will leave my home for the last two years and begin the journey towards Cotonou. I will spend the night in Parakou and continue on to Cotonou on Friday.

I'm not ready for this. I thought I was. I thought I'd pack up and leave here a little sad but excited about the next big thing. Well I'm still waiting for excitement to hit. Everyone says oh you must be so excited when I tell them about my post PC plans, and well, a couple months ago when I made them, I was. Now, I'm scared. Of what I am not exactly sure. I guess it's due to the general uncertainty that always accompanies change. Today me and Kelly (she is the volunteer that is incharge of the local office we keep in Kandi) moved a bunch of my furniture from my house to the office so that when the new volunteers come they can take what they want. Packing up really made me realize that this is over. I'm not going a trip somewhere, I am leaving for good.

Tonight or tomorrow I'm throwing a dinner for myself and my work partners. I bought us two chickens and some yams (to make yam pile) as well as some cheese (wagashi, it's nothing like what any of youwould consider cheese to be). My work partner and her daughter are going to prepare it and then we are all going to eat together. It will be a nice way to wrap things up I think.

There is so much more I want to say. It's been a really good last couple weeks here with a lot going on that I'd like to share, but I'm having a hard time focusing. I guess it will just have to wait until Thursday or Friday. Until then everyone...

Good Morning, Here's a Chicken

So yesterday morning I was woken up by a teenage boy who had been sent to my house to give me a chicken. To understand some of the akwardness of this you have to understand I sleep with my front door open (I have a screen door) and I only sleep in a pagnya (it's like a sheet) because it's hot. So when I'm when I'm startled to awkenness by "Co Co Co" (Beninise version of knocking) the first thing that runs through my head is hold on, gotta make sure all the important bits and pieces are covered.

Now anyone who knows me knows that I am not at my best and brightest first thing in the morning or basically upon waking up. I start out like a cave woman useing monosyllabic noises to communicate and gradually progress to being able to make full sentences. So when this guy shows up with a live chicken on my doors step somewhere between 7 and 8 am I'm more than a little confused.

He explains to me that it is a gift from this guy I know who lives on the other side of my village (I found out later it was ment to be a going away gift since we had talked earlier about how I only had a couple weeks left in my village) The boy obviously wants me to take this chicken that has been bound together at its feet and is currently handing from his fingers. I very obviously don't want to take the chicken. Don't get me wrong, I can't wait to eat the sucker, but I don't want to touch it, kill it or really have anything to do with it besides the eating part.

I remember being told by other volunteers who bought meat that often they would buy an animal and then bring it to someone in the village to kill for them and in exchange they would share some of the meat. I figured this would be a good plan of action for me as well. So I explained to the kid that I had no idea what to do with a chicken but if he would kill it for me I would gladly share the chicken with him. He seemed like he understood what I was saying when he walked away. It was only later that I found out that he didn't.

That afternoon I show up to my health center only to find out that upon leaving my house the boy went to the house of the pharmasit who lives just down the road from me and basically told him that he had tried to give me this chicken and that I didn't want it. Buhari, the pharmasist, figured this couldn't be right and told the kid so. He then instructed the kid to bring the chicken to my work parterns house and have them take care of it. Thankfully that's exactly what he did. My work partner Safia had her daughter kill it and cook it for me. This had all happend before I went to the health center I might add.

I was doing Karem or as we know it Ramadan so Safia invited me back to her house to eat dinner with her and her family. The fried chicken was there waiting for me to take home. Thankful that Safia's daughter Rebeka had taken care of the chicken for me I shared it with her, Safia and Safia's son and still had a couple pieces to bring home. Yum Yum Yum

Welcome Book

Each incomming group of new volunteers recieve a Welcome Book designed specifically for their sector with in Peace Corps. (There are four in Benin, health, environment, business and teaching english) The book is mostly designed to introduce volunteers to Benin but a letter from a previous volunteer is also included. This year my PC health boss asked me if I would be willing to write something up to be published in next years Rural Community Health Welcome Book. Here is what I wrote:

Welcome to the Benin Family!

Somewhere along the line I must have blinked. The two years that I was once so worried about have passed, and I can’t help but wonder, where did all the time go? Oh yeah, it was spent learning a new language – one that I am now comfortable enough with that I can use to do any number of things from order a meal, to arranging transportation, to explaining once again that it is perfectly normal that white people change color when in the sun too long. Time was spent trying to understand Benin, her people, her religions, her culture and traditions and ultimately what role I wanted to play in them. Arriving at my new home it tickled me pink when kids bowed before me when they would stop and say hello. What was I, royalty? Nope. It turns out that they just wanted to show me a sign of respect for simply being older than them by bowing before me.

