This is up the riberia abut 20 minutes walk from my village. It may give you a better sense of the terrain here.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Ribeira
This is up the riberia abut 20 minutes walk from my village. It may give you a better sense of the terrain here.
Plantation...sorta
Here is a place that has invested the time and money ( a lot of it) in drip irrigation techniques. As you can see, it is an oasis in the desert.
I am Gods Gift to ESL Teachers
I am God’s gift to ESL Teachers
But not really. But sometimes I feel like am. Iºm writing in a moment of exaltation, so please allow me to pat myself on the back for a minute…
After sign-up for English classes, there was a total of 38 people interested. Fine with me. Good start. After the first week of English classes, there were 62. Wow! Word had gotten around that my classes were, and I quote, “fun and interesting and people were actually learning.” Tourists passing through town are stopping at my house and telling me that people are walking up to them and asking how they are and what are their names and where do they come from. When they ask them where they learned their English, they tell them...Teacher Caley! That weekend (sign up was officially closed at that point), after the second week of classes, I was more or less inundated by people requesting to be let in to the class late. They were promising to come to every class, never be late, take good notes, work extra hard to catch up. Against the advice of my Association’s president, I accepted everyone, and set up a full-day “seminar” to catch everyone up on hat they had missed. Everyone showed up, everyone paid attention, everyone took notes, everyone asked question. I’ve now got 112 students in four classes from 5 to 9 at night, covering the entire spectrum of ages (8 to 49) and experience (some have never heard a word, others have been studyinh it in school for 5 or six years), and we’re really making progress.
We started with simple “Good evening. Good evening. Hi my name is _____. What is your name? My name is _____. Pleased to meet you. Nice to meet you too. How are you? I am fine. And you? I’m well, thanks. Ok, good night. See you later.” Later, I taught them “from”, numbers, ordinals, days and months, and we added “How old are you? I am 32. And you? I am 26. Where are you from? I am from Cape Verde. And you? I am from America.” Then, “When is your birthday? My birthday is ______. And you? My birthday is ______. Then we drew smiley faces and blank faces and sad faces and learned some vocabulary like fine, sad, ok, well, so-so, sick, tired, happy, terrific, and then we learned Why and Because and then they started asking each other “Why are you sad?” Then we added more vocabulary and introduced the verb “to be” and What, Where, Who, When, Why and How, “to like,” “to want” and “to be able to” and augmented our vocabulary and introduced some prepositions so we can talk about locations of things. We sing the alphabet song every day at the end of class, we translate the music of (the much beloved in Cape Verde) Brian Adams because they can all sing the words even though they don’t know what they mean. (NOTE to future ESL teachers, be prepared to explain alternate significance of the number 69 if you translate the song “Summer of 69.” They WILL ask.) Thursday is FUN day. I read some poetry to prove the English language can be beautiful (I recommend Nothing Gold Can Stay for a great example) and then I read something from a book of Kriolu poetry I found used on Amazon.com of all places. They’ve never seen their own language in print or writing (Kriolu is, as of now, only a spoken language…there is no official alphabet, no spelling or pronunciation rules yet) and they are pretty much moved to tears to see it printed in an actual hard-bound book. Its like an original version f the King James Bible to them. Although I don’t speak it (Kriolu) well yet, I know more about it, grammatically, linguistically and phonetically than they do, and they CRAVE information about it. Then (on Thursdays) we have games and competitions (What is the third letter of the alphabet? What day was yesterday? How do you change the sentence “They are from France.” into a question? How do you pronounce the number 1,873? For real laughs, I ask them to pronounce the number 3,333 because they are, as yet, incapable of making the “th” sound. They say Tree Tousand Tree Hundid Turdy Tree.) During these exercises I give away some or all of loot I have received from home. Starbursts are, as far as my students are concerned, absolutely the greatest invention in the history of mankind. (SOMEONE SEND ME SOME MORE!!!!) Attendance was 100%. There were kids peering in the windows of the school, people lined up outside my classroom 15 minutes before class in a country where people regularly show up 2 hours late for work or church or anything else you can think of. Twice, after losing power in town, I tried to cancel class and was met woth outrage and forced to give classes by candlelight. Friday is movie night, where I make pots and pots of pipoka (popcorn, which is REAL cheap to make) and show a film from America (hopefully with Portuguese subtitles) and explain in Kriolu parts that they don’t understand. They LOVE movie night, and watch (at least in the case of the new Transformers movie) with mouths agape…like kids inside Toys R’ Us for the first time.
