So here’s your holiday

Life is not always inspiring here. There are very difficult days, sometimes these days come in groups of days. I’m hoping they don’t come in bundles of weeks. They are challenging, require constant supply of patience and an escape when your endurance finally breaks. There are little and big straws that cause the camel’s back to break. If you are interested in joining the Peace Corps, please and I mean PLEASE mentally prepare yourself for these inevitable tests.

I’ve gotten used to the 5am prayer calls coming from the Mosque about twenty feet away from my house. What I still haven’t gotten used to is the endless supply of babies crying. There are two babies, six toddlers, eight kids within my concession. At least one of them is always crying. This does not include the babies in the neighboring concessions. I used to be sympathetic to people who cry, now I am apathetic. I defend my indifference because I’ve discovered that anger does not help. But anger does pay a visit every now and then.

I made the mistake of setting the precedent that the children are always welcome, BIG mistake. Sometimes there are more than fifteen kids in my living room, some days I don’t know who some of them are. Some of them have gotten used to coming in and playing with the blocks without even asking. I kick them out every time they do. Kids are only good at two things, crying and not listening. I have to constantly break fights, settle disputes and other time wasting actions that result in the children not learning a damn thing because they do it again after a few minutes. They leave my living room a mess, my couches disheveled and they have a knack for leaving random things in my house. I decided a few days ago that it was time for some reforms, they were simply combusting way too many of the remaining synapses that they have left me.

One of the most irritating things is that the children go through my garbage. I remember opening a can of tuna and a few days later one of the kids was casually holding the empty can as he walked through the concession. This is one of the reasons I want to start some sort of waste management program in my village. There is simply no privacy, at all. When I do shut my door, they love to knock. Knock and knock and knock and knock until I finally tell them what they should already know. If I leave the door closed for more than four hours the women in my concession ask me if something is wrong. There are many people who like to come to my concession because we have a faucet connected to our well. When kids come to get water they like to look through my windows and opened door to see what I’m doing, as if I was some monkey sniffing my finger at a zoo. It’s pretty great.

One of the most fun things about living here is not knowing the local language. I know when they are talking about me because they use the word ‘nassarra’ when they speak near me. Nassarra means white person. I used to think Americans were ignorant, nope, now I think they’re tied with Africans. Anyone who is not black, is white. This never gets old for the Asians, Latinos and every other none white Peace Corps Volunteer serving.

Trust me when I say the list can continue for another few pages, I will spare you. Instead I will tell you of the holidays I have to take in order to feel better.

My six K run does wonders. Some exercise after the run just hits the spot, all the spots. I was reminded today why I enjoyed Track and Field during high school. Even though I never competed in any of the events, I loved the training. I loved the running. I remember hating it in the United States when I first moved, running really helped me through the first two years. I’m discovering that it is doing the same here.

Movie Marathon days are the fire extinguisher to my bad work days. Whenever some person blows off one of our meetings or when a meeting goes unsuccessfully I go home and watch movies on my computer. Thank God people in my stage hooked me up with more than 500 gigs worth of movies and shows. Whenever I watch a good film, it inspires me to write something. Watching movies is one of my favorite things in the world to do, it’s better than Novocain.

Writing. Writing has been so cathartic. Writing releases my negative energy from my finger tips. Even now, it feels like I’m taking a drink of water after a long run. I’m regaining my strength and reflecting at the same time. What better use of time could there possibly be? I spend more time writing than I do reading. Each letter is like a friend who listens to me vent or responds with good advice. Every period I type is a deep breath, a count to ten that brings me back to my equilibrium.

There are of course others, hanging out with friends, listening to music, cooking, drinking, playing the guitar, reading, playing computer games or my Gameboy. But none of them top the three I wrote about. Writing, watching films and exercising are the greatest vacations. These three things don’t just get me through the challenging days but they help me learn from them. They help me grow, they ultimately strengthen my stamina.

I hope this explains some of the downs and back to the middles of living as a PCV.

Yeah, how long must you wait for it?

Sometimes I go back and read past journal entries. It is always interesting. An old friend of mine once told me that she writes her entries with the belief that no one should or will ever read her work. She told me it is liberating and limitless. This is how Kerouac worked. Not me, I can’t do that. I have always written journals, poems, or stories with my audience waiting somewhere in my mind. I think it has kept me connected to them/you. Isn’t it those connections that help us understand one other? It is true that the craziest and probably the most interesting work comes from the writers who are most able to isolate themselves from the world. I won’t lie, given the right mood, I eat that stuff right up. But it simply is not my style.

What is my style? That is what I rediscover every time I go through my old work. Reading my past work has motivated me to do something. I have decided to take this… ahem… blog more seriously. I still cringe a little whenever I say “blog”. Actually, I’m going with Web Journal. That’s it. I have decided to take this “Web Journal” more seriously. I only know a few of my readers, those who have actively subscribed to this thing. I now want to expose this to any stranger who is genuinely interested in reading about my past and current travels/revelations. I no longer want this Web Journal to only be about my life and lessons of my service here in Cameroon. I also want those who are interested to know a little bit of where I used to be in my head. I want you to read some of my past works, the ones I am very happy I forced myself to write. This will be a very long entry because I am pasting three of my past journal entries in it. I once had them posted on Facebook but have long since deleted them. I don’t really remember my reasons for doing that but I’m sure they were dumb. My intention is to edit a few scenes from my life into this production to show you who I was before I arrived to Meidougou, Cameroon. Before every previously written journal entry I will write a small introduction to explain when and where I was in that part of my life. Enjoy!

I

The first from my past that I’m posting I titled, “Death Cab for Cutie Essay.” I once was obsessed with this band and I can defend my reasons. I still occasionally listen to them but now I don’t really have a favorite band. My music depends on my mood, I guess in a way it always has because my mood back when I wrote this was always a little sad and chill. I wrote this on May 30, 2008. I think I wrote this after my first two semesters in Michigan State University. I recall being in the state of mind where I was transitioning from my High School.2 (Lansing Community College) to my real college experience. LCC really was High School.2, I think you’ll see how this kind of explains the tone of this essay.

