waste

It's a tragedy to see a wasted mind and a wasted spirit.

I hope to never be one.

sometimes we just need to scream

I'm well aware of the fact that I'm not an easy person to deal with when it comes to any form of relationship. I live life in a lucid dream and make up stories in my head on a regular basis. To my credit, I would have stopped making up stories if they never came true--unfortunately, they come true a little too often.

HOWEVER. I do exaggerate simple situations. When I'm stressed out, I do that a lot.

Now, my brain operates by a finely tuned symphony of lists, schedules, and itineraries. When I have a particularly large amount of coursework due, the tuning becomes finer and I tend to go into emotional shutdown--bottling up emotions for when I have time to feel them, reserving as much energy as possible for the time being. This may sound unhealthy, but...eh, you're right. But I've been this way since I was a kid and I'll probably never change.

Sometimes I forget that other people do not operate like my brain. They do not have compartmentalized thoughts, feelings, and plans, and cannot read my lists. And sometimes I decide that it is a good idea to let people know of the list in my head. Unfortunately, I don't add the reasoning behind my itineraries and therefore it is often misconstrued. Why is this more important than that, why are you doing this instead of that, etc etc etc. Trust me. There's a reason. I just don't want to have to explain it.

So, as these things inevitably end up, life explodes into a fireball of emotion and miscommunication and irrationality.

The good thing is that these feelings rarely last more than a few hours now. Before I started practicing, I could stew for weeeeks. Talk about unhealthy.

In the end, lots of yelling, screaming, and tears result. The bottled up emotions come spewing out like hastily opened tonic water and sprays us all in the face.

My conclusion? If we can't understand each other, sometimes we just need to yell and scream and cry. And then apologize. Still working on that part, but I think I'm getting better.

finding a balance

My dad says I don't update my blog enough. So does my wonderful friend Ilan!

I mean, I guess that is true. Between blogs, facebook notes, facebook updates, and emails, I DO in fact update quite a bit...but one form of communication? That is soooo 1999 ;)

For the past few years, I have found that there comes a time when I seriously re-evaluate my priorities and try to keep myself in check. My personality is to charge full speed ahead, completely unaware of the effects on others, and try to get things DONE. I'm trying to balance my personality with thought and spirit.

I've been doing that these past few weeks. I am trying to find a balance in working on my self and working on my relationships with others. It's a slow and arduous process, but I am finding myself happier and more complete. Go figure!

I found that I had neglected many friendships. I also found that I was frustrated with things that I had no control over. My solution has been to make an effort to catch up with friends and let them know that I'm there for them--knowing that all I can do is offer, not force. The results have been astounding and I am so incredibly grateful for the people that I have in my life.

I'm a really lucky girl.

Greatness

"Greatness is always built on this foundation: the ability to appear, speak and act, as the most common man."
- Shams-ud-din Muhammed Hafiz

Try. Never stop trying.

"I cant accept the world the way it is. It's too horrible. So I have to try to change it. My choice is either take it or do something about it--or try to do something about it. I think we have an obligation to those who have died...to those who have survived...to try. Never to stop trying to make it a more humane world. And that's what I do, and I ask others to do the best they can. Try. And if we try hard enough and long enough, I'm confident it will come about."
--Ben Ferencz, Nuremberg Prosecutor

mini-reflection

Best decisions of the past few years:
-going to Ghana
-working my butt off in Ghana
-allowing myself to go in and out of a "relationship" for 4 years in order to discover the importance of family
-working as a mechanic
-going to India
-beginning my Mysore yoga practice
-staying true to my SELF, not another's idea of my self

I hope that one day I stop crying.

Specifically about the state of the world.

Videos with graphics entailing human brutality, children dying from severe acute malnutrition, the rape in both developed and developing countries, the violence against people based on race caste creed religion--I can keep going for days.

I don't understand people in the world.

I don't understand the inherent evil.

I don't understand the chronic state of hate.

The only thing that stops my rabid emotions is action. When I get my hands dirty, work my butt off, and turn emotions on due to overwork instead of helplessness.... That's it.

People wonder why I work so hard. People question the "work ethic." People question my motives. It's to keep my mind at ease. It's to make me feel better about myself. That's pretty much it--I'm a workaholic to get rid of SOME of that helpless feeling.

I'm currently filling my mind with thought, opinions, and plans for the world. When I finish, I hope to see how it all works out. I hope to dive in and get the ball of my workaholic nature rolling. Soon soon soon. I guess I just need to be patient and breathe.

a bout of the dreaded chikungunya...

On my way back from India, I began to feel ill. The pains had begun a few days earlier, but I attributed them to a double dose of rigorous yoga practice on Saturday. I now believe that I was very, very wrong.

While I was packing to return to the States, I had the notion to pack a couple of IB profin in my carryon just in case.... In the taxi going from Mysore to Bangalore, I felt pain and a little flu-ish. By the time I reached the airport, I knew that I had a fever. When I entered the country, they shot our foreheads with temperature guns for swine flu. I knew that if they did that, they would detect a fever and throw me into quarantine. I did my best to avoid all airport personnel and got up to my terminal.

While I waited the five hours for my flight (Anu overestimated the time it would take to drive to BGL by a longshot), I got myself an iced tea (AT USD PRICES!!!). I continued to feel feverish and began to get a little bit worried.

Nevertheless, I boarded the plane, assuming that I was exaggerating and being a hypochondriac as always.

On the way to Paris, I was in constant pain. I couldn't sleep as my joints simply ACHED. I tried to drink water, but that's always questionable on air planes.... I didn't get out the ib profin as I had an entire leg ahead of me and wanted to wait it out. FYI--I hate taking chemicals.