Than last week a setback. Attendance plummeted. The people that did make it to class were looking at their watches, even though they donºt have watches. Even my Golden Ace in the Hole, the undefeatable music of Michael Bolton, also insanely, perversely popular here, failed miserably. Someone actually got up and left in the middle of the class that night. I was devastated. Finally I asked Jailson, the coolest kid in town, why people were dropping out. He explained that it was only for the next couple of days, as the European Champions League (soccer) was having its final matches during class hours. This is essentially a 5 day Super Bowl that oly the biggest nerds in town would miss out on. I cancelled classes for the last 2 days and yesterday, my classroom was full again. Today, to regenerate interest, I conducted a village-wide scavenger hunt. This afternoon, I pasted letters in hidden spots all around Chan di Igreja, and then in class I taught them prepositional phrases (behind the church, under the stairs, on the side of the tree, behind the door, under you chair). Then I gave them a list of clues to find the jumbled letters. They had to run all over creation, finding the letters according to the clues and unscramble them to make the sentence “Hello, how are you?” The winners from each class got to pick from a bag of goodies (Everyone chose Juicy Fruit, or Choosey Foot as its known here). They went absolutely bat-shit crazy for it. I was given several hugs tonight.
Then, just minutes ago, at almost midnight here, I went on to the roof to have a cigarette. (First one in 3 days Mom!) While up there, I heard a conversation from a thatch-roofed house below. Know what I heard? People Practicing. “Good evening. Good evening. Hello, my name is Jandira. What is your name? My name is Jaicy. Pleased to meet you. Nice to meet you too. How are you? I am fine.” Etc. Etc. Etc. They even improvised the dialogue we’ve been practicing by adding separate elements that we’ve been working on. (I heard Jandira ask and Jaicy reply, almost correctly, “What is your mother name? My mother name is Fatinha.”) I’ll admit that I cried and laughed a little bit and felt a swell of love and pride. My students. (After hearing that conversation, I’ve resolved to teach the possessive case “ ‘s “ as soon as possible.)
Anyway, it’s only been a month of classes so far and I know we’ve got a long way to go, but I’m encouraged and excited and challenged in earnest each day. Imagine teaching, while speaking in a language you barely understand, why you can say “The circle is in front of the square.” But you have to say “He is at the front of the line.” (It’s the little things, like the “th” sound, or “at the front of “ vs. “in front of,” or explaining why we use about a dozen words where in Kriolu they may use only one (over here para means, through, at, for, into, through, stop and a few dozen over things), or how in the HELL can we not have the English equivalents of the words “boquat” or “brop,” which they use in every other sentence. (The closest thing I can think of is “some” and “wild”, respectively, but they don’t mean exactly that either.)
Point of all this is, I’m having a hell of a time, and a hell of a good time, with this teaching English business, and couldn’t be happier about my experience so far. I come home at night exhausted and hoarse and covered in chalk dust…and I LOVE it. If anyone is tinkering with the idea of teaching ANYTHING, I vote that you give it a try. There’s nothing like it that I’ve known.
But not really. But sometimes I feel like am. Iºm writing in a moment of exaltation, so please allow me to pat myself on the back for a minute…
After sign-up for English classes, there was a total of 38 people interested. Fine with me. Good start. After the first week of English classes, there were 62. Wow! Word had gotten around that my classes were, and I quote, “fun and interesting and people were actually learning.” Tourists passing through town are stopping at my house and telling me that people are walking up to them and asking how they are and what are their names and where do they come from. When they ask them where they learned their English, they tell them...Teacher Caley! That weekend (sign up was officially closed at that point), after the second week of classes, I was more or less inundated by people requesting to be let in to the class late. They were promising to come to every class, never be late, take good notes, work extra hard to catch up. Against the advice of my Association’s president, I accepted everyone, and set up a full-day “seminar” to catch everyone up on hat they had missed. Everyone showed up, everyone paid attention, everyone took notes, everyone asked question. I’ve now got 112 students in four classes from 5 to 9 at night, covering the entire spectrum of ages (8 to 49) and experience (some have never heard a word, others have been studyinh it in school for 5 or six years), and we’re really making progress.
