Journal of a PCV Parent Cont. Dogon Part 2

Dogon Children
As we traveled through the Dogon climbing cliffs, hiking through Millet fields and walking through villages, children constantly accompanied us. This was a joy and a sorrow. The children of the Dogon were open to visitors, curious and playful. They were our eyes into village life. We would always pay homage and cola nuts to the village elders, the women would tolerate us and patiently teach us what we expressed interest in, but the children wanted contact. They loved Zach’s hairy blonde arms and would vi for a chance to hold our hands. Many were healthy and full of mischief (more on that later), some were opportunistic and looking for handouts of bonbons or trinkets (a pesky habit made worse by tourist) some however looked at you with vacant eyes and distended stomachs. Some had festering eyes and sores, runny noses or deformities that could have been prevented. It was hard to be a tourist, walking through the village and holding hands of children who wanted the contact but did not smile back. Hard knowing that you were not bringing them anything that could help. I know there are organizations trying to help with deworming and immunization programs, but without proper nutrition practices, health is a precarious thing. Childhood is a tough milestone to get over in West Africa. There are many organizations trying to take on this task. I began to realize that “drops in a bucket” are important. On to the mischief: One day after descending the cliffs at dusk, three giggling girls came out of a millet field to show me something they had made. It was getting hard to see but I bent down to look and cupped the “toy” and tried to tell them through signs that it was nice, “good job! Show it to Lauren and Marissa.” The next day Lauren asked me if I had seen what they had shown us. I said yes but I didn’t know what it was. She said they had speared live cockroaches and were trying to scare us! UGHH! (However they must have thought that I was very brave!) That was not the only joke played on me by West African children. I was also locked in a latrine one day and I had to laugh as I heard them giggling, but I did shake my finger at them (in perfect West African disciplinary stance) when I finally was released. The pictures that I share are mostly of the lucky children. I did not photograph the sick children but you have seen them on posters. They are real. Support the organizations that do help. Read Dancing Skeletons by Katharine Dettwyler

Journal of a PCV Parent- A word about Volunteers

Journal Cont.
Peace Corps Volunteers
I want to write about PCVs through a mother’s eye, but also pay tribute to aide workers of all kinds and professions. The world is keenly aware of what they do, the differences they make and the sacrifices endured, sometimes at too dear a price. In the past two weeks this has been highlighted in Haiti. One of the first thoughts I had when I began to realize what was happening there was “Are there PCVs there and what are their parents going through?” There are currently no PCVs in Haiti, so my heart stopped aching for a millisecond and then I began to think of all the other families of UN, World Vision, NGOs and many other aide workers, volunteers and professionals working without borders and the Hattions themselves. For the 5 weeks I was in West Africa, I witnessed an amazing resilience in the people I met, coping in a world with so much less than I had ever experienced. The volunteers there were so respectful of the West African way of life wanting only to help them enrich it in ways that were meaningful and sustainable. In order to have this insight the volunteers first respected the culture and took the time to learn it, live it and integrate it into their lives. They did not become West Africans; they embraced and loved West Africans and their culture. You already know Zach through this blog. Let me introduce you to three others.
Nick: A sometimes dark, but kind and funny humor- able to joke about things that would drive you nuts if you always had to take them seriously. He is kind with a big heart.
Lauren: So soft spoken. She is a quiet observer; gentle and kind to all she meets. When you talk to Lauren she really listens. She is very sensitive and I sense that is sometimes at a cost to her. She is an old soul and therefore, so wise.
Marissa: A wonderful spirit, a sprite! Her laugh is infectious and healing. She has so much to give and such a great way of seeing the fun in it all.
We met many other young men and women who seemed to be coping, thriving, learning and sharing. On top of all that they were doing, they made time for Dave and I and welcomed us into their lives as though we were family. You guys (PCVs) are awesome! Thanks for your welcome and assistance as we traveled through your territory

Well Project

Its been over a year and a half since I left America, and much has happened. I have lived in four different villages and two different countries. I have traveled through five different West African countries. I have been more frustrated than I ever remember being in my life. I have met many wonderful people. I have discovered more about who I am and what my culture is. I have grown. I have grown things. I have had many failed projects. I have had some successful projects.

