sooooooo chaz and i at it again- made lentil burgers and hung on his porch this weekend enjoying one of Cincinnati's Finest: Montgomery Inn Bar-B-Que sauce!!
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
under pressure...then "getting a grip"
I feel like I’m on a timeline. Are people are going to die on my watch? Of course they are, that’s ‘life.’ What’s the difference if they die on mine or anyone else’s? They are still dead. A new reality.
As tears well up in my eyes I look around my kitchen and see familiar faces. Faces of friends and family that rely on me for love, support, friendship, a laugh, a hug- not for survival. Not for food. Not for a net to keep mosquitoes away because of fear of malaria. The faces I see in my head when I’m supposed to be writing a proposal, facilitating a meeting, encouraging home base care workers- these faces might come with familiar smiles but their words are those of immediacy- of need, a need I haven’t come in contact with until now. I want to be rational, be a facilitator instead of a leader of a group, capacity building and sustainability are at the forefront always or whatever ‘work’ I do will fail. This is fine, I see the bigger picture but my constant question is: how do I convey this “bigger picture” through language and cultural barriers when people living with HIV/AIDS need food to take their ARVs? The big picture, the long-term goals- for some there is no long term. There is tomorrow; maybe.
Maybe not though- maybe there is a certain amount of egocentricity (not sure if that’s the word I want to use…) looming over me. These problems existed before I got here, they will continue when I leave- it’s not up to me to feed everyone and support every project….or is it? This is the struggle, the pull. The balance I can’t seem to find- what is my responsibility? To be like a parent? Parents always know what’s best- they have learned the lessons their kids will encounter, but the kids have to learn them on their own. You can only take them so far. So do I hold the bigger picture secret maneuvering through this process without expressing what I “know” and in the end they will figure it out? They look to me for answers, answers I don’t have. I couldn’t possibly have. I’m supposed to have the right questions though. I want to ask the right questions to pull the answers out of them; they know what’s best for them and their community. I’m an outsider- posing as the savior they have dubbed me: “Nana Sarah, we call you the mother of the solution to our problems” -Markus wrote that in my birthday card. [insert four letter swear word of your liking].
Surely there is a country song about ups and downs, highs and lows, how everything changes from one moment to the next. The unpredictability of it all is supposed to be the fun part right? That’s life….just heard from a friend- she writes “remember that life is much too important to be taken so seriously” I know she is right….but what does that even mean, really mean? The fact that I’m trying to figure out what it means negates my understanding of it. I’m supposed to laugh and go outside and look at the sky or something. And not think. But I’ll do that another day, now I’m just going to write. BUT I’m thankful for the reminder- it does not go unnoticed.
Another reminder- we are doing a job that has no rule book. The only way to succeed is to mess up. Maybe that is the same with every job but, well, I’m overwhelmed.
Amanda calls- I cry my face off- she compassionately says “get a grip.” Ok :) Sure, consider me gripped. Really, 24 hours later I’ve overcome another day. A lot of the pressure I’m feeling is self-imposed. Saying “no” and “we are partners” and “things take time” are the keys to navigating this ride successfully. In the midst of being stressed out, overwhelmed, feeling like I’ve screwed up big time I am greeted by acquaintances on the main road. These acquaintances soon become friends when they invite me for lunch and we eat off the same plate in the open market. We laugh about the mess I’ve made, share a glass of water among 4, plan to have a beer at 5 when we ‘knock off.’ And life goes on.
As tears well up in my eyes I look around my kitchen and see familiar faces. Faces of friends and family that rely on me for love, support, friendship, a laugh, a hug- not for survival. Not for food. Not for a net to keep mosquitoes away because of fear of malaria. The faces I see in my head when I’m supposed to be writing a proposal, facilitating a meeting, encouraging home base care workers- these faces might come with familiar smiles but their words are those of immediacy- of need, a need I haven’t come in contact with until now. I want to be rational, be a facilitator instead of a leader of a group, capacity building and sustainability are at the forefront always or whatever ‘work’ I do will fail. This is fine, I see the bigger picture but my constant question is: how do I convey this “bigger picture” through language and cultural barriers when people living with HIV/AIDS need food to take their ARVs? The big picture, the long-term goals- for some there is no long term. There is tomorrow; maybe.
Maybe not though- maybe there is a certain amount of egocentricity (not sure if that’s the word I want to use…) looming over me. These problems existed before I got here, they will continue when I leave- it’s not up to me to feed everyone and support every project….or is it? This is the struggle, the pull. The balance I can’t seem to find- what is my responsibility? To be like a parent? Parents always know what’s best- they have learned the lessons their kids will encounter, but the kids have to learn them on their own. You can only take them so far. So do I hold the bigger picture secret maneuvering through this process without expressing what I “know” and in the end they will figure it out? They look to me for answers, answers I don’t have. I couldn’t possibly have. I’m supposed to have the right questions though. I want to ask the right questions to pull the answers out of them; they know what’s best for them and their community. I’m an outsider- posing as the savior they have dubbed me: “Nana Sarah, we call you the mother of the solution to our problems” -Markus wrote that in my birthday card. [insert four letter swear word of your liking].