We started with simple “Good evening. Good evening. Hi my name is _____. What is your name? My name is _____. Pleased to meet you. Nice to meet you too. How are you? I am fine. And you? I’m well, thanks. Ok, good night. See you later.” Later, I taught them “from”, numbers, ordinals, days and months, and we added “How old are you? I am 32. And you? I am 26. Where are you from? I am from Cape Verde. And you? I am from America.” Then, “When is your birthday? My birthday is ______. And you? My birthday is ______. Then we drew smiley faces and blank faces and sad faces and learned some vocabulary like fine, sad, ok, well, so-so, sick, tired, happy, terrific, and then we learned Why and Because and then they started asking each other “Why are you sad?” Then we added more vocabulary and introduced the verb “to be” and What, Where, Who, When, Why and How, “to like,” “to want” and “to be able to” and augmented our vocabulary and introduced some prepositions so we can talk about locations of things. We sing the alphabet song every day at the end of class, we translate the music of (the much beloved in Cape Verde) Brian Adams because they can all sing the words even though they don’t know what they mean. (NOTE to future ESL teachers, be prepared to explain alternate significance of the number 69 if you translate the song “Summer of 69.” They WILL ask.) Thursday is FUN day. I read some poetry to prove the English language can be beautiful (I recommend Nothing Gold Can Stay for a great example) and then I read something from a book of Kriolu poetry I found used on Amazon.com of all places. They’ve never seen their own language in print or writing (Kriolu is, as of now, only a spoken language…there is no official alphabet, no spelling or pronunciation rules yet) and they are pretty much moved to tears to see it printed in an actual hard-bound book. Its like an original version f the King James Bible to them. Although I don’t speak it (Kriolu) well yet, I know more about it, grammatically, linguistically and phonetically than they do, and they CRAVE information about it. Then (on Thursdays) we have games and competitions (What is the third letter of the alphabet? What day was yesterday? How do you change the sentence “They are from France.” into a question? How do you pronounce the number 1,873? For real laughs, I ask them to pronounce the number 3,333 because they are, as yet, incapable of making the “th” sound. They say Tree Tousand Tree Hundid Turdy Tree.) During these exercises I give away some or all of loot I have received from home. Starbursts are, as far as my students are concerned, absolutely the greatest invention in the history of mankind. (SOMEONE SEND ME SOME MORE!!!!) Attendance was 100%. There were kids peering in the windows of the school, people lined up outside my classroom 15 minutes before class in a country where people regularly show up 2 hours late for work or church or anything else you can think of. Twice, after losing power in town, I tried to cancel class and was met woth outrage and forced to give classes by candlelight. Friday is movie night, where I make pots and pots of pipoka (popcorn, which is REAL cheap to make) and show a film from America (hopefully with Portuguese subtitles) and explain in Kriolu parts that they don’t understand. They LOVE movie night, and watch (at least in the case of the new Transformers movie) with mouths agape…like kids inside Toys R’ Us for the first time.
