tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68836912097553777262024-03-13T07:57:03.195-07:00Swoon to Be AliveListen for me once, okay?Jennifer Kochhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09431549780255505749noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6883691209755377726.post-77949644126984285912010-05-18T15:01:00.000-07:002010-05-18T17:41:43.426-07:00Friends and Toilet<em>Talofa lava. Leva na fai lo’u blog. Na ou e pisi tele.</em> Greetings, i haven’t posted in a while. I’ve been busy. Last week was my group’s Close of Service Conference. We talked about jobs, school, and all the things that come after the Peace Corps. In just a few months we are headed back to America and her bounty; reliable mass transit, wild Oregon blackberries, racial diversity, running water, and RESTAURANTS. But, also jobs, apartments, student loans, medical insurance, and GREs. Samoa’s has her own miss-list; i’ll post it in time. I know my PC friends will be at the top of that list. And here are some photos.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MVaZZqJDI/AAAAAAAAAKM/4lH22yufkW0/s1600/TogitogigaFalls+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472741515424572466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 249px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MVaZZqJDI/AAAAAAAAAKM/4lH22yufkW0/s320/TogitogigaFalls+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MVZ0qACRI/AAAAAAAAAKE/53z4UY8Wvcw/s1600/SpenceJennyBenStevensons+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472741505561004306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MVZ0qACRI/AAAAAAAAAKE/53z4UY8Wvcw/s320/SpenceJennyBenStevensons+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MU5FXORuI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/r3sOC-9xb2k/s1600/RiverwalkFinalFalls+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472740943109965538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MU5FXORuI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/r3sOC-9xb2k/s320/RiverwalkFinalFalls+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MU4yXMBHI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/p9wzTz3cXvE/s1600/KateErinJennyRiverwalk+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472740938009543794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MU4yXMBHI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/p9wzTz3cXvE/s320/KateErinJennyRiverwalk+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MU4h5ybDI/AAAAAAAAAJs/ZAby53HTBug/s1600/FalealupoNYE2008+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472740933591264306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MU4h5ybDI/AAAAAAAAAJs/ZAby53HTBug/s320/FalealupoNYE2008+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MUSHsnlnI/AAAAAAAAAJc/IQrI72zCSRY/s1600/EricaJennyAmaile+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472740273721677426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MUSHsnlnI/AAAAAAAAAJc/IQrI72zCSRY/s320/EricaJennyAmaile+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MURzDc27I/AAAAAAAAAJU/9Jkq3nTVpa8/s1600/DoubtfulSound+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472740268180298674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MURzDc27I/AAAAAAAAAJU/9Jkq3nTVpa8/s320/DoubtfulSound+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MURYa8mdI/AAAAAAAAAJM/0ITARuL1z14/s1600/CaseyErica4July09+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472740261031090642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MURYa8mdI/AAAAAAAAAJM/0ITARuL1z14/s320/CaseyErica4July09+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MUROlBtjI/AAAAAAAAAJE/t-91z0cI2No/s1600/BriJennyWaihekeIsland+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472740258389014066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MUROlBtjI/AAAAAAAAAJE/t-91z0cI2No/s320/BriJennyWaihekeIsland+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MTdx5XmzI/AAAAAAAAAI8/otmrpBUdUZ0/s1600/BriJennyPinecone.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472739374516378418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 224px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MTdx5XmzI/AAAAAAAAAI8/otmrpBUdUZ0/s320/BriJennyPinecone.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MTdSPI94I/AAAAAAAAAI0/hiFpO8N5iKk/s1600/BriJennyGraduationApiaCentral.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472739366017759106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MTdSPI94I/AAAAAAAAAI0/hiFpO8N5iKk/s320/BriJennyGraduationApiaCentral.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MTc1erz-I/AAAAAAAAAIs/G-Wex-Cxhr4/s1600/BriJennyGiordanos+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472739358298329058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MTc1erz-I/AAAAAAAAAIs/G-Wex-Cxhr4/s320/BriJennyGiordanos+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MTce3_A7I/AAAAAAAAAIk/BBK_Zi9ZDKE/s1600/BabyJohnny+(Small).jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472739352230429618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MTce3_A7I/AAAAAAAAAIk/BBK_Zi9ZDKE/s320/BabyJohnny+(Small).jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div><br /><br /></div><div>I received a 500 USD grant to build a dry composting toilet in the village through Appropriate Projects. We’ve finished phase 1 of 2: the lower vault. Ben, Jim, Spencer and Trent came over to help with the construction. My neighbors, Usu Fetinai and Saaga, thankfully showed up to help with the masonry. It requires an expert finesse i did not expect. The rest of the village helped prepare the site, gather supplies, prep concrete, and host my guests. As with any Samoan consruction site, there was ava. And, though I’m not shown working in any of the pictures (I’m holding the camera, Mom!). I did work, and i did drink ava.<br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MWRgb3UdI/AAAAAAAAAKU/PGBkiSgbCvk/s1600/IMG_1189+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472742462205678034" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MWRgb3UdI/AAAAAAAAAKU/PGBkiSgbCvk/s320/IMG_1189+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MWSALSEiI/AAAAAAAAAKc/WyCtr2RTCAk/s1600/IMG_1203+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472742470726062626" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MWSALSEiI/AAAAAAAAAKc/WyCtr2RTCAk/s320/IMG_1203+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MWSqmSMBI/AAAAAAAAAKs/hfhKhBNSQ1c/s1600/IMG_1213+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472742482113605650" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MWSqmSMBI/AAAAAAAAAKs/hfhKhBNSQ1c/s320/IMG_1213+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MWSTft8JI/AAAAAAAAAKk/b5ZZSbrYT_Q/s1600/IMG_1212+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472742475912048786" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MWSTft8JI/AAAAAAAAAKk/b5ZZSbrYT_Q/s320/IMG_1212+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div></div><div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MWS7NxxII/AAAAAAAAAK0/aJeMTlMeBwY/s1600/IMG_1214+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472742486574220418" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MWS7NxxII/AAAAAAAAAK0/aJeMTlMeBwY/s320/IMG_1214+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MYjkO_mRI/AAAAAAAAALE/BHiMqblBxfY/s1600/IMG_1234+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472744971486337298" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MYjkO_mRI/AAAAAAAAALE/BHiMqblBxfY/s320/IMG_1234+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div></div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MYjxc_R_I/AAAAAAAAALM/YWn1PYzhhIg/s1600/IMG_1245+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472744975034697714" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