Grateful

The Bati Njol health school is in its final stages of planning, and should kick off in approximately 2-weeks!  If you remember back to a few blog-entries, I was throwing out ideas for the health school.  Now, after a few village meetings and a little planning with my counterpart, it has become a reality.  The school will open in January and will continue until the end of June – 6 months, 5-essential topics, 12-total classes, 42-women.  The thing I am stoked most about is the age-range of women who enrolled; every compound (household) has one representative, ranging from age 18-58.  

Age Range!

The planning started a few months ago, and the women have been very patient with me, but anxiously asking, “When does school start?” THEY ARE EXCITED ABOUT LEARNING!  And that is what makes me smile from ear to ear; the women are keeping ME in check.  I have not had to beg for the women to come to the planning meetings, they want to come!

community analysis
"what do we already know, what do we want to learn"

My co-workers and I were planning to cover the health clinic in Bati Njol (my village) with murals of the different topics this month, but due to administration, we will have to push them back a few months.  The topics include:

1.  Personal hygiene, basic first-aid, preventing illnesses 
2. Nutrition 
3. Environmental Sanitation 
4. Reproductive & Child Health (2-months long)
5. Malaria

Each month, we will take one of these topics and fully cover it, take questions, do demonstrations, give out homework and test the women.  This is their time to ask anything they’ve been curious about and haven’t had the access to answers.  My counterpart, the community health nurse & my friend, Demba Secka, will be teaching all the lessons.  My role is behind the scenes, helping to plan the lessons to make them effective & interactive, finances, and making sure everything flows smoothly.

meeting with the women to discuss topics!

This project will define my Peace Corps experience.  It’s what I thought I would be doing in West Africa; I am grateful and in awe of the way things have played out.  I have the support of my co-workers, friends & family back home, Peace Corps administration, my village and counterpart. 

Of course there will be hiccups in the process – cancelled classes due to naming ceremonies and weddings, rainy days, etc. but that is where the excitement lies.  If this whole thing went as smoothly as planned, to be honest, I’d be a little freaked out.  Recently I’ve had everything tossed up in the air, and yes it has been challenging mentally and physically, but it’s been a change of pace and has reminded me to slow down.

The opening ceremony will be at the end of this month, after Christmas (not that it is celebrated here), before the new year.  The women decided they wanted to have a small village program, cook benechin (local Wolof dish), drink attaya (Chinese green tea), laugh and celebrate the beginning of a beautiful opportunity to learn and grow together.  Classes begin the first week in January, Inshallah (God-willing).  I will make sure to post another blog letting you all know how the first month went!  I will also be blogging about Geoff’s visit; he is coming February 3rd.  We will spend 2-days on the beach in a tree-house, 2-weeks in village, a week-and-a-half hiking in Guinea’s “grand canyon”, and one full month in each other’s arms, under the stars.  I am again… grateful of such adventure, love, and compassion in the one that I love. 

Chat with you all soon soon.

Ode to the Universe

Let me start by saying that I miss you all very much – can you believe it’s almost been a year?  A YEAR IN AFRICA.  You better believe I will be saying that (with immense pride) for at least… two full months when I get back, haha.  Almost half of my service is completed, and I still have half of a tour left here in The Gambia. 

GREETINGS from the smiling coast!

I thought I couldn't do a handstand these days, so I tried one.

A lot has been happening lately, but I wanted to write a little blog about something that just happened that will probably be affecting the next few weeks of service.  I will write another one soon about HOW AMAZING THE PLANNING HAS BEEN GOING FOR THE HEALTH SCHOOL IN MY VILLAGE, but try and bear with me for just short story about a recent event.  It’s funny and inspirational, I promise.

I’ve been in town these past few days, soaking up the energy from my friends, nutrient dense food, the sun and just being lazy…it’s been AWESOME!  There is one, small obstacle – involving crutches, ace bandages & lots of ibuprofen.  Let me tell you how funny it is, how it happened and all. 

I had just finished playing some ultimate Frisbee and celebrating a very late, Thanksgiving lunch with all of my coworkers.  Afterwards, we decide to go to the beach and take a beautiful, scenic route that peered over 30 ft. of cliffs and facing home…west.  I climbed down the cliffs with my friends to get a closer feel of the oceans beauty and catch the sunset.  The ocean CALLED me to come join it in celebrating another day of happiness and peace.  So, I anxiously pulled off as many clothing layers as I could to still be appropriate and flew off towards the waves like a 5-year old.  Running, Running, Running…. One foot in the ocean, two strides more… big smile on my face. 

ALL OF A SUDDEN my legs crumbled beneath me and I was being (p)owned by the ocean.  I was flopping around like a fish out of water, except I was very much in the water for a solid 5-seconds and fully submerged.  As I caught myself, I sat up gasping for air and feeling a HORRIBLE throb in my left cankle. 

You guessed it.

