Our volunteers have been here for almost an entire week. On Monday, all of our volunteers who are interested in health went to the Tavua Hospital (one of the smallest on Viti Levu). Dr. Dasi, the young ambitious Indian woman who is the newly appointed head administrator of the hospital, met us and spoke excitedly about her plans to improve the hospital and how our volunteers could help. She wants our volunteers to plan 6 public health events this summer as well as visit schools in the interior of the island. We also talked with her about building a Square-Foot Garden at the hospital that could supplement the cost of patient food, and act as a model garden. She was very excited about this idea and our Project Lead, Nate, got the work started that very morning.
We were taken to a dense piece of jungle just below the main grounds of the hospital. We got machetes and gloves and began pulling the gigantic weeds out of the ground. The bush was taller the 6 feet in some places and we set a goal of clearing a 10 feet radius that day. Soon people passing by the hospital started to gather to watch the silly Americans try to cut the bush. Some joined in, teaching us more effective ways of clearing. Our group got really into it and the cleared space grew faster than we expected. In the afternoon the hospital staff joined us and we cleared a space of 150ft X 50ft space. Several huge mounds of hospital trash and dried brush accumulated along the sides of the clearing. Curiously, the Health Inspector and the Head Physician lit the rubbish stacks on fire to burn them down. When I asked them about the wisdom of burning the medical waste, the Health Inspector dismissed the thought and began ranting about pollution in America and how no one there could see the sky.
I took volunteers back to Rukuruku and Nabuna villages this week. In Nabuna we met with the women and discussed the stove we will build there next week. When the meeting was over we stayed there, played rugby and danced with the kids. The women gathered around, laughing hysterically at our dancing and pushing their children forward to show Fijian action songs. Then, the men invited us over for kava and we sat with them under a huge shade tree.
Later in the week we met with the men, women, and youth in Rukuruku. I am not sure if it was because the meeting wasn’t ceremonial, or if it was because David wasn’t accompanying me, but I did not feel the pressure to remain silent as I had in the introduction. In fact, I was ushered to the front of the mat and encouraged to address the entire group.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Village Meetings
Bishop David and his wife, Flo, have been unbelievably helpful in getting us in contact with village elders. It is very rude to simply enter a village uninvited and all work must be done through headmen. We must first meet with the headmen and ask their permission.
This is done through a short introduction ceremony where we present what is called a sevusevu. I had read about this in one of my travel books, but had no idea how it played out in reality, and that it is taken very seriously.
Tuesday we had our first such meeting with Vailuakulia Village. David, my co-director and I met with Rusila early in the morning and bought special kava that is still in the root form (before it is ground) and get it festively wrapped in brown paper and raffia-like string. We then took a taxi that again dropped us in the middle of sugar cane fields. After a few minutes we reached the village and sat in Rusila’s Auntie’s house where we were to met by the spokesperson and gave him the kava. Once the headmen were ready, the spokesman led us to where they were seated on a grass mat. On the walk over Rusila explained that placement on the mat is very important. Those with most authority sit at the top of the mat and those with less authority and women sit further back. However, it can be tricky to know which is the top. Luckily, one of the men pointed to where we should go. We take off our shoes, and sat crossed legged facing the top of the mat.
The spokesman held out the sevusevu, placed it in front of him, and announced something in Fijian. The headmen chanted something then clapped, which surprised me so much I had to repress a sudden grasp. The sevusevu was then passed to another man that made a different, longer proclamation, followed by more chanting and clapping. The spokesman looked at David and asked him to introduce us. He talked about HELP and the type of projects that we could work on and asked them to explain the needs that exist in their village. The men began asking questions about the business training and small farming. When I tried to answer, the men looked at David and there was an awkward pause. So, David tried calling on me to answer questions. I would give an explanation; the response would then be directed to David, who would either answer or refer to me again. Eventually, one of the women spoke up to ask David questions about 1st aid and English literacy. Once the women began talking, I was more free to answer questions and add opinions. However, I quickly noticed that any sort of assertive tendencies from me were not appreciate and responded to with silence. I tried to lean away from by proclivity to be dominant and speak only when I thought the conversation needed to be steered in one direction or another.
Tuesday night we met with Nabuna Village which we were told was a bit more closed and traditional that Vailuakulia. This time we were accompanied by Flo, Rusila, Tui, Vika, and a few others. Flo sat next to me as we waited to be led to were the headman sat and explained that the village might not accept us. She explained that they are worried that we are a church group that would interfere with the work that the Salvation Army might do in their Nabuna. We had to wait much longer than in Vailuakulia. The long build-up and the fact it was dark, gave the walk to the headmen an almost eerie feel. As we approached the mat, we didn’t know where the top was and there was an awkward break. David was pushed to the top of the mat and I followed Flo to sit behind with the women. There was brief whispering and I was directed to move in front just below David. It is rude to stand completely upright and walk on the mat and even more rude to cross between people. So I had to crouch, walk on the perimeter on the mat and say “Tulo” (excuse me) for each person I passed. I felt ridiculous.