Death Cab for Cutie Essay, May 30, 2008:

I remember during high school most of my peers kept a blog. We used the website, ‘livejournal’ to share our thoughts, revelations, and the occasional drama amongst us. I remember closing my account because I came to the realization that the posts became more about the responses of others than my actual ideas. I shared my ideas because I thought I had something to prove, but one day I understood that I had no idea what it was that I was trying to prove. I was just another confused teenager trying to use others to find out who I was. I deleted my ‘livejournal’ account because I didn’t like this trait; I wanted to find out who I was for myself. I can honestly tell you that I think my little theory worked. I have figured out where my comfort is at its maximum when it comes to being my self. I can also tell you that I did need other people too. I needed my closest family members and friends to figure this out, as opposed to openly sharing my ideas with my general peers on ‘livejournal’. This ‘facebook’ note post is sort of a sequel to my livejournal posts. Now I know that every blog is always going to be public simply because that’s what the internet represents. So this post is simply a public update of my life using one of my favorite band’s songs to show my progress and thoughts.

I have been working on a massive compilation of Death Cab for Cutie songs to create a portrait of my life’s timeline. I do realize that this band is one of those “love’m or hate’m” bands. Ben Gibbard (the vocalist) has even said that he would rather be in a polarizing band than a generally liked one. So I apologize if you’re on the side that ‘hates’ Death Cab for Cutie, but this is nevertheless whom I have decided to use.

‘The New Year’

Transatlanticism is by far my favorite Death Cab for Cutie album. I was sixteen when it came out and we all remember what it was like to be sixteen. Their melodies were calm, relaxing, and enlightening. I remember sitting down and just thinking with their quiet melancholic verses in the background. Looking back I think sixteen was my most awkward year, I had just moved from Addis Ababa and I had no desire of staying in Michigan. All I wanted to do was return. My cultured cousin Marco introduced me to this album and I just fell in love with this genre of music. It paralleled my emotions and in a way, it placed my feet towards first being comfortable with the atmosphere that this country releases. In a weird coincidence the title of this album, and even the song embodies my crossing of the Atlantic and longing for my old island from where my previous home was.

‘Technicolor Girls’

Death Cab for Cutie is often listened to by the hopeless romantics that are wary of love. Regrettably, I have lived with this characteristic most of my life, but it is something I have been working on shaking off. “The Forbidden Love EP” contains some pretty significant love songs that did not contribute to shaking off that characteristic. I think I bought the album the summer I graduated from high school. I remember listening to ‘Photobooth’ and ‘405 (Acoustic)’ in my sister’s car driving from Farmington Hills back to Holt. Some of the lyrics reminded me of the days I had with one particular girl I had the pleasure of knowing here in the U.S. ‘Tiny Vessels’ is one of my favorite songs ever written, unfortunately the lyrics are quite accurate on one of the girls that I dated in the past. Like a tattoo this song reminds me of something that I need to always remember.

‘Prove My Hypothesis’

I know that most people will agree with me when I say they’ve had several momentous memories on the ‘Passenger Seat’ of someone else’s car. It’s unbelievable how well Ben Gibbard paints this particular moment so accurately in this song. I have had so many life changing realizations on the passenger seat of some of my close friends’ cars. ‘Soul Meets Body’ reveals a very influential revelation I once had about how humans are meant to balance their thoughts with their feelings. With the help of a very close friend of mine I have recently made a discovery expanding this concept. We analyzed human communication and how a balanced combination of information and attachments helps to better understand other people. ‘Expo 86’ also projects some of my philosophies of life. Life is a constant struggle of up and down, love and loss, accomplishments and failures, connections and space. I think this song does a beautiful job of explaining this heart monitor zigzag type life.

‘Blacking Out the Friction’

I want to dedicate one of these sections to a very annoying paradox. During the course of my life I have connected with certain individuals who have profoundly shaped me. I can honestly say that their company has brought me much wisdom and pain. “It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds But I knew that you were a truth I would rather lose than to have never lain beside at all,” These lyrics come from ‘What Sarah Said’. It’s a very sad song, one that does not leave hope for both the listener and the man described in the song. But somehow I have never found it difficult to find comfort in this poetic lyric. The truth is that love creates an infinite amount of both complication and beauty. My most recent favorite Death Cab for Cutie song is ‘Cath…’ The woman in it reminds me of the one that caused me pain (complication) and wisdom (beauty). Alas ‘A Lack of Color’ reminds me of that era too.

‘Scientist Studies’

Unfortunately Death Cab for Cutie does not have songs that share some of my views of patriotism and the importance of family. I have found other bands and songs that provide an outlet for those thoughts. It’s possible that they explore these topics in the future, which I kind of hope they do. For now though I will continue my studies of human connections, international relations, love and finding comfort in life. I hope you all give their new album “Narrow Stairs” a good listen. They continue to evolve and have put their experience to unique and innovative use. I cannot wait to see where these new songs glide to next in the history of my life.

This compilation was excruciating to make because I had to leave out so many beautiful songs. What I ended up doing was simply staying true to this post and simply choosing the ones that have helped me think in the past as well as my absolute favorites. Here is the compilation that I ended up with:

1. Prove My Hypothesis - You Can Play These Song With Chords
2. Cath… - Narrow Stairs
3. Soul Meets Body – Plans
4. Photobooth – Forbidden Love EP
5. Long Division – Narrow Stairs
6. Your New Twin Sized Bed – Narrow Stairs
7. A Lack of Color – Transatlanticism
8. Scientist Studies – We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes
9. Expo ’86 – Tranatlanticism
10.  Brothers on a Hotel Bed – Plans
11. Bend to Squares – Something About Airplanes
12. Tiny Vessels – Transatlanticism
13. The New Year – Transatlanticism
14. What Sarah Said – Plans
15. A Movie Script Ending – The Photo Album
16. Little Fury Bugs – We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes
17. Army Corps of Architects – Studio X Sessions
18. Title Track – We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes
19. 405 (Acoustic) – Forbidden Love EP
20. Styrofoam Plates – The Photo Album
21. Blacking Out the Friction/Brand New Love – The John Byrd EP
22. Steadier Footing – The Photo Album
23. Passenger Seat – Transatlanticism
24. Stability – The Stability EP
25. Transatlanticism – Transatlanticism

II

The second from my past I titled, “Made in: Earth.” I wrote it on June 20, 2008. I recall being very proud of this one when I finished it. The summer I wrote this I was flying with inspiration. I was feeling the confidence of not only the grades I was earning but the ideas I was collecting from all of my classes. I was combining my past travels with the theories I was learning from my classes. Intellectually, it was an exciting time. I remember attempting to drench myself with as many conversations as I possibly could. I have always tried to articulate where I come from and who I am and I think this entry was a great articulation of where I was at at that time. I actually still agree with most of the ideas I exposed in this.

