Although my time is filled with day dreams of my trip home in November, I am trying to be productive and get a few things accomplished to stick to my goals for year 2 of my PC experience.
As of the 21st, I commenced my second year of service. I’ve had my awakening and have made a list of my goals for the next year.
Map murals at each centre (6 total)
Art projects started at Butswana, Worcester and Moshate centres
Continued art projects at each centre
Drama competitions – submit best story to Scenarios From Africa
It seems small at first glance but then knowing how time consuming simple tasks can be, I’m not going to try and beef it up for aesthetics sake. Quality over quantity…
Last week I was at one of the offices helping Susan, one of my counterparts, to balance the cash book. She had been recording the information just in a notebook so I showed her how to do it in excel. After showing her the formulas and then helping her figure out where the problem was, she was so happy. I helped her to simplify her job and she was so excited and gave me a huge hug. Just to see her smile like that made my day. And sharing my nerdy computer knowledge made me feel good too. I am doing something to help. Today I showed her more things on her computer and she was just as happy and open to learning.
And then she told me I should stay till the end of PhediĊĦang because I am so helpful. I feel wanted, I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I needed that.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
mourning harry potter
Per my Uncle Bob’s request, I am trying to be more consistent about writing blogs. Really, some days are filled with nothing interesting to talk about so maybe I can fill you with more of the random thoughts that fill my head instead…
…Like Harry Potter. I love Harry Potter, have read his books from the beginning. I’ve barely been able to keep my eyes from skipping over words so I can get through the exciting parts of the books. Harry and me, we’re old friends.
From the moment I got home with the package my mother sent with the last book and other goodies (LOVED the granola bars mom!) I couldn’t put it down. When I had the really rough day last week, I think part of it was that I just finished reading the last part of Harry Potter’s story. After closing the book and feeling a little sad about the end of something great, I just couldn’t take it when all the real world stuff came raining down on my shoulders. I had to cry to let it out. I mourned for lots of stuff and honestly, I think a few tears were for Harry Potter and the end of his story.
Before you judge me as being completely insane and a touch too emotional, you have to actually try and put yourself in my shoes. Although, overall, I enjoy my life here, it’s hard and some times, I just need to escape reality. Ok, a lot of times. I have always loved books but since I’ve been here I devour them, can’t get enough of them. I submerge myself whole heartedly into a story, I get attached to the characters, try and see myself in different parts of their stories. Every old house that is described somehow ends up being 103, my grandparents house, and the best friends or supporting characters, I see my own friends faces. Every story I read, even those that are no where close to me or who I am or where I came from, something draws me in (unless it’s a really bad book like The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen – for the life of me I can’t finish this book. I’ve attempted it twice now but the characters are just deplorable) and makes me fall in love. It could just be the way the author is able to find a beautiful way of stringing words together even if I don’t care for the plot.
After each book concludes, after the characters find their closure and are set free, I’m sad to see their stories come to an end. Apart of me laments the finish of every good book; I just don’t want the story to end. Like Harry Potter and all of his adventures. He fought evil, over came it and then lived happily ever after. Who doesn’t want their own story book ending and an end to all of the wickedness in the world? Of course I’m going to mourn; we still have a long way to go.
…Like Harry Potter. I love Harry Potter, have read his books from the beginning. I’ve barely been able to keep my eyes from skipping over words so I can get through the exciting parts of the books. Harry and me, we’re old friends.
From the moment I got home with the package my mother sent with the last book and other goodies (LOVED the granola bars mom!) I couldn’t put it down. When I had the really rough day last week, I think part of it was that I just finished reading the last part of Harry Potter’s story. After closing the book and feeling a little sad about the end of something great, I just couldn’t take it when all the real world stuff came raining down on my shoulders. I had to cry to let it out. I mourned for lots of stuff and honestly, I think a few tears were for Harry Potter and the end of his story.
Before you judge me as being completely insane and a touch too emotional, you have to actually try and put yourself in my shoes. Although, overall, I enjoy my life here, it’s hard and some times, I just need to escape reality. Ok, a lot of times. I have always loved books but since I’ve been here I devour them, can’t get enough of them. I submerge myself whole heartedly into a story, I get attached to the characters, try and see myself in different parts of their stories. Every old house that is described somehow ends up being 103, my grandparents house, and the best friends or supporting characters, I see my own friends faces. Every story I read, even those that are no where close to me or who I am or where I came from, something draws me in (unless it’s a really bad book like The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen – for the life of me I can’t finish this book. I’ve attempted it twice now but the characters are just deplorable) and makes me fall in love. It could just be the way the author is able to find a beautiful way of stringing words together even if I don’t care for the plot.
After each book concludes, after the characters find their closure and are set free, I’m sad to see their stories come to an end. Apart of me laments the finish of every good book; I just don’t want the story to end. Like Harry Potter and all of his adventures. He fought evil, over came it and then lived happily ever after. Who doesn’t want their own story book ending and an end to all of the wickedness in the world? Of course I’m going to mourn; we still have a long way to go.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
ripples of hope
My bed is made, my room is tidy, my dishes are put away and I’m sitting at my desk just having finished some work emails that I needed to get done. I feel productive. This is not how I have felt all week, or even for the past few weeks, but I’m overcoming my feelings of inadequacies.