MYjxc_R_I/AAAAAAAAALM/YWn1PYzhhIg/s320/IMG_1245+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MYlUsvkhI/AAAAAAAAALc/KwvV4kvZ-kE/s1600/IMG_1264+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472745001675887122" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MYlUsvkhI/AAAAAAAAALc/KwvV4kvZ-kE/s320/IMG_1264+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MYkWRvGJI/AAAAAAAAALU/DtGOsD6DNuw/s1600/IMG_1262+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472744984919611538" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MYkWRvGJI/AAAAAAAAALU/DtGOsD6DNuw/s320/IMG_1262+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MZ2hprU1I/AAAAAAAAAL0/cAWSo8fXZqU/s1600/IMG_1276+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472746396722090834" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MZ2hprU1I/AAAAAAAAAL0/cAWSo8fXZqU/s320/IMG_1276+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div></div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MYjKsCx-I/AAAAAAAAAK8/LDDOKTlKldg/s1600/IMG_1230+(Small).JPG"></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MZ2aRfR1I/AAAAAAAAALs/V9gLeXxyPVY/s1600/IMG_1269+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472746394741589842" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MZ2aRfR1I/AAAAAAAAALs/V9gLeXxyPVY/s320/IMG_1269+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MZ119y51I/AAAAAAAAALk/lscmki2r9qs/s1600/IMG_1266+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472746384995313490" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/S_MZ119y51I/AAAAAAAAALk/lscmki2r9qs/s320/IMG_1266+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Jennifer Kochhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09431549780255505749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6883691209755377726.post-42524802275461927302009-09-02T14:23:00.000-07:002009-09-02T15:30:54.287-07:00<div align="left">I haven’t posted a blog in months. Things have been busy.<br /><br />Sewing School: Aoga Suisui<br /><br />It was a success! We had a five day sewing school at Women’s Committee house. 4 experienced village seamstresses taught informal classes and I assisted. By the first day of sewing school, beginners were sewing dresses, bedcovers, and school uniforms. There was some initial confusion about the purpose of the machines. We started the first day with numerous ladies dropping piles of cloth in front of me, explaining the type of garment they wanted me whip up. When that was rectified, the ladies did a great job of staying focused, sharing limited equipment, and being very productive…. Most of them completed at least 2 items for every 1 day session. The ladies pulled a couple kids out of school for the week to thread needles for them. Something I found distressing, yet useful. Sewing school ended later and later every day, until we were kicking people out at 9:00 on Friday night.<br /><br />It’s been a few months since the school and all 10 machines are still living at the Committee House. I have cleverly thwarted requests from various people in the village to keep the machines as presents. The ladies have devised a schedule to establish equal use of the machines for everyone. Each of the villages 4 groups is given a week during the month when they can come to the Committee and use the machines AND every Thursday is village sewing day when anyone can come. I see at least 1 person using a machine every day. The Chinese Singers have the odds stacked against them. Right out of the box, only 7 out of the 10 machines we received were in working order. We were able to repair the other 3. So, if the machines can make it with their own cheap parts, they next have to deal with the tropical climate. The machines are kept in a room that has simple paneless windows in a location prone to heavy rains and high wind. And each machine must be pulled out of it’s cubby, then out of it’s box, then carried by a handle to the Committee house. The Committee house is quite close to the room BUT the hinged locks that hold the heavy machine base onto the handled lids are undependable. They just don’t fit together right and the heavy machines tend to slip away from the lid and fall on the ground, down the stairs, on your foot, or on a slow dog. So machines that didn’t work that well to begin with, often get wet and beat up. That’s Samoa.<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376984371393578162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/Sp7izBu9xLI/AAAAAAAAAG0/z5jRviGxC0o/s320/IMG_0158.JPG" border="0" /> </div><div align="center">Nofoe and Yogi </div><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376984856667977586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/Sp7jPRhZd3I/AAAAAAAAAG8/hiAtQ1aEKxs/s320/IMG_0108.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"> Muta'aga and Vatiana learn how to wind bobbins.<br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376985054950386450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/Sp7ja0Lm6xI/AAAAAAAAAHE/DlCYRpHXQ0A/s320/IMG_0180+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center">All the ladies with their new duds on display in the background.<br /></p><br /><br />Fiji: Fiti<br /><br />I went to Fiji with the Group 80 girls: Briony, Erica, Karin, and Liz. Check out Liz and Erica’s rundowns at: <a href="http://ramblinliz.blogspot.com/2009/07/bula-fiji.html">http://ramblinliz.blogspot.com/2009/07/bula-fiji.html</a> (liz) and <a href="http://ericafromamerica.blogspot.com/2009/07/bula.html">http://ericafromamerica.blogspot.com/2009/07/bula.html</a> (erica). Because, why reinvent the wheel? But here is a picture of a cool place Erica and I went outside of Suva.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376987788534467218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/Sp7l57k1ypI/AAAAAAAAAHU/2B3zxWwjlGg/s320/IMG_0341.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />Primary School:<br />I’ve been teaching at Tufutafoe Primary School. I didn’t come to the village to teach, and have had no teacher’s training. I’m scrambling to pull together lessons: a big reason I’ve been so busy. The village has been encouraging me to teach since I got here a year ago and I’ve been fighting it. The Peace Corps and it’s Samoan counterpart, the Samoan Ministry of Women, Community, and Social Development have both been adamant about us trying to focus more on village wide projects: like water tanks, technology centers, the sewing machine school, community gardens, etc. I felt like I had many village-wide projects completed or in the works, and I’d grown a bit bored. So, I decided teaching would be my extra project. I am the “reading in English” teacher. I go to the school Monday through Thursday and relieve the multilevel teachers of half their class to read and play word games. I’m starting Where the Red Fern Grows with the Year 7&8 kids. I have free range in the classroom as to where I want to take my teaching. I would like to do projects about diversity, organic gardening, photography, and geography. I started teaching 2 months ago and this is how my schedule has gone. Week 1 and 2, AOK. Week 3 and 4, all public schools were shut down to prevent the further spread of Fulu Puaa: Swine Flu. Week 5, Monday was a holiday, the rest of the week, no classes for teachers training, Week 6, AOK. Week 7, midservice Peace Corps Meeting all week. Week 8, last week, I was back at the school. It was my fourth week of teaching in 2 months. Next week the whole school is going to Apia for a national Song and Dance competition about road safety. This is concerning the upcoming road switch, where, as of September 7th, all drivers will switch to the driving on the left side of the road. It’s a story in itself. And so is the fact that tiny little forgotten Tufutafoe, Samoa’s most remote village has made it into the finals for the Song and Dance Competition: only 4 villages out of hundreds make it to the finals. I love a good underdog. The song is awesome. My favorite line is “people in this country is our biggest industry”. It refers to steady export of Samoans to developed countries to work and send home remittances which constitute the majority of village families incomes. So, with that in mind, practice road safety vigilantly. Less than 2 weeks till Switch Day.