Made in: Earth, June 20, 2008:

A few weeks ago I came home after class and I asked my mom and older sister what it meant to be Mexican. Isis refused to answer but my mom ended up showing me a forwarded email of the different ways Mexicans use the word, "Chingar." This was funny to me, and even a little bit true to what it is to be Mexican, but I know there is a far far deeper definition.

I was inspired by what a Nigerian author said about how Americans view Africans. Her name is Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and she spoke of the different ridiculous questions her American friends asked her about life in Africa. The examples she gave were not surprising to me because I too experienced the same thing. “Did you ride an elephant to school? Was there even a school?” At first I was frustrated by their ignorance but now I have realized that ignorance is the first step to acceptance. The truth is people asked simply because they had no idea.

The other day I left the same class and had a brief discussion of the British’s Empire and how they spread liberalism to the world. I asked myself if the Aztec’s would have eventually modernized without the Spanish colonization. My friend pointed out that it only took a few hundred white men to wipe out an entire civilization. He brought this up trying to prove his point that the Aztecs were probably going to be wiped out. But I fail to see how this was a good thing for the Spaniards, what they did was commit genocide.

I have recently decided to support Obama, one of my main reasons is that he knows exactly what it means to be American. What is funny is that I don’t think most Americans truly know what it means to be American. This loss of identity is essentially what this is note is about.

What am I? I was born in Lincoln, Nebraska. I was raised by a very affectionate Mexican couple. My father was raised in a small farming pueblo, as was my mother. I was raised in Africa, I lived there for 3/5ths of my life. I have traveled to many countries. My second language eventually turned into my first (Spanish to English). I go to a public American university, I am a proud Spartan. My favorite bands are Café Tacuba and Death Cab for Cutie. I plan to return to Africa to begin my career. These very events and facts have greatly contributed to me finding myself.

Like Obama I went through an identity crisis, I had to ask many questions to be where I am today. I have often wondered why my American peers have not undergone the same thing. A good majority of my American friends laugh at their status of being a mutt, “quarter Italian, half Irish, one tenth Cherokee, etc.” Why? Do they simply settle for American simply because it is convenient? It is true that the majority of them were American, but one must continue with the question: What is American?

Obama said in his very famous speech four years ago that to be American is to understand that we are all here in the pursuit of our happiness. That all (wo)men are created equal, and this in essence is what it means to be American. I am proud of this, but I also know that this is not an American idea. Europeans were not the only ones to go through an era of “Enlightenment.” All men are created equal means that ALL men are created equal, and there for everyone (including non-Americans) have the ability to come up with this very beautiful truth. Indians and Chinese went through an era of enlightenment but nobody talks about it. Mexicans created the most accurate calendar ever created but people refuse to call that science.

American white people are the first to jump to the racist jokes. Friends and famous comedians have come up with some very funny ones, but why do they all feel so comfortable making them? They poke fun of proud and progressed cultures. Yet there is still to be a word powerful enough to provoke a white American to violence and anger. Why? Is it a superiority complex that Americans feel it is okay to suppress an opposing culture? Is it the American’s way of softening the situation? Is it the American’s way of trying expose themselves to another way of life? Is it pure racism?

The truth is, Americans are mutts.

I had a conversation with two black women, one was dark but raised in a white neighborhood, the other was lighter black (she had a white father) but raised in a black neighborhood. I thought it was ironic that the lighter one felt blacker than the other. The darker woman felt more comfortable with her white friends, but the lighter woman felt more comfortable with her black friends. This is the melting pot that we live in.

There are Americans who do not care for their heritage. There are Americans like me and Obama who are obsessed with finding out where we came from and who we are and why. There are Americans who are loving but ignorant and Americans who are hateful but intelligent. The absolute truth here is the message we were told in The Lion King. We are one. We are all capable of the same thing yet we strive to be different than others and sometimes can’t stand to be alone.

Mexicans too are becoming mutts, Mexicans have actually been melting for a long time now between the native and Europeans. Now Mexicans are melting with other cultures.

The Nigerian author I mentioned above said this, “If I was a white American watching TV, and movies portraying Africans as skinny black people who have deteriorated their own governments I would think that they are stupid.” I felt a very strong pain when she said this. I have met Africans who have challenged me and pushed me to become a wise and open person. She was right to recognize this, her goal in life is to change this international view of the Africans and push Africans to do the same. Africans are proud and they should be, they have so much to be proud of. I have seen them survive through the toughest situations and become doctors and teachers. I have seen them survive oppressive governments. They are stronger than anyone could ever know, but the truth is they (Europeans and Americans) are capable of seeing this inspiring trait if they just continue asking those questions, even if they are ignorant at first.

So what am I? I am a Mexican American. I put Mexican first for a reason. There are several reasons for this.

My heritage is one of the very few things that cannot be taken away from me. It is sad that I went through a phase of allowing others to push me from nationality to nationality. My Mexican cousins called me Gringo while my American cousins accused me of showering in camel spit in Africa. I had African friends who also refused to accept me as a friend for the color of my skin. There was a time when I too just wanted to be nothing, maybe this is why Americans choose to not find their true heritage. I pushed through this confusion though, I knew there was a reason people were proud to be what they were.

I eventually realized that there was a difference between hatred and heritage. It’s the same reason we can love our American brothers who are in rival universities. For me, I am proud to be a Spartan and am ready to defend my school. Unfortunately when it comes to nations, they defend their honor by belittling another country. This is not the way it is supposed to be. Competition is healthy but too much of it can lead to hate. Too little competition can also lead to hate.

I am Mexican before American because my heart pumps Mexican blood. I love Mexico. I love Mexico for teaching my father what it means to be a hard worker which has allowed me to learn from him. I love Mexico for making the best food in the world. I love Mexico for its progress and achievements. I love Mexico for giving me some of the best summers I have ever experienced. I love Mexico for its music and for its surviving traditions. I love Mexico because it has taught me the importance of family unity and family strength. Yo soy Mexicano porque mi familia es Mexicana. México representa tradición y compasión.

I too am a proud American. Without this country I would not have the wisdom and intelligence that I have today. This country has allowed me to build a spine. I have some very powerful memories in this country and without it, I would not be able to pursue the grand ideas that one day I will introduce to the world. This country represents a home to the homeless, a nest for the wingless, and a school for the international citizen. America has given birth to a handful of mentors that I look up to.