Surely there is a country song about ups and downs, highs and lows, how everything changes from one moment to the next. The unpredictability of it all is supposed to be the fun part right? That’s life….just heard from a friend- she writes “remember that life is much too important to be taken so seriously” I know she is right….but what does that even mean, really mean? The fact that I’m trying to figure out what it means negates my understanding of it. I’m supposed to laugh and go outside and look at the sky or something. And not think. But I’ll do that another day, now I’m just going to write. BUT I’m thankful for the reminder- it does not go unnoticed.
Another reminder- we are doing a job that has no rule book. The only way to succeed is to mess up. Maybe that is the same with every job but, well, I’m overwhelmed.
Amanda calls- I cry my face off- she compassionately says “get a grip.” Ok :) Sure, consider me gripped. Really, 24 hours later I’ve overcome another day. A lot of the pressure I’m feeling is self-imposed. Saying “no” and “we are partners” and “things take time” are the keys to navigating this ride successfully. In the midst of being stressed out, overwhelmed, feeling like I’ve screwed up big time I am greeted by acquaintances on the main road. These acquaintances soon become friends when they invite me for lunch and we eat off the same plate in the open market. We laugh about the mess I’ve made, share a glass of water among 4, plan to have a beer at 5 when we ‘knock off.’ And life goes on.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Saturday, February 16, 2008
in order from top to bottom...i think:
1.
this is one of the buildings at our health facility 2. TB/HIV/AIDS "ward" many of the folks are homeless so they live here...3. my church- lutheran 4. principal at Nkurenkuru Combined School- notice writing on the board 5. two pics from my bday! margareth is in orange and anna mary is in white
ps...IT'S MY MOMS BIRTHDAY TODAY!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOVE YOU MAMA!!!!!!!!!!
this post will be dedicated to the letter B- for bullet points:
- a week ago i had my first moment where everything looked "normal" as in familiar. it's just my street. just my coworkers. just my neighbors. just my life. it was all familiar. and that was a great feeling
- i'm in love with my region- it's so green, the river is amazing, and looking over to angola is such an incredible view
- work is picking up quite a bit- i spent the weekend in rundu meeting with a bunch of organizations (mainly regional offices of the groups im working with in Nkurenkuru) and i now have a TO DO list larger than life: i cant wait!!
- today was one of the most beautiful days i've had. there was a nice cool breeze most of the day- up at 6 from the sun coming through the open windows, out of the house by 7:30 to walk into town by the river, collected quotations for garden supplies for our community garden (in grant proposals you have to include price quotations from three different places for any items you need to purchase with your budget), i love rundu, greatest town in namibs!!!
yeah, im back on the upswing of this silly roller coaster. it feels good. i feel good.
more from me later, just wanted to post some pics and send out some hi's!!
athletics
athletics: each school around the region competes in "athletics" around Feb time. the top kids go from their school competitions to a zonal competition, then to regional, then national and maybe even beyond that. it's a pretty great time to watch the kids go wild with their track and field events. fun fact: they have to build their own track first. they clear the field, take poles and line the 400m track then take cup fulls of powdered chalk and fill in the lines. it's hard to descibe the scene but check the pics.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
31/1/08
“Nane Sarah, waha roroka”
As feelings of anxiety rise to the surface of my being some much needed self-talk kicks in. I’ve become quite accustomed to this feeling as all eyes look glazed over, body language appears unengaged and apathetic and one voice dominates the discussion. The talk is big and the energy is sterile as we discus the “year plan” and how we are going to address issues of poverty, hunger, and disease. I daydream about introducing rose and thorn check-ins and closing circles as a way to unite the group in a new way- but it just seems like a far off concept and a little too hokey in a place like this. I come back to the point of the meeting, look around the room and try to remind myself that the stillness and blank stares are not uncommon- it’s a cultural phenomenon that I’ve witnessed many times. “Do they want to be here?” I’m constantly asking myself. It’s almost painful watching everyone around the table- they appear as if someone forced them to these seats.
As the two hours come to a close there is a little more chatter and input from around the table. We’re now creating a working committee and men and women are excited and/or intimidated to be ‘elected” organizer, spokesperson, secretary etc… We decide to meet every Monday at 2:00pm. I appear relaxed and confident in the groups ability but inside I’m wondering how we’ll ever move past the meeting stage.
Every gathering starts with a prayer and opening statements and closes with the same. When I speak only half of the room understands so Titus is always translating English- Rukwangali and vice versa. There is a tangible sense of pride as he understands and can communicate in both. Sofia stands from her chair to give the closing remarks. She is thankful for the coming together and sharing of ideas. She is excited to meet next Monday and work hard, she asks that the group members who are not present come next time and that everyone be punctual. I’m surprised by the extent of her comments as she was one of the blank stares- she then looks at me (eye contact is very rare especially in meetings) and she says “Nane Sarah, waha roroka.” ….Don’t get tired.
