Valentines Day

I hate Valentine’s Day. Ok wait, let me back up. I have never hated Valentine’s Day until I came to this country. I have spent the last three days making silly decorations for the Youth Center for reasons which still have not been fully explained to me. Some sort for event, I really have no clue. The other thing is, people in this country are so rediculously crazy over this holiday. Yesterday, my high school put an average-sized decorated box in the common area. ALL DAY students were piling that thing up with notes and letters they had written for their Valentine. I mean these are middle school and high school students we’re talking here. I don’t think I would have had the guts to give my secret crush a Valentine in Middle School. Even if it was done anonymously. But these kids spent all day yesterday in class and everywhere writing these elaborate phrases and drawing cheesy pictures that will be distributed today to the classes. I could not believe the enthusiasm that went into this event. I mean, maybe they are writing to their girlfriends and boyfriends. It is entirely possible that every single one of my eighth graders has a significant other. In fact when I told one class yesterday that I didn’t have a boyfriend, they all laughed and gave me looks like “yeah right, Teacher.”

Leland and I were discussing this phenomenon last night, and we could honestly not wrap our heads around it. We can’t understand why they are so into this particular holiday. And in it with such vigor. I mean, decorations, and secret letters, and cheesy phrases and poems found on the internet. They love cheesy crap like this. But the idea of a relationship is not a steady institution. In fact, I dare you to find one Cape Verdean male over the age of 16 who has not cheated on his girlfriend. The Kriolu term is troca pé, which literally means, “change feet” for cheating. So I don’t get it. It’s shameless and so enthusiastic unlike anything I have ever seen. Maybe if I say St. Valentine is in the hospital, they will all line up with equal vigor for the condoms distributed there. I don’t know.

Yes, I did receive Valentines from students and here is a sampling of what one said (yeah in English):

I love you so much
I don't know to who love you but not who smiles,
To you, who smiles to you, doesn't love you and
who love you, is here crying for you, is not
fair I need to know the reason why caan't we be
one. There's no resaon my love is here for you.
...tell me if you want will be my girlfriend.


Yeah. Not exactly sure who it was from. Doesn't matter. So rediculous.

Sorry I don’t get much time to sit on the internet for hours on end anymore, so this was written at home a few days ago, I am little behind, but hopefully that makes it a little better edited…

12 February 2007

Thank God for the preservative….

The Portuguese word for condom is preservativo.

Today, I ran into a girl from one of my eighth grade classes who hasn’t been back to class this entire trimester. I had an idea why, as it is not an uncommon phenomenon, but my suspicions were confirmed when I saw her today. She called to me on the street and I went over to see her. I always liked her; she was more often than not interested in what I had to say in class. And since she was in the Spawn of Satan class, the fact that she occasionally paid attention made me like her all the more. Well the first thing I noticed when I saw her in the street was the protruding belly. We proceeded to make small talk and I asked her why she hadn’t been back to class this trimester (already knowing the answer but isn’t that what small talk is?). She patted her belly. Having been prepared for this response, I reacted as cheerfully as I could and congratulated her. I then asked her if she was happy and she responded that she was, even though it appeared as though she was going to burst into tears just at the sight of me: a symbol of what her life was and could have been had she not made one (or probably repeated) silly decision. She told me she didn’t know the gender of the child, as she was only two months along which I know to be a complete lie as I would not have been able to see the belly from across the street had that been true. She told me this lie because she’s known about the pregnancy for a while now. My guess would be about 5 months at least. In this country, if you are pregnant you are kicked out of school immediately. She had managed to hide it until she could no longer pretend that she was simply gaining weight and dropped out of school after the first trimester of her eighth grade year. She is 15 years old.

As I walked away, I thought to myself about what anyone could have done to prevent this. Obviously this was not planned, nor had she delighted in the fact that she found some sneaky way to get out of going to school. Abstinence is about as unheard of as being on time here, so the only thing anyone can really do for these children is preservation. In steps my preservativo.

