I'll be home for Christmas

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Written on 12/19/2015

(2 DAYS LEFT!)

As anyone who has been following me on social media knows already knows the news - I am going home for Christmas. I've been counting down the days since my Dad bought the tickets six months ago in July. The day I am reunited with my family for the holidays is almost here and I couldn't be more excited to spend time with the people I love.

I want to be clear. I love Madagascar and I love my work here, but being away from my family in this difficult year has been the most challenging thing I've experienced in my life. It was heartbreaking not being there when there was bad news, and still, painful if the news was good and I couldn't be there to give a celebratory hug.

The honest truth is that at some point during Peace Corps service you realize that the world in the eyes of the people you love is changing - evolving - without you and it hurts a little when you feel like its impossible for you to be a part of these changes, and sometimes you don't realize things are changing until everything is completely different. 

It's easy to say you're okay, and that everything is going fine, and hearing that other people are is always comforting. Even from half the world away you know its not all rainbows and unicorns in the states...or here. But, knowing that I will be able to see my family thriving in their "fine-ness" has been keeping me going. Times are tough, but me, my family - we are tougher - and I can't wait to be " just fine" with them in a few short days.

I am so incredibly thankful. I'll be home for Christmas...and I won't even be dreaming.

The Orchid Thief by Susan Orlean

The Orchid Theif by Susan Orlean

Written 12/17/12015

I first heard about The Orchid Theif by Susan Orlean when I was taking a literary non-fiction class in college. We all were told to research a literally non-fiction writer - or maybe read a non-fiction book. I don't really remember. But, I do remember the young woman who had read the book say something like "It's really well written. Its funny - she talks about the weird obsessions of people and that gets obsessed in the concept of the story herself."

And I thought to myself, "...hmm...orchids are pretty. Weird people. Obsession. Sounds like my kind of book. "

And after having it in my sights to read for the last 2 years, I finally read it. And I was right. It is my kind of book. And she was also right, this book is less about orchids and thiefdom and more about the purpose of being completely and utterly obsessed with something - or more kindly put, "having a passion."

The Orchid Thief is about John Laroche's obsession with - you guessed it - orchids. Orlean first started following Laroche after she read a short article stating that Laroche and three Seminole Native Americans from Florida had been arrested for taking orchids and other plants from a park - which is against the law if you didn't know. BUT, because Native American's also have the right to take things from the forests. So, there's the pickle that intrigued Orlean.

So, she submerses herself in Laroche's flowery obsessions. She soaks in to the orchid, fern, swamp, tree, and flower world and the maniacs that surround it.

Turns out though, orchids are actually really interesting. They aren't just beautiful. They can actually be really ugly. But they have more to them then just their appearance. They are extremely adaptable and have flourished in their self-created little universes all over the world. Orchids are also "tougher than you expect", said Orlean, "they look as fragile as glass but aren't."

And lastly, they can be found in Madagascar...where all amazing things can be found...

ANYWAYS, Laroche and the people in the orchid collector crowd are absolutely "passionate" (cough cough...obsessed) about orchids and plants. They create rare hybrids and spend thousands of dollars on just one new plant. And in observing this wild obsession, and getting a little pulled into the fanatics - Orlean realizes something,

"The reason it matters to care passionately about something is that it whittles the world down to a more manageable size. It makes the world seem not huge and empty but full of possibility."

Isn't that the truth. So now I am on the search for something to be passionately obsessed with! Maybe its reading. Maybe its development work. But I think finding a passion and following it really is a beautiful part of growing up and becoming you you really are - at whatever age that is.

As John Laroche said, "Its not really about collecting the thing itself. Its about getting immersed in something, and learning about it, and having it become part of your life. Its a kind of direction."

Go whoever is reading this...go find your direction, your obsession, your passion!!

Teacher Training - My First Project!

Teacher Training - My First Project

Written on 12/3/2015

As a Second-Year Peace Corps Volunteer, sometimes its hard to take time to reflect - which is true but also an excuse for the reason I haven't been blogging a lot lately..

Over the past few months, among other things, I have been planning a teaching training. I thought a teacher training would be a great way to create a sustainable change in my community and unite teachers in my district to improve their English teaching skills.

So...that's where it all started. And then came about a month of drafting up a grant, another month of it getting checked over, about a month of revising it...and finally...it was posted on the inter-webs. I was overjoyed by the response from my friends and family when, in just under a month, I received the funds and started planning my teacher training.

Then the real planning began. I started with the thing that would take the longest - getting t-shirts printed. I designed the shirts, brought the design up to the big city - and the teacher training was on its way to reality. The most alluring part of the shirts - in big letters on the back it said " I <3 Teaching English"

(Although T-Shirts aren't always accepted in a Grant proposal as a necessary thing, the sense of unity the teachers had after the training was wonderful - and the matching t-shirts only increased the sense of pride and unity for being an English teacher.)

Printing the t-shirts sounds like an easy task - but alas - it was not without its challenges. First, I can't get t-shirts printed in a big city, so I must go to the city 7 hours north to put in the order and pay the advance for the t-shirts. All was going well, until they asked me to pay the advance and I realized I didn't have the money with me. No problem, they said, you can stop by tomorrow. So the next morning I get up and go to the bank. Oddly enough, the bank doesn't allow me to withdraw any money from my Peace Corps account and is showing me that I don't have access to my account. 

Thankfully, Charlotte helped me conquer that hurdle and fronted me the money until the banks settled down and I could get money from my account to pay her back. 

And then I waited a few weeks for their call saying the shirts were finished. It was finally time to go up and get them, so I decided to just give them a call. As soon as the woman picked up and realized it was me she said, "We tried to call you, we didn't have enough blue fabric. We have to change the color of the shirt. They aren't done yet."

SOOOOOOO the shirts were changed from yellow to blue and promised to be done the week after on Friday. A week goes by, and I all again before I leave to go up north. "The shirts will be done. We promise."

LIES! I show up on Friday evening and they say, tomorrow morning! I was planning on making my way back to Mahanoro the following morning, so the shirts had to be done by 9 o'clock at the latest. "No problem," They said, "The shirts will be done! We just need to iron them."

The next morning I arrive at opening time. The woman smiles and says I should return at nine and pick up the shirts, they still have a few left to iron. Fine. So I go around town and get breakfast and take my time packing my things. I check out of my hotel room, take everything with me to go pick up the shirts....

