tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63304138966991439932024-02-07T16:50:37.558-08:00Wanderer of DesertsFormer Peace Corps Volunteer in Niger and Mali. Current Americorps volunteer in Washington. David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-46020273707167832632013-03-12T22:09:00.001-07:002013-03-12T22:11:06.288-07:00Gratitude<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One of the things I got from living in a mud hut for 10 months was a sense of <i>gratitude</i>. For what, you ask? Well, a few things. For shelter, clothing, enough to eat, medicine, people that care, a few good books. For what else really is there?<br />
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<img src="http://chimpmania.com/forum/images/imported/2012/04/580.jpg" /><br />
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<i>Home sweet home!</i><br />
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It's like the proverb "One who has never tasted a lemon does not know how sweet sugar is."<br />
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Even before Peace Corps, living simply and frugally has always felt <i>right </i>to me. Maybe it's personal or how I was raised but buying things to feel good has never struck right with my soul.<br />
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Practicing having gratitude is something I try to be mindful to work at. Reading about the <a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/">international news</a> is one way I accomplish this. It seems we have to be reminded how good we have it. I don't get my water from a well or live in a tent as a refugee!<br />
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<img height="300" src="http://www.penusa.org/sites/default/files/well-w-bucket.jpg" width="400" /><br />
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<i>NOT how I get my water!</i><br />
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Sometimes I get the sense people pity me for living where I do (Auburn) and doing what I do (full time, low (almost no!) pay volunteer work with <a href="http://www.americorps.gov/">Americorps</a>). And yet I feel lucky to have a decent place to go home to and to do work that I enjoy and enough (just barely!) to stay afloat. People seem to think I couldn't be happy with this situation, and yet strangely enough, I am!<br />
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I mean, I don't want to be a youth worker for the duration, for these kids are kinda wearing me out. And living closer to Seattle <i>would</i> be nice. But I think what I'm doing is right for right now. There are worse places I could be.<br />
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I still come home everyday from work, lie on my bed for a few restful minutes, then pick up my Ipod, get up and DANCE!<br />
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<img height="400" src="http://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/562567_10100173089039995_1006841735_n.jpg" width="300" /><br />
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<i>What's he doing...</i><br />
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So it goes! Be thankful folks!</div>
David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-52696977654781627782013-02-17T15:40:00.001-08:002013-02-17T15:52:22.672-08:00Torn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Lately as I think about career possibilities I am torn between two different lives: the life of Action, Success, and Achievement versus the life of Simplicity, Frugality, and Peace.<br />
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<u><b>The First Life</b></u><br />
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For the first life I imagine myself working in international politics as a diplomat or for an <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Non-governmental_organization">NGO</a> like the <a href="http://www.icrc.org/eng/">International Committee of the Red Cross</a>. Work would be done in faraway places to resolve issues of peace and conflict.<br />
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I would get pleasure from helping people and nations and from the admiration of others for my tireless efforts.<br />
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<img height="201" src="http://www.rnw.nl/data/files/imagecache/must_carry/images/lead/uruzgan650_0.jpg" width="400" /><br />
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<b><u>The Second Life</u></b><br />
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The second life has a less clear work aspect but the other parts of it are clearer. They are: living simply, frugally, peacefully. Writing and music and stillness. Being active and healthy and spending time away from cities in wilderness. Dancing whenever possible. And even having a family.<br />
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<img height="265" src="http://gregcookland.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/picBierstadtInTheMountains.jpg" width="400" /><br />
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But I ask myself, what kind of job would support and give meaning to this way of life? What is the quiet and calm job that could sustain myself and others?<br />
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A librarian?<br />
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A counselor?<br />
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A forest ranger? (Something I once wanted to be when I was a child).<br />
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And if I choose not to <i>identify</i> myself by my work doesn't this free up my choices considerably?<br />
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<b><u>Choices, Dreams</u></b><br />
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Sometimes I want to give up having to choose a path due to the overwhelming number of choices. And yet I feel strongly that everyone is responsible for their own life. All life, really.<br />
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Forgive me these dreams if they sound quixotic or outlandish; but know that they are close to me. And even if they are never realized they give a sort of sweetness for the daily grind.<br />
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May you find own dreams and desires, especially the ones you never knew you had; these two are some of mine.<br />
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David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-69026643473880177082012-11-04T21:18:00.000-08:002012-11-04T21:21:35.783-08:00Success<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One worry that persists in me despite my varied attempts to quell it is appearing successful in the eyes of others.<br />
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Part of my motivation for doing Peace Corps was to be admired for my noble choice and dedication. Shameless? Would-be humanitarians, like everybody else, have a need for attention and acceptance. <br />
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I remember when I received my acceptance letter from Peace Corps to go to Niger. I was so overjoyed, telling everyone I met! To some I must have appeared quite a lunatic. "You're EXCITED to leave the greatest country in the world for TWO YEARS to work for FREE in one of the hottest, poorest countries in the whole WORLD?" a few of them must have thought. "What the heck is wrong with you?!" Most were polite enough not to verbalize such thoughts and by so doing rain on my parade (I really don't have that many, parades that is).<br />
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A few people questioned my choice to go to a foreign country to help people when people are suffering right here in the US of A. This was a new perspective for me and I never knew quite how to adequately reply, and I still do not. Ready for a sweeping generalization? The conditions of impoverished Africans are much more pressing than those of impoverished Americans. Logically, aid would seem to be most merited by those most in need. Thus I went where I did!<br />
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Now I work with some American Poor through Americorps and I still get the sense people think I'm crazy for doing what I'm doing! "It's nice to help those less fortunate, but it's certainly not the most important thing."<br />
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Money, power, fame- these have evaded me, or I them. <br />
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What should I do to be a successful American? And does it matter if I am?</div>
David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-21725089225998964662012-09-09T22:50:00.001-07:002012-09-09T23:08:39.239-07:00Afloat, Adrift, Content<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been a little while since the last update. I think my life has gotten less exciting and blog-worthy since leaving the African continent. Many memories from Niger and Mali are in my head, some of which may form future blog posts, but those pieces float and dance in this mind, wispy elusive fairies, as yet uncaptured. I decided to update what I'm doing these post-Peace Corps days, where my head and heart are at, and where I'm headed. Won't be too long an entry, promise.<br />
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So after getting back to the U.S. I shortly dove head first into the job market. I had heard Peace Corps volunteers have a high employability, possibly from being adventuresome and self-assured and passionate. Well, many of my fellow PC friends have obtained respectable employment, so I guess it's probably true. As for me, I wasn't getting too many leads or calls back. I did however get a job offer to teach English in China, which I declined. As the days passed and my despair grew I decided to return to an old possibility I had once considered: Americorps. Like Peace Corps, but in America! And so I applied.<br />
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And I got the interview, and saw the place, and was offered the job, and I ACCEPTED! Technically it's not a "job" but full-time volunteer work with some benefits including a small amount of money to keep this boat afloat. I am working as a "Youth Tutor" at a Seattle non-profit organization called <a href="http://www.nhwa.org/">"Neighborhood House."</a> The possibility of one day working at a non-profit interests me so I am happy for the opportunity to volunteer for one. And I hope I can help some of the low-income kids at the public housing project where I will be located. I've done some social work in Africa and I am now doing some in America, which will be a different but hopefully also rewarding (spiritually, not monetarily!) endeavor. I will keep you posted.<br />
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So again I find myself trying to do good, not getting paid much for it, and wondering where this path is leading me. Sometimes I feel bad or guility for not making bathtubs full of dollars but I think that's just my culture's pounded-in message conflicting with my own values. Right now I am fine with living cheaply, doing something interesting and meaningful, "building the soul" (in a metaphorical sense, my more literal-minded readers!). Feel free to judge me or criticize me for my actions or beliefs and believe me I often scrutinize endleslly my own decisions and actions. We all wear our blinders, no? Having all the Answers is not something I claim; instead I try to be a cheerful and open wanderer, engaged and engaging. "Mind forg'd manacles" are what scare me the most!<br />
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Friends in Western Washington, we should hang out! "Hanging Out" for me these days often means "Staying In," doing the following: watching movies, cooking something, playing board games (new favorite: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rio-Grande-Games-RGG370-Dominion/dp/B001JQY6K4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1347255258&sr=8-1&keywords=dominion">Dominion</a>!), listening to great music (new favorite: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rFVHjZYoq4Q">LTJ Bukem</a>!), watching movies, conversing, hiking. Not super glamorous or excting to some, perhaps, but enough for me! And isn't it who you spend time with that counts, not what you're doing? Heck, most of my time in my village in Mali was spent sitting with people and talking and drinking tea and I loved that!<br />
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And I am still dancing nearly everyday.</div>
David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-61485897932185006252012-07-10T21:12:00.003-07:002013-03-12T22:14:15.495-07:00Moussa Dembele and his Four Wives<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Every Peace Corps Volunteer has a "transportation horror story," or indeed, several. "Horror" may be too strong a word, for these incidents are rarely (though occasionally) wounding or fatal. They certainly are frustrating! Due to how things are in the developing world, cars and engines are old, hardly running. They break down and no one comes to fix them. And Peace Corps volunteers mostly use public transportation, suffering these breakdowns. These incidents are frustrating. They test your patience like nothing else. In my time in Africa I was lucky to only experience one of these episodes. And, you guessed it, here it is: the time our van broke down but how I lived to tell the tale. And made a memory.<br />
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This particular day last February began with me biking 8 miles to my market town and going to look for a van headed south to the local Peace Corps hostel. I found one. The fare was equivalent to $6, quite a hefty fee to be honest, but I paid it, because sitting under a fan, getting online after a month off, and drinking something cold were all important factors in keeping me sane.<br />
