le culte du moi

Suddenly, it's Summer 2009

2009-06-12T00:41:00.004-06:00

And I'm blogging again. A brief recap of my life in 100 words or less since the last post: finished my service and took the LSAT out in Ghana, was in India for a bit while applications were being processed, started law school and managed to get through 1L. No longer a dirty Peace Corps Volunteer in Africa, I now work for a federal judge in downtown LA and wear a suit every day. The work's great; my fellow co-externs are wonderfully irreverent and I'm learning a lot while enjoying LA for the summer.

Pictures coming soon.

where's your vector, victor?

2007-01-11T02:19:00.000-06:00

It's been a busy and somewhat tiring 2 weeks in the States, but a good trip nonetheless. Most of my time has been spent answering questions about Peace Corps, the endless question of "What's Africa Like?", and showing slide shows and the small collection of things from my artisans association to friends and visitors.

Before joining Peace Corps, I would listen to stories of Returned Volunteers and wonder why they were so Kafka-esque and well, let's face it...weird. Now, I know I've joined their ranks. No matter how much I've tried to stay the same, a lot of things have changed. Mainly, I just cannot be bothered with trivial things. I don't know exactly what contributed to this, but my guess is that I live amongst people who have nowhere near the amount of wealth that people in the States have and still manage to be happy and stay positive about life. During my time in NYC & LA, I couldn't help but notice just how miserable people are with their jobs, their house, where they are in their lives, and themselves. Being a few pounds overweight...yelling at the guy at Starbucks because (HELLOOO!) you ordered a Skim Mocha Latte with SOY milk, NOT fat free...having a bad day over the bastard who managed to cut you off on the freeway on your way home - these are all things that don't matter. Yet, they're things I've seen almost everyone focus on in some shape or form.

One other Americanism I completely forgot about was the ultimate need for privacy and space.
The first scenario occurred at a grocery store. I was at the checkout line and was putting my stuff on the belt. Now the person ahead of me had a good 3" between the rubber divider they place in between customers' purchases and where his purchases were sitting. Kind of like this:

I moved the guy's stuff slightly so I could stop holding the basket I had and get all the stuff onto the belt. The guy turned and glared at me and got all huffy. I thought the gentleman was being a bit unreasonable, but then the cashier ("Jerry P., Assistant Manager") looked my way and said, "I'll be with you soon, Ma'am." Sheesh.

The second scenario occurred when I ran into someone my parents know at a store and stopped to chat for a bit. I did the usual African way of greeting by asking about everything: How are you? And your dental practice? And your kids? That's good, so it's been a good year for you so far? After the 3rd question, I got a weird look from the guy, along with a "Is that all?" and decided it was best to just hurry and do what it was I needed to do in the store.

Culture shocks aside, the trip home has had it's perks. The primary one being seeing people I haven't seen in a year and a half, some for even longer bouts of time. The first few days home, I got a chance to catch up with some friends and relatives that I haven't seen in a while and have real heart-to-heart conversations. It was fantastic catching up with those select few and it's made me consider putting aside those plans for a third year extension with Peace Corps or that job offer in Niger with an NGO dealing with food security. It's time to come home: October 2007 is my current plan. And please don't ask the question of what I'll be doing after Peace Corps. First, I need to get back to the States and re-orient myself.

Observe the difference from what you normally are acquainted with:

Traditional hut from the village of Tiebele, Burkina Faso

Not your typical yacht.

Sunning oneself on the patio in the backyard. Except there's intense manual labor involved.

Market women selling calabashes and handmade mats in Djibo.

America was weird enough the first time around.

guess who's back?

2006-11-09T17:22:00.002-06:00

The past month or so was kind of an emotional rollercoaster. After my return from medevac in Senegal, I partook in a second Ramadan/Eid celebration in Djibo, which happened to fall on the same day I had arrived last year. It’s amazing what can change in a year. PETA, the goat I had bought back in September, was one of the main dishes for the community feast. Everyone seemed to be thrilled with the African complet I had tailored for the occasion (luckily no one pointed out the fact that I looked approximately 14 years old in it).