The majority of my time here in Benin was consumed with the pursuit of work as well as fun. As a Rural Community Health Advisor I worked with the old and the young, with men as well as women. I weighed babies, made porridge, taught about HIV/AIDS, held classes to help empower young girls, and painted murals on the sides of buildings. I, along with my work partner, Safia, worked to improve the general health knowledge of our community. Through this process we became more than just work partners, we became friends. As I said earlier, a good portion of my time spent in Benin was simply having fun. Now this fun has come in a number of different guises such as sitting under a tree and talking to a local principal, hanging out at my work partner’s house, or chatting with the weavers as they go about their day. Of course there are also the other Peace Corps volunteers. There is not a volunteer in this country who I do not consider my friend, who I feel I could not turn to with a question, a favor, or a need. They have been my family while I have been here and we all know what kind of fun and mayhem one can have with their family. And if all else fails, there is the ever popular volunteer game of “goat or child”. (Don’t worry; you’ll understand when you get here.)

So close your eyes, take a deep breath, and get ready to jump into the adventure of a life time. You won’t regret it.

I hope that this gives all of you a glimps as to the positive side of what being a Peace Corps volunteers has been like for me.

So it's almost the end of July, where's the time going? It's been a pretty crazy month thus far and the next couple weeks will be just as crazy. As I mentioned in my previous entry, last week was Camp Kandi. Myself and two other health volunteers covered topic ranging from nutrition, to AIDS to malaria. It was a lot of fun but a lot of work and I didn't even have to organize the event which always tends to be the hardest part of any job over here. After Camp Kandi, I went back to post for a few days. On Wednesday I left to come down to Cotonou. Now, I know I've lived here for two years and all but I'm not sure how familiar you all are with the geography of Benin. My village is in the north east region of Benin. I am about an hour and a half south of the Niger/Benin boarder. The largest city in Benin, Cotonou, is on the cost and about a 10-13 hour bus/car ride. I did this on Wednesday, getting into Cotonou around 4 or 5. There were a couple reasons for this trip. One I had some paper work that I needed to get done which I am ashamed to say that due to reasons two and three didn't really get done. My really good friend Miriam left last night for America. It's been really hard watching everyone leave. I'm dreading my last month of service in a way because I'm going to feel like I am all alone. But anway, I wanted to spend some time Mir and get some teaching materials from here. She was an English teacher here and gave me a bunch of stuff to hopefully help me out when I go to Palestine in the fall. And then my third and final reason for coming down here was because the new volunteer arrived last night. Yep, our replacements landed in Benin around 8 last night. Where it then took them about 2 hours to make it through cutoms and get there baggage and make it out of the airport where several of us were waiting to greet them. There are 56 of them, I wonder how many will stay? We came to country with 59 and lost 20 some over the two years.

Me and Miriam at the airport

Camp Kandi

So this week marked the beginning of week two, the health week of Camp Kandi. What is Camp Kandi you ask yourself? Camp Kandi is a two week summer school designed by a PC English professor volunteer and led by various other volunteers from throughout the country. The camp is free and voluntary for any student in the local middles schools (there are 3) who wish to attend. The primary focus of this camp is to help these students develop their english skills, however the volunteer who created this camp wanted to take advantage of all potential helpers she would have with other pc volunteers as well as realizing that these student's education is in general greatly lacking so anything we could teach/do would be a benifit. So last week environment volunteer were invited to do sessions with the students once their english lessons were done and this week health volunteers are taking their place. Monday a volunteer taught the students about malaria, and today I talked about the three food groups, what they are, why they are important and which foods fall into each group. Tomorrow, myself and another volunteer will start talking about how AIDS is transmitted.

Today was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I've been doing this same lesson all around my region over the past couple months, and when I do the full session it lasts around 4 hours. Today I focused solely on the food groups, as well as making a comparison between the pourridge that they ate that morning before comming versus a reciept for a porridge that I wrote on the board. In total it lasted about 50 minutes give or take. But good grief was I tired by when I reached that 50 minute marker. And then I ended up doing it four times in all. I have developed a new found respect for teachers here. I always knew that their work wasn't easy, but wow.