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<img height="323" src="http://www.taxi-library.org/photos/bush-taxi.jpg" width="400" /><br />
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<i>Our van was ike this, but way more busted up: this "bush taxi" is from Cameroon, a country doing a bit better than Mali economically: <a href="http://hdr.undp.org/en/statistics/">Cameroon is ranked 150 on the UN Human Development Index, while Mali is 175.</a></i><br />
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After waiting a few hours for the van to fill up (bush taxis never leave unless they're filled way past capacity), we were off! The time: 3 PM. This trip which I've done before usually takes about 3 hours. The distance is only around 50 miles. So you know I was surprised when about 1.5 hours into our trek the engine stops and our driver coasts to the side of the dirt road. We are lucky because there is a village. The driver pops the hood, looks around the engine, and walks off into the village. The other passengers and I wait a little while, then <span style="background-color: white;">when he does not return</span><span style="background-color: white;"> unload ourselves. And the waiting begins.</span><br />
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We wait. And wait. And wait. And wait.<br />
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The driver comes and goes, trying new parts, fiddling around, resting. The passengers show little open impatience. They are used to things like this. I have enough water, and some beef jerky (thanks Dad!), and a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Enlightened-Heart-Anthology-Sacred/dp/006092053X/ref=sr_1_7?ie=UTF8&qid=1341976831&sr=8-7&keywords=stephen+mitchell">great book</a>, so I am pretty content. No cell phone reception, which is always worrisome. "We'll be going soon enough" I tell myself.<br />
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Nope.<br />
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Night falls around 7, and I am slightly concerned about the fate of our still inoperable vehicle. Also distressing is the fact that I have seen no other cars pass, cars which I would have paid to get on. But clearly that was not happening. So I walk into the village with a few others, to see if we can find a TV showing the Mali vs. Cote d'Ivoire soccer game. We find it, along with the entire male population of the village. I make a splash, being white and all, but people are more interested in the game. Which is fine with me!<br />
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The game ends close to 9. It's fully dark, I do not have unlimited water, no way to call anybody, and I am quite alone in a strange village. Thank god for all the language study I have been doing, because I am truly on my own. I begin thinking of contingency plans if we have to spend the night here at a stranger's house. This had never happened to me before, but I was pretty sure it would be acceptable, what with Malian hospitality being what it is. Still, it was not an option I was 100% comfortable with. So I'm prayin' on that car!<br />
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Still not going.<br />
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So, I wander around, find some of the passengers who have made a fire, and sit with them to wait it out. By this point I think word got out that a foreigner was in town, because many village kids started coming up to me at the fire. Mostly they just stared, but a few were brave enough to speak to me.<br />
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"Hey Toubab [Bambara for "white person"], what's your name?"<br />
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"Moussa Dembele," I reply. This is my Malian name, the same name as my village's chief, so the kid is quite surpr<span style="background-color: white;">ised at this foreigner with a local name.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">"Moussa Dembele! Where are you from?"</span><br />
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I say my village name.<br />
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"What do you do there?"<br />
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"Well, I am the village chief and I have four wives" I reply.<br />
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The kid is dumbfounded. He's looking at me with the strangest look, eyebrows raised, like, what is this thing, a ghost? How did it learn Bambara?<br />
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Meanwhile a bunch of other kids, maybe 20, have gathered at this point. I am so tired of waiting for the stupid van so I just start talking and making up stories about myself and joking and singing and dancing with the kids. We all loved it. I would be rather be silly and amused than bored and gloomy, you feel me?! This tomfoolery continues until around 11:30, when, thank the heavens, THE CAR STARTS WORKING! SEVEN HOURS IN THAT DAMN VILLAGE!<br />
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I walk with the other passengers towards the car and many of the kids follow. They question me: "When will you come back to our village?" "Will you remember us?" "Where are you really from?"<br />
"Can we fly in your air car sometime?" (I told them I fly airplanes...).<br />
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I'm in the car, it's starting up, it's going, and the kids are chasing after, calling my name. "MOUSSA DEMBELE!" MOUSSAAAAAAA!"<br />
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The car breaks down shortly, and continues to do so, off and on, as we travel through the night. Many hours later, at 7 AM, exhausted, having slept only a few bumpy hours, I reach my destination, which is a mere 50 miles away from where we left. The trip, 3PM to 7AM, took 16 hours. Only in Africa.<br />
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I never made it back to that village and cannot even recall its name. But a few hours there talking and joking with kids who I would never see again greatly comforted my exhausted spirit. I wonder if some of those kids ever talk about the mysterious white stranger who spoke their language and who wanted to talk to them. Who did not mind looking silly. A benevolent apparition, come from a strange faraway place, come only for a brief moment and then quickly gone, into the night and the dark.<br />
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One of my favorite memories from Mali.<br />
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David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-53836569263986769692012-06-25T20:17:00.001-07:002012-06-25T20:17:16.360-07:00We want what we do not Want: Reflections on Service<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"Doing Peace Corps was when I felt most alive."<br />
-random Peace Corps Volunteer<br />
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Due to the nature of my current occupation (namely, finding one...), I find myself, like in Africa, with much unstrucutred time in which my restless thoughts scurry off to all corners of Everywhere. Work, the economy, society, American culture, are some of those places. But naturally my mind often flees back to Niger and Mali. The process of processing experiences like that is no quick thing, as I try to make sense of so much I lived through. I'm reminded of a quote by Kierkegaard: "Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards." I know I will be puzzling and working through my time in Africa for years. Which is great! Only such a rich experience would provide that. In this post, however, I want to muse a little on where I am at now, especially with regards to "service." If the idea of wondering about why people volunteer, and how it changes both themselves and who they work with, interests you, then kindly read on!<br />
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First, I want to say just a little about my motivations for joining Peace Corps. They are not entirely noble and selfless, which I am coming to believe is true of many who do such work (and nearly all human actions, but that's a post for another day). First, as a liberal arts major with no hot job prospects (see: first sentence of this post) Peace Corps seemed like a reasonable alternative compared with getting into the "job market." Second, possibly from my religious background, which included a lot of "community service," I did (and still do!) have a desire to help people. Thirdly, and the strongest of my motivations, was the need to feel important and necessary. There it is. The really selfish reason! I went halfway around the world to prove to people how important I was, that I mattered. (And I write this post in another such attempt at attention. The ego loves the spotlight!)<br />
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Of course when I got to Niger everything I had thought it was going to be was catastrophically turned upside down. Totally. Nothing was as I had thought it would be. Including the work I was doing! As an "education volunteer" teaching seemed like a logical guess as to what we would be doing. But oh this was not so. Volunteers have roles as facilitators, mentors, cheerleaders. We try to get our community members to work together to solve their own problems. We provide technical advice and support, based on our education and experiences. That descrpition does not romanticize the work, and I hope those descrpitions do not dimish it: I like to think volunteers do get some really cool work done. It's just different than they thought it would be, in that mostly we encourage others to do work rather than doing their jobs for them.<br />
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I think I am getting off track. Well, I mentioned how our advice-giving and leading of committees is a big part of what we do. The other part, equally big, is cultural exchange. And this is the really cool part about Peace Corps service: the immersion in a foreign culture and the sharing of our own. It's what makes Peace Corps a unique program. There are many many aid groups working in developing countries to better impoverished nations. But how many organizations place their workers at the grassroots level, in the village, to live close to the level of those they have come to help? I tell you, not many! Peace Corps volunteers learn the local langauge, take a local name, wear local clothes, eat local food (with care package food supplementing, on the side...), dance like maniacs at weddings (I can only speak for myself...but I assume it's common), attend funerals, everything. Heck, some volunteers even marry locals!<br />
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So we did Peace Corps to be a Hero, to change the world. We got to our country and were shocked at everything, especially what we were supposed to be doing there. We adjust, most of us. We live close to the local level (but, and it's important to note this, not at, what with our medicine, huge living allowances, our guaranteed trip home, and so on). We eat weird food, we get sick. Even make a friend or two! We completely embarrass ourselves in front of the locals in a variety of interesting ways. We miss home and friends and food and just familiar things. The strangeness fascinates us, then terrifies us, and then it eventually bores us. So why do we stay?<br />
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Why do we stay?<br />
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To try and put a little good into the world. To learn about a new culture the best way possible. To share our American culture and set the record straight. To grow.<br />
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For that's one of the great things about service: you get what you give. By giving your time and energy for no material reward you are put into places you have never been, do things you have never done, and learn things you never even knew that you did not know.<br />
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Yes it is hard to explain our motivations. Yes "ourselves" is really our first priority. But we can strive for something greater than just our own personal happiness. And the great thing about service- of doing things for others without expecting anything in return- without expecting love, appreciation, gratitude, or even understanding of our efforts- service lets us be better than we are in an attempt to get beyond ourselves and connect with other lives, a reminder that no one is alone, and only together can we be "ever closer to what the Dreamer in the dark intended before the dust arose and walked" (Loren Eiseley, "The Hidden Teacher).<br />
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And that is what Peace Corps taught me.<br />
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<br /></div>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-6808760901339839862012-06-25T11:07:00.001-07:002012-06-25T11:07:16.273-07:00Do you see what I see?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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</div>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-5120893924636008012012-06-07T20:46:00.005-07:002012-06-08T08:56:05.384-07:00All Cowboys Hang Up Their Saddles One Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Back in the USA. Twice have I gone out into the world to do good and twice have I been sent back early. Now where does my compass point???<br />