On the outset, not much looked different from last year’s celebration. I had gotten to site about 5 days before, and so didn’t really know what was going on and didn’t really celebrate with the community, since we were still strangers to one another. Looking back on old journal entries, those strangers quickly accepted me into their community, took care of me, my mom and aunt when they came to visit, and regard me as one of their own. Those strangers are now part of my extended family.

This realization was what brought on the emotional rollercoaster. Had I moved to another city in the States, where I knew no one, who’s to say I would have run across people as loving and hospitable as I have here? In the States, I would have at least had the advantage of knowing the local language, but I somehow doubt if I had been dropped in the middle of somewhere like Wichita, Kansas, where I would stick out like a sore thumb (much like I do here in Djibo), I would have had the same experience.

I have under a year left of service in Burkina Faso and I’m at a crossroads. I put a lot on hold before coming out here – job prospects, graduate school, my family, a serious relationship – and I still think about all those things. Yet, I’m nervous and even a bit wary of my re-integration back into the world I know. Where I come from, people have money, but are not generous with their hearts; they are well traveled, but never take the time to look past the subtleties offered to tourists and really understand people; they are familiar with time saving devices, but cannot take the time to ask you – really ask you – how you’re doing, how your work is, and how the family is.

My parents have shown unconditional support for something that they themselves were not familiar with in the beginning, and all my friends have been great in keeping in touch with emails, letters, and even Facebook messages. I think I’m lucky to have such support. As happy as I am to be able to see these people again, I’m scared of the big, scary thing called the USA.

Some pics from Senegal:

N'Gor, the Western most point on the continent of Africa. Photo taken at sunset.

Your's truly on the pirogue en route to N'Gor. Notice the Club Med in the background. And the lifejacket. Note that these are not common occurences for me.

The train station in Dakar.

Artisan work displayed on Goree Island (off the coast from Dakar)

Goree Beach. Perfect spot for escaping the hectic life in Dakar. I'm already seriously thinking of buying a house here.

Me with a friend during the post-Ramadan Eid celebration. I know, I look 12. Don't remind me.

the youth in asia

2006-10-04T10:46:00.000-06:00

You know what's worse than the actual process of having your wisdom teeth pulled out?
For starters, how about not speaking the same language as the man that's pulling them out.

But communication gaps aside, do you know what could be worse?
Perhaps not being knocked out and having local anesthesia applied.

No but since there was at least SOME anesthetic used, do you know what could be worse?
Seeing the entire spectacle in front of your very eyes through the oral surgeon's reflective lenses.

Right, but you saw how beautifully he sewed in those sutures - I mean, such needlework is rare! Seriously, do you know what's worse than that?
No? I'll tell you...

HAVING TO SNEEZE DURING THE WHOLE PROCESS.

Dr. Anderson Cooper (who dresses so impeccably and speaks French so fantastically) was aiding the oral surgeon and was looking at me curiously the whole time. "I didn't know if you were in pain or a state of euthanasia the whole time," he said later on. Pain or euthanasia. Go figure.

patience is a virtue

2006-09-29T05:31:00.002-06:00

After 14 months of taking bush taxis and busses that make Greyhound look like a luxury liner, I was stoked about taking an aeroplane. I didn't even mind that the ticket was Coach - I could still sleep a lot more comfortably in my seat than I ever could on transport between Ouagadougou and Djibo. No bumpy, unpaved roads, crying children, people talking loudly into my left ear in rapid Moore, chickens stowed under the seat squawking, and delays in getting to one's destination. Well, I take that last one back. One would think that leaving for a flight means that one will relatively be, oh, I don't know, on time. Observe the following interaction, translated into English for your convenience:

Ami

(overly optimistic for Dakar):

Good morning, I'd like to check in for the flight to Dakar that leaves in 2 hours.

Ticket Agent Lady

(peers over her glasses):

In a minute.