As for my African side, well I hope to help them some day in the manner that they helped me. I have seen their potential and hopefully someday I will expose that to the world.

III

The final entry from my past is probably my favorite. I wrote, “From Detroit to Dhaka,” on April 12, 2009. I wrote it after finishing my internship in Bangladesh. The only traveling I had done out of the country after moving away from Ethiopia was to Canada and my visits to Mexico. I was craving to travel so bad that when I arrived to Dhaka, all of my collected inspiration, education and motivation burst everywhere I went. I loved my experiences in Bangladesh and this entry keeps a vivid memory of my travels. I went through a lot within three short months, it was an indescribable (in one word at least) experience.

From Detroit to Dhaka, April 12, 2009:

In my previous note I mentioned how excited I was to travel again. I said that it was going to be like “going home” because that was the life that I was raised in. Well, I was right.

Looking back, I truly had one of the greatest times of my life there. I was stripped to my core, I had to make new friends, begin my first internship, understand a new culture, manage a long distance relationship, and my goal was to complete my trip with success in all of these.

‘Rediscovering Diverse Connections’

The friends that I made, fucking ‘A’, I just realized there is no way to truly explain to you how grateful I am for my new friends. Every friend I made helped me in one way or another. I was surrounded by people who not only had the same interests as me, but they inspired me.

I met a couple who courageously packed up their bags after finishing grad school and spontaneously flew to Dhaka looking for jobs and a brand new life. Their first night in Dhaka they stayed in a cockroach infested filthy muggy hotel room, now they share a beautiful apartment in a hip part of town. They are now living a life that they will always explain as one of the happiest times of their lives, the kind seen in movies, the kind all people wish they had. I am also grateful for their friendship because they helped me through some hard times (a breakup and the times when I was too inebriated to function).

I met a woman who wasted absolutely no time nor opportunities. She made it a goal to meet someone interesting every single day; this led her to unique adventures like acting in Bangladeshi soap operas. Our conversations kept reminding me that I was in the right place. We shared ideas, experiences, and I found inspiration in her unique approach in intertwining art with her career.

My roommate probably surprised me the most. He was very different from the friends I made. We would always talk about our experiences and discuss what we learned. Our conversations on leadership guided me to many revelations. He pushed me to exercise my faith, something that I’ll never be able to ignore. He took me to my first ever bible study, ironically it was in a Muslim country.

I made a friend who I should have spent more time with. Our first encounter we had an in-depth conversation about the complexities of NGO contribution and correlated it with how cultural misunderstandings cause inefficient outcomes, this led us to a very interesting epiphany that there is a theory missing in the Dependency vs. Modernization theory debates. Our second encounter we did as the Bangladeshis did… we were going to play some cricket but instead we decided to scout out pretty girls at a local market. This is more of an international activity, but it was a Bangladeshi market!

My host family was extremely kind. Their oldest daughter was actually my boss and now good friend. Their middle daughter took me to some truly cultural local activities, she took me to an exhibition on the lives of the people of Dhaka, we went to an art gallery where all of the paintings were done by Bangladeshi’s, and my favorite was our trip to the annual book fair. I also became close with the workers. I played chess with the chauffer and talked regularly with the guard of the house. These men displayed a true noble life, I will always respect these humble men.

This list could seriously go on forever. Nevertheless though, I had a vibrant social life, one filled with good and interesting people, people that changed my life for the better and forever.

‘Professional Lessons’

I worked for an organization named BRAC. It no longer has an official acronym anymore (it has changed like four times), but they like to tell their visitors that now it sort of stands for Building Resources Across Communities. We had a team of six interns in the division that I worked in; our project was to write the Microfinance Annual Report of 2008. For those of you who don’t know, microfinance is basically the process of providing loans for the poor but also intertwining this with other actions like providing them health, agriculture or educational benefits.

Now keep in mind that this was the first time I have ever been in a professional workplace. I mean sure I can call working as a “Guest Service Representative,” in the very prestigious Hollywood Video can be defined as professional but I don’t. I think there’s a difference between high school student minimum wage jobs and in-depth career paths that people spend four years in college preparing for.

Anyways it was my first sort of a real job, seeing how it was an internship I don’t think I can call it a truly “real” job yet. My experiences in BRAC led me to many realizations. Now I know I belong in the developing world, at least for a large portion of my career. I’m not sure yet where specifically but I know it’s in the third world community. The main fundamental reason for this is this, I believe that I was exposed to a world where the people have many complex challenges/problems and I feel a certain responsibility to help solving them. To whom much is given, much is expected and I have always felt that I have been provided with nothing but opportunities, as a result this is my reason for working and living there.

Another realization I faced was one that I am very grateful for. I volunteered to be the team coordinator of our team, and even though I think there were some places where I could have done better, I learned even more from the times I did well. Those times made me realize that I could actually be a good leader someday. Working in BRAC forced me to meet many employees, both inspiring leaders/directors and not so driven drone type workers. I met people who resemble the kind of man I want to be someday in the workplace. Something I will never forget.

‘Understanding a New Culture’

Traveling through Bangladesh was mind blowingly life changing. If there is anything that I do regret is not studying Bangla (the local language) enough. Luckily what I did learn helped me get by both in the villages and the city.

Something that the streets of Dhaka taught me was simply being street smart. Dhaka can be a very dangerous city if one is not careful. The city is dirty, crowded, loud and alive. The traffic is chaotic, I remember seeing blood on a busy road on the way to work one day only to realize that there was a dead body caused by a bus hitting a naïve pedestrian. A ride through town took forever, it did not help my headaches that honking is like breathing, well maybe not like breathing because even breathing could be hard sometimes due to the polluted air (many citizens wore mouth & nose covers). But this is all the semi-bad stuff, I didn’t even mention the casual urinating on the sidewalks or the regular muggings.

My favorite part was probably the rickshaw rides (especially in the villages). It was very inexpensive to live there, the restaurants were amazing, the recreational clubs were a great place to hang out and the city always had interesting places to visit. It helped a lot that the company was always cool and fun. I made a friend though that reminded me that cultural differences should always be at the back of foreigner’s mind, not to mention respected. We started and ended as friends, but somewhere in the middle we almost ended up as enemies! Let me elaborate while still being vague.