Rusila was asked to come sit between David and so she could translate for him. She giggled quietly and whispered to me that she felt very silly sitting at the top of the mat. The same sevusevu introduction unfolded and David began speaking. After a brief explanation, he waited for response. Being used to American flow of conversation, he began to feel uncomfortable after 30 seconds of silence and begin talking again, then asking for feedback. This cycle happened a couple times until I touched him on the knee and whispered that he should be patient and let the silence settle for a bit. After a moment one of the headmen nodded “vinaka” and small groups broke out into whispers. Eventually, the whispering developed into questions, and the discussion evolved naturally from there. David and I started to develop a better pattern of presenting. I would let all questions go to him first, instead of trying to answer awkwardly. If David wanting me to answer or he could detect I had something to say, he would ask me to explain. I tried to do so humbly, looking at David periodically to indicate I wasn’t taking his thunder. Often I would simply whisper things for David to repeat to the whole group.
The first questions came from the men. They were skeptical about the business training and explained that there has already been a group teaching business training in the village, and what they needed now were loans to start small businesses. The conversation was leaning towards the men deciding they might not need us, when one of the women spoke up. She got permission to speak then meekly asked about the stoves we could teach build and all the women reacted excitedly as I explained the concept. The direction quickly shifted as the women began to explain why they needed stoves with chimneys. The men seemed to nod it capitulation, and it was decided that we would start next week.
As we left, I asked Tui when and how I should speak. He smiled kindly then looked to David and said, “Ashley should feel free.”
As a liberal, independent, American women- and a particularly stubborn, outspoken one at that- I have to admit that this patriarchal society is a bit hard for me to take. However, in spite their submission in public gatherings, the women here seem to be an empowered, respected part of society. In fact, it is the women here who move things forward. I am trying to study them and discover their subtle way of making things happen. I am thinking that there might be strength to silence. As I have been focusing on what is being heard, rather than what is being said, I have been better able to gage the reaction of participants, and subtly steer the conversation to fit the group.
This is done through a short introduction ceremony where we present what is called a sevusevu. I had read about this in one of my travel books, but had no idea how it played out in reality, and that it is taken very seriously.
Tuesday we had our first such meeting with Vailuakulia Village. David, my co-director and I met with Rusila early in the morning and bought special kava that is still in the root form (before it is ground) and get it festively wrapped in brown paper and raffia-like string. We then took a taxi that again dropped us in the middle of sugar cane fields. After a few minutes we reached the village and sat in Rusila’s Auntie’s house where we were to met by the spokesperson and gave him the kava. Once the headmen were ready, the spokesman led us to where they were seated on a grass mat. On the walk over Rusila explained that placement on the mat is very important. Those with most authority sit at the top of the mat and those with less authority and women sit further back. However, it can be tricky to know which is the top. Luckily, one of the men pointed to where we should go. We take off our shoes, and sat crossed legged facing the top of the mat.
The spokesman held out the sevusevu, placed it in front of him, and announced something in Fijian. The headmen chanted something then clapped, which surprised me so much I had to repress a sudden grasp. The sevusevu was then passed to another man that made a different, longer proclamation, followed by more chanting and clapping. The spokesman looked at David and asked him to introduce us. He talked about HELP and the type of projects that we could work on and asked them to explain the needs that exist in their village. The men began asking questions about the business training and small farming. When I tried to answer, the men looked at David and there was an awkward pause. So, David tried calling on me to answer questions. I would give an explanation; the response would then be directed to David, who would either answer or refer to me again. Eventually, one of the women spoke up to ask David questions about 1st aid and English literacy. Once the women began talking, I was more free to answer questions and add opinions. However, I quickly noticed that any sort of assertive tendencies from me were not appreciate and responded to with silence. I tried to lean away from by proclivity to be dominant and speak only when I thought the conversation needed to be steered in one direction or another.
Tuesday night we met with Nabuna Village which we were told was a bit more closed and traditional that Vailuakulia. This time we were accompanied by Flo, Rusila, Tui, Vika, and a few others. Flo sat next to me as we waited to be led to were the headman sat and explained that the village might not accept us. She explained that they are worried that we are a church group that would interfere with the work that the Salvation Army might do in their Nabuna. We had to wait much longer than in Vailuakulia. The long build-up and the fact it was dark, gave the walk to the headmen an almost eerie feel. As we approached the mat, we didn’t know where the top was and there was an awkward break. David was pushed to the top of the mat and I followed Flo to sit behind with the women. There was brief whispering and I was directed to move in front just below David. It is rude to stand completely upright and walk on the mat and even more rude to cross between people. So I had to crouch, walk on the perimeter on the mat and say “Tulo” (excuse me) for each person I passed. I felt ridiculous.