Ami
(notices that 10 minutes have passed, & that the queue behind has begun to snake into the waiting area; politely coughs)

Ticket Agent Lady
(continues doing work on the computer)

Ami
So, um, here is my ticket...and passport.

Ticket Agent Lady
(gives withering look):
Ok. Please be patient.

Ami
(waits another 10 minutes)
And, uh, I have only one bag to check in.

Ticket Agent Lady
Ah, bon.

Ami
(notices that plane is about to leave in less than an hour; peers over the counter to see what Ticket Agent Lady is doing on her computer)

(to self)
What the hell?! She's playing Solitaire?!

Nevertheless, I made it to Dakar, albeit a few delays on the plane. The Peace Corps vehicle escorted me to my hotel and there, I watched French game shows once I gave up on finding the English channel. I met up with the Regional Medical Officer this morning to have a consultation with the oral surgeon. I couldn't help but notice how impeccably dressed this doctor was & how much he resembled CNN's Anderson Cooper. This made me all the more self-conscious over my French, not to mention the fact that I wished I had gargled after breakfast when he & the oral surgeon both peered into my mouth to discuss what work needed to be done. When the oral surgeon (a Frenchman) asked if I was pregnant before taking the x-rays, I said "non, non" a little too hurriedly and laughed awkwardly as he inserted the camera into my mouth, causing me to slightly drool. (sigh) I would give my left arm for grace & charm.

perks of being a tool for the government

2006-09-27T14:13:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, I noticed that my tooth hurt and gums swelled everytime I brushed. I tried to ignore it, but it turned into an ordeal that was like that annoying song Jenny From the Block. First it hurt a little then it hurt a lot. So after having the Peace Corps Medical Officer ship some painkillers to me, I caught transport to Ouagadougou and got it checked out by a dentist, who said she would call the PC office with the results.

The verdict?

(wait for it)

"You have swollen gums due to brushing."

Duh. The question is why are my gums swelling whenever I brush? A second opinion got in some x-rays and a phone call to Peace Corps Washington.

The second verdict?
Impacted upper wisdom teeth that need to be removed.

Which means?
A trip to Dakar, Senegal, to have said teeth removed, because there aren't facilities here in Burkina to do it.

So, I fly out tomorrow at noon and return sometime next week. I'm not exactly thrilled about having my teeth yanked out, but I do enjoy being able to brush my teeth without too many consequences. On top of that, I'm pretty stoked about seeing Dakar for a few days while staying in a nice hotel that has AC & a pool (you have no idea what a huge step up that is from my normal living situations). I'll post pictures of Dakar in my next post. Perhaps I'll be in them if my face isn't too grotesquely swollen.

the woes of technology

2006-09-17T07:58:00.002-06:00

Friends, romans, countrymen...lend me your ears;
I come to bury Facebook, not to praise it.
The inanity that creators do in praise for them;
The good is oft interred with their updates;
So let it be with Facebook.

I wanted updates while living here in Africa. I just didn't really care to know that a long lost childhood friend wrote on his/her friend's wall and then the friend replied. Or that one of my PC friends (who I really didn't know before living in the Faso) has added John So-&-So as his/her friend. Who cares? Of course, once I publish this blog, my profile will update my status saying "Ami has added to her blog!!" Really...no one should care.

Maybe we should all cancel Facebook and start stalking each other in real life. Or maybe not.

my pet goat (or, the vegetarian who was rejected from PETA)

2006-09-15T02:47:00.000-06:00

The pet camel, as we all know, was turning out to be an expensive pet. Not to mention the fact that it scared Hama, my neighbor, and kept spitting on Hama's laundry whenever it was put on the line to dry. In lieu of "Spitty Cent", there is now a white goat tied to a tree in my yard. The thing was cute at first (and like, 10 bucks), but geez, it's also annoyingly loud. All night it bleats and starts up again in the morning when the 4:45am azan sounds off. In just a few weeks, everyone will start a 30-day fast for Ramadan which will go from sunrise to sunset. I'm currently thinking of contributing it to the community for the Eid celebrations in October as an act of goodwill & good riddance.

