There's a MOSQUITO in my mosquito net!!!

You know that feeling when you feel safe and protected from everything bad in the world, and then all of a sudden--"BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" That annoying buzzing sound, that only a mosquito can make, is right in your ear? It was a Wednesday afternoon....

Ok, but before I finish the story let me give you a little background. I came to my village a little over a week ago, just a few days after the cyclone hit. Luckily the island that most of us are staying in wasn't hit as bad as the main island that we were living in at the time. So after they talked to our families and checked to make sure we all still had houses, they sent us out as quickly as possible.  We arrived on Wednesday afternoon, completely exhausted. Just to paint you a little picture, for the past two months I have had this very specific routine, of eating breakfast with my sisters, going to school, coming home for lunch and eating with my family, coming home from school and chatting with my family for a bit before heading off for one of three places, a. a walk with my fellow PCV friends, b. volleyball with the villagers and my fellow PCV friends, or c. the beach, again with my fellow PCV friends and whatever random kids happen to be swimming at the time. After hangout time, I would go back home for prayer and dinner with my family and then go back into the village to play cards, catch up on some X Factor,  watch dance practice, or play a game with the kids in the street. And then, wake up and repeat the next day. That I pretty much did the same things everyday for the past two months, until we went to Apia and were locked up in the hotel for multiple days because of the cyclone. I spent almost every minute of the day with my PCV friends in the hotel or around Apia. So you can imagine the shock to my system when we all departed from the warf and were dropped off at our different villages. I was partly exhausted from the cylcone, party distressed because I was in a new village, partly overwhelmed because I couldn't believe how much I missed my family in Utulaelae, and partly experiencing severe withdraw from these other volunteers that have become like family to me in our short time here. They said that it would be hard to come to a village, but  I don't think I really thought it would be hard for me! I mean, I'm the queen of independence. I'm a pro at travelling and going new places by myself. Hello, you are talking to the girl that moved away to college when I was 17, half way across the country without knowing a single person out there. THIS SHOULD BE EASY FOR ME, right?  My experiences in the past week would say otherwise.

It turns out that without a routine, I don't really know what to do. I spend a lot of time cleaning my house, and just kind of wandering around looking at things in my house imagining how I would clean it if I had cleaning supplies.  I spend multiple hours a day, watching and playing volleyball, because that's a way I know that I can meet new people in the village and make friends. This has become my favorite time during the day, and indeed is where I have made friends with lots of the young girls in the village. I go swimming with the kids in the evening, which is always nice. I enjoy having time to exercise every morning and going on a walk. But there were many times when I would just be awkwardly hanging out with my sister and her friends and think to myself, "wow, this is not what I imagined." Or when my sister wants to go hangout at 10:00 at night i the village, and all I want to do is go hide in my mosquito net and read or write in my journal or sleep or cry (not actually cry, but just, you know...what's the word...wallow in self pity?). 

So anyways, the day after christmas here, Chirstmas day in the states, I'm thinking about what my family and friends are doing there and kind of sad that I can't be there for the holidays, and then feeling equally sad thinking about my family and friends in Utulaelae and wishing I could be there with them. I had been sitting in the HOT sun watching volley for a couple of hours and getting bitten by mosquitoes and trying to fight off the flies that seem to enjoy torturing me by swarming my infected sores on my feet. So I finally decided I had earned a break and I was going to go hide in my mosquito net and read for an hour, because you know, it's SAFE in there! I don't have to worry about speaking Samoan, or worse, not being able to speak or understand Samoan. I don't have to worry about what I'm doing and if it is culturally appropriate. I don't have to look around the village and compare it to my old village (which, yes, is a very bad thing to do, and I really do make a sincere effort not to do that, but it's such a natural thing to do, it's hard not to!). And best of all, I don't have to worry about mosquitoes or flies!!! 