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I have tentatively began looking for jobs, but so far the search has been...unproductive. Furthermore, nothing I've seen so far seems to match up to my Peace Corps experiences in Niger and Mali. In Peace Corps the work feels so important, so necessary, so vital, that even though it's hard, we give so much to it. Teaching a class, leading a health training for mothers, repairing water pumps with the village sanitation committees (shout out to PC Mali Wat/San folks!)- the best! Finding purpose in post Peace Corps work seems to be a challenge for many former volunteers. I am sure something will come, eventually...</div>
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Enough of me! Do you know how Mali is doing? I don't know if you have been following the news about Mali since the coup, and I don't really want to summarize everything here. However, I can say a few words. The north of Mali, which has been taken over and declared a new state (Azawad, currently not recognized by a single international body), has been put into a <a href="http://www.amnesty.org/en/news/mali-s-worst-human-rights-situation-50-years-2012-05-15">humanatarian crisis</a>. In the capital, Bamako, there are still many uncertainities regarding the interim governemnt, the holding of elections (all but impossible to do with the North how it is), the role of the millitary junta in the government, the possible deployment of 3,000 to 5,000 troops from ECOWAS (Economic Community of West African States) to Mali. Things are far from resolved in Mali, politcally, and on top of that, all signs (drought, poor harvest) point towards a<a href="http://www.aljazeera.com/news/africa/2012/03/201239114636153756.html"> famine this year in the Sahel region</a> (Mauritania, Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger, Chad). Is there no end?</div>
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Okay, so people are suffering greatly in Mali, West Africa. And with Mali being in the news so frequently, people are only getting one side of the story- the coup and the rebellion in the North, portraying Mali as just another dysfunctional war fraught country, a potential "failed state." The richness of Malian culture and amazing fortitude of the Malian people are ignored. The joking, the resolute acceptance of life's difficulties, the strength, the dancing, the henna, the laughter, the hospitality (especially this!), the warmth of Mali's people- these do not make news headlines. And yet they are what we volunteers saw everyday, why our stay in Mali was not a prison term but an opportunity to to give and receive, to teach but also to learn. To love. 2 my fellow Niger volunteers now serving in Rwanda and Kenya have told me the people in their countries are not this friendly or open. Here's a great <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nEankjrs9DE&sns=fb">video</a> which has so many of our beloved Malian friends just living their lives.</div>
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I still have much to say (probably too much), and am wondering if I will continue this blog since my Peace Corps service has ended. I think I should probably close it, but first I will get a few more entries out. Maybe my favorite pictures from Mali will show up here. I might start a new blog and write about stuff which interest me- art, poetry, international affairs, religion (but would anyone read it...). I have to say, writing this blog, and even knowing that a few people have read it, has been rewarding. Though I can get kinda gloomy these days I am still dancing, still reading poetry, spending great time with friends and family, and in my better moments feel grateful for what I lived and saw in Niger and Mali. Times of transition are difficult because of the inherent uncertainity...we crave answers, order, direction, signs and portents...</div>
</div>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-61302523910714693552012-04-22T05:38:00.003-07:002012-06-08T09:10:28.545-07:00Peace Corps Mali Evacuated<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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[<i>Note: I wrote this entry about a week ago, and a few things in it have changed since then. But I would like to post it anyways, mostly unrevised, to show at where I was.]</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 100%;">The rebels control the North, the military has seized power, the international community has cut off aid, bordering countries have closed borders and declared a trade embargo, and, before the political catastrophe, poor harvests have threatened famine in villages across Mali. Things fall apart, indeed. How did this this happen, and so quickly? Well, other folks can better explain how and why the events of the last few weeks occurred, and what is yet to come for Mali (this is the one I follow: </span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><a href="http://bamakobruce.wordpress.com/">bamakobruce.wordpress.com</a></span><span style="font-size: 100%;">). For better or worse this blog is made up of my own experiences and thoughts and impressions, and not a journalistic account of Mali. Accordingly, I want to write about where I’m at, how this experience has affected me, and where I’m headed. I know that focusing on and privileging my own thoughts and ideas seems selfish, compared with what Malian are suffering now, but I’ve made this blog as a record of my own experience, so I will stick to that.</span><br />
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Soon the current Peace Corps Mali volunteers will officially close their service with Mali in an undisclosed location. This means a grueling mount of paperwork, medical tests, interviews, and figuring out the future. On top of that, volunteers are reeling from this rupture in their lives: their tearing away from their (often) beloved villages, their friends and fellow Peace Corps volunteers, the Peace Corps experience, and, it has to be said, their JOBS. A stressful time, no? I would be lying if I said that volunteers are not going to solace their pain in a variety of interesting and enjoyable activities in the coming days…<br />
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Details are not yet known, but word is that Mali volunteers MAY POSSIBLLY be able to finish their Peace Corps service in a new country. So what about me, who has done 6 months in Niger before being evacuated, and 10 months in Mali before being evacuated a second time? Should I do Peace Corps a <i>third </i>time? Am I so desperate to be the heroic and selfless do-gooder that I will scheme and bribe and swindle my way however I can into a 3<sup>rd</sup> post? Are my intentions less than noble, more concerned with my own righteousness than truly helping those in need? Is this very blog my way of saying to the world “I’m better, nobler, more selfless, just an overall better person” than the rest? Can there be humanitarians who do not have giant egos? <br />
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I’m reminded of an interview question that the Red Cross is rumored to ask interviewees: “What are you running from?” In other words, why do you want to leave your life of comfort and ease to risk yourself in dangerous work helping others? What do you want?<o:p></o:p><br />
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<o:p> </o:p><span style="font-size: 100%;">Overall, PC Mali volunteers are tired, hell fatigued, weary, stressed, uncertain, and sad. We are mourning. Most of us have put great time in to villages. We have learned Bambara, adapted to a new culture (never easy or simple), been painfully far from home, tried to do good work despite barriers of culture and language. The human relationships were planted and blossoming; the roots were deep, flowers were coming; but now, now the flowers fall, the leaves drift away, everything fails but for Memory.</span></div>
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However, <a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=6vQ2WZQJoQ8C&output=html">as has been said before, they live on in us, these many lives</a>. They exist in the cinemas of the mind, always playing, never ending, never completed. Some of my films include:<o:p></o:p></div>
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-Macky, my 11-year old always smiling host brother, whose favorite activity was throwing rocks at<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adansonia"> baobab trees</a> to get the high-up fruit to fall to earth. And then asking me, with a sad puppy-dog face, to give him sugar for his baobab smoothie (contents: baobab fruit, water or milk, peanut butter, sugar).<o:p></o:p></div>
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-Harouna, my host dad, perpetually sick and sleepy, and FORGETFUL, instantly sleeping after every meal, always hinting at me to give him medicine, and then one day, after dinner, presenting me with an interesting offer: a wife and a plot of land to live in the village. Not sure if he was serious…especially because I was never sure if he liked me all that much.<o:p></o:p></div>
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-Ma, my host mom, short and round but pretty, with an enormous smile, always laughing, who helped me greatly in my quest to speak Bambara. <o:p></o:p></div>
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-Seydou, my best friend in village. 23 years old, smart, motivated and sincere, but unable to finish high school due to the death of his father and the need to become head of the family. He was always genuine with me, the way he explained so much of the village and villagers to me, demystifying so many mysteries. I miss him already.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Okay, enough sentinemental crap, since I personally believe that we never are so overwhelmed by ONE sole emotion to not feel the others, so let’s change the tone a bit, shall we? We volunteers had a crazy/wild dance party a few nights ago and we lit the place ON FIRE. IT WAS BURNING UP! We were dancing so hard for so long, it was just out of control. We sweated and sweated and sweated. IT WAS AWESOME! Part of it was to fight the stress and worry and fatigue. Part of it is what Yeats was talking about when he wrote “Hamlet and Lear and gay,” that it’s better to experience any emotion and to grow from it, that even in moments of pain, times of tragedy, we still can feel joy and beauty and love. Maybe.<o:p></o:p><br />
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I do not know where next I am headed, and though that uncertainity is stressful, it is also slightly liberating. I am free to do what I want. I do know that I dread returning to normal American life after the thrill ride that Africa has been. It is one bug bite that will not get better. Living abroad has given me so much. Am I greedy for wanting more of these experiences? Will I wander as the mariner, telling my tale to all who would listen, desperately? I know one day I will will return to my 2nd home.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-56847466803462401512012-04-01T04:53:00.007-07:002012-04-01T06:38:12.095-07:00Rebellion, Coup d'etat, Cabin Fever- and a Wedding!Conufsion. Uncertainity. Doubt. Worry. These are all the feelings that we Peace Corps volunteers and many Malians have been experiencing in the last week, since the <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/23/world/africa/mali-coup-france-calls-for-elections.html?_r=1&scp=6&sq=Mali&st=cse">millitary seized power and the president fled</a>. Also equally disconcerting is the<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-17576725"> rebellion by the Touaregs in the North of Mali, who want to establish their own state</a>. It is truly a whirlwind of events, and many of us, myself included, long to be back in village, in the gentle pace of things. But that is not to be, not yet at least!<div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div>We have been grouped together at regional hostels to outwait the current storm. Today is the 8th day here and the whole situation is really starting to get to us. Living in a constant state of uncertainty is wearing on the spirit. So much free time leads to doleful reflections, which is why we are trying to keep occupied. We painted a map of Mali which does not look half bad. Also, I re-read <i>King Lear</i>, naturally, concerned as I am with themes of universal CHAOS and knowledge through suffering. I read it in the hope of purging unhealthy emotions, of course. Don't know if it worked.</div><div><br /></div><div>This whole situation has some added resonance for me personally, as last January I was serving in Niger <a href="http://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.media.press.view&news_id=1691">when that program was closed due to security concerns</a>. That whole process of leaving was painful, and I cannot fathom experiencing it again. I dearly hope that this current political situation resolves itself, that people make the right decisions and that life can return to normal. But this is not often the case, is it? And hope not only sustains but destroys as well...</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, enough ranting and emoting. I'll say a few words about village life. Due to lack of rains and a resulting poor harvest most of the men of my village and even some women have gone elsewhere to find paying work. Many have gone to the gold mines in Senegal. The result is the village is a little lonely, especially as most of my fellow young men have gone away. But the situations is really quite desperate this year, forcing them to leave. Hopefully they may find some good paying work, as they really do need the money.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had an interesting cultural experience, so I guess I should share with you, my Reader! I had the privilege to attend a wedding, which lasted for 3 days. Afterwards I wrote a handwritten journal about it in village and now I will copy that entry for you here:</div><div><br /></div><div>"March 16, 2012- 11:21 PM. [Name of my village], Mali.