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376986743532282866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/Sp7k9Go54_I/AAAAAAAAAHM/V8JwgBaHoSg/s320/IMG_0211.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"> My Year 6 reading group.<br /><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376991883651631234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/Sp7poTE2yII/AAAAAAAAAH0/luwi6uwO370/s320/IMG_0445.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center">Little Year 2 boy name Fa'aopo<br /></p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376993305624254082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/Sp7q7EVjFoI/AAAAAAAAAH8/JZecS2LaWT0/s320/IMG_0482.JPG" border="0" /><br />The Road Safety Song and Dance competition. Fa'aluma, the boy in the white leads, the kids. </p><br />Composting Toilet:<br />Fellow PCV, Benj Harding, got the ball rolling for a composting toilet project before I even got to Samoa. He did his research and worked to get other volunteers interested in the project. It stuck with me. Last week I was informed that I would receive funding for a demonstration toilet through the program Appropriate Projects. I am going to have a few people help me build the new toilet at the Committee House. A composting toilet is a toilet that composts human waste into a humus or topsoil that is suitable as soil enhancer for tree crops, such as pepper, cocoa, banana, nonu, breadfruit, coconut, mango, and star fruit. As well as providing non-chemical fertilizer, a composting toilet dramatically decreases the amount of water the average person uses daily flushing a toilet. For reasons illogical, but consistent with western standards, water-scarce Tufutafoe has adopted tank flush and pour flush toilets. I flush my toilet once a day. If I don’t go for a full shower I use 1/3 of my total daily water supply on flushing the toilet, if I do the full shower, ¼. That’s a lot of washing, cooking, and drinking water wasted. The composting toilet I’m building doesn’t use any water beyond a half liter or so for weekly cleaning of the bowl. Also, there is not a public human waste disposal system in Tufutafoe. People dig pits and sculpt a concrete cover overtop for their flush toilets… Or just dig a deep tight hole and throw a toilet shed on top. Either way, human waste and pathogens are seeping into the ground and, therefore, into local groundwater. This creates unsanitary conditions in our couple of freshwater springs. They are used by 7 families for washing, cooking, and bathing and by the whole village for swimming. The composting toilet decreases ground water contamination by sealing raw waste in a concrete container where it heats up, such is the composting process, killing dangerous pathogens. So thank you Appropriate Projects. You can see the project here and other projects here. <a href="http://appropriateprojects.com/node/27">http://appropriateprojects.com/node/27</a><br /><br />Finally here are some photos, mostly of Yogi.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376989082121952978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/Sp7nFOkIXtI/AAAAAAAAAHc/oMRA_am5bzI/s320/IMG_0059.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"> Wee<br /><br /><br /></p><p></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376989571724392754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/Sp7nhuecuTI/AAAAAAAAAHk/3ywNAwOZL_k/s320/IMG_0168.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"> Little<br /><br /><br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376990745243892370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/Sp7omCLTOpI/AAAAAAAAAHs/ssfxelmsVUY/s320/IMG_0200.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center">Medium</p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376993870980320306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/Sp7rb-c8DDI/AAAAAAAAAIE/9wjurOHwM_c/s320/IMG_0650.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center">Getting bigger, but he won't be full grown for months. Quite stout for a Samoan dog.</p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376994694290661490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/Sp7sL5ha4HI/AAAAAAAAAIM/amWx_StBYbc/s320/IMG_0608.JPG" border="0" /><br />Nearby Falealupo's church ruins. The church was destroyed by a large hurricane in 1989.</p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376995149536023986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/Sp7smZcX1bI/AAAAAAAAAIU/Onea39dUIko/s320/IMG_0618.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center">Bones of unknown people that were ungraved during the same hurricane. <br /></p><p></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376996357918218098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/Sp7tsvBI13I/AAAAAAAAAIc/DX0vwiMo_UA/s320/IMG_0641.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">My 8 year old neighboor draws a picture of me.<br /></p><p></p>Jennifer Kochhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09431549780255505749noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6883691209755377726.post-52277077693585060982009-05-23T16:12:00.000-07:002009-05-23T16:17:48.356-07:00Sewing Machines, Diabetes, and Animal LandThe Peace Corps encourages or requires us to do village surveys. As village based development workers, it’s good to get to know our neighbors, introduce ourselves, and assess general needs and wants of the community. I did my survey way back in September when my language was very weak. It was one of most intimidating things I’ve ever done: walking into strangers houses, awkwardly introducing myself, and then asking a bunch of (by American standards) personal questions. The village overwhelmingly needs access to fresh water and wants sewing machines. We’re still in bureaucratic limbo with watertanks but we did get sewing machines.<br /><br />Two members of the Women’s Committee and I wrote a proposal to the New Zealand Aid Agency for 10 new hand crank Singers, fabric, and thread. The request was granted and we’ve had the machines for about 6 weeks. They are permanently housed at the Fale Komiti and will be available for use to all residents of the village. Next week we are having a sewing workshop taught by 4 expert seamstresses from the Committee and myself. It will cover the basics, like threading a machine, and will work up to sewing togiga and puletasi (school uniforms and dresses). The machines are a great way to save time (hand sewing being the alternative) and money (paying someone to sewing mandatory school uniforms). I’m really proud of my ladies for realizing how important it is to provide education and not just the machines. The 4 experts are also taking a full week out of their lives for sewing school. I’ve been preparing for SS all week: greasing up the machines and making posters. I’m excited to see how it goes.