Currently: Saying goodbye to fellow PCVs that have finished their service and going back to the States. Bon voyage et du courage =)

say cheese: an update in photos

2006-08-27T16:53:00.000-06:00

First, let's start off with a pic of your's truly. I realize it's been over a year since you've seen mug shots, so the following is from the Swear-In ceremony held this past Friday - congratz to all the new Volunteers!

Downtown Lome, Togo (so happening)

The Point of No Return in Ouidah. This place was a haunting memorial to the slaves that were taken captive.

The stilt village of Ganvié in Benin. most of these people escaped Cotonou (the capital) to settle on the ocean a few hundred years ago for protection because the main warrior class in Benin is not allowed to traverse water. It's an incredibly touristy place, but was still worth seeing.

***

I meant to have a bigger update, but loading a grand total of 4 pictures just took away a 20 minutes of my life that I will never get back again. Ever. So in a nutshell, that's it.

lonely planet: my choice of literature for the past 10 days

2006-08-23T16:59:00.000-06:00

Disclaimer: In the past 3 days, I have spent a grand total of 28 hours on 3 different bush taxis, cramped against the dashboard, listening to Togolese nationals argue loudly in Ewe (eh-vay) on the merits of Ivorian music versus Togolese music, with cigarette smoke from the chauffeur's nasty habit seeping into my eyes and fumes from the taxi seeping into the rest of my senses, and as a Fulani woman from Burkina Faso kept jabbing me in the back with her elbow and asking if I was a Fulani as well. This post may not be the most coherent, as I am incredibly tired.

Next to the country of Nigeria (where your spam comes from) and below Anderson Cooper's Niger is the tiny African nation of Benin. Last week, I hopped on the bus met my fellow PCV Anna in the capital, Cotonou. Benin has a lot of interesting things to see for tourists - the voodoo markets being the main attraction, the beautiful plateau that attracts a lot of hikers, and the "stilt villages" - villages built on stilts over water for protection from slave traders. Anna and I spent a few days checking out most of these attractions and meeting up with PCVs in Benin and backpackers. Being a Peace Corps Volunteer who lives amongst locals in a community and adopts the habits of host country nationals, it's almost mortifying to find yourself in the company of other westerners with large cameras and camcorders, telling locals how to smile and position themselves for the camera and bastardizing the experience by making all ceremonies and performances for the rich foreigner's benefit. Nevertheless, I saw some interesting things. The Beninois markets were just as lively as many of the West African markets tend to be, but this time with fetishes (things you practice voodoo with). Ouidah was fascinating and had a lot of scenic views, despite the tourists asking how much the Yoruba masks were (I stood to the side and cringed because Ouidah itself is not an area of Benin that has mask festivals). Once it was clear that we had seen everything we were interested in seeing in Benin, we decided to hop the border to Togo.

Togo is even tinier than Benin, and even more awesome. Why is it so awesome? For one thing, it's even more laid back than Benin, not overrun by tourists, and incredibly beautiful. We got into Lomé in about an hour and headed to the beach as soon as we checked into our hotel. The problem with beaches in both of these countries is that they aren't exactly sanitary, so after an hour of admiring the crystal blue waters and wrinkling our noses from the smell, we headed back out into town. Thanks to the Togo PCVs we met up with, Anna and I got a chance to experience Lomé on a Friday and Saturday night. Bar crawls that include Madonna karaoke (to the new album, I might add), with US Marines, Hebrew toasts to a very nice Lebanese bar manager, and me dropping 2000 CFA (roughly $4) because I didn't believe the Togolese describing a cocktail on fire, and ending up in a house that had signs indicating directions in German. This is all very random and sadly true. After a fantastic 3 days in Lomé, we headed up to Sokodé, in central Togo. It wasn't as tropical as the south was, but still stunning. In Sokodé, I randomly met a fellow GW alum and spent a few hours catching up on mutual 2nd and 3rd degree friends. It was all very random - just like the past 12 months have been. After Sokodé, we continued our trek back to Ouaga and stopped in Dapoang (roughly 50km from the Faso border).