Its been a while since I have posted on the blog (there is new post up as of today which is probably good to read before you get to the part of this email where I ask you to contribute money toward a project I am working on), and its been even longer since I wrote anyone a letter. My decrease in communication was originally due to the boredom of having to go through training a second time when I switched to Senegal, then to being occupied with going on vacation around West Africa with my parents, then to being overly busy. Now that all of that is done I feel that I have really settled into the Peace Corps Senegal lifestyle and the particular lifestyle of my new region and site, all of which I am finding easier to enjoy than I did in Mauritania.

I the most recent blog post I mentioned the big project I am working on which is helping Samalé and Ablaye build an ecotourism lodge. I described the physical layout but not the real purpose of the lodge. As a philosophy the Peace Corps exists to help communities, but it is often not possible to help a community without greatly helping certain individuals in the process. This is, in many respects, a good thing. The lodge that I will helping them to build will do both.

When they were younger Samalé Diallo, Ablaye Diallo, and Boubacar Diallo went out to the waterfalls at Segou and had the idea of developing a village owned and operated tourist lodge. Due to poor site placement (on the side of a steep hill with no terracing = lots of erosion during the rainy season) and poor construction (the walls were made out of thin bamboo strips that were devoured by termites each year), the previous three attempts have failed. However, throughout the three attempts Samalé, Ablaye, and Boubacar have retained "rights" as far as the village was concerned to be the ones to develop the lodge, and profit as its managers. In the past, after the salaries of staff were paid, all of the profit went to the village. This is part of the reason they failed, there was no money set aside for reinvestment. There is a lodge in Dindefelo, the village next to Segou, that has suffered from exactly the same situation, all the profits going to the village and no reinvestment. Despite continued contributions from NGOs and other charitable organizations, the lodge in Dindefelo has been in a continual state of disrepair for the last 20 years. Meanwhile, a private lodge has been built in Dindefelo by a native of Dindefelo and has done exceptionally well.

Learning from their own experiences, the experiences of Dindefelo, and still wanting to contribute to the community, Samalé, Ablaye, and Boubacar have decided to run the lodge as a private/public enterprise. Where 40% of the profits would be reinvested in the business, 50% would pay the staff, all natives of Segou, and 10% would go directly to the community. The community would then use these funds for projects in the village. In addition to this, every visiting tourist would pay a "tax" of 1,000 F.CFA (approximately $2 USD) 50% of which would go to the regional governance structure and 50% would go directly to the village of Segou.

When Matt and Hayes, fellow volunteers, helped Samalé and Ablaye to submit request for funding, which was granted, they were not able to include the funding for digging a well or for a small water tower for the lodge because there was a cap on the amount of funding the source could offer. Fortunately, there is a great organization, Water Charity, which offers funding through their appropriate projects initiative for water projects that Peace Corps Volunteers are overseeing. I have applied for funding through them, and they have agreed however, they operate off of donations. This is where you come in.

One of the really nice characteristics of donating to Water Charity is that 100% of the money donate goes towards projects. Another really nice thing is that you all know the person who is in charge of this project. If you ever felt like you wanted to do something for people in Africa, or help me out in my work, this is your chance. The total cost of the well and water tower is about $500 so every $10 donation helps. You can find a more detailed description of the project and details about how to donate, you can do it online at: http://appropriateprojects.com/node/94

Also if you are not interested in helping other people but still want to spend some money, you are all welcome to forward care packages (especially BBQ sauce and blue cheese salad dressing for locally available warthog sandwiches) directly to me at this location:

Zach Swank
Corps de la Paix Kedougou
B.P. 37
Kedougou, Sénégal
L’Afrique d’Ouest

Happy New Year!

Its been a while since I have posted and this time it is not for want of activities as it was in the fall of 2009, in fact, just the opposite. After training version 2.0 was over, actually it was really just training 1.0 all over again, mom and Dave came and went, and life has picked up big time.