Rusila was asked to come sit between David and so she could translate for him. She giggled quietly and whispered to me that she felt very silly sitting at the top of the mat. The same sevusevu introduction unfolded and David began speaking. After a brief explanation, he waited for response. Being used to American flow of conversation, he began to feel uncomfortable after 30 seconds of silence and begin talking again, then asking for feedback. This cycle happened a couple times until I touched him on the knee and whispered that he should be patient and let the silence settle for a bit. After a moment one of the headmen nodded “vinaka” and small groups broke out into whispers. Eventually, the whispering developed into questions, and the discussion evolved naturally from there. David and I started to develop a better pattern of presenting. I would let all questions go to him first, instead of trying to answer awkwardly. If David wanting me to answer or he could detect I had something to say, he would ask me to explain. I tried to do so humbly, looking at David periodically to indicate I wasn’t taking his thunder. Often I would simply whisper things for David to repeat to the whole group.
The first questions came from the men. They were skeptical about the business training and explained that there has already been a group teaching business training in the village, and what they needed now were loans to start small businesses. The conversation was leaning towards the men deciding they might not need us, when one of the women spoke up. She got permission to speak then meekly asked about the stoves we could teach build and all the women reacted excitedly as I explained the concept. The direction quickly shifted as the women began to explain why they needed stoves with chimneys. The men seemed to nod it capitulation, and it was decided that we would start next week.
As we left, I asked Tui when and how I should speak. He smiled kindly then looked to David and said, “Ashley should feel free.”
As a liberal, independent, American women- and a particularly stubborn, outspoken one at that- I have to admit that this patriarchal society is a bit hard for me to take. However, in spite their submission in public gatherings, the women here seem to be an empowered, respected part of society. In fact, it is the women here who move things forward. I am trying to study them and discover their subtle way of making things happen. I am thinking that there might be strength to silence. As I have been focusing on what is being heard, rather than what is being said, I have been better able to gage the reaction of participants, and subtly steer the conversation to fit the group.
Yauladrou
On Monday we woke up early and met our friend Rusila. We are going to hire Rusila as our cook, but she has also offered to accompany us during this first week to introduce us to people and translate in our initial meetings. We took the bus to Yauladrou and got off in the middle of the sugar cane fields. We walked up the hill of a long gravel road and found a small house made of randomly-fit pieces of corrugated metal. It sat on a small, tidily-kept plot of land that had been gardened with flowers, blooming fruit trees of every kind, and haphazardly placed rows of vegetables. In front stood a small, but sturdy man with a toothy grin. He greeted us “Bula vinaka” and welcomed us inside, where we were shortly met by his wife who sat with us and offered us the most delicious lemon juice I have ever had. David and I practiced our Fijian phrases awkwardly as the room slowly filled with community members.
This was a group of 9 houses that are part of the Fijian government’s social welfare program. They receive $30 US per month from the government, which they rely on almost entirely. Almost all are widows and many had some sort of disability. Most of the women were Indo-Fijian except for our host and a women named Elesi and her niece.
David introduced us and we explained the purpose of our organization and the projects we might be able to work on together. We asked them to explain their needs to us. All of this was translated into Hindu and Fijian, and the room hung in silence. After a few minutes, Elesi started to tell this story, which was translated and added to by other people in the room: Several years back an NGO came to the community saying they would bring running water and build toilets in each of the homes. The women were extremely excited to have access to water and sanitation in their homes, not least because of their various immobilities. They were told that they needed to open a bank account and save 1000 Fijian Dollars before the work could begin.
They had weekly meetings for four years, in which members were expected to contribute as much as they could. Finally, they reached 1000 and the organization came to install the promised water and toilets. The community was overjoyed as the first 3 homes were finished. Then suddenly the organization said they ran out of money and left. They left 4 homes unfinished. Looking at the problem, we found that all that was keeping these women from receiving their water was a few feet of piping. The toilets and water systems have now been sitting unused for 2 years, for lack of about $20 and an hour of work each.
This tragic shirking by the NGO, is frustratingly common. It points back to one of the major pitfalls of non-profit organizations: the is no accountability. Unlike for-profit businesses that are paid by the beneficiaries and have incentive to deliver quality goods and services, non-profits get paid by granting organizations and fundraising and have incentive to be good fundraisers, and all too often, not good service providers.