When I arrive, the woman can barely look at me. "They aren't finished yet...." She says shyly.

I smile, and say, "Okay. I'll call my bus. Maybe they can wait. It won't take too much longer, right?"

"No. Thirty minutes. We just have to iron them."

......2 hours and a missed bus later my t-shirts were done.

So I took my things and my tshirts and went back to my hotel. I entered and the front desk people were confused..."Didn't you leave?"

"I didn't catch my bus."

"There isn't any more today?" Honest concern on their faces.

"Nope. That was the last one. Can I have my room back?"

*Smiles* "Yes, of course."

So basically, I ended up wearing a freshly printed t-shirt while washing the one pair of clothes I had brought with me in the sink and spent the day in my hotel room watching Ellen videos on Youtube. But...I got my t-shirts. And to be fair, the woman was extremely apologetic and very sorry that I had missed my bus. And I got a pizza for dinner. All was still well in the world. On to the step number two....

Which was drafting an invitation - which I couldn't have done without the help of a Malagasy counterpart, and sending them out to the different villages. This was a task all in its own.

I had asked my CISCO (like the Education Department of the District/County) for a list of all the English teachers in the district and where they taught so we could send out the invitations to the right people. Unfortunately, the list they gave was old, and many teachers that teach English were not on the list or there were teachers listed that no longer worked in the district.

So hurdle number one - what do we do with this ancient list? We decided we would invite all the English Teachers in the town of Mahanoro (public and private) and then one teacher from each school in the country side on the list.

The next problem? How do we send an invitation to a city 6 miles down the canal. Well, with a lot of trust and hope, we decided the invitations would travel by foot, bus, truck, and boat.

First, I headed to the Port for the canal and asked if the drivers would help me spread the invitations. I sat with the pile of invites in my hand, and with the drivers and driver's helpers around me, I called out the different names of the cities - and one by one the took a invitation with the name of the school on it.

Next, I went to the bus station and asked the nice woman I usually go to if I need to go somewhere who I should talk to for the different cities I had in hand. I was told only Driver Sammy goes to these towns on his big fruit truck, and he lives close to the dentist. So off I went to the dentist, asked a little girl where Driver Sam lived, and asked his wife (he was sleeping as he leaves at 3 AM to go to the countryside) if she thought he could deliver the invitations. She happily agreed and they invitations were on their way.

The next day, I traveled to the different schools around Mahanoro and asked their director if their school would like to participate in the training and how may English Teachers they had with my lovely counterpart, Madame Vola. (and got extremely sun burnt).

Then, that afternoon, Driver Sammy's helper came to my house to tell me that a few of the towns were not on the road he takes, and that I should go to the bus station tomorrow morning at 7 and there are a few small trucks that go out that way. So the next morning, off I went..and all but 3 invitations were sent out.

Mind you - all of these people helped me out free of charge, without question. I asked them for assistance and they happily obliged. Honestly, Malagasy people are so kind.

The next hurdle, EVERYONE wanted to come to the training. Teachers who were teaching a different subject but had taught English in the past. People who were hoping to teach English someday. All 5 English teachers from a school in the countryside even though only one invite was sent. I let them all come, and fortunately, on the day of the training, we had enough room to sit them all down.

The training was three days long, and included subjects like - student-centered learning, learning styles, introducing fun activities in class, blackboard management, increasing participation, and last but not least, lesson planning.

Everyday, we ate a wonderfully delicious lunch out on the beach. Originally, we were going to have it at a restaurant by the market, but then were afraid there space wouldn't be big enough. We searched for a solution, first asking the Church across the street if we could use one of their rooms - no they had a group of visiting Fathers coming.

And then my sitemate remembered she had been at a wedding that used wood shelters on the beach. So with the restaurant owner in tow, we headed out that way and asked the owner if we could use the shelter. She agreed - but asked that we find someone to clean up the space before we use it. Again, no questions, no fee, completely free of cost.

It was so lovely, and refreshingly cool. It was a nice place to stretch our legs after long sessions and take in some fresh ocean air before starting back at training again.

The last day of the training, all of the things we had learned were put to the test and we asked the teachers to meet in small groups and create a lesson plan. Seeing the teachers work together and create participatory, fun, and well thought out lesson plans was a wonderful way to end the training.

Lastly, we handed out curriculum guides for each school - which show examples of dialogues and exercises for each lesson in the curriculum -, certificates, and the amazing t-shirts. And me, my site mate Charlotte, and my wonderful PCV friend Gabby were given a surprise gift of a Betsimisaraka (the region I live in) style hat and a small hand-woven bag.

But no gifts were needed. It was great to see the teachers learn something, and more importantly come together to improve their teaching and therefore improve the chance at opportunities for their students. We handed out a survey at the beginning and end of the training to test improvement (the topics covered were mentioned and the teachers wrote how well the understood the topic - 1 being don't understand at all and 5 being understand completely. In the beginning of the training, the average level of understanding for the teachers for all topics was a 2 - somewhat understand. By the end - a 4 - understand well!

It took me a few days to relax before I really realized what I had accomplished. Here I am, a recent college graduate at age 22, with one year living in Madagascar, with never have written a Grant or organized an event of this proportion - organizing and conducting a teacher training for 50 teachers in my district. If that's not an accomplishment, than I don't know what is!

Obviously, I didn't do this on my own. I would've been extremely stressed and lost without the help of my sitemate, who is an amazing volunteer and has quite a few achievements under her belt. With out my wonderful counterparts - who helped me translate things to Malagasy that was understandable (writing Malagasy and speaking Malagasy are two completely different animals), without the community involvement, be it boat drivers or school administration, or the CISCO (although the list was out-dated it was still helpful in the end), and of course, without all the people at home who donated a little or a lot to help me make it all happen in the end.

Honestly, although planning, organizing, and leading the training had its ups and downs - and at some points I was so stressed I questioned if it was even worth doing - I am so happy for the results. Hopefully the teachers are excited for another year of teaching, and will be better teachers for their students. And in the end - that was my whole purpose of doing a teacher training to begin with.

AND to make things even greater - the teachers gathered in the end to create and English Teachers Association for the District of Mahanoro and they will meet each trimester to discuss difficulties and find solutions.

So I created a small amount of sustainable change in my community and for that I am extremely proud of myself!