<br /><br />Fellow Peace Corps volunteer, Nick Shuraleff, came to Tufutafoe to do a diabetes and high blood pressure testing clinic. We tested around 50 people in a day and a half. It seems that my village has a very high rate of (possible) Diabetes and HBP: compared with the other villages Nick has tested. Also in comparison, Tufu has a low obesity rate. It kind of throws a wrench in Nick’s “just, look at these numbers, there is a direct correlation between HBP, Diabetes, and Obesity” argument. Nah, Tufu is a just a fluke: it‘s genetics. There is a direct correlation between HBP, D, and O. Check out Nick’s blog. <a href="http://shuraleffinpeacecorps.blogspot.com/">http://shuraleffinpeacecorps.blogspot.com</a> There is even a bit about my African Giant Snail genocide mission. People that had dangerously high blood sugar or pressure were referred to the hospital where they can be retested and put on appropriate medication for, I’m assuming, an affordable sum. I know that an epileptic boy gets his medication for $4 WST (or less than $2 US) a month. The testing made me realize what a prominent problem the diseases are here. Samoa has the worldwide 2nd highest rate of adult onset Diabetes. Diet, exercise, and awareness are key in fighting the diseases. Nick ended the first day of testing by making a giant cauldron of low sugar pineapple preserves; awesome with fresh bread and good for you. At night, Nick stayed in my bed and I took to the mats next door with my ladies. Since they stay here to protect me, I got to sleep wedged in the middle of a Samoan people fortress. Obviously learning nothing from the first night’s snore decibel reading, I forgot to grab my earplugs the second night.<br /><br />I wrote about Whiskey, my first dog. I thought Whiskey ran away for good so I got a new puppy. Yogi! Fat little flea infested Yogi. The same day village girls showed up with Yogi, Whiskey instinctually returned from her 2 month sabbatical. I guess she was jealous. Whiskey was back for good and decided that she should become viscously protective of me and Yogi. She started attacking everyone that walked by on the road and then started nipping at kids, wee kids. My house is a busy place: the Fale Komiti is the villages main meeting hall. This behavior was not cool! Then she started following me on my daily trips to the school and biting kids there. It was awful. All the buildings are open here, there is no way to keep her out and I wouldn’t be able to go to Apia to buy a chain for at least a month. I was upset and asked some older respected Samoans what I should do. They saw no problem and complimented Whiskey’s violent nature. They said she would keep the bad people away at night and keep the kids from bugging me. Then people started asking if they could have Whiskey. After the whole village called her a scrawny chicken eating floozy for months, Whiskey had turned into a swan in high demand. I gave her to a recently robbed teacher from a neighboring village. And…… It took Whiskey 4 hours to find her way back. We tried again today, this time with a chain and confusing bus ride. I hope it sticks. Hmmm. I may miss Whiskey. But, she smelled just awful, so maybe not. And she’ll probably come back. I also seem to have acquired a festering footed cat named Cat. Anyone that’s seen The Incredible Journey knows I have the major players. And I am not willingly taking 3 ill-behaved animals back to America.Jennifer Kochhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09431549780255505749noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6883691209755377726.post-16116392078564213372009-04-28T15:45:00.000-07:002009-04-28T15:50:01.295-07:00My Garden Boys<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/SfeH77q531I/AAAAAAAAAGs/F1K_Rs_e3wQ/s1600-h/IMG_0038+(Small).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329878147715948370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/SfeH77q531I/AAAAAAAAAGs/F1K_Rs_e3wQ/s320/IMG_0038+(Small).JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><br /><div></div></div>Jennifer Kochhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09431549780255505749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6883691209755377726.post-84267004750143246662009-04-23T16:39:00.000-07:002009-04-23T17:01:55.587-07:00AsiasigaNote: Though I am posting these at the same time, there is about a month in between their actual happenings. This blog reflects events of the last week. <br /><br />Asiasiga means a check up. Sorry I don’t have the dictionary definition: the pastor’s wife won’t give me my Samoan-English dictionary back. So it goes here in the village. Yesterday I went on an asiasiga to all the families in my village. The Samoan government’s Ministry of Women has a village based representative in our Women’s Committee. Her name is Moe. We also have a village mayor, yup, our 3rd mayor since I’ve been here. His name is Tala. The village has rules on the standard upkeep of each household - Spencer says like a homeowner‘s association: true. In Tufu you have to #1 take care of unsightly weeds #2 the toilet facilities can’t be completely disgusting (this is relative) and doors are encouraged #3 the kitchen fale’s roof can’t be leaking #4 there must be an attempt to grow vegetables! The last one is a brand new village rule and quite progressive for Samoa. Tala, Moe, Moe’s BFF, Ula, and I: the 4 of us trampled around the village for 10 hours checking on our 40 families. The visual check took a few minutes at most, but we had to stop and eat and drink and gossip with half the fams. I’ve done this asiasiga business a few times and I’ve yet to see anyone get fined for slight upkeep neglect… a fine that I’m sure would never get paid. Other villages seem to be more liberal with the fining. So, I’m proud to say 37 out of 40 families have some sort of vegetable growing. During training we heard horror stories about how you would never see a veggie in your dinner whole time you lived in the village!!! Hogwash if you live here. Long beans, tomatoes, pumpkin and eggplant are the most common, but I also saw radishes, corn, and cucumbers. And cabbage, everyone has little cabbage seedlings growing. The village and I have started 2 community gardens. The first one is at the school and I’ve talked about that. The second is the Fale Committee garden which is tilled and ready to be fenced in. The women’s committee received government funding for vegetable gardening: they used the money to buy tools, fencing for the FC seed garden, and seeds to start the seed garden. (I had a hard time deciding if I should include the following information. I know it would embarrass the village… But I decided to go with it. It is probably safe to say that nobody from Tufu will ever read this and the village has done an amazing job trying to rectify the situation. I think it‘s an important detail to include) All the seeds were stolen from my house. It was hundreds of dollars worth of seeds plus a sizable donated supply from the government and my own private stash. The only seeds the weren’t taken were two cans of cabbage that I had misplaced away from the rest. The whole sitch was quite disheartening. The cabbage seeds that weren’t taken, and ironically don’t flower/produce seeds here in the Samoa climate, were distributed to the village and most people have started growing them.<br /><br />Concerning the missing seeds. A few Tufu families and PCV have donated seeds. We are on the road to having all we need.Jennifer Kochhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09431549780255505749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6883691209755377726.post-85518457598290293462009-04-23T16:38:00.000-07:002009-04-23T16:39:32.206-07:00MamoemausuFaalavelave. Ahhh, faalavelave. It is a general term for an “event”, and I’m taking the liberty to narrow it down to a rare or one-of event in terms of a persons life. That was wordy. It’s like a funeral or wedding or something. And it also means trouble or chaos. Like, the rowdy kids are faalavelave-ing. Samoan tradition dictates “giving” and then “reciprocal” giving (in general) and also as a part of faalavelave (the wedding/funeral variety). But, not necessarily giving to whom and what one might expect.