What was even more disturbing about Yauladrou is that the women there had no sense of empowerment. They relied on the government, outside organizations, and William (the small sturdy man who had welcomed us). As we began discussing possibilities of starting a cooperative business or teaching backyard farming, they seemed reluctant. They explained that they had tried businesses before, but they were too much work and didn’t produce profits. We tried to apprehend why the efforts had failed, but the conversation became overrun by complaining about how they hadn’t been visited by the government or NGOs in such a long time and what they really wanted was their toilets, water, and other new home repairs. I explained that didn’t want to just give them things, but wanted to create a way for them to be more self reliant, so they didn’t have to rely on organizations to come by to improve their lives. They nodded and said “vinaka” (thank you), then began explaining the hardships of starting a business without a husband. We went in circles like this for some time, then decided to come back next week when we would decide together what projects could be done.
Even though this Yauladrou government housing settlement includes some of the most needy people, it is hard to see a sustainable way to help them. First people must feel empowered, capable, hopeful, and eager to work, before any real change can be made. Maybe we can do that, or maybe the expectation left from years of ineffective aid will be too much for us to tackle.
This was a group of 9 houses that are part of the Fijian government’s social welfare program. They receive $30 US per month from the government, which they rely on almost entirely. Almost all are widows and many had some sort of disability. Most of the women were Indo-Fijian except for our host and a women named Elesi and her niece.
David introduced us and we explained the purpose of our organization and the projects we might be able to work on together. We asked them to explain their needs to us. All of this was translated into Hindu and Fijian, and the room hung in silence. After a few minutes, Elesi started to tell this story, which was translated and added to by other people in the room: Several years back an NGO came to the community saying they would bring running water and build toilets in each of the homes. The women were extremely excited to have access to water and sanitation in their homes, not least because of their various immobilities. They were told that they needed to open a bank account and save 1000 Fijian Dollars before the work could begin.
They had weekly meetings for four years, in which members were expected to contribute as much as they could. Finally, they reached 1000 and the organization came to install the promised water and toilets. The community was overjoyed as the first 3 homes were finished. Then suddenly the organization said they ran out of money and left. They left 4 homes unfinished. Looking at the problem, we found that all that was keeping these women from receiving their water was a few feet of piping. The toilets and water systems have now been sitting unused for 2 years, for lack of about $20 and an hour of work each.
This tragic shirking by the NGO, is frustratingly common. It points back to one of the major pitfalls of non-profit organizations: the is no accountability. Unlike for-profit businesses that are paid by the beneficiaries and have incentive to deliver quality goods and services, non-profits get paid by granting organizations and fundraising and have incentive to be good fundraisers, and all too often, not good service providers.
What was even more disturbing about Yauladrou is that the women there had no sense of empowerment. They relied on the government, outside organizations, and William (the small sturdy man who had welcomed us). As we began discussing possibilities of starting a cooperative business or teaching backyard farming, they seemed reluctant. They explained that they had tried businesses before, but they were too much work and didn’t produce profits. We tried to apprehend why the efforts had failed, but the conversation became overrun by complaining about how they hadn’t been visited by the government or NGOs in such a long time and what they really wanted was their toilets, water, and other new home repairs. I explained that didn’t want to just give them things, but wanted to create a way for them to be more self reliant, so they didn’t have to rely on organizations to come by to improve their lives. They nodded and said “vinaka” (thank you), then began explaining the hardships of starting a business without a husband. We went in circles like this for some time, then decided to come back next week when we would decide together what projects could be done.
Even though this Yauladrou government housing settlement includes some of the most needy people, it is hard to see a sustainable way to help them. First people must feel empowered, capable, hopeful, and eager to work, before any real change can be made. Maybe we can do that, or maybe the expectation left from years of ineffective aid will be too much for us to tackle.
Moving In
After driving the circumference of the Viti Levu twice, scoping out locations to base our projects, we finally decided (and got Board approval) to move to Tavua. We have found a 3-bedroom house with a large living room which can be portioned off to make a 4th bedroom. There is a large bathroom with a shower, bathtub, and toilet. In one of the rooms there is a toilet and sink. There is a patio in the front and back of the house as well as eggplant bush, mango tree, lime tree, and banana trees. The house is on a hill that overlooks all of Tavua and the sea.
On Saturday we conducted an army of Tavua volunteers that came to help us purchase supplies, scrub the floors, and carry in and put-together 7 bunkbeds. On breaks we would sit and eat the wi (a green sour fibrous apple-like fruit) that grows on one of our trees in the backyard.
Sunday we went to the LDS ward in Tavua. I sat in on an Fijian-speaking Sunday school class in which they would look at me every so often, give a few word English description of the topic, and ask to hear my thoughts. When the entire congregation came together we realized we were lucky enough to be there on the first Sunday of the month. This is the Sunday that instead of having prepared talks, audience members are invited to stand at the pulpit for a few minutes and talk about their testimonies.
In every Mormon Church I have previously been to, the content of these mini-speeches tend to vary widely and tend to include melodramatic stories of trails or convoluted stories of semi-miraculous occurrences. But the testimonies given in this meeting were honest, terse, and fairly similar to each other. People talked about believing God, following Christ, and how they loved each other. And they did all of this is about half the time and church ended early!