Than last week a setback. Attendance plummeted. The people that did make it to class were looking at their watches, even though they donºt have watches. Even my Golden Ace in the Hole, the undefeatable music of Michael Bolton, also insanely, perversely popular here, failed miserably. Someone actually got up and left in the middle of the class that night. I was devastated. Finally I asked Jailson, the coolest kid in town, why people were dropping out. He explained that it was only for the next couple of days, as the European Champions League (soccer) was having its final matches during class hours. This is essentially a 5 day Super Bowl that oly the biggest nerds in town would miss out on. I cancelled classes for the last 2 days and yesterday, my classroom was full again. Today, to regenerate interest, I conducted a village-wide scavenger hunt. This afternoon, I pasted letters in hidden spots all around Chan di Igreja, and then in class I taught them prepositional phrases (behind the church, under the stairs, on the side of the tree, behind the door, under you chair). Then I gave them a list of clues to find the jumbled letters. They had to run all over creation, finding the letters according to the clues and unscramble them to make the sentence “Hello, how are you?” The winners from each class got to pick from a bag of goodies (Everyone chose Juicy Fruit, or Choosey Foot as its known here). They went absolutely bat-shit crazy for it. I was given several hugs tonight.
Then, just minutes ago, at almost midnight here, I went on to the roof to have a cigarette. (First one in 3 days Mom!) While up there, I heard a conversation from a thatch-roofed house below. Know what I heard? People Practicing. “Good evening. Good evening. Hello, my name is Jandira. What is your name? My name is Jaicy. Pleased to meet you. Nice to meet you too. How are you? I am fine.” Etc. Etc. Etc. They even improvised the dialogue we’ve been practicing by adding separate elements that we’ve been working on. (I heard Jandira ask and Jaicy reply, almost correctly, “What is your mother name? My mother name is Fatinha.”) I’ll admit that I cried and laughed a little bit and felt a swell of love and pride. My students. (After hearing that conversation, I’ve resolved to teach the possessive case “ ‘s “ as soon as possible.)
Anyway, it’s only been a month of classes so far and I know we’ve got a long way to go, but I’m encouraged and excited and challenged in earnest each day. Imagine teaching, while speaking in a language you barely understand, why you can say “The circle is in front of the square.” But you have to say “He is at the front of the line.” (It’s the little things, like the “th” sound, or “at the front of “ vs. “in front of,” or explaining why we use about a dozen words where in Kriolu they may use only one (over here para means, through, at, for, into, through, stop and a few dozen over things), or how in the HELL can we not have the English equivalents of the words “boquat” or “brop,” which they use in every other sentence. (The closest thing I can think of is “some” and “wild”, respectively, but they don’t mean exactly that either.)
Point of all this is, I’m having a hell of a time, and a hell of a good time, with this teaching English business, and couldn’t be happier about my experience so far. I come home at night exhausted and hoarse and covered in chalk dust…and I LOVE it. If anyone is tinkering with the idea of teaching ANYTHING, I vote that you give it a try. There’s nothing like it that I’ve known.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Some Differences
Some Differences
So, they don’t have lines here. They pretty much don’t exist in any form. At the market, the post office, the bank or the bar…they just crowd. It’s totally acceptable, and totally maddening. You might be at the loja with bottled water and 100$00 CVE in your hand waiting patiently behind the person in front of you, and when they finish in front of you, you’ll step up to the counter and someone from out of nowhere will sidle up next to you with their eggs or whatever and hand over their money. The cutter won’t think its weird, the person behind the counter won’t think its weird, the people behind you won’t even think its weird. Only you will think it’s weird. In this way, in Cape Verde, business is transacted. In this way, in America, people are murdered on the highways or at post offices.
When you see a friend on the street and stop to chat with them, they will hold you hand for the length of the conversation. Men and men, men and women, women and women, children and adults…everyone. One minute chat, ten minute chat. Makes no difference; they’ll hold your hand all the while. It’s polite. Not in a handshake posture either, but holding hands like sweethearts. It takes some getting used to. In this way, in Cape Verde, people show friendship and respect. In this way, in America, rumors and germs are spread.