I can’t remember if I have described my new village yet, so I’ll do it now. It’s a small village of about 1,200 people, near the Guinea border. It’s a big change from my previous town in Mauritania, much more picturesque, very few concrete buildings and much less electricity ;). Its right at the base of a low plateau, all round huts with thatched roofs. The villagers seem to have a bit of an eye for aesthetics, as many have stream bed stone “patios” outside the front doors of their huts (although in reality these exist for the much more practical reason of door mats that keep dirt, dust, and sand from being tracked into the huts.) All of the housing compounds are closed off by woven bamboo fences. Bamboo is very abundant here, finally fulfilling my childhood dream of living in a place where I could build things out of bamboo. There are narrow, worn down foot paths that zigzag between the bamboo fences and lead to the cattle proof entrances to each compound. In order to keep the cows out, but unfortunately not the goats, where they want to make an entrance in the fence they lower the height of the fence about half way and then make “steps” up and down on either side by using two forked vertical pieces to support a horizontal log. One steps on the log, then on to the fence, then on to the log on the other side and back on to the ground. Not being totally accustomed to this process, I do it somewhat awkwardly, but the native women do it with a full bucket of water on their heads without spilling it. At some point I plan on just hurtling over them, it would either be impressive if I made it or humorous if I fall, either way its another good way to entertain the villagers.

As I mentioned, the village is situated right at the base of a plateau range that serves as the foothills to the mountains in Guinea. That plateau is more or less the reason I am here; it provides the vertical drop needed for waterfalls and a sanctuary for chimpanzees. The waterfall near my village is certainly not the most spectacular in the region, but the hike out to it is. The waterfall itself is, I forget exactly, maybe 100 feet tall and falls into a small pool that immediately flows underground and resurfaces as a stream 30 farther down. This characteristic gives it somewhat of a magical feeling. However, like I said, the hike out there is the real draw for me. You are hiking through a fern and bamboo lined ravine that gradually gets narrower and narrower as you approach the waterfall. Since very few streams flow year round, being in the ravine at this time of year feels a little like being in an oasis (I can say this with confidence having actually been in a desert oasis recently). The other interesting aspect about the hike is that there is only somewhat of a trail. There are often times when you are scrambling over rocks and cantilevered a few feet above the water. Some tourists and guides have complained that it is too difficult, I think they just don’t know how to have fun. All the same, one of my projects will be to “fix” it up a bit while maintaining its character. Thus far the chimpanzees have been elusive, aka I have not seen one. However, I am told that later into the dry season they occasionally come into town to steal mangoes. Think raccoon in your trash can except this raccoon has 98% the same DNA as you. The local government covering my villages and the ones surrounding it is in the works of establishing the plateau area as a chimpanzee reserve. This of course has all sorts of potential and even more pitfalls. The idea was proposed by a local NGO called Wula Nafaa which is funded by USAID. They have brought in a specialist with experience creating parks and in my lack of experience they seem to be doing the right things.

As I mentioned, work has been picking up. Since I moved into a “fixer upper” of a hut, I have made that my first project. My hut, like all the others in the village is round and made out of woven bamboo walls covered in mud, then a thin layer of cement, and painted white. The walls are about 7 feet high and the room is about 15 feet in diameter, it is big by comparison to some others in my village. Last rainy season some of the thatching was washed away which caused the rapid disintegration of the walls in a few places. I have been nagging the village chief, who has welcomed me into his family and let me use HIS hut, to get the roof repaired before idiots burn all of the grasslands (more on that later). My hut is located in the corner of the small field inside the chief’s compound so I have a bit of privacy from the rest of the family. Behind my hut, as per Peace Corps regulation, the chief put in a pit latrine and also a cement slab to shower on. The pit latrine I greatly appreciate but the problem is that both the latrine and the shower are sloped so that any excess water runs directly towards my back door. Over my time here in west Africa I have had numerous conversations about why people seem to lack a certain ability to think critically. I will probably go into this in greater detail at some point, but my current understanding is that it is a product of environmental factors that created cultural traditions that have amplified the affect of the environmental factors. Anyway, when I take a shower or wash my hands after going to the bathroom, the path to my back door gets muddy. I solved these problems by digging a compost pit that absorbs the runoff water from my pit latrine and making a bamboo channel that collects the water from my shower and directs it toward the mango tree growing in my back yard. Also growing in my back yard is an intensive Moringa bed. Moringa Oleifera is the “miracle tree” with leaves as nutritious as multivitamins and tasty as spinach. Peace Corps and many other NGOs have been promoting is use for years. Normally people will grow one or two trees in their compounds and occasionally harvest the leaves. What I am doing is treating it like a vegetable, not a tree. I have planted several hundred trees just a few inches apart and every time they get two feet tall I will harvest all the leaves and cut them back to the ground. My motivation for doing this is that my family is pretty poor, and so is the food we eat. This is actually the mark of a good village chief, he is supposed to give up anything he has to the village or any villagers who want it. I also have started a small mint plot, since my village doesn’t have any and because mint is hardy enough to handle not being watered for a few days when I leave, especially since I placed in the shade under the eve of my hut. I am saving the rest of the space in my little garden to grow and propagate flowers and shrubs for the tourist lodge I will be helping my counterparts to build.

