The REDES Project held its first regional TOT (Training of Trainers) conferences on April 20-23, in 5 locations throughout Mozambique. My friend Megan (also the REDES Curriculum Director) and I were in charge of the Gaza TOT in Macia. Overall, everything went well although the process of planning and executing a 3-day event for 19 Mozambican facilitators and 6 PCV's is not an easy task.
I should give you a brief explanation here. In past years, REDES conferences were always held in super nice resorts with fancy buffet meals, and the participants received absurdly high per diems.
This year, with the challenge of introducing this big event into our currently existing budget and the concept of sustainability in mind, we voted to cut down on event costs in a variety of ways.
First, we booked internatos (school dorms)instead of ritzy hotels. Second, we cut down significantly on the per diem amounts. (At an event in which food and lodging is all provided, the participants really don't need to receive large sums of cash.) Third, we opted to create our own menu instead of using the venues'. This meant we had to find our own cooks and buy all of the food materials in advance.
From a efficiency and cost-cutting standpoint, all of these changes make sense, right?
But from the viewpoint of a Mozambican who has participated in REDES conferences and other I-NGO sponsored events in the past, this was outrageous!!!!
We heard our first complaints almost immediately. "This is nothing like Barra Lodge," A participant complained to another, making reference to last year's beach-side resort venue.
At snack time, one of the older REDES facilitator called me over. "I don't drink tea," she said. "Well, have some coffee," I replied. She said she only drank juice or soda. I responded that each participant was already receiving one soda for lunch and one soda for dinner, and did she really need three sodas a day? She sniffed at my suggestion that she drink some water. Another woman handed me back a package of crackers and asked for a different kind. Megan and I felt like everyone's personal empregadas, to the point that one day we ate alone in the kitchen so we could get some peace.
The biggest uproar came when meal time arrived the second day. "Matapa for lunch?" Some participants griped (Matapa is a standard Mozambican dish, made with greens and coconut milk.) Reading between the lines, this meant: WHERE'S OUR MEAT??? Apparently, it is preposterous to withhold protein (chicken, beef, fish, etc.) at a conference, despite the fact that the dishes we were serving are ones they eat every single day at home. The announcement of beans and rice for dinner was met with indignation. One woman tried to rally up a group to leave and get dinner elsewhere, although their plan was foiled by lack of transport.
The complaints got so bad that at the end of the second day, we had to confront the problem head-on. Megan explained to the group that REDES is currently at the end of the fiscal year and under budget constraints, and asked the participants to be understanding of what we can offer them. Afterwards, we didn't hear that as many complaints- although the participants probably just switched to bitching in Changana. Even so, five out of six of the feedback forms brought up housing, food, per diem, or all three.
You'd think that the opportunity to learn and grow as a facilitator would be enough motivation to be at a conference. But who am I kidding? How does KNOWLEDGE compare to continental buffets and a wallet full of change?
Years and years of outside funding has created a sense of entitlement and donor dependency. How can we ever expect to turn over our programs to host country nationals one day if things don't change?
----
http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.1365-3156.2010.02607.x/full (Related reading about per diem dependency)
Monday, April 23, 2012
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Blog About Malaria Month (BAMM 2012)
When it rains, the unpaved sandy roads of my community collect pools of water that can be so wide as to make the route impassable. Some evaporate quickly. Others, sheltered by the shade of trees, sit for weeks, are stomped through by cows on their way to pasture, collect black foam and tadpoles at the edges, become foul-smelling swamps before they eventually shrivel into nothing.
Then they come.
The mosquitoes.
There are so many, they are so desperate, they will bite through my shirt and my jeans until I am covered, and I feel like I left the house naked. Being in Mozambique is like camping all the time, even in my own home. My living room wall is dotted with smashed mosquito corpses that I don't bother to wipe off. Some days during the rainy season get to be so bad that I put on bug repellant so I can sit in my house in peace. Or I'll run to the only safe zone- under my mosquito net. A bed with a mosquito net is an amazing luxury, but one that not all people here have.
In Sub-Saharan Africa, malaria is the number one killer of children under 5. It also presents a huge danger to pregnant women, impacting fetal growth and development. It's so prevalent here that people think everything is malaria. There is a running joke among PCV's that you could have a toothache and Mozambicans would tell you it's malaria. It's common for people to say, upon returning to work, "Oh I was at home for the last few days because I wasn't well. I had malaria" and everyone nods and clucks in sympathy. Normal.
