Tam in the Gam- The Official Record

Between the laughing and the crying, through pouring rain and scorching heat, after dropping dead mice down the latrine and before cooking mac ‘n cheese for the millionth time to quell the unstoppable hunger pains, I actually did squeeze in some work.

I know I have tried to explain what I do, but I always seem to get off track with some story about a gecko secretly pooping on my bedsheet or my friend eating a boa constrictor or the ram that sits next to us on public transport. So here, I am posting an official record of the work I did. Just in case you wanted to know, just in case you wonder what I did with my time, and just in case you know of a job I can get based on my stunning qualifications.

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Volunteer Name: Ms. Minh-Tam (Tammy) Truong
Country of Service: The Gambia, West Africa

Ms. Minh-Tam (Tammy) Truong began her work with Peace Corps in Bolivia, South America but her service was interrupted when volunteers were evacuated from the country in September 2008 due to political unrest. She then elected to transfer to the Gambia, West Africa where she served as a volunteer in the Environment and Natural Resource Management program.

Training Summary

Ms. Truong arrived in country on October 23, 2008 and took part in a three month training program consisting of:

Technical Training and Trainee Directed Activities (136 hours): Covered environmental challenges faced in the Gambia and proactive agro-forestry practices, improved agriculture and horticulture techniques, natural resource management strategies, and environmental education skills.

Language Training (150 hours): Formal and informal Mandinka language lessons enhanced by living with a Mandinka host family. Rated at Intermediate-High language proficiency level at close of training.

Cross-cultural Training (20 hours): Increased awareness and understanding of Gambian culture, history and politics of the Gambia, Islam in the Gambian context, traditional beliefs and taboos, gender roles, and non-verbal communication.

Health Sessions (30 hours): Included preventative health measures, self-diagnosis, and basic medical treatment

Safety and Security Sessions (8 hours): Emphasized a lifestyle that reduces risk at home, work, and during travels, dealing with unwanted attention, and emergency action plans.


Work Summary

Ms. Truong was based in the coastal village of Sanyang, approximate population of 10,000. Her work included management and coordination of the Sanyang Women’s Community Garden and Skills Center and performing market research, informational surveys, and sales and marketing training in her role as a business consultant for Gambia is Good, a U.K. based NGO. She was also a fundraising coordinator for the Against Malaria bed net campaign raising $15,000. In her free time she completed various projects in graphic design and wrote blog entries detailing her Peace Corps experience to share with those back home.

Detailed Project Descriptions

Gambia is Good
Pro-poor horticulture marketing NGO linking rural farmers to the tourism industry. Promoting locally grown fruits and vegetables and reducing imported products, Gambia is Good helps its farmers move from subsistence agriculture to commercial enterprise to create sustainable livelihoods

Gambia is Good Business Consultant

Training of Sales and Marketing Team- Established customer database, led training sessions on sales techniques, customer service, marketing and advertising. Helped to improve inefficiencies.

Promotion and Sales- Designed display stand to increase impulse buys at point-of-sale, designed awards to recognize highest-volume vendors, and wrote script for radio ads.

New Item Feasibility and Customer Satisfaction Surveys- Designed and executed detailed surveys through interviews with purchasing officers, chefs, and general managers of major customers.

Competitor Benchmarking- Researched pricing, product availability, and selection of major competitors.

Agricultural Excursion Tour- Designed tour taking into account logistics, time-frames, and feasibility. Composed tour description for marketing product to tour operators.

World Bank Mango Processing Facility Project- Local Market Researcher

Conducted detailed market analysis seeking most compelling opportunities to maximize value of mangos, including both fresh and processed products. Results of market analysis used to carry out feasibility study and business plan to capture identified opportunities. Estimated local demand for mango products through interviews with importers, wholesalers, and retailers.

Agricultural Extension Support Officer- Liaison between Gambia is Good and Sanyang Women’s Community Garden and Skills Center, a key vegetable production site. Duties included:

Increasing technical capacities and horticultural capabilities among associated farmers

Coordinating with production managers to ensure timely sowing of correct varieties
Reporting activities and progress of producers to Gambia is good general manager and production managers

Sanyang Women’s Community Garden and Skills Center- Joint project between the Gam-Holland Foundation and Sanyang community aiming to provide income generating opportunities to increase rural female earning potential.

Managed various activities within the garden including inventory control, garden bed layout and demarcation, and supervision of reservoir and fence construction teams.

Nominated to Board of Directors as garden expanded from 4 to 12 hectares, and membership increased from 300 to 600 members. Planned long term objectives and membership rights and privileges. Instrumental in devising simple database management strategy for recordkeeping of member registration fees.