In Paris the pain did not subside and the headache fully presented itself. I was hot, cranky, and hurting all over. It didn't help that my flight from India was filled with a bunch of impatient travelers who pushed and shoved onto the terminal shuttle. I got to my gate to NYC as they were boarding, still avoiding any and all airport personnel.

On the plane to Paris, I knew I was in trouble. I was still extremely hot, my head throbbed, and I could feel every thing in my body--joints, bones, ligaments, tendons, muscles, skin, hair...every thing. While the public health part of me told me that I needed to not get on a plane, the realistic side of me told me that I needed to get into the US with my insurance and language. (I have yet to learn French.)

The way to New York was miserabl, and I'm sure the woman next to me thought I was crazy. I didn't pop the pills, but got to New York tired, sore, and cranky. By this time the dizziness set in. I got to customs and was appalled at the slow-motion-performance of the customs officers. I was the 5th person in line and it took me over half an hour. My guy got up and left for about 25 minutes.

I finally collected my bags and dragged myself into a cab. My driver was a crank-pot and I was not in the mood for NYC BS. I got to my apt, dragged myself into my room, and collapsed in my bed. I felt slightly naseous, sore, dizzy, tired, and had a headache.

Recalling my symptoms of malaria, I knew that this was some thing else. I had also lost my appetite, and, for those of you who know me, my appetite is a sure indicator of my health. It is the LAST thing to go.

The next day I dragged myself to the health clinic, foregoing yoga practice and work obligations. I thought I was going to pass out the whole way there and could not believe the weakness I felt. I asked to be tested for dengue and malaria, reassuring them that I was not in a malaria zone. They stuck me on an IV and eventually I went home.

The fever lasted 3 more days. The peak (of measurement) was at approximately 102, and this was after I had stopped feeling on fire. Pretty nasty, I'd say. The fever continued to go in and out for 4 days, I felt terrible, had to sleep about 15 hours a day, and could barely make it to and from the subway station. No good. I hate being helpless and useless.

I went to Nevada to see my parents and experienced the bouts of pain, weakness, and tiredness throughout the trip. This was unfortunate as my parents thought I was being a drama queen. I tried to practice yoga and motivate myself to see people, but I was tired all the time. Blah.

Fast forward.

It looks like the bug I (and about 5 other expats people from the Mysore bubble and countless Indians) had was the dreaded Chikungunya virus. Spread by the nasty mosquitoes, it's pretty much impossible to treat/properly diagnose in the good ol USofA. The recovery time is approximately 3 months. I'm at one month (exactly!). The pain circulates throughout my body and it's pretty much a gamble on how I'm going to sleep/wake up. Luckily it has cycled through enough times that I've sort of gotten used to it and am regaining my strength. I can now get through a day, but still have a hard time in my yoga practice/walking. I got up to Mayurasana in second series last week, so I think that's a good sign! Sadly the pain has been in my lower back and hips the last few days, irritating the hell out of me.

In my global health class yesterday, I was perusing through AlertNet. Lo and behold, the Chikungunya has an alert! Naturally, I was a little ashamed when I read this sentence by Dr. James Diaz of the Louisiana University Health Sciences Center: "Travel by air will import the infected mosquitoes and humans," he added. "Chikungunya is coming."

I got on a plane. I was sick, got on a plane, and who KNOWS what happened in that tiny box of circulating air. I know better than that. To my credit, I am a bit of a hypochondriac and try to balance that out with reason. Regardless, I was actually ill and got on TWO planes. I know that it happens and that I'm not the only person from Mysore who was sick and got on a plane, but still. Globalization, man. It spreads disease.

I'm hoping to fully recover over the next couple of weeks. I'm also hoping to restore whatever karma it is that I've mistreated that puts me in these tropical infectious disease-situations. I'm waiting for a sign. Perhaps when I'm healed....

TIPS:
-don't get cocky and stop wearing your mosquito repellent
-if sick, make sure you have access to plenty of fluids
-it's good to have a friend around to help you out the first few days. It's practically debilitating and that makes it very difficult for us New York singles...
-never underestimate the power of tropical infections

living with intention

I went to India knowing that I needed to work on acknowledging that my actions affect others. I've come to the conclusion that it's a life long process.

I spent the last two years coming to the realization that I was going into my professional field for purely selfish reasons. I enjoy working with and for others. If doing what makes me happy benefits others, selfishness can be good. Right?

I need to work on separating my personal and professional lives. Being selfish in my personal life, when it affects others in a negative way, is not good. Even when I go thousands of miles away to work on my self, I still need to be aware of others.

I went. I spent. I need. I haven't figured out if this is me moving past working on my self or God telling me to keep working on my self. I suppose I will learn more in the days to come.

I'm living with intention. I suppose that's all I can do.

MYSORE. the yoga and the india.

Mysore-style yoga is the traditional form of Ashtanga yoga. You learn one pose at a time of a pre-scripted sequence at the instructors discretion. Think of it as a sandwich: first come the sun salutations (A&B), then the standing postures, then which ever series you are working on (there are six, in practice), and finish up with the finishing postures. The poses are connected with the ujjayi breath and vinyasas.

I have been addicted to this specific form of Ashtanga since I was forced into a class at the yoga shack in Reno, NV and found it so incredibly frustrating/challenging/ridiculous that my Type-A personality SCREAMED at me. Naturally, I went back for more.

Almost 1.5 years later, I have created a personal connection with my practice so deep, I crave my 6/7 (ish...) days of asana practice/personal growth.