<br /><br />So, the High Chief, or Alii Matua, Mr. Mamoemausu Taafaga, passed away earlier this week. He suffered a heart attack after walking home from church. He was in supposed great health and his death was quite unexpected. So the village mourns. Usu and his family are my next door neighbors and I am privy to the faalavelave that has ensued. His tomb has been partially built and the family’s plantation has been completely cut down and burned to nothing. I still can’t get a clear answer on the second one. So, FAALAVELAVE. Because he was the highest chief of our village there are special proceedings. First, the family has all get here. When everyone does arrive, the high chiefs of neighboring villages will all come to Tufu to pay their respects and provide a gift. That gift will be one palm frond per chief presented symbolically to the family. Since, in Samoa, we respond to giving by giving in return (and upping the anti), each Chief will receive $1000 (WST) from the grieving family(!) There are going to be 15 or so chiefs throwing in a frond(!) And on top of this, the family has to provide all the funeral supplies, grave, food (for a grip of really hungry Samoans), and various other expenses. Luckily the village is helping, we will all give what we can. OH WAIT! They will just have to give it back 10 fold. I somehow received $20 from the last funeral I went to… of a woman that I had never met, who actually lived and died in Hawaii before I even moved to this village. I did have to sing a song I didn’t know in front of an audience in her honor, so I was a bit passive about refusing the money. My contribution to Usu will be a bolt of white fabric for the family and I big plastic flower bouquet for his tomb. Usu was a very nice man. He treated me with the utmost respect. RIP<br /><br />I had the best kitten in the world for 10 days. I was sitting on my porch with my Samoan brother, Peni, and a tiny white ball-o-cat came shooting over the railing and immediately annihilated the joint. Okay, so within 10 minutes he had destroyed my seedlings, broke my tea mug, and gotten stuck in the thatch. I was in love. For 3 days it was great. He crawled into my bed at night and slept on my neck. He was soft and sweet smelling and loaded with kitteny personality. Then he got sick. Something happened, maybe ate a toxin, and he couldn’t move. He just laid there looking awful while I fed him with a dropper and changed him. I had to leave town for a bit, when I came back he had passed. Poor boo. The Samoan kids had made a grave for him. It says Sieni’s cat and has flowers and rocks around it. I have never seen another animal grave in Samoa.<br /> <br /> Gardens!<br /><br />School Garden:<br />The school garden continues to grow and has begun bearing fruit. We have tomatoes and the beans are on their way. I go to the school nearly every day to regulate in the garden. Various kids duck out of class and help me water, weed, repair the fence, and fertilize. We talk about what they did in school thus far and where their other shoe is. Translating their creative answers helps me with my language. They practice their English on me: asking the names of my parents and how many kids I have. Um. Public garden enemy #1 is kids. They trample over seedlings, cause for the institution of the 4 kids allowed at a time rule, and the introduction of me as a disciplinarian. I’m so tough now.<br /><br />Fale Komiti Garden:<br />We are tilling the soil. It is terribly rocky and I can now understand why the land was so readily donated. The ladies of the Komiti and I work in the rock pit a few hours everyday with pick axes and machetes. Both of which they make me use just so they can laugh at me. I’m also such a good sport now. We are working all around the grave of my cat. God bless the kids for burying my cat, but their placement, um, in the middle of the untilled garden, was a little reckless. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. We are going to plant corn, peanuts, beans, eggplant, okra, green peppers and sunflowers in the garden, oh and I‘m going to discreetly slip in some jalapeño peppers. They ladies are beside themselves about the peanut situation. I’m not sure what it is about Samoan ladies and peanuts, but other PCV are experiencing hyper zealous responses to talk of peanut farming. They are easy to grow in mediocre soil with little water or attention. Sweet! Peanuts it is. This garden’s primary purpose is to produce seeds for family gardens, and secondarily to introduce some new veggies to the village.Jennifer Kochhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09431549780255505749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6883691209755377726.post-9957887378206611302009-03-13T12:30:00.000-07:002009-03-13T12:39:39.159-07:00"None"The mayor, pulenuu, of my village was let go. I’m not sure what the actual reason is/was; and I think it is wise not to rely on the various creative answers given to me by the women of the committee. I guess I’ll refine the information given into a sort of truth. I do know he was asked to step down 2 years shy of his family’s allotted 3 years to hold the position. Then, later that day, he was struck by lightning. He was knocked unconscious and has pretty awful looking burns on his chest, but is apparently okey dokey. He didn’t even go to the hospital. This just isn’t his week. His wife is having a baby soon. They told me, if it’s a girl, it will be named after me and if it’s a boy it will be named after my father, Wally. Hopefully that process goes a little smoother.<br /><br />Women in Samoa can’t or don’t do a lot of things. They usually don’t hold Matai titles (ie they don’t hold political positions of power in the village council of cheifs). Usually. There is one woman mataii in my village. Her name is Luama. She runs a Noni Juice factory, is working on becoming a certified organic farmer, is partial owner of a flipflop (the staple shoe of Samoa) company, knows how to drive a delivery truck, is a selfmade woman, generally kicks ass and is quite a role model. (contradiction) She smokes, which is another things women don’t do, at least often, in public. The older a woman, the more slack she is given. You just don’t tell an elder what’s what here. Men do smoke in public. Women drinking alcohol in the village is a major taboo. I should add that after talking to other volunteers, the aforementioned may be more applicable in some villages than others. Like mine. Women do not drink alcohol in Tufu. Women, likewise, traditionally, don’t drink Ava. Ava, or Kava, is a tepid tea of dried ground pepper plant root mixed with water. Ava drinking ceremonies are commonly given to visiting parties as a village welcome. A young virgin girl, the taupou, mixes the Ava and all the dudes sit around in specially designated places and say specially designated things and drink Ava. Or, probably more commonly, there is no virgin or party to welcome, just a bunch of old farts having social hour. It‘s this country‘s version of the table of grandpas at Pig and Pancake that sip coffee all morning. The next house over is where they all gather in Tufu. I know Ava is also common at Samoan construction sites. Okay, so it is a mild stimulant and it makes your lips and tongue numb. Drinking Ava all morning affects me less than consuming 16 oz. of coffee (which throws me into a complete spaz). It’s pretty harmless. It tastes like Mate, which in turn tastes very similar to dirt. Oh, not that I would know… (As I write this, the old men are at it again, giggling like 1st grade girls). <br /><br />---- A few weeks ago I was schlepping around my house when I spotted the whole matai council trekking up my hill. I was their target and I scrambled to find appropriate clothing, which