We were tight from the beginning, she is a patriotic Bangladeshi college student with a western flair to her interests. I am simply a Mexican, born in the U.S. that was raised in Africa. We had a friendship that I would say was probably attracted by our opposite yet mirror personalities. She got very angry at me and my American and British friend one day for making too many jokes about Bangladesh, we simply did not understand why she was so angry because here in the West, we all know that cultural jokes are favored. That fight grew into something a little more personal where we looked for flaws within each others personalities to win our disputes. It grew larger and larger until finally we apologized to each other. We realized that we could overcome our cultural differences, a hurdle that I never thought I would run into but glad I overcame.

Sure the meeting new people, eating good food, learning a new language, understanding a different religion, witnessing different lifestyles, etc. were all interesting and eye opening but the simple beauty of traveling and seeing the beautiful countryside touched me in a way that the others could not have. I’ll never forget one rickshaw ride I took, I saw a father planting rice with his son, on the same rickshaw ride I saw school children laugh together walking home, I saw tired farmers gather around tea shops discussing life and probably women, all of this happened in the gorgeous countryside. My favorite part of Bangladesh that I saw was in the Srimongal, a rare hilly side of Bangladesh where thousands of acres are devoted to wonderful smelling tea gardens and delicious tasting pineapple plants. The top of one of these hills exposed scenery that no photograph could do justice to.

‘A New Relationship with Relationships’

A lesson that I seriously did not plan on was a far more personal one, one that was very painful and had the potential to ruin my stay in Bangladesh (and in many cases… did). We all know that breakups are not easy, fuck we all know that they have the potential to take people down the worst of directions. I have a new respect for lovers who survive a long distance relationship, because we could not even survive one where I was gone for only three months (but I blame this on the girl, not me). It made me realize many things about the kind of woman I want in the future.

I’m seriously tired of women who do not know what they want, they’re the heart breakers because they waste entire relationships re-realizing the same thing over and over again. They’re the ones who learn the lesson but never do anything about it. I’m tired of the women who never change, the ones who are addicted to love, the Taylor Swifts, the one’s who cannot live alone for more than one month, fuck them.

I try not to be too picky when it comes to women, I like to be surprised. I do know this though, that I will not waste any more time with women who are incapable of supporting their own ambitions let alone mine.

‘Final Comments’

All in all I am extremely happy with my travels to Bangladesh. I will continue to promote traveling to all Americans. Nothing but lessons (easy/difficult, fun/challenging, simple/complex) will come out of it. You will see beauty; you will see God’s intricate details all around you and you will find inspiration and challenges that will change you forever. I loved Bangladesh and I will return someday.

And those are the three I wanted you to read. If you were brave (or bored) enough to make it all the way through I want to give you guys a challenge. Whoever can name the songs and artists from which all of my entry titles are based on, I will send a postcard from Cameramaroon. I am not referring to the three from this post, but from the official ones. I will need the winner’s address so please send it to me somehow. I hope you’re enjoying what I have had to write thus far.

Carlos Jesus Fernandez-Torres

February 25, 2011 (Happy Golden Birthday Emma)

If you can’t hold on, if you can’t hold on, hold on

I keep running into very pessimistic people. People that refuse to see the light. People that suck in the pain by bitching about it. By complaining about the problems and pointing fingers. People that refuse to trust other people. And for what? I do not know.

I met someone yesterday who seemed like an honest guy. A neighbor of a friend. A young guy, an honest hardworking guy. Apparently he entrusted his motorcycle to someone with the intention of fixing it up to either sell it or use for what I assume would have been an income generating activity (we call them IGA’s). Anyways, so this mechanic he entrusted his motorcycle to ended up fixing it up and selling it and apparently starting up a boutique (which is a convenience store). In this case it was not so convenient for this neighbor of a friend. I honestly do not know if he’ll recover the money, I hope he does.

I am in the process of beginning a project that I think could actually be insanely helpful for my village. The funny thing is that I think the biggest problem I have right now is the fact that everyone insists on telling me that it just won’t work. I inevitably ask them, “Why?” They respond, “the people, there is no motivation,” then they add, “If it does work, they’ll find away to steal the idea and make their own money off of it.” Again, I add, “Why?” They casually reply, “Because that’s the way it is, this is who we are.”

I’m hoping you’re asking yourself who “we” is in this scenario. The person telling me this is an African man, a person who is very close to me. Every single conversation, and I’m not exaggerating, every single conversation he insists on telling me that Africans have black hearts and will steal your money. He thinks that God has chosen the white people to be successful and blacks are not meant to be successful. I’ve tried telling him that sometimes white people are bigger crooks, look at Enron, or the majority of the people making money off of the recent housing crisis.

I’ve tried telling him that there are successful stories from all corners of the world, stories from races and cultures in between black and white. Brazil’s current rising, the successful reforms that led to the economic success for South Korea, Bangladesh’s success (although it is somewhat controversial but then again, what isn’t?) with microfinance. He asks for an African success story, because here, apparently someone who isn’t black is white (except for the Arabs).

I answer with, Ghana’s democratic turn, South Africa’s membership in the G20, Botswana’s clean sales of diamonds, Tunisian and Egyptian citizens demanding for new and fair leadership.

No matter how fucking hard I try, this man does not listen to me. He tells me to list one African leader who willingly stepped out of power. Of course I went to Nelson Mandela. You know what he said? He said, of course he stepped down, he was old. Do you think a young politician would have stepped out of power like that? He obviously doesn’t know what Mandela went through to see some of South Africa’s progress.

One day I finally lost it. I asked him, do you want me to leave? You obviously don’t want me working with Africans. Apparently I’m inevitably going to get betrayed some how and I shouldn’t waste anymore of my time! He was speechless. Thank God.

The truth is I can’t afford to be ignorant to betrayals. I’ve heard way too many stories from other Peace Corps Volunteers telling me that they got screwed. I know it is inevitable. But I won’t let it get me down, I won’t become an island for it. I’ll find ways to persevere. I won’t ignore my failures and betrayals, I will learn from them because that is what I’m meant to do.

I almost fell off of a motorcycle the other day. I couldn’t hold on, but I held on. And I can type this entry because I did. And if I had fallen off, which I know I will do within my time here, I’m going to get up (hopefully) and walk (as well as not pay). I will simply hold on, for as long as I am alive. And not only is it keeping me alive but slowly, everyday, this man who feeds me pessimism, changes his mind just a little bit. I will try to learn from his pessimism too, and hopefully prevent someone stealing my things to open an inconvenience store.