</div><div><br /></div><div>Hello! I have so much to tell! Where even do I begin? Well, I just spent 3 days at a wedding. It was like this:</div><div><br /></div><div>-I spent the 3 days mostly with the groom and many young men around my age sitting in a room at the groom's father's house.</div><div>-The groom and young men were well-dressed in clean new collared shirts and slacks. As was I.</div><div>-We feasted heartily (no small thing in a poor village). We dined on goat and a spicy rice dish and cous cous with peanut butter sauce and bread and coffee and candies and more.</div><div>-We danced! First, some traditional drummers came, and later we listened to current pop music. </div><div>-Much tea was brewed. Some cigarettes were smoked.</div><div>-Prayers and blessings and speeches were spoken from time to time.</div><div>-My good friend Seydou went to the window and blew a horn made of animal bone at every meal time, as a signal to the other young men that 'It's eatin' time!'</div><div>-Many<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kola_nut"> kola nuts</a> were distributed, usually in conjunction with speeches and blessings. Kola nuts are very important here, as signs of respect.</div><div>-The tone of the wedding was mostly jovial, with a few tense moments. (Seydou explained to me later that a few traditional customs had not been respected, which led to some heated debates).</div><div>-A group of young women, corresponding in age to our group, would come to the room we were staying in and greet us, sit with us, chat, and dance. They wore fancy colorful dresses, had their hair covered, and wore makeup and henna. Some were wearing jewelry, earring and bracelets.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I was a part of it all, even though I didn't catch everything that was said. Woo!</div><div><br /></div><div>Bakari Danyogo and Oumou Dembele, may your marriage truly endure and prosper.</div><div><br /></div><div>LIVE AND LOVE BABY!"</div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, entry done! Well, at least the parts that I want to share... Good bye for now. Here's the latest (and positive!) news on Mali:</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.aljazeera.com/news/africa/2012/04/20124181943166936.html">http://www.aljazeera.com/news/africa/2012/04/20124181943166936.html</a> </div>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-58481513511886071552012-02-09T04:38:00.001-08:002012-02-09T05:43:31.693-08:00Do you wonder what I do here? And what it's like?Hey all. I didn't get online in January, as I was trying to spend a lot of time in my village. Bit I have much to tell! In this entry I want to: describe what my village looks like; describe an average day; and detail some tidbits of life here.<div><br /></div><div><u>What My Village Looks Like</u></div><div><br /></div><div>So, my village is a collection of mud huts, with a few large cement houses (which are often financed by family members who have found work abroad, perhaps in France or Spain). The mud huts have thatched hut roofs (which do not always keep the rain out so well...). There are a series of fences made of tree branches lining certain village streets and most family's households, though not every concession is so ensconced. And it seems that many of the fences have been burned for firewood (an endless need!) or been knocked down by wandering animals. Oh, as to these roaming animals they consist of goats, sheep, donkeys, and they roam endlessly looking for food. And sometimes they run, like the donkeys, who sometime get it into their heads to chase other donkeys and in so doing create a great ruckus. Charging donkeys are surprisingly alarming. Oh yeah, the streets are all dirt, which means that now in the dry season an ungodly amount of dirt gets blown around everywhere, including my face. Boo.</div><div><br /></div><div><u>What My Day is Like</u><br /><div><br /></div><div>6:30 AM- Wake up. Lie in Bed.</div><div><br /></div><div>6:45-8:00 AM- Exit my hut, wash my face, feed my dog, boil water for coffee on my gas stove, sit and wonder what the day will bring, listen to classical music on my Ipod.</div><div><br /></div><div>8:00 AM- Eat the corn or millet porridge that one of my host siblings has brought me, give a little to my dog, get presentable clothes on (important here in Mali as a sign of respect), get my bag ready, put my solar panel on my roof, and go to school.</div><div><br /></div><div>8:15 AM - 12:oo PM. Go to the one primary school and try to do something productive. Sometimes I may sub for a class; other times observe other teachers; and sometimes just study language or other work-related manuals.</div><div><br /></div><div>12:oo PM - 3:00 PM. Walk home from school with host family siblings. Eat lunch, usually clumpy rice porridge with either green leaf or peanut butter sauce, with the male members of my host family, out of one big bowl with our right hands. After, I don't really do a whole lot, this being the hottest time of day and all. Lately I've been sitting under my hanger in front of my hut, in the shade, reading (current book: The Poisonwood Bible) while my dog sits near me. This is a lazy time due to the HEAT.</div><div><br /></div><div>3:oo PM - 5:oo PM. Return to school to try and be productive, and help out where I can. </div><div><br /></div><div>5:oo PM- 7:00 PM. Return home, heat water for bucket bath. Take bucket bath (pour water on myself). Feel clean. Cook a light dinner for myself, which does wonders for my mood. Malian food in the bush is the same thing day after day, so this variety is needed. Tidy up my huts, of which I have two.</div><div><br /></div><div>7:00-7:30 PM- Go next door to my host family's house to have dinner. Sit and chat with my host family. </div><div><br /></div><div>7:30 - 10:30 PM. Social time! The day's work being done, and dinner eaten, and the unbearable heat having become dissipated, it is time to wander around my village, sitting and chatting and drinking tea with my villagers. I find that I am most talkative in Bambara in the nighttime. I've pondered why this is so, and have come up with a few reasons: it's dark so I stand out less; it's dark so I am not intimidated by people's stares; and I feel relaxed at night, work being done and all. As my language skills increase so do my conversations, and comfort.</div><div><br /></div><div>10:30 PM- break the news to whomever I'm sitting with that I must unfortunately go back to my hut to sleep. Floss, brush, PJs, read a little, then BED.</div><div><br /></div><div>That's an average day. Of course, this routine is often interrupted, especially by social events, such as baptisms (Muslim), marriages, funerals, village meetings, meetings with the Woman's Microfinance Group, and so on.</div><div><br /></div><div><u>Tidbits:</u></div><div><br /></div><div>-Among the little boys (and some teenagers) the newest craze here is...MARBLES. Yes, the kids in my village love playing marbles day in and day out, as opposed to studying, chores etc. Everywhere that I go see boys standing or sitting in the sand (where else would they play?) playing or spectating to this sport. This just strikes me as both funny and quaint.The kids really get into it too!</div><div><br /></div><div>-One day, sitting with some of my friends under a tree doing nothing but watching people walk by I saw an amusing sight. One of my host brothers, Sada (aged 12), had just come into view. But not walking, oh no: he was riding a dirty old donkey. So, this bareback barefoot African kid is riding a bareback donkey, ambling ever so slowly on the dusty dirty villages streets and get this: he had the biggest GRIN on his face, like he had just won the lottery. But no, he was just riding a donkey through a village. I saw this and I just wanted to laugh so hard. But it also filled me with joy. I ask you, how much do we really need to be happy? Sada seems to know.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>-Humor. I've lately realized that most of my villagers are joking with each other in most of what they say. It has taken a while for my language skills to get good enough to understand this, as it can be subtle. Funny or goofy things are often said with a straight face in a normal tone. And sometimes the jokes can even be quite raunchy! It seems that humor is very necessary for survival here.</div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, I've emptied out my thoughts. Perhaps they will interest you. Let me know!</div>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-53448150835647508862011-12-25T08:36:00.000-08:002011-12-25T09:08:35.963-08:00Musings and PortraitsWhere do I begin? Of all the many thing I could tell you, of the all the miraculous and horrible sights and sounds of each day here, what do you want to know? And what do I want (or am able) to tell to you?<div><br /></div><div>In village I write often in my journals. I write about my life here, the lives of the villagers, thoughts and musings, poems. Maps and drawings somehow seem to find their way into my journals as well. I know why I write: to better understand, to make a record, to entertain. To make things here, dreamy and unreal as they sometimes seem, more real.</div><div><br /></div><div>No matter where I go or what I do I will always write.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ok, onto the actual entry. Our 2nd training is complete and I have been back in my village, trying out some of what we learned. I have made an improved cookstove, been talking to people about and planting Moringa Trees, am learning how to make soap (so I can teach people in my village), and more. Work here is slow, but...still good. </div><div><br /></div><div>The longer I have been in my village the more I feel a part of it. I am gaining a deeper knowledge, learning things about the workings of my village that are not immediately apparent. And it feels good! Along with this my language skills have kept improving, though, like most other volunteers here, I never feel I'm as good as I could be. We always want to be better than we are! The mind drives ever onward in its search for more and new and better. Perhaps that is its nature. Sometimes our drive energizes, but other times it wearies.</div><div><br /></div><div>What about the people in my village, do you want to know who they are? Here are a few:</div><div><br /></div><div>-Haoua, the widowed grandmother who's always feisty and often in her garden.</div><div><br /></div><div>-Moussa, the 8-year old orphan with the great imagination (he usually pretends to be driving a motorcycle) but the visible sense of loneliness. Also, he never seems to remember to wear his worn-down plastic sandals!</div><div><br /></div><div>-Moussa, the village chief, so old that his daily task involves wandering around the village greeting people and then sitting under a tree for a while.</div><div><br /></div><div>-Habibou, the old blind patriarch, speaking to me much more than I can understand, perhaps with the unspoken wisdom that someday the flow of sounds will turn into words in my mind.</div><div><br /></div><div>-Maimouni, never ceasing her woman's work- hauling water, cooking, cleaning clothes, going to the fields, making brooms, sweeping the family concession. This woman never rests, even at night!</div><div><br /></div><div>-Kunba, the middle-aged childless woman who lives alone, and whose husband has taken another wife. She lives near me and often brings me samples of what she's been cooking (Somebody loves us all). She is possibly one of the shiest, most withdrawn people I've ever known. And yet she is always so kind.</div><div><br /></div><div>-Kenba, the old man, a widower, whose kids are grown and gone, who always prays, smokes, and goes to the fields, day after day. </div><div><br /></div><div>-Mamadou, motorcyle mechanic and general repair man, with 6 (!) kids and wife and mother to support, with little means who can be real tough, but also can be heartfelt and funny.</div><div><br /></div><div>These are a few of the many people that I am beginning to know so well. Writing this has moved me, realizing my connections, so strong already, from these people who have welcomed me into their village and life. When I no longer see them I know it will hurt. Sometimes I imagine if, for whatever reason, I had to leave early, and how hard and painful that would be.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, it's Christmas, and I'm with my Peace Corps friends, and a fancy Italian restaurant is calling our names, so I had better be going. I hope you are all doing well, as I always hope, and that if you are not, then that you will be doing better soon! Keep flowing and don't freeze; stay open, not closed; dance joyously, don't sit awkwardly; laugh when it feels right and cry when it feels right; read poems, sing songs, garden your gardens, and do everything that builds the soul. Peace!</div><div><br /></div>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-31378150757562405732011-11-10T08:03:00.000-08:002012-06-08T09:58:45.753-07:00I Give You My Love More Precious Than Money<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am walking through a forest on a thin dirt trail. Tired and hungry and sweaty I eagerly await arrival at our house on the river, among the trees. I keep walking and then I see the large round huts, somewhat in dissarry, and the old chain fence, and none of it beautiful, but seeing it was still pretty good to me.<br />