I didn’t really. They crowded onto my porch and talked to me about the proposal I wrote to the UNDP for water tanks. They had some questions, but mainly just wanted to thank me for my effort. (I really hope the proposal is approved). To show their appreciation, I was invited to join them to drink Ava! I told them I heard it was forbidden for women, but they assured me this was a special case and they would love my company. They said I should change my clothes while they mixed the Ava and a boy would come and get me. So they all went to the fale next door and I changed and sat on my porch; waiting and waiting and waiting…. like a dumbass, apparently. The mataiis had pulled a prank on the Peace Corps girl. They drank their Ava without me and shared quite a few jokes on my behalf that morning. Now every time I see one of them, they dramatically asked me why I never showed up and tell me how sad everyone was that I didn’t come. Alright, matais, I see what your playing. It‘s the practical joke game and I am in.Jennifer Kochhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09431549780255505749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6883691209755377726.post-15939471123792410262009-03-05T11:19:00.000-08:002009-03-05T11:48:00.250-08:00<div><br /><br /><div><br /> </div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div>Finally! I got the ladies to take me fishing. I’ve been asking to go for 3 months. They were afraid I would slip on the wet rocks and break my neck… which I almost did, but only twice. And they totally biffed it too. We have about a mile of coast in Tufu: white sand with tide pools created by lava flow and a small lagoon (used for washing and bathing). Lady fishing is the harvesting of creatures from the pools at low tide. Man fishing is of the fishy type with a spear, rod and hook, or a paopao (outrigger canoe) past the reef. Man fishing past the reef scares the crap out of me, but I want to go sometime. And good luck to me on that. I send everyone into hysterics when I say I want to go. They sarcastically ask me if I am going to kill a shark: which I plan on doing and don‘t get the joke. So, the ladies (and kids) collect crabs, clams, oysters, lots of other mollusks, sea cucumber guts, whatever they can find. It’s a delicate dance scampering over wet smooth stone (with a foot long machete) to catch a spastic crab and I’ve acquired a new level of respect for my ladies and my dinner. And words won’t do justice to the beauty of the Tufu coast. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309786542285874818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/SbAmuk4ZZoI/AAAAAAAAAGE/q244WnX994o/s320/IMG_9641.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br />Vanity Fair (November 08), Vitoria, Pepe, and Teuila reading Vanity Fair (July 08)<br /><br /><br /><br />I cherish my alone time. I get so little. This is how my living situation works. Samoan women fall into (at least) 1 of 4 groups. Aualuma, Faletua, Tausi, and Tamaitai o Taulealea. Respectively, women born in the village, wives of chiefs, wives of talking chiefs, and wives of untitled men. The four groups make up the women’s committee. I live in a little traditional Samoan house next to the women’s committee house (right next to, 9 feet). The bottom half of my walls are corrugated metal, the top half is screen. I hear and see everything they do and vice versa. The four groups alternate weeks in which they leoleo me. “Protect, watch over, or police”. And do they ever. There are constantly multiple women sitting in the open air committee house (still 9 feet away) leoleoing. They feed me and keep me company and harass me with inappropriate questions and comments. Often their kids not-yet-in-school accompany them and find entertainment in staring at me through my window. It’s pretty fun to watch me being grumpy that kids are staring at me through my window. The women are pressed for engaging activities as well. A few of them bring their fine mats to work on or their sewing machines. Most of the time they occupy themselves with faitala, gossip. Luckily they want their free time to be engaged more productively and we are in the process of starting a sewing center (with hand crank machines). Myself and a few knowledgeable Tufu residents are going to provide weekly lessons in basic sewing technique when we get the machines. The ladies can work on doing something productive in their free time and once the skill becomes second nature, they can multi task with gossip. I have gracefully fought to live here sans the leoleo and Tufutafoe is just not having it. So for now, I have only the rare hour alone when someone forgets to show up to protect me. And know that when this happens it is a great tragedy/embarrassment for the committee (in the eyes of the committee alone). Samoan culture excludes the virtues of alone time. Unfortunately. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/SbAqCv0y8RI/AAAAAAAAAGM/dEm-oeOvSec/s1600-h/IMG_9714.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309790187355828498" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/SbAqCv0y8RI/AAAAAAAAAGM/dEm-oeOvSec/s320/IMG_9714.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The school garden. Tufutafoe Primary School’s motto is No Pain No Gain. Corporal punishment is illegal here, but a law that is often disregarded. Our school’s teachers luckily employ good judgement, SO, the motto can be looked at humorously. Hahaha. We have a five room school house. There are 8 levels and 3 teachers… we are 1 short due to a maternity leave. When fully staffed, each teacher has 2 grade levels, or around 25 kids. Year 1s are about 5 or 6 years old and Year 8s are 12 or 13. The extra room is used as a library and it is my goal to get a few computers up and running here. The school garden is fenced off and free of vegetation: not a garden yet. We want to turn it into a vegetable garden, starting with eggplant, green peppers, long beans, radishes, and tomatoes. I am planning the garden layout right now and have all the seeds, seedlings, and cuttings. Next week we till, bed, and plant. I am excited about working with the kids on this project. It is going to be educational, aimed at the specific grade level that is helping. The little kids will learn basic (really basic) gardening words in English progressing to the year eighters doing experiments with composting and soil type. There are 8 grade levels, but only 4 classes here. Each teacher has two year groups. By the end of my time here, I want the garden to operate without my supervision. It will be an ongoing project of teaching the kids and staff about seed harvesting, crop rotation, fertilization, irrigation, mulch, etc. Grips of Tufu people are excited about the garden. When word got around, someone donated a chunk land to the Womens Committee so I could work with them as well to start a garden. Helping these two gardens get off the ground is going to be a lot of work…. I am starting to get overwhelmed with projects. The crazy watertanks, a sewing center, new gardens, a school hall design to help another volunteer, a village computer, introducing composting toilets. Oh my.<br /><br />Update: We planted half the garden. The Year 7 and 8 kids spent a the good part of the day tilling the ground and building beds while I followed them around with seeds and seedlings. We almost lost all our radish seeds when a boy named Mose decided they tasted good. Everything we planted is supposed to do well without much water. I am going to get some more seeds on Friday from another PC volunteer that has managed to cultivate a small vegetable farm in his village. Tufu and I are indebted to him for his book, advice, and example. Thank you, Nick.