My primary series is a big bear hug of comfort and meditation (which still challenging with room to grow) on moondays, Fridays, and days of physical/mental heaviness. My second series has finally been sketched out and is gathering shadings with every practice. I patiently anticipate third series in the coming future. It's beautiful, really.

This past week I returned from a month long adventure in Mysore, India, where I learned more about myself, life, humanity, spirituality, ETC than I could have ever imagined. I met incredible people and experienced life changing events...I look forward to returning again soon.

I'm going to spend the next few blogs reflecting and recounting my time there, more for my own benefit than any one else's. The places I saw, the places I need to remember to return...you know. All of that fun stuff ;) Hopefully you will get to travel to Mysore too, and perhaps use some of my memories as a guide line for making your own....

Woah. I'm almost overbooked.

Yesterday=skydove. Yea. I did. Whatttttttttt.
Today:=moved out of the loft in Williamsburg and into the first floor of a building in ft greene/prospect park area...
This week=crashing at Es, finals, unpacking after the 1st
Upcoming weekend:=unpacking, no 4th plans (for the first 4th I've spent in the States in a very long time...), hopefully waiting in line at 4am on Sunday for Shakespeare in the Park tickets.
Next week=end of finals
Next Thursday-Monday=Florida
Tuesday-Tuesday=work/prepare for india!
That Tuesday the 21st=depart for Bangalore
Arrive the 22
Practice yoga for a month in Mysore :)
August 26=return to NYC
August 29-31=Wagner weekend retreat
September 1-9=Reno
September 10=begin Fall classes.

Eek! Totally booked. Hehe.

Danuns and dacleanse

The weekend at danuns was absolutely incredible. These two women represent the gifts of compassion, strength, and goodwill that I would like to attain. Their educated dialogue combines with their wisdom following years of struggles and conflict. They believe in empowerment and lean towards the redefinition of gender roles. These two ladies completely wiped away all assumptions I had of "nuns."

The house was absolutely beautiful, furnished and remodeled with gifts from the community and people danuns have touched. The donated pool is magnificent and will be a fitting addition to their ministry. Their home and surrounding area represents the magnitude to which these women have affected the lives of others, for good.

In regards to the cleanse....

I'd been feeling extremely unenergetic the past week. Not in a caffeine way (given) but in a different way. On Friday we went to Mexican food where I had some chicken enchiladas con mole. It was delicious. My mood brightened up and the next morning my muscles had ENERGY! Clearly, going off of meat is not as simple as I thought it would be. I've decided to incorporate light meat meals into my diet. Instead of eating a copious amount of meat on the cleanse, I will eat when necessary. I did notice that every time I ate food this weekend that wasn't cleanse approved (chocolate, lemon bars, meat, cheese, sugar...) I actually TASTED the food rather than inhale. However, I did inhale the nachos. That was a bit of a doozy and I felt it after, for sure.

Altogether, I have gained an awareness on the cleanse. I'm still on it and am back to normal with my tofu and veggies. Sigh.

I'm now back to the daily grind and preparing to move. Supppppper. India in a month! Yay!!!

Cleanse Week 1: Cheats, mistakes, and a little FYI...

Week one of the cleanse is slowly coming to its end. As I gather up a few of my belongings to go up to danuns with Edith and Co this weekend, I'm going to take a quick moment to share what I've discovered.

Day One: The hardest part of this day was going to the slumber party. Sabrina and Landon were in town so we had a little food fest. I ate the salad and the tortilla chips/salsa and strawberries I brought, sadly skipping the pasta. EJ rolls in at about 10 with a dozen Crumbs cupcakes. SO MEAN! They went out for fried chicken at about midnight and I hit the hay. Phew.

Day Two: Caffeine. I was the biggest bitch in the world on Monday. I couldn't function, was incredibly unproductive, and actually warned my boss about the status of my caffeine withdrawal. I had a great Mysore practice with second series in the morning, but then I usually have my cuppa Joe. I had also come straight from a slumber party with a rowdy crowd filled with cupcakes and The headache began around noon and I was not happy when those little kids started coming into the office. I was mean to people in person, I was mean to people in cyberspace, I was mean to people in my head. It's insane! I had to go out and buy lunch and was ABSOLUTELY APPALLED by the amount they charged me for a salad. I went home and popped a couple of IB profin to reduce the pain and hammer out my midterm. I turned in my midterm and fell asleep in class...had to see apartments that night too. ooooo I was not happy. Haha!

Day Three: Edith's Birthday. No caffeine headache on the second day, so I was quite relieved. I was also a little bit more with it. I practiced the Primary series in the morning and then realized when I got to work that I left my work keys and my computer charger in the drawer. This proves how out of it I really was on Monday! I was really hungry all day and could not be satisfied with almonds, apples, or veggies and rice. I researched some edible options for Edith and I to head to for her bday and we ended up going to Rockin' Raw. I had "live" pasta with pesto, E had the gumbo, and Amanda had the "live" pasta rojo. The food was decent, however, at my second attempt eating raw I have come to the same conclusion: the raw foods diet will NEVER satiate my appetite. In fact, it makes me hungrier! I went to Babycakes before dinner to pick up some cleanse-approved cupcakes and we sang and gorged like there was no tomorrow. We then went to Foodswings, a vegan fast food place in Williamsburg, and gorged ourselves on the gluten free options of BBQ "chicken" drums, fried plantains, and french fries. It was halfway through our meal when I realized that we couldn't actually have BBQ sauce or ketchup. Oops. Slip #1....We then went to Bembe to listen to some latin beats and fantasize about the mojitos and watermelon drinks we could have had. I got Edith a watermelon drink. I mean, c'mon, it's her birthday! She has to have a celebratory drink! We acknowledged the addiction and moved on.

