One Year Back

A year ago, I came home from Kazakhstan.

Honestly, the exact day escapes my memory. I remember that it was snowing in Almaty the day I left, and the streets were dark as we drove away from the Peace Corps office so early in the morning.

It is good to be back in America. I am throwing back on the personality I once had -- the person who has a full day, every day. Graduate school, work, and other obligations will make a person busy, and these are the aspects of life that I have chosen.

Sometimes I am shaken and I see my life through Kazakhstan eyes. What am I working for? Where is my family? Will I catch a cold from that open window?

There is not a day that I don't think about Kazakhstan or Liberia.

Part of that is a factor of this life that I am choosing: I work in an office draped with Central Asian paraphernalia. I got to colloquium lectures about the evolution of steppe pastoralism. I discuss public service reform in class and think about Liberia. I study the effects of language and educational achievement and think about my students.

I still find it hard to talk about. Yesterday I gave a video conference presentation to 7th graders in Ohio about the Silk Road (my job has included stranger things...). At the end, one of them asked me, "Was it difficult to live abroad for 2 years? What was is like?" How do you answer that? Of course it was difficult. But leaving was the scariest part.

It is so good to be home. I am learning how wonderful it is to be able to call people. I can think about someone, and then talk to them a minute later. This is an amazing thing after those long months of wondering, of having my weekly phone calls with the parents and the beautiful letters from friends as my only lifelines. It is incredible to feel like I am again a part of the lives of the people I love.

Sometimes I forget, though, and I let myself get sucked into this daily grind. I am trying to honor where I was and what I was. But I forget that for hours a day, for months at a time, I was a teacher. That my life was students and crazy English textbooks and a cold school building where I did squats between classes to stay warm.

I miss it. I miss the language, the banya, and I even miss the food. My first Kazakh teacher was here for an exchange program this fall -- we got to meet and talk for a few hours last week. And both of us complained about how American food lacks soup. Our other mutual pet peeve was shoes on carpets.

Mostly, seeing him reminded me of the people I miss. I get emails from my former host brother, who is now studying in Russia. His phrasing makes me laugh out loud. And berate myself for not properly teaching him: he still writes like a gangster (sista instead of sister, lil' instead of little). When I go back, if I go back....

In any event. I've survived the past year. I've lived in Almaty, Kazakhstan; Minneapolis, MN; Zwedru, Liberia; Minneapolis again; Montpelier, VT; and Bloomington, IN. I guess I'll recover from it all soon enough.

Stumping for Discs

In the summer of 2008, six intrepid Peace Corps volunteers gathered in a small town in northern Kazakhstan. Their mission: to teach thirty 5-9th graders the fundamentals and joys of Ultimate Frisbee. Meeting every day for a week, the camp exceeded all expectations and a royally good time was had by all. We formed four teams, each with a volunteer leader, and throughout the week, calls of "Superstar Monster forever!" "Alright, Counterstrike!" "Yeah, Flying Crocodiles!" and "G-unit!" rang across the steppe.

Girls love Ultimate

Ultimate is a wonderfully addictive game, and soon these kids were hooked. Their leaders, older and a bit more prone to wear and tear, had to drag them off the fields at the end of morning practice. Afternoon activities included designing team logos, video clips of Ultimate, and one amazing project:

It would not be Ultimate without some tie-dye!

There are more photos and camp commentary on the June 28, 2008 post of this blog. Check it out!

Recently, my site mate Jeff told me that he is resurrecting the camp this year. Sounds like there has been a lot of interest from both the community and other volunteers. He is hard at work organizing and scheming for funds -- I'm writing here to get you all to help!

You can't have an Ultimate Frisbee camp without Frisbees. And discs are impossible to purchase in Kazakhstan. Last year, Discraft sent us some free reject discs (we covered shipping costs) and family, friends, and teammates came through with some beautiful new and almost new discs. THANK you for everyone that helped out.