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I open the old screen door, walk inside, put my heavy backpack down, ease into the uncomfortable couch, and breathe, deeply and focused. "3 months! I've done 3 months!" I think to myself. For, I have finished the first 3 months of Peace Corps service in Mali, and these beginning months are often said to be the hardest. One is new, a stranger, a foreigner, one can barely speak the language. From this point on things are supposed to get easier.</div>
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Now we are at our 2nd (and final) round of training. The first round of training was focused on learning language and Malian culture; this training is "technical training," that is, it's about practical ways that us education volunteers can work to improve our communities. </div>
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There is so much I want to say about these last 3 months in village. The people and their stories, so many, all of them interesting. The thousand myriad details of the slow life in a rural village in West Africa. The essential human dramas, problems, hopes and fears, laughters, cries- all of them so vibrant and clear, to those who would look. I feel very much as a member in my humble community, and happy for this. I know: who can fix electronics, which women are midwives; who cooks the best; who wants to joke with me and conversely who wants to actually talk with me about things that matter; who has a land dispute with another neighbor; who's been to Mecca; and a thousand or more little details of life here, concealed slightly beneath the surface. Dig, dig.</div>
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I feel a connection to all of them, and all of you, and all of It. Do you feel it as well? The pulsing, entangled web of life, where nothing exists alone. If you want to know more read the following: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Leaves-Grass-Original-Walt-Whitman/dp/1449505716/ref=sr_1_7?ie=UTF8&qid=1321383291&sr=8-7"><em>Leaves of Grass</em> [1855 Edition]by Walt Whitman</a>; <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Siddhartha-Hermann-Hesse/dp/0553208845/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1321383444&sr=1-2"><em>Siddartha</em> by Herman Hesse</a>; and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Book-Taboo-Against-Knowing-Who/dp/0679723005/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1321383510&sr=1-1"><em>The Book: On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are</em> by Alan Watts</a>. These books have given me some of my deepest contentment and peace and any wisdom about life I might somehow have obtained, and I recommend them to all of you.</div>
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During these last 3 months I have: danced; sang; cooked; farmed; written; read; had days of joy and days of pain; learned; taught; biked; ran; questioned everything that I find in me and everything I see outside of me; and grown. I feel blessed for the opportunities, the intensity, the vibrancy of this somewhat-unique experience that I have pulled from the tree of the universe. May you find similar experiences in all your days, wherever you find yourself, for they wait, no matter where you are. Smile and dance, my friends. Peace to you!</div>
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</div>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-37658642848646031492011-09-26T13:09:00.000-07:002011-09-26T14:14:35.440-07:002 Months in The BushHey my family and friends (those I know and have yet to know), how are you all? I have made it in to a Peace Corps hostel, relaxing a few days away from village life. 2 months in my village have passed, and life there goes pretty well. Each day in village there are so many strange, wondrous, miraculous, terrible, or horrible things I want to tell you all, and now that I'm here, able to share, I can't remember it all! But, I will try. What follows are some of the goings-on of the village I am currently living in.<div><br /></div><div>All of my villagers are farmers, and now is harvest season, which means for most of the day most of my villagers are out in the fields. What are they farming?, you ask? Out here, people farm: peanuts (so many!), millet, corn, sorghum, beans, and some rice. It's all farming by hand here, of course, and accordingly, it's exhausting! I've gone out with my villagers a few times to try farming, but they won't let me do more than a little work. Even that has been hard on me! Hunched over, in full view of the beating sun, dropping seeds into the earth or hacking away weeds- the life of so many on this earth.</div><div><br /></div><div>My village is small, and I feel like I know most everyone's names. I have a journal where I write down people's names and what they do, or special characteristics about them. Sample entry: "M. Dembele, 25, dances well, want to go to America to do farming." This is especially usefully to me as I look for motivated villagers with whom I can perhaps do some projects with. Most of our work here is done together with Malian counterparts, for a variety of reasons. Our counterparts can help to translate across the borders of Language and Culture as we work on projects to help people make better choices.</div><div><br /></div><div>The kids here are great! Sometime I think I learn so much language from chatting with them, because I'm not afraid to sound silly in front of them. Kids are very curious about me, of course, being the only foreigner here in village. Many babies and toddlers still wail at the sight of me, and their parents explain that "They've never seen a white person before!" I'm looking forward to school starting so I can do some good work at the 1 primary school in my village.</div><div><br /></div><div>Food is rough out here, I gotta say. It's mostly cereals like rice or millet porridge with basic leaf sauces. No meat, no fruits, no vegetables. Occasionally there are eggs. Many of the kids here are malnourished. It gets me down, of course.</div><div><br /></div><div>As for me, I am doing well! Using my solar charger to power my Ipod, going crazy in a flurry of movement at village dance parties of which there are many, reading lots of poetry, writing a lot in my journals, just spending time with my villagers to see how they live, biking through rough trails to a Market, climbing a large hill to get cell phone reception, eating millet porridge and leaf sauce with my hands, building hand-washing stations, being tutored in Bambara and Malinke, and STAYING HEALTHY! I have been so healthy here, knock on wood, which has been wonderful. After Niger I no longer take being healthy for granted.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh yeah, there was a snake. A SNAKE! One night, sitting and making tea with my host brothers, we heard a Commotion. Curious, we got up and went over, cautiously. And there it was! A 3-foot long, black snake, and one my villagers trying to kill it with a stick! And kill it he did. That snake was pretty huge though. Freaky!</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, that's all for now. Be well all! Know that you are all in my heart and mind, and sometimes the distance is hard, but I know it is good and right that I am here now, and I know someday again I will be home. But for now I am in a small village in Mali fighting the good fight against the Universe's entropy and decay! Wish me well!</div><div><br /></div>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-80718377252434206292011-07-16T13:28:00.000-07:002012-07-05T14:14:34.744-07:00Site Visit; Or, Hi, I'm David Metting and I live in The Bush<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hey all, I am back from spending a few days at my village, my home for the next 2 years (if God wills it). Wow. It is off the beaten path...way off! My village is 12K from a larger town, and to get to my village there are in general 2 options:<br />
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2) Donkey Cart</div>
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The local mayor 12K away has a car, if a car is ever needed. So, after I bike or donkey cart to my village, what's it like? It's small collection of mud huts with thatch roofs. No electricity. 1 pump and a few wells provide the village with water. I've heard 2,000 people are living here but that seems high, but maybe that number includes some outlying villages. Anyways, my village would probably fit onto a football field, which means I will come to know everyone. Which is what I wanted and specifically asked for! In Niger I lived in a larger town, which was good, and now I want to try something else. </div>
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My house consists of 2 cement huts with thatched roofs, a little walled courtyard, and in the corner a pit latrine. The place is definitely cozy. But inside the huts it's real nice: cement floors, new screens, shutters that lock, and to top it off the walls are even painted with happy hippos. And the roof doesn't leak, as I discovered from an unannounced rain storm one evening. Home sweet home!</div>
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What else? Well, food will be limited. Lots of rice and millet. For protein it'll be eggs, peanut butter, and nuts. There just isn't that much food available in the bush! However, the market 12K away from me has all kinds of food: tomatoes, onions, carrots, spices, ginger, goat meat, chickens, yogurt, milk (though unpasteurized...), imported cookies and crackers. I will probably be biking in each week to pick up food. </div>
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As for work, there are 2 schools in my village: a kindergarten and an elementary school. I will be assisting at these schools, possibly doing the following: working with teachers (though probably not full-on teaching), doing health and nutrition presentation with students, doing extracurricular activities. Basically I will go to school and see what they want, what I can give, and make something work. If I can give some of my energy and spirit then school can maybe be a little bit better for the kids here. I try not to have too much self-importance about my work. I know that I can do some cools projects and share life with my villagers and those will be good.</div>
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The villagers whom I met (all of them pretty much) were very welcoming to me. I will be the first volunteer their village has received. I'm sure their stories will begin to unfold the more time I spend there. I will write them here, you will see.</div>
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If all that seems too positive, here's some less bright events of recent note: terrible dirt roads in ancient mini-vans, throwing up the entire contents of my stomach into a pit latrine (and watching the roaches eat it), and getting hassled by a solider at a security check point who didn't think my Peace Corps ID was legit. Luckily his commanding officer knew Peace Corps was legit and he happily sent me on my merry way. So, those are some bummer points. Not really that bad, honestly. Whenever I get discouraged being here I try to remind myself of why I wanted to do volunteer work abroad. The reasons are still there, and strong.</div>
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That's it! It's a different world out here, I swear. Part of my purpose in having this blog is trying to share the reality I see here, as it's so different from back in The States. Sometimes I don't know if it's possible to convey life here, but I will still try!</div>
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I miss family and friends but know they are really not far, they are with me. Still, drop me a line people! I will greatly appreciate any letters or care packages you happen to send my way! Food is key- Protein powder, beef jerky, cliff bars, etc. </div>
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Okay, I want to do some book talk before I go. I've been reading 2 awesome books, not finished, but I already want to recommend them. The 1st is <i>Hyperion</i>, by Dan Simmons, which is a well-written Science Fiction novel set about 800 years in the future, with much crazy awesomeness happening: time distortions, advanced spaceflight technology, mysterious planets, and the continuing dilemma of being human, with all its joys and sorrows. Great speculation of what the future may hold, which I why I love Science Fiction. Check it out!</div>
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The 2nd book is <i>The Star Thrower</i>, by Loren Eiseley. This book is a collection of essays about science, nature, and the history of humanity, and the essays are poetic and profound. Eiseley was definitely one of the most poetical scientists ever, and his ideas about humanity's place in the universe are well-worth pondering. One of his main beliefs is humanity's need for the 2 qualities of Compassion and Wonder. So, read him!</div>
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Okay then, this is David signing off. Be well, all of you. You (We) are the All, the Every, the Universe; smile accordingly, and dance!</div>