On Saturday we conducted an army of Tavua volunteers that came to help us purchase supplies, scrub the floors, and carry in and put-together 7 bunkbeds. On breaks we would sit and eat the wi (a green sour fibrous apple-like fruit) that grows on one of our trees in the backyard.
Sunday we went to the LDS ward in Tavua. I sat in on an Fijian-speaking Sunday school class in which they would look at me every so often, give a few word English description of the topic, and ask to hear my thoughts. When the entire congregation came together we realized we were lucky enough to be there on the first Sunday of the month. This is the Sunday that instead of having prepared talks, audience members are invited to stand at the pulpit for a few minutes and talk about their testimonies.
In every Mormon Church I have previously been to, the content of these mini-speeches tend to vary widely and tend to include melodramatic stories of trails or convoluted stories of semi-miraculous occurrences. But the testimonies given in this meeting were honest, terse, and fairly similar to each other. People talked about believing God, following Christ, and how they loved each other. And they did all of this is about half the time and church ended early!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Kava
Like in Provo everything shuts down in Suva (the capital) on Sunday. Unlike Provo, there is loud evangelical music bursting from churches that poka dot the city. With no work to do, David and I decide to take a bus to the beach. We knew there were tourist destinations in Navua, so we had the bus drop us off on the bridge by that town, and started walking in the direction of the sea. We barely reached town when we were flagged down by a round, friendly, barefoot man. He asked where were we going and informed us that there weren’t any nice beaches in that part. I think he felt bad for us, so he welcomed us inside and gave us a some kava (traditional drink made of root crop). He caught us a cab to Pacific Harbor and found us a beautiful beach.As we were exploring, we ran into a group of extremely friendly Fijian men. They were from a settlement nearby and had come to the beach to smoke herbs and relax after church. They asked us our names and I practiced my newly forming Fijian on them. Minutes later our new best friends were ushering us into their home. We sat on a mat with their family and they fed us root plants and corn beef wrapped in leaves. They also offered us Kava which we drank for hours as we told each other about our family and our lives. They were interested to hear about the customs in Uganda, a country they had heard little of expect for the infamous Idi Amin. I also devulged my entire relationship history to the women while my mouth grew numb. David sat with the head of the house laughing about something.
--- When you drink kava there are rules about claping, saying "Bula! (life)", drinking it in one go, and returning the cup, saying "vinaka (thank you)", and clapping again. The kava is passed in a circle until it is finished.
There were tons of kids playing around and periodically they would muster the English to ask me a question and giggle as I tried to respond in Fijian. When the bowls of kava were finally finished, the children sang us some songs and we said our goodbyes. They pleaded for us to come back and visit again, and then they would cook us a real feast.
One of the men walked us to the bus stage and waited with us for about 45 minutes. He explained that him and his cousins, whom we had met, made their money from growing and selling “relaxing herbs”. He explained the intricacies of the business. He also taught us about Rugby, the most popular sport here, and boasted of his club team’s resent wins.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Tavua
On Saturday we decided to go to the other side of the island to check out Latoka, Ba, and Tavua. These places were hard-hit by the flooding in January and we heard that there is a lot of need on that side of the island. We started at 7:30 am and took a 4-hour bus ride to Nadi, we were then met by an Indo-Fijian man named Prakesh. Prakesh is a contact of our friend in Suva, Peter Lee, and agreed to drive us to the three sights we wanted to check out. We then spent the next 4 hours in a hot sticky car driving from location to location. We got out periodically to meet with potential partners and survey the area. Nothing jumped out until we got to Tavua. It is a beautiful town nestled between mountains and sea, with florescent green jungle outlining its edges. Tavua is small and surrounded by villages within walking distance. We met with an LDS bishop and his wife and explained the purpose of HELP. Then, David asked about different needs in the community. The bishop’s wife asked to speak and began detailing projects that fit so perfectly into what HELP is trying to do, that I got visibly giddy. Her and I spoke excitedly about possibilities to help in Tavua. We went on to discuss logistical matters with the larger group and as we stepped into the car, David and I were sold. I probably shouldn’t write that in my blog, especially since we they are a million different factors we have to look into and weigh before we make a final decision, but the reality of that moment was that I thought Tavua would be perfect.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Bula!
Bula! I will be spending this summer in one of the most beautiful places on Earth, Fiji. Again, I am a Country Director for HELP International and will be responsible for overseeing about 24 volunteers who will set up development projects here. Our vision is to empower communities to help themselves by giving them training and resources to improve their lives. As a Country Director I mentor our volunteers in development practice. They are all college students and young professionals who will match their skills with needs that are expressed by the community.