Interestingly enough, I continued to think about my pregnant student all day, including at dinner. I had decided to try one of the items my grandparents sent (by the way, thank you so much I just love everything, really). It was a package of dried beef flavored stir-fry type noodles; a miracle dish that you just add water to and instantly becomes a meal. To this I added broccoli and made a lovely dinner for two that turned out to be quite tasty. My grandparents’ package took about two months to get here, and all that time every single item in that package stayed preserved. It all arrived just as “fresh” and ready to eat as when it was purchased off the shelf 8 weeks prior. And to that I say, thank God for the preservative.

But as I started to think about my food, and my pregnant student, I realized that nothing here in this country is preserved. When we go grocery shopping, there are no mixes, no dried beef flavored noodles; not even any white eggs (on that note, I think it would be slightly amusing to show a Cape Verdean a white egg. I don’t think they would believe that it was actually a chicken egg). Everything we buy is either fresh or frozen, but never preserved. The listed ingredient on the back of the can of tomatoes is just that: tomatoes. The canned tuna contains tuna and vegetable oil. Even the jar of Nusco (a Nutella-type delicious chocolate spread) has less than 8 ingredients in it, all of which I have heard of and can pronounce. Now I am not saying that I don’t enjoy preserved food, in fact the entire time I was eating my newly acquired Ramen Noodles for lunch (thank you Grandma and Grandpa) I was praising the sodium caseinate and the disodium guanylate that made it possible for me to be enjoying such a scrumptious lunch.

The idea of such a preservative is not in practice here the way it is in the States. We Americans preserve everything, including ourselves. I mean, granted of course, we definitely have our fair share of unplanned teenage pregnancies. But the educational backing for preservation is there and there are an abundant number of resources for anyone who is interested. That is hardly an option here. There is no CVS or Osco pharmacy down the street that I can pick up my choice of condoms, let alone a Planned Parenthood. Here, there is only the public hospital or the occasional day when they are given out at school. And NO ONE wants to be seen going into the hospital for just condoms. The waiting room is the steps outside of the too-small building so everyone sees you go in and out. Apparently the backwards philosophy is that they are too embarrassed to be seen going into the hospital to get condoms for fear everyone will know what they are up to, but when they show up three months later for the sonogram, that’s ok.

So there is some work to be done in this much-unpreserved country. The food can stay as is. And while it is a little blander and not nearly so tasty and interesting as the preservative-infused miracle foods, it is by far healthier, and in this sense they are preserving their bodies. But this society needs to continue the preservation of themselves; not allow their 15 year old daughters to get pregnant. Education is the only road I see, and I am currently trying my hardest to push for it. But I am one person, albeit accompanied by 40 other volunteers in this country who are hopefully trying as hard as I am. So I will continue to eat my Ramen noodles while perusing over more effective ways of educating the youth about self-preservation. And it is to this I say: thank God for the preservative :)

I had some interesting thoughts last night while I was in a particularly funky mood. Tuesdays are my day from hell. Between teaching class and tutoring I spend about a total of 6 hours at school. Boo.

Oh the glory days. I almost can't remember a time without...:

