Name here, please.

---

“Andika jina lako, na umri gani.” –Write your name and age. I point to the spot on the piece of notebook paper I’ve brought to the clinic so that I can later report on the number of women included in exclusive breast feeding education. There are baby weight tests three Wednesdays a months, each one serving a different sub-village of my umbrella village, Nyumbanitu. I’ve been attending each weigh day this month to assist in spreading education about the importance of exclusive nursing, particularly due to the risk of HIV infection in infants. It’s not that mothers don’t breast feed already, its that many mothers will allow young children to taste other foods or liquids before the critical six month period of breast feeding has ended. In America, this may not be such a problem, but in our community, more than 20% of the population carries HIV and may not know they are carriers. The micro-abrasions made in an infant’s digestive track from trying even a bite of porridge can annihilate the child’s ability to prevent contraction of viruses from the mother when she returns to breast-feeding. If the mother exclusively breastfeeds for sixth months, she is able to pass important antibodies on to her child and switch to other foods without risking HIV contraction. I’ve printed handouts in town for the women to take as they pass the weigh-station, and the nurses have presented the material out loud each week for emphasis.



“Andika jina lako,” I say again, assuming she can’t understand my newbie Swahili. The young mother leans in close to my face, her infant bumping my shoulder as he enjoys his nap swaddled on his mother’s back. “Siwezi.” She whispers, almost pleading with me to avoid the task. She can’t write her name. As the cluster of women move past the table, I begin to realize that many of them can’t write their names, and more of them do not know their age. I’m embarrassed. Did I think they’d take these technical pamphlets, place them on their refrigerator next to a picture of their daughter playing the flute, and refer back to them to recall scheduled meal times and proper vegetable portions? Jesus, Kate. How long have you lived here? Fortunately, I’ve had the nurses teach the material verbally, so the lessons are not in vain, but what about the latent impacts? Have I further divided myself from these women by forcing them to explain to the little, white volunteer that their education is inferior to my own? F*CK.



I wouldn’t be taking names at all if it weren’t for Peace Corps reporting standards, but I know I don’t have a choice. By the third group of women, I don’t ask anymore. I notion to the roster, allow many women to pick up the pen for themselves and either write or pretend to write what could be a name, or a number. Other women, intimidated by the task, don’t make eye contact with me, or try to avoid my side of the table, until I say, with a smile, “what’s your name?” and write it out for them. I can sense it now; a fearful side eye, hesitation when I hold the pen out to them. I don’t make them tell me they can’t. I just write whatever I think might be the spelling of their Swahili name, hand them the pamphlet, and give a smile. I’ve started to add on to the nurse’s lecture that women who can read or write should help to teach their friends, since we all have various abilities. This seems to ease the tension now, them realizing that I (vaguely) understand the complexities at hand. Though I don’t know how effective these lessons have been, I do know that around 150 mamas in my village have at least been exposed to the information, and.. I managed to make them laugh with my sub-par Swahili and curtsy at the end of each presentation.



Sometimes (all the time) I make mistakes, but I just try to be kind, to make fun of myself, and to let people laugh at me for all the weird American things I do. Everyone in the village knows how much I exercise now. They smile at me as I run by, telling me out loud that I’m doing exercise. Yes, yes that is what I’m doing! It’s nice, though. At first, every single person stopped to ask me where I was going, why I was running. Now, I just coast by with my head-phones in and wave. If someone asks me why I’m running now, I ask them where they’re from—clearly you don’t live in MY village! My neighbors have also kept track of the curious ideas I have about food. When I was boil washing everything for the second time last week (I’ll come back to that), the mama next door had been watching me all day and sent over a little girl with a small bag of mandaazi, the Tanzanian donut. When I poked my head out to wave and thank her from across the street, she waved her hand overhead and shouted in Swahili, “Don’t worry, Kate-ee, it’s only a LITTLE bit of carbs!” Dang, they know their white girl better than I thought.



In other news, my Orange Fleshed Sweet Potatoes are sprouting!!!! I have been singing to them, praising them, and begging them not to give up. It seems to be working. The village is fascinated by my little science project, and four other villagers from our agriculture class are now using the same technique with my precious, original seeds in their own jars at home. As a class, we are experimenting with a different technique for sprouting the OFSP called “Triple S,” where you lightly cover the potatoes in sand, moisten the sand, and leave them in a cool environment. Both tactics are useful for seed-saving education and increased sustainability of the project. After we have successfully sprouted slips and planted them, we will be able to demonstrate the easier method of starting new crop from vine cuttings. I've also reached out and partnered with our region's USAID representative to assist in education about OFSP.