Speaking of which, it’s the ecotourism lodge that has me really busy. There have been several attempts to build lodges at my village before but all have suffered from being built of thin woven bamboo strips, that the termites eat every year, and built on a hill that washes away the floors of the huts every year. My counterparts had contacted a few other volunteers, Matt and Hayes, and asked them to help find funding. They had already started doing this before I transferred to Senegal. Right about the time I showed up at site for the first time, the money had gone through and I had a $5,000 USD project to manage. It has been great to be able to jump right in to a project since I had to leave all of the ones I had worked for a year to build up behind in Mauritania. On the other hand, it is probably not exactly the project I would have done myself if I had started from scratch. Despite that, I am very grateful to have the work to do. I am having to play catch up a bit since I am new to this project and they need to finish building it before the rains come in May. One of the first things I worked out with them was that my role was going to be that of a guide, I would be there as a consultant but it was their project to do or not do. Of course, the money would disappear if they chose the latter. The new lodge will be built in a location with a view of the valleys and mountains, terraced, and be constructed of cement. It will have five huts with internal bathrooms, a restaurant, and a guard’s hut. This small ;) project and many others have been keeping me running around and loving having work to do again after nearly four months with nothing to do. I’d love to talk about the others as well but I fear that this post is already longer than attention spans.

In short, happy new year to everyone, I am very happy where I am at, my life, and the work that I am doing, but as always, I miss you all very much.

Journal of a PCV Parent Mali Part 1

Village escorts
Sliding rock
Dogon Ladders
Returning from the market!
Going down the escarpment
Dancing on the desert to Jimmy!

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Journal cont: On to the Dogon country of Mali, Part 1

I could write a book on this. There is so much to tell and, in fact, are books written on this, but let me try to give you a birds eye view of what we experienced and learned starting with some background from wikipedia: “The Dogon are an ethnic group located mainly in the districts of Bandiagara and Douentza in Mali, West Africa. This area is composed of three distinct topographical regions: the plain, the cliffs, and the plateau. Within these regions the Dogon population of about 300,000 is most heavily concentrated along a 200-kilometer (125 mile) stretch of escarpment called the Cliffs of Bandiagara. These sandstone cliffs run from southwest to northeast, roughly parallel to the Niger River, and attain heights up to 600 meters (2000 feet). The cliffs provide a spectacular physical setting for Dogon villages built on the sides of the escarpment. There are approximately 700 Dogon villages, most with fewer than 500 inhabitants.” To experience this we traveled for two days (as described somewhat in the last posting) met up with three other PCVs and connected with our Dogon guide Hassimi. Hassimi was a delightful and very intelligent Dogon descendant who had learned English from tourists and spoke very well, giving Zach a much-needed vacation from translation. Hassimi taught us a great deal and yet not enough. I am hungry to learn more. My nephew Adam did a report complete with a Dogon mask when he was in middle school. I can’t wait to show him our pictures and compare notes. Our first day in the cliffs was a busy one. We started on top of the escarpment and visited a delightful village, full of curious children and very busy women. The men were herders. This village gave us insight into village life with adobe houses whose roofs were wonderful solar dyers for gains and produce. We spent time with some children in this village scurrying up and down the roof s and cliffs. This village even had a sliding rock. After leaving this village Hassimi turned us over to his partner Momadou, and we hiked down the escarpment. As we struggled with our downward journey, we were treated to breathtakingly beautiful panoramic scenery and another example of life for women in West Africa. It was market day and women were returning from market with loaded down baskets on heads and babies on their backs. It was in this way they were climbing UP the cliffs. No fitness centers for these women! Zen moment of that day: picture a 4X6 foot bamboo table covered with a beautifully indigo dyed hand woven Dogon cloth, bottles of cold Flag (West African beer, pretty good) and Fanta (The most refreshing drink when had after a long hot West African day), Jimmy Buffett music on the I pod and quiet conversation with 4 delightful PCVs (more on them later) about life and fun times. All four of our fellow travelers were in their 20’s and listening to them talk made me realize how much living they have done already in their young lives. I have no doubt that they will experience much, much more in their lives than the average American. Slept in our screen tent under the brilliant African stars!

