11-21-12
“He who has health, has hope; and he who has hope, has everything. - ”Thomas Carlyle
So with pre training, swear in, and testing all completed and out of the way, I had apparently blossomed into a skilled and capable volunteer ready to tackle village life in the bush and put what I've learned over the past 3 months to the test. Our graduating intake, so to speak, had been treated to a few enjoyable accommodations and celebrated in a semi decent lodge in the capital where we all partook in the enjoyable company of one another through a series of evenings where we danced the night away, boozed and swam (a very rare treat in a land locked African country). It had been a nice conclusion to a grueling training session and we were all highly anticipating the next step.
What was in store was a 3 month period where we would be posted at our assigned village and be expected to engage in greeting, meeting and assimilating into our community. We were expected to make a community map of our respected 20 km area that included importnt landmarks. We were to interview farmers and community members about the seasonal changes, eat dinner with village head members, explore, find a language tutor, and generally try to gain the respect and admiration by getting involved in village life. I had been one of the more fortunate members of my intake in that I knew much more about my community then others and somewhat knew beforehand what I was walking into since I had already been there a few times previously. After 3 frantic days of shopping and attempting to purchase all the food and supplies that I would be needing to survive for the next 3 months, my cruiser ride was loaded and I took the first step forth to begin my stay in my new home; the village of Kalichero.
I had been lucky enough to be a second generation volunteer, meaning that I was to take over a site that was occupied previously by another volunteer, which I would find, would have its costs and rewards. I was replacing a couple who had been quite the model volunteers and even did well in inspiring me in how to perform my duties in a successful manner. They had several side projects aside from a few dozen fish pond projects including a turkey breeding project, a chicken broiler room and a number of other aids related projects and teaching at the local school. It was very clear that I would have large shoes to fill and even though the previous volunteer before me was an animal science major and had comprehensive knowledge in raising livestock and I didn't, I was determined not to let that hold me back and learn through experience.
So I jumped right in. I worked at trying to make my presence known and communicate clearly why and what I was doing in the village. The easy part was informing everyone that I was chuck's replacement and that I would be doing similar work. Since his stay had been a successful one, and everyone knew him and approved of his previous projects, most made the connection right away and had understood what my future endeavors would revolve around. I attended 2 village meetings with-in the first week and had some speeches where I made it clear on some of the things I wanted to get started on and accomplish during my stay. I was willing to work with farmers on an individual level by going out to their farm and assessing their site by giving a personalized and technical recommendation on weather they had an appropriate spot for a fish pond. Most of them did. I would stake and draw out pond plans, and tell them the first and most basic techniques into how to start developing their pond. I would then return in a weeks time and see if they had executed any of my advice. If they hadn't started, I knew they wouldn't be ideal clients to work with, but If they had started I could deem them motivated and worthy of earning my time and knowledge about improving their lives through fish farming.
Within the first month and a half I had recorded and staked out about 16 ponds at individual farmers sites and had seen about six ponds actually get dug out. When you factor in certain circumstances like the fact that fish farming in the Eastern province is not really seen as a serious money making venture due to water constraints, and the fact that farmers are mostly concerned with growing crops as a means for income and food, It had been a pretty fair accomplishment that I had fostered the amount of interest I had. With the help of my counterpart, and my semi competent language skills, farmers had been a real pleasure to work with and it was always and adventure in hiking out to these rural farms tucked away sometimes 4 or 5 KM into the African bush to help them plan out a future fish pond. I felt a warm sense of gratitude and thankfulness whenever I completed a pond stake or physically went to each of these farmers sites and I usually went home with a plethora of exotic fruits and vegetables that were being grown on their farm that they had insisted I take before I left.
As for my house, or should I say, mud hut, it had needed quite the amount of shaping up to meet my living standards. As I had mentioned earlier, a second generation inheritance has its costs and rewards. I had been rewarded with quite the extensive amount of kitchen ware, a bed frame, bookshelf, furniture and even an easy-shade that, despite its deteriorating condition and constant need for repair, had been a savior in a climate that had just as much sun as a erred California desert. It was nice not having to blow my entire community entry income allowance on everything one would need in starting to build a home from scratch. So really I needed only to fill in the gaps, but the gaps had proven to be a little wider then what I had anticipated.