<br /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div><br /> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/SbAryBs0YHI/AAAAAAAAAGU/oNYGlQ0BGVk/s1600-h/IMG_9813.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309792099119685746" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 179px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/SbAryBs0YHI/AAAAAAAAAGU/oNYGlQ0BGVk/s320/IMG_9813.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /> Paul, Traditional Samoan Juice, and Nick</div></div></div>Jennifer Kochhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09431549780255505749noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6883691209755377726.post-69792513214099082432009-02-01T18:25:00.000-08:002009-02-01T18:29:39.088-08:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/SYZaQGhgxHI/AAAAAAAAAF8/-aH67w_WJOA/s1600-h/IMG_9201.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298021244323546226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 235px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/SYZaQGhgxHI/AAAAAAAAAF8/-aH67w_WJOA/s320/IMG_9201.JPG" border="0" /></a> What's up!<br /><div>I wrote Pauly a letter giving him the rundown of a few days in the life of me (here in Samoa). He said it was not what he expected. Here is selected excerpts from that rundown.<br /><br />Today I:<br /><br />Woke up at 6. I slept really well last night. I haven’t been using a bug net for a month because it can get stuffy and with a mosquito coil burning, the flying bugs stay away. But, the crawling bugs don’t and I was bit by a centipede, in my sleep, last week. It took until last night to round up my bug net and spray the vicinity with Mortein. Sigh. Relax. I slept well. And centipede bites really (effing) hurt by the way. I was in a dead sleep and I must have felt something crawling on my wrist and tried to brush it off. When it bit me I awoke yelping and confused. It burned for 3 hours and I have welts where his pincers got me. SOB!<br /><br />Today (one day later) I:<br /><br />Woke up at 6 again. And built shelves for my cooking and cleaning supplies. Kind of. I jimmy rigged some kind of shelving system. I don’t have a hammer, so I used a rock. Everybody that walked by thought it was hilarious that I was trying to do physical work. They think I am really weak, and also about 3 years old. I think my arm muscles have completely atrophed from lack of use. They won’t even let me change a light bulb. This is Samoan hospitality combined with me being a small physical specimen…. And it is something that has to change! I finished that and fought to do my own laundry. It has been raining, so we have enough water to spare. When it doesn’t rain for a few days, the tank leaks out all her water and I have to get water from the neighbors tank (maybe 1/8th mile away). Someone always does this for me, though I really want to help. I do laundry with 1 bucket. (I had to be taught this) You add soap to the water, throw in the clothes, and hand washed each piece, piling them up on the buckets lid. Then you dump the soapy water in the back of the toilet, refill the bucket and rinse each piece. Hang them on the line and let them stand for about 2 seconds while the blazing sun does her job. A small bundle of clothes take about an hour. Whites turn gray and brown even if separated. I have new (relaxed, way relaxed) criteria for what is an unacceptable “hole” and “stain”.<br /><br />Later today I:<br /><br />A **ing centipede fell right on my face! It fell out of my roof which is thatch and they apparently love to live in, out of the thatch right onto my face where it clung to my right eyebrow. After my last incident, the Samoans taught me to quickly sweep away pedes, so they don’t have time to pinch. So I did that and it landed on the collar of my shirt. I shook it off and killed it slowly with my new can of death (Mortein) and a flipflop. These things are big too. This one was only 4 inches long, but that’s a big thing to have stuck to your face. Oh, and also, I have headlice. These teenage girls worked for an hour to pick the eggs and bugs out of my head, but I’m too infested. I need the shampoo. It have been itching for days. Not a good week for me and bugs.<br /><br /><br />Today (new day) I:<br /><br />Got a puppy (actually 3 days ago). She’s about 3 months old and a mess. Fleas, ticks, malnourished, and mangy. She’s a mut. The dogs here seem to grow as big as your generosity with food grants: meaning, Palagi dogs get big, tall and healthy while under (or not at all) fed Samoan dogs remain scrawny. I plan on building a beast…. As soon as she can sleep through the night without crying. I’ve had her on a chain for 2 days, as she kept trying to wander back to her old house. After feeding her and cuddling her for just 48 hours, she has repledged her loyalty. To me. Sellout dog! The Samoans named her Uisti (pronounced Wistey), which is almost a kind of cheesy snack chip. Oh, and this was a second choice to Barbie. They were really pushing for Barbie. Since Ts and Ks are interchangeable in the Samoan language, and because she is the same color as a full bottle of JD… I’m calling her Whiskey. The Samoans thought I was out of my mind for holding her. I probably am. I probably have ringworm and typhus now. However when she cried for an hour the first night, and the ladies employed their technique for making things shutup -- hitting and throwing rocks, and that didn’t work, and then I cuddled and cooed her to sleep, I was given a rare compliment, and called poto o le maile. Dog smart. A lot of tough love here in Samoa. Also yesterday, I completed a mini project I’m working on. About 6 weeks ago, we cultivated land for a massive garden at the school. The school is one of the rare spots in the village, through government funding, that has more than enough water tanks… and therefore, water. The garden only has a few laupele plants growing in it, from local cuttings. Laupele is kind of like a hearty spinach substitute leaf that endemically grows on bushes. Its basically the one of the only 2 leafy greens I’ve eaten in the village. To supplement that, I got some seeds from the Samoan Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries. All sorts of seeds (eggplant, peppers, radishes, beans) that are supposed to grow well here. Some people made me planter boxes (because I am incapable of doing something so physically taxing myself) and dirt that is 99% rocks. I sifted the rock dirt and planted my seeds yesterday. Hopefully in a few months we can transplant some seedlings into the school garden. I want to start a garden here at the Womens Committee, too. And what I really want is to teach my Samoans (that’s what I’m going to start calling the people of my village) about, is harvesting the seeds to promote seasonal planting and sustainability. There could be opportunity to grow vegetables here that won’t grow anywhere else in Samoa; the climate is hotter and drier here than the rest of the country. At the very least, fresh veggies will supplement a diet that often times consists (very) primarily of protein and starch. Pork, taro, fish, pork, taro, fish, taro, taro, pork, spam, spam, spam. So, I planted some seeds and we’ll see what happens. This morning I woke up to find the ladies had re-chained Whiskey to the tree that shades my seed boxes. Whiskey was trampling all over my hard work. Why there, ladies? Why that tree and why re-chain her at all? Aua le popole. Sa lou maile manao le paolo. “Don‘t worry, it‘s cool…. Your dog wanted to go in the shade” Yeah right, the shade from the 6:00 am blaring sun? I don’t understand.<br /><br />Fact:<br />Out of the 400 people that live in my village, 5 have jobs. 5!!! 