A child with a fever is usually assumed to have malaria ("guilty until proven innocent") because it's better to be safe than sorry. Anyone who comes into the hospital complaining of a headache, chills, or fever is immediately sent to take a malaria test, which involves pricking the finger, depositing a drop of blood onto a stick that looks like a pregnancy test, and waiting for a line to form to confirm negative or positive. The malaria-positive patient is sent home with a myriad of pills to take for the next couple of weeks.
So much money is spent annually on malaria treatment But the thing is... Malaria is so easy to prevent! If everyone slept under a treated mosquito net, removed stagnant water around their homes, and sought treatment at the hospital sooner rather than later, malaria wouldn't stand a chance. The problem? Lack of information.
This month, I gave a lesson on malaria at CACHES and was surprised to find that the kids knew very little about it. They didn't know the symptoms, or the groups most vulnerable to getting it, or even where mosquitoes come from. And yet, they all claimed to have been to the hospital to do a malaria test at least once in their lives. They receive tons of information about HIV, but little or none about the most common illness that impacts their community! Using candy as a motivator, I coaxed them through trivia game that taught them the basics about malaria. A week later I gave them a pop quiz on what I'd taught and astonishingly most of them had retained the information. I attribute all my success to tootsie rolls.
April 25 is World Malaria day. That week, I will ask all of my CACHES kids to share with at least one friend or family member what they know about malaria.
Maybe one day, a child won't die every 30 seconds of malaria in Sub-Saharan Africa. Children and adults alike will be able to sit outside under a majestic African night sky free from mosquitoes and malaria. Like that awesome scene from The Lion King, but better.
Then they come.
The mosquitoes.
There are so many, they are so desperate, they will bite through my shirt and my jeans until I am covered, and I feel like I left the house naked. Being in Mozambique is like camping all the time, even in my own home. My living room wall is dotted with smashed mosquito corpses that I don't bother to wipe off. Some days during the rainy season get to be so bad that I put on bug repellant so I can sit in my house in peace. Or I'll run to the only safe zone- under my mosquito net. A bed with a mosquito net is an amazing luxury, but one that not all people here have.
In Sub-Saharan Africa, malaria is the number one killer of children under 5. It also presents a huge danger to pregnant women, impacting fetal growth and development. It's so prevalent here that people think everything is malaria. There is a running joke among PCV's that you could have a toothache and Mozambicans would tell you it's malaria. It's common for people to say, upon returning to work, "Oh I was at home for the last few days because I wasn't well. I had malaria" and everyone nods and clucks in sympathy. Normal.
A child with a fever is usually assumed to have malaria ("guilty until proven innocent") because it's better to be safe than sorry. Anyone who comes into the hospital complaining of a headache, chills, or fever is immediately sent to take a malaria test, which involves pricking the finger, depositing a drop of blood onto a stick that looks like a pregnancy test, and waiting for a line to form to confirm negative or positive. The malaria-positive patient is sent home with a myriad of pills to take for the next couple of weeks.
So much money is spent annually on malaria treatment But the thing is... Malaria is so easy to prevent! If everyone slept under a treated mosquito net, removed stagnant water around their homes, and sought treatment at the hospital sooner rather than later, malaria wouldn't stand a chance. The problem? Lack of information.
This month, I gave a lesson on malaria at CACHES and was surprised to find that the kids knew very little about it. They didn't know the symptoms, or the groups most vulnerable to getting it, or even where mosquitoes come from. And yet, they all claimed to have been to the hospital to do a malaria test at least once in their lives. They receive tons of information about HIV, but little or none about the most common illness that impacts their community! Using candy as a motivator, I coaxed them through trivia game that taught them the basics about malaria. A week later I gave them a pop quiz on what I'd taught and astonishingly most of them had retained the information. I attribute all my success to tootsie rolls.
April 25 is World Malaria day. That week, I will ask all of my CACHES kids to share with at least one friend or family member what they know about malaria.
Maybe one day, a child won't die every 30 seconds of malaria in Sub-Saharan Africa. Children and adults alike will be able to sit outside under a majestic African night sky free from mosquitoes and malaria. Like that awesome scene from The Lion King, but better.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Terra da Boa Gente
Since being back, I've been busier than ever (excluding the week of post-vacation depression). This week has been the one of the best community integration experiences ever. Nothing like eating xima and greens with a my coworkers for a week straight to convince them that I'm really one of them. I've even started tying capulanas around my waist like the African women do, even if it is because I'm too lazy to put on pants.