After my incredible experience in Uganda last year, I knew I wanted to do this again. HELP has an incredible impact on the ground because we listen to the partner organizations we work with and generate the ideas for our projects from the people we serve. Even more, our volunteers’ lives are changed forever. They gain insight that if found only by living among another culture and working together. They also gain the skills and experience necessary to continue to be social entrepreneurs for the rest of their lives.
This summer my co-director is David. Him and I arrived in Fiji April 23rd. We have until May 6th to choose a village to work in, rent a home, hire a cook, buy beds and other supplies, and begin making partnerships and discussing possible projects.
In the few days I have been here I have fallen in love with Fiji and its people. I have never imaged a culture that is so communal and giving.
We are staying in a backpackers’ hostel in Suva. It is managed by a German guy who came to Fiji over 8 years ago and decided to stay. There is also a UK non-profit group called Frontier that is living in the hostel. David and I went out dancing with them on Friday night. From my time in Scotland, I know the British can drink. But, ten 19 year old girls from London on holiday right after high school graduation at a bar is always an astounding sight!
When we first arrived, we had meetings with our key partners, discussing our goals and how we may work together. They also gave us recommendations of towns we might want to be based in. One such town is Nasouri. We will be introduced to provincial leaders from Nasouri on Monday, but we decided to visit Nasouri on Friday to get a feel for the place. We started walking through town and through neighborhoods to see the type of houses we might be able to rent.
As we were walking, we came upon a house that had a sign advertising Yoga lessons and free meditation sessions. Intrigued, we approached the door, but as we did the next door neighbors got our attention and motioned us towards them. After explaining our organization and the fact that we were checking out houses in the area, they offered to search for housing for us and give us a call when they found something. They also sent us to a shop in town to inquire about a large house that was inhabited by only one man.
We never found that shop, but instead ran into a man and Isaiah. Isaiah is a tattered-looking fella. He is missing some teeth and has a full beard in mourning for his recently deceased father. In spite of his disconcerting appearance he was warm and friendly to a fault. Hearing of our mission, he showed us the back of his shop for us to stay in for free. It was a concrete block that bowed down in the middle. The windows where simply square holes in the walls, the wooden door was almost falling off its hinges, the shower and toilet were shared by the other three adjoining flats, and there was no kitchen . It was a humble, to say the least, but I was absolutely touched at his willingness to let us stay for free. If this was not spectacular enough, he invited us back to his village to show us the home his family lives in. He told us that if we liked that one better he would move out that very day and his family would stay somewhere else.
We tried our best to manage his overwhelming kindness and explain our mandate to find a house large enough for 17 Americans. But his persistence and our curiosity to see a traditional village won out and we were welcomed into his home.
He taught us the customs of village life. Some of which we had read about in travel books, and some that we surprises to us and likely slightly unique to his village. Men and women must wear a sulu (skirt), no sunglasses, no hats, you must hold your bags in your hands, you must immediately sit when entering a home, you can’t stand an walk directly across a room, etc. We sat attentively on mats, asking questions about these customs and learning appropriate greetings. If you know me at all, you know that I was full of questions and anecdotes. I thought it was curious that he would direct his responses to David. After some time, I asked if there was anything I should say differently when entering a home or greeting people as a women.
He simply said, “You should not say anything.”
I responded, “Ok, I won’t say anything differently”
“No” he clarified, “As a woman you should say as little as possible”
“Oh! Well I have talked a lot today, I will have to learn to be more quiet”
“That would be good.”
Needless to say, I think I will be learning a lot in Fiji!
After my incredible experience in Uganda last year, I knew I wanted to do this again. HELP has an incredible impact on the ground because we listen to the partner organizations we work with and generate the ideas for our projects from the people we serve. Even more, our volunteers’ lives are changed forever. They gain insight that if found only by living among another culture and working together. They also gain the skills and experience necessary to continue to be social entrepreneurs for the rest of their lives.
This summer my co-director is David. Him and I arrived in Fiji April 23rd. We have until May 6th to choose a village to work in, rent a home, hire a cook, buy beds and other supplies, and begin making partnerships and discussing possible projects.
In the few days I have been here I have fallen in love with Fiji and its people. I have never imaged a culture that is so communal and giving.
We are staying in a backpackers’ hostel in Suva. It is managed by a German guy who came to Fiji over 8 years ago and decided to stay. There is also a UK non-profit group called Frontier that is living in the hostel. David and I went out dancing with them on Friday night. From my time in Scotland, I know the British can drink. But, ten 19 year old girls from London on holiday right after high school graduation at a bar is always an astounding sight!
When we first arrived, we had meetings with our key partners, discussing our goals and how we may work together. They also gave us recommendations of towns we might want to be based in. One such town is Nasouri. We will be introduced to provincial leaders from Nasouri on Monday, but we decided to visit Nasouri on Friday to get a feel for the place. We started walking through town and through neighborhoods to see the type of houses we might be able to rent.