Represented the community organization at the Association of Small Scale Enterprises (ASSET). Networked with other member organizations, gaining access to tourism fairs for marketing and promotion and coordinating with Dutch agricultural expert to bring specialized trainings in improved gardening techniques

Wrote grants to secure additional funding for continuing expansion and improvement of garden and skill center.

Against Malaria Bed Net Campaign- Teamed with U.K. based organization Against Malaria, and U.S.’s Suto Yediya, initiative focused on raising money and building awareness to help prevent the transmission of malaria through distribution and proper instruction on the use of treated bed nets.

Co-chair of country’s web-based fundraising efforts. Personally raised over $1800 in an effort that yielded $15,000 over the course of five months.
Published newsletters to motivate fellow volunteers and track fundraising progress

Graphic Design Projects

Worked with local restaurant owner in tourism sector to plan and design menus for upcoming season

Performed edits and created publication design of “Freebee-The Gambia”, a beekeeping manual to be distributed to 30 communities.

Intercultural Exchange- Posted over 80 blog entries detailing life in a developing country through the eyes of a volunteer, initiating dialogue and facilitating cultural exchange to fulfill one of Peace Corps main goals. Online readership of several hundred individuals.

Only Africans Can Help Africa

*Disclaimer: You know how you have those down times but you pick yourself up and go on, and realize it's not that bad? This is one of those down times. It's not representative of my entire emotional state of being but I did want to include some honest truths along with all the rah-rah-schish-boom-bah that happens when you save the world. Though I do appreciate all of the concern and support from friends and family. I love you guys!

I am tired. I am tired of sweating all the time. Of oppressive heat and the feeling of suffocation. Of never having a clean house, clean kids, or clean me. I am tired of people who cannot see a different perspective, who expect me to assimilate 100% to their way of life but will make no concessions to mine. I am tired of a host mom who takes every opportunity to tell me in the most indirect, confusing manner ever that my boyfriend is not welcome in the compund because we are not married and I am living in sin.

I am tired of skinny, starving children. Of poor medical care. Of collecting rain water to drink. And of never having a COLD drink. Of communicating with only two year olds. Of trying to watch DVD’s to escape it all, but having to give up when they skip from all the dust in the air, and I just bought them that afternoon.

I am tired of the begging. Of people who feel they are entitled to everything I might own. Of everyone who won’t listen. Of everyone who cannot formulate a single original thought. Of being told that I should observe all Muslim customs and holidays, when clearly, I AM NOT MUSLIM.

I am tired of bathing outside with the mosquitoes. And waiting for the middle of the night to sneak out to use the bathroom cause the privacy fence around my latrine fell down. I’m tired of everything in my house filling with mold and mildew from the rains and of cleaning up after the mice and geckos who share my living space.

I am tired of testing my patience to the breaking point. I am tired of hot, dirty, unsafe public transport with a fat woman sitting on me and squishing my leg. I am tired of people yelling at me as I walk down the road and people who invade my personal space.

I am tired of being fed up with this country, these people, this life. I am just so tired. I want to go home.

-Journal Entry, September 2009

It’s not always rainbows and butterflies…sometimes it’s just a lot of mosquitoes and malaria pills and Gold Bond Medicated Body Powder. Somehow the founders of Peace Corps knew that two years is the breaking point for most people. That after two years pass, minor irritations have become major frustrations. It's the point where you can’t remember exactly why running off to live in the Bolivian mountainside or African bush was ever a good idea and when you decide that maybe the world doesn't need saving after all.

My Peace Corps journey started in August of 2007 and will come to an end on Nov 27, 2009, when at the stroke of midnight I will be carried away to the airport in the last Gambian taxi I might ever have to take in my entire life.

At three in the morning my plane takes off and whisks me away from the Gambia, out of the life that I was wildly thrust into a year ago. After a service filled with ups and downs, evacuations, surprise reunions and new beginnings, I must admit that I am exhausted yet still enormously thankful for the opportunity. I leave with no regrets, only a true belief in the words of President Obama when he says, “Only Africans can help Africa." (And maybe only Bolivians can help Bolivia.)

So as I leave the development of Africa to the Africans, my boyfriend and I are off to take romantic camel rides across the Sahara of Morocco, spend Christmas in Rome with my parents, and finish off somewhere in Greece. If you’d like to meet up anywhere, let me know. If not, I’ll see you back Stateside early next year. Party planning can start now!

Sensory Overload: Metros & Starbucks & McDonalds & More

Travel can be glamourous and exciting. Traveling in Peace Corps countries is often not. Taking advantage of my proximity to the developed world, I recently took a little trip to the land of milk and honey. Otherwise known as Spain.