You can give anything to anyone to give to anyone else, anywhere. No problem. Coming or going over the mountain in the hiace, almost without fail, there will be an old lady or a kid standing on the side of the road somewhere along the way. They will have perhaps a bag or a sack or a jug or an envelope or even cash. The hiace will stop and they will say something to the effect of “this is for Joao who lives in the town of ______.” The driver will take whatever it is and say OK and off we go. It doesn’t matter where the town that Joao lives in is, or even what island it is on, and it doesn’t matter where we’re going, so long as we’re heading in that general direction. When we get where we’re going, the driver will hand it to someone else heading in that direction and say “this is for Joao who lives in the town of ______.” They’ll say OK and off they go. The process is repeated over and over again, and eventually, reliably, the parcel will arrive in the hands of the intended recipient. I’ve seen it happen a million times. Sacks of bananas, letters from Portugal, bottles of grog, suitcases of clothes and wads of cash…all passing through the hands of strangers before dutifully being handed over to the rightful owner. It is a process that never ceases to excite wonder. In this way, in Cape Verde, people who can’t afford to travel or mail something (or rightfully don’t trust the Cape Verdian Postal Service) are able to send things to friends and families. For obvious resons, this could never work in America.
In the same vein, people will go get you just about anything here. The verb they use is mandar (to send for). I haven’t quite worked out the intricacies, but I believe its roots lie in the fact that there is really nothing at all to do here, so if someone needs something done, why not do it for them. It is usually someone older having someone younger go get the something, but not always. Here is how it works. If you need something, and can’t for whatever reason go get it yourself, you send someone else. I can walk out to the roof and drop 50$00 to whoever happens to be standing or walking below and say “Bo ta mandam 2 ovos.” (Go get me two eggs.) They’ll get them, pick out the best 2 eggs of the bunch even, walk up the three flights of stairs and hand me my change. Similarly, I may be walking in the plaza and have someone holler at me to fetch them a bucket of water, or a broom, or their cousin who lives down the street. You can manda a hiace driver to panya (pick up) a ¼ kilo of cheese or a letter from the post office in the next town over if he’s going that way. There is no please and no thank you, and none is expected. It’s just a part of their life here. This could also never work in America.
People that are your friends will take things without asking. Over here, this is not weird. Over here, it’s polite. It takes some getting used to and I’ve had to learn to keep things that I don’t want to share out of site. Essentially, as near as I can tell, the thinking is “If you’re not using it right now, I will.” If they have it, whatever It is, when you want to use it, you go get it back. In this way, in America, friends and neighbors dissolve friendships. In this way, in Cape Verde, three or four families can farm a plot with only 1 achada (spade), clean moray or fish with only one good knife between them, etc.
The entire village raises the children. Anyone can (and probably should if they’re being polite) pick up your child here. Similarly, at any moment, someone may hand you a child that is not your own. You will be expected to shower this child with love and attention, and also discipline and supervision. It may be for five minutes, or two hours. If you’re busy, you can hand it to someone else. Over here, anyone can walk away with your baby…take them to the plaza to sit and play. Feed them. Change them. Spank them. Give them a toy. In this way, in Cape Verde, there is an overwhelming sense of community and trust and friendship and assistance. In this way, in America, Amber Alerts are issued and perverts are pleasured.
You can be a total stupid jackass and leave a wallet with IDs, Credit Card and 10000$00 CVE in it (the equivalent of 4 or 5 months wages from a good job) in the plaza, and go home to cook your dinner and about 15 minutes later, a 13 year old kid that you’ve never met before, or at least don’t remember meeting before, will knock on your door and hand it to you with a smile. He won’t ask for anything, won’t expect anything and won’t take anything…except Juicy Fruit. I know this because I was a total stupid jackass and did this exact thing. I’d like to say that in America this would never happen, but I’m often a total stupid jackass when it comes to losing things and on Christmas Eve a few years ago an Austin Cap Metro bus driver knocked on my door at 10PM and handed me a wallet that I’d left on his bus earlier that day. He drove 5 miles out of his way after work to give it to me. He also wouldn’t take anything, although I didn’t have any Juicy Fruit to offer him at the time.