On Saturday evening, I was invited to a birthday dinner for a neighbor girl who, to be honest, I'm pretty sure I'd never spoken more than a few words to. But I was flattered to be asked to attend, even if she did also want to borrow my table and two chairs. And, as soon as I agreed to go, she said, "Great! By the way, I'm charging money for food." But all in all, I figured it wouldn't be bad to get to know some of my neighbors. (Considering that my next door neighbor Orquidia and her daughter Tania- my favorite kid and practically my best friend in Moz- suddenly picked up and moved out, leaving me all alone in the quintal.) I was told dinner would be at 8, so I foolishly showed up exactly at 8. I sat with the women cooking around the fire ("We're just finishing up" they told me) until my eyes burned from the smoke and I was banished inside to watch tv (Brazilian soap operas).
At 10pm, I was told that the food was just about ready but that the women were then "all going to bathe and get ready for the party." I must have looked tragic (by the way, my normal schedule includes dinner at 6pm and bed at 8pm) because they thrust a plate of rice at me and told me to eat something for now. I'd made the mistake of brandishing my camera, which meant that I was now officially the party photographer, and I couldn't just quietly escape to go to bed. After much prodding (women are the same everywhere; they take forever to get ready), the women were finally ready for their photographs to be taken- at 10:30pm.
At 10:45 I was happily skipping out the door to go home when I was called back. "We need you to take pictures of the birthday girl cutting the cake." (*Inner groan*) How could I forget the mandatory cutting-the-cake photo? There are certain poses that Mozambicans photograph at ALL parties, and they include: cutting the cake with your partner, feeding each other a piece of cake with your arms intertwined, opening a bottle of champagne after sufficiently shaking it up for effect, and sipping out of each others' champagne glasses with your arms intertwined. Before this all happened, however, there was a huge debate amongst the girls. The birthday girl wanted to wait for her boyfriend to cut the cake with her, but at 11pm he had not yet showed. One of her friends was adamant that the cake be cut anyway, because the photographer was leaving. "How are you going to remember your 20th birthday if you don't take a photo with the cake?" In the end, the cake was cut with the help of the birthday girl's brother and then I was dragged around to take photos of her with all of her guests. I passed out as soon as I got home at 11:15pm. And I didn't even get a decent dinner. But I'd like to think that I made a girl's 20th birthday memorable, by taking the photo of her cutting the cake. Hah.
On Easter Sunday, I went to church with my friend and coworker Antonieta, who lives "lá" in a bairro called Chiconela, which is about 20 minutes behind Chicumbane by car. The Presbyterian church service was about 3 hours, replete with singing in Changana and dancing. Afterwards, Antonieta and I went back to her house for a lunch of mandioca, rice, and chicken curril, which is a real treat. Some random old lady we passed on the road was so pleased to hear that I'd gone to church in her bairro that she bought me a soda. I was loaded up with oranges from Antonieta's yard upon my departure back to Chicumbane. While I was sitting with Antonieta during lunch, a car of relatives arrived for a visit. Antonieta immediately got up and offered them her plate, then went and retrieved two more plates for the others. I suspect she hadn't anticipated feeding this many people, but she freely gave what little she had prepared and ate what was left. (If she ate at all; now that I'm thinking about it, I don't remember seeing her eat after that.)
On my way home, I stopped by to visit a lady by the market who always greets me with "Amiga!" when I walk by. I was immediately offered cake and soda, and because it's rude to refuse food, drank my 3rd coca-cola of the day. My stomach hurt that evening, but I guess there are worse things than being offered too much to eat and drink.
Mozambique has a nickname- "Terra da Boa Gente" (Land of Good People) and the more time I spend with the communities, the more I see this to hold true. Their hospitality and their generosity are really amazing, especially considering how poor they are. It's taken me this long into my service to make friends and really feel like a part of the place I live, but I guess that's the beauty of being in Peace Corps and living within a community for two years. It takes just that long not only for a community to accept and embrace you, but for you to be ready to be accepted and embraced by the community.
-----
Notable conversations I've had in the past few days:
I'm sitting with a group of women who are cooking. One lady asks me when I go back to my homeland and how long it takes to get there. I tell her two days. "Two days?!" She says incredulously. "By airplane??" Another girl cuts in, speaking very knowledgeably: "Yes, don't you know? Planes have bathrooms and TV's and everything!" I nod my agreement and tell them that two days isn't so bad. Knowledgeable girl chimes in,"Yeah, if I had to be on a plane for two days I would just spend my time hanging out at the pool." Doh. Not so knowledgeable after all.
I'm in the car with one of Antonieta's nieces who asks me if I have a boyfriend.
Me: I'm married.
Niece: Do you have children?
Me: No.
Niece: Why not?
Me: Because I live here and my husband lives in America.
Niece: How can you survive being apart from him?
Me: Well, he's been here a few times to visit.
Niece:And you don't have "relations"with him?
Me: Um, he's my husband so...
Niece: Then why don't you have kids?
