tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56180424521374209032024-03-13T11:55:30.855-07:00PCV SVTThis blog is to chronicle my time as a Peace Corps Volunteer in West Africa. All of the views and opinions expressed on this blog are mine and do not reflect those of the the Peace Corps or the U.S. government.Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-61356927738083081982011-02-20T21:05:00.000-08:002011-02-20T21:11:42.449-08:00Éloge de Ma Ville Natale<p class="MsoNormal">In Praise of My <st1:place><st1:placetype>Home</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Town</st1:placetype></st1:place><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’ve had an ambivalent relationship with <st1:place><st1:placetype>Home</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Town</st1:placetype></st1:place> over the years. As a child and teenager, it felt close-minded and stifling. During college, a quick weekend at home was enough to recharge but not long enough to become bored. I’ve grown less judgmental with maturity and can now enjoy a walk down memory lane without lingering in the thistle patches.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Last week, <i>Maman</i> and I went to see a South African choral group at the renovated<span class="Apple-style-span" > <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><i>théâtre</i> d</span>owntown</span>.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We were able to walk to the theater from free, safe, well-lit parking. Many families had dined at the nicest Italian restaurant in town, just across the street from the venue. Before the show, the theater’s director took a moment to thank all of the collaborators including local businesses and other arts organizations such as the Community Theater. The performance was wonderful, but the real beauty lies in the greater infrastructure. This show was just one of many billed for the season for the renovated theater, which coordinated its schedule so as to complement those of the local high school drama productions, symphony concerts and art center programs. While this event was on the more expensive side, there are many free or low cost (<$10) programs available to people of every age in the community. There are extension classes (ceramics, ballroom dancing, Spanish), poetry readings, and a river festival which attracts local artists and performers.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Perhaps a more community-minded person would have noticed this earlier, but as a natural introvert I participated in many programs due to availability. <i>Tout ça </i>(all that) seemed <i>de rigeur</i> as an angsty adolescent, until the day I visited some friends who live in the suburbs of Urban Metropolis. I asked where the local theaters, museums and cinemas were and they pointed me downtown (at least a 30 minute drive). Due to the community’s affluent nature, the local government didn’t fund many summer programs as most kids took private music/swimming/ACT/underwater basketweaving lessons. A large and vibrant artistic community exists in Urban Metropolis, but it is located far away from where most people (of all socioeconomic classes) live and work.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m grateful to have grown up in a place with a strong sense of community and hope that these programs survive the coming state budget cuts. Private donors can, have and will fill the gaps but there’s something powerful about a proclaiming the arts a public good. Not a <i>passe-temps</i> for the elite, but open so that all may find the beauty and creativity in and around themselves. During a session on development, PC staffers talked to us about listening to our communities and how some might want to build a recreation area more than renovate the health center. Host Country has a long history of artistic production, particularly in film. I’ve particularly enjoyed reading about how Volunteers use computers, crayons, paintbrushes and plays to give their communities tools of expression. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-91243139764611590682011-02-13T12:09:00.000-08:002011-02-13T12:17:17.783-08:00Il était une fois…<p class="MsoNormal">Sorry for the blog absence as of late. Things have been going well <i>chez moi</i> – I finished my last appointment with the <i>kinésithérapeute </i>(physical therapist) before the <i>rendez-vous</i> with the <i>orthopédiste</i> next month. Jury duty calls for later this month. While the world keeps turning, I’ve had several fairytale experiences in the past few weeks.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>Tout d’abord </i>(first of all), I saw a production of “Phantom of the Opera” at my old high school. I knew that the drama department was still strong, but how those kids could sing! Last May, I visited <i>l’Opéra Garnier</i> with my friend M before our flights home. Basking in the glow of the opulent fixtures and reveling in the watercolors of Chagall, Leroux’s story and Webber’s play finally came to life for me. My father picked up the film “Language of the Enemy” from Redbox before reading any reviews. (SPOILERS) It starts off as an intense meditation on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict before becoming an international romantic comedy version of Romeo and Juliet. Maturity has made me more generous with respect to films and I appreciated many of the small details: the décors, the anecdotes of past generations. I could not, however, bear the silly sociolinguistics of the film. The protagonists speak to each other in Arabic for a few minutes, but spend the rest of the film speaking to Israeli and Palestinian characters in English. Oh well, I should just rent “Carlos” and read subtitles for dialogue (10 languages)!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Last week, my parents and I braved the icy roads to journey to <st1:place><st1:placetype>College</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Town</st1:placetype></st1:place>. They went shopping while I spoke to former professors about My Future PlansTM and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWTF7fOSJP4">Important GoalsTM</a> involving graduate school, a career <i>et le français</i>. The physical part hadn’t changed much – the five minute walk felt much longer, the computer stations were all full and the foreign language stacks still tempted me to <i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7Zp4xi9k-A">partir là-bas</a></i> (leave for there). I didn’t recognize a single student’s face, but was received with much warmth and advice. ThesisAdvisor asked about my past experiences and looked over my future dossier for graduate schools. MajorAdvisor reminisced about his own travels in <st1:country-region><st1:place>France</st1:place></st1:country-region> and wanted to know how the assistantship program was doing. TripAdvisor, who guides at least 40 students a day, spoke in a quick clip about others who had chosen my <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ToyvaJhoQeo">potential paths</a>. SocialAdvisor helped me refashion my ideas such that new portals of progress opened before my eyes. College wasn’t a wonderland for me, but it was nice to return to a place of strength and comfort and to receive wisdom from those who had gone before me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This is why I value education so much. I had wonderful high school teachers, but I saw them as imposing knowledge on me. My professors, <i>par contre </i>(by contrast), see themselves as intellectual <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LM5pirzFqeY">guides</a> and have given me the tools and confidence to follow my own dreams. Hopefully one day, some students will say the same about me.</p>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-91197390001670712842011-01-31T21:49:00.000-08:002011-01-31T21:52:50.237-08:00Les Bonnes Réponses (The Correct Answers)<p class="MsoNormal"><i>En fin de compte</i> (as it turns out), I learned some interesting facts myself while searching for the answers to this quiz. I still remember sitting through eighth-grade state history, yearning to hear about a different place. <i>Mes voyages</i> have made me reconsider some aspects of American history, such as different forms of diversity in each time period. Furthermore, I have come to appreciate the importance of local history after visiting many small-town museums and cultural centers. Hope February is off to a great start for everyone!</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman""><span style="mso-list:Ignore">1)<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span><span dir="LTR">Sante Fe, Oregon, Chisolm, Coronado, Smoky Hills, Leavenworth<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Pikes Peak, Ft. Scott – Ft. Leavenworth Military, Atchison Lewis and Clark, Pony Express [source: Kansas History postcard series]. We were “drive-through” long before “fly-over” was even a term.