Lastly. If you ask people over here (and I have), they’ll tell you that the best opportunity that anyone from Cape Verde might ever get (and it’s highly unlikely), is the opportunity to leave here and go to America. It’s sad, but it’s what they think. What’s sadder is that, at least for the time being, it may be true. Over 75% of the county’s income is sent here from charity organizations or family living in other countries. 90% of that money is then sent right back out to another foreign country to buy food, clothing and supplies. Over here there is virtually no infrastructure, no rain and no crops. There is no telling where the next meal is coming from. There is no guarantee you’ll get to go to school. There is no adequate justice system to protect you or punish criminals. There are virtually no services for the poor. There are no jobs here (and even if you could find one in one of the bigger towns, there isn’t a way to get there). There is no public transportation. There are no Universities. There are no special ramps for the handicapped. There aren’t a lot of dreams here. In this way, Cape Verde is sad and poor, and I am happy for the opportunity to try to make a contribution to its development, however insignificant that contribution may be. In this way, America, despite her faults, is still the best country in the world.
That being said, there is much to learn from the people here. Though they have virtually nothing, they are proud. You’d think that they wouldn’t have much to celebrate, but they love to laugh, and sing and dance. Families are impossibly huge, yet manage to be close and caring and loving. They take bad news and no rain with a shrug of the shoulders and a hopeful eye towards next year. They are trusting and trustworthy. They sleep with their doors and windows open. They help each other. In most respects, despite their disadvantages and all that they are lacking, they are something that many (most?) Americans are not…happy.
So, they don’t have lines here. They pretty much don’t exist in any form. At the market, the post office, the bank or the bar…they just crowd. It’s totally acceptable, and totally maddening. You might be at the loja with bottled water and 100$00 CVE in your hand waiting patiently behind the person in front of you, and when they finish in front of you, you’ll step up to the counter and someone from out of nowhere will sidle up next to you with their eggs or whatever and hand over their money. The cutter won’t think its weird, the person behind the counter won’t think its weird, the people behind you won’t even think its weird. Only you will think it’s weird. In this way, in Cape Verde, business is transacted. In this way, in America, people are murdered on the highways or at post offices.
When you see a friend on the street and stop to chat with them, they will hold you hand for the length of the conversation. Men and men, men and women, women and women, children and adults…everyone. One minute chat, ten minute chat. Makes no difference; they’ll hold your hand all the while. It’s polite. Not in a handshake posture either, but holding hands like sweethearts. It takes some getting used to. In this way, in Cape Verde, people show friendship and respect. In this way, in America, rumors and germs are spread.
You can give anything to anyone to give to anyone else, anywhere. No problem. Coming or going over the mountain in the hiace, almost without fail, there will be an old lady or a kid standing on the side of the road somewhere along the way. They will have perhaps a bag or a sack or a jug or an envelope or even cash. The hiace will stop and they will say something to the effect of “this is for Joao who lives in the town of ______.” The driver will take whatever it is and say OK and off we go. It doesn’t matter where the town that Joao lives in is, or even what island it is on, and it doesn’t matter where we’re going, so long as we’re heading in that general direction. When we get where we’re going, the driver will hand it to someone else heading in that direction and say “this is for Joao who lives in the town of ______.” They’ll say OK and off they go. The process is repeated over and over again, and eventually, reliably, the parcel will arrive in the hands of the intended recipient. I’ve seen it happen a million times. Sacks of bananas, letters from Portugal, bottles of grog, suitcases of clothes and wads of cash…all passing through the hands of strangers before dutifully being handed over to the rightful owner. It is a process that never ceases to excite wonder. In this way, in Cape Verde, people who can’t afford to travel or mail something (or rightfully don’t trust the Cape Verdian Postal Service) are able to send things to friends and families. For obvious resons, this could never work in America.
In the same vein, people will go get you just about anything here. The verb they use is mandar (to send for). I haven’t quite worked out the intricacies, but I believe its roots lie in the fact that there is really nothing at all to do here, so if someone needs something done, why not do it for them. It is usually someone older having someone younger go get the something, but not always. Here is how it works. If you need something, and can’t for whatever reason go get it yourself, you send someone else. I can walk out to the roof and drop 50$00 to whoever happens to be standing or walking below and say “Bo ta mandam 2 ovos.” (Go get me two eggs.) They’ll get them, pick out the best 2 eggs of the bunch even, walk up the three flights of stairs and hand me my change. Similarly, I may be walking in the plaza and have someone holler at me to fetch them a bucket of water, or a broom, or their cousin who lives down the street. You can manda a hiace driver to panya (pick up) a ¼ kilo of cheese or a letter from the post office in the next town over if he’s going that way. There is no please and no thank you, and none is expected. It’s just a part of their life here. This could also never work in America.