We started our tour of Spain in France. I was fascinated by the pink house.


And the harbor.

And the food, once back in Spain. I found an old friend who happened to be living in Madrid. He invited us to his hometown where his parents took us out for a night of traditional San Sebastian eating. It's called Tapa Bar Hopping. You get tapas, little appetizer sized portions of food and drink, and you consume a little at one bar before heading to the next.

Obviously, Kasey and I have been a bit food deprived in the Gambia.

And ice cream melts under the African sun.

That's Alex, #1 Spanish Guide, buying us drinks at the world's #1 Bartender's bar.

We caught a glimpse of San Sebastian from above when we went to check out a castle.

And then the castle happened to have a thrilling roller coaster ride, which was in fact scarier than initially thought to be.

I then took a night train to Barcelona. My brother Tony met up with me for some traveling and quality time, and I must say I embarrased him with my Peace Corps habits. One being- always take advantage of the luxuries. That includes grabbing extra free mints at the hotels, buying food when it's available even if you're not hungry, and of course, stretching out in the extra leg room on public transport.

We saw one of the most amazing sights as we stepped off the metro in Barcelona- The Sagrada Familia Cathedral.

Tony loves the sights, I love the food. I also really really loved the human statues. I tricked this particular statue into moving several days in a row. And on the last day in Grenada I paid him a few Euro cents and he did a robot dance for me and blew me a kiss.

Lots of Gaudi, not gaudy, art. I learned this trick from a friend. You can now photoshop yourself into the picture and it will look like I have my arm around you. Oh, memories!

My bro Tony, after lots of European shopping, right before attending a meeting for Shopaholics Anonymous.

Food. Ham. I don't get ham in the Gam. It's Muslim.

We then went to see a palace in Grenada. Unfortunately we got lost heading up there. We did find a water spout.

And then we decided to have some fun with the water spout.

Eventually we got to see the palace after first finding out that the tickets we bought online were for the day before. And the only way to get in without paying again was to be elderly or disabled. The ticket man told me to cut off my arm and we could get in free. I opted not.

More palace-y stuff...

And a little more. The palace was too big for my taste.

And then we got lost going up to see the palace from the hillside at sunset. But it was beaUtiful.

Back in Madrid, I found that the Spanish are still making fun of President Hugo Chavez of Venezuela.

And then I got back to the serious business of eating delicious things.

And staring at delicious things...

And returning to the same delicious place for more delicious things.

We also got down to business doing what I'm kinda known for... Clubbing.

And clubbing some more.

We cracked ourselves up as we were riding the metros, eating, shopping, sightseeing, catching up, gossiping, and remembering the old times. And then, because he loves me so much, Tones put on the African outfit my host mom had made for him.

Trip summary:

Cost of bush taxis, ferry, horse cart and flight to Madrid: $450

Cost of incidentals while in Spain, including Starbucks, Dunkin' Donuts, tapas, sangria, chocolate eclairs, sushi, and Chinese buffets: $900

Sitting down to a McDonald's Happy Meal after eight months in the African bush: PRICELESS.

Saving The World, One Bednet At A Time

New Project: Fighting Malaria. And you can help. Check out my website, make a donation, and spread the word.

From all of us in the Gambs, THANK YOU!

http://www.AgainstMalaria.com/tammy

The U.S. eradicated malaria in the early 1950’s. It is now 2009, and the Gambia still has not. With the rainy season that brings beauty and life back to the land comes a darker side: the proliferation of the mosquito that transmits malaria and results in the loss of human lives. It’s a disease that infects almost every Gambian at least once in his or her life, and though there is a cure, for many it is painfully out of reach.


Peace Corps The Gambia is embarking on a campaign with the U.K. based organization Against Malaria. Our goal is to help prevent the transmission of malaria through distribution of and proper instruction on the use of treated bednets. Each net costs just under $5. We aim to raise $40,000, and with a dollar-for-dollar match from a generous donor this will allow the purchase of approximately 16,000 nets.


Epidemiological studies have suggested that for every 20 bednets used in Africa, 1 life is saved. Join me in helping to save 800 lives, one bednet at a time.

It's an Ugly World Out There: Part I

(Slightly dated, I know. But I'm trying.)

Bolivia Plot: Assassins or Victims?

By PAOLA FLORES and FRANK BAJAK – May 2, 2009

SANTA CRUZ, Bolivia (AP) — Airlifted in from Bolivia's western highlands, some two dozen elite officers in green helmets and flak jackets entered the Las Americas Hotel just before 4 a.m., disabled its surveillance cameras and stealthily made for the fourth floor. A bomb exploded. After 15 minutes of gunfire, three men were dead in their underwear on separate hotel room floors: A Bolivian-born Hungarian, an Irishman and a Romanian. Two of their comrades with ties to Croatia and Hungary were arrested in rooms down the hall.