The Weight of All Things Review

The Weight of All Things by Sandra Benitez Review

Written on 12/6/2015

The Weight of All Things is a historically influenced account of the Revolutionary War in El Salvador during the 1980's. As like many revolutions, it was the rebels against the government ruthlessly trying to take each other down and rule over the land.

The purpose behind Beneitez's writing can be summed up in one paragraph from the book:

"Caught in the perilous between were the people. Dying in the crossfire of weapons and ideologies. Agonizing over loved ones lain and tortured. Weeping over destroyed homes and ravaged possessions. Cornered in a flood of menace and fear, there was nothing left for them to do but flee."

The story is written from the point of view of nine-year-old Nicolas Veras - one of the many children caught in the mess of destruction. We meet Nicolas just before his mother is among the dead in a massacre at the funeral of a previously assassinated Archbishop. The boy - too young to understand what's really going on but old enough to know its not good.

Nicolas makes his way back to his village, and finds himself in the land of the rebels. They took over his grandfather's land and he is taken in to help them along their way. He builds friendships with the rebels, becomes close to them, and in a blink of an eye they are on the run again and he and his grandfather are left in their dust.

Just days after, Nicolas is discovered by the Government's army, and taken in for his knowledge of the rebels. Again, his heart becomes accustom to the ways of the government people, and again he makes friends amongst the different ranks of soldiers.

Just as many young ones in time of war, a fragile heart could be so easily swayed for the comfort of a little less fear. Too young to really take a side, but old enough to be used by both sides.

Of course, someone who works for an organization called the Peace Corps is likely to say this, but its stories like these - fictional or not - that make me question the value of war. When, as Benitez puts it, "While the two sides (are fighting) for their principles, most of the dying is done by the people."

Reflections: 1/2 way done?!

Wait, Am I really more than 1/2 way done?

Written on 10/26/2015

I've come to a point in my service where when asked if I miss my family, I almost break down in tears, and when asked if I'll miss Mahanoro, I can barely contain the fact that I know I will miss it just as much. Being here is difficult, and leaving is just as heartbreaking.

The difficult part about being a Peace Corps Volunteer is that you integrate yourself into a community, the people around you become your support system and your second family. They know more about you on a basic level then you could've ever imagined. And when you feel like you actually belong in the place you didn't even choose to go, it's time to go home.

I've struggled through learning a second language that, once I leave, I may never use again. I've shared really difficult parts of my life with my counterpart and once I leave, I may never receive her comforting hug again.

People keep telling me I can't forget them, and no matter how often I repeat that there is no way I ever could, the more heartbreaking it is that I'm not sure they believe me! To be honest, I think it breaks my heart even more to think that they might forget me.

But, because my time here is not yet over - I've still got 10 months left - I know I have to keep my sadness about leaving in the back of my mind and use those 10 months the best I can. I want to make my last year of service count. I know that any event I hold or training I do will not make an immediate, life-changing impact, but my community - who has become like a strange second-family - deserves the opportunity for personal growth.

And that's what makes the struggle of being a Peace Corps Volunteer 1000% worth it. Although integrating into a community you know you will eventually leave is difficult, The connection you feel to the people around you and the opportunity you have to provide small, sustainable changes to - hopefully - build capacity and personal growth - is extremely rewarding.

A year ago, I would be questioning my ability to make any impact at all. And now, I realize more and more everyday that I may not be making any grand change, but I am making an impact, a small impact - but it's something. My community is not any different from when I arrived, but small gradual changes are occurring, and maybe I won't see a change at the end of these 10 months. Maybe it will take 10 years for all those small changes to add up to something.

One thing I do know, my time with Peace Corps may have not impacted my community in any drastic way - but it certainly has impacted me in ways words just can't explain.

The Rat: A PCV Poem

I have a rat: a PCV Poem.

Written on 10/26/2015

I have a rat.

It likes eating tomatoes, green beans, and bananas.

It doesn't like cucumbers, but always nibbles just in case.

Keeps tasting my soap, or maybe it's just cleaning its face.

It is a gymnast, thought the air it flies.

Balacing on strings to get to the food I hide.

Extorting its body to fit into the smallest tunnels of space.

Knocking over bottles, leaving a mess all over the place.

I've only seen it twice,

but I know it's here always.

It leaves evidence of it's existance for me to clean up every morning.

It turns my kitchen into its personal toilet whle I'm snoring.

I've thought about poison.

Or even a trap.

But I've made the final decision.

I'm getting a cat. 

10/31/2015 

Update: I bought poison.

 It worked. 

But I'm still getting a cat. 

Operation Smile: Pulling Teeth

9/7/2015

Today was one of those days where, I look back at the events that occurred and I think to myself, did that really just happen?

It actually started on Sunday, when a mother of a child who had been accepted to get surgery came up to me and said she wasn't feeling well. She was exhausted, didn't have an appetite, and her body hurt - but mainly her head and her teeth. The mom and daughter, along with two children, were staying with a family friend in an outlying neighborhood of Tamatave, and had to walk back. I asked if she would rather stay at the patient shelter, and she said then her two sons wouldn't have care. She was worried about her ability to take care of all her children. So we arranged to have her, her youngest child who was getting cleft lip surgery and her two older brothers to stay at the patient shelter.

The same night she came to us saying her teeth really hurt and asked for medicine. We were waiting from an OK from the doctors, but when a response wouldn't come we have her some Tylenol. Later, the doctors said that was a good choice and this women should come see the dentist tomorrow.

After waiting for the car to take her to the hospital for a few hours, I went to get her from her room and found her in tears, she was in so much pain. I said we were going to the hospital and that, hopefully, we can see the dentist soon and she won't hurt so much anymore.

We arrived at the hospital, the woman, her little daughter, another volunteer (Gabe) and I, and the dentist was especially busy but said she would see her as soon as she could. This must've felt like forever for the woman, but luckily a operation smile volunteer gave the little girl bubbles, so passed time a little quicker. (How couldn't it? Bubbles are great!) 