Day Four: Second series day and feeling super sluggish. I've been feeling really unenergetic the last few days. I'm going to say it's the caffeine...it could also be the last minute apt hunting and the like. I do have a new place, so that's a relief. I signed a lease, went to class, and then went to Zoe and Caitlin's bday celebration at a Thai restaurant. I had the green curry with tofu, knowing that they probably put in soy sauce and fish sauce. But hey, you have to be flexible.

Day Five: Did not get up for yoga. There was so much rain I "snoozed" my alarm and ended up waking up at 8! Headed out to work for a full crazy day of trying to sort out the practice's life....it was pretty insane. Edith and I planned a sushi night with her brother and sister who were in town. My friend from Ghana had a layover in New York with his little brother, so they stopped by (super jet lagged...his little brother actually just slept in my bed the whole time haha!). We had sushi with cucumbers, asian pears, carrots, imitation crab, and egg. So. Here's where I really slipped up:
-I cooked the egg for the egg people and began snacking on it. Oops.
-I just googled imitation crab meat. It turns out it's made out of real fish WITH sugar, egg, and wheat binding agents. This explains why my kidneys felt like crap last night and today in Mysore...

Today is the 6th day. I could go for a glass of wine. I could also go for a nice juicy steak. But it's ok, because I will just say no!

I still wonder what it is that is making my kidneys feel so bad. I thought it was gluten (and still might) but was bombarded with a plethora of statistics on facebook on why gluten would not be the culprit. Sigh.

It's pretty interesting what this cleanse is showing me. First of all, caffeine really allows me to function as a human being. Second of all, we never really know what we're putting into our bodies! I started reading labels and it's pretty incredible which foods have wheat, sugar, etc in them and which don't.

I'm looking forward to this weekend for a reprise from the New York drama.

Cleanse, Cleanse, Cleanse...

I'm finished with this cycle of mind-body-soul abuse.

It has truly gotten out of hand and I have hurt one too many people on this downhill path.

In order to jumpstart my path to self-discovery, I am partaking on a 21-day cleanse of sorts. This is a cleanse called Quantum Wellness by Kathy Freston--it's been hailed by Oprah and the people at my yoga studio have raved about it. While thumbing through the book, I find that, although I fundamentally disagree with wealthy white women telling us all how to be skinny, I do like some of the basic principals.

The cleanse is basically the elimination of the following five things from one's diet:

1. Animal Products
2. Sugar
3. Caffeine
4. Alcohol
5. Gluten

I gave up gluten for 7 days last week and saw an incredible difference in my body and mind. This should be interesting and I'm quite excited for the potential of finding out what it is that causes the pains in my kidneys.

I know that in 2 days the caffeine headaches will set in. I know that in 6 days the meat cravings will be unbearable. I know that in 8 days my sugar cravings are going to be absolutely abominable. But I'm determined.

My little cheats are decaf coffee and Luna bars. Luna bars aren't on the list of "approved items," but I haven't seen any thing in the ingredients that indicate any of the big 5.

Edith and I went grocery shopping last night and stocked up on unsweetened dried fruits, alternate grains, beans nuts and lentils, etc. This should be interesting.

Following this little kickstart, I will be making my way to India for a month. I will be practicing Mysore in Mysore from July 21-August 25! I'm so excited and still in disbelief at my impulsive ways :)

Today is day one. There is a "slumber party" tonight and I know it will be my first major challenge. Thus far I have had gluten free kids cereal, vegetarian chili I made the other day, and am drinking decaf coffee as I plot out how to complete this disgusting midterm in the next 4 hours.

Small small reflection of sorts

As I my final semester as a technical undergraduate nears its end, I can't help but ponder about my future.
A) Unemployment
B) Continuing education
C) The amount of money spent on education
D) My travel bug

Unemployment is ever present and looming in my weary face. Not only is there a practical hiring freeze across the globe, but I'm not qualified to do what I want to do. Please tell me why one must have a Masters just to INTERN at a big organization? It's absurd.

You may or may not know that I am currently working on my MPA. This just means that I get to wrack up 36 more credits and add an MPA to the end of my name. I can also intern at the UN. What is an MPA? Master of Public Administration...for public and nonprofit management and policy analysis, with a light focus on health. It's a mouthful. This also means that I will be adding about 40K to my education costs...bringing me to my next topic.

Over the past four years, I have spent approximately 200K on my education. By "I" I refer to my loving parents and Sallie Mae. Due to the ever changing significance of education, my BA is now worth about as much as a GED, requiring me to attend more school and shell out more money. This year I didn't purchase any text books, as they raised tuition 2K a semester. Sigh.

What could I have done with 200K in four years? Hm. Let's think. I could have flown myself around the globe and traveled to far and near lands. I could have studied to be a yoga instructor and moved to India for a touch. I could have actually afforded to live in New York. I could have bought a pretty decent house (in this economy). ETC. There are many things that I could have done with that 200K.

What could I not have done without spending the past 4 years as I did. I wouldn't have experienced ridiculous roomates. I probably would not have lived in New York. I wouldn't have lived in Madrid. I wouldn't have become a mechanic for 3 months (who knows). I wouldn't have lived in Ghana and worked on an incredible project. I wouldn't have met a lot of people. I wouldn't have figured out what I wanted to do with my life academically. I wouldn't have learned such valuable life lessons. I wouldn't be the same person whatsoever.

Was 200K worth it? Who knows. But I did it and it's done and I'm here. And very very very much in debt.

The travel bug is a different issue entirely. I've always had this, but now it's INTENSIFIED! I'm thinking India, Kilimanjaro, or Kenya. Hmmm....

