May 17, 2002
My cast was cut off last week, despite the x-ray still showing the bone
in my foot as fractured. I have been walking on it for almost a week
now, and there is still some definite pain that I am hoping will go
away. Tomorrow, I go to the local beach town to do some laps in the
ocean with a fellow volunteer friend. This is the same town where
mangos are now being sold on the street for 20 cents each -- 5 for
$1.00USD!
My house was fine when I arrived back last Thursday. My water girl had
been watering the plants and feeding the cats every other day. My
anxieties about the state of my house and cats had grown over the three
weeks that I was in the capital city. Were my cats still alive? Had
termites migrated onto my bookshelf and consumed my novels or clothes?
Did my neighbors break in and steal things? Had my water girl actually
done what I asked her to do? My fears were subdued when I opened the
back door to a lush patio garden and two fat, happy cats. They had
really missed me and immediately started to do figure eights around my
feet as they purred and meowed incessantly. For the next two days while
I cleaned, they would not leave my side.
My neighbors quickly gathered at my front door, inquiring about the
state of my foot and my time spent in Praia. The typical questions
insued about our families, friends, and events I had missed. Seven year
old Ana lost another tooth, Nhafs mother had come home from
Portugal after 7 months, and the donkey finally had its baby! I nearly
died of disappointment when I heard the donkey had given birth. This is
the same donkey that I had brushed and watched all last fall, imagining
the baby coming any day because it was so portly.
Anyone who has seen a baby donkey can attest to the fact that they are
adorable for the first year. Their hair stands on end for about six
months, and they nurse from their mother for about a year -- donkeys are
pregnant for 11-12 months! For godfs sake, to miss the birth was such a
disappointment, especially since I have missed every other birth of a
major livestock animal in my cluster of six houses. I did, however, get
to witness the birth of twin goats last fall, which was amazing enough
for my first year at site. This is, of course, coming from the woman
most people still believe should have been a veterinarian. [Side Note: By the end of my two-year stay, I had witnessed many, many livestock births]
Today, I finished the Girlsf Leading Our World (GLOW) Camp proposal, which will enable
both Amy and I to hold separate camps for 6 days on our islands with
20-25 teenage girls. Amy lives on Boavista, the third largest island in
the archipelago with only 4,000 inhabitants and the highest teen
pregnancy rate nationwide. We are hoping that I can fly there to help
her manage her camp in late August, and that she can do the same when I
hold mine in early September. The average cost per camper per day of the
5-6 day camps is around $9.00. The total cost of both camps is going to
be over $2,400. U.S., which is a hefty amount of money for Cape Verde. I
am hoping that I am not going to have the same difficulties recruiting
female campers to participate, especially considering that my camp falls
in the midst of the rainy season and weeding time.
'Manda,' or weeding, has to be done every day during the rainy season on
the vast tracts of land that rural families own in order to enable their
corn and beans to grow properly. Because the primary role of rural
children is to serve as farm hands, it might be very difficult for me
to find families who will allow their girls to participate in the camp.
Amy will not have the same problem because there is a surplus of youth
on her island with nothing to do during the summer months, especially
because there are no social outlets or agricultural activities due its arid climate (i.e. I live in a river valley, and she lives on an island that has a mini-Sahara in the middle).
Part of me is relieved to finally be back at site. I appreciate the
sounds of the neighboring kids playing outside, the repetitive pounding
of corn at meal time, the screech of the kingfishers, the livestock
bleating for food at sunrise, and the concern of the villagers I live
with each time I see them. When I talked with Nhafs mother last week,
who just returned from Portugal, I asked her impressions. She said that
in Portugal food is more expensive, and that she preferred the simplier
way of life in the river valley. gPeople leave their doors open here,h
she sighed, glivestock and chickens enter the house all day, and
receiving visitors is what we are used to.h