I went in to the OR with the woman as Gabe watched her child, making sure she wasn't worried and that she was fed lunch. The dentist  said her teeth needed to be pulled - maybe all of them - but that wouldn't be possible to do in one visit. So the decision was made (and agreed upon by the woman) to pull the teeth. I, now the agreed upon translator for this woman, stood/kneeled by her side as the doctor pulled 10 teeth from her mouth,ncluding a rotten wisdom tooth and the draining of a infected abscess. At one point I was supporting her head with my hands, as the dental chair was...less than ideal. I, needless to say, I was quite proud of my ability to not pass out or vomit everywhere. In fact, I wasn't really queasy at all! The woman's entire appearance seemed to get lighter after the pain medicine started kicking in, as if a large weight had been lifted off her shoulders (or her molars...) 

And, similarly, I felt a release of tension, as this woman now didn't seem to have as much stress about taking care of her child after surgery because she was hopefully of being healthy herself soon, and I felt like I was a little bit of a part of that. And you know, that's a good feeling to have.

Written 9/20/2015

The next day, her daughter got cleft palate surgery. When she was in post-op, another volunteer, Gabe, and I were the ones translating for the nurses. The little girl was fighting the nurses to not take the medicine. Gabe sat down, she climbed on his lap, and she drank the medicine without a problem. We had her other children come visit and it really felt like they had accepted us to being a small part of their family. At one point, the other patients parents had joked that we are now part of their luggage they must take back home.

I am hopeful that both the mom and daughter are recovering well and I am very thankful for all of Operation Smile’s help in making their lives a little less painful, a little healthier, and overall, a little better. 

Operation Smile

Operation Smile 

Written 9/20/2015

A few weeks ago, I was working with 7 other volunteers and Operation Smile. Operation Smile is an organization that gives no-cost cleft palate and lip surgeries to people in developing countries. They have been coming to Madagascar for about 12 years, and they are now building a Medical Center in a big city in Madagascar to serve the country on a more regular basis.

In the past, I had helped Charlotte - my site mate - while she searched for Operation Smile patients. She would go into the country side around our town and spread the word that Operation Smile was coming and that children and adults with cleft lip and/or cleft palate could be eligible for a no-cost surgery.

I saw the patients before they left, and saw them come back with a new confidence, sometimes even visibly healthier looking, as they spent the week eating healthy, meat-filled meals at the patient shelter.

So, when the call came that I could volunteer with Operation Smile, I new I wanted to participate in the mission. And I am so glad that I did!

The main task of the Peace Corps Volunteers who came to help was to coordinate the patient shelter and make sure the patients were being fed well, had beds, and were overall staying healthy before surgery. We got to know the patients, and after a few hiccups, things were running smoothly.

The secondary task was translating. We translated throughout the screening process and for the nurses in post-op. I new my Malagasy language skills had improved, but I had no idea how much so! Some translating was difficult, not in the sense that the words were hard, but the content was heartbreaking. 

A mother brought her child that had gotten cleft lip surgery in the past and had brought him back to get cleft palate surgery. Her son was born def, and being 11 years old, the Op Smile staff knew that fixing his palate would be extremely painful with very little benefit. He would never be able to speak well without intensive speech therapy because he wasn’t able to hear the sounds he was making. 

I, with the help of Malagasy translators, had to apologize for the miscommunication that led this woman to think her son was certainly getting surgery and explain to her why surgery wasn’t worth it. She was visibly distressed and expressed that she just hoped her son would be able to say, “Mama” or “Papa” one day. So we brought the speech therapist in and helped him take the steps towards saying this words. It was a really special moment!

Next, we had to send the woman home. Operation Smile provides reimbursement for the trip to and from the operation site. At some point in the process, I was given the money to give to her. I handed her the cash and said Operation Smile is helping her get home. She started to say her goodbyes, a final thank you, and final apologies from the Op Smile end and one of the nurses gave her a big hug. Malagasy people do not hug. The woman welcomed the hug, but her body was as stiff as a board. Next, she turned to me and we did the more traditional handshake and three cheek kisses. On the final kiss, I saw the woman’s eyes fill with tears. She said one final thank you and turned away. Although I know her son is healthy, eating well and able to communicate in his own ways, it was difficult to see someone’s hope deflate just a little bit, although she was still thanking God that she had a healthy son.

Over the week, the situations got a bit less dramatic, but never less touching. We translated more simple things, such as “Make sure you child is drinking a lot of water. They will have less pain and feel better if they are drinking a lot of water” or “When did your child go to the bathroom last” Or explaining how and when to give your child medicine. It was simple tasks, but we had formed a connection with the parents. We were they’re voice. When they looked distressed, we were the ones who asked if they needed anything. Although I gave absolutely no medical assistance, I was thanked more than I have ever been thanked in my Peace Corps service because I was the one of the people who understood. It was a really heart warming experience.

That being said, the people who really deserved the praise were the surgeons, nurses, dentists, doctors, and Op Smile staff that took time out of there regular lives to help give these surgeries free of charge. Working with all of them was truly a wonderful experience. Weather it was translating for them, running errands, watching surgery or just hanging out, their dedication to improving lives was obvious. In 5 days, they operated on 118 people. Thats 118 lives changed. 

I am hopeful that I will get to work with Operation Smile again in my next year of service.  Working with them was a wonderful way to end my 1st year in Madagascar and another beautiful way I am making my mother proud :)

A Great Month with CNFM

A Great Month with CNFM

Written on 9/1/2015

My much too short time at CNFM is coming to an end today, for being such a short time, I would never have expected it to be so bittersweet. 

I wouldn't have expected to learn so much about development and policy, and get to know so much more about the women of Madagascar, the women of CNFM, and experience a evolution in my view of development work. And I honestly hope that this experience was just the beginning.

The president of the organization, Noro Ravaozanany is one of the most hardworking and inspiring women I have met. Her passion and commitment for gender equality and the incredible leadership she brings to the table continues to inspire me everyday. Last week, i admitted to her that when I grow up I want to be her. Which she was more surprised by than I expected.

Through her and the other women at CNFM, I learned more about how important policy is in  creating sustainable, institutional change. Where as field work - sensitization and capacity building trainings - is important, creating change in legal framework is just as crucial. I'd like to work with them again and get the chance to look more into policy and development, because I feel I just hit the surface of learning all the information I am certain they have to offer. 

I can also not say enough about the woman who so graciously let us into her home, Mama Zena. As we slowly started learning more and more about what a strong woman she was, working within the government. Being a strong voice for women here in Madagascar. She opened her doors to us and gave us a month of comfortable living, wonderfully full stomachs, and lots of inspiration.