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span dir="LTR"></span><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman""><span style="mso-list:Ignore">2)<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span><span dir="LTR">From the Kaw people, formerly known as the Kansa, the Kanza and sometimes called “People of the (South) Wind” or “People of the Water” [www.kawnation.com/Culture/culthist.html, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaw_Nation">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaw_Nation</a>]</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span dir="LTR"></span><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman""><span style="mso-list:Ignore">3)<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span><span dir="LTR">Raids by the Border Ruffians from </span><st1:state><st1:place>Missouri</st1:place></st1:state>, led by William Quantrill. [<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bleeding_Kansas">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bleeding_Kansas</a>]</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman""><span style="mso-list:Ignore">4)<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span><span dir="LTR">Noted abolitionist John Brown [<a href="http://www.kansastravel.org/kansasstatecapitol.htm">http://www.kansastravel.org/kansasstatecapitol.htm</a>]</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span dir="LTR"></span><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:ES-TRAD"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">5)<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span><span dir="LTR"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-TRAD">Francisco Vásquez de Coronado [</span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francisco_V%C3%A1squez_de_Coronado"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-TRAD">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francisco_V%C3%A1squez_de_Coronado</span></a></span><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-TRAD">]</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="mso-ansi-language:ES-TRAD"></span><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman""><span style="mso-list:Ignore">6)<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span><span dir="LTR">“Ad Astra Per Aspera” – “To the stars through difficulties.” Ad Astra is also the name of the sculpture which sits atop the dome of the </span><st1:place><st1:placename>Kansas</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>State</st1:placetype> <st1:placename>Capitol</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Building</st1:placetype></st1:place> in <st1:city><st1:place>Topeka</st1:place></st1:city>. [<a href="http://www.kssos.org/resources/kansaskids_facts.html">http://www.kssos.org/resources/kansaskids_facts.html</a>]</p> <p class="MsoNormal">If you found other answers, let me know!</p>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-53920164163810401002011-01-28T17:07:00.000-08:002011-01-28T17:12:26.013-08:00Jour du KansasToday is Kansas’s sesquicentennial, marking 150 years of prairie pride. During <span style="font-style:italic;">mon enfance</span> (my childhood), I thought it was the lamest state since no one every bothered to talk about us. Then we got caught up in an evolutionary standards scandal – yeah! Attending one of the flagship universities gave me a) a better appreciation of the state’s diversity and b) the realization that you can’t change where you’re from, so <span style="font-style:italic;">il vaut mieux</span> (it’s better) to accept it.<br /><br />I always remember Kansas Day because in elementary school one of my classmates shared her birthday with the state. One of my good college friends was also <span style="font-style:italic;">chanceux</span> (fortunate) enough to be born on January 29th. Happy birthday L and P! We may be best known for tornados and their use as transport to magical lands, but there’s more to offer than that. Take the quiz below to find out! (Answers will appear on Monday).<br /><br />1) Name at least five historic trails of Kansas.<br />2) Where does the name “Kansas” come from?<br />3) Which events in the 1850s gave rise to the name “Bleeding Kansas”?<br />4) Name the historical figure depicted in the large mural in the Capitol building.<br />5) Which explorer was said to have reached Kansas in 1541? HomeTown is located a few miles away from a “fort” marking his furthest point of exploration. I thought he had really camped there hundreds of years ago. Turns out it was a WPA project, which explained the absence of historical markers and the presence of cigarette butts and beer bottles.<br />6) What is the state motto? It was the second Latin phrase I learned, after “E pluribus unum.”Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-89078932383037825022011-01-23T15:58:00.000-08:002011-01-23T16:01:01.975-08:00Swimming, Ballet and Other InadequaciesUpon the recommendation of my <span style="font-style:italic;">kinésithérapeute </span>(physical therapist), I have taken up swimming at my local branch of the YMCA. I haven’t swum since the Fourth of July party in Host Country, but it’s coming back to me. And I don’t even have to wear a swimsuit bought from a vending machine like last spring in France!<br /><br />The lap pool adjoins a family pool area filled with brightly colored slides and strangely shaped devices. Though the sounds can be a bit annoying, this arrangement does lessen the clinical appearance associated with white, sterile, harshly lit and badly smelling <span style="font-style:italic;">piscines</span>. Moreover, I’m free to glide along, wearing my <span style="font-style:italic;">lunettes de plongée</span> (goggles), secure in the knowledge that the other adults won’t randomly cross under the lane markers as I used to do during Pollywog swim classes. <br /><br />I prefer to lap swim poorly rather than tread water or accomplish acrobatic feats. The basic strokes (front crawl, backstroke, breastroke – <span style="font-style:italic;">le crawl, le dos, la brasse</span>) are easy enough conceptually, but I usually manage to falter at least once in the middle of a lap. Part of this is due to my elbow injury and part is due to natural clumsiness. Hand-eye coordination and reaction times were never my best subjects. Consequently, I rarely felt guilt about my lack of physical prowess and reserved my <span style="font-style:italic;">névroses </span>(neuroses) for more academic pursuits. <br /><br />My thoughts turned to this lack of agility while watching the film “Black Swan” with my mother this week. It was certainly <span style="font-style:italic;">un film percutan</span>t (a powerful film), though not one I came away “liking” by any means. In her quest for perfection, Nina (Natalie Portman) descends into paranoia. Her slight physical frame withstood the pain of hours of rehearsal while her mind fluttered like a stray feather caught in the wind. Later, as I tried to force my limbs to gracefully bend and bow to my will, I decided to accept the fact that I look like a drowning duck rather than a gracefully disturbed swan.Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-13530067272869750022011-01-20T12:18:00.000-08:002011-01-20T12:20:06.713-08:00Working the SystemYesterday, I had to get some <em>empreintes digitales </em>(fingerprints) taken for a background check required by Home State for a substitute teaching license. After having lived in France and worked my way through the Peace Corps application, I felt well prepared to deal with bureaucracy. Perhaps not with the nature of bureaucracy, but rather with my usual errors such as not double-checking instructions or trying to cram errands into a one hour time span.<br /><br />I went to the County Sheriff’s Office, where the pleasant receptionist informed me that fingerprinting was now done at the jail. While driving around the block to the Visitor’s Entrance, I remember my only other time at the jail. I was in fifth grade and we went on a field trip for Boy Scouts, all wearing our uniforms. A nice police officer led us on a tour and we all gawked at the high-tech <em>surveillance électronique</em>. This time, I was surprised to see a money transfer machine to the right of the reception window. Several different options scrolled across the screen in English and Spanish. I took a number and sat down amongst several families who had been waiting for visitation. <br /><br />My number was quickly called and I met <em>La Dactylo-Technicienne</em> (the Fingerprinter) in her office, who knew the requirements for teaching and nursing licenses. I wrote out several checks, then let her press my fingers on a giant roll of ink which she spun around before each print. A dispenser offered up an abrasive soap-like substance which cleaned my hands well enough so that I could assemble the paperwork. All the paperwork, except for the transcripts that is. I thought that I could mail the package out myself, <em>mais non</em>, I had to hand everything over to her office.<br /><br />In the past, I would have become <em>très fâché</em> at these inconveniences and surrendered. Instead, I calmly collected myself and walked out to the car. Part of this new attitude is being accustomed to several steps in processes, part is realizing that this would not be a hard problem in my Home Town where I knew all the locations and spoke and the language, and part is having matured into a more patient person. I will never be as patient as Host Country citizens who can stand in line for hours, but compared to BurkinaSciSteven circa 2007, I’ve made vast improvement. No words muttered under my breath, no reckless driving on the winter roads, just calm determination. <br /><br />Twelve minutes later, I stepped out of the car (carefully, to avoid the ice patches) and went inside to hunt for the transcripts. They were sitting on top of my dresser, but I couldn’t find stamps anywhere. A quick call to my mother confirmed that we were out. Glancing at the clock, I sped off to the post office, bought the stamps and raced over to the jail before noon. I waited awkwardly for several minutes, worried that I’d missed my window of opportunity, before a guard called <em>La Dactylo-Technicienne</em>. She signed the fingerprint card and promised to drop the package in the mail that afternoon. Mission accomplished, just in time to enjoy a nice lunch and a session with the brace.Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-56673610991946875162011-01-09T17:12:00.000-08:002011-01-09T17:14:26.197-08:00Meals and Movies<span style="font-style:italic;">Désolé</span> for the long blog absence, <span style="font-style:italic;">mes amis</span>. I enjoyed a wonderful holiday season with my family. Everyone took part in the annual cookie-decorating ritual and much fun was had by all. For New Year’s Eve, I snagged a spot on the commuter airline that goes from Home Town to Midwestern Metropolis. My <span style="font-style:italic;">généreux</span> friend R put me up for a few days and I remembered how exciting it was to interact with other twentysomethings. One challenge of this recovery has been the socialization process from “development worker” to “full-time patient.” This trip reminded me of other past identities (biology TA, creative writer, etc) and made me feel more confident about the next steps in my life. <br /><br />Adventures in eating included chocolate-chip pancakes, scrambled eggs, pad Thai and a delicious chicken stir-fry prepared by R’s wonderful parents. For movies, we watched the delightful “Despicable Me,” the artistic “I Am Love” and the hilariously historical “Tristan and Isolde.” Upon arriving in Home Town, I watched “The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest” with my father at our local arts cinema. I loved reading the Stieg Larsson novels and thought that the film adaptation was quite faithful to the themes of the books if not the intricate details and subplots. <br /><br />Recovery is going well, but there are still a few benchmarks I need to hit before medical clearance. I’ll be <span style="font-style:italic;">chez moi</span> for a few more weeks. I’ve been revising my senior thesis into <span style="font-style:italic;">une sorte de</span> writing sample for graduate school applications and will hopefully start substitute teaching in the next few days. Hope that 2011 is off to a great start for you and yours!Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-20176165643778459522010-12-25T15:19:00.000-08:002010-12-25T15:20:59.247-08:00Joyeux Noël!Merry Christmas to all of you, wherever you are in the world. May my friends in Host Country and other PCVs remain safe and in good spirits this holiday season. May all travelers have safe passage and may everyone show kindness and goodwill towards others. Hope all is well <span style="font-style:italic;">chez vous</span>!Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-10179299446150737552010-12-17T13:46:00.000-08:002010-12-17T13:53:28.803-08:00Holiday Preparations<span style="font-style:italic;">Mon amie l’attelle </span>(My friend the brace) and I have been making good progress – two more degrees this week and just a few more to go before I’ll be medically fit to resume service.<span style="font-style:italic;"> Comme</span> (since/as) my next doctor’s appointment is in early 2011, I’ll be making a trek to Urban Metropolis over the holidays to visit some friends. During my convalescence, they’ve been hard at work in medical school and I’m excited to see them before leaving again for a few years. At first I was shocked that they didn’t have much time to chat during my brief <span style="font-style:italic;">séjour</span> (stay). But in talking to them, I realized how enthusiastic they were about <strike>all most</strike> some of the things they were studying and how ready I am to continue with the next step of my career. Furthermore, this <span style="font-style:italic;">prise de conscience</span> (realization) confronted me while buying coffee filters at Target for $0.87. <span style="font-style:italic;">Pourquoi</span>? I thought about getting two packages, but realized that I probably was not going to be around for 200 pots of coffee. Finally, I’ve enjoyed reading blog posts and looking at pictures posted by my stagemates who just finished a training week. I’ll be seeing them sooner rather than later to experience some fruitful<span style="font-style:italic;"> aventures</span> of my own, which will make for far more interesting blog fare than ramblings about medical appointments and reflections on my identity and holiday habits.Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-83444590109857670992010-12-13T17:50:00.000-08:002010-12-13T17:54:28.745-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W1mCGnwTuJY/TQbN0twJeXI/AAAAAAAAA-U/ETkb8RO41f8/s1600/brace%2Bpicture.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_W1mCGnwTuJY/TQbN0twJeXI/AAAAAAAAA-U/ETkb8RO41f8/s320/brace%2Bpicture.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550349896299149682" /></a><br /><br /><br />This <span style="font-style:italic;">attelle</span> has been my constant companion for the last few weeks. We have thrice daily half-hour <span style="font-style:italic;">rendez-vous</span>, which have made the biweekly physical therapy appointments far more bearable. I use a white knob to adjust it to a pain level of 3 on a scale 1-10 and adjust the setting <span style="font-style:italic;">toutes les cinq minutes</span> (every five minutes). I use the brace to work on extension but as an unexpected <span style="font-style:italic;">effet secondaire</span>, my flexion has also improved by several degrees. This <span style="font-style:italic;">régime</span> is a lot easier than the gravity approach which the adhesions in my arm valiantly resisted. Though I’m grateful for the aide, I won’t be sorry to send it back soon! <br /><br />West African moment <span style="font-style:italic;">chez moi</span>: Last night, I put my glass of wine down for one minute to grab something from the kitchen. I had learned in Host Country the importance of always keeping one’s beverage covered to protect it from flies. Hélas, last night I had to pour out half a glass of Cabernet-Sauvignon due to an intruder. At least it was <span style="font-style:italic;"> à portée de main</span> (within easy reach)and not the last bottle in the village!Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-66576986536546586572010-12-02T15:48:00.000-08:002010-12-02T15:52:47.425-08:00Mysteries Solved!Yesterday, I had another appointment <span style="font-style:italic;">chez l’orthopédiste</span>. I have a follow-up appointment in very early January and will start working with Peace Corps Headquarters on the reinstatement process. Fingers crossed!<br /><br />One theme of the past week has been realizing that <br />- I learned from a <span style="font-style:italic;">bande-annonce</span> (movie trailer) that the Narnia title “Voyage of the Dawn Treader” is pronounced like the verb “to tread,” as in the famous <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gadsden_flag">Gadsen Flag</a> slogan “Don’t Tread On Me!” For some reason, I always thought it was pronounced “treeder.” <br />- I read an article about couches. In French, the noun <span style="font-style:italic;">couche</span>, can mean many different things depending on the context - layer, bed, covering. Dear readers, I kept waiting for the reference to layers before realizing that the authors meant “sofas”.<br />- A song that I was listening to included the word <span style="font-style:italic;">tilleul</span>. Heading over to my trust WordReference, I discovered that <span style="font-style:italic;">un tilleul</span> is a lime tree. I honestly can never remember having ever thought or talked about lime trees in my life. Curioser and curioser, the song mentioned <span style="font-style:italic;">falbala</span>, which translates to “furbelow.” According to Dictionary.com, a furbelow is a ruffle, flounce or other ornament on a woman’s skirt and entered the English language via, you guessed it, early modern French. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Que vous aussi trouviez la solution d’un mystère!</span> (May you also solve a mystery !)Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-1942422973753643952010-11-28T21:08:00.000-08:002010-11-28T21:11:57.736-08:00Bii-RiblaThe title of this post means “boy” in my Local Language and describes how I’ve been feeling these past few weeks. Part of this sentiment comes from reminiscing about my own mostly happy childhood as <span style="font-style:italic;">ma famille</span> gathered around the Thanksgiving table. We shared stories about growing up, proving that we each privilege different experiences depending on our circumstances and our states of mind. « <a href="http://www.france-memoires.com/Citations-french">Les souvenirs perdent leur reste de fraîcheur si on les évoque parmi la foule. La mémoire ne peut être qu’un exercice solitaire</a> » [Memories lose their remains of freshness if one evokes them among a crowd. Memory can only be a solitary exercise.] Furthermore, I’ve had quite a bit of undirected creative time with which to read books and articles, write poems and short fiction, watch TV shows and films. Let’s not forget Christmas music! December was always a mad dash to vacation, made bearable by warm treats and anticipation. <br /><br />Childlike freedom, however, can also lead to notions of <span style="font-style:italic;">impuissance </span>(helplessness). Especially during this hectic holiday time, when everyone tries to cram in shopping amidst end of school and calendar year activities, it just feels <span style="font-style:italic;">malséant </span>(unseemly) to rest on one’s laurels. I do my exercises three times a day, but there really isn’t much else I can do to speed up my recovery process. Where once I neatly fit into family and social networks, sometimes I feel <span style="font-style:italic;">maladroit </span>(awkward) when making decisions. I will be leaving<span style="font-style:italic;"> nindaare</span> (one of these days), but I make contingency plans until then. Today’s Advent reading centered upon the idea of anticipation. “So too, you also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come” (Mt 24:37-44). During his homily, the priest differentiated between tense expectation, such as when awaiting a relative and being receptive in a <span style="font-style:italic;">qué sera, sera </span>mode. My goal for the week is to focus on the latter interpretation. Thankfully, I’ll have more news later this week after several appointments – the holiday rush stops for no one!Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-48352241774683656922010-11-24T11:09:00.000-08:002010-11-24T11:11:36.659-08:00Random Reflections- I went to see the Radio City Rockettes with my family last weekend. It was quite enjoyable and festive, though I could have done without the harem dancing mice. Still, it was nice to see so many multigenerational families gathered together to celebrate the holidays.<br /><br />- Holiday shopping is upon us! I prefer the JCPenny’s model at our local mall (customer service kiosks distributed throughout the store) to the Dillard’s model (cash registers nestled within the departments, staffed with very friendly clerks who hail all passersby). Perhaps my friendly conversational side takes over when I’m broke, lost and alone (<a href="http://burkinascisteven.blogspot.com/2010/11/community.html">see this post</a>). <br /><br />- One of my favorite attractions at the mall is the large indoor aquarium. Not only is it stocked with fresh-caught fish, they always try to keep one albino catfish at all times. In recent years, management has added more lighting to improve visibility. It’s a very relaxing spot, though the adjoining play area does not add to <span style="font-style:italic;">l’ambiance tranquille</span>.<br /><br />- Physical therapy is going well. I have an appointment next week <span style="font-style:italic;">chez l’orthopédiste</span>, who will give me a realistic timeline about return dates. The brace has done wonders for my range of motion and lifting those heavy bags of Thanksgiving fixings and holiday gifts isn’t quite as burdensome as it once seemed.<br /><br />- Happy Thanksgiving to all! May you be surrounded by loved ones and full of good cheer and delicious food.Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-49492504411155052912010-11-20T10:09:00.000-08:002010-11-20T10:16:05.995-08:00Je Veux Qu'Il Revienne (I Want Him to Come Back): Memory Edition*<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmwCAwaLSmc">Title Song</a><br /><br />Just a little further, almost there [other inspirational phrases like “I think I can” and “It’s the CLIIIIIMB!!!”] and…oomph! Thankfully, my physical therapy regimen has switched to gentler, longer stretches which have produced amazing results (2 extra cm of motion yesterday). No, that first phrase describes the Sisyphean agony of recall from long-term memory.<br /><br />While in college, I enjoyed exploring foreign languages and science simultaneously. It felt nice to give my brain a break from studying pages of Organic Chemistry reactions to work on some <span style="font-style:italic;">création littéraire</span>. Conversely, I enjoyed explaining the lac operon to students after a night of fitfully tussling with the gender/number accord of past participles followed by infinitives. Yes, the French language really is that <span style="font-style:italic;">pointilleuse </span>(fastidious with shades of anal-retentive). <br /><br />After my sojourn is this all-you-can-eat buffet of academia, I went on a foreign language binge for a year in Europe. <span style="font-style:italic;">J’ai parfait </span>(I perfected) my French, built up my Spanish and learned some conversational German (<span style="font-style:italic;">Ich möchte ein Bier!</span>). I then moved to West Africa with the Peace Corps and was asked to combine my previously disparate sets of knowledge into one harmonious presentation. The French came easily – dredging up the scientific details from the recesses of my long-term memory was far more difficult. As an exercise while home on break, I pulled out some notes from Organic Chemistry and Mammalian Physiology and was astounded that at one point I was capable of doing that work. <span style="font-style:italic;">Heureusement</span>, I’ll be teaching middle school but it’s still nice to have a better idea of context that one’s students. <br /><br />Now that I’m back in AmericaLand, I’m trying hard to maintain my language skills. Popular songs, conversations with friends, Facebook updates, newspaper articles and books all play <span style="font-style:italic;">un rôle important</span> in this endeavor. I can still get caught up on little things – verbs that take different objects in English, using pronouns to the fullest extent. Finding materials for my local language, <span style="font-style:italic;">par contre</span>, has proven far more challenging. Little written material exists and since most of Host Country is not on the Web, there aren’t a lot of sound files either. I’ve been reviewing my language notebooks but that a) becomes intensely boring after awhile and b) only does so much to jog my memory.<br /><br />Local Language is certainly not boring. It’s a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tonal_language">tonal language </a> which deletes verb endings before direct objects. <span style="font-style:italic;">Par exemple</span>, “<span style="font-style:italic;">Maam yũudame</span>” (“I drink”) becomes “<span style="font-style:italic;">Maam yũuda bisap</span>” (I drink bissap juice). It’s also heavy on the y’s, such as in the phrase for “Where are you from?” “<span style="font-style:italic;">Yamb yita yɛ</span>?” The consonants d and r are interchangeable at the beginning of the word. “Market” can be translated as “<span style="font-style:italic;">raaga</span>” or “<span style="font-style:italic;">daaga</span>” depending on the speaker’s home region and dialect. My language classmates and I used to exploit this property while reciting the “Buying things at market” dialogue for the fiftieth time. It paid off though, as I’ll be able to purchase virtually anything upon returning. I say virtually because off course I’ll head to my site and discover that we make some as-to-unheard-of wonder. <br /><br />Remembering some of my favorite experiences from Host Country is becoming easier every day, as more and more of my stagemates download photos to Facebook. Most of the literature for future PCVs talks about the challenges you’ll face upon arriving and how the heat/bugs/food will matter less than connections. With a bit of distance from Host Country, my sensory memory recalls the sensations of sweat covering my clothes, of . But my <span style="font-style:italic;">souvenirs</span> of great conversations with friends and getting to know people who led very different lives from myself hearken to me from afar, singing like humpback whales from the watery depths of <span style="font-style:italic;">ma vie jusqu’à présent </span>(my life until now). <br /><br />*Courtesy of Françoise Hardy, <span style="font-style:italic;">chanteuse extraordinare</span> of the 1960s. This song talks about wanting a lost love back, even though you've suffered enough. Not the healthiest sentiment to have, but a very human one.Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-38657585860673438182010-11-15T12:53:00.000-08:002010-11-15T12:56:42.580-08:00Linearity II<span style="font-weight:bold;">Body Lines</span><br />Good news! Using the brace has helped my arm to reach its greatest extension yet. Bonus: working on extension has also lead to gains in flexion. I’m amazed at how far my arm has progressed since August, but am <span style="font-style:italic;">très enthousiaste</span> about maintaining this rate. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Timelines</span><br />In my last post, I pondered the seemingly convoluted evolution of my academic interests and career paths. Today I wanted to zoom in on a section of my lifeline and reflect on how this little incident interrupted my supposedly linear Peace Corps experience. Our medical team and administration in Host Country stressed the cyclical nature of the experience (emotional highs and lows, periods of frenetic energy and others of dormant torpor) and that each Volunteer’s experience was unique. Stuck in my competitive goal-setting ways (the dangers of inspirational posters!), I thought <span style="font-style:italic;">quand même</span> that I had a pretty good idea of how my time would go. Secondary Education seems to have a pretty defined rhythm which corresponds to <span style="font-style:italic;">l’année scolaire</span> (the school year). <br /><br />Coming back from site visit, I was blown away by how different everyone’s living and working situation would be. Some were matched with eager counterparts who offered opportunities <span style="font-style:italic;">à gogo</span>, while others would have to do some more digging to find out what the community wanted and how they as Volunteers could help. While recovering in Unbloggable Events LandTM, I spoke with other Volunteers who suggested <span style="font-style:italic;">mille et une</span> variations on how to “make it your own” - working with your site to develop children’s camps, improve healthcare facilities, nurture nascent small enterprises. <br /><br />I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a bit apprehensive as to how I’ll fit in since I’m off the <span style="font-style:italic;">calendrier normal</span>. <span style="font-style:italic;">Heureusement</span>, everyone has been very supportive and this little detour will just add some more spice to my future stories.Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-32883220215248218012010-11-13T16:24:00.000-08:002010-11-13T16:27:47.647-08:00LinearityOctober was a rough month for most of my friends in law and medical school. Each suffered a unique case of system overload, but the frantic messages promising communication later and complaints of 16 hour days. Still, they were all glad to have satisfied another requirement to advance in their rather linear degree paths. <br /><br />I first heard the word “linear” in my 7th grade Pre-Algebra class. We were trying to figure out solutions to equations of the form “y=mx+b.” Never a big fan of math, I was surprised to see the concept again in my English courses as a way to describe narrative arcs. While my own life seems to be a random set of<span style="font-style:italic;"> méandres</span> (twists and turns), the end result is actually quite linear. <br /><br />When I first entered college, I was set on attending veterinary school immediately after undergraduate and stepping onto the fast track to personal and financial success. Then I took Mammalian Physiology. Lots of interesting information, much of which got drowned out due to sheer volume. That was the same semester that I decided to take Honors Organic Chemistry II, Contemporary African Art, Introduction to French Literature and a seminar about elephants. With the clarity of time, I now see that I had made my college major choice into <span style="font-style:italic;">une crise d'identité</span> and had decided to throw myself onto everything and see which held me afloat.<br /><br />After jumping off the pre-veterinary track, I decided to keep my position as an undergraduate teaching assistant in biology and added another job as a peer leader. Teaching was something new and different that gave me a) authority and b) instant feedback. It’s a lot easier to read a 19 year old’s glazed over eyes of boredom than a calm professional’s <span style="font-style:italic;">visage impassible</span> as she hands back your latest paper. Those gigs lead to my year in France as an English teaching assistant, which helped me to prepare for my eventual job in the Peace Corps which combines language/cultural expertise with technical knowledge. <br /><br />The sense of this evolution made sense to me while talking to friends and family who had suffered through my pre-test freakouts. Explaining it to most other people isn’t that hard, as they either see the scribbled lines of coherence or decide that I’m just out of my mind. One friend’s mother still believes that I’m a great con artist convincing government entities to shell out vast amounts of cash for exotic trips (<span style="font-style:italic;">coupable!</span>). <span style="font-style:italic;">Et pourtant</span> (and yet), some acquaintances and family members keep asking me, “What about your career? When are you going to figure out what to do with your life?”<br /><br />For awhile, I kept a hazy list of graduate programs running on my laptop and was fond of <span style="font-style:italic;">discourir de</span> my grand future plans. Thankfully, cultural adjustment doesn’t leave a lot of spare processing energy for non-immediate challenges so training was a break from this worry. Since returning to the US, I’ve had more time to think as I do my physical therapy stretches and procrastinate on finishing short stories. The list expanded in depth and breadth as I found more scholars whose “intellectual communities” I wanted to belong to. I was chatting with one friend who’s thriving in the medical school marathon about future anxieties. She reminded me that I’ve already made steps on the career path and that I’ll have graduate options available when and if I need them. <br /><br />Having grown up in the “gotta have more 90s,” I was used to making plans of success and modest fame far in advance. I have been known to make extensive spreadsheets detailing future courses, working hours and career plans. So the list is still there, but I’m not freaking out about it anymore. I’ll figure something out, even if I don’t feel called as if by a siren song streaming through a sea shell. In keeping up with other PCV’s blogs, I’m surprised at the range of projects my colleagues are undertaking and how they’re adjusting to radically different expectations. <span style="font-style:italic;">Mieux vaux plier que rompre</span> (better to bend than to break)!Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-90922999450435099722010-11-07T10:32:00.000-08:002010-11-07T10:36:26.790-08:00CommunityMy last post on the great holiday of temporary community, Halloween, started me thinking about individualism and communities in my own life. The great French classical philosopher Pascal said “<span style="font-style:italic;">Le moi est haissable</span>” (basically, “The ego is destable/obnoxious). I thought about this quote during my Sunday morning routine: reading the local newspaper, going to church with my family and eating brunch with my father at one of our favorite local restaurants. Shopping and church are the activities that I use most often to form my own communities.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />En feuilletant </span>(while browsing)the Christmas ads, my father reminisced about how my sister and I used to circle our desired objects when we were younger and more openly with our greed. But it went beyond the Target circular – the JCPenny’s Christmas catalogue was a tome to be reckoned with. Dolls, keyboards, computer games, soccer balls. I remember bundling up in my thick winter coat and going to the customer service desk at our local mall for late December pickups. Now that I’m a bit more <span style="font-style:italic;">raffiné</span> (refined) as well as connected to technology, shopping is one of the few experiences that forces me to leave the comfort of my own home and interact with the wider community. Last year in France, I got to know a few of the street vendors at the <span style="font-style:italic;">Marché de Noël </span>and was excited to see students and colleagues in a different setting. Markets in Host Country are intense affairs with complex negotiations and a strong reliance on social trust. Plus, FedEx Ground has yet to take off. <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">L’Église</span> fulfills my need for interaction in a different way. In a global sense, I feel connected to so many other Catholics around the world when I go to Sunday Mass. It gives me great comfort when abroad to know that my family in Kansas will recite many of the same prayers, struggle with the same problems and sing many of the same hymns as I do seven hours before them. On a local level, we also share <span style="font-style:italic;">la paix du Christ</span> with each other before taking Communion. Shaking the hand of a fellow human being creates an instant connection whose power is magnified when one feels adrift and alone. Watching the same faces process towards the altar each week to receive <span style="font-style:italic;">la hostie</span> creates a sense of familiarity.<br /><br />But these activities alone are not enough. As social critic Robert Putnam argues in “Bowling Alone,” Americans have become a more intensely individualistic nation over the past few decades. There are some definite benefits to focusing on the individual (self-satisfaction, empowerment, seeing nuances rather than groups) but disadvantages as well. Polite greetings and smiles of recognition are great but cannot take the place of genuine human caring and interaction. To <span style="font-style:italic;">saluer</span> someone properly in Host Country takes a few minutes of sustained conversation and contact. We are encouraged to get to know our neighbors on a deeper level than “Heya Bob, great weather, eh?” This has never been easy for me and as my friend Valerie writes at <a href="http://exitanytime.blogspot.com/2010/11/room-with-view.html">Exit Anytime</a>, putting oneself out there for recognition and display can be profoundly uncomfortable. But as caterpillars must endure the chrysalis to become butterflies so too must I find my own critical point to begin metamorphosis.Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-5658561855947459962010-11-04T17:39:00.000-07:002010-11-04T17:44:21.325-07:00Fall Food, Films and Fiction<span style="font-style:italic;">Tout d’abord</span>, good news! We had a breakthrough on the healthcare/insurance front and I’ll soon be receiving my orthopedic device which will help physical therapy go much faster. I’ll still have to wear it for quite awhile before returning to Host Country, but each step brings me a little closer. <br /><br />We had a few trick-or-treaters this year, more than I expected. Our neighborhood has changed over the years, but we still don’t have many families with young children running around. Oh well, at least <span style="font-style:italic;">Maman</span> had bought licorice and animal crackers for treats instead of tempting candy bars. During my time at home, I have discovered a new passion for strawberry-yogurt covered breakfast bars. There was an attempt at instant mashed potatoes, which reminded me of <span style="font-style:italic;">le tô</span>, the traditional dish par excellence in Host Country. I wish I could say that these memories imbued the dish with a taste akin to <a href="http://www.foodreference.com/html/qmadeleine.html">Proust’s madeleine</a>, but alas, ‘twas not to be.