All in all I'm pretty blessed to have such a challenging yet unchallenging life. It's like my yoga practice--only as challenging as I want to make it. It's like I'm always IN control and NOT in control....interesting interesting interesting.

busy busy little ants, we are

I am really bad about updating...

So, I'm in New York. Nice cold windy wet New York. I found an apt, like my roommates, found a yoga studio to practice work-study, and have started classes. I purchased myself a bed for my birthday, sent my resume to 1.6 billion people, tried to call people, and realized that I need an iPhone. I've gone grocery shopping a few times, out a few times, and driven a Uhaul through the streets of New York city.

I haven't even been here for 3 weeks!

I added a few Mysore poses today but definitely overstretched my shoulders...it certainly doesn't help that I threw myself back into walking 5+miles a day with 30 pound purses.... Whoops.

I guess that's why God made man to make heat packs :)

HamanahamanaHA!

Hellloooo all!

What a week! Phew, I'm so glad it's over.

As the countdown begins to our return to the States, NYU students are dropping like flies. Malaria, respiratory problems, robberies, concussions, typhoid scares, GI issues, flu bugs, strange rashes, meningitis scares--every thing imaginable has hit us all at once. I myself came down with this ridiculous flu that outsmarted every homeopathic trick I had--then proceeded to outsmart every Western medicine trick I had! I was at a loss. In about 2 hours I went from sick to thinking I had strep throat. That turned into flu symptoms after a sleepless night, which then turned into symptoms of a sinus infection. My symptoms changed every 30 minutes on Tuesday and I called into work for my first sick day ever. I was an absolutely miserable mucusy mess. The doctor paid a house visit after a few of the girls had to go to the hospital for respiratory problems and told me that I could develop pneumonia quickly in this part of the world and needed to go on antibiotics. Being onery, I refused. By Wednesday, my "flu" symptoms suddenly went into my chest and I felt the feeling of pneumonia coming on. I decided to give in and take the antibiotics. Of course, the pharmacy was out of my last day's dosage....so I ended up spending WAY more money than I should have :/ But the antibiotics worked like a charm and now I'm suffering from the sniffles and a cough.

That being said, the conference that I was organizing came off yesterday. The conference was geared to be a student discussion on the effectiveness of aid in Africa, based off of the September Aid Effectiveness Conference regarding the Accra Agenda for Action and the Millenium Development Goals. Over the past week, naturally the logistical craze caught up to my team and every thing turned to chaos. Being a complete and utter useless mess, I was pretty sure the conference was going to fail miserably. Half of my team was sick, the other half angry and stressed, our supervisor a complete space cadet, and me hacking through it all. But, I am pleased to say that it was an enormous success. We had about 50+ attendees (non-organizers) which ended up being the perfect size for our small group discussions. The Vice-Provost of NYU attended as well as the Director of our program. While I was running around trying to get every thing running smoothly, I was unable to actually sit in on the group discussions. From what I heard, the discussions were actually very educational and taught both International and Ghanaian students a lot. We ended up getting speakers from the World Bank, UNDP, CARE International, and an NGO. The speakers did a good job, but the discussions were definitely the highlight of the conference.The response was overwhelmingly positive, so I'm pretty happy about it :)

So, not to worry any one, but this past week one of my friends was robbed. We have been warned since day one not to wear our purses diagonally or facing the road...of course, none of us ever listen. Unfortunately, one night walking home from dinner a car came from behind, snatched the purse, and caused her to fall back onto her head. Thankfully the bag's strap ripped so that she wasn't dragged along...also, she did not have very many valuables in her bag. However, 24 hours later she starts vomiting uncontrollably and the hospital here treats her for malaria....yea. We were all pretty pissed that they didn't even know how to diagnose a concussion. At the end of the day she's ok, but we certainly all learned a lesson.

On Monday I changed supervisors. The COP and dCOP had an intervention with me as they had expected way more work from me and had been forwarded my frustrated email from Gigi (my internship professor). I have now taken the lead on data analysis and collection. Of course, then I fell ill. My dad and I had a nice chat about not letting people take advantage of my work ethic...I'm definitely going to have to put that into perspective as finals have begun and the USAID reports are still for an unpaid internship. Sigh. Too much to think about. I really do like working working more than academically working. I think I'll get it done. As long as I don't get sick again!

Other than that, nothing really new to report. I grabbed an ankle in my back bend which gave me a huge feeling of accomplishment :) I'll be returning to the States in 3 weeks. It's either too little time or too much time. I think I either needed to go home a month ago or stay here for another 6....but I guess beggars can't be choosers!

I'm ok with Ghana today. I don't hate being here.

It is, however, getting HOT and HUMID. I thought it was hot and humid when I got here...ha. Ha ha. Funny joke, eh? I will really appreciate being cold and unsweaty. The "hamana" (or whatever it is called) is here--it's when all of the dirt and dust and sands blow into Ghana and linger in the air making it absolutely impossible for the asthmatics among us to live without wheezing, hacking, and getting pneumonia. Superrrrrrrr.

Accra--Workaholic style

Greetings everyone!

It has been awhile, no? In true JS fashion I put too much on my plate and got mixed up in a mumbojumbo of work, school, and social activities. Also, some learning experiences left me a little shell shocked and reflective. Per usual. So I'll summarize.

Things that I'm doing:

• Organizing a conference to discuss aid effectiveness in Ghana (and the rest of the world) with students from Ashesi, Legon, and NYU. This is coming off November 21...hopefully we pull it together! It is a perfect chance for people (like me) to find out what people living in the developing world (national staff) think--eventually we'll be working together, may as well start learning now!
• Finishing up classes for the semester, writing too many papers, and trying to figure out how to get to an exam on a SUNDAY in November.
• Training new counselors from the National Aids Control Programme for the pilot program I'm working on and trying to launch the third aspect of the program before the end of November
• transferring the data to a new system so that I can actually leave Accra on time.
  