1. Credit/debit cards. Everything is cash. I can't even buy a plane ticket without cash.
2. A car
3. New music
4. Movie theater/new movies (although the video rental place that provides sometimes sketchy copies of movies is fairly up to date. And on that note, Miami Vice should go down in history as the worst movie on the planet).
5. Leland
6. A beach and hammock
7. Painting/learning Arabic and Hebrew for fun. I mean who does that besides Leland and me?
8.Writing this blog.
9. Seeing my family for over 6 months straight. I miss them :(
10. Cooking all my own meals (although I should get used to this. It's not a unique PC thing I know).
11. Rarely speaking my own language (of course except with Leland).
12. SHOPPING!!! Oh how I miss you Scottsdale Fashion Square. Don't worry Coach store, I'll be back!!
13. Um oh yeah, HOT WATER. Although interesting note, I actually took the time to warm up water this morning and take a bucket bath. It was so all it was cracked up to be.
14. Handwashing and hanging all my clothes. Please see picture below. Trust me when I say I do this every 3-4 weeks and I am sore for the next week afterwords.
15. My friends. I miss you guys :(
16. Making fun of my sister to the amusement of my brother.
17. Cheap(ish, relatively) fruits and vegetables.
18. CHIPOTLE!!! Enough said.
19. Not using a match every time you light the stove/oven. You get burned more than you think.
20. Plastic lawn furniture. Yes, our tables and chairs provided by the PC are outdoor plastic patio furniture. Classy.
21. The dollar. I have no concept. Who wants to shop with escudos? Or at all?
22. BABW!!!
23. Yeah my little law school buddies!! :) Congrats on being over 1/2 way through Brian and Melanie!!
24. ZOO CREW!! Can we all meet up and do something gong-show like, like play touch football at 3am in the snow?
25. Vegas. Who wants to go? Brian, I knew you'd say yes.
26. 24/7 Internet access. Although in all fairness, I have it better than a lot of other volunteers.
27. TV. What even is that?
28. SUNS games. Daddy I'd go with you!
29. Ranch dressing (but thank you Mel for the steady supply, I think about you every time I eat it, which is like everyday)
30. While we're on food topics, SUSHI!! I love sushi so much. And a decent salad. Like the Southwest Caesar Salad from Paradise Bakery.
31. A garbage can. Remarkably, you can't buy one here on my island. So we hang plastic carrier bags from the kitchen door knob. Incidentally, if you're looking for something to pad those packages, those plastic bags you get from the grocery stores very much come in handy here. Wait, what's a grocery store?
32. Exercise. I've become kinda freakish about that.
33. The symphony chorus of dogs outside our apartment. Oh yeah and sleeping with ear plugs.
34. Obscene amounts of dust/sand everywhere. I mean everywhere.
35. Wearing glasses everyday. I wear contacts about once a week. They hurt my eyes. See point 34.
36. Not having a couch. We have a foam double bed mattress that substitutes poorly.
37. Heating/AC.
38. Drinking water out of a refillable filter. Believe me when I say it's a huge pain in the behind to fill that thing up like every other day.
39. No sliced bread. Seriously.
40. Making silly lists like this :)

Well that's all I have to say for now.

A few years ago, there was a contest in the United States that asked people to write an exposition on American life and culture. I don't remember the exact details of the contest but I do remember that the winner was a returned Peace Corps Volunteer. It is not that Americans don't fully understand their own culture, but those who are removed from that culture for a time experience a type of insiders scoop to an outside opinion. There are several groups of people who remove themselves from Western culture for various reasons. Those in the Military, for example, are asked to leave their friends and families and serve an aspect of life that involves removing themselves from their culture, while remaining culturally aloof in the country they are serving. On a culturally similar level, people in foreign service travel to countries to serve a government and therefor live slightly above the norm. Now, I am not trying to be the poster child for Peace Corps service, you all know that this experience has had its taxing moments. But my point is the PC service allows you to live amongst people. I live, work, hang out, talk, joke, laugh with these people. The Peace Corps has three pillars of cultural immersion: 1. To help those within the host country help themselves; 2. For us volunteers to learn about another culture (and then in turn bring that knowledge back with us); 3. To help our host country to better understand our culture. What happens when you live and breathe amongst another culture while still retaining values and memories of your original culture, you blend the last two pillars of cultural immersion together. I have started to learn about me and my original culture. It's like looking at an older version of yourself through the eyes of someone whose life is nearly the complete polar opposite of your previous existence. It is in this sense that the winner of the contest was able to so completely evaluate and comment on American life and culture.