The first week I spent every hour of daylight and even a fair amount of evenings (until a few candles would burn out) waxing floors, painting walls, nailing white cloth to the ceiling and ousting insects and critters that had discretely moved into the hut in the brief period of its vacancy in between Chuck (the previous volunteer) and myself. My hut was about 10'x20' with a small walk in living room that lead to a bedroom that was just large enough to squeeze in a double bed. There were a few windows and a bookshelf left behind by the previous volunteer for a slight feel of organization. My kitchen was a separate entity from my hut, a small insaka (gazebo) enclosed with a few tables, some bush chairs, with a homey and unique women's touch completed by African paintings and handy shelving. All in all, I was very satisfied with my new home. Yet, I had my complaints which I swallowed and seeked to remedy on my own affront. The walls on both my insaka and hut were deteriorating at a exponential pace. Living in a mud hut has its set backs. One; the dust layers that accumulate overnight are very difficult to compete with. A daily routine that I had found completely necessary was to sweep and dust, sometimes more then once to avoid the feeling that you were living in a mad max movie. Two; bugs seemed to be drawn and attracted to my hut much more then what I was accustomed to and it was a constant battle to squash, shew and kill all the friendly and not so friendly organisms that found their way into my home from wasps to giant ants to scorpion spiders and gigantic beetles. Termites also seemed to have their way with slowly doing quite the number to the wood support beams that held up my thatch roof. It wasn't uncommon to be sitting in a chair to feel the light sprinkle of sawdust rain over your head has a hungry termite gnawed away the ceiling beams overhead. But despite some of these setbacks, one can't ignore the fact that I had no rent to meet monthly, no water bill, no car payment, no utilities and virtually no bills other then food. It was a trade off that I was more then willing to bear and It humored me every morning to know that while I was here tending to all theses mundane house issues, my friends and family back in the states were fretting over the reality of trying to scrounge up enough money on a monthly basis to avoid getting thrown out on the streets. And it still does.
As the weeks would pass, I began getting a better and better feel for my village. I was becoming skilled at the art of hauling 40 liters of water from a boar hole that was 2 KM away to my hut by meticulously balancing them on my bicycle. I learned the names and approximate perimeter of my village and all the surrounding ones. I was giving and receiving gifts from neighbors community members and farmers on a constant basis and often ate supper with my counterpart and other new acquaintances within my villages. I was finding that I was beginning to be welcomed quite well and warmly. I attended a very long funeral, a very entertaining wedding and experienced many firsts including goat meat, rat meat, pigeon meat and various village brews, some tastier then others. It was quite the change of pace from my PST lifestyle and I was doing my best to embrace my new way of life while enjoying the new relationships I was fostering and people I was getting to know.
On a typical day, I would awaken around 6 to find a village up and about that had already started their day hours before my awakening. I'd light my charcoal brazier and then venture to the boar hole to draw water. After returning and finishing breakfast I'd review my daily schedule that I would have completely planned out on my own accord which would typically either be a venture to a few farmer's farms to stake ponds, or have my day revolve around house projects from trying to build compost bins, a pull up bar, a fence surrounding my hut and insaka and plans for an organic garden and general maintenance and upkeep around the hut. Depending on my appetite and agenda I'd sometimes prepare lunch and exhaust the remainder of the day with home improvement projects, sometimes good novels and always finish with a pasta or rice dish for dinner. The day always ended shortly after the sun would set and the village practically shut down to complete silence within an hour of darkness mostly due to the lack of electricity.
Having diagnosed many of the problems and challenges that my village was facing, I focused on a few reasonable practices that I felt would solve some of the problems people were facing on a basic grassroots level. I saw it within many peoples best interest to focus on organic farming and composting as a secondary project to fish farming. More then 95% of the income that people gained in my villages came from farming. It was a community comprised primarily of peasant farmers and all of them were dependent on expensive fertilizers that most couldn't afford and that would deplete the integrity of soil in the long run. With a village that had all the materials one would need for composting including manure that was available in massive quantities everywhere thanks to roaming livestock, it seemed like a no brainier to me. The soil in Africa is nutrient depleted and completely infertile, but with proper practice of composting, it seemed like many of their growing expenses could be minimized and the quality of the soil greatly improved over time. So in an attempt to lead by example, I started to build two large compost bins out of bush materials and proceeded to gather and compost materials on a daily basis mostly through enjoyable hikes deep into the African bush. Currently I have enough compost rotting to condition about half of my garden's soil, which I will do at the start of rain season in January. My goal is to have a thriving organic garden by February that I can use as a model and hard evidence that proves that all this material and manure gathering that I've been doing in the past few months is not just odd behavior by the new white guy in the village. With the way my compost is currently breaking down and developing, I have much confidence in meeting my goal and it seems that more and more of my community is getting increasingly interested and curious towards what I'm doing, which is working out perfectly according to my grand master plan.
Other plans that I have been developing is the introduction of sweet potatoes into my community, a rabbit breeding project and a teaching position at the local school. One of the beautiful things about peace corps is the freedom a volunteer has to do what they feel is most needed in their village despite what program they are trained and assigned to. Though I'm a fish farmer I can only do it on a seasonal level and plan supporting my community through other means as mentioned. Employment freedom is a dream come true and not having a boss looking over your shoulder constantly is one of my favorite things about this job.
With half of my community entry complete I can hardly wait to be let off the leash completely so I can visit other volunteers and explore the rest of what this majestic county has to offer. I thoroughly enjoy my village, the people within it, and all the work that I do. I can easily claim that this IS the best job I have ever had and though I encounter hardships often (like you'll soon read about in the next blog), I would always take a bad day here over a bad day in the states. With all the accomplishments I have made thus far into my service, I greatly anticipate further success and progress into many aspects of community development. I have reasonable and obtainable goals and visions on where I want to be by the time community entry ends, and where I want to be within a years time and by maintaining my determination and motivation I have confidence that good things lie ahead. This thanksgiving, I'm more thankful for who I am, what I'm doing, and this amazing opportunity that has been bestowed on me that to this day still makes me smile as I wake up everyday and remind myself that I'm in Africa..