I’m currently working on the grant that would allow me to intensify this project and pair it with 2000 apple trees. On Monday, the village voted in approval of the combined OFSP/Apple project, and were excited at the prospect of increasing both nutrition and income via two new crops. Watching my counterpart and the village government educate the village about the potatoes, apples, nutrition, and sustainability I had taught them the week before was the most fulfilling experience. I can't explain how humbling it is to see your ideas turn into the passions of others. The simultaneous pressure and pride in seeing people take to your information and start running with it leaves you awe-struck.

This week, they will choose the committee members who will attend “trainings of trainers,” and those individuals will then be responsible for training a pyramid of other villagers. The empowerment aspect of training trainers increases sustainability and investment in the project by allowing multiple leadership opportunities. The USAID “Feed the Future” grant process is exhausting, but I’m hopeful that all will go well, considering OFSP is a huge topic of interest for USAID right now. I’m relying heavily on my village counterpart for budgeting and tree information since he’s worked with grafting avocado trees and is experienced in the Peace Corps grant process. As the third PCV in this village, my life has been made easier by the knowledge of prior agricultural projects, but that doesn’t mean it’s “Easy.”



Peace Corps is also attempting something new this year called “micro-grants.” For the first time, volunteers can apply to fund a small project alongside a larger grant. Formerly, volunteers could only have one open grant at a time, which made budgeting for educational materials, cooking demonstrations, or smaller animal husbandry trainings nearly impossible. I’ve now submitted a micro-grant that would allow both my counterpart and me to raise the Khaki Campbell ducks for teaching demos on nutrition and poultry-farming! If it goes through, my travel to retrieve the ducks and the coup building materials would be funded.



Additionally, I was invited to serve on the Peace Corps FEAST committee, which is the agricultural committee that hosts trainings and creates materials for food sustainability, nutrition, and farm tactics. I’ll probably learn more than I teach, but what else is new?! I’ll be heading to a committee meeting in Dar Es Salaam after my HIV Community Theater Training in October. Lots of projects underway. It looks like the next year of my life is going to be VERY full!



Oh, and while all this is happening, I had bedbugs for the second time, which happened to be the same week that I ran out of gasoline AND, for the first time ever, my village water tap was empty. I’ll let you imagine what it was like slow-boiling everything over charcoal with no access to water. I’m not bringing my bags inside after traveling anymore.

Finally, as a social escape, a group of PCVs headed to our little lake campsite in Njombe-Town and did a giant pig-roast last weekend. I stayed at a friend's house the evening before, and she taught us how to make sushi with fancy ingredients she had bought on the coast and brought all the way back to the highlands for a Sushi and Pho Ladies Night. My weekend fun made up for the stress of site, and soaking in the sunshine at the lake was such a treat!

Before I go, another shout out to all of you who have sent me packages. I literally can’t tell you what the tuna, dark chocolate, socks, chia seeds, nuts, protein bars, COFFEE (praise God), inspirational quotes, wipes, deodorant, coloring books, etc, etc…. have meant for my emotional and nutritional health. Your cards are so sweet, your packages so thoughtful, and your kindness truly humbling and overwhelming. I’m fairly certain I have the best support system of anyone I know, and I thank God for my roots every day. Every comment, card, phone call, and blog-read pumps me up to keep going. Thank you, sincerely and desperately, for your love. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you who made me believe I could. ?







Ninampenda (I love you all),







Kate

---

Photos

20170916_141152
The pig roast!

20170920_115922 (1)
When you rediscover your inner self because someone trims your bangs

20170912_102527
Cutting parasites out of my ankles. They live in the dust during dry season and lay eggs under your skin.

IMG_2491
Cindy tearing up the kitchen with her sushi skills

IMG_2492
we can make sushi!!!!

IMG_2499
My small-group from training re-united!

IMG_2505
how do I always get my foot in a photo?

IMG_2512
mom sent my slippers from America and I almost cried from the smell of home.

IMG_2525
tater progress!! Soon they'll be ready to plant!

IMG_2527
They can now SELL AND BUY in ENGLISH!

IMG_2529
My adult English class practicing buying things in English!! They can do it!!