Me: Because I don't want any right now!
Niece: You can have mine.
Me: No thank you.
Niece: You don't want him?
Me: I'm going to have my own, eventually.
Niece: You're going to get old.
Me: Not anytime soon, I'm only 23.
Niece: (disgusted) 23 and without kids?
Me: It's not possible right now, since I'm so far away from my husband.
Niece: There are men here.
Me: But...I'm not married to them.
Niece: You can borrow mine.
Me: No...
Niece: Why not? It's all the same.
Me: Not exactly.
Niece: But your husband has a girlfriend in America.
Me: No he doesn't.
Niece: But he sleeps with other women?
Me: No he doesn't.
Niece: ….......
Driver of the car: It's not their tradition.
Me: Exactly! It's not our tradition.
I stop by my neighbor's house one morning and am greeted by a man I've never seen before, some relative that's home for the Easter holidays from South Africa. The following conversation occurs in English.
(After the mandatory greetings and how-are-yous)
Man: So you have a dog.
Me: Yes, two actually.
Man: Your dog, he eat my chicken.
Me: (Thinking: oh no, not again) Oh?
Man: Yes, I bought two chicken and he eat both of them.
Me: Should I pay for it?
Man: No, you won't pay for it. It's too expensive. I will kill that dog.
Man's brother: He's joking.
Man: I will kill that dog.
Me: Please don't do that...
Man: Why? He cause me problem. I will kill him. (pointing at dog in the yard chasing a chicken) You see?
Me: That's not my dog.
Man: I will kill all of them.
Me: Wow. Please don't do that. I'll pay for the chicken
Man: You will pay for it? It is 140.
Me: Yes, I will pay for it.
Man: (bursting out laughing) Okay, I won't kill the dog. It is because you are a good person. I was going to kill the dog. Everything was ready to kill the dog, but I will not do it because you are a good person.
Me: (Relieved and terrified) Oh, well, thank you?
Man: You are good person, not like the last one. She was not friendly, she did not like to be with the people. She was not good in her heart.
Me: Well...okay...thank you... Nice to meet you.....
And from this conversation I walked away with the importance of being nice to your neighbors.
On Saturday evening, I was invited to a birthday dinner for a neighbor girl who, to be honest, I'm pretty sure I'd never spoken more than a few words to. But I was flattered to be asked to attend, even if she did also want to borrow my table and two chairs. And, as soon as I agreed to go, she said, "Great! By the way, I'm charging money for food." But all in all, I figured it wouldn't be bad to get to know some of my neighbors. (Considering that my next door neighbor Orquidia and her daughter Tania- my favorite kid and practically my best friend in Moz- suddenly picked up and moved out, leaving me all alone in the quintal.) I was told dinner would be at 8, so I foolishly showed up exactly at 8. I sat with the women cooking around the fire ("We're just finishing up" they told me) until my eyes burned from the smoke and I was banished inside to watch tv (Brazilian soap operas).
At 10pm, I was told that the food was just about ready but that the women were then "all going to bathe and get ready for the party." I must have looked tragic (by the way, my normal schedule includes dinner at 6pm and bed at 8pm) because they thrust a plate of rice at me and told me to eat something for now. I'd made the mistake of brandishing my camera, which meant that I was now officially the party photographer, and I couldn't just quietly escape to go to bed. After much prodding (women are the same everywhere; they take forever to get ready), the women were finally ready for their photographs to be taken- at 10:30pm.
At 10:45 I was happily skipping out the door to go home when I was called back. "We need you to take pictures of the birthday girl cutting the cake." (*Inner groan*) How could I forget the mandatory cutting-the-cake photo? There are certain poses that Mozambicans photograph at ALL parties, and they include: cutting the cake with your partner, feeding each other a piece of cake with your arms intertwined, opening a bottle of champagne after sufficiently shaking it up for effect, and sipping out of each others' champagne glasses with your arms intertwined. Before this all happened, however, there was a huge debate amongst the girls. The birthday girl wanted to wait for her boyfriend to cut the cake with her, but at 11pm he had not yet showed. One of her friends was adamant that the cake be cut anyway, because the photographer was leaving. "How are you going to remember your 20th birthday if you don't take a photo with the cake?" In the end, the cake was cut with the help of the birthday girl's brother and then I was dragged around to take photos of her with all of her guests. I passed out as soon as I got home at 11:15pm. And I didn't even get a decent dinner. But I'd like to think that I made a girl's 20th birthday memorable, by taking the photo of her cutting the cake. Hah.