A few hours later, President Evo Morales announced during a visit to Venezuela that an assassination plot against him, hatched by right-wing extremists and employing foreign mercenaries, had been foiled on his instructions."Before I left," he said, "I gave the order."The strange events of April 16 have only deepened political and social rifts in this nation of 10 million, where Morales, an Indian and a strident leftist, faces an intransigent foe in the light-skinned elite of this provincial capital.

Vice President Alvaro Garcia has blamed the alleged plot on "the fascist and racist right" of Santa Cruz. Morales' opponents in turn claim the government is trying to discredit them and bolster his campaign for re-election in December.The killings have also brought Bolivia to the attention of four European countries impatient for an explanation. Hungary, Ireland, Romania and Croatia have all asked for what the latter called "a full and impartial" accounting. Was it not possible to wait a few hours and capture the alleged conspirators peacefully at breakfast?"The Irish government has a legitimate right to seek the facts of how one of its citizens came to be killed by the security forces of another state," said Ireland's foreign minister, Michael Martin.

Yet more than two weeks after the raid, Bolivia has yet to provide persuasive details of the alleged conspiracy. It's a puzzle, in the words of Hungarian Foreign Minister Peter Balazs, in which the pieces don't fit.An indignant Morales at first resisted the calls for explanation. Then, at the United Nations on April 22, he said he was willing to accept an international investigation.

Such a probe would almost certainly begin with Eduardo Rozsa Flores, the only one of the slain men with clear warrior credentials.In September, he told a TV journalist in Hungary that he was returning home to organize a militia. You can only broadcast the interview, Rozsa said, if I don't return alive.

Born in Santa Cruz 49 years ago to a Hungarian father and Bolivian mother, Rozsa boasted in interviews and in a blog of serving as a translator for "Carlos the Jackal" when the Venezuelan terrorist was living in then-communist Hungary.

After the Berlin Wall fell, Rozsa became a minor celebrity in Croatia for commanding a brigade of foreign volunteers in its 1991 independence war. A poet, journalist and recent convert to Islam, he later starred as himself in "Chico," a biopic that won best film in Hungary's national cinema festival in 2002.

The other two slain men apparently lacked Rozsa's combat experience, if not his sense of adventure. So under what premise — and for what exactly — did he recruit them?Michael Dwyer was a 24-year-old Irish security guard whose family said he went to Bolivia in October looking for work. His Facebook pages show he liked to play Airsoft, a non-lethal military game like paintball where participants shoot nonmetallic pellets at each other.

Arpad Magyarosi, 29, was an ethnic Hungarian rock musician and schoolteacher from Romania who relatives said loved to travel. Neither of the men apparently told their families back home exactly what they were doing in distant Bolivia.

Authorities said Las Americas was the third four-star or better hotel in which the men had lodged.The raid's two survivors were flown to the highlands capital of La Paz and jailed without bail on terrorism charges after a closed hearing. They are Mario Tadic, a 51-year-old Bolivia-Croat comrade-in-arms of Rozsa from the Balkans, and Hungarian computer technician Elod Toaso.Bolivian Defense Minister Walker San Miguel said Rozsa recruited Toaso, 28, through the Szekler Legion, a right-wing group that promotes autonomy for Romania's ethnic Hungarians.

Hungary's ambassador, Matyas Jozsa, told The Associated Press after visiting Toaso in jail that the former bank employee may not have understood what he was getting into."My impression is that far from being a terrorist, he's fearful. Little by little he came to realize what he was involved in and that he'd made a big mistake," said Jozsa.He believes the slain men never had a chance to surrender and said Toaso saved himself by diving face-down to the floor, putting his hands on the back of his neck.

How Tadic survived is unclear. No relative has emerged, and a human rights lawyer who visited him said only that he was prepared to cooperate with authorities.The hotel's manager, Hernan Rossell, told the AP he arrived on the scene 10 minutes after the shooting ended and saw Rozsa's body on the floor, a revolver about 40 centimeters (16 inches) from his right hand, a bullet wound in his face. It was the only weapon Rossell said he saw on the fourth floor not wielded by the police, none of whom were injured in the raid.Julio Larrea, a police investigator, said the alleged mercenaries set off a C4 plastic explosives charge just before the shootout began. He said police recovered guns at the scene, though he didn't specify how many or where, except that a handgun and a silencer were found in Rozsa's room.