This year, Discraft has said no more -- they have sent as many discs as they will to Kazakhstan. So I hope that loyal readers and passionate Ultimate stars will step up to help us out. Bring a disc to give away to Get Ho, or toss a few bucks my way to help purchase discs and mail them.

Just to head off the inevitable question of, "Hey, what happened to the discs from last year?" We made a rookie mistake and gave the discs away to the participants. Great idea, right? They could keep playing all year, remember the summer fun, etc.

One problem: all the Americans signed the discs and we used them as awards for participation. This turned the discs into precious mementos, not sporting equipment, and none of the kids want to use their discs, for fear of erasing those signatures and accolades. This year, in light of the growing interest in Ultimate, donated discs will be kept, either for future camps or for school sports programs.

Let me know if you are interested in helping out -- we would greatly appreciate discs, cash, cones, cleats, or any other Ultimate-related sports gear. I will ship what we've got in mid-May: every little bit helps.

Peace,
Nora

norawebbwilliams@gmail.com

An end to a journey

Most of you loyal readers likely already know the latest news: I've returned home to the good old USA after almost 8 weeks in Liberia. This is more short-term that I'd originally intended. And let me say first that I am in good health and was mostly safe for most of my service in Liberia. I came home voluntarily for many reasons; the two easiest are that my work was not what I expected and that personally I felt it was time to reconnect with America. Regarding work, there was no job ready for me... I was assigned to teach English in a high school, but with scheduling issues I would have ended up teaching 6 classes in 10 weeks. This is frustrating because I went to Liberia expressly to work, to share my expertise, to really be of use. What is hard is to think of the students I left -- bright 10th and 11th graders who need all the learning they can get so that they might rise out of conflict and into wisdom. The classes were between 90-120 students each, a challenge certainly, especially as most were young men and some were older than me. I feel that I was up to the task, however, and I think that we made the most of the 3 classes we had together. It was curious to be addressed as "Madam" by students, but as the only female teacher on staff, it was understandable that they didn't take easily to calling out "Ms. Williams". I wish that we could have had more time; they deserve a long-term educator. Preferably one who knows the curriculum they are expected to cover and is paid by the Ministry of Education (as in the Soviet reconstruction period, most teachers have gone months without pay).

The second reason for my resignation from Peace Corps was personal. In Liberia, I had many interactions with international workers -- experts from the UN, consultants, NGO staff, etc. One unifying theme they all shared was a distance from their families and home cultures. Yes, it has always been a dream of mine to travel, to live abroad and feel the rush of being foreign, but not at the expense of my family and friends back home. I would like to be a better friend, sister, daughter, or if not better, than at least closer. I may still be awful about picking up the phone to chat, but at least now I have that option.

Liberia itself is a country still struggling, still trying to recover, still trying to hold onto peace and rebuild. Never before have I lived in a place where humans and nature were so bolding interfering with one another. The bush reclaims fallen homes; farmers and road builders burn the bush. The termites and cockroaches believe they own everything; humans try to convince them they are wrong. In many ways it feels like a losing battle: at times I wondered if it wouldn't be better to just leave this land of malaria and mold to the birds and spiders and jungle vines.

Of course, I had the option of leaving. The people of Liberia are boldly choosing the other option: they are coming back. Back from Guinea and the Ivory Coast, back from Sierra Leone and back, even, from the USA. They are brave, they have struggles, and I have nothing but hope and prayers for their success. I wish to see the day when, eventually, the UN will leave, the international NGOs will trickle out, and Liberia will try to stand on its own feet.

Peace Corps will probably still be there on that day, and probably will be there for as long as the government will have them. It was very inspiring to be in a country with such a history of Peace Corps -- former volunteers and FOL, you made some big impressions. My favorite landmark on the drive to Monrovia was a sign in Saclepea boldly proclaiming that they had a PCV from 1963-1965, "mentor, teacher, coach, you will never be forgotten."

Thanks for reading, let you know where the next adventure leads!