Yesterday I found myself browsing the Internet Movie Database. After looking at the nominees for the next Academy Awards and realizing I had heard of none of them (nor had I seen previews, nothing), I decided to get a better idea of the basic plot outline for a few of these upper echelon movies. Now, admittedly, the film industry (and on a slightly larger scale, entertainment as a whole), is only a part of Western culture, but a fairly significant part in my opinion. But what I stumbled upon were the top five movies currently playing at the box office (disclaimer: I am going solely by what IMDb.com posted so I don't know exactly how accurate it is or how often they update). Of course, having heard of none of them, I decided to browse each one for a plot summary. What I found made me (and Leland) laugh out loud. In first place was your typical potty-humored, Wayans brothers mock of every serious movie that has made over $100 million in the past year or so. In second, was (again typical) mobster, hit-em-up chaser movie with a lot of cultural slang and cool regional accents. Third came another cheesy, trying-too-hard to be funny Ben Stiller comedy with an excuse for lame comedy engulfed by an even lamer plot line. Fourth made us laugh the hardest: the predominantly African American dance-off movie, made with the same cookie cutter as You Got Served, Save the Last Dance and even Drumline. And finally, in fifth place came the staple romantic comedy about a woman trying to move on in life after tragedy strikes (yes, I know my idol Jennifer Gardner graced this one, but as lovely as she is, come on). I feel like the only thing missing from the list was a sleeper Sundance flick or a save-the-world before the hour and half is up type craziness.

Now, I understand that I have just garnered a flash, a glimpse if you will, of American life. But that is exactly my point. Because my entire world doesn't flow within American culture, I can step back and observe when and what I want. And having an insider perspective (having lived within this American culture for 20 years of my life) allows me to more objectively evaluate nuances within the culture. I can watch your life go buy with a filter, observing points that stand out the most. And because these points of culture tend to stand out so much (and because American culture has always been something of a fluorescent light to a bug) people in other cultures tend to pick up on these major points. So in this instance, I am not only gaining my own unique perspective on American culture, but I can also observe others observing American culture and therefor understand why they have the views that they do. If a Cape Verdean were to look at my list of five movies, for example, the would probably be interested in only two of them. Movie number two because of its gun-toting, shoot-em-up ridiculousness and movie number four because of the dancing contest and the fact that most of the cast is African American. They may even assume that all the actors are Cape Verdeans who are living in America.

Which brings me to my next point. The general outlook on life as well as areas of common sense are often astoundingly naive or just very different. For example, we have an African American volunteer her with us. When he arrived, everyone just assumed that he was Cape Verdean. Not that he was from the country Cape Verde, but that he was a Cape Verdean living in America. They just assume that all the black people they see in America were at one point Cape Verdean. That another African country has people living in the US is a concept a lot of people here don't understand. Another example: During my medical issues, I left for Praia on a Wednesday (missing that day of class) and returned the following Wednesday (missing that day of classes as well as all the days in between) and returned to classes Thursday. But because I returned in the middle of the week, my students denied the fact that I had been gone a whole week. "No," one of my students said, "It's only Thursday. You haven't been gone a whole week!" I argued with my tenth graders for five minutes, insisting that I had missed four classes and not two (as they had assumed because they seemed to have forgotten that I was gone for two classes the week before). Because I wasn't gone a named week, I clearly wasn't gone for a whole week. Even though eight days, to me, constitutes slightly more than a full week, no matter how you name it. It's these simple and minute observations that interest me. I often wonder where the foundation for this type of thinking came from. And then you see their ideas of America, that everyone is rich and the weather is perfect all the time (granted these views are not limited to Cape Verdeans, but probably a majority of similarly situated countries). But being immersed within this culture I am starting to grasp where these opinions come from. One cannot look at the representation of American culture in my magic list of movies and not gain some kind of crazy conclusion. So here are my own conclusions about a life I left behind and can now only glimpse when I get a flash of a cultural point that was strong enough to make its to my newly found cultural level and side of the world.