Last time I said that the German volunteers were good to have around and motivating. They are but I also started to feel like I wasn’t doing enough, hadn’t done enough for the past year. They come in for a couple months at a time and seem to be getting things done; the things that I wanted to do but hadn’t been able to just yet. They questioned and I started to as well, why hadn’t I addressed these issues over the past year. Issues dealing with food and supply shortages and workers who haven’t been doing their jobs correctly. It was overwhelming for a few days, I started thinking about all the problems of this one organization, then of all the problems of this area, then of the country, then of all of Africa, the world, you get the picture. How can I do anything at all to make a difference? What am I trying to do here? Am I really going to survive another 5 years working in Africa?
I had a lot of long email conversations with Jason and that helped. I wanted to know what to expect in other countries, is their apathy all over Africa? Does anyone want to actually work towards change or is all just lip service? These feelings came to a head when I found out one of our orphans died while I spent a week working in Johannesburg. She was 7 y ears old, tiny for her age and always looked sick. She barely smiled but when I was at the centre I would try and make her giggle and crack a little smile. The older kids always looked after her, made sure she ate, got an extra piece of fruit if there was some, involved her in the singing and dancing. And she always danced and sang. She always tried.
It breaks my heart to think of it now, a little 7 year old who won’t get to grow up. Her mother died of AIDS and that’s what also took her life. I want to blame someone, could we have done more, is the health care system adequate enough? But as I was reminded, that is the ugly truth of the disease, it claims lives, young or old and it is swept under the rug. No one wants to hear that AIDS was the cause. And because she was an orphan, it is even quieter. It’s maddening and if I think about it for too long, I start to sink under the weight of not knowing how to fight it or where to start.
After more discussions, I realized that I just can’t let myself be consumed by it all. I have to look at the smaller picture some times. If we can help the kids that were closest to her mourn, understand what happened to her, then maybe it will grow from there. Like a ripple effect in a pond, you give them some thoughts that grown inside and when they are older, long after I’m gone, maybe that’s when the changes will start to happen.
And then I was handed a quote and it fit perfectly into what I had just come to understand and hope for myself. He even spoke about the ripples I envisioned. It’s a quote from Robert Kenney and I don’t know when or why he was saying it but it speaks to me now:
“Let no one be discourage by the belief there is nothing one man or one woman can do against the enormous array of the world’s ills – against misery and ignorance, injustice and violence…Few will have the greatness to bend history itself, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation…
It is from the numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends a tiny ripple of hope and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”
Last time I said that the German volunteers were good to have around and motivating. They are but I also started to feel like I wasn’t doing enough, hadn’t done enough for the past year. They come in for a couple months at a time and seem to be getting things done; the things that I wanted to do but hadn’t been able to just yet. They questioned and I started to as well, why hadn’t I addressed these issues over the past year. Issues dealing with food and supply shortages and workers who haven’t been doing their jobs correctly. It was overwhelming for a few days, I started thinking about all the problems of this one organization, then of all the problems of this area, then of the country, then of all of Africa, the world, you get the picture. How can I do anything at all to make a difference? What am I trying to do here? Am I really going to survive another 5 years working in Africa?
I had a lot of long email conversations with Jason and that helped. I wanted to know what to expect in other countries, is their apathy all over Africa? Does anyone want to actually work towards change or is all just lip service? These feelings came to a head when I found out one of our orphans died while I spent a week working in Johannesburg. She was 7 y ears old, tiny for her age and always looked sick. She barely smiled but when I was at the centre I would try and make her giggle and crack a little smile. The older kids always looked after her, made sure she ate, got an extra piece of fruit if there was some, involved her in the singing and dancing. And she always danced and sang. She always tried.
It breaks my heart to think of it now, a little 7 year old who won’t get to grow up. Her mother died of AIDS and that’s what also took her life. I want to blame someone, could we have done more, is the health care system adequate enough? But as I was reminded, that is the ugly truth of the disease, it claims lives, young or old and it is swept under the rug. No one wants to hear that AIDS was the cause. And because she was an orphan, it is even quieter. It’s maddening and if I think about it for too long, I start to sink under the weight of not knowing how to fight it or where to start.
After more discussions, I realized that I just can’t let myself be consumed by it all. I have to look at the smaller picture some times. If we can help the kids that were closest to her mourn, understand what happened to her, then maybe it will grow from there. Like a ripple effect in a pond, you give them some thoughts that grown inside and when they are older, long after I’m gone, maybe that’s when the changes will start to happen.
And then I was handed a quote and it fit perfectly into what I had just come to understand and hope for myself. He even spoke about the ripples I envisioned. It’s a quote from Robert Kenney and I don’t know when or why he was saying it but it speaks to me now:
“Let no one be discourage by the belief there is nothing one man or one woman can do against the enormous array of the world’s ills – against misery and ignorance, injustice and violence…Few will have the greatness to bend history itself, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation…
It is from the numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends a tiny ripple of hope and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”
Thursday, September 13, 2007
aunts and little people
I am so excited to announce that I am an Auntie! My older sister, Anne-Marie, gave birth to the first grandchild for our parents after 36 hours of labor. I don't think all of it was painful but I can't imagine it was all that pleasant either. He was born September 12 at around 1:30 am and his name is Cameron Richard Weldon and he's adorable. 6 lbs 14 ozs I can't wait to meet him! I haven't talked to her yet but I hear Mom, Dad Lee and baby are doing great. In November I will get to meet the beautiful little addition to the family and hold him in my arms. So exciting!
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