11 June 2009

Sacrifice

I think the last post raised a few eyebrows. I didn’t mean to generalize, just to say that the woman and the boy really irked me. The vast majority of Cape Verdeans, like any population, are great people. I’ve heard one difference between serving in CV versus other PC posts, is that here people welcome us into their lives and we’re not the outsiders volunteers elsewhere are.

It’s hard for people to see the sacrifice we make as Americans, because in the local context, it’s not a sacrifice at all. For me joining didn’t feel like a sacrifice, and for some it’s even a very intelligent, rational decision. Definitely not for everyone though…It’s very common for Cape Verdeans to leave for Europe or America in search of a better life, while wives, children, parents, and friends stay behind. This population liquidity is evidenced by the fact that there are more Cape Verdeans outside of the country than in it.

We’re supposed to live at the level of the local population, but in reality our stipend makes us solidly upper-middle class. People see us going out for meals, taking vacations to other islands or countries, doing things the average person cannot. During a training in Praia some other PCVs and I spoke to a Cape Verdean familiar with PC. We tried to explain how it’s hard to give up two years, away from home, making much less money than we could in the States, etc. He said he knew how comfortably we live in CV and joked he’d give up his job and join PC, preferably to serve in the US.

One thing that differentiates us, is that we choose to volunteer. It’s not like people here who are forced to leave school to farm, feel there’s no option but to emigrate, or would like to eat at a restaurant but need to buy flip-flops for their kid who’s going to school barefoot. If I wanted, I could quit and be in the US within a week. That’s not possible here.

A point I wanted to make in the previous post is that one negative experience can overshadow several positive ones. I think it’s human nature, not an excuse I’ve created.

Last weekend I was in Chã das Caldeiras talking to a Cape Verdean who’d lived in the States, sharing his views on CV. One funny thing he said was that CV doesn’t have social unrest or anything because people like partying too much. Haha I don’t know, but he said it, not me. He said to remember his name, and next time I’m in his zone, ask for him. He said, “Of course you’d be welcome at my house,” in the same manner you’d say, “Of course goat is delicious.”

A few weeks ago I made the hike to Mosteiros from Chã das Caldeiras. When I got close to Mosteiros I came upon a woman and several of her kids. She had an enormous bundle of firewood balanced on her head and a child under her arm. She mentioned her son studies English and likes to practice with tourists who pass. When we entered Mosteiros she invited me for boiled sweet potatoes and coffee, a popular local snack, to practice with her son. The sacrifice she makes for her son is incredible, bringing strangers into to her home and feeding them, so her son can get better at English and hopefully improve his life.

Her eyes brightly glimmered giving away her relative youth, otherwise masked by dusty work clothes, neglected hair, and leathery skin caused by unending labor just to survive. She lamented that when she was younger she wanted to go to school, but had to leave after fourth grade to work. She bravely climbs that trail daily without regard to herself, with the hope her kids will enjoy the better life she imagined, but couldn’t achieve due to conditions beyond her control.

So that is the average Cape Verdean, not the “Give me” woman or the disrespectful kid. I hope I’ve cleared up that distinction.

04 June 2009

Give Me

Some things have the ability to infuriate me, naturally. A lot depends on the situation, not only the trigger but a hundred other things. My brothers left a few weeks ago; things could only deteriorate. I just returned from an excellent training on Santiago, an island I like more every time I visit, and where I had the opportunity to serve in the natural park but instead decided on Fogo. Each time I leave, I want less and less to board the plane to return to Fogo.

Unfortunately it seems human nature to focus on the bad, not the good. Marketing research shows people who’ve had a negative experience will tell more acquaintances about it than those who’ve enjoyed a positive experience.

As I’ve written, I don’t like living in São Filipe. It’s not what wanted when I joined Peace Corps, and that hasn’t changed since the forced move in January. Walking home Monday after an ATM run, thinking about my abhorrence of this situation, I encountered one of my least favorite things. Two women hanging out on their porch greeted me, so I stopped to say hello, expecting a pleasant, though cursory conversation.

Immediately the older of the two, 65 or 70, held out her hand and said “Da-n dinheiro” (Give me money). Huh? Seriously? The other woman laughed, the other unabashedly thrust out her hand repeating the demand. I don’t know if there’s an uglier motion in the world. Dumbfounded, stunned at the boldness, the lack of pride, the younger woman instructed me to tell the woman I didn’t have any.

The older one said all Americans have money. I should give her some. She wants to go to America because there’s so much easy money. Surely it’d be simple for a woman her age to learn English and rise to the ranks of CEO at an MNC. She’s been to France, twice, which apparently wasn’t good enough. She lives in a nice area of the city and though has probably seen difficult times, those days are gone. Also, apparently she knows better than me what America’s like.

We ended up conversing awhile, aided by a much more pleasant neighbor whose husband is a driver for the ministry. I said I was a volunteer but that didn’t impress her neighbors. When I left I was enraged. I’m not quick on my feet verbally, let alone in a different language. I wish I were. I would’ve had some choice words. If I could do it again I would’ve said:

I do have money. I just came from the ATM. But I’m not going to give you a single escudo (unit of Cape Verdean currency, about a cent), and I never will. Don’t ever ask me for money. I’m a volunteer. You think America is so great, but I decided to trade two years of the good life in America to come to Cape Verde. I left my parents, brothers, family, friends. The average salary for my classmates from business school was $60,000. I don’t make 10% of that. You are lucky. Cape Verde is a middle income country. It is poor but it has a lot going for it, including an open and democratic government, a high standard of living, and peace. I’ve been to the next best country in West Africa, Ghana, and every single day I saw people going hungry. That doesn’t happen here. I can’t imagine Nigeria or Sierra Leone. If giving two years of my life to your country isn’t enough, go to hell.

I wish I had said that. And if she ever asks again, I will. I don’t care if that’s not kosher. I’m not going to pretend that some grandma asking every white person who walks by for money is cute. It’s ugly and shameful.

Yesterday, I found myself walking past the same house, and instinctively began rehearsing the diatribe in my head. Walking the other way was a group of three primary school boys. “Da-n 100 escudos,” (Give me 100 escudos) one of them said. With a quiet but serious intensity I responded with the first thing that popped into my head: “Bai pa merda criança,” (literally, “Go to shit child.”). His buddies let loose an emphatic “Whoaaa,” meaning, “You just got served by a white dude in Kriolu!”

Some might say it was too rough, but I don’t feel an ounce of regret.