As we were walking, we came upon a house that had a sign advertising Yoga lessons and free meditation sessions. Intrigued, we approached the door, but as we did the next door neighbors got our attention and motioned us towards them. After explaining our organization and the fact that we were checking out houses in the area, they offered to search for housing for us and give us a call when they found something. They also sent us to a shop in town to inquire about a large house that was inhabited by only one man.
We never found that shop, but instead ran into a man and Isaiah. Isaiah is a tattered-looking fella. He is missing some teeth and has a full beard in mourning for his recently deceased father. In spite of his disconcerting appearance he was warm and friendly to a fault. Hearing of our mission, he showed us the back of his shop for us to stay in for free. It was a concrete block that bowed down in the middle. The windows where simply square holes in the walls, the wooden door was almost falling off its hinges, the shower and toilet were shared by the other three adjoining flats, and there was no kitchen . It was a humble, to say the least, but I was absolutely touched at his willingness to let us stay for free. If this was not spectacular enough, he invited us back to his village to show us the home his family lives in. He told us that if we liked that one better he would move out that very day and his family would stay somewhere else.
We tried our best to manage his overwhelming kindness and explain our mandate to find a house large enough for 17 Americans. But his persistence and our curiosity to see a traditional village won out and we were welcomed into his home.
He taught us the customs of village life. Some of which we had read about in travel books, and some that we surprises to us and likely slightly unique to his village. Men and women must wear a sulu (skirt), no sunglasses, no hats, you must hold your bags in your hands, you must immediately sit when entering a home, you can’t stand an walk directly across a room, etc. We sat attentively on mats, asking questions about these customs and learning appropriate greetings. If you know me at all, you know that I was full of questions and anecdotes. I thought it was curious that he would direct his responses to David. After some time, I asked if there was anything I should say differently when entering a home or greeting people as a women.
He simply said, “You should not say anything.”
I responded, “Ok, I won’t say anything differently”
“No” he clarified, “As a woman you should say as little as possible”
“Oh! Well I have talked a lot today, I will have to learn to be more quiet”
“That would be good.”
Needless to say, I think I will be learning a lot in Fiji!
Saturday, July 5, 2008
i fed a baboon
I am planning a trip to Gulu to hold business seminars with refugees who are relocating into villages. As Heidi and I were on our way to
Later that day in
One night I was getting back late from a project and found everyone in the house acting rather odd. They told me to look at the bathroom. I walked in and found that the sink was gone. I turned to the girl’s room and found Hiedi laying face down on the bed with her butt exposed and Corbin leaned over her with a gloved hand bracing a syringe.
Choking back laughs they told me this story: Amber, Heidi, and Tori were looking at Amber’s arm which she had injured a few days earlier. They started laughing hysterically, to the point that all three girls had to pee. I think it should be said that I have never met a group of girls with such little bladder control in my life. They all ran to the bathroom. Amber took the toilet, Tori peed in the bathtub, and Heidi just peed her pants. All continued to laugh uncontrollably. Heidi backup and rested her hand on the sink which pulled out of the wall and crashed to the ground in pieces. Heidi landed right on top of it. The house burst into chaos as everyone scrabbled to stop the bathroom from flooded as burning hot water shot from the wall. In the confusion Heidi didn’t realize that he had cut her butt until she had bled quite a bit.
Amber says that Heidi’s face went sheet white and they escorted her to the bed. Tori and Corbin went to work as doctor and nurse.
By the time I got there, everything was cleaned up, but it was clear that Heidi would need stitches. She saw our Australian doctor the next day – who probably thinks we are absolutely ridiculous by now. The whole episode was hilarious and has spawned priceless jokes about Heidi’s crack.
Our second wave of volunteers arrived Thursday 12th. They are great. We have 3 siblings that have come Linsi, Katie, and DJ; A really great girl named Kelsi, who is DJ’s girlfriend; And three additional girls, Stephanie Christiansen, Tori Griffith and Ashley Ward. I absolutely love the new volunteers. They came with so much drive and have started some really cool projects.
One week after the new volunteers arrived I left for
We went on a hike around Kilimanjaro which ended in a gorgeous waterfall. On the way back we had to walk down a steep muddy road that had been soaked from a heavy rain. The ground was sticky and almost every single one of us fell, covering ourselves in mud. The locals thought it was hilarious and were laughing hysterically at us.
We also went to a Masai village and met an indigenous tribe (see photos below).
And… of course we went on Safari and saw all the animals. A baboon ate out of my hand. We saw a loin kill a pumba. I bought a knife of a Masai boy that we ran into….it still has blood on it!!!!
Friday, July 4, 2008
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Rwanda Rwanda
We left for
It was inevitable that during the 9 hour bus ride I would have to pee. I asked the conductor if we could stop at the next town. He shot me a side glance and yelled something to the driver in Luganda. Some time later, the bus pulled over in the middle of nowhere and people began climbing out.