With Mama Zena and Noro's invitation, I also had a wonderful opportunity to attend an international conference for the Indian Ocean area islands, where I observed the editing of a political strategy for sustainable change. The women (and a few men) were determined to make a plan to push for gender equality. Hearing alternate opinions about development was enlightening and refreshing.  Such as viewing gender issues as being a problem for both genders - specifically the idea that domestic violence abusers should go through a rehabilitation process to end the violence, not just for the one women, but for future women. An idea that can be adjusted to fit various gender related issues, but that, being a woman, I can honestly say I hadn't really though of.

Just as importantly, I had the chance to spend some time with some wonderfully empowered young Malagasy women that I hope to keep in contact with indefinitely. These intelligent, determined, and hilarious young women will go far in life and I want to watch it happen. I hope one day to greet them in America and get the opportunity to show them around my own country and reciprocate their wonderful hosting.

As I said to these wonderful women I had the chance to work with, I really hope it's not a goodbye to this wonderful organization, but a see you later! I am so grateful for all that I've learned and I cannot say thank you enough. I felt refueled with an even stronger amount of inspiration and excitement to return to the USA next year and apply for University public policy programs so that I can to continue to do development work in the future.

If you want to see what another Volunteer, Jillian, and I put together over the month, you can check it out (hopefully soon) on CNFM’s website.

Taking the Bus: A New Perspective on Commuting

Taking the Bus: A New Perspective on Commuting

Written on 8/14/2015

Everyday, I wake up around 6. Sometimes I actually get up and work out, sometimes I stay in bed and fight with my snooze button until about 7. I eat breakfast, get my things together and Jillian and I start making our way to the office around 8:45.

This is when the adventures of being in a big city truly come to life. Being volunteers and without cars or enough money to take a taxi to work everyday, we wait for the bus….

Sometimes, waiting can be excruciatingly long, as we deal with the stares, whistles, and  “bonjour cheri” from men nearby. At one point, I got frustrated and told the men they don’t know how to respect people...which led to less that desirable results. Instead of leaving us alone, one man came to apologize, and apologize, and apologize some more until our bus finally arrived. 

But, at the same time, waiting can be a delightful and heartwarming experience. Once, a little boy was adorably asking us questions about our names, ages, and destination and leaping with glee as we responded in Malagasy and asked him about himself. When his bus left, he waved until he was out of view.

Basically, waiting for the bus is not typically a dull experience. 

When the bus finally arrives, it’s usually almost full. As we pack ourselves into a seats, many people are already astonished to see two foreigners on a bus. As soon as we open our mouths and unleash a little malagasy, its usually obvious we are not a typical foreigners. 

Sometimes we just sit and wait patiently for our stop. But, sometimes our seats are in a less-than-convenient place and every stop we have to readjust to let others out, usually leading to some uncomfortable, and sometimes hilarious seating arrangements. 

On one particular ride, my fellow intern, Jillian, was sitting right next to the door so that at every stop she had to get off the bus and then get back into her place before the driver decided it was time to go. This proved trickier than you’d expect. Multiple times people would pile into the bus before her and I would have to explain that the spot was taken. Others, the driver would start to leave when Jillian was not yet sitting, still half way in the bus, or not yet sitting at all. 

The first time this happened I think everyone expected us to get frustrated and attempt to move seats or tell the doorman or driver off. Instead, we kept laughing and making jokes in Malagasy, which made the doorman laugh hysterically. And, I hope, made people see not all foreigners are as stuck up as they think! By the end of the bus, it felt like we were all friends. 

Another ride, we hailed the bus to come pick us up. It stopped and was very, very, VERY full. I asked if there was room for two people and they started pushing us in. I was placed in a seat facing the other passengers with my back to the driver,where I couldn’t sit because my long legs didn’t have room to bend. And Jillian was sitting on the seat next to the door, hanging on for her life because the door man was hanging out of the door space to make more room. Luckily, there were only a few moments of complete horror and fear of falling out of a moving vehicle before more spots were cleared up and we moved to a more secure (and fully seated) position.

If this past two weeks of bus adventures made anything clear, its that the next month of commuting to the office is bound to be full of interesting journeys. 

My Really Cool Summer Internship

My Really Cool Summer Internship

Written on 8/6/2015

This week I started an internship at CNFM (Council of Women in Madagascar https://cnfmadagascar.wordpress.com) in Antananrivo with another volunteer, Jillian. The organization helps create a support network for female-focused NGO’s and Associations in Madagascar and sensitizes groups about women’s issues in Madagascar and how to take small steps to fight against them.

So far, its been an exciting week getting to know the different people in the office and getting started on our project. For all of August, Jillian and I will be writing posts for their blog about the different associations that are under CNFM’s umbrella. We haven’t started talking to anyone..yet..but have scheduled a few interviews and reached out to many different people.

It’s been really exciting to get back into the world of journalism a little bit, I forgot how much I enjoyed the thrill of getting ready for an interview and thinking about different possible angles and topics for stories. It made me really excited to think about free-lancing while I am back in America...or maybe even while I am here? 

One thing, though, that I haven’t been enjoying is the cold cold temperatures in Tana. Its really only around 50 degrees everyday, but coming from living in a place for a year where the coldest it gets is 70 degrees, I haven’t been transitioning well. I know for many of my Wisconsin and Minnesota friends and family, 50 degrees being “cold” sounds like a joke! But I promise you, its different here. There isn’t indoor heating (besides a wonderful fireplace at our host mama’s house). So you are cold ALL DAY.

I’ve officially caught a cold, and my host mama is worried about me. She has had volunteers for CNFM stay with her before. But its been a while since she has had Peace Corps Volunteers. We are a strong group, and we’ve gotten through tougher sickness than a common cold. This cold has nothing on me (I say as I have four layers of sweaters on, two pairs of socks, leggings under my jeans and a hat on).

But really, it should be a really interesting summer and I am excited for the adventures of interviewing to begin. We should have our first interview in just a few minutes! Wish me luck!

Sunrise to Sunset

Sunrise to Sunset

Written on 7/27/2015

*poetic blog post*

Living in a village on the East Coast of Madagascar, I've had the pleasure of seeing the sunrise over the Indian Ocean. It never fails to be a beautiful start to everyday. A promise that every morning is new, and every day has the ability to be beautiful.

