Yay! My Peace Corps Partnership Project has been posted online! This means that people can go to the Peace Corps website, read about my project, and make donations to help buy goats for women in my village for their income generating project.
If anyone has any questions about it feel free to ask me - either by leaving a message or asking in PERSON b/c I'm IN AMERICA and will hopefully see many of you!
Here's the website:
Goat Project!
Friday, July 24, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Is this patience or fatalism?
Yesterday I was talking to a few other PCVs about various ways we feel we've changed over the past year. The most pronounced thing for me, I think, is an increase in patience.
Now, I liked to think that I was a fairly patient person, by American standards, before living here. But this new development is not the American, take-a-deep-breath-and-dont-freak-out-patience. We're not talking about controlling one's frustration when things go wrong. We're talking an actual lack of frustration.
Bush taxi broke down? Well, Leah, what did you expect? You'll get there when you get there.
They're out of (insert food item here) at the restaurant? Guess I'll make some rice.
Power went out during the last 5 minutes of a very exciting new movie? And?
(Literally this has happened more times than I can count. The mark of a seasoned volunteer is that s/he will hardly react at all. The newest PCVs might express disappointment. The rest of us either sit there to see if it will come back on any time soon, or wordlessly get up to do something else. )
I wouldn't think this at all remarkable except that when things like this happen I honestly don't feel disapointed when things go wrong, or at least not more than a very fleeting twinge.
Nigeriens (well, muslims in general, really) use the expression "inshallah" ALL the time. "If God wills it."
"Will I see you this afternoon?"
"Inshallah"
"Will you have fixed the internet by this evening?"
"Inshallah"
"I'm going to Konni tomorrow, inshallah"
"It will rain today, inshallah"
When things don't go as planned or desired, the typical response is, "Well, God didn't will that." There is this constant unstated "Whatcha gonna do?" And I've gotten the feeling that the concept of "dissapointment" as we know it wouldn't really translate. If, for example, you were to ask one of my villagers how they felt about the bush taxi breaking down, there's a good chance they would say, "Feel? What do you mean? It happened. God willed it." They would just shrug it off and move on.
"Zamun duniya, sai hankuri" is a common proverb that basically translates to, "that's life, be patient."
For someone who, by virtue of living in the States, is frankly, accustomed to a VERY different philosophy (think "God helps those who help themselves") and significantly more reliability when it comes to things like transportation, what products a store/restaurant have in stock, regular access to functional technology, etc. this degree of fatalism can be incredibly frustrating.
("Can you fix that?"
"Inshallah"
"No! It's a YES or NO question. Can. You. Fix. It? )
But, I have to admit, its rubbing off on me a bit...
This is not to say that if there is any possible action that I can take to move towards the desired end I won't take it. I will fight tooth and nail and do everything in my power to get there, because I am very much an American and happen to love the proactive-to-the-extreme aspect of our culture.
However...
It does mean that almost nothing will shock or frustrate me at this point. And once I realize that there's nothing I can do, I will, like my villagers, shrug my shoulders and sit and wait to see what happens.
I had thought this before, and talked about it just yesterday, but had it really put to the test last night. I have been planning my trip home for this summer for months, booked my ticket back in May, have been counting down FOR EVER, had filled out all the required paperwork, printed out my boarding pass, was packed and ready. The Peace Corps shuttle picked me and one other PCV, who was also heading home for the first time in a year, up at 9:30 pm to go to the airport last night.
And yet, here I am, 12 hours later, still in Niamey, at the Peace Corps office updating my blog.
What happened, you ask?
We went through lots and lots of security. We boarded the plane. We settled into our seats. And then we heard the announcement.
"We're very sorry, but this flight has been cancelled."
Surely, I must have misheard that? Delayed... sure. Rescheduled, maybe. But cancelled? Go home, that's all folks? To quote a former host-mother, c'est pas possible!
But, alas, they did mean cancelled. Well... sort of. More like, delayed indefinately, I suppose. There was a problem with the engine (I keep telling myself to be grateful that they realized this whilst on the ground... this is good advice, but I'm having a hard time summoning that particular emotion) and they are fixing it. We were all sent home or to hotels, after they took down all of our phone numbers, and were told that they will contact us as soon as they've fixed the problem and are able to take off. So here I am, waiting patiently.
I'd be lying to say I wasn't at all disapointed by this, despite all I said above, but my emotional response was surely nothing compared to what it would have been a year ago. Yes, it's frustrating that I'm going to have a few less days at home. Yes, I would much rather be having thai food with my family tonight than rice and beans with PCVs. Yes, I would LOVE to have some clear idea of when I will finally fly out (today? tonight? tomorrow? tomorrow night??). But at this point, it is out of my hands. I contacted everyone, at AirFrance, Peace Corps, and home, that I can contact. At a large airport one might make a fuss and have them juggle all kinds of things around and get on a different flight. But this is not a large airport and there are no other fligths. That is the only plane around, at the moment, so until they fix it or send another, I've got to wait. I'll get there when I get there, or, as my villagers would say, I'll get there when God wills it.