• Trying to figure out how to only take one undergraduate class next semester and graduate. :)

Things that I've done:

• Took a trip to Kumasi to see the cultural center, visit the palace of the Ashanti king, and roam through the hectic market
• Spent my fall break here in Accra working...
• Took a trip to Kokrobite beach
• Applied for graduation May 2009
  
• Gave up dairy (it's a slow process, but quite necessary) (no more chocolate velvet cheesecake...)
  
• Stopped chewing ice! (why I gave up dairy)
• Attempted to vote in the 2008 election. Let's just say that my ballot didn't arrive until Monday, Washoe county won't return my emails, and the Embassy doesn't really just let you add things to the diplomatic pouch....I voted, but it may not be counted. Sigh. Actually, no, it's a complete conspiracy. They have all of this talk about how they want the youth vote to rise and they want absentees to vote and they're doing every thing they can to have your vote counted--but that's crap. They refuse to send out absentee ballots in a timely manner, they don't accept write ins until 14 days before the election, the Embassy makes you wait in line with the people applying to immigrate just to submit your ballot, and no one answers emails! I did everything right. Conceivably, my vote should get to Washoe county. But it won't. Think about how many people are relying on absentee ballots to vote--it's a complete joke. Sigh.
• went to Aburi gardens yesterday--we ate cinnamon bark, smelled all spice leaves, rubbed some menthol leaves on us, and rode bikes around a village. We had the PERFECT day. We also spent a good amount of time sorting through Halloween's festivities, commiserating on our health, and gorging ourselves on jollof rice and fried chicken. Yum.
• Avoiding any and all political arguments.

Last week I had a discussion with a Ghanaian coworker regarding development projects. He told me that if he could go back, he would have never entered into development. Here's an interesting fact: Ghanaians going into development projects have a higher salary. For instance: a driver for the civil service (or NYU) makes 100 Ghana cedis a month. A driver for a development project would make about 300 Ghana cedis per month. That's huge! The same goes for every person in every position. So rather than being fueled by the desire to help people, the national staff is fueled by nothing--this is just a job. What's the incentive? They can't even take bribes (whereas many other people must --take bribes-- to survive/live their lavish lifestyles). Realizing this disparity behind values and beliefs of expats versus national staff was quite shocking. I mean, expats have it pretty easy--everything is covered: food, house, nanny, cook, car, driver, etc. The salary goes right into the bank and expats get to lead a fairly cushy life style. But still, I believe that people get into development with the fundamental purpose of helping in some way. But basically, what I concluded was that development will never work because no one wants it to work and that my entire career path is a joke. Of course, I've snapped out of that. As long as I do my best and believe in what I do, some thing will happen, even if it's just laying a foundation for the next generation. I mean, look at this pilot program. We are getting interest from several other countries and being hailed as the number one response program on the continent. That's pretty impressive.

Then we have work. Work in general just drives me insane. I'm so tired of being talked down to and constantly being out of the loop. Unless I do things myself or say things in a way that persuade others to actually do their job rather than read the paper, nothing ever happens. It's incredibly frustrating. I like to get things done and I am fairly proactive about doing them. When every one of your supervisors is NOT that way, life can be a little difficult. In a moment of absolute frustration, I decided to write a report on September's data and send it to the Chief of Party without having it approved by my supervisor...not in a brown nosing way, but because that is in my scope of work and it was my job. I couldn't wait for her to open her emails and MAYBE look at it the next week.

The report got great feedback from the Chief of Party and we edited it and sent it off to Nigeria, Senegal, and Washington. Even though my supervisor made me feel like crap after it, I can't help but be a little bit proud.

Anyway. I could go on forever. At the end of the day, I'm really starting to miss my friends and family. This town is like high school and the expats all know every one's business. I don't really like that. I love this country, but I'm starting to think I need some thing less comfortable. I was reading through the devex report on the world and realized that I live in a Ghana bubble. Just because I'm in a developing country doesn't mean that the world has stopped killing itself. Wars, cholera, measles, malnutrition, etc etc etc are still happening and I need to stop living in this fantasy world where every developing country is like Ghana. I let myself get too comfortable.

I miss you all and can't wait to see you in December (Reno) and in January (New York). I can't wait to be cold and get to wear clothes again. I can wait to be homeless and cold in New York in the middle of winter....Regardless, we'll have to have a huge reunion fest to celebrate me actually coming back. It's questionable at times ;)

Love you!!
J

a weekend with Habitat and a premature death

Well I certainly had an enlightening, maturing, and "interesting" weekend. This weekend I went to a village outside of Accra to build a home for Habitat for Humanity. There were 30 students, 3 RAs, the Associate Director, and the Director of Community Service. With that much man power, one would expect a lot of work to get done, right?

From my high school years of Mexico trips, I was used to the efficiency of Richard Shaff leading the way, utilizing the most of what little time we had to get the job done. When we built houses, we all had a job and worked until that job was finished. At the end of the day, exhaustion would set in and we would all retire for the night, resting in anticipation for the next productive day. Despite our weary bodies, we would still give it our all.

Well, welcome to the real world, I suppose. Habitat for Humanity is a well known organization. They are international, have projects in the US, and are renown for the "work" that they do. Imagine my thoughts when I realized how disordered and half-hearted this entire project was. As we drove up to the village, I observed the half built houses perched in various corners of the land.