People that are your friends will take things without asking. Over here, this is not weird. Over here, it’s polite. It takes some getting used to and I’ve had to learn to keep things that I don’t want to share out of site. Essentially, as near as I can tell, the thinking is “If you’re not using it right now, I will.” If they have it, whatever It is, when you want to use it, you go get it back. In this way, in America, friends and neighbors dissolve friendships. In this way, in Cape Verde, three or four families can farm a plot with only 1 achada (spade), clean moray or fish with only one good knife between them, etc.
The entire village raises the children. Anyone can (and probably should if they’re being polite) pick up your child here. Similarly, at any moment, someone may hand you a child that is not your own. You will be expected to shower this child with love and attention, and also discipline and supervision. It may be for five minutes, or two hours. If you’re busy, you can hand it to someone else. Over here, anyone can walk away with your baby…take them to the plaza to sit and play. Feed them. Change them. Spank them. Give them a toy. In this way, in Cape Verde, there is an overwhelming sense of community and trust and friendship and assistance. In this way, in America, Amber Alerts are issued and perverts are pleasured.
You can be a total stupid jackass and leave a wallet with IDs, Credit Card and 10000$00 CVE in it (the equivalent of 4 or 5 months wages from a good job) in the plaza, and go home to cook your dinner and about 15 minutes later, a 13 year old kid that you’ve never met before, or at least don’t remember meeting before, will knock on your door and hand it to you with a smile. He won’t ask for anything, won’t expect anything and won’t take anything…except Juicy Fruit. I know this because I was a total stupid jackass and did this exact thing. I’d like to say that in America this would never happen, but I’m often a total stupid jackass when it comes to losing things and on Christmas Eve a few years ago an Austin Cap Metro bus driver knocked on my door at 10PM and handed me a wallet that I’d left on his bus earlier that day. He drove 5 miles out of his way after work to give it to me. He also wouldn’t take anything, although I didn’t have any Juicy Fruit to offer him at the time.
Lastly. If you ask people over here (and I have), they’ll tell you that the best opportunity that anyone from Cape Verde might ever get (and it’s highly unlikely), is the opportunity to leave here and go to America. It’s sad, but it’s what they think. What’s sadder is that, at least for the time being, it may be true. Over 75% of the county’s income is sent here from charity organizations or family living in other countries. 90% of that money is then sent right back out to another foreign country to buy food, clothing and supplies. Over here there is virtually no infrastructure, no rain and no crops. There is no telling where the next meal is coming from. There is no guarantee you’ll get to go to school. There is no adequate justice system to protect you or punish criminals. There are virtually no services for the poor. There are no jobs here (and even if you could find one in one of the bigger towns, there isn’t a way to get there). There is no public transportation. There are no Universities. There are no special ramps for the handicapped. There aren’t a lot of dreams here. In this way, Cape Verde is sad and poor, and I am happy for the opportunity to try to make a contribution to its development, however insignificant that contribution may be. In this way, America, despite her faults, is still the best country in the world.
That being said, there is much to learn from the people here. Though they have virtually nothing, they are proud. You’d think that they wouldn’t have much to celebrate, but they love to laugh, and sing and dance. Families are impossibly huge, yet manage to be close and caring and loving. They take bad news and no rain with a shrug of the shoulders and a hopeful eye towards next year. They are trusting and trustworthy. They sleep with their doors and windows open. They help each other. In most respects, despite their disadvantages and all that they are lacking, they are something that many (most?) Americans are not…happy.
Dry
So this is the end result of hundreds of man hours of backbreaking work. These fields (and all the rest of Chan di Igreja) were planted with corn and beans months ago, but no rains came. So, all that time that the people spent doubled over digging in the dirt with their hands or a small spade, amounts to a few piles of straw that they can feed to a goat or a cow. Less than 15 hours of rain fell in Chan di Igreja this calendar year.
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