Recently, I traveled to the other side of the island and got to see the sun kiss the waters surrounding this island goodnight. As I did, I feel so much more in love with this beautiful big red island knowing that it is hugged by this glorious, ocean-side, paint-like scene of colors every morning and every night.

There is something about the wonderful colors of the sun rising and setting that remind me that life is beautiful if you allow yourself to think it is. Every event in life, weather it be falling in love or heartbreak, a gain or a loss, a precious smile or a lonely cry, can be beautiful if you allow yourself to look into the positives and try to focus on a purpose to it all.

It's true, I've had a hard year. Most definitely the most emotionally testing, heartbreaking, and all-around difficult year so far in my short life. Although it still seems impossible to find meaning in something that still feels simply unfair, there was something about seeing the sunset as I left the west side of the island that reminded me that I have a purpose, that this tragic year has a purpose. 

I am not sure what it is yet, but I am confident that whatever keeps pushing me forward will lead me to something that will make sense of it all. Until then, I'll just keep being amazed by the way the sun paints the sky.

Always Working!

Miasa Foana! Always Working!

Written on 7/27/2015

The school year is offically over and as I walk around my village everyone keeps asking the same thing, "Where are you going for vacation?" 

Having just got back from a short vacation up the coast to Tamtave, a meeting in Antananarivo, and a quick trip to the west side of the island to a costal city called Mahajanga...it is hard to explain that the 'vacation' part of my break from school is already over! When I think about it, I haven't really had a summer off since I was really young, always giong to camps or working. I just love being busy..what can I say?

So for this vacation I have a few things going on. Most notably, I will be working with an organization called the Council of Women in Madagascar (CNFM - Council de Femme Madagaskara). I'll be working in a position similar to an intern, most likely writing newsletters and translating things to English as well as teaching the women (and men) working their English. 

After getting the chance to meet with my summer-time coworkers this past week, I am very excited for the opportunity to work with them. They are a group of strong, motivated, and intellegent women who are working to try to change the situation for women in Madagascar. If you've read some of my previous blogs...or know me at all..., by now you've probably figured out that women's issues are close to my heart! 

Right now, CNFM is working on educating candidates for local governments on Women's issues and what should be done to alleviate some of the hardships women in Madagascar face, as well as encouraging women to vote, and voters to vote for women. All and all, its something I am excited to work on. [And, just to add, the women are as excited as I am for a possible female president in America...Go Hilary!]

I am also going to be (and need to be) studying for the GRE, and working on teaching guides for the English classes at Center of Hope. And starting to put the English Teacher's Training I've been working into motion....

Basicially, when I tell people "miasa foana zaho" (I am always working), although I say it with a laugh, its not a joke! Although these few weeks of vacation and a little bit of relaxation have been wonderful, I'm excited to start something new and get back to being busy!

I'm a little bit nervous to be living in the capital city and have to work with a new group of people, but I think being nervous and doing new things is what keeps life interesting! I guess a part of me is just getting to comfortable in Mahanoro, and I am excited to shake things up a bit in the big city for a month! 

Lean In by Sheryl Sandburg Review

Lean In By Sheryl Sandburg Review

Written on 7/12/2015

I first put this book on my kindle when I was looking for interesting books to read back in the States. One of my friends had read it while we were in college, and found it interesting, so I figured why not figure out what the hype was all about too. Lean In has become one of the books that brought about what I feel is another wave of feminism (which, by the way, the fact that their has been waves or phases to feminism shows how long genders have been inequitable...) I digress. And Sheryl Sandburg is one of the leading ladies of the cyber world, and recently a leader in new feminist conversations. So why not see what her ideas are all about. Why not Lean In to the book, if you will...

I found Sandburg's perspective interesting, her book is less about how the man brings us down! and how we should stick it to the man! but more about what women can do for themselves, inside their own heads and gender group, to improve the current situation for women in the workplace and at home. To fight back against "barriers that exists with in ourselves" causing us to lean back when we should be leaning in.

In a nut shell, how to stop focusing on 'doing it all' and focus more on doing whats most important for you and for your family. How the 'balancing act' between work and family could (and should) be a balancing act between the heads of the house hold, making sure each is able to reach their fullest potential at work, and at home. It's about not being afraid to have a family AND reach for the stars in your career.

Some specific ideas that I found interesting were:

Stop making compromises on your professional life before a partner and children even exist. When you start a relationship, start it on an equal playing field so that you have a balanced relationship from the beginning. It's easier to maintain a balanced relationship than change an unbalanced one. When you start thinking of having children, no that from the moment you get pregnant until conception, you have (hopefully) 9 (healthy) months to plan.

Opportunities are rarely offered. They are seized. Asking for a promotion or a raise increases your chances of getting a promotion or a raise. Don't be afraid to say you know that we (women) are often paid less, and because you do as much (or more) work than your male counterparts, you want to make sure your rank and your paycheck reflect that.

Think personally, act communally. Studies show that women in leadership positions aren't as well perceived by their peers because socially, women are seen as more communal beings. When they are perceived as thinking more about themselves, its seen much more negatively than a man. So, its important to act communally as a woman. Use "We" instead of "I", "Us" instead of "me." For example: "We should get that done now so it's less work for us later" is seen much more positively than "I need to work hard now so I have less work later..."

Careers are a jungle gym, not a ladder. In today's world, where job security feels like a thing of the past, working at the same company for years trying to get to the top may not work. Jumping around from different positions, taking lower positions in fields/a company with a high growth rate (think Sandburg starting at Facebook before it was something everyone stared at all day long).

I did, however, have one problem with this book. Aside from a short blerb in the beginning, Sandburg rarely acknowledged her own privilege. Throughout the book, it would've been nice to see this position of privilege checked and acknowledged in anecdotes and data. Does her advice change if you don't have those same privileges? I'm not sure. It something that I feel would have been interesting, and worthwhile, for Sandburg to explore.

Year One of Teaching: CHECK!

Year One of Teaching: CHECK!

Written on 6/28/2015

Last week Tuesday I taught my last classes of the year! It was a sense of great accomplishment to have some students understand what I was saying in English without me having to translate. But more than anything, It was a great accomplishment to know that I stuck around and taught them when things got tough, and I know that they are at least a little thankful of the experience they've had this year.