4 are teachers at the school and 1 works for the government for like 5 hours a month. There is just no job opportunity here. We are too far away from everything and the bus runs sporadically (and painfully slow). And no motivation. People can get every thing they need to survive from the land and sea. They can make houses from nothing but coconut trees. One plant. One plant! I am just so amazed by this.<br /><br /><br /><br />That’s all.<br /><br />My lice are gone, but I had to resort to spraying my head with Mortein (which is apparently the most usefull thing I own). My vegetable seeds sprouted and it was pretty much the proudest day of my life. No wait! 2 days ago when they survived a series of torrential downpours, that was the proudest day of my life. It was like being a proud mother watching your kid win a playground fight. Whiskey has run away to her original home so many times I have given up on retrieving her. The Samoans all made fun of her anyway, calling her a chicken-eater and floozy and ugly skinned. Malosi taa tama lou maile. “Your dog has strong urges to hang out with the boy dogs.” Yep, being an unspayed female… that is biologically hard to deny. It was only a matter of time. Yesterday was my birthday. Moe and Seuula, the couple in the village that have taken me in as one of their own, threw me a party. They brought me Samoan donuts (panikeke) for BFAST, a pig and icecream for LUNCH, and for DINNER: I had to put on my brand new garishly awesome Puletasi that Moe made me. Then Seuula read me a verse from the Bible about the King’s (damned in the eyes of God) mistress having a Birthday and her Birthday wish being the head of John the Baptist. Umm. Seuula told me he hoped I would come up with a better birthday wish than her! Ummm. I think/hope it was just a last minute choice with something about a birthday in it, with no hidden significance. Our dinner was fried chicken, chicken soup, chicken and noodle soup, taro, breadfruit and palusami. Pepe, a nice old lady, gave me some fabric for a dress. My neighbors gave me traditional Samoan war weapon called a tableau “8 spear”. It’s a crazy flat club with 8 points. Totally badass. Then we took pictures and I went to bed at 9:30. Click on my flickr link to see new photogs. XO<br /></div><div></div><br /><div></div>Jennifer Kochhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09431549780255505749noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6883691209755377726.post-16319649451632253432008-11-04T09:58:00.000-08:002008-11-04T10:08:22.280-08:00In the village of Tufutafoe, Savaii, Western Samoa (In the Peace Corps)<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264865054523299202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/SRCO32U6lYI/AAAAAAAAAF0/SsDepRYPYFc/s320/IMG_9006.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><br />This is my house. It's called a faleo'o.… Let my previous blog entry show the probable regularity of me posting. Here is the rundown. I am in the Peace Corps in Western Samoa. I live in Tufutafoe Savaii on the Falealupo peninsula. I have heard that the westerly most point of the peninsula (probably about a kilometer west of my house) is the westerly most chunk of land in the world (!!!). Yes, if you travel any further west you will be met by acid spewing people-hungry Leviathon Eels that are actually there to protect you from the less fortunate fate of tumbling off the edge of the earth.<br /></div><div>I have been in this village for 2 months, and in Samoa for 5 months. We (the original 13 of us in my group) went through 3 months of language and cultural training before separating and being distributed to villages throughout both of Samoa’s 2 islands. So the language. I fluctuate between cheersing myself for being so great at the language in such a short amount of time and crying in defeated self-pity because I am such a language retard. Needless to say, it’s hard to learn a totally new language. And, Samoan has no roots in the foreign German and French I know a little about. It’s all new: think Hawaiian words like “Hawaii”, “Mahi Mahi”, and “Aloha”. My family speaks basically no English and this area of Savaii is quite remote, so there are few English speakers in the village. I will have to get better if I want to accomplish anything, or survive for that matter.<br /></div><br /><div>I am here to do WATER SANITATION work. There is not a piped water system. Water needs are satisfied by rainwater harvesting: catchment systems, gutters, and tanks. Water is a precious resource, as the whole peninsula, plus some, falls in a rain shadow as a result of the easterly mountains (amongst other geographical factors). The village really wants supplemental water tanks. I will spend the next few years tackling that, and other stuffs the village is concerned with. It looks like I will be doing some grant writing, teaching, workshop facilitation, bandaid and asprin distribution, etc.<br /></div><br /><div>That’s all for now.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div> </div>Jennifer Kochhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09431549780255505749noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6883691209755377726.post-31982080965108942192008-01-04T15:01:00.000-08:002008-05-20T18:19:02.618-07:00So It Begins<div align="left">I am a Peace Corps Invitee!!! This essentially means that I want to join the PC and it's affirmative they want me to join too. I will hear the exact where, when, and what, when the official invitation package lands on my doorstep (in about 2 weeks?, it's just been sent out from DC). Jeez, I'm brimming with anticipation! I heard the acceptance news, via email, over my morning coffee at work. Pictures below.<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="left">This is a pivotal point in the sometimes frustrating (though usually breezier than I expected)beaurocratic I-want-to-join-the-Peace Corps process. I've applied, been interviewed, written my little essays, endured doctor's pokes and prods and psychological evaluations, and now recieved a stamp of approval. I was originally recommended for a position in the Pacific Islands leaving late May/early June of 2008. With my architecture and engineering background, it was thought I would work well in a water and sanitation project management type o' position. Sounds sweet to me. </div><br /><br /><div align="left">I think I might be going to either the country of Samoa or Palau. There appears to be programs leaving in my aforementioned projected departure times doing water work both places. I'll wait and see. I'm thrilled and know this is the right thing for me to do right now, but I am already missing certain people that can't come with. Oh dear, goodbyes are difficult.</div><br /><br /><br />XO<br />JK<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/R37DGPBBAHI/AAAAAAAAABg/rWHl_6WvA5k/s1600-h/Picture+003.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151769535635849330" style="WIDTH: 317px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 196px" height="215" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/R37DGPBBAHI/AAAAAAAAABg/rWHl_6WvA5k/s320/Picture+003.jpg" width="320" border="0" /></a></p><p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/R37HrfBBAKI/AAAAAAAAAB4/zaNlUn7R7zQ/s1600-h/Picture+005.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151774573632487586" style="WIDTH: 313px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 210px" height="215" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/R37HrfBBAKI/AAAAAAAAAB4/zaNlUn7R7zQ/s320/Picture+005.jpg" width="293" border="0" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2ku4q-apmQU/R37FufBBAJI/AAAAAAAAABw/swZ6DTY7l5M/s1600-h/Picture+005.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><a href="http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=4246190"></a>Jennifer Kochhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09431549780255505749noreply@blogger.com1