So I get all ready, I turn my fan on, get my book out, put my water bottle beside me, get all cuddled up with my pillow, and tuck in the mosquito net under my mattress.  About thirty seconds of pure bliss pass, and that's when it happens!!! The  "BUZZZZZZZ" is right in my ear!!! THERE'S A FREAKING MOSQUITO IN MY MOSQUITO NET!!!  You know how when you have a sunburn and someone touches it, it causes extreme pain and is super sensitive? It doesn't matter that normally that wouldn't bother or phase you at all, but just because you have the sun burn, you think you are going to die? That's how my experience with this mosquito was. I almost started crying. Yes, very dramatic, but I had an emotional sunburn that day for some reason. So, obviously, I decide to kill the mosquito. Which turns out to be a tricky thing to do on a twin bed inside a mosquito net. At first I start flopping around like a beached whale on the mattress trying to get it. When that doesn't work, I get up on all fours and try chasing it around.  The problem is, when the mosquito lands on the net, and you slap the net, the mosquito doesn't die, because HELLO! The mosquito net is flexible and the mosquito just kind of conforms to the net and in that gap where your palm is. So then I start try to clap the mosquito to death. You know what I'm talking about, when you use both of your hand and try slapping the mosquito in between them. Well, after about 4 minutes of bouncing around and clapping the air (looking like some kind of pathetic attempt to be a cheerleader) I finally am victorious over the mosquito! By this time I was so exhausted (it's hard work to kill a mosquito!), my reading time turned into nap time.

But when I woke up, I realized an important lesson. Sometimes, we think we can just go in and hide in our mosquito nets and be protected from everything bad. Because in our safe place (mosquito net, if you will) we don't have to face the world outside or the stuff that is scary or awkward or just not what we want to do.  But the problem is, it's not always safe in our mosquito net. And the mosquitoes eventually find ways to get us even in our nets. So I decided to stop being a baby and stop moping around, and get out in the village! Endure the hot volleyball games or the awkward hangout sessions even after I'm tired, even if it doesn't sound as fun as reading a book in front of the fan. Talk to people even if it seems scary to just strike up a conversation.  Because I'm here to become a part of this community, and I'm never going to be able to do that in my mosquito net.  I really do love my village, even if the transition has been hard. My family is so kind. They take such good care of me and are always asking me if there is anything that  I need and worried about if I'm eating enough and what food I like. They like to make sure I'm getting enough rest.  The girls in the village are my favorite! They are so funny. They love to dougie!! They love singing and dancing and playing volleyball. And they think it's hilarious when I get hit in the face with the ball. The women in the village are all so kind and they are very interested in my love life (and think it's hilarious when I say I don't think about boys, I  just think about God--which is not necessarily true 100% of the time given all of the guys that don't wear shirts when they are working in the bush or cutting the grass). They also think it's really funny when I do something really bad in volley or say something really bad in Samoan. I love that the village is so active, and I'm excited to get to know more people.  It's just a transitioning period right now. School starts at the end of January, so I'll have more of an excuse to go and talk to people in their houses then and to go visit my students and their parents.  I'll also be meeting more of the teachers, which will be good. I'm really excited to finally get to start teaching!!! I feel very ready.

Lessons learned from Cyclone Evan...

A comment that was made during a conversation I had with someone a couple of years ago about the Earthquake in Haiti that hit and devastated the whole nation has stuck with me and has been haunting me over the past few days--they said something to the extent that one of the reasons the earthquake hit was because the people weren't Christian enough, maybe they were being punished for practicing voodoo.  I remember being offended by this at the time, but not saying much because I was too shocked to respond. Well, today I am prepared!! But before I get to that, let me tell you about the events of the past few days...

Thursday morning we went to the conference room in the hotel to begin our training, only to be met by our Country Director who said training was cancelled.  He told us we needed to go by some food to get us through the day in case the cyclone hits and stores close.  We were to stay in the hotel and not leave until we were further notified.  So we went to the store beside the hotel got a few packages of instant noodles, crackers, bread, peanut butter, and cookies--a sufficient amount of junk food to last us a day.  My fellow gal-pals would like to interject at this point that they asked me if I thought we should get more and I brushed it off with a "Nah, I think this will be fine." (This will come into play later when we were concerned that we might starve to death in the hotel).   The first part of the day was pretty fun in the hotel, we still had power untill about 4, so we watched movies, played cards, got on the internet some, snacked on our junk food, played scrabble, etc. We took breaks intermittently to go and watch the cyclone that was brewing outside. The wind was crazy, the trees were blowing sideways, there was so much rain, the river that is right outside our hotel was flowing faster than I thought possible and the waves in the ocean that is outside the other side of the hotel were getting really high at the sea wall.  I went outside the porch on the second floor once just to see how strong the winds were and I almost blew over (which is saying alot because I'm a pretty sturdy girl!).  After this we went back into the room, watched one episode of Friends (so approximately 22 mins) and when we went back to survey the progression of the storm, we were amazed to see the flooding that had taken place! The river had so many trees and logs in it that it dammed the bridge so as the river is running down the mountain, instead of being able to go under the bridge an drain into the ocean, the water overflowed the river and flooded all of the houses on the bank, and then the rest of the city.  We litterally watched from the 3rd story of the hotel, all of the houses and stores in sight be flooded. The ones right below us litterally had water to the roof.  There were people floating in the streets on refrigerators and other miscelaneous objects.  Our hotel was flooded above the knee and up the first stair. Obviously, power and water went out in the whole country.  I saw one guy on the bank of the river trying to pull the logs out to keep it from clogging, for every one log he pulled out another twenty were floating down the river. Our country directors friend had his family ride out the storm in their boat because the water had flood their house up to the ceiling and that was the only way to keep them above water.  The flooding died down pretty quickly and it was pretty manageable by that night. Friday we were still stuck in the hotel and that was when we realized we didn't have enough food-luckily our Country director managed to get us enough crackers and peanut butter to last us a while. 