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</div>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-8364374242033545212011-06-26T14:35:00.000-07:002011-06-27T14:52:45.656-07:00My First 3 Weeks With a Malian FamilyWoo! Hello everyone. I recently got back from 3 weeks living with my Malian host family. Who are wonderful! All of us trainees are spending a few days together for technical training, medical sessions, and cross culture training. But I want to write about what living with my family has been like.<div><br /></div><div>THE PEOPLE</div><div><br /></div><div>My host dad's name is Balla Christian Kamissoko. In his compound live a variety of family members. We Americans would consider most of them "extended," and not "immediate" family, but the Malians do not make this distinction. There are cousins, grandkids, uncles, 2nd wives, brothers, sisters, babies, friends, coworkers, other relatives. I have quite a time figuring out who is who! My family has hosted Peace Corps volunteers before so they are on the ball. I spend most of time there with one of my host brothers- Mahadi. He's 20, still in high school, and goes to work in the fields most days. He speaks pretty good English, and every night he helps me study Malinke, the local Malian language I am learning during training. My brother is awesome and I will miss him.</div><div><br /></div><div>MY ROOM</div><div><br /></div><div>I have my own room in the house. The roof is made of tin so it gets HOT at night. Screens have been fitted on the windows and doors so there are hardly any bugs in there with me. My bed and pillow are fine- on the hard side, not super duper comfy but it's life.</div><div><br /></div><div>BATHROOM</div><div><br /></div><div>Hole in the ground that I try not to look in or drop things into</div><div><br /></div><div>FOOD<br /><br /></div><div>To (congealed millet) and "Snot sauce" (Okra, not actually snot), rice with peanut butter sauce, oily french fries, goat meat, fish, french bread, bananas, hard boiled eggs, mangoes. I eat well with family!</div><div><br /></div><div>GREETINGS</div><div><br /></div><div>Everyday all day to everyone. Super duper important.</div><div><br /></div><div>PRIVACY</div><div><br /></div><div>Nope!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Things have been great at homestay. On another note, I've been thinking how when I wrote in this blog about Niger I didn't talk too much about the people of Niger, their culture. I think that culture is an important thing for me to write about, so I will try to do that about Mali. I guess I just want to be careful and knowledgeable about what I say about Mali and her people. I will make an effort, though it may be awhile before I feel like I know enough to say anything.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, the "cool" evening beckons, so this is me signing off. Thanks for reading, and be well and happy, whoever you are, whatever you are doing, whoever you are with!</div>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-32268194479802559602011-06-07T13:55:00.000-07:002011-06-07T15:26:34.431-07:00Training again, in MALIHey friends, here I am surfacing again...in Mali! Yes I made it back to West Africa safely and soundly. I think today is my 4th day at training here, though time is again achieving fluidity, quite rapidly. It's not as hot here as Niger, and not yet as buggy (though I'm waiting for it). Our training site is filled with TREES.<div><br /></div><div>I am more confident now than when I left for Niger last year. At that time I was anxious and nervous, though of course excited as well. Now I know what to expect from training...lucky me. Though there will still be difficulties, some new, and some familiar. These first few days have been busy, as is to be expected. The highlight was the Malian culture festival, which showcased foods, clothing, music and dance. Yes, DANCE! And you better believe that I got down! Fellow trainees here have already told me that I'm quiet, and I am, but honestly, most everything I'm feeling about being here in Mali was expressed through my dancing body.</div><div><br /></div><div>It feels weird doing PST (pre-service training, the first 2 months of the Peace Corps experience) again, like I'm repeating a grade. I feel like I'm cheating compared to my fellow trainees, since I do know what to expect and have done it all before. But I knew this would be the case. I'm just trying not to come off to my fellow trainees as Totally Awesome for having survived Niger. And of course language will still be hard, training will still be exhausting, and sickness is always terrible. I guess this is just one of those many challenges The Universe has decided to throw my way, and that I've decided to chase. I read some quotes by Emerson recently and keep coming back to them in my mind:</div><div><br /></div><div>"Life is a series of surprises and would not be worth the taking or the keeping if it were not."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Be a football to Time and Chance...the more hits, the better."</div><div><br /></div><div>YES! Both so true! Emerson uses his words to bring us to motion, to keep us open and flowing and changing. Stasis is death. Deciding for certain on anything is fatal. Our worst moments, our hardest moments, the times of sickness and disaster and loss, these are our greatest seeds. We deny and limit ourselves when we say we don't want difficult times, times of pain. And in my best, clearest moments here, I am happy that I have decided to do Peace Corps again. To strike through the mask, like Ahab.</div><div><br /></div><div>I still miss Niger, and there are many triggers that bring this up. But of course that is to be expected. I printed out pictures of my villagers in Madarounfa and dream someday of returning.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, tomorrow we leave the training site (Tubaniso, "House of the Dove") to be installed at our host families. I am nervous and happy, and hope to do well at training. We do have Wi-Fi at the Training Site (which is totally bizarre to me) so I will be more in contact than last year in Niger, at least for these first few months. My PST in Niger was at times very very difficult for me but it was my fellow trainees who helped me through it. I hope I can be that support for my new stage.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-13003222700697176332011-05-18T08:16:00.001-07:002012-07-05T14:15:25.029-07:00Eurotrip!: Seeing Brighton, London and Paris with Maman and Grand-pere<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You know what's weird (but awesome)? Taking a 2 week vacation with your Mom and Grandpa in Europe after only working part-time for the last 3 months, and having been evacuated from a country due to terrorism. Not that I am complaining! It was a great trip and I kept feeling lucky for the opportunity to see new places and to know my grandfather a little better. I guess I just didn't feel sufficiently tired/worn down/sick of a crappy job to feel like it was TIME for a vacation. Oh well. I'm glad I went, mostly to spend time with my family, as in 2 weeks I depart for 2 years (If God Wills It) of Peace Corps service in Mali. Here's a summary of our trip, if you care to know!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjct38gG3jnzLRkmnLRGJg8IOTrV0_bycNmAZmHdcYWeeHYv2tfQZnTTqCYWRG9hs1DTfCpulTf8OUZKV89FSaq0tNGan58CNJG3jN_W5IHhkmlbsPuF5E0VteAblr6bfpmv18FstCSkfo/s1600/Brighton+Pier.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608099235015173474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjct38gG3jnzLRkmnLRGJg8IOTrV0_bycNmAZmHdcYWeeHYv2tfQZnTTqCYWRG9hs1DTfCpulTf8OUZKV89FSaq0tNGan58CNJG3jN_W5IHhkmlbsPuF5E0VteAblr6bfpmv18FstCSkfo/s320/Brighton+Pier.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px;" /></a> First off was Brighton, England. Brighton is a seaside town south of London. It's a small, college town, with some neat touristy stuff and some artisty stuff/people. It's also where my sister Rose has been studying abroad, at the University of Sussex. This was the first stop on our trip. We stayed in a beautiful hostel (who expects that?) and spent our first 4 days abroad fighting jet lag, seeing Rose, going to the beach, eating Fish and Chips (yum!) and not too much more. It was good to see that Rose is doing so well! She also showed us pics and told us stories of her Epic 7-Country Eurotrip (<a href="http://bangersandmashforever.blogspot.com/2011/05/thoughts-of-here-and-there-pt-1.html">check it</a><a href="http://bangersandmashforever.blogspot.com/2011/05/thoughts-of-here-and-there-pt-1.html"> out</a>).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivwGGxI7LeNd0nNpYQsgLcJac-y0O8ZMkzwBSc3ZsU19SY_Qx5S5cVk_BOhFZ3egjp4Ur0uWf5eZLIJjRF37yoOe5IQ6myoQQDGGZUnGfSbyHr5U9l8SNgS4x9raLGqxfy5VOZPWHCsns/s1600/Siblings+in+Brighton.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608099758465939682" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivwGGxI7LeNd0nNpYQsgLcJac-y0O8ZMkzwBSc3ZsU19SY_Qx5S5cVk_BOhFZ3egjp4Ur0uWf5eZLIJjRF37yoOe5IQ6myoQQDGGZUnGfSbyHr5U9l8SNgS4x9raLGqxfy5VOZPWHCsns/s320/Siblings+in+Brighton.JPG" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFoTCv8u0QhZrAgewtnaRjlCrPKiuUeO4LUDsfSyZj8p6TBAoTo2vQz_CJsFLc3x84BUZIxXeUQZwEAfE9nRemgX2VwgB9N5z1wyLMLS-13LmT0epeBF_Ci1Aq-OB-EsIlTC_kRZeOcxE/s1600/London+at+Night.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608100106214691330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFoTCv8u0QhZrAgewtnaRjlCrPKiuUeO4LUDsfSyZj8p6TBAoTo2vQz_CJsFLc3x84BUZIxXeUQZwEAfE9nRemgX2VwgB9N5z1wyLMLS-13LmT0epeBF_Ci1Aq-OB-EsIlTC_kRZeOcxE/s320/London+at+Night.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px;" /></a>After our stay in Brighton we took a train to London. Here, we stayed in a not-as-nice (in fact quite terrible :/) hostel close to the London Eye (this big ferris wheel). We had 4 days in London as well and we used it quite well I think. We saw: the Tate Modern art museum, St.Paul's Cathedral, the British Museum, Hyde Park, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, the Houses of Parliament (beautiful buildings), and the National Gallery (so many great paintings!). The weather was warm and pleasant, and we walked to most of the places (because 4 pounds per subway ticket? REALLY?). I think my favorite spot was the National Gallery. First, it had a ridiculous amount of famous and beautiful paintings- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"><i>The Entombment, </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"><i>The Supper At Emmaus,</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"><i>The Toilet Of Venus</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;">(</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"><i>The Rokeby Venus</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;">),</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"><i>Les Grandes Baigneuses, </i>etc</span>. Second, it was FREE! Most of the museums we went to in England were free, which was nice, as many things in England were crazy expensive.</div>
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Honestly though, I think I'm good on England for a while. I don't have a strong desire to go back to London. If I visited England again I would want to go to way the north into the countryside and see the scenic Lake District. You better believe I'd make a pilgrimage to Wordsworth's cottage! I would also love to wander into Scotland and do some hiking. One day, perhaps.</div>
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608100787558346754" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVPePdnnK8q-vEE4pPfalfhCzSl96Iu0qVKK3JIQENao7gRlc4ihWxwLLwnKB8z716P_TK5DSBTrdKGw5l3j6jAw2km165mP8ETHIXGdL13xDdZYtdNdCrgeGR5j-4-BTN17gHhJMpvA/s320/Nighttime+on+the+Seine.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 243px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 326px;" />When our sojourn in London ended we took the chunell (sweet train from London to Paris) to PARIS, where we spent 6 lovely days. Seriously, Paris was such a beautiful and charming city I can easily see why so many people visit. We had a lot of time here, so while we did do a lot, we lesiured a lot as well, drinking coffees in sidewalk cafes watching the world float by. And at night, wine did flow. Famous places we saw: The Eiffel Tower (ugly by day, pretty by night), the Arc of Triumph, The Champs-Elysee boulevard, Notre Dame, The Louvre, The Tuleries Gardens, and The Pere Lachaise cemetery (Oscar Wilde and Jim Morrison are buried here). We made 2 excursions outside of Paris, to Chartres and Versailles. The former was a smaller town with a beautiful medieval cathedral, and the latter was the royal palace built by Louis XIV, which was completely outrageous: glistening gold, flowing fountains, outrageous ornamentation. The guidebook I carried with me spoke of the pathos implicit in this monumental (and momentually expensive) Playhouse of the King, and you definitely feel it. How does one become so blind to the good of the whole, to the suffering of others, and so greedy, as to create and live in a place like the Palace of Versailles? And the Royals didn't even see the French Revolution coming...</div>
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But overall, Paris was my favorite place we visited. It's the most beautiful city I've ever been to and I could definitely see myself returning there someday. Shy as I am I even tried my French, though I don't have a good accent and most people just switched into English with a "You speak English?." Good for me to try though!</div>
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Overall this was a good vacation. But honestly, for the duration of this trip my thoughts kept leaping ahead to my upcoming Peace Corps service in Mali (2 weeks away!). I keep wondering what Mali and her people will be like. I remember that I learned so much from Peace Corps and Niger and her people and never got to give back as much as I wanted, with our time there cut short. Having been taught (or reminded?) in Niger that nothing is guaranteed in this life (or the next?), the feeling is deep within me, flowing, to make the most of my time in Mali. I am ready to begin serving there. In Niger I proved to myself that I could do Peace Corps, and it is this strengh and endurance I will call on as I again travel to a foreign land to live, learn, love and give, helping people towards a better life.</div>