On Easter Sunday, I went to church with my friend and coworker Antonieta, who lives "lá" in a bairro called Chiconela, which is about 20 minutes behind Chicumbane by car. The Presbyterian church service was about 3 hours, replete with singing in Changana and dancing. Afterwards, Antonieta and I went back to her house for a lunch of mandioca, rice, and chicken curril, which is a real treat. Some random old lady we passed on the road was so pleased to hear that I'd gone to church in her bairro that she bought me a soda. I was loaded up with oranges from Antonieta's yard upon my departure back to Chicumbane. While I was sitting with Antonieta during lunch, a car of relatives arrived for a visit. Antonieta immediately got up and offered them her plate, then went and retrieved two more plates for the others. I suspect she hadn't anticipated feeding this many people, but she freely gave what little she had prepared and ate what was left. (If she ate at all; now that I'm thinking about it, I don't remember seeing her eat after that.)
On my way home, I stopped by to visit a lady by the market who always greets me with "Amiga!" when I walk by. I was immediately offered cake and soda, and because it's rude to refuse food, drank my 3rd coca-cola of the day. My stomach hurt that evening, but I guess there are worse things than being offered too much to eat and drink.
Mozambique has a nickname- "Terra da Boa Gente" (Land of Good People) and the more time I spend with the communities, the more I see this to hold true. Their hospitality and their generosity are really amazing, especially considering how poor they are. It's taken me this long into my service to make friends and really feel like a part of the place I live, but I guess that's the beauty of being in Peace Corps and living within a community for two years. It takes just that long not only for a community to accept and embrace you, but for you to be ready to be accepted and embraced by the community.
-----
Notable conversations I've had in the past few days:
I'm sitting with a group of women who are cooking. One lady asks me when I go back to my homeland and how long it takes to get there. I tell her two days. "Two days?!" She says incredulously. "By airplane??" Another girl cuts in, speaking very knowledgeably: "Yes, don't you know? Planes have bathrooms and TV's and everything!" I nod my agreement and tell them that two days isn't so bad. Knowledgeable girl chimes in,"Yeah, if I had to be on a plane for two days I would just spend my time hanging out at the pool." Doh. Not so knowledgeable after all.
I'm in the car with one of Antonieta's nieces who asks me if I have a boyfriend.
Me: I'm married.
Niece: Do you have children?
Me: No.
Niece: Why not?
Me: Because I live here and my husband lives in America.
Niece: How can you survive being apart from him?
Me: Well, he's been here a few times to visit.
Niece:And you don't have "relations"with him?
Me: Um, he's my husband so...
Niece: Then why don't you have kids?
Me: Because I don't want any right now!
Niece: You can have mine.
Me: No thank you.
Niece: You don't want him?
Me: I'm going to have my own, eventually.
Niece: You're going to get old.
Me: Not anytime soon, I'm only 23.
Niece: (disgusted) 23 and without kids?
Me: It's not possible right now, since I'm so far away from my husband.
Niece: There are men here.
Me: But...I'm not married to them.
Niece: You can borrow mine.
Me: No...
Niece: Why not? It's all the same.
Me: Not exactly.
Niece: But your husband has a girlfriend in America.
Me: No he doesn't.
Niece: But he sleeps with other women?
Me: No he doesn't.
Niece: ….......
Driver of the car: It's not their tradition.
Me: Exactly! It's not our tradition.
I stop by my neighbor's house one morning and am greeted by a man I've never seen before, some relative that's home for the Easter holidays from South Africa. The following conversation occurs in English.
(After the mandatory greetings and how-are-yous)
Man: So you have a dog.
Me: Yes, two actually.
Man: Your dog, he eat my chicken.
Me: (Thinking: oh no, not again) Oh?
Man: Yes, I bought two chicken and he eat both of them.
Me: Should I pay for it?
Man: No, you won't pay for it. It's too expensive. I will kill that dog.
Man's brother: He's joking.
Man: I will kill that dog.
Me: Please don't do that...
Man: Why? He cause me problem. I will kill him. (pointing at dog in the yard chasing a chicken) You see?
Me: That's not my dog.
Man: I will kill all of them.
Me: Wow. Please don't do that. I'll pay for the chicken
Man: You will pay for it? It is 140.
Me: Yes, I will pay for it.
Man: (bursting out laughing) Okay, I won't kill the dog. It is because you are a good person. I was going to kill the dog. Everything was ready to kill the dog, but I will not do it because you are a good person.
Me: (Relieved and terrified) Oh, well, thank you?
Man: You are good person, not like the last one. She was not friendly, she did not like to be with the people. She was not good in her heart.
Me: Well...okay...thank you... Nice to meet you.....
And from this conversation I walked away with the importance of being nice to your neighbors.
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