Authorities have offered no evidence that the slain men fired weapons. An autopsy done on Dwyer's badly decomposed body in Ireland determined he was killed by a single gunshot to the chest, but apparently little more.Many aspects of the case are still a mystery.On the day of the raid, Bolivian police confiscated about a dozen weapons at a convention center booth that they said the alleged assassins had rented through a local telecommunications company or a business fair. Prosecutor Marcelo Sosa later showed photos he said were found at the convention center booth of all the alleged mercenaries but Tadic posing with guns. In one, Dwyer has a pistol in each hand.

Police also said the men were responsible for a dynamite blast the day before at the home of the local Roman Catholic cardinal, in which nobody was hurt and minor damage incurred. They presented another man, Juan Carlos Gueder, who has been arrested on terrorism charges. Gueder told reporters he sold Rozsa a pistol, and that Rozsa said he planned to assassinate Santa Cruz's governor, Ruben Costas, to make him "a martyr."Garcia, the vice president, says the alleged mercenaries were planning to kill him and Morales, then "organize civilian groups for an armed resistance to violently seize power." Pro-autonomy groups in Bolivia are especially upset by Morales' plan to to seize fallow cropland from big landholders, many of whom are based in Santa Cruz, and "return" it to members of Bolivia's indigenous majority. However, the opposition vehemently denies involvement in any assassination plot.

The evidence authorities have provided to date is a three-minute video that Sosa says was obtained from an informant. He says it shows the three slain men lamenting missing a chance to bomb a boat on which Morales held a Cabinet meeting in Lake Titicaca in early April.The accompanying audio is unclear, however. Reporters who viewed it could make out words including "Titicaca," "wetsuit" and "explosives" but no clear narrative.

Another piece of the mystery surrounds the men's stay in Bolivia. The police investigator, Larrea, said Rozsa had taken Toasa and Tadic's passports from them so they couldn't travel.In the Sept. 8 interview where he laid out his plan to form a militia in Bolivia, Rozsa told Hungarian television anchor Andras Kepes that he intended to sneak in through Brazil. He said he was going not as an agitator, but as a defender."I have been called to organize the defense of the city and province of Santa Cruz," he said. "This isn't about me going to the Bolivian jungle to play Che Guevara." Guevara, a hero of Cuba's revolution, was executed in Bolivia in 1967 after failing to launch a communist uprising.

Rozsa insisted his mission was not "to attack La Paz or to help organize an attack on the capital and to drive away the president." Kepes said the videotaped interview could be considered Rozsa's "last will and testament."But more could be coming. Bolivian authorities seized five laptops in the raid.In the movie "Chico," playing himself, Rozsa quotes the 19th-century Cuban independence leader and poet Jose Marti in explaining to a Croat military officer why he's enlisting in another nation's fight."It's criminal to promote a war that can be avoided," he says, "and it is also criminal not to support a war that is inevitable."


Associated Press writers Carlos Valdez in La Paz, Pablo Gorondi in Budapest, Hungary, Alison Mutler in Bucharest, Romania, Snjezana Vukic in Zagreb, Croatia, and Shawn Pogatchnik in Dublin, Ireland, contributed to this report. Bajak reported from Bogota, Colombia.

It's an Ugly World Out There: Part II

http://www.whcaware.com/gambia/Gambia.htm

Changing the World, One Grandma at a Time

"Most of the things we try to accomplish in the Peace Corps go flying off the roof of the bus; in the end you're lucky if the thing rolls into the station at all. More than likely however you will end up sitting on the side of the road while the drunk busdriver tries to rig a new tire out of an old pair of socks and a cigarette filter. You hardly ever get where you wanted to go, but hey- in the end you're sitting on the side of the road enjoying a very nice sunset chatting it up with someone's grandma. And I personally would rather change the world one grandma at a time. "

~Britta Lilley Hansen, Returned Peace Corps Volunteer

Weddings and Babies and Puppies and More

Mbaa. That’s the word for “mom” in Mandinka. That’s what I call my host mother here. In the beginning I was a bit apprehensive and uncomfortable using that title with her. To me, it is a title bestowed solely upon the woman who raised and nurtured me. The woman who rubbed medicated oil on my stomach when I was sick, who tried to make me pretty for my first-grade class photo by putting my hair in braids but forgot I would run around too much at recess and end up looking like a disheveled nutcase by the time the camera flashed in my face. The woman who calls and gets so excited to hear about the new country, new foods, new clothes, new boyfriend, and new life I now have all the way in West Africa.