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</div>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-42515126514052375782011-03-21T12:39:00.000-07:002011-03-21T14:03:10.176-07:00Not the Man they Wanted Me to BeMemories of my time in Niger still flood my mind (I know I keep talking about this, and it's probably getting old, but it is still important to me). In dull moments at work, or while sitting on the metro bus, or, most often, while lying in my bed trying to fall asleep, they visit. A frequent theme that keeps recurring, and that I am trying to sort out, is how many Nigeriens seemed to want me to act as a Man. I will detail what they seemed to expect of me as a Man, my reactions, some of my general thoughts on manhood and end with a great poem (not mine!) on masculinity. If this doesn't sound too navel-gazing, read on!<br /><br />As many of fellow volunteers were female (hey ladies!), I found myself often hangin' with the girls. Which is awesome. This was especially true during training on "language immersion," where I lived with 2 beautiful and wonderful women, Vida and Esther (miss you girls!), and our Language Instructor and all-around awesome fellow, Sangare. During our 2 weeks together "only speaking French" (not so much!) we sauntered around the lovely roadstop town of Guidan-Roumdji. We had a variety of objectives to complete (all in French) that included speaking to the mayor, teachers, school administrators, mat-makers, villagers, and others, asking many questions about life in Niger. Vida and Esther were better at French and more confident at speaking than me, so I sat mute while they chatted. We mostly met with Nigerien men, and as our meetings went on men kept asking me why I was not speaking. A few of the men seemed rather amused that the women were talking and the man was not. Some of them told me that I should be speaking more, and not the women. Cross-culture exchange!<br /><br />In my life most people know me as "quiet," and this is often true when I am in situations that are outside of my comfort zone. Of course, everything about being in Niger was outside of most of our comfort zones. These men's wishes for me to speak up brought to mind memories of other times in my life where people wanted me to "man up." For me to get the us to our destination, to ask the girl out, to drink my fill, to win and want to win, to build the fire, and so on. When I did not complete these tasks, I often felt disappointment, even if unspoken, from myself and others. And even when I did complete these tasks, living up to people's ideas on What A Man Should Be and Do, the satisfaction I got was not pure. I did not always feel pleasure from "Manning Up." Instead I felt mixed.<br /><br />On the other hand, when I do accomplish difficult deeds, when I push myself hard, when I support people and know they can depend on me, I do feel strong. I feel good. Are doing these things a sign of "manhood?" Do Other People know how best I should act, or do I? It's probably somewhere in-between.<br /><br />Defining myself as a man, as a human, as an American, as a global citizen, is an ongoing process. Who am I and what am I? And when I am I different from what I am? In my own journals, and in this blog, I keep looking for these answers. Self-definition is a long road.<br /><br />Finally, I want to end by posting a poem (stop groaning!). This a great poem, and a great look at masculinity, by one of the best American poets. This piece eloquently and musically speaks volumes about the difficulty, pain, and confusion of achieving "manhood." Here is Robert Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays." Enjoy!<br /><br />"Those Winter Sundays"<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);font-family:Arial;font-size:14px;" >Sundays too my father got up early<br />and put his clothes on in the blueback cold,<br />then with cracked hands that ached<br />from labor in the weekday weather made<br />banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.<br /><br />I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.<br />When the rooms were warm, he'd call,<br />and slowly I would rise and dress,<br />fearing the chronic angers of that house,<br /><br />Speaking indifferently to him,<br />who had driven out the cold<br />and polished my good shoes as well.<br />What did I know, what did I know<br />of love's austere and lonely offices? <br /><br />-Robert Hayden (1913-1980)<br /> </span>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-4156466465355129272011-02-23T14:54:00.001-08:002012-07-05T14:17:29.831-07:00"Your Are Your Memories of You"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am standing at the end of a small wooden pier, next to a pitifully small beach. It is a typical Northwest day: gray, clouded over, drizzling. I am cold, and tired from biking, and waiting for my dad, who, unlike me, DOES have a key, to get into the house. As I look off at Lake Sammamish my thoughts slowly leave the present and travel back, back in time. I have been on this pier before, I think. When I was a kid. And now, I am here again. Time is dissolving, as memory and reality swirl together. My body may be here but my thoughts may often be elsewhere, perhaps distant. It is a funny habit of our mind's, this traveling. And yet I am glad for it, for memory lets the past live again, and again, and more, until it hurts too much and we must return to the present. Ah, idleness. A blessing and a curse.<br />
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Lately when I have too much time to think do these temporal distortions occur. Usually, not so far back in time (a few months) but far in place. Namely, to a small, poor, little-known West-African nation that took my friends and I in for 6 months and showed us another place and another life and gave us a chance to wonder. What would I be doing right now were I in my village, I ask myself. Did that all really happen? And then the images of friends appear in my mind, friends whom I may never see again. And yet, their memory lives on. I carry them with me. That is not enough but it is all, so I must be thankful. I am trying.<br />
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We flow in and out of time's stream, backwards and forwards, defying "rational" linear limits, in our search for emotional truths. Past happiness beckons to us and we float back, leisurely. If not careful, we may lose ourselves. For a time, perhaps, And really, how bad is it to be lost? I spent most of the last 6 months in Niger "lost" and it was one of the best things that I've gotten to experience. But, to all things a season. Onward, onward. To new horizons! New jungle underbrush to confuse me and test me and drag screaming to the surface the best that I have in me. I am thankful for all that I may experience, and how I will grow from it. And am grateful to be able to recognize this.<br />
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One path finished, but many others will be open. Just need to know where to look. And, from my time living and working in Niger, I think I am better able to do just that.</div>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-66081683512661566842011-02-09T10:38:00.000-08:002011-02-10T09:21:14.385-08:00The Post I Could Never Write in Niger<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1TAnOBanU-B42ddlsWUm2a2vyIhb2KQzL0bVH4Q5zA-BQsIvDeI9eK0YY4nzHV6uIhaJnp25xj356uMG_IuwyrvloMVIndR7-Acfn6YtqCcN6BHbMjpWhH2VIqTDWvMzyfQy3T4NK8n4/s1600/DSC00202.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1TAnOBanU-B42ddlsWUm2a2vyIhb2KQzL0bVH4Q5zA-BQsIvDeI9eK0YY4nzHV6uIhaJnp25xj356uMG_IuwyrvloMVIndR7-Acfn6YtqCcN6BHbMjpWhH2VIqTDWvMzyfQy3T4NK8n4/s320/DSC00202.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572091062335635586" border="0"></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Hi friends. I am back in the U.S.A. right now, currently in the town I grew up in, Redmond, Washington. After we were evacuated from Niger (<a href="http://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.media.press.view&news_id=1691">click here</a>) I traveled a little, spending a week in Rome and then up to England, to visit my sister who is studying abroad there. But now I'm back, and from a computer at my mother's pristine, modern apartment I write this. Being back, so much sooner than I expected and in circumstances I never could have imagined is overwhelming me. Life is too easy here, I feel. There are too many goods, all of them so easily available. I keep converting prices of things I buy from dollars into CFA (Niger currency) and wondering at much even these small amounts could provide so much for the people of Niger. Meals at restaurants here could give food for my neighbor family for a week, or more. And, looking at my pictures, I am saddened, thinking of the friends and co-workers and kids I left behind.<br /><br />Recently, I have been looking back at the posts from this blog I made in Niger, and am not content. I did not provide details on so much of my experience in Niger. Specifically, I didn't describe the outrageous poverty, sickness and overall desolation that we all confronted on a daily basis. So, let me just say: yes, hunger and disease and LACK were everywhere. The hospitals in my village were missing all sorts of basic supplies. The schools didn't have chalk, textbooks, desks, teachers, etc. Hunger was just a reality. And many of the Nigeriens I met were quite open about talking of these facts. But as to why I could not write it, I wonder if I just had to normalize these harsh facts in order not to have my spirit crushed as a daily occurrence. Or was my apparent acceptance of these painful realities a sort of heartlessness? Did I not care enough, and if not, why not? Does one just become numb to it all? These are some of the questions I have been asking of myself. The title of this blog entry refers to all that in Niger that, for whatever reasons, I couldn't write about. I'm trying.<br /><br />Related to that, one of my best friends in Niger, a very sage man, often discussed with me these sorts of questions. We talked about our Peace Corps work in Niger, and wondered about its value. One of his ideas that he spoke of was what one could call "The Unity." By this, he means our connectedness with every object in the universe. Too often we think of ourselves as separate from our environment and everything we interact with, but this is wrong and unsatisfactory, according to him. And once we realize this connection, our lives change- we see things completely differently, and wish goodness for all we see. That's probably not the greatest paraphrase, but, meh. There's a great book on this: <font style="font-style: italic;">The Book: On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are</font>, by Alan Watts. Check it out, if it doesn't sound too crazy! Also, Walt Whitman in "Song of Myself" has some great thoughts on this. Amazing poet!<br /><br />A further challenge I am facing is how to apply what I learned while living in Niger to my life here. How does one live simply, frugally, when one is presented often with so much plenty? Supermarkets and bookstores I have visited make me feel a little crazy. I just want to buy it all, so much more than I need. Why? WHY WHY WHY? However, I am trying to stay busy. I am looking for some volunteer opportunities in the area. Also, it would be good to find ways for me to practice my French. And I kind of want to take a dance class. We shall see! For work, my boss at my old tutoring job has graciously offered me some part-time work tutoring kids in English, so there is something to do! Thank the Lord!<br /><br />If you see me (and I hope to meet up! friends are so important) please have patience. Much has passed. Thank you. I am looking forward to seeing you, friends! Still no phone though, so shoot me an email: david DOT metting AT gmail DOT com<br /><br />-David<br /><br />P.S.- Here's some of my favorite pictures I took while in Niger<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_Z7uR7sAax4LntTwKKBm9ivQJ_GCiqFp7y2KeN1xV4-FpaJaTo4KNOSZWfzWE5p5x6jz-A0SiOrIqat_FeNI9t5zWOJCnNp0je0Im3ZGhOWMs6gW8yVVjqxVkQqBAUclDqaPs7TRHNw/s1600/DSC00147.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh_Z7uR7sAax4LntTwKKBm9ivQJ_GCiqFp7y2KeN1xV4-FpaJaTo4KNOSZWfzWE5p5x6jz-A0SiOrIqat_FeNI9t5zWOJCnNp0je0Im3ZGhOWMs6gW8yVVjqxVkQqBAUclDqaPs7TRHNw/s320/DSC00147.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572090560534088354" border="0"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjXyyygQgbk2-uX9HPtTeGheSwn2Rjh5oH7_RdTXjGUQTMAgDQsIqRJqkiI12kear3_jPmhOAOwismn_P7DV1wVGS6baxx0U0r4widp0V7U9_El_8NWgHOC0-cISsTyqtr1j9OGxmEynU/s1600/DSC00234.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjXyyygQgbk2-uX9HPtTeGheSwn2Rjh5oH7_RdTXjGUQTMAgDQsIqRJqkiI12kear3_jPmhOAOwismn_P7DV1wVGS6baxx0U0r4widp0V7U9_El_8NWgHOC0-cISsTyqtr1j9OGxmEynU/s320/DSC00234.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572091270275435842" border="0"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8rCFkKA-pBzKxg7SZYd9dr-7I5prcmoUJhsei-S1mhdp5niH1oQ0P7yctG_YPAwrbbGYLvZx34hyETntsNqVZ9h_uU2vpGpigya0Axn7D76PSyAylUsLBezwu9-U1vL8B5JQ7N715eMk/s1600/DSC00395.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8rCFkKA-pBzKxg7SZYd9dr-7I5prcmoUJhsei-S1mhdp5niH1oQ0P7yctG_YPAwrbbGYLvZx34hyETntsNqVZ9h_uU2vpGpigya0Axn7D76PSyAylUsLBezwu9-U1vL8B5JQ7N715eMk/s320/DSC00395.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572092081370859410" border="0"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA4o2Hyr7NeryRRAGB9uDnwEtA1TDJFMiYwS4TXgBy-8v191pK7dnVF_chTm1Ma-VEEA8w3hkffBAskjWyX6R9pMM0DcB0CWFqSYpiqHfA6x72e8lay6437RTHT9roZ92yXWA9uHrdsNU/s1600/DSC00424.JPG"><img style="float: left; 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margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyhizbGwaElsjdvpebVXxjnW8SpQB51RTy2CeVkctvUG-LiewTil0SSsYiD-RuJoWlagcFh8weSW9lZUQkq40KrsK-gg2HmRi8PF25nYR7JrN53QhRm9zNvZIbYhKPtBa3itTTWchtJIs/s320/DSC00238.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572091556586397458" border="0"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXMLjPvNdPrKOFvShyphenhyphenF1vP2BxCJu_sauuCCLwoNO4nim958VWyHBdIo2kU4kAJSuvx__7e_ji4M-difRmnWWGHM0bTinL_xlV_sfOB0mUXFgIU1BmFTExpRX-GYOftxaLtfyvVlZoUyBE/s1600/DSC00241.