<br /><br />As for films, I’ve watched “Robin Hood,” “Perfume” and “The Girl Who Played with Fire” among others. I enjoyed listening to the Australian lead actors in Robin Hood chatter away in their British accents and was glad to hear a bit of French when the characters were a) in France or b) talking to a French person. Such historical realism was not to be found in “Perfume,” the story of a young man blessed with an over-stimulated sense of smell and cursed with a lust for possession. It was, <span style="font-style:italic;">cependant</span>, still an enjoyable film with great acting by Dustin Hoffman. Quant au dernier film, I was a bit shocked as to how much of the book the production team had cut out, but they managed to keep the essential threads. What I’m really looking forward to is the third film. Sex crimes and murderous lairs reeking of criminals make for good dramatic cinema, but a psychologically-torturous courtroom drama will be a big change.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Enfin</span>, I’m working my way through <span style="font-style:italic;">Lettres philosophes</span> by Voltaire and Half-Broke Horses by Jeannette Walls. Both possess a key characteristic that keeps my reading interest: short units (letters and vignettes, respectively). Voltaire’s reflections on the relatively freedom of English reason and nobility compared to the stuffiness of Louis XV France are quite interesting in light of <span style="font-style:italic;">les Révolutions (Française et Américaine)</span>. It’s been a great vocabulary-enriching exercise to read tracts on religious philosophy and meditations on the composition of the cosmos while at the same time grappling with new verbs in the <span style="font-style:italic;">passé simple </span>and arcane adjectives. Walls’ novel draws from her grandmother’s life and depicts a young woman’s growth in a period of great technological and cultural change. Each vignette about key episodes in Lily’s life is punctuated by reflections regarding family responsibility and savoir-faire. Fascinating read and a great follow-up to 2005’s The Glass Castle.Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-15899879588599869902010-10-30T12:45:00.000-07:002010-10-30T12:48:27.270-07:00Anatomy of a DayEv’ning<br /><br />Beautiful sunset glows<br />Time has wast’d away<br />Soon there’ll be winter snows<br />Outdoors I shan’t stay<br />Copyright BurkinaSciSteven 2010<br /><br />I’ve been trying to take advantage of the natural beauty available off my lovely back porch during these past few weeks. While on my site visit, I spent 7 hours a day reading on my front porch, surrounded by animal noises and the green <span style="font-style:italic;">espoir</span> (hope) of freshly planted crops. Now that I’m back in AmericaLand, I have a tendency to spend most of my day indoors surrounded by Wi-Fi and climate control. I don’t feel that I’m wasting my days, but I do miss that extra dimension. Sure, I catch a few minutes of time here when I let the cats out, there when I walk to my car but it can hardly compare. <br /><br />I usually get up around 8 am, spend some time drinking coffee, reading the newspaper and easing into the day. Next, I spend a few hours on<span style="font-style:italic;"> la Red</span> (the Net en español) reading blog posts and newspaper stories – I hit up the New York Times, <span style="font-style:italic;">Le Monde</span>, <span style="font-style:italic;">El País</span> and amuse myself by attempting to read a few headlines from <span style="font-style:italic;">Die Welt</span>. Lunch comes all too soon and is a pleasant interruption. <span style="font-style:italic;">Maman </span>comes home to chat about the day so far, what we’ll do that afternoon and how spoiled the cats are. My last few PT appointments have been in the early afternoon which gives me a chance to stretch out a bit.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Une fois rentré </span>(once home), I read a few chapters from An American Tragedy(Dreiser), Half Broke Horses (Jeannette Walls) or <span style="font-style:italic;">Lettres philosophiques</span> (Voltaire). Normally I enjoy the comfort of my bed, but reading works as a pleasant outdoor activity for me. The antics of birds and rabbits are still fun to watch, though remarkably less so now that they’ve figured out that the cat is too spoiled and fat to pose any serious danger. Then that 5 minute Facebook break has turned into an hour of snooping and clicking on various Wikipedia links. A few days a week before dinner, I like to <span style="font-style:italic;">me promener</span> (walk around, stroll) with my mother in our local park. Birds call, soccer moms power-walk and youth unencumbered by jobs or homework congregate in the street to conduct loud bonding rituals (yelling, chasing, posturing). <br /><br />Evening is a time of reckoning, when we stop and take stock of our day. Was it joyful/sad/productive/restorative/unsatisfying? When you don’t have a lot of scheduled activities, it’s easy to while the day away and then feel guilty at its bittersweet end. Twenty minutes of outdoor time is my minimum requirement for “fine day,” as the status quo around here is luckily “good day.” <br /><br />Wishing you all "fine days" and Happy Halloween!Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-37014394661938344022010-10-24T08:49:00.000-07:002010-10-24T08:52:36.604-07:00De l’opacité à la transparenceThe further I go in my study of languages, the clearer things become for awhile. It’s as if I’m polishing a glass window with a rag. It starts out completely opaque and I have no idea where to start. Sure of my ability to turn challenges into opportunities, I pick a spot and start polishing. Books and classes are my WindexTM, daily practice is my cleaning rag. This <span style="font-style:italic;">récemment-trouvé</span> (new-found ) translucence is usually just clear enough for me to see just how much more work there is to do. But, whatever, I’m feeling pretty confident in my abilities and tackle a large swathe. Ooomf! I overreach and feel more lost than before. Then I remember how hard it was to make that first <span style="font-style:italic;">tache claire</span> (clear patch) and go back to books, classes and speaking. Eventually, I get this spot clear and continue. <span style="font-style:italic;">Une fois terminé</span> (once finished), I wipe the whole window again to turn translucence into transparence. I’m currently at different stages of this process for different language. <span style="font-style:italic;">Par exemple</span>, the French window is mostly transparent with a few stubborn spots of translucence and some opaque blotches I have yet to encounter. I’d say that my English window is quite clean with a few specks, my Spanish window is getting more translucent by the day and that my Local Language window is mostly opaque with a few spots of clarity. I don’t need all of the windows to be perfectly clear all of the time – I’d simply like to be able to see what’s going on outside. <br /><br />One <span style="font-style:italic;">domaine </span>in which I’m currently trying to improve my vocabulary is biology. As the title of this blog explains, I’ll be teaching <span style="font-style:italic;">Sciences de la Vie et de la Terre</span> in French once I return to Host Country. This is a challenge which puts me on equal footing with all of the other <span style="font-style:italic;">co-stagiaires</span> since I don’t have a large scientific vocabulary in any language other than English. My language classes centered on daily activities (what kinds of fruit to buy, how to express that one would like to ski) and literary interpretation. These skills come in handy when trying to explain the reproduction cycle of flowering plants and climates of the Earth, but don’t give much clue as to the "proper" scientific terms. Last year in Nancy, I used to wander through the aquarium/natural history museum and gaze at the beautiful names for the exhibited wonders. Some corresponded directly to their English counterparts: <span style="font-style:italic;">une étoile de mer </span>(literally “sea star”) is a starfish. Others had chosen different characteristics to highlight, but were still recognizable:<span style="font-style:italic;"> une méduse </span>is a jellyfish, which as a cnidarian goes through a life cycle of polyp and medusa stages. Still others had seemingly no connection: <span style="font-style:italic;">un scalaire</span> is an angelfish, <span style="font-style:italic;">un escargot</span> is (you guessed it) a snail. <br /><br />Back in the States, I’ve been watching nature documentaries in French and Spanish. Clips from the BBC’s award-winning series “Planet Earth” and “Blue Planet” are available on YouTube in various dubiously-legal formats. Furthermore, I watched the French film “Océans,” a spinoff of the BBC idea condensed into one 1.5 hour film instead of several episodes. I learned that a walrus is <span style="font-style:italic;">un morse</span> (<span style="font-style:italic;">una morsa</span> in Spanish) and <span style="font-style:italic;">une baleine à bosse</span> is quite literally a humpback whale. Granted, while living in a landlocked Sahelian country it’s unlikely that I’ll see any of these creatures, it’s still interesting to think about how language influences the way we think about the natural world. Since eighth grade my teachers and professors have expounded on the miracle of binomial nomenclature as a universal naming system. As more and more scientific articles are published in English rather than in French, German or Russian, what shifts are yet to come?