Though she is not my real mom, Mbaa is a pretty good substitute. She owns a fabric shop and dresses so beautifully that I feel like an African queen is entering the room each night she returns home and throws open the curtain door with a flourish. She speaks only Mandinka and delights at every new sentence I put together. My first week in site she asked me which fabric I liked best in her shop and then took it to make a new outfit for me to wear to meet her parents, since she wanted me to make a good impression in my “African Dress.”

Mbaa treats me as one of her own, as best she can, and with that comes the unavoidable conversations about my marital status. She was so excited to meet my boyfriend Matt, or Lamin, as they know him here. She wants to know if I will marry him. She wants to know whether I want her plot of land next door so once Lamin and I are married, we can build our own compound here in the Gambia and be Mbaa’s neighbors. She asked me if she could throw a naming ceremony for my firstborn, and if Lamin and I would name the child after her. I told her “Mundow” was too difficult a name. She told me not to worry, her real name is Hawa.

Once we settled on that, I regrettably had to inform her that the birth of my first child would probably not be in the Gambia, and that I would probably not be present for the naming ceremony. “EHHHH!” she told me. Not a problem. Just let her know when the child is born and she would have a tiny little outfit made and sent to America so I could have a proper Gambian naming ceremony there, while she threw one here, in my honor.

I must admit, I'm a little flattered. I think I'm getting this integration thing down. That little exchange above, as you can imagine, has to be one of the most tedious conversations ever! Not for me, but for Mbaa. Imagine the patience required to have some strange visitor sitting on your couch, not understanding what you say, repeating each phrase out of your mouth in her own version of three-year-old Mandinka. Then each time this pale-skinned girl who glows in the dark interprets incorrectly, you have to try to speak slower, with simpler words so that maybe she can figure out what the conversation is even about.

I always have to give this woman credit. She certainly does try. I don’t know if I would have the same patience. I am the first Peace Corps volunteer living with her family so much of the time she does not know what to make of me or what to do with me, I am just so strange. But isn't that what it's about? Uncomfortable silences that stretch so long they become comfortable. Weird exchanges that take place so often they become normal. It's all part and parcel of volunteer life.

At any rate, in the event that I for some reason decide I will take her up on the offer, I got a glimpse of what a wedding in the Gambia would look like. The following are photos from my host cousin Adama’s wedding. I am still puzzled at why almost all of the 1000 attendants were women. Equally puzzling was the fact that I never did identify the groom. And the unveiling of a new bedroom set in the middle of the compound was later explained to be a part of the dowry, a gift from the groom to my host mom. Though I still don’t understand that either, since she is technically the bride’s aunt, not her mother. I guess some things in this life just can’t be explained.

Over 1000 people showed up for the wedding. Speakers stacked right outside my door. Partying stopped at 2 in the morn. Rather early, actually.

Drums. Dancing. Drums and dancing.

African Dance Queen teaching me how to dance.

Asian-American Dance Queen turning it back around on them!

Kids in their matching outfits, known as "asobees." You dress according to your age group. Mine consists of many women with infants and toddlers. Apparently I missed the boat.

The older lady asobees.

Where's Waldo? I mean, Kaddy.

Hint: She glows in the dark. (They actually told me I did.)

My host bro Lamin with my host niece Sally. I loved her outfit and wanted to get it copied. Then I realized I would be dressing like a two-year-old.

Host sis Asa who thinks I am hilarious. She was once in a near death state with malaria when I came in the house. I didn't realize she was sick she was so animated. Then she told me it was only because I was so funny she couldn't help but laugh and forget she was sick. She got well again soon. Apparently malaria is not always fatal. Whew.

The bridal party. Or so I assumed. The third girl in with the Macy Gray hair is my sister Rohey, Sally's mom.

Bride on the left, Rohey on the right. Look guys, one day that could be me!

I'm So Out Of My Element I'm In It.

Skin fungus. Parasites. Flies that hatch from your body. Relentless harassment. Language barriers. Children chasing after you. Rocks flung as you ride your bike. Faces peeping through doors and windows to glimpse the Toubab. Latrines and bucket baths. The same conversation over and over and OVER. Hiding in the hut because you are so overwhelmed and just wish for one second, just ONE second, that you could be in a world with McDonalds and Chinese buffets and supermarkets and hot showers.

All that in mind, does one have to be absolutely crazy, absolutely mad to choose this lifestyle? Of course every one wants to know (at times, myself included), why do I do Peace Corps? How could I have transferred knowing what it’s like? How do I get by and continue on and most of all, how could I love it?

Really, this is a very difficult question to answer. You know when a friend tells you about something funny that happened and you don’t really laugh, and they finish lamely with a “Guess you just had to be there?” Sometimes I feel that’s what Peace Corps is like. It’s not something that can necessarily be explained, it’s something that must be lived and felt. However, because I do want to impart to you why I continue to do what I do, I will describe it the best I can.