For my last class, I mixed review with a little bit of fun. I had the students do exercises and if they got the answer write when they were chosen to write on the board, they got to ask a question (in Malagasy or English) about me and America. It was fun to share a bit more about myself and my culture with my class. And they had fun reviewing, which can always be a little challenging - especially with the energizing anticipation of Independence Day keeping their brains away from the classroom.

I answered some typical questions, such as: how old am I? How many brothers and sisters do I have? What are my siblings and parents names? But I also had some interesting and thought provoking questions.

For example, one student asked if the education was the same in America. I explained the different levels of education. What they found most interesting was that when you get to the middle school and high school level, the students travel from class room to classroom. Here, the students are stationary and the teachers of different subjects rotate in the different classrooms.

Another fun question was if everyone in America looks like me and my site mate Charlotte (white, blonde, blue-eyed). I got to explain a little bit more about America's history, and how its the same as Madagascar really. People from all different countries come to live in America, just as people from all different countries came to live in Madagascar. So some people are from Africa (even Malagasy people!), Europe, Asia, South America. Just like people in Madagascar are of mixed origins, so are Americans! It was fun to explain the diversity and have the students be excited that there are Malagasy people in America.

The last thing I did was tell the students to keep studying hard and make sure they open their notebooks and read the lessons outside of class to prepare for the exams. I then told them that next year, when they go onto the next level, they are always welcome to ask me for help in English if they need it. The students cheered and looked happy that even though technically my time teaching them is over, it isn't really over!

It was nice to feel that little bit of appreciation for teaching them. And now, I just have about 300 exams to grade.....

Girl Scout to PCV

Girl Scouts Shaped who I am.

Written on 6/25/2014

I was looking at my TimeHop App (an app that shows things you've posted on social media for the past years on the same day), and I saw that two years ago today, I was attending Girl Scout Camp as an adult volunteer for the last time before I set sail on my Peace Corps journey.

When I look back as my time as a Girl Scout, I am extremely grateful for all that Girl Scouts has taught me. The slogan of Girl Scouts is "Where Girls Grow Strong" and I know that one of the roots of my strength can be attributed to my years as a scout.

In Girl Scouts, I learned so much more than how to build fires, arch arrows, sew quilts, sell cookies, and all the other activities that filled my vest with badges. I learned skills that have helped me thrive in life, and as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Earning badges taught me that learning can happen in a million different ways, and that some things are easier to learn than others. I learned that mistakes are okay, and recognizing mistakes is not only important, but necessary to improve yourself and your situation.

Organizing events and selling cookies were cornerstones in my success in education and pushed me to grasp leadership positions because I knew I could handle them. I remember planning for the World Fair (where each troop picked a country to research and showcase in a booth) and being so excited that my ideas were heard and acted upon. We went to the library and combed through all the countries different books. We researched a country, picked an activity, and planned entire booth. Our ideas were never shot down, but shaped into possibilities. Our imaginations were never squandered but encouraged. We weren't called bossy, we weren't talked over. We were heard and shown our voices were important. We were given a space not only to learn, but to thrive.

My excitement preparing for small events like the next meeting or big events like a cookie selling both, World Fair, or Girl Scout camp, motivated me to keep planning and keep raising my hand to share my ideas.

The leaders I had throughout my time as a Girl Scout, most notably my mother, taught me that my gender doesn't hold me in limitations. The possibilities are endless. Through Girl Scouts, I met so many strong women that have inspired me to become who I am today. Being surrounded by Strong women that encouraged me to follow my dreams and helped me feel comfortable to grow in which ever way I chose and I am forever grateful for that.

I remember going to camp after a really difficult week and being surrounded by these wonderful, hardworking, strong, caring women filled me with so much love. With all these strong women around me, I felt safe. And that's what kept me coming back to Girl Scouts even after my years as a Scout had ended. I wanted to give back to the organization and the women that made me feel important, loved, and helped me grow into the strong woman I am today.

Most importantly though, I learned the value of volunteering. Sharing your time with others is the most valuable way to donate. Peace Corps is an extension of that very valuable lesson for me. Each day I spend here I am reminded that my time is important and my mothers tragic passing has showed me how important every day is.

My volunteerism throughout the years has brought me so much happiness and feelings of success. Helping change something or someone through spending time cleaning the streets, spending time with someone in a nursing home, helping someone pick out no-cost Christmas gifts for their children, or teaching younger girls how to build a fire..(among other amazing things) is not only a wonderful thing to experience while growing up, but a wonderful way to grow. And grow strong.

Twelve things for twelve months

12 months..12 cool things.

Written on 6/11/2015

I've been reflecting a lot about having spent my first year in the Peace Corps, and although its been very tough...positive (and really cool) things happened this year too. So I made a list.. of twelve of them.

1. I learned a new language and people actually understand me now.

2. I've taught roughly 250 children the first level of English.

3. I've helped get around 10 (and counting) people access to life-changing surgeries with my sitemate Charlotte and her work with Operation Smile and Mercy Ships.

4. I jumped off a mountain.

5. I held a python and a chameleon.

6. I had multiple lemurs sit on my shoulder.

7. I ran a 10K.

8. Helped run two Malaria Awareness festivals, one in a near by community and one in my own.

9. I went body surfing in the Indian Ocean.

10. Learned how to make rice...but seriously it hasn't been easy.

11. Realized I am a hell-of-a-lot stronger than I thought I was.

12. Made my mother really proud.

There is bound to be another year of amazing things ahead of me!

One Year in Country. I got this.

One Year in Country. I got this.

Written on 6/9/2015

A year ago today my adventure officially started. It was no longer just an idea, a dream, a thing that was about to happen. It was happening. I finished packing my bags and made my way to Philadelphia for staging.

It's been a whirlwind of a year. So much has happened that I can't believe its only been a year.

I'd love to spend my day reminiscing about all the life-changing events that I've experienced living abroad in this beautiful country in this past year, but more than anything, I keep thinking that a year ago today I gave my mother a hug for the last time...

I keep thinking that If I would've known, would I have gotten on that plane? Of course not. I never would've let go. But that wouldn't have been a life worth living. You can't hold on to everything and everyone as tight as possible in the fears that if you leave, if you let go, it might be letting go for the last time.

My mom wouldn't have wanted that for me. Instead, I spent my year making small, beautiful, inspiring changes in my community. And I know that's something she was and would be proud of.