Let me pause by saying this village is like paradise--even though it is literally right off the high way, the village has a sense of seclusion from society. The green is just GREEN, the dirt RED, and the sky a medley of blues and grays. The clouds threatened rain, but we can never tell in this part of the earth. Life was vibrant and the simplicity was just beautiful...I can't wait to show you the photos!

Back to the story. The Habitat people arranged "homestays" for us--we grouped ourselves into four people and marched our way through the village. Every so often Christa (the Associate Director) would yell out "FOUR PEOPLE!" in her ever so grating nasalesque voice and four of us would step forward to drop our stuff off into our new homes. No introduction, no explanation, just a drop off. As we made our way through the village, my group realized that we were the only people with out a home. When we brought this to Christa's attention, she made this confused face and said, "Oh, that's not a problem." The Habitat people didn't look so certain. The four of us followed a boy down a path to a cluster of "houses" and watched him open a door. Christa said that it would be just fine and none of the girls in my group knew what was going on. As far as we were concerned, we were intruding on these people's homes and just wanted to be as little trouble as possible. The room was about 8x10 and was simple as could be--concrete floors, concrete walls, wooden windows on either side and a tin roof. The walls were a beautiful baby blue and the spiders were a deep maroonish red. FYI--they do explode upon impact.

We were told that mattresses would be brought to the room and we left our things to meet up with the rest of the group. As we walked over to our site, we wondered whose room we had taken over and why they had never been introduced to us--we are staying in someone's home, intruding on their daily life, and are expected to be ok with that? All four of us were raised to greet and thank any one who showed us hospitality...the fact that we didn't even have that option was unnerving.

We walked up to the build site to figure out what our job was going to be. There was an existing structure with about 3 rows of bricks. We were to clear land, make bricks, mix concrete, bring the bricks to the site, and add to the foundation. As everyone stood around, I went to figure out how we could get started--we were only scheduled to work for about 4 hours. If we really hustled, we could get a lot done. If we stood around and wasted time, we would get nothing done. Christa immediately picks up a tool and asks if she can help...and proceeds to invent jobs. For the next 4 hours, we cleared land for no apparent reasons, spent our energy ripping out roots and kasava, and poured our sweat into doing made up jobs. I carried bricks on my head and cleared land while other students romped around in a mud pit, attempted to mix the mortar, and pretended to lay bricks. The girls on the program started stripping, the boys wrote all over their bodies, and half of the people stood around doing absolutely nothing. There were a few of us who worked ourselves to exhaustion, but for what? In the end we layed about one line of bricks, made a bunch of "bricks" that were obviously going to fall to pieces the minute they dried, and ended up covered in mud. When the rains started to flood upon our "work," I wanted to cry with exasperation. Why did I give up a weekend of my time to watch students make a fool of themselves? Why did we intrude on this village? Why did we disrupt the lives of these people? What are we trying to prove? That rich American's can prance into a village and "help?"

As my future is in the Non-Profit world, one can only imagine the sense of despair, disappointment, and hopelessness I feel right now. I saw first hand the inefficiency of NGOs in the developing world and it shook me to my very core. Is this the life path that I have chosen? A path of inefficiency, inadequacy, and disaster?

The most enjoyable part of the weekend was playing with some of the kids in the village. As their parents worked from dawn to dusk, the children raised the children--I saw seven year olds who acted like 20 year olds, 13 year olds who paraded around as adults. The facade immediately vanished when they asked us for our empty water bottles...but still. These kids had to grow up so fast.

The rain was relentless and probably ruined any "work" that we had attempted. Our room flooded, but the girls I was with were absolutely amazing. I'm so proud of us. We pooled together our resources and made it work. Our host family couldn't speak to us, but on the way out on Sunday morning we said, " Me da se!" Which means "thank you" in Twi. The woman jumped up and smiled and waved and said "Yoooo!" Despite the language barrier, that one gesture gave me hope that we hadn't intruded too much on their lives.

On Sunday, we had the opportunity to attend church. In a state of complete self-pity, I did not want to go--eventually I heard the service would be in English so I jumped on the bus when I got tired of listening to people complain. Of course, the service was in Twi, but the message is always the same, the actions just a bit different! We definitely did a few rounds of dancing, clapping, and introductions. At one point in time, an elderly woman sang praises--I haven't seen someone with such a genuine glow of happiness in a while. Even as she crawled on the floor, her eyes were filled with joy. I guess that made it all worth it.

On Sunday, I spoke to a little boy about my thoughts. He was a 3rd grader and wanted to get out of Ghana. He studied hard, received good marks, and dreamed of London. He's articulate and wise beyond his years....but he will most likely never leave that village. No matter how well he does in school, his education will not prepare him for the exams that ultimately determine his future. Unless a miracle happens, he will be destined to live the same cycle of his parents, their parents, and their parents. That's the life in the rural village--you wait, and wait, and wait until an opportunity happens to arise. Anyway. I asked him a bit about the Habitat project.

"How often to groups come to help build these houses?"
"Not very often...but hard to say."
"Do groups just show up here and pick up where another group left off?"
"Yes."
"And do these half built structures just sit here waiting for the next group?"
He paused for a moment and looked up at me with an expression I can only describe as resignation.
"Yes."
This confirmed my fears and suspicions. Habitat for Humanity isn't doing squat.

All in all, I'm still trying to come to grips with what happened this weekend. Apologies for such a depressing email.

To make it even more depressing, here's the story of little Shedrack.