My journey with Peace Corps actually started back in second semester of my junior year in college. At that time I decided that in order to land my dream job with P&G, I really needed to have some international experience on my resume. The quickest and easiest route was to do a trip over spring break, and so that’s what I did. I heard about the Timmy Foundation through a friend and learned that there would be a building brigade going to Honduras. I signed up and went. I had always heard that these trips could be “life-changing experiences.” I wasn’t really interested in all that. I just wanted to go abroad in the most painless way possible.

Too bad I met one of the most beautiful souls on earth during that trip. Too bad he inspired me to the point that I hastily changed school plans in order to study abroad first semester the following year. Too bad I went back to Honduras that next year with near-fluent Spanish and realized just what an impact I had made on Walter, and Walter had made on me, and how that one relationship could be generalized across so many other relationships with the children I met at this all-boys school/farm/orphanage.

It’s hard to put in words what happened there, but the best that I can describe it, at the risk of sounding insanely cheesy, is that it was an experience that made my heart and soul sing. Honduras was the first time I felt it; Peace Corps Bolivia was the first time I lived it.

Peace Corps is not only about providing technical assistance, it also focuses on cultural exchange. That is one thing that differentiates this organization from other aid organizations and NGO’s. Aside from the fact that volunteers are paid only what the average host country national earns (meaning that we often rely on hand-me-down clothing from exiting volunteers, regularly wear shirts dotted with holes and pants that have obviously seen better days, bargain with anyone and everyone, and count each and every penny- dalasi actually- before stepping foot into a “regular” restaurant), volunteers can easily be distinguished from other Toubabs by their level of cultural integration.

In other words, we speak local languages and observe the traditions and customs of the people around us. We don’t get to live in the nicest areas of town, drive around in air-conditioned cars, or hang out exclusively with other ex-pats. We do, however, sit in overcrowded vehicles with crying babies placed into our laps whether we know the child or not. We hitchhike. We live in small communities and rural villages where we have to try as best we can to communicate with those around us.

It’s that cultural exchange that keeps me coming back for more. One week in Honduras, one month in Vietnam, one semester in Costa Rica, one year in Bolivia. Each time I go abroad and immerse myself in the life and language of people so different from myself I walk away with a greater understanding of not just who they are, but who I am. It provides a higher level of awareness and insight that I would struggle to achieve while in the U.S. And it would take ten times longer, if it happened at all.

Once I discovered how much joy I gained from going and out and seeing what the world has to offer, and what I can offer to the world, I just didn’t want to miss out. Extreme hunger pains aside, despite hot weather and crowded, unpredictable, sweaty transport, I must admit that when my little host brother walks in my hut each morning grinning his little smile with the missing two front teeth, I can’t help but smile right back.

Ultimately, Peace Corps reminds me that life should be lived. It should make you laugh. It can make you cry. It should make you learn and grow. It surprises you. It frustrates, it puzzles, it delights. It shows that even with the different languages and cultures, customs and religions, the different levels of wealth and education, there are common threads that link us all and at the end of the day we really can sit down and brew a cup of attaya tea and chat. We have so much to share and to gain from one another.

Whether it be with random strangers or with the host family, I think that on both sides, the impressions made will last a lifetime. I took the dive into Peace Corps and day in and day out, I find myself in situations where I’m so out of my element, I’m in it. And though sometimes I would die for a Big-Mac, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The Real Deal

Straight from the source, check out real Peace Corps life.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMI-tsTLVcw


(This guy also happens to be my love interest. Whatcha think 'bout THAT?)

All in a Day's Work

Survey Responses: Britta Hansen (aka The Greatest Sitemate in the WORLD!)

1. Who are you and how did you find my blog?

Hey Tammers Its Britta. I found YOU one day walking around Samaipata. ME-"Hmmm I wonder who that Asian chick is over by Amboro tours... no she couldn't be PeaceCorps, those pants are way to to hot and ummm, are those highlights in her hair... Definitely not PeaceCorps." You- "O my god, who is that dirty hippie with those nasty stinky chacos, yuck, oh god i hope shes not in PeaceCorps too. What would we talk about..." Us, two days later "Holy shit you are the funniest person ever, oh my god I cant believe we just ate so many pancakes!" Thats how i met you, fell in love and found your blog!

2. What were you in the middle of doing just now? (If it was eating a McDonald’s cheeseburger and fries, OMG AM I JEALOUS!!!).

I was just posting some photos on FB from a totally fun weekend up at Lusten, Old friends good times. And i thought i would check out if anything new was going on with you.