Carlos J. Fernandez-Torres

February 23, 2011

Who knows what tomorrow will bring, maybe sunshine or maybe rain

I finally started running again. I take the route from my house to the secondary school which is three kilometers away. I run there and back. I love that run, I mean I really love it. My ear-selected playlist complements the scenery in a way I would have never imagined. Ever since I arrived to the Adamawa region, there hasn’t been a single cloud in the sky. The rainy season is coming, so are the clouds… and they are magnificent. Some of them look as if a cloud volcano erupted in the sky and the clouds silently compete to block the sun’s rays. It leaves a red-yellow-orange-ish silhouette. It’s beautiful. The landscape on both sides of the road are hilly savannas, rolling plateaus with a diverse combination of trees. Only the mango and avocado trees are round, the rest resemble the inside of a lung. The papaya trees are my favorite, they look like Indian feathered spears stabbing the ground. The villager’s shout my name as I run, I juggle my salutations with the concentration of my thoughts. I contemplate my work, regrets, accomplishments, sometimes I laugh or smile during my run simply because I remember something funny. All while I look out for snakes and passing by motorcycles. It’s quite a run, my favorite to this part of my life.

I find myself saying this phrase a lot lately, “My favorite to this part of my life.” I am truly lucky enough to tell you that I am the happiest I’ve ever been to this part of my life. It is amazing not having a television, I look back now and realize how many hours of my life I wasted just watching whatever bullshit was on TV. My days now are filled with diverse simplicity. I make all my own meals. Claire taught me how to make yogurt the other day, I make yogurt now. I bought my own meat yesterday for my tomato sauce, delicious. I even had my own cutting board made. I cut garlic, onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, everything on it. I get to decorate my fridge with whatever I crave. I recall a very good friend of mine telling me that the contents of one’s fridge describes one’s character. I have veggies, beer, fresh beef, homemade yogurt, coke, folerae juice (that the kids make keep in my freezer to sell to the travelers) and condiments like jam, mayo and Vache Qui Rit Cheese. I do my own shopping to customize my very own house. The house that I myself am paying for with what I worked to get. Every inch of my house I get to design for myself, I’m sure most of you already know what this feels like, this is a new discovery for me. My neighbors and most of the villagers are very kind. They give me free… everything. Today I got another free papaya, parsley and goat meat. I let the children play with the blocks I bought them as I either, grade papers, play guitar, play on my computer, look for funding for my projects, study fufulde or read. My guitar skills are improving, as are my cooking and writing skills. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

I have three very different and very awesome (couldn’t find a better word to describe them)friends living in a town twenty minutes away. Whenever I feel overwhelmed I go party with them. We exchange wit, vent, laugh, cook, play Catan and drink. Emma is my Vice Prez, as in she knows everything that’s going on in my head and work. Emma and I have assigned ourselves monthly writing assignments, at the end of this month we are exchanging short stories. Without Claire I’d be lost, seriously, the best way I can describe her is that she’s my muse for all my projects. Her consistent balance of hard work and play is inspiring. She is also deserves her own cooking show. Andrew, well, without him and his sense of humor I’d be bored. He helps me to not stay sober all the time and without him I would have no guy to shoot the shit with. I look forward to winning some money from our poker games.  I trust them with things way more important than my secrets, they are the holders of my spare keys and the rails to my progress! I’m blessed to have them so close.

I remember asking my co-workers in Meijer, “How’s it going?” They always, and I mean ALWAYS responded, “Its going.” It’s never just going here. Work is going great. I work at my own pace. I decide my own projects and carefully select the people I get to work with. Today I chose the children that live in my concession to help me on my project. I had to take measurements of a landscape for a potential building I might help get built for the village (more on this later). So yeah, today it was the kids.

I cherried tonight with a group tutoring session with the kids of my concession. They were assigned a homework assignment for the English class and I helped them through it. The topic was, what are the advantages of being bilingual. I had to explain to them that they were all bilingual because they didn’t think Fufulde counted! I hope I taught them more than just that tonight though.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

Carlos Jesus Fernandez-Torres

February 4, 2011

I woke up with the power out

My favorite thing about Ngaoundere right now is my catching up with the internet. I got nervous before I got on here, I’m not kidding. Catching up on emails, the Daily Show, world news, the movies and music I’m missing out on, Facebook, sports (Alabama can go straight to hell) and everything else made me giddy. Now that I’m relatively caught up with the world, let me catch you up with Cameramaroon.

Hmm, where do I begin…

Holidays, definitely holiday story time.

Christmas Eve was the bomb. I was very worried because Christmas Eve is my favorite holiday. It is the one day where my family is united and we spend the evening laughing, eating and opening presents. Ever since Isis left Niger to go to high school in Mexico, Christmas has been the holiday that has always united us. I’m not going to lie, at first it was hard. But it’s not like I don’t have a family here, the Adamawa cluster united at Emma’s house for a bomb ass festivity. The plan was that everyone would contribute to our feast. I ended up preparing one of the only things I know how, my special lemon chicken. And it was a hit! We all ate, drank loads of wine, whiskey, beer, I have to admit, this was the first time I drank and got drunk on Christmas Eve. It was fun though. We all passed out and opened presents on Christmas morning. I got a bottle of Gangster (a cologne that smells like an evening of bad decisions), an Obama belt (here they are obsessed with Obama and put him on everything you can think of, Everything) and I got a toy pirate ship. Thank you Rose, definitely unforgettable presents. After presents we snacked all day on papaya, pop corn and Katie’s absolutely amazing deviled eggs. We played a game of Risk, and then one match of Chess (*cough* I won both, I think my cluster does not like playing board games with me anymore). Went out to a bar, came back and ate tacos. Claire, Caleb, me and three other Cameroonian friends headed out to a concert late (my fault because I had to finish the game of chess against Emily). By the time we got there the band was already packing to leave. I felt bad, and was a little drunk. But because I was a little inebriated I came up with a great idea! I’ll admit I didn’t mean it at first when I said it but it quickly turned into a reality, I shouted, “that’s all right, we’ll just have a private show at Emma’s.” Claire, Caleb and I looked at each other and guess what happened. We talked to the band, settled on a price, bought some more beers and we all (including the band) headed back to Emma’s. It was an awesome show, we were all surprised with how good they were, of course we ended up buying Zala Zulu’s music. It was a great ending to a great Christmas.