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXMLjPvNdPrKOFvShyphenhyphenF1vP2BxCJu_sauuCCLwoNO4nim958VWyHBdIo2kU4kAJSuvx__7e_ji4M-difRmnWWGHM0bTinL_xlV_sfOB0mUXFgIU1BmFTExpRX-GYOftxaLtfyvVlZoUyBE/s320/DSC00241.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572091870995362386" border="0"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjehqiujgtjI0btffEa2GNBJ9YVa59q8BsxK_fvpsDa0xRIp6zeGT-sMViBi5M4rUY4kmD2RilqwsLeniuAuqoXgqRrau6GDZx4bHlboHa7y-uym_6naZlHUDPIb6nO8glISKDxoBBlXNQ/s1600/DSC00788.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjehqiujgtjI0btffEa2GNBJ9YVa59q8BsxK_fvpsDa0xRIp6zeGT-sMViBi5M4rUY4kmD2RilqwsLeniuAuqoXgqRrau6GDZx4bHlboHa7y-uym_6naZlHUDPIb6nO8glISKDxoBBlXNQ/s320/DSC00788.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572095359442777346" border="0"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv5xN2fRRan-eFg3sNGdGsTw2AG-KQ3mmrNxtV3OJ9FXGGRA-Sji9dOhNzXjM6WhqwX3wmQy4ZtydXCcrkzR7vzkKkf8Sf3BzD2qIcza3IS6b28758ypuihTO_3JPMh80cwGxp65cuqrQ/s1600/DSC00183.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv5xN2fRRan-eFg3sNGdGsTw2AG-KQ3mmrNxtV3OJ9FXGGRA-Sji9dOhNzXjM6WhqwX3wmQy4ZtydXCcrkzR7vzkKkf8Sf3BzD2qIcza3IS6b28758ypuihTO_3JPMh80cwGxp65cuqrQ/s320/DSC00183.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572090712848851682" border="0"></a>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-47812920955500130742011-01-24T05:08:00.000-08:002011-01-24T06:22:39.734-08:00If we knew the future then life wouldn't be very interesting, would it?The last week has been one of the most emotionally intense in a long time. A week full of good-byes: to Niger, to Peace Corps (for now), and many friends. A week of uncertainty, which will continue; for, if I do re-enroll in Peace Corps, I don't know when I would be leaving or where. However, I am lucky that we have this option, because I still want to volunteer with Peace Corps.<br /><br />Even with the hardships in Niger, being there, sharing life and working with the Nigeriens, was one of the best things I've ever experienced in my life. I felt so fortunate to be there. And it ended so abruptly, with so many loose threads. Who knows I'll ever be able to return; I hope so.<br /><br />On the one hand, I am happy to be seeing my family and friends again soon. Being so far away has made made it clear how precious those relationships are. I'm also wondering how we've both changed. And if they'll want to listen to everything I have to tell them.<br /><br />Morocco has been lovely- clean, modern, mild weather. The streets aren't dirty and there aren't emaciated farm animals wandering the streets. Oh, Niger. Rome should be amazing. I plan on seeing: the coliseum, the forum, the Vatican, the Sistine Chapel, the Protestant Cemetary (Keats and Shelley are buried here!). And more. Just aimlessly strolling the ancient streets should be great. Some good time to reflect on all that has passed, and is soon to come.<br /><br />I know I'll be coming back a different, but stronger person. 6 months ago I would have been too scared to travel in Europe alone; now, off I go! Niger has shown me how I could do things I never thought possible. Like living without electricty or water; being crazy sick; not speaking English for weeks at a time; being the foreigner; being away from my home. I'm thankful for this experience, and hope I continue to have more like it.<br /><br />I land in Seattle on February 8th. Be ready! Many stories and pictures. Be well, friends. Through all this turmoil I am still safe and calm and happy, and grateful for everything I get to experience and feel. That, I think, is the best way to live!David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-50614236408895746832010-12-24T07:14:00.000-08:002010-12-24T07:41:56.589-08:00Doesn't feel like Christmas, but it is! It's too hot!Hey, it's that time of the month again, when I get to connect with the outside world, from our lonely outpost at the frontier. This past month was my best month in Niger here so far- things are really starting to come together. I'm improving in French and Hausa, meeting people who want to work together and have ideas, and just getting to know my village and villagers even better. Things are falling into place, as they say. I'm learning more and more how to be HERE and NOW- awake and attuned to each precious moment, not lost in what was or what will be. Living NOW. I am finding a new sense of calm and peace- I don't know how much of this is from my own effort, versus the wonderful people and oppurtunities I've had in my life. How responsible are we for our own lives and happiness? What about the many many events beyond our control? What lies beyond our grasp? I have no answers yet, but will keep thinking.<br /><br />We are all gathered to celebrate our favorite holiday, the time of year when one is close to friends and family. We are building our communities here- fellow volunteers, our villagers. To celebrate now, we're watching Christmas movies, doing Secret Santa, and eating lots and lots and lots. Cakes, enchiladas, bagels and smoked salmon, candy, treasures from care packages from home. Shout out to the marvelous cooks of Team Maradi! I'll clean those dishes or be your errand boy any day! I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I'm better at walking than cooking.<br /><br />Because I always like talking about books, I'll talk about my reading. I finished Genesis and Guns, Germs, and Steel, and, safe to say, my mind was sufficiently blown by both! It was good to actually read Genesis fully, and to think deeply and critically about it. The story of Joseph and his Brothers was one of the parts that moved me the most. And GGS gave me a good framework for looking at history. As I finished these books I felt the sadness I always feel when finishing a good book. Like saying good-bye to a close friend. Maybe I'm just a melancholic! Now, I'm deep in Robert Heinlen's <span style="font-style: italic;">Stranger in a Strange Land</span>. I never can go too long without some Science Fiction! And the title and story are very appropriate and even inspiring to our mission here. Some of my friends here (Mason! Will!) have spoken highly of this book, and I'm enjoying it. I always love wondering what marvelous sights the future may hold!<br /><br />Soon, we have a 1-month training back at the training site. This should be a great time to catch up with my friends scattered throughout the regions. PC Niger, hope you are all doing wonderfully. And Merry Christmas to all- friends here, family at home, friends scattered- hope your holiday is one of happiness. Have a wonderful time relaxing and reflecting and breathing in slowly the lovely warm air of Repose.<br /><br />Signing out!<br /><br />Issa- (David, DCM, Run DCM, Bob, Dave, Bummef, Kanta- many names I seem to find myself with! A rose...)David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-73630933860232211642010-11-26T07:44:00.000-08:002010-11-26T08:25:41.903-08:00Thanksgiving, nisa daga iyali da abokai ("far from family and friends")Wow, I've been in my village for 2 months. The time has gone fast. I've only been sick one time, thankfully. I've been doing a lot- visiting schools, practicing language, sitting and talking with folks. They say these first months at post are the hardest, as we're still working on language, getting used to the climate, figuring out our work, and so on. It can be overwhelming but also rewarding. People are so curious about why I have come here. I have had many wonderful conversations. And people making fun of me, in Hausa, for not speaking Hausa well. Haha! Life is motion. There are nice people and jerks, loud and shy people, here, there and everywhere. We are all human, and we too often forget that.<div><br /></div><div>I've been blessed to have a wonderful family as my closest neighbors- Souleymane, Rekia, and their 6 kids (2 others have passed away). I often eat dinner with them, drink tea, play soccer, go to the fields to harvest crops like millet and corn with them, and more. They are very patient and kind and warm to me. Even if I speak less Hausa than their 3-year old daughter Aichatu! They are so happy and positive, even though their life is so hard. Amazing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Last week was the Muslim holiday of Tabaski. This holiday commemorates Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son Isaac for the will of God. There is a big prayer in the morning, and then each family slits the throat of a goat, guts it, lets it dry in the sun all day, and then the next day eats it. I made myself watch the whole process. Intense. So much meat! After the slitting, I walked around the dirt roads of my village. Every house I went to to greet people would give me meat! AH! Eventually, I started hiding it in my pocket to feed to my two kittens. My pocket was pretty foul by the end of the day, but my kittens were happy! People are decked out in their finest clothes; I rocked my sick African Grand Bubu. So baller. Kids (and even some adults!) demanded <i>Barka da sallah! </i>relentlessly, as I gave out bags and bags of candy. Quite a day, for sure. Meet your meat, right?</div><div><br /></div><div>I've been reading and writing a ton here, as I lack the distractions of Internet (only once a month!) and TV. It's refreshing. I've been reading: Chinese poetry, Genesis (yes, first book of the Hebrew and Christian bibles), Walt Whitman, cheesy fantasy and sci-fi (oh how I miss Star Trek and Babylon 5!), and Guns, Germs and Steel. I've been especially interested in this last book. It's pretty well-known, and some of you have probably read it. It's a history of the last 13,000 years of human civilization, since the end of the last ice age, when the rise of agriculture led to sedentary society. See ya later, hunting and gathering! Way passe! The book goes on to describe the reasons why various societies developed how they did. Diamond finds that geography is the ultimate determining factor in human history, as opposed to any racial differences. Fascinating book! Check it out, if you haven't.</div><div><br /></div><div>Soon will be a great Thanksgiving feast with my fellow volunteers. Team Maradi, woot! I hope all ya'll's went well, over there, back home! Know that I think about you. Oh, and I got a new address:</div><div><br /></div><div>David Christian Metting, PCV</div><div>BP 291</div><div>Maradi, Niger</div><div>West Africa</div><div><br /></div><div>Getting mail means so much to me, so write! I am still trying to write, but there is too much to say. Be healthy and happy!</div>David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6330413896699143993.post-5966300326243905132010-10-10T04:14:00.000-07:002010-10-29T23:32:18.694-07:00Training's done, and I'm at my village!Hey all, finally getting to update! Training is finished, woo hoo! Training was a lot of information, about language, medicine, culture, work, survival, presented us to so quickly. It was very overwhelming. I am just starting to process all of this information. Also, during training I lived with a host family and living with a host family can be very hard. No privacy! Or choice in food (rice and sauce...rice and sauce...rice and sauce. lol).<br /><br />I'm at my village, which I'm not supposed to mention by name on the internet. However, it is located in the Maradi region of Niger. I'm on the road to Nigeria (but I can't go there...). It's a very lush area, with tons of trees, and, my town in particular has a huge lake. Not that I can go in this lake at all without all kinds of health risks...but it's pretty to look at!<br /><br />Before I really start doing serious work here I have to integrate into my village, adjust to life here. A big part of that is getting a handle on language. In training I had to brush up on French, and I only took two weeks of Hausa. Well, some of the educated people in my village speak French, but most of the villagers just speak Hausa! Learning language is fun though, for sure. I feel my brain expanding.<br /><br />My new home for the next two years is pretty sweet, for Niger. My house has a huge yard. Like, I could have soccer games in it. The house itself is 3 bedrooms- kitchen, bedroom, and entryway/living room. The "bathroom" is a hole in the ground in the corner of my yard. I have no running water or electricity at my house, though I may be able to get the latter. I want electricty before hot season, (February to June), where it's over 100, up to 120, EVERYDAY and nobody does anything. Anything. With electricty I can have a FAN!FAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br /><br />For animals, I have spiders, crickets, earwigs, cockroaches (frakk these dan iskas, I go Wrath of God on their behinds every time!), ants, a variety of beetles, frogs (especially when it's rainy), and a KITTEN! My neighbors brought him to me because I kept saying "Ina son moussa!" (I want cat!). I named him "G'kar." Kudos to anyone who gets the reference! (HI KEVIN!)!<br /><br />For life in village I've been wandering around, meeting people, drinking tea, playing soccer with the scores of kids, being social. Being social is so important to the culture here. People are very curious about me, and also about America. I get all kinds of questions about The States, which I enjoy answering. "Are there black people in America? Are you friends with Obama? Is everyone in America rich?" Doing some good cultural exchange.<br /><br />I often wonder how all of my family and friends back home are doing. I'm thinking of you! I try to write letters but get overwhelmed. I will try to do better! Okay, this is David ("Issa" here), singing out. Peace!David Mettinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07265342405090248136noreply@blogger.com2