<br /><br />Speaking of shifts, I had a pleasant conversation with Host Country administrators this week and we’ll hopefully work with Peace Corps HQ to create a return plan for me in the coming months. <span style="font-style:italic;">À bientôt</span> (see you soon)!Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-27898059695136403192010-10-20T18:50:00.000-07:002010-10-20T19:00:34.326-07:00Je Suis D'Ici et D'Ailleurs, Entre Deux Vies*News from the orthopedic surgeon today: good progress, waiting for the Brace that Will Hold Up the WorldTM, follow-up appointment in six weeks. Yes, my Kansas detour will last a bit longer than expected. I’ve recently suffered a few bouts of <span style="font-style:italic;">le syndrome de l’imposteur</span>. All passed by quickly, <span style="font-style:italic;">alxamdulilaay</span>, but still provided opportunities for self-reflection. <br /><br />- Peace Corps – I have received a lot of support from friends/colleagues and am waiting to return, but I am no longer like the others. They have had many shared experiences and I don't know if I can <span style="font-style:italic;"> les rattraper </span>(catch up to them). Like many tightly-knit groups, the Peace Corps has its own idea of “age” based on length of service. In some countries, it’s not uncommon to hear “Are you from Host Country 20 or 21? When will the 20s have their training?” Will I still be in <span style="font-style:italic;">ma cohorte</span>, in generation 1.5 or in another situation entirely? <br />- Grad School – As part of the great process of <span style="font-style:italic;">se tourner vers l’avenir </span>(looking to the future), I’ve been researching graduate schools and comparing applications. <span style="font-style:italic;">Bien que </span>(although) I’ll have great recommendations from faculty, I still started panicking when I saw the Personal Statement where I’m asked to define what led me to the field and what I hope to do with my education. Other concerns from web browsing: hard to refocus on “one” goal after relishing diverse experiences and reading <span style="font-style:italic;">selon mes envies</span> (according to my urges/cravings) , comparisons with Everyone Else Who Is Wildly Successful (speaks/reads seven languages, has received super-fancy fellowships, etc).<br /> <br />In addition to moments of self-doubt and tortured self-reflection, I’ve had some very positive experiences as well. Not surprisingly, most of these deal with human interaction. Though I’ m an introvert most of the time, human contact and relationships sustain my emotional life and keep me from being listening too closely to the doubts swirling around my mind. That, and <span style="font-style:italic;">le sport</span> – nothing like a nice walk on a sunny day to turn your mood around! <br /><br />- Peace Corps - I’ve received a lot of encouraging mail and hope to speak to the administration team in Host Country in the near future about logistics, which should put most of these questions to rest. <span style="font-style:italic;">En outre</span>, I’ll always have those strong connections with my group no matter what I’m called. This week, I gave presentations to sixth graders about the goals of the Peace Corps and what my all-to-brief journey to Burkina was like. This activated a positive feedback loop of performance and adrenaline and reminded me of the joy of teaching and why I joined the Peace Corps. <br />- Grad School - While stressing out, I glanced over my CV and some common themes jumped out (<span style="font-style:italic;">l’Afrique, la Francophonie, l’identité</span>). I was able to type up a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Bird-Some-Instructions-Writing-Life/dp/0385480016/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1287625077&sr=8-1">shitty first draft</a> with some ideas, which went a LONG way towards calming me down. <span style="font-style:italic;">De plus</span>, I reviewed some of my old papers and my spirits rose while rereading my own bright insights and encouraging comments from respected professors. While I have some fields that interest me more than others, I don’t have to actually be ready to write a dissertation/commit to a topic RIGHT THIS MINUTE!!!<br /><br />*<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J958Xc-AI_Q">Sheryfa Luna </a>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-53495792489160959062010-10-18T05:06:00.001-07:002010-10-18T05:11:21.378-07:00Age Ain't Nothin' But A Number (And a Host of Socially-Agreed Upon Conventions)One large difference between cultures is the definition of stages of the life cycle. While in one context adolescence might extend until age 18, it may not be unusual to see 15 year olds with jobs and families. The very markers we use to define age classes also differ: what roles do academic achievement, independent living, childbearing, working full-time play in determining who is and who isn’t an adult? And how has the recent global recession changed the significance of these markers? If someone holds a full-time job and pays rent to his/her parents for a room in the family home, is s/he “self-sufficient”?<br /><br />Much of this reflection was spurred after I had read <a href="http://www.newsweek.com/blogs/nurture-shock/2009/11/05/why-teenagers-are-growing-up-so-slowly-today.html">this article</a> from Newsweek while waiting for my physical therapy appointment. Clients at HomeTown physical therapy practice run the gamut from chatty octogenarians (J rides the bicycle next to me and compares progress and thoughts about the weather) to stoic <span style="font-style:italic;">jeunes</span> from the local high schools in for sport injuries. During a recent appointment, I needed to do some exercises in the common room rather than in one of the <span style="font-style:italic;">intime </span>(cozy) examination rooms. Suddenly, I was in view and within earshot of eight other patients and their therapists. Conversations regarding dog breeds, newly released films and best restaurants for a cheap date combined to form a <span style="font-style:italic;">cacophonie chaotique</span>.<br /><br />Though I’ve been out of college for awhile, I’m still used to being in age-segregated spaces. The majority of my fellow stagiaires in Host Country are between the ages of 23 and 26, with a few wonderful outliers. Last year in France, I lived with other twentysomethings in a dorm-type situation. At work, however, I interacted with two age diverse groups. As I’d expected, the faculty ranged in age from 23 to 60 but the more striking<span style="font-style:italic;"> gamme</span> was that of the students’ ages. Within one class, I worked with 14 year olds to 24 year olds and every age in between. Part of this is symptomatic of high rates of <span style="font-style:italic;">redoubler</span> (repeating a year) at my particular <span style="font-style:italic;">établissement</span> and in <a href="http://www.scienceshumaines.com/la-france-championne-du-redoublement-scolaire_fr_15054.html">France in general</a>. <span style="font-style:italic;">Redoublants</span> can also be found in Host Country, the USA and many other countries, especially those that have strict promotion requirements and exams between primary, lower secondary and upper secondary schools.<br /><br />From my observations, adolescence seemed to be the most variable state in Host Country life. The peoples of Host Country, like many around the world, believe that elders should be revered, due in part to their acquired wisdom. Children were given fewer responsibilities and accordingly fewer privileges. Adolescence, <span style="font-style:italic;">cependant</span>, lasted five years for some people and ten for others. Some grew up faster due to external circumstances, such as the loss of a family member. Others, however, made conscious choices about how long they stayed in school, when they started asking for more adult clothing, when they became romantically involved. <br /><br /> Many of my working friends have independently arrived at the same conclusion: “adulthood” encompasses far more ages and stages than “childhood” or “adolescence.” This is not to suggest that the latter two phases are less important (or fraught with less drama!), but rather to make sense of the sudden shift from being surrounded primarily by age peers to making friends at different stages of life. There are many positive aspects to this change: opportunities for less formalized mentorship than could be found in an academic setting, less angst as everyone approaches the same transition phases. On the other hand, it can be hard as a freshly minted graduate to search for age peers, especially if most of your colleagues are 4+ years older and in different romantic/familial situations than yourself. Of course, this assumes that “you” were a traditional undergraduate who was not working more than 15+ hours per week, was not supporting a family and was 18-23 at the time. <br /><br />While I had fun in college (thanks especially to R, K and P), life after graduation is wonderful as well. Thankfully most of my friends have found their way into medical/law/graduate schools which are good fits or have managed to find a job vaguely related to one or more of their interests. My parents aren’t the most *ahem* exciting people on the planet, but they make adulthood look like it’s not all tears and pain. Perhaps that’s one reason why I never felt the need to go overboard at <span style="font-style:italic;">université</span>: I knew that there would be more waiting afterwards. Add this to the list of issues that I would like to investigate further dès mon retour (upon my return) to Host Country. Orthopedics appointment this week! <br />*Hat tip to Pretty Ricky and Aaliyah!Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-18940252099331953182010-10-11T14:34:00.000-07:002010-10-11T14:41:12.029-07:00Donne-moi un signe, aucun signe!Before leaving Host Country, we had a session on local superstitions and legends in Host Country. For a wonderful list, check out <a href="http://exitanytime.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-would-love-cold-dr-pepper.html">Valerie at Exit Anytime</a>. According to the All-Knowing Mind (aka Wikipedia), Rules of Three exist in the fields of medicine, Wicca, mathematics, writing, economics, programming et <span style="font-style:italic;">beaucoup d’autres </span>(and many more). With respect to writing, things often come in threes to suggest the building up and release of dramatic tension, to emphasize certain traits and to establish patterns. In the past few weeks, I’ve been searching for signs that I will indeed return to Host Country. To wit:<br /><br />1) The <a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/39151931/ns/nightly_news-making_a_difference/">NBC Nightly News</a> ran a story about the Peace Corps reentering Sierra Leone after a 16-year absence. Many questions ensued from family and community members as to the veracity of this portrayal. Verdict: Accurate<br />2) The <a href="http://www.cbs.com/primetime/amazing_race/recaps/1703/recaps.php?season=17">Amazing Race</a> participants left Accra, Ghana to voyager to a rural village.My mother commented that she is now able to identify several West African countries on a map. Yeah Goal 3: Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans. <br />3) Walking up my driveway, I noticed a spider web with a central gap that looked almost precisely like Africa. It was glittering in the mid-afternoon sun and I meant to take a photograph of it before the rain came down. No citation, but I have a very reliable witness.<br /><br />And if you still think that those occurrences are due to the random hand of <span style="font-style:italic;">La Fortune</span> <span style="font-style:italic;">ou les lubies</span> (the whims) of national television and local arachnids, I submit the greatest sign of all: great messages from friends, family and community members. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Thank you/Merci/Barka/Gracias/Obrigado/Jerejef/Danke.</span>Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-29687381442230557012010-10-10T20:42:00.000-07:002010-10-10T20:44:29.171-07:00To everything - turn, turn, turn - there is a season..Life this past week has been quite hectic. I’ve had to fill out a lot of paperwork and attend many <span style="font-style:italic;">rendez-vous</span> at my excellent new physical therapy practice. Since I’ll be at HomeBase for awhile, I’ve also started reconnecting with college friends and researching prospective graduate programs while I have Internet. A few days a week, my mother and I take a turn about the local park for exercise and conversation. Furthermore, my bed presents too many temptations of sleep and reality TV for me to do any work there. Thus, I decamp to the kitchen island or the deck in order to draft these bloggy delights. Gazing out into my backyard or observing squirrels in the park’s pine trees, I’ve noticed signs that winter doth approach. The leaves are changing color, the rabbits are becoming bolder in their search for food and the shorts/flip flop combination I’ve been wearing is no longer sufficient to stave off chilly breezes. Growing up in the Midwest, I usually experience a few seasons every day and didn’t think much about the different climes presented in my schoolbooks. Having survived a <span style="font-style:italic;">tour de force </span>European winter and more than a few blistering hot days in Africa, I can now better understand the importance of seasons in literature and film. Not only do places like South Africa have the opposite pattern of seasons from the US (spring starts in early September), but places like Host Country have an entirely different alternation of seasons (rainy season, hot season, not-too-hot-or-rainy season). In Western literature, autumn usually symbolizes decay, abundant harvest or some combination thereof (cf Keats, To Autumn). What if your home doesn’t have an autumn? One of the challenges for postcolonial nations is translating Northern Hemisphere experiences such as skiing to their own cultural realities. Mentions of senses that are supposed to remind us of shared experiences (a brisk autumn breeze, songbirds singing amongst melting snow) instead inspire exclusion. The phenomenon works both ways – I didn’t understand why so many peoples of the world took siestas until I lived in a subtropical climate for four months. But there was a key difference. As an American, I had access to a rich (in terms of sheer quantity and in cultural capital) literature relating experiences similar to my own. Works from their own cultures do exist, but they often aren’t widely distributed and are predominately written in world (colonial) languages. Things are starting to look up as more authors from the Global South are published and postcolonial studies gains more respect as an intellectual field of inquiry. Until then, Host Country pupils will still grow up surrounded by literature that speaks of falling autumn leaves and princesses with <span style="font-style:italic;">peau blanche comme neige</span> (skin as white as snow).Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5618042452137420903.post-52397582304399448052010-10-05T19:37:00.000-07:002010-10-05T19:42:24.946-07:00EscapismSince my return to the US for further treatment of problems caused during Unbloggable EventsTM, I have been torn between wanting to learn as much as I can about Host Country from afar (reviewing language notes, reading journal articles, etc) and ignoring it so as not to dwell on my absence. At the same time, I’ve become more plugged into American culture (reading a Theodore Dreiser novel set in Kansas City, listening to popular music and checking Facebook a lot) but since I hope this will be a short detour rather than a long-term <span style="font-style:italic;">séjour</span> (stay), I’m reluctant to completely engage with this culture. As a compromise, while I’m in this “liminal” state (shoutout to law student P and his diatribe against this term!), I’ve been focusing on European culture. This provides a good balance between America and Africa – I can maintain my French and Spanish language skills and already possess most of the cultural capital to understand phenomena in Western Europe. However, it’s still “different” enough to attract my curiosity and spur meditations on cultural diversity. <br /><br />I’ve been listening to popular music that I come across on YouTube. One song that piqued my interest was Jena Lee’s <span style="font-style:italic;">Victime idéale</span>. The singer asks a 13 year old girl if carelessly flaunting all of the material attributes of womanhood really makes her happy. First verse (with off-the-cuff translation):<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Treize ans à peine, t’as peur de rien</span> Barely thirteen, you fear nothing<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Tu te sens femme, et tu la joues bien </span><br />You feel like a woman and you play the role well<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">T’as le lipstick et les piercings </span><br /> You’ve got the lipstick and the piercings<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Et sur ton blog, ton corps est en vitrine </span><br />And on your blog, your body is on display<br /><br />Later references include “low-cut miniskirt,” “g-string,” “belly-button ring” and “mascara.” Having grown up in America during the 90s, I saw this <span style="font-style:italic;">phénomène</span> at middle school and high school (according to reliable sources, it still exists). Would young women in Host Country villages identify with this material display of adulthood? Perhaps. Adolescents all over the world desire to be treated more like adults. Young ladies may not all have blogs and miniskirts, but they also find ways to express their maturity, such as by taking on different roles within the family, wearing more womanly outfits or dating. Gender roles are complex in both America and Host Country, involving styles of dress and speech, family composition and duties and educational/professional success. Not only does culture play a role, so does affluence – young ladies in Host Country cities have more access to good than their <span style="font-style:italic;">cousines villageoises</span>.<br /><br />A final escapist indulgence has been [limited quantities of] American reality TV. I’ve been watching a few episodes of “16 and Pregnant” and “Teen Mom” – reminders that in many cultures motherhood brings with it adult privileges and responsibilities. I’m not sure what direct and indirect cultural equivalents exist, but I’m excited to find out upon my return. Thanks to all of my stage-mates who have left comments – <span style="font-style:italic;">wend na ko-d nindaare</span> (may God grant that we shall each other again one of these days)!Stevenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13383497220062556491noreply@blogger.com0