Day 11 on the job- 2nd official meting with UMYA- 5 words consisting of the traditional greeting between Sofia and myself and she saw through to my soul, my dot, and somehow recognized the need for eye contact and words that would cement our connection.
Waha roroka- I won’t. I can’t. It’s a reminder to dig deeper. Set aside my own judgments on how people should “appear” to be engaged and listening. Be patient with the process and help create space for dialogue. Encourage those who do speak up and empower those around the table to act on their words. Don’t get tired, don’t get stuck, “figure it out.”
UMYA’s chairperson Markus has created a slogan: “Here to Sweat.” He repeats it all day long and wants to make T-shirts with the slogan and sell them as a fundraiser. For our group members if you put in 10hours of sweating, working hard, visiting your home based care clients, tending to the community garden etc you get a free shirt. “It’s time to put the words in ink and on paper and then to sweat, to work hard” says Markus. Time to put our “money” where our mouth is.
Last night I was walking home from the store and Markus came to me in a slight panic. His regional supervisor called and is coming tomorrow for a meeting on Friday to review their year plans. He couldn’t find Titus, the other chair, and didn’t have a report prepared. I invited him over to work on my computer and we could print a report in the morning. His response was a heavy handshake, a grin, and he said “here to sweat!” We walked home and the gate separating the clinic to the path to my house appeared to be locked. I thought we were going to have to walk around through the bush but Markus took his index finger and removed the fake lock- looked at me with a straight face and in a very serious tone said “here to sweat.” Hahahahaha I lost it, this is a funny man I’m tellin’ you.
ps. my friend wil is brilliant- check out his blog: www.apoliticalwill.blogspot.com
“Nane Sarah, waha roroka”
As feelings of anxiety rise to the surface of my being some much needed self-talk kicks in. I’ve become quite accustomed to this feeling as all eyes look glazed over, body language appears unengaged and apathetic and one voice dominates the discussion. The talk is big and the energy is sterile as we discus the “year plan” and how we are going to address issues of poverty, hunger, and disease. I daydream about introducing rose and thorn check-ins and closing circles as a way to unite the group in a new way- but it just seems like a far off concept and a little too hokey in a place like this. I come back to the point of the meeting, look around the room and try to remind myself that the stillness and blank stares are not uncommon- it’s a cultural phenomenon that I’ve witnessed many times. “Do they want to be here?” I’m constantly asking myself. It’s almost painful watching everyone around the table- they appear as if someone forced them to these seats.
As the two hours come to a close there is a little more chatter and input from around the table. We’re now creating a working committee and men and women are excited and/or intimidated to be ‘elected” organizer, spokesperson, secretary etc… We decide to meet every Monday at 2:00pm. I appear relaxed and confident in the groups ability but inside I’m wondering how we’ll ever move past the meeting stage.
Every gathering starts with a prayer and opening statements and closes with the same. When I speak only half of the room understands so Titus is always translating English- Rukwangali and vice versa. There is a tangible sense of pride as he understands and can communicate in both. Sofia stands from her chair to give the closing remarks. She is thankful for the coming together and sharing of ideas. She is excited to meet next Monday and work hard, she asks that the group members who are not present come next time and that everyone be punctual. I’m surprised by the extent of her comments as she was one of the blank stares- she then looks at me (eye contact is very rare especially in meetings) and she says “Nane Sarah, waha roroka.” ….Don’t get tired.
Day 11 on the job- 2nd official meting with UMYA- 5 words consisting of the traditional greeting between Sofia and myself and she saw through to my soul, my dot, and somehow recognized the need for eye contact and words that would cement our connection.
Waha roroka- I won’t. I can’t. It’s a reminder to dig deeper. Set aside my own judgments on how people should “appear” to be engaged and listening. Be patient with the process and help create space for dialogue. Encourage those who do speak up and empower those around the table to act on their words. Don’t get tired, don’t get stuck, “figure it out.”
UMYA’s chairperson Markus has created a slogan: “Here to Sweat.” He repeats it all day long and wants to make T-shirts with the slogan and sell them as a fundraiser. For our group members if you put in 10hours of sweating, working hard, visiting your home based care clients, tending to the community garden etc you get a free shirt. “It’s time to put the words in ink and on paper and then to sweat, to work hard” says Markus. Time to put our “money” where our mouth is.
Last night I was walking home from the store and Markus came to me in a slight panic. His regional supervisor called and is coming tomorrow for a meeting on Friday to review their year plans. He couldn’t find Titus, the other chair, and didn’t have a report prepared. I invited him over to work on my computer and we could print a report in the morning. His response was a heavy handshake, a grin, and he said “here to sweat!” We walked home and the gate separating the clinic to the path to my house appeared to be locked. I thought we were going to have to walk around through the bush but Markus took his index finger and removed the fake lock- looked at me with a straight face and in a very serious tone said “here to sweat.” Hahahahaha I lost it, this is a funny man I’m tellin’ you.
ps. my friend wil is brilliant- check out his blog: www.apoliticalwill.blogspot.com
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