Shedrack is Joe's nephew. I work with Joe at SHARP, he's the stats guy. Last Wednesday, Joe and George (another coworker) drove me to my night lecture at Legon as I had to stay at work late to finish up a presentation. Nosey as usual, I eavesdropped on Joe's phone conversation. His sister had taken a job and had placed her 1 year 4 month old son into a creche, a daycare. Wednesday was his first day. Shedrack went missing on Wednesday, and Joe was to go out with a search party. On Thursday they still hadn't found him. On Friday Joe was out of the office. Today I stopped in Joe's office to see if his nephew was ok. He told me to take a seat.

"We found him on Thursday evening..."
"Oh goo--"
"Dead.. Dead dead dead."
"WHAT?! You are joking. Please say you're joking."
"We found him in the bush one kilometre from the creche...dead."

Shedrack, a one year old boy, was found in the bush. An area that had been combed through by over 100 members of the community Wednesday night. He was found with no shoes, no socks, and clean feet. According to the owners of the creche, the creche was locked and he had been on the second floor. Imagine for a moment, a little one year old boy walking down a flight of stairs, opening a gate, and waltzing off into the bush. Exactly.

One of the men who worked at the creche eventually led them to his body. He claimed that he saw the little boy on Wednesday night crying out, "Mamma, mamma" on the side of the road. He claims that he believed the mother was defecating in the bush.

Now. Ghana is a country where a child is raised by the community. Allowing a Ghanaian child to leave Ghana by means of adoption is considered one of the greatest evils. In this community based country, how can a man, who KNEW that this child was missing, drive BY a crying child that he recognized? You've got to be kidding me.

Joe and the rest of the community told the mother that the child had died in the hospital. They couldn't bear to hell her the horrid details.

Tell me, please, tell me why on earth a one year old boy deserved such a horrible demise.

I just can't figure it out. It's times like these that I begin to lose hope in humanity.

Apologies, again, for being such a Debbie Downer.

Despite how disappointed I have been the last few days, by Habitat and by the Ghanaian community, I can't help but see this as an opportunity to DO something about it. I suppose that's what I'll have to do eventually. I can sit and write and complain about this all that I want, I can cry over Shedrack, I can cry over the downward cycle the village kids have been born into, but what GOOD is that going to do?

I hope you all take this to heart. Our lives are so privileged, it's not even funny. We have running water, electricity, bathrooms, and educational opportunities. We don't have to stop work at dusk, we aren't awoken by roosters before day break, and we can afford to procrastinate. When a child goes missing, the search effort is in full force on the police's behalf...they are paid enough to have incentive to do their jobs.

Consider your impact on the lives of others. Believe it or not, your very presence has an impact on another. As Gandhi so famously put, "Be the change you wish to see in the world." I can only hope that I attempt to measure up.

Love to you all,
J

The fisherman's wife

Before the sun has a chance to advance, the fisherman's wife attacks with the daily bustle. Gathering together her daily supplies, she stealthily picks her way around her darkened home. Her sleeping baby rests into the back of her spine, swaddled by vibrant colors, breath matched with breath.

She marches to the market, basket on head, baby on back: a delicate balance requiring expertise and strength. She makes her way along the well-trodden path, arriving to the field of ordered chaos just as dawn begins to break. Without waking her child, she spreads out her artillery: fish, okra, garden eggs and a handful of ripe green peppers. The winning combination for a nutritious meal sit at her station, awaiting combat.

The bargaining begins and she tirelessly surges ahead, advancing on the lethal rays of sun. By the end of the day, she gathers her cast off shells with her resting child, preparing to retreat for the night.

Upon reaching her home, she greets her husband with the profits from the day and a small meal. Making just barley enough to satisfy his fee, she and her child go to sleep.

Hungry.

Without earning more than her husband requires, the fisherman's wife is unable to purchase the food necessary to feed her or her child. Despite the abundance of nutrients existing before the day's work, she and her child must go hungry to survive in the future. If they go hungry today, perhaps they will eat tomorrow. Perhaps her husband will be less hungry.

This is the life of too many in the fishing villages of Cape Coast and Elmina. Despite the abundance of fresh fish and other goods, malnutrition is on the rise. In order to compete with the market economy, social hierarchy dominates: man, woman, then child. When a woman is unable to sell her goods at a high enough price, she lacks the money necessary to purchase additional food. She must feed her husband, the worker of the family, before herself or her child.

In a village in the north that has an abundance of wild chickens, it is said, "Not eating the chicken will kill the child. Eating the chicken will kill the family."

What is the price of a life?

Another.

The price tag on life means everything for this fisherman's wife. Her husband's life is worth the most, followed by hers, followed by her child's. In a country where the children are raised by the village, children are the first to starve.

Where are the ethics? What is the sense? When the food is available, why not feed oneself before attempting to bite into the market?

Because in a market economy, involvement in the market is equivalent (if not greater than) eating to survive. Without a place in the market, one can never advance in life. One's children will never be able to catch up. Rent will never be paid and human capital alone is not enough to survive. Without a presence in the market, one is doomed into a downward cycle. At least in the market, there is hope.

With the market in its current state, what is the sense? The fisherman's wife is competeing in an economy that is faltering, an economy that the entire world is scrutinizing, wondering what will happen next. Why are we trying to develop countries by integrating them into a failing system?

Why can a community not function by sustaining itself? If a community banded together to live off of its own goods, utilized the government's responsibility to educate its children, and worked in cooperation with, but not necessarily soley on, the market system, would advancement be possible? Is human capital enough?

While the trend is leaning towards development via microcredit, I can't help but wonder if our values are in order. Is it right to allow a child to starve in order to earn hope for the future? What is the sense in allowing the very generation we are trying to provide hope to wither away in starvation?

Will the battle with the market ever be won? Is there a chance, or are children around the world dying in vain?