The next time you crack open a delicious can of tuna for lunch, I want you to imagine the following: picture squeezing yourself into said can and sitting down in it. Just when you're the most uncomfortable you've ever been in your entire life, picture your two best friends wedging themselves on either side of you and shoving their goat under your feet. Now, for good measure, have the neighborhood kids play kick-the-can with your “vehicle” for a few hours. Congratulations, you've just traveled in a Poda Poda in West Africa, the only means of transportation we Peace Corps Volunteers are permitted to use. All it takes is one trip in either the front seat, where any sudden slamming of the breaks and your kissing dirt potholes, or the back seat, where you're sure to spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair if you get rear-ended, to know that the only thing this could possibly be a “safer option” than is a Humvey in Afghanistan (sorry Afghanistan, I know, cheap shot). Either way, as I play sardine in the back seat of a Poda Poda and watch everyone on motorcycles zooming by with their hair majestically waving in the wind, I ponder the irony that being flexible sometimes doesn't actually allow you to move at all.
I promise, I'm almost done bitching, but first, allow me to catch you up on the goings-on of the last five or so months since I've last written. January through March sucked. I spent most of the time being sad, pissed, bitter, and generally resenting everything about Sierra Leone and my situation here. Good news though...it passed! Apparently, it's referred to as “cultural fatigue,” and just about all of us were suffering from it at the same time. Just when you think you've successfully navigated your way through culture shock and are totally integrated and have mastered living in Africa, cultural fatigue sets in. It makes you irritable, grouchy, and downright unpleasant to be around, but thankfully, it does pass. The cool part though is that just when I was at my lowest, I would force myself to get out and walk around, and invariably, without fail, something really cool would happen. Someone would feed me, talk to me and make me laugh, or even just say hello; but no matter what, someone in Bauya would always make me feel at home.
Next came April, a fascinating month. School was, for all intents and purposes, shut down for a month in preparation of a two day sports extravaganza that happens at most schools in the country once a year. I actually had it pretty good on account of my principal being fantastically driven and willing, almost eager, to piss people off in order to accomplish his mission- to teach. Some of my colleagues didn't teach in March either, giving these overachievers what I would have called an extended spring break, but what they called torture. Most of them far surpass me as a teacher though, so I suppose their reaction is not surprising. But needless to say, the St. Peter's Sportstravaganza was AWESOME. It was fantastically refreshing to see the kids doing something they enjoy doing instead of doing something they're forced to do, and selfishly, it was nice not being seen as the Mussolini of my school and show the kids that I like to have fun too, just not while I'm trying to impart in them the grammatical nuances of the gerund. Next year's project will be to see if I can get them to squeeze sports preparation in after school and at night so that we can teach a little in Term 2 as well.
Good news, the rainy season has arrived!! My God it's been hot. Too hot to write a blog, that's for sure. Typical dry season though, it just can't let go. It keeps coming back hotter and meaner than ever, but the respite that the rain provides is truly rejuvenating. The beginning of the rain season also means it's plating season. This weekend was spent clearing and plowing my mini-farm on the land behind my house. I'm planting corn and okra in the back, and the cassava and potato leaf on the side of my house. Also very exciting is that due to my method of planting flowers (throw as many seeds as possible everywhere in the front of the house), it looks like a botanical garden puked in my front yard. A fun cultural difference I've discovered is found in the way we look at things like flowers and plants. For example, my neighbors call them weeds and keep trying to get me to burn it all to the ground. “Fat chance,” I say. “Enjoy the snakes,” they retort. As usual, they win, but until a snake bites me, I'm going to enjoy the hell out of my garden.
I'm currently developing a few projects with my principal, who is lighting it up. We've already accomplished the renovation of the school and a few weeks ago attended a signing ceremony at the US Embassy in Freetown to secure funding for a toilet project (surprisingly, not a shitty project at all...hiyo!). The digging has begun for a staff toilet, and we will be refurbishing the student toilet as well. In addition, we have three pretty big projects in the pipeline which I am eager to share the details of, but we want to put a few things in place first.
I'm looking forward to Term 3, mostly because it couldn't possibly be worse than Term 2, but also because I feel like I've learned a lot and am significantly more prepared to deal with the trials and tribulations of teaching. What it's looking like this experience is boiling down to is that academic year one was not a complete wash, but it's just so different that what I expected and what I experienced as a student. Year two, however, is going to be a whole different ball game. My principal and I are already working on a Code of Conduct for both students as well as teachers, and were planning a teacher in-service training. Our preparation is going to be much better which should lead to a much more productive and successful school year next year...inshallah.
Well unfortunately my time is out, but even more unfortunately for you I'll be writing again soon with a summary of our project proposals. As always, thank you for your love and support, it is felt.
Be Well,
Surba