Let me summarize New Years a little differently. I should start off by telling you, I decided to spend New Years in Meidougou.

• I woke up with the power out
• Made my first vegetable soup, turned out really good
• Played soccer with the compound kids
• Showered and headed out to Mustafa’s house (He is my community host)
• Watched Paul Biya’s speech to the nation (January 1^st is also Cameroon’s independence day) with him and his mom. It was then when I thought the whole evening would consist of me chilling with his mom in front of the tv.
• She ended up leaving and we parted to a restaurant, which was really some woman’s house with a bench inside. The food was good!
• We hit a bar afterwards, I had a coke (wtf, I know) and a Castel Beer.
• We hit another bar, where things got interesting. We entered a room that was packed with young people dancing. There was B.O. everywhere but it really didn’t matter b/c everyone was having a bomb ass time.
• We walked through the dance floor and sat inside a hidden room in the back where we had 2 more beers. One Cameroonian beer = 2 American Beers. They are way bigger and contain more alcohol. I had enough where I decided to dance at the end of the year, and the beginning of the New Year.
• I danced with my cleaning lady
• There was no count down, just dancing.

Happy New Years everyone.

It looks like I’ve written way too much about my having fun here and not enough about my professional life. Let me tell you what I’ve been doing.

To be quite honest, I’m happy with the quantity and the quality of work that I have been doing. I’ve separated my time and projects in three different areas:

Health Center work:

            I started with just showing up and watching the nurse work. I questioned her on what the health center’s schedule is like and what other work they do besides pre-natal care, nutrition education and vaccinations. I discovered that those are their dominant areas and even though they lack a lot of structure and discipline (they come in late all the time, give each other free vaccines, leave late, leave needles not properly disposed) they are honestly way better off than any of the other centers I’ve seen. They stick to their weekly schedule, treat walk-ins well and have good bed side manner. I decided to write a report on the things they should improve on or stop doing and the consequences of doing some of things they do. I have not yet started writing it but I’m still taking notes of their daily actions.

            Apart from gathering notes for this report, I decided to have a one on one meeting with the director of the center regarding the major challenges the center is facing. I easily found some of the ones before he brought them up. The first, they lack beds and mattresses for the building where the sick are treated. One of the beds is used for the guard and has a hay mattress on it. He mentioned that he did not want the lab in the center of the health center. It constantly smells of urine/stool samples and is un-sanitary for the patients. There is a building outside that contains 6 unused latrines and he wants to move the lab there. I think it’s a great idea, the idea that I did not like was when he requested a giant big screen TV in the waiting room to “teach” the patients on AIDS/HIV. The last thing this health center needs is a giant TV, especially considering the fact that the power goes out all the time and it would be a waste. They do however need a generator for their fridge where their vaccines are stored. I’m brainstorming right now on how we can get these projects started.

Projects with organized groups

            Here a GIC is a government approved group. I am currently working with two GICs. The first GIC is one that I’m working with Claire on. Claire started helping this GIC about a year ago and now they are doing pretty well. She has been teaching them how to save money at about 200francs a week. The first cycle is done and 20 of these women have decided to invest their savings in a fridge. Claire is teaching them how to make yoghurt and we’ve decided to store the fridge (when we buy it) in my community host’s (Mustapha’s) pharmacy. They’ll sell the yoghurt in Meidougou and advertise it as a health drink. I will be flying solo with this GIC on Tuesday because Claire is leaving to Yaoundé this weekend. I’m pretty excited about having a place to buy yoghurt in Meidougou, this region is known for its yoghurt.

            Another GIC I’m working with is one that I found myself. Well, actually they found me. The name of this GIC is called De Tamo and in Baya this means a happy place. They are an agricultural GIC and I actually think the president of this GIC is pretty smart. He has about 30 hectares of land and with it has a successful garden. He plants a lot of piment (spicy peppers) and sells them in crates in the Extreme North where he gets a great profit. He has also planted all sorts of trees that are rare in this region. He knows that this will yield great profits b/c prices for rare fruits here are high. From what I’ve seen so far, he is one of the few farmers that are doing this. My work with this GIC has gotten way more exciting starting today. My dad reminded me the other day that it is important to get local research done at a university’s library. Today I ended up going to the University of Ngaoundere. I initially went to go check for reports on the soil of the Adamawa region. It turns out the library closed 15 minutes before me and Francois arrived (Francois is a Cameroonian friend of mine that I met during training, he was actually a French teacher). Francois took me to one of the professor’s office where we ended up getting several phone numbers and names of other professors to talk with. We finally met with a professor who informed me that no such research exists but would love to work with me to have them written! She is going to talk with her department and students for interested individuals. We have a meeting this Monday regarding this potential collaboration. She wants to use GIC De Tamo’s land for research and send two students to Meidougou. Now I’m in the process of finding money for their bus tickets and arranging anything else the students might need. We’ll see where this goes!

            I have had some side projects that have seriously helped me get to know my village. I have participated in two mosquito net campaigns where we traveled to several houses in Meidougou and installed nets for pregnant women and children under five. I am helping my land lord start a fruit grove with his land. I have also had meetings with other GICs, I’m being very selective about who I work with. This was deeply engraved into my head during training. I’ve also decided to by a GPS Mapping system to help the farmers calculate the size of their land; I’m also going to make my own map of Meidougou and give it to the chief and any other interested villagers.

Teaching at the Secondary school

             I now teach English to the Troiseme class (the equivelant of 9-10 grade) at the secondary school of Meidougou. I only teach that one class, four days a week, each day only working one hour. The kids are great (so far) and I’ve been having fun. I am grading the homework later. Anyways this school is also inevitably going through its challenges. It has no money and the director is working on getting a bathroom for the faculty. They have a building that is not done being constructed. I have been thinking about raising the money to finish these two classrooms but an even greater idea popped into my head! There is a perfect spot in this school for an amphitheatre. There is a platform where they could have it constructed. I am currently discussing the idea with the director, a few interested students and eventually with the chief of Meidougou (if there is enough interest). Emma, Claire and I could teach the play and eventually we can do animations that teach the community on AIDS, Malaria, sanitation etc on this amphitheatre! We’ll see where this idea leads.