On saturday, the clean up began. One of the Peace Corps Staff members (a young samoan man) came into start helping clean the office.  It turns out, his house was completely destroyed, but he still came to try and help other people.  We spent the majority of the day Saturday drying to get the water out of the office and clean up what we could down there.  On Sunday, we went to Red Cross and helped with what they needed, but more about that in my next post. 

Moral of the story, and the reason the stupid comment about Haiti has been bothering me so much is because I realized I should have said at that moment, sometimes bad things just happen to good people, and it's not a punishment.  SAMOA WAS NOT HIT BY A CYLCONE BECAUSE THEY WERE NOT GOOD ENOUGH PEOPLE OR THEY WERE NOT CHRISTIAN ENOUGH.  These are some of the best people I have had the privelage of knowing. This country is centered around God, family, love, and happiness (and food, but that's irrelevant at the moment). They love and care for people just as the Savior would and they  are the embodiment of being happy no matter what circumstances they are in.  Sometimes really bad things happen to really good people, and the lessons that we are supposed to learn come from how we deal with the bad stuff.  On Saturday morning we went on a bit of a drive up the mountain to find a store that was open to stock up on some more food, and I saw a lot of people outside just looking around at the damage.  Just as I started to get really depressed thinking about all the people who have lost so much-their houses, their cars, their belongings, everything-I saw a group of kids playing in a giant puddle (think somewhere in between a puddle and a small pond in their yard).  They were just laughing and jumping and playing like kids do, and the woman in the yard with them was just watching and smiling and it reminded me that even when you think you have lost everything, there is always something to smile about.

Some photos of the village....

this is just to give you a little idea of what volley looks like for me more often than not--the ball coming straight to my face!! I sometimes curse my parents for not passing along some hand-eye coordination genes...

Dance practice is always fun, but the best part is getting to hangout with the other volunteers afterwards!! "THAT'S A GOOD GROUP!"

The End of the Beginning...

 The past two months of training have been intense and packed full of emotions--happiness, sadness, stress, freedom, loneliness, friendship, frustration, accomplishment,  purpose, uselessness, excitement, anxiety, and most of all, more laughter and tears than I ever thought possible.  But training has finally come to an end.  It’s a very bittersweet feeling.  I’m so excited to be done with the 9 hours a day of class and the stress that that entailed! But I feel like even though I’m tired of it, there are definitely more things that I could do to prepare-especially in regards to language and teaching.  And I’m so excited to go out to my village and start meeting the people and my students and building relationships there. However, I’m desperately going to miss my family in Utulaelae and all of my friends in the village.  I’m thrilled to get settled into my house and make it feel like home, but I’m really going to miss my little samoan house, that was so breezy and cute.  And I’m also excited to get into a routine that I have more control of-including diet, I’m hoping to limit my taro eating to once or twice a week (in my dreams!).   But it makes me tear up just thinking that my new routine won’t include hanging out with, playing volley with, or watching dance practice with my PC friends that I have become so close with over the last two months—missing them will be one of the hardest parts of adjustment. Despite all of the things that I feel kind of anxious about or that I know I will miss about the training village, I’m mostly just really excited to get into the classroom and actually start teaching and working with my literacy groups.  That’s why I came here and I’m really excited to get to work doing it! I know the transition will be rough, but I also am looking forward to all of the great experiences I will have during this time.