One way or another, I'll be home soon (inshallah).
Now, I liked to think that I was a fairly patient person, by American standards, before living here. But this new development is not the American, take-a-deep-breath-and-dont-freak-out-patience. We're not talking about controlling one's frustration when things go wrong. We're talking an actual lack of frustration.
Bush taxi broke down? Well, Leah, what did you expect? You'll get there when you get there.
They're out of (insert food item here) at the restaurant? Guess I'll make some rice.
Power went out during the last 5 minutes of a very exciting new movie? And?
(Literally this has happened more times than I can count. The mark of a seasoned volunteer is that s/he will hardly react at all. The newest PCVs might express disappointment. The rest of us either sit there to see if it will come back on any time soon, or wordlessly get up to do something else. )
I wouldn't think this at all remarkable except that when things like this happen I honestly don't feel disapointed when things go wrong, or at least not more than a very fleeting twinge.
Nigeriens (well, muslims in general, really) use the expression "inshallah" ALL the time. "If God wills it."
"Will I see you this afternoon?"
"Inshallah"
"Will you have fixed the internet by this evening?"
"Inshallah"
"I'm going to Konni tomorrow, inshallah"
"It will rain today, inshallah"
When things don't go as planned or desired, the typical response is, "Well, God didn't will that." There is this constant unstated "Whatcha gonna do?" And I've gotten the feeling that the concept of "dissapointment" as we know it wouldn't really translate. If, for example, you were to ask one of my villagers how they felt about the bush taxi breaking down, there's a good chance they would say, "Feel? What do you mean? It happened. God willed it." They would just shrug it off and move on.
"Zamun duniya, sai hankuri" is a common proverb that basically translates to, "that's life, be patient."
For someone who, by virtue of living in the States, is frankly, accustomed to a VERY different philosophy (think "God helps those who help themselves") and significantly more reliability when it comes to things like transportation, what products a store/restaurant have in stock, regular access to functional technology, etc. this degree of fatalism can be incredibly frustrating.
("Can you fix that?"
"Inshallah"
"No! It's a YES or NO question. Can. You. Fix. It? )
But, I have to admit, its rubbing off on me a bit...
This is not to say that if there is any possible action that I can take to move towards the desired end I won't take it. I will fight tooth and nail and do everything in my power to get there, because I am very much an American and happen to love the proactive-to-the-extreme aspect of our culture.
However...
It does mean that almost nothing will shock or frustrate me at this point. And once I realize that there's nothing I can do, I will, like my villagers, shrug my shoulders and sit and wait to see what happens.
I had thought this before, and talked about it just yesterday, but had it really put to the test last night. I have been planning my trip home for this summer for months, booked my ticket back in May, have been counting down FOR EVER, had filled out all the required paperwork, printed out my boarding pass, was packed and ready. The Peace Corps shuttle picked me and one other PCV, who was also heading home for the first time in a year, up at 9:30 pm to go to the airport last night.
And yet, here I am, 12 hours later, still in Niamey, at the Peace Corps office updating my blog.
What happened, you ask?
We went through lots and lots of security. We boarded the plane. We settled into our seats. And then we heard the announcement.
"We're very sorry, but this flight has been cancelled."
Surely, I must have misheard that? Delayed... sure. Rescheduled, maybe. But cancelled? Go home, that's all folks? To quote a former host-mother, c'est pas possible!
But, alas, they did mean cancelled. Well... sort of. More like, delayed indefinately, I suppose. There was a problem with the engine (I keep telling myself to be grateful that they realized this whilst on the ground... this is good advice, but I'm having a hard time summoning that particular emotion) and they are fixing it. We were all sent home or to hotels, after they took down all of our phone numbers, and were told that they will contact us as soon as they've fixed the problem and are able to take off. So here I am, waiting patiently.
I'd be lying to say I wasn't at all disapointed by this, despite all I said above, but my emotional response was surely nothing compared to what it would have been a year ago. Yes, it's frustrating that I'm going to have a few less days at home. Yes, I would much rather be having thai food with my family tonight than rice and beans with PCVs. Yes, I would LOVE to have some clear idea of when I will finally fly out (today? tonight? tomorrow? tomorrow night??). But at this point, it is out of my hands. I contacted everyone, at AirFrance, Peace Corps, and home, that I can contact. At a large airport one might make a fuss and have them juggle all kinds of things around and get on a different flight. But this is not a large airport and there are no other fligths. That is the only plane around, at the moment, so until they fix it or send another, I've got to wait. I'll get there when I get there, or, as my villagers would say, I'll get there when God wills it.
One way or another, I'll be home soon (inshallah).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)