I know this next year will not be easy, if there is anything the last six months without my beautiful mother has taught me, its that the pain that comes with grief never goes away. There will always be times I wish I could talk to my mother, that I reach for my phone to send her a message and remember she isn't there to receive it.

But at the same time, in these past six months, I have exceeded the limits of strength I thought I held. I always knew I was a strong individual, but continuing on with the life I'm living with the hurt I feel, I never would've thought I could do this. And I am doing it. Every day.

It hasn't been easy, of course. I've learned that giving myself time to reflect and be sad has been important, but more importantly, focusing on small goals has been helpful. Sometimes its just as simple of getting out of bed, going to the market, teaching my classes. Focusing on what I'm doing right now, everyday, instead of wondering how I'm possibly going to do this for another year, is helpful. If I can get through today, I can get through a thousand more tomorrows. If I can get through this week, I can get through a hundred more weeks.

And planning for my future has also been therapeutic. It's easy to get caught up in what's going on now but looking to the future and knowing that at some point I'll be reflecting back to this moment is helpful. Right now, I'm studying for the GRE, in the hopes to go to Grad School a year after I return and receive my master's in Public Administration so I can return to development work in a leadership position.

These next few years are not going to be easy. But if this past year has taught me anything, it's that I can do this! Here's to another year, however tough it is, of beautiful Madagascar. Here's to another year (and the many more years to come) of making my mother proud.

Do you have your papers?

Do you have your papers?

Written on 6/9/2015

Happened on 6/5/2015

Last week Thursday, while I was in Tamatave (a big port city up the coast), I was stopped by the immigration police.

True to form, when stopped at first, I was immediately sassy. To be fair, the law enforcement has cat called and creeped before. Also, the group of official looking individuals (in blue bottoms and white tops) looked like any casual group of higher ups taking a stroll through Tamatave after their lunch break. There was one male officer and a group of females were walking a few feet behind him.

He started walking toward us, chest up, and speaking what I only heard as a creepy cat call in French. He just kept following us and saying things in French. Because I don't know French very well, I only understood that he wanted to stop to talk to us and I assumed he was just being a creep. I replied in the only French I know, "Je suis American. Je ne parle pas Francais, azafady." (I am American. I don't speak french. Sorry).

That was a response he wasn't happy with apparently and he started speaking in intense Malagasy saying we shouldn't speak to him that way and that he was immigration police looking for our papers....woooooooops.

Of course I immediately apologized and said we had just been "talked to" (aka whistled at) by a group of security guards near by and thought it was happening again because we don't know French. He seemed to understand my confusion, and my Malagasy (or at least he thought I was flirting with him and laughed off my initial sass).

He asked for our paperwork, but my friend and I didn't have it. We typically only carry around our paperwork at night because that's when the immigration people are usually out and have stopped us before. I explained to him that we have already lived here for a year and have never been stopped during the day so we left our paperwork at the hotel because we know there are many pickpocketers in Tamatave and didn't want our very important paperwork stolen.

He seemed to understand and said it was no problem but next time we should really carry around our papers because we could be put in jail for not having them (although as long as we had our phones we could call Peace Corps Madagascar's security officer and be okay).

Then he continued to ask me if I was married, had children, had a boyfriend, had a gasy boyfriend, how old I was, if I wanted a boyfriend.........

So wait, did he ever really need my papers?

ANYWAYS, After the incident, a new volunteer who was with us (and had his paperwork) said, "Wow, that really makes me understand how stupid Arizona's laws on immigration are!" At first, I had to think about it (it's been a while since I've been in the loop on American politics), but stopping someone for looking like an immigrant really is an insulting law. It really got me thinking.

In America, if we were there as immigrants, would we be expected to have our paperwork at all times? How frustrating would it be to constantly be stopped by the police for appearing to be an immigrant. Especially considering the diverse population of America, it could basically come down to stopping anyone who isn't white. Which is basically the definition of systematic racism considering even white people can be immigrants... in fact, there are people of every race who were born in America, and many whose families have lived there for generations and who are immigrants.

These are all facts I new before being stopped and asked if I had my paperwork... but it put a fresh perspective on what its like to be an immigrant (or apparently to look like an immigrant) in America or any other country with oddly unwelcoming immigration laws.

Beyond other things, systematic racism is an aggressively oppressive problem in America and should be considered in the making of every law. An important part of making an equal, welcoming, law system would be having a governmental body that more accurately represents the diversity of genders, races, ethnicities, religions, sexualities... in America.

JUST SAYING.

Unbearable Lightness by Portia de Rossi Review

Unbearable Lightness, A Story of Loss and Gain by Portia De Rossi

Written on 6/12/2015

Shout out to Rachel for sending me this book! :)

De Rossi wrote a brave and inspiringly honest book about her battle with disordered eating and her identity. She wrote it to help herself heal and to help others realize they aren't alone. That, in itself, makes this book worth reading.

By writing this book De Rossi makes a strong point that anyone can have disordered eating. Its not a disease saved for the famous, the beautiful models, or the exceptionally wealthy. Importantly, she talks about the difference between disordered and ordered eating. Ordered eating means eating when you're hungry and stopping when you are full. Its eating for enjoyment, for health, eating to sustain life. Disordered eating is an obsession about food. Restriciting your diet to foods that are good and foods that are bad. Ignoring bodily signs of hunger and fullness. That its important to be in tune with you body and to give it what it needs.

But, this book also could just as easily be seen as a novel about the pressures to be accepted, to be the best, to feel love.

De Rossi worried that she did fit in from a young age and worked hard to be exceptional so that people would look past her innormalities. After recieving fame, she realized that too often, "The preception of who you are is more important than who you are. You are what other people think of you."

So De Rossi decided she wanted to be the best, the prettieset, the thinnest. It wasn't until she realized that being that meant losing her life that she realized she didn't need to be the best. She only needed to be better than you used to be, by making small changes everyday to become who you really are.

Lastly, De Rossi talks about love. The importance of loving yourself, loving others, and loving who you want to love. In this novel, De Rossi speaks about her feeling of unacceptance towards her sexuality, from herself, from her family, from the general public. She was so afraid people would discover she was gay that she hid from any form of love.

When she finally became honest with others and herself, love was ultimately a big part of her healing process. She says, "healing comes from love. And loving every living thing in turn helps you love yourself."