A couple hours later the bus stopped again. This time, it was not for the convenience of the passengers, but because it had broken down. I got out of the bus and decided to sunbathe while crew worked on the engine. At one point, they took a handful of long stands of grass and used it to tie something together. There must have a good reason, because a short time later the bus was running and we were back on our way.
When we finally reached Rwanda we were met by Auntie Peggy’s friend, Richard. Richard is the Secretary General of the national committee of town councils and had taken the Lugazi Town Council on an educational tour. Richard became our guide for the weekend.
He took us to the hotel that the movie Hotel Rwanda was based on. During the Rwandan genocide the hotel held 1,000 people seeking refuge from the chaos that was occurring just beyond the parking lot. I had expected the hotel to be a popular tourist destination because of the movie, however when we arrived, it ran just like any other hotel. There were no public tours, pamphlets, or even a plaque to commemorate the terrifying and extraordinary scene that unfolded there.
Richard spoke to the management, and a few moments later the hotel technician came to talk with us. He had also been the technician in 1994. Because there had been so many people, and thus a huge strain on all the technology in the hotel, the manager sent an armored car to pick the technician and his family. They crossed three road blocks, an extremely dangerous feat at the time. Once at the hotel, the technician only came out of the lobby twice. He hid in the hotel with his wife and children. He even had a child born there. His wife was among a group of people who got on a truck that was supposed to transfer them to a safer location in a refugee camp. On the way there, the van was stopped by militia and the passengers were almost killed. After many tense moments and heavy negotiation, the van was sent back with all of its passengers. Of the 1,000 inhabitants of the hotel, none were killed. This is an absolutely miraculous anomaly of the genocide.
The next day, we were taken to a National museum, and then we drove from about two hours out to another memorial in Murambi. As I have written in my previous blog, the memorial in situated on a hill in the most beautiful village of rolling hills that the mind could image. The memorial site was once going to be a technical school, but right before it was completed Hutus began their extermination of the Tutsi. At Murambi, 50,000 Tutsis were murdered in one day in an act of genocide. The bodies were put in mass graves dug out my machines provided for by the French government. The graves were covered in sand a used as a volleyball court for French troops. Once the government was stabilized and the threat of genocide had ceased, the villagers uncovered the graves. They did want the bodies to remain in that degrading state, and they didn’t want the mass murder to be covered up and forgotten. So, the covered the bodies in lime powder and placed them in the unfinished classrooms.
We were taken to one of the classrooms, and to our horror, the bodies were still laying there on tables. There were rows of bodies after bodies, all laying in poses of horror. Many of them still had clothes on and many still had hair. I was overwhelmed with the trauma of facing so many dead people, and I had to step out of the room. I began to walk down the pathway of classrooms and realized that they were all filled with bodies. One room was designated to little babies. As I stood in that doorway, my eyes welling with tears, one of the staff members came up to me. He explained that many of the babies were not initially killed when the Hutu attack. They were simply thrown into the mass graves alive, and left to die slowly.
We walked out to one of the fields and Linda told us her story which I have shared with you. We also heard for another one of the four survivors: He had help put up the small resistance against the Hutu when the killing first began in Murambi. During the fighting he was shot in the head and buried under a pile of bodies in near one of the classrooms. Miraculously, he did not die, but woke up at night once the Hutu had left. He crawled out towards freedom, more scared than he said is possible to explain, agonizing for his dead loved ones that were scattered all around him. He headed for the Burundi boarder crawling at night and hiding during the day. After many days and in a state of severe malnutrition and dehydration, he reached the Burundi boarder and waited out the turmoil in a refugee camp. He returned to Murambi, and says he could never leave it.
The morning we were to leave Rwanda, the taxi driver was late and we were scrabbling at the bus park. Jackie got everyone on the bus and I stayed to pay the bus driver. As I was discussing the price with him, I heard Tori yell “Ashley, get on the bus!” I turned to see the bus pulling out of the parking lot. I threw money at the taxi driver and booked it to the bus. I jumped in as the bus was rolling down the street. I got the very last seat on the bus which was next to the largest Ugandan I have seen yet. His thighs were the size of my entire body. I couldn’t even sit normally in the chair, but had to sit sideways with my feet in the aisle. As I was contemplating how uncomfortable I was going to be during that 9-hour bus ride the man in the chair across from me leaned over and peed on my foot.
I sat there completely confused about what just happened. I grown man just peed on my foot. He peed on my foot! Right in the middle of the bus. I moaned in disgust and was so relieved when the bus stopped at the boarder and we off-boarded to go through immigration. At the boarder, we discovered that our visas were not for multiple entry and we needed to pay another $50 to reenter
I knew that I had to go to the nearby city of
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