Our Swearing In ceremony is on Friday at the US Embassy (which is where we went for thanksgiving dinner—and is probably the swankiest place in town, super nice house!).  This will be when we will do our official “I promise to be a good Peace Corps Volunteer and serve my country and Samoa” spiel.  I already know it’s going to be an emotional day, but I know it will be one of those events that I never forget.   We go out to our permanent sites the next morning (Saturday) and say Fa Soifua to all of the other volunteers, and Talofa to our new village.  Big day! 

The truth of the Samoan proverb….something about how saying hello is sweet and goodbye is bitter.

Leaving the training village on Saturday morning turned out to be one of the most tear provoking events, EVER. The water works that came and the floodgates that were opened when I was saying goodbye to the village this weekend were a little ridiculous.  I don’t know if it was the idea of leaving to go to something so new and unfamiliar (my permanent site) after being so comfortable there for the last two months or if it’s the idea that I won’t ever be living there with them again, but whatever the reason-it was pretty rough.  The Methodist church had a fiafia for us the week before we left--which turned out to be the most fun I had in Utulaelae possibly the whole time I was there!  There was lots of food, of course, and dancing (both samoan songs and hip music), and lots of dance performances! The boys did some really cool slap dances, Kate’s 81 year old grandmother did some pole dancing and danced with a chair on her head, Becca’s dance partner played hide and go seek around her while they were dancing, bobbing and weaving from one side to the next , above and below while she diligently tried to keep up with his speed, the Pastor’s wife knocked Seti to the ground when she was dancing with him so intensely, but the highlight was obviously when I did a dance by myself in front of everyone.  If you are wondering how I got talked into that, the answer is I DIDN’T! My mom just called me over the side and started putting this big feather thing on my hair and a sequin head band on my forehead and a giant necklace and some sort of hip decoration around  my waist—I gathered that I was going to dance, as this is the uniform for the taupou dance.  The taupou is usually done by the virgin daughter of a high chief in a village—but this time, it was done by me! After I suffered through what felt like a small eternity of dancing, the torture ended and I was allowed to remove all of my costume except the Vegas feathers in my hair.  Luckily, the rest of the Peace Corps also had to dance by their selves as the night went on.  I felt much less like an uncoordinated fool when I realized we all sucked.  

The night before we left the whole village through a fa’amavai (farewell) for us at the same house as our fiafia the week before.   The feeling in the air was so different.  Even just by looking at pictures, you can see that we are laughing our heads off watching the dances the first time, but the last time we are crying thinking about this being the last time we get to watch them dance.  Regardless of the tears, it was a great experience. Of course, we all had to dance again in front of everyone (and yes, I did wear the feather costume again) and there was food and dancing.  The worst part was when they played the theme song from “Ghost” (Unchained Melody, by The Righteous Brothers) and we all danced with our host moms or dads.  I danced with my mom and by the time the first chorus came around we were just standing there sobbing and hugging as we embarrassingly swayed on the dance floor.  Luckily, we weren’t the only ones I saw doing this (thanks becca and kate—that’s why we are friends!).  Following this, we all stood in a circle and held hands while the Samoans sang a beautiful Samoan hymn.  This of course led to even more crying (my tear ducts got a real work out this day!) and then going around and kissing and hugging everyone. 

After the fa’amavai, I went back home to my family and we did our farewell speeches during family prayer.  The fa’asamoa (samoan way) is that you thank God first, then express your love and gratitude, then ask forgiveness for anything you have done wrong, and generally concluded by the giving of small gifts. I stumbled my way tearfully through my broken Samoan to give my speech and try to express my love.  It was hard.  I, obviously, am terribly awkward when it comes to most things related to emotions and crying and being sad, and anything else of the likes that go too far beyond joking and being funny, thus I added a few jokes into my serious speech.  For example, I said “Thank you for asking me every time I walk to the shower if I’m going to shower and every time I walk out of the shower if I am finished showering.”  And “Thank you climbing up the coconut trees to always bring me coconut.”  They really got a kick out of these—and it broke up the crying so that was nice.  I will definitely miss my Utulaelae family, but on the optimistic side, I am very excited to go see my new family again and get settled into my permanent village.