The trip itself was short, but sweet. I'm glad to have avoided tourists for the most part of this trip and fairly revved to be back in Burkina to start up new activities and projects back in Djibo. In just a few days, the new Volunteers in the Soum province will be coming up to start their service - they seem very enthusiastic and I am confident that they will do well in their service.

currently listening to: The call for prayer. I need to catch some sleep.
currently hoping for: A night with no mosquito bites. Insh'Allah.

five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes

2006-08-11T18:00:00.000-06:00

It’s been one year in the Faso (already?). I was sitting in Djibo with 2 other PCVs, celebrating our duration and the day came and went. I’ve gone from thinking that every day is a challenge to wondering how long it will be until I Swear-In and move to Djibo to hoping I’ll make it to In-Service Training (IST is, conveniently, the French abbreviation for STDs, btw) to realizing I have a hang of things after all and don't come by awkward moments as often. Sweetness.

Former Volunteers have warned me that there’s the slump that most people hit once they’ve completed a year and realize they still have 14-15 months left to go before they do their Close of Service (COS). Though I’m expecting it to come, I’m trying to concentrate on what all I’m looking forward to for the rest of 2006 – Togo & Benin trip this month, the harvest in September and the arrival of new Volunteers in my province, the Ramadan festivities & one year mark in Djibo in late October, Thanksgiving with all the Volunteers, and finally, visiting the States end of December for a few weeks.

I hope you all continue to write your letters! They've been especially a source of inspiration and smiles. A lot of people claim they don't write because they feel there is nothing interesting in their lives. How freakin' WRONG you are. Write about everything and anything. What the weather is like. What you ate for lunch. Why you think Britney Spears is still with that monkey Kevin Federline. What the latest episode of your favorite sitcom was about. Because all these are the little details that I'm missing in my life right now and they are the details that make all the difference. Send pictures, the latest ad from the Gap, or any other source of inspiration you can think of. And if you're intimidated by writing out a letter by hand, then type it out. Hell, you can write me 3 lines on a greasy napkin and I'll be excited to have it arrive in my box in Djibo. So please do write.

Currently enjoying: High speed internet.
Currently listening to: White Shadows, Coldplay (feel free to email me MP3s or mail me CDs. No Celine Dion, for the love of God)

this is how rumors get started

2006-07-03T17:38:00.000-06:00

I've been in Djibo now for over 8 months , and there are still moments when I'm thrown by some random surprise. The volunteer I replaced did an excellent job in introducing the Peace Corps philosophy to the community. Most of my work is furthering the development of the artisan's association I was assigned to work with and my latest primary task has been to set up the headquarters that Andy had left them with. As a replacement, I've continually been worried about not being "good enough" and sometimes wonder if my community expects me to contribute something like a building. I guess I don't have to worry about that, anymore...

Random man:

(approaches me and recites Arabic phrases)

Me:

I don't understand what you're saying.

Random man:

It is a Quranic verse to thank you for your contribution.

Me:

Thanks?

Random man:

Mashallah, we have cause to celebrate!

Me:
I seriously have no idea what you are talking about.

Random man
(looking at me annoyed):
It is to say thank you.

At this point, I walked away, because I was getting kind of annoyed that the conversation was taking a circuitous turn (pun not intended). Later in the week, people continued to come up to me to shake my hand and thank me. I found it to be absolutely weird. Thank you for what? My counterpart, Malik, happened to be walking through town with me one day when yet another grateful stranger approached me and thanked me again.

Malik
(attempting to hide a smirk):
He's thanking you for building [the 16th] mosque.

Me:
What?

Malik
(laughing):
He thinks you were the one who financed the mosque. He didn't know if it was for real, but then 8 months ago (read: time I got to Djibo), they cleared the land and started construction. Then he saw the parapets and realized it was all true.

Me:
But I didn't build or finance the mosque...

Malik:
Well, you do look Arab to most of us.