3. What burning question do you have for me that I have not yet answered?

I want to know... a day in the life... do a post about just an average day in your life..."got up at bla bla ate rice with hot shit on it, had lots of latrine time, Thank god for the newsweeks..." you know all the little stuff you do each day.

4. How many times have you laughed, cried, and/or thrown up as you have read my blog?

I have totally cried, sorry its true, i miss you and honestly im a bit jealous that you are doing all this way badass cool fun stuff in AFRICA no less, and here i am driving my ass down 94 everymorning at 730 to go to work with the rest of the shmucks. I have laughed too, and worried about your poor little stomach.

5. What is the best/worst/funniest recent moment in your life for which I have been absent?

Oh so many moments you have missed, like a fun evening at the VFW on Hennepin, whoa. The rest of Bolivia. We will have time to make many more memories.

6. And last of all, what do you miss most about me???

Again so much i miss about you, I miss your gate with the ants marching across the top, and your little garden that could, i miss staying up late and talking about boys, and eating Kilos brownies, you teaching me how to be a lady, and me teaching you how to set up a tent and that a head lamp can be used for more than a reading light! Mostly i miss your beautiful face and smile, and the way you make me laugh and think about the world... now im crying again... Im so happy for you and i will try to skype call you as soon as i can.


A Day in the Life.

Señora, this one's for you!!!


I awaken to the sound of crowing roosters outside my door, the squeak of the well wheel as water is drawn, and the shouting from a wide awake host family who has been up since the dawn prayer call.

Next, pit stop at the pit latrine. That little block in the background? My shower.

The two sweet little host family kids, Sally and Njaka, check up on me each morning. They do things like take one bite of a cashew apple, just one, and leave the rest neatly on my table and hope I don't notice.

After a breakfast of sugary tea and bread with unsalted butter, I strap on my Peace Corps standard issue helmet and head out to work at the women's garden.

There are about 300 women in this 12 hectare garden, with 300 more to join soon. I was recently named to the board of directors. This consists of endless meetings to determine rules and bylaws, a lot of screaming in Mandinka that I don't understand, exhaustion, frustration, yet the tiniest glimmer of hope that we might be getting somewhere.

These women are working on a vegetable production trial that I headed up. It was my first effort in which I ran the show. And I think they understood maybe 10% of what I said. But we got it done!

Manual labor, backbreaking labor, more manual labor. That's what gardening here is all about.

Around 1:00 I head home for lunch. The bike ride home includes children screaming "HELLO! GIVE ME PEN! GIVE ME MINTY!" And from the ones that know me, "KADDYYYY BOJANGGGG!!!!" Also there are the cops who harass me and try to pull me over, on my bike no less. The alleged infraction? Not saying hello. The real reason? To ask if I will marry them. To which I respond to with a tongue lashing in Mandinka, at which time they decide I would probably be too much trouble as a second wife.

Home for lunch. Everyday, rice & sauce. Leaf sauce, peanut sauce, ground up fish in sauce...

After lunch, back to work. The family has a 12-year-old maid. I hate making her wash clothes. But so far I can handle only washing the unmentionables, since hauling water is hard work. And I have a lot of garden plots to care for.

Carrying that water back G-style baby!

It's kinda hot here. (Time is inaccurate. It's about 2:00 by now. I bought a satellite clock that only works in the U.S. It is so confused here.)

Washing and washing. Wish I had that nice little running tap I had in the old country.

My clothesline, in the bath area, tied to a fence made of coos stalk that I had to paint with motor oil to prevent complete consumption and destruction by termites. But not before they had eaten enough that people can kinda peek through.

more garden plots. You first double dig to allow aeration. Then add leaves for nitrogen and soil improvement. Then add manure that I collect for half an hour a day with a shovel and a bucket by jumping my wall to get next door.

They call me an ag-fo supastar. I no longer have a little garden that could. These days, my little garden ROCKS IT!

But even supastars get tired. Break!

Breaktime is cashew hunting time. Quite the delicacy. They are delicious, provide tons of vitamin C, and replenish a dehydrated body. Yum.

Tossing rocks to knock down a cashew. My aim sucks. I toss about 15 to knock down one.

Sweet success.

Done with work for the day. I live near the beach, better APROVECHAR!

Kids chasing. They like to try to catch the Toubab. Remember the staging videos where volunteers have rocks flung at them by the native children? It's no joke...

Sand.....

Cows....

Gardens...

A quick 10 min ride and I arrive at the beach, a little thirsty. Eight cents later, problem solved.

Destination: Paradise Beach. And in tribute to those who did, those who are, and those who wish they still were, I go on livin' the dream. Just livin' the dream......