I completely ate shit, stepped in a hole hidden beneath the water.  Friends were calling from the shore “SHAWN, are you okay?!”  I was embarrassed, so of course I was like “YEAH I’M FINE”!  After 5 more minutes of rolling around in the waves, trying to figure out what the hell just happened, I slowly make my way to shore… up the steps… down a path… and walk about a quarter mile. All of this was done in denial that anything was wrong with my foot. “It was just another sprain that I could walk off” (me).  I get back to the house, drink a bottle of wine, ankle throbbing (still in denial that anything is wrong), and I pass out, happy and buzzed.  I woke up the next morning to the most annoying, excruciating pain I’ve felt in a while.  So I called up the medical unit (after squirting a few tears out of my eyes), they picked me up, I spent a day there giving my ankle some TLC, get some X-rays.  NOT BROKEN, awesome.  Then they say “well, technically, tearing ligaments takes longer than broken bones to heal”.  Here are a few things that crossed my mind at that moment in time.  Sorry for the language, in advance. 

[[ Fuck.  I am in a sandy ass country, where most roads have rocks, potholes, and are oh yeah… not paved.  Transport here sucks.  My whole village is a sand trap.  Crutches?  5 WEEKS, WHAT?!  What about fetching water?  What about going to the garden?  What about squatting over my pit latrine?  SHIT!  Does that mean I can’t go on that hiking trip to Senegal?  MAN, I was supposed to hold a meeting in village in 2-days... gotta cancel that one, I guess.  WHAT ABOUT WHEN GEOFF COMES in 2-months?  Can we still go to Guinea for hiking?  But really… how am I going to squat over my pit latrine?  ]]

So, I guess I am writing this blog because I realized ONCE AGAIN how vulnerable our bodies are.  I have been cursing under my breath for the past few days, hobbling around on crutches in The Gambia, where barely anything is paved, there are no traffic lights or pedestrian right-of-way.  A gimp ankle (NOT a huge injury in The States, really) is COMPLETELY debilitating to village life.  For a month and a half, I will not be able to farm with my family, greet the village, go farming, fetch water, properly squat over my pit latrine (you are probably beginning to see how I rate things of importance in my service here as a Peace Corps volunteer, haha), do any sort of household chores, exercise, go explore the bush.  Let’s just say, it (originally) put a damper on my spirit and my effectiveness as a mobile volunteer.

HOWEVER, another lesson I’ve learned from this is just to slowwwwww down.  I mean I have really been on over-drive these days:  projects, social life and holidays, planning for a trip here or a trip there, preparing for visitors, harvesting crops with the family, etc.  I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again; The Gambians have a saying here… “slowly, slowly”.  I’ve been pushing myself lately, and the universe was the first to take action against my headstrong mind/body working in over-drive.  It said “NO MORE!  Take a break, sister.”  And so I did/am/will. 

At first I was mad…then sad.  But, then I had some amazing support from friends and co-workers here who made me see all the positive things that came out of this happening.  It was a good reminder to SLOW THE HELL DOWN, enjoy this experience, don’t stress out, take some time to reflect and relax. 

So, thank you universe.  You always know what is best for me.  Why did I ever doubt your brilliant plan?

Age is just a #

Salaamaleekum!

Greetings for The Gambia, as always I hope this blog finds all of you in good health and high spirits.  This is just a short blurb about one-of-the-many things that have been running through my mind lately.

What I'm starting to see is the significance (or not) of age.  I am experiencing a new perspective on this thing that we seem to be bound by in the Western world.  I say this because I've known many people that get trapped in their age-mindset.  For example, I know someone who just turned 27-years, and he feels like he is "too old" to really do what he wants to do in life (i.e. travel) because it's "too late".  SAY WHAT!?  27.. that's nuts.  There are 65-year old women serving with me here in the Gambia as Peace Corps Volunteers, roughing it and simply living - what a badass.

My host mother, who is guessing to be around 62-years of age, is one of the hardest working women I know.  I say this because she has had over 5-children, most of which are older than me; she is a grandmother to many and treats them as if they are her own.  She goes to the farm and works alongside her children for hours at a time, sometimes all day.  When she comes home, she tends to the one of her many, many gardens.  During the rainy season, she helps with all of the farming and if she's feeling up to it, she'll walk over 5-miles to deliver the foodbowl to the rest of the family.

When I think of 60-year olds+ in America, most (NOT ALL) I would think are retired, dependent on one if not many medications, and pretty sedentary.. excuse me if my perception has been skewed. 

Anyhow, what I'm getting at is when you stop focusing on "how old you are getting" and you just live, NOW because you still can, you begin to see that age is just a number...  Sometimes, I feel like I'm 5-years old - hula hooping, playing in the dirt, laughing, care-free and blowing in the wind.  Sometimes I feel about 70-years old - full of contemplation, insight, wisdom and settled in the ways of the world.  Sometimes I feel 23-years old, full of creative energy, adventure, passionate and spontaneous. 

What I'm getting at and what I'm coming to see is if you get "trapped" by a number given to you, you are likely to prevent yourself from living to the fullest, in every single moment; we are here, now.  It's easy to fulfill a role that is given to you (or perceived to be), but that's just it - IT'S EASY.  Well, I could go on repeating my thoughts, writing the same conclusions in a thousand different way, but I think you all get what I'm trying to say.  If you want to be 5-years old for a day, do it - go rub some paint on the walls and buy a spongebob popsicle.  If you want to be 80-years old, spend the day looking through photo albums, reading philosophy books and thinking about the "good ole days".

Never get stuck in the past or in the future - be here, now.  Never get "stuck" in what everyone else your age is or isn't doing... just live!