Me:

Some Saudi is financing this and is not going to be happy that I'm getting credit for his mosque.

Malik:
I wouldn't worry too much about it.

Me:

What are you talking about?

Malik:
Andy gave us our association headquarters and you gave us the mosque. (laughs) There isn't anything greater than that.

Me:

My replacement is going to hate me.

***

Currently watching: The Constant Gardener. Ralph Fiennes is so polished in every movie he makes. Even the one where he plays a Nazi.
Currently craving: Chocolate pancakes. Hmm...
Currently thinking about: The Marathi Youth "conwension" that happened this weekend in Chicago. Am totally wishing I was there. Guess there's always the one in 2008.

snafus: mind, body, and posts

2006-06-29T11:33:00.000-06:00

I've been having a hard time getting posts published...mainly because I was trying to write the HTML on my own before caving into blogspot's (sigh) generic templates that make you want to pull your hair out as you try to work the details. But the blog is here to stay over Xanga, so spread the good word. Or, expect to hear from my mom who became the advertising manager for the last one.

I've been here in Ouaga for additional training and not too long ago, some long running problem with my wrist started acting up again. I talked to the Medical Officer (PCMO, if you will) and since the x-rays show that there are no broken bones, I've kept in wrapped in an Ace bandage to give it a bit of support. If I had known that going around Ouaga posing as an invalid would mean no more bargaining for taxis with drivers that always try to quadruple prices for foreigners, people always approaching you to carry your groceries or anything heavy, or just being extra efficient in a country where one often wonders if such a concept exists, I would have seriously talked to the PCMO about this much sooner. And would have told other PCVs to join the bandwagon.

While here in Ouaga for Peer Support Network training (how to give hugs to other PCVs), I got an email from an old friend I knew back in high school. We'll call her Melissa. I was good friends with her back in the day and kept in touch with her pretty regularly throughout college but through the Africa Factor, the communication sort of cut out. After about a year of not hearing from her, I sent her an email asking her how everything is going, how our mutual friends are, and what she's been up to lately. Melissa is now done with her first year of law school at a school most of us would give our first born son to get into. Is engaged to a med student. Is looking great, because oh that's right...she does modelling on the side of contracts and torts. And is spending the summer in Italy brushing up on her Italian, with weekend getaways to the Balearic & Grecian Isles, because that's where her latest month long shooting is and that's where she's planning the wedding. A wedding I'm invited to.

Seriously...damn. I couldn't help but feel just a bit insignificant, given that a good day for me sometimes consists of taking a hot shower in Ouaga and eating pizza. I mean, my French doesn't sound as cool as the people in Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain , and sometimes I find myself just smiling and nodding, which is probably why people think I'm fluent. Though thanks to a concerted effort to learn Fulfulde, I can now say that I speak the local language of the people living in Timbuktu. And I did learn that I can sound witty by saying plebian things like "La vie est une maladie mortelle sexuellement transmissible." Ah, sweet success.

Anyway, not sure what the point of this post was...but...go Melissa!

Days until one year in Burkina: 35
Next anticipated travel destination: Togo & Benin
Current listening to: MOBY - South Side

houston, we are go for launch

2006-06-19T18:43:00.000-06:00

In need of a change, I caved into the flashy appeals of blogspot (read: Xanga wouldn't let me enter code for a pretty blinkbox like the one up top). Looking back on my old xanga entries, I don't know whether to laugh or cringe that I made a lot of those entries public. The ones that seem the oddest to look back on are the ones from my college days at GWU. I was seriously worried about that senior thesis. And so many other things that no longer matter.

Anyway, this site is here to stay, but the layout will be edited over time and hopefully before I finish my service, I'll be a bit more comfortable with HTML code and have a satisfactory looking site. Any and all suggestions are welcome (btw, anyone know how to move Xanga entries into an archives for this site?). Since living in the African brush, my knowledge on html codes become a bit rusty, so I'll take whatever help I can get. But for now, I'm going to revel in accomplishing a few lines of text and the flashy new blinkbox

Later doods.