That’s pretty much the extent of my work and play. My house is coming along, my living room is for the most part done. The day I received my coffee table was an amazing day. I’m posting pictures on my next post. Hopefully from the internet of my home!

Peace Corps out,

Carlitos

And I start to complain that theres no rain

So you know how after a blizzard the naked trees are left with a beautiful coat of powdery snow on top of their branches? It is truly a wonderful scene isn't it? Yeah, well its not the same with sand. The Adamawa is currently in its dry season. This means a few things, most of them not good. Where do I start?

The very arid air allows the sand to lift easily with even a footstep. A gust of air will direct the dust absolutely anywhere it pleases. It is even worse when none of the roads are paved and the trucks and motorcycles catapult all of the sand into the air. The entire village inevitably turns into a a red shaken snow-globe. All of the plants near the roads are covered in red sand. Everything you wear gets dirty and you can only imagine what this does to your throat and lungs. Actually you don't have to imagine, let me explain it to you. The already dry atmosphere ensures that your throat is almost always dry, well it is even more fun when it has a coat of dust around it too. My house used to be painted half white and half blue, now it is purple and red. Needless to say, I can't wait for the wet season. I regress though, it was even worse in Niger.

Let me change the tone a bit.

I am now moved into my new home! I am no where near being done. My stove is currently on the floor, I have three empty rooms and the only piece of furniture I have is my bed. I do have modern toilets though! Too bad the water doesn't work. Its cool though b/c there is a faucet right inside my concession (concession means compound). It is only about 10 feet from my front door. I share my concession with about three other families. I still haven't figured out who is related to whom. I can tell you though that there are about 12 children and I share the building (not house) with 5 of the boys. One is sixteen and the rest are between 9 and twelve. They don't know their ages either. There are 2 middle-aged women and one elderly, neither speak French. I have the boys translate for me. They are also teaching me Fufulde. I am a fan of the boys, not the toddlers though!

Holy eff the toddlers are a hand full.

In the last week I had to stop little Sarifa, Sadia, and Oumarou from eating the plastic wrappers from the candy I gave them, not lick my soap, put down the knives from my kitchen, not play with everything (and I really mean everything), prevented them from crayoning my walls and reminded them constantly to stop leaving their shoes in my house. Seriously, send me some tranquilizers.

In terms of work, I haven't started anything serious yet. And to be honest, Peace Corps told me not to start anything big until after my first three months so I'm going to stay chillaxed. I have however met with the Chef of my village (as well as his sons), started going to my health center and began work with some organized groups in Meidougou. Nothing too crazy. Not yet at least.

I am not in Meidougou right now though, I am currently in Ngaoundere (hence, my ability to update this blog). I'm here for some banking and getting some supplies for our Christmas celebration. The national Olympics are currently taking place right here! I actually just got back from a soccer game where I went to go cheer for my region, it was Adamawa vs. the North. We tied, but it pretty fun. I will say this, and excuse my French, fuck vuvuzelas. Like Caleb said, I now understand why they were almost banned during the World Cup.

My first night in my house I discovered that I have roughly around 100, maybe even 500 (probably more) spiders the size of iPods nested in my ceiling. Luckily Claire told me that after spending some time in my house they will slowly get scared off. I certainly hope so b/c I'm positive that they are capable of reproducing faster than the rate of which I kill them.

So I thought I was going to be able to post some pictures for this entry. Unfortunately you're going to have to wait for the next. Trust me, it'll be worth it. In the mean time, Peace Corps out people.

Carlos

There are many things that I would like to say to you

December 4, 2010


Day... what day am I in. Lets see I got sworn in on the 1st of December so 4, Day 4 of being an official Volunteer. So far so good. Training is finally over, I haven't gotten any severe maladies yet (knock on wood), I'm meeting the Peace Corp Volunteers that are leaving back to The States (and asking many questions), the train ride to Ngaoundere was boss (apparently a word that Californians use for 'cool' b/c saying 'cool' is uncool) and my shopping for my post is done (in terms of what I should get here). I leave tomorrow for my post. Meidougou! is the name of my new home for the next two years. Google it, its a boss village.

I don't really remember why I waited until I got sworn in to start this blog because honestly, I've been through so much that is worth writing about so far that I have a lot of catching up to do. This entry though will just be an introductory one though. No adventures, just a brief introduction of who I am, what I'm doing and maybe if I don't get lazy, an explanation of why I named my blog: The Wait of my Words.

My name is Carlos Jesus Fernandez-Torres. I am a new Peace Corps Volunteer in Cameramaroon and my program is Community Health. My responsibilities as a Health Volunteer require a long explanation so hopefully all the entries that I'll write will give a better explanation of what I do. I would normally give you my spiel but I'm tired of repeating it, plus its more boss if you just read about what I'm about to do. I am opening a new post in the Cameramaroonian region of Adamawa. My village's name is Meidougou and I love it b/c it rhymes with one of my favorite African cities, Ouagadougou. I'm 23 and I graduated from Michigan State University (Go Green) with a bachelor of arts in International Relations. This is not me in a nutshell, I cannot fit in a nutshell.

I am in Cameroon right now for many many reasons. I am looking for work experience. Isis (my older sis) sat me down one night and asked me, "what do you want?" I said a sandwich. I didn't really say sandwich. She did however make me realize that a job or an internship was the wrong answer to that question. The correct answer was and remains: Experience! I am here for work experience. But further more, I am here to travel. I am here to learn what it is I want to study in grad school. I am here to meet interesting people. I am here to return to the land where I spent about half of my life. I am here to connect with the Africans in a way that I wasn't able to as a child that was raised in Africa. I am here to learn French (and now Fufulde). I am here to spread peace in a peaceful manner. I am here to listen to Cameroonian music and shoot the shit what my new Cameroonian friends (Dad, 'shooting the shit' means hanging out with your friends). I am here to push my limits and finding direction to what I'm supposed to do. I am here to increase my patience. I am here to learn what 'grass roots development' truly means. I am here to learn about myself. And finally, I am here to eat mangoes.


This blog is really for the interested. However I'm writing this mainly for my family and close friends. Its my way of updating you guys on the good stories and my discoveries. It is my way of staying modern in modern times. And guess what, I'm too lazy to explain the title of my blog so perhaps another time. I hope you guys will continue reading b/c I can say that even when I don't have something to say, I can pull out one of my crazy experiences that I had during training. Peace (Corps) out people.

Carlitos