Journal of a PCV Parent cont. Traveling to Mali

Traveling to Mali the day before Halloween

Journal entry: Friday 10/30/09

“Greatest accomplishment of the trip so far…totally mastered the pit latrine! Yeah for me! We said hurried goodbyes, as the bus was early. Asseta cried as we exchanged big hugs again. I want to communicate with her. I will send her the pictures from the day and translate my letter into French so that Samba can interpret. As we boarded the bus Asseta kept handing us baguettes of bread. We had more than we could handle so we started passing them out to people on the bus. We got part way down the island and the driver wanted more money for our bags. Zach stood up and turned to the other passengers on the bus and told them what we had paid and that the driver was asking for more. They all started arguing with the driver on our behalf. We had friends and we had support and the driver backed down. Next we rented a sept place (7 seat Peugeot) and rented an extra seat so that there were only the three of us in the middle seat. We traveled 9:30 to 7:30 at night with only one chance to get out for a break down issue. (Have I mentioned the bush mechanics? They are amazing and can fix anything, anywhere!) It was hot, the driver was bad, and the car had a wobble. The widows were open and the Sahara desert was in my face, mouth and eyes all day. I felt sick to my stomach and on the verge of tears, ready to cry and I didn’t know why. A combination of the emotions of the day with Zach’s Mauritanian friends and family and just plain physical discomfort (Little did I know that this was nowhere near the worst travel experience we would have. Nor was it anywhere near over for this day.) Back to the moment… sand in my face, a scarf tied over my hair and face, no bread (why did we give it all away?) no real food and did I mention the heat, the fumes, and the bad driver???? I couldn’t talk to either Zach or Dave because I would start crying. We were at a stop and Zach was getting water. I hadn’t yet gotten comfortable with bush peeing so still no relief! I finally started to cry and some young girls came over to the car, looked in and pointed and called me a toubab (white person) something snapped and I said, “No, I am not a toubab, I am Susan!” She repeated my name and I asked her hers. She brought friends over and pointed to me and called me Susan. I felt so good because she was learning I was more than my color, I was Susan. Something very healthy about being on this side of racism for both of us. As we drove away, we were waving to one another. A bond and an understanding had been made and the trip seemed better, but was not over with yet…! We switched to a taxi (remember previous description- rust, jumpstart, fractured windows, no interior upholstery, one to two lug nuts per tire. We stopped at the visa station where the Gendarme said something to me and I replied in my best Pulaar with Jam Ten. Everyone laughed and explained that he was talking in French to me! On to the next taxi and a second check point where I finally got to use a latrine. Then on into Keyes with one tire change and several more passport checks. We finally arrived at a small hotel with a real toilet and a shower and I became human again. This was a wall I hit today (but not the only one I would hit). Even writing about it makes me want to cry again for no particular reason, but for everything. The heat, poverty, sand in my face, can kids, the children, it just all became too much for me even with the minor triumph of the pit latrine mastery in the morning. I became angry with myself that I was struggling when I watched the Senegalese cope with so much more with incredible grace. Most of all I felt I was letting Zach down. A word about Zach: He is very aware that we are traveling outside of our comfort zone and he is very good at adjusting our schedule and activities to help us feel more comfortable, but he can’t do it all and we have to adjust ourselves. At first what Zach considered a “sweet” hotel was not exactly Hampton Inn, but when Zach finds us a hotel with a fan or, even better, sub par but working AC, with a sit down toilet and a shower it felt like a 5 star hotel. I am beginning to develop PCV insight. I think streetlights and the one and only traffic light we have seen outside of Dakar are a miracle! This is good for all of us but I can’t believe how sensitive, thoughtful and considerate Zach is as he guides us through this trip. He is everything to us, our guide, our interpreter, our negotiator, our money manager, our caregiver and our PCV son! We hope that our total dependency on him is not too much for him to bear and we are currently holed up in our room, so that Zach can have some breathing time without us and with other PCVs. This trip is only possible because of the kind of person he is and I love him very much as I observe what kind of a young man he has become. I am not surprised as he has always been a great kid!”

End of journal entry. Thanks Zach, for the trip!!! Love Mom