Monday, February 28, 2011

The 40 Days of Kava (Approximately): The Birth of a Kava-Head

Well, I have already touched on kava in past blog posts, but everything has changed now. To elaborate, kava strength varies drastically island to island and preparation to preparation. As well, rate of kava consumption varies greatly from island to island and place to place. It seems that stronger custom correlates with larger amounts of kava consumption. In regards to strength, Penama Province is known for some of the strongest kava in Vanuatu. This includes Pentecost, Ambae, and Maewo. Before coming to Maewo, I asked one our language trainers, who drank kava every night, where the strongest kava could be found. His answer was Ambae and Maewo. Pentecost had strong kava too, but had the bad repercussions from too much intake (i.e. dry skin, red eyes, and liver problems). Ambae and Maewo, on the other hand, are good to drink all time. Now when it comes to Maewo, the people of Maewo are very proud of their kava and consider it a much higher quality than others. In addition, every person on West Maewo considers the kava in East Maewo strongest.
 
Coming into Naviso, I was pretty much unaware of the kava culture in Maewo-really anywhere off Efate. On Efate kava was a business like alcohol in the states. There was no custom and you had to throw down 50 – 200 Vatu for every shell. I drank a few time before leaving training, but only four times before going to site. What I learned in Naviso was that kava is an everyday experience for most and kava is either free or 30 – 60 Vatu a shell (not that the people of Naviso ever let me buy my own shells). This comes mostly from the fact that people can grow kava in Maewo (opposed to the inability in Efate) and in Naviso, people’s gardens are much closer than other parts of Maewo and, in general, most other islands; while this leads to easy access to an abundance of food, it also leads to massive amounts of kava (tumas kava lo Naviso). Additionally, Naviso has a lot of custom culture left and kava fills a particular part of that, but more importantly kava is a way of life in Naviso or, should I say, a part of life. All these factors, especially, this last one, result in heavy kava use. The nice thing about the strong kava in Naviso is the ability to drink 2-3 shells and feel the effects, unlike Efate where many people drink 10 – 20 shells.

Wassis, Tambia, Lassa, Tiri, Saama, and the Spit: Min Malo
As I have said, I drank kava, maybe, 4 times in my first 2 months in Vanuatu, but everything changed in Maewo. I liked kava in Efate, I didn’t find the taste to horrible, and when the kava “hit” (various phrases can be used to describe the affects of kava-ranging from small effect to large effect: working, hits, kicks, holding) me it was worth it, but the kava wouldn’t always hit and the effect was never as good as the first time. Coming into Maewo I was interested in drinking good kava and different kava and that’s what I got. Every day I was brought to the Nakamal and, in the early days, was given stone ground shells. Kava preparation varies in different parts of Maewo. In kava businesses, like Efate, the kava is ground in hand or electric powered mince, but on the outer islands, many times, kava is prepared one shell at a time by one man for another. On Tanna, in the South, they chew the kava, in Epi they pound the kava, and in Penama and Torba Province, they grind the kava with a stone.

In local language the stone is called a Wassis and they hold the kava in one hand while grinding the kava with a swift flicking motion of both wrists. As I learned how to grind kava I was instructed that you must slacken the arm with the stone and hold the kava hand strong. This was very frustrating to learn because I had no idea what I was doing and was being told in Bislama nothing but: slaken han blo you mo holdem strong. That was a lot of help. Anyway, the kava is ground in your hand and over a special piece of wood, called a Tambia. The ground kava falls from your hand onto the Tambia. After the kava has been grounded you pour a coconut shell, a Lassa, worth of water onto the kava and proceed to press the kava into the Tambia and around it, mixing the water and ground kava into a mixture. Once you have finished this you gather the kava-water substance together and form it into a ball in your palm and with your other palm, place on top of it, “milk” the kava into the empty Lassa. Basically, what you are doing is squeezing the kava water out and into the Lassa and trying to keep the solid parts of the kava in your hands. Once you finish squeezing out every ounce of water in the kava ball, you make one final squeeze and form it into a ball, called a Saama, and put the Saama to the side. After this you must grab another Lassa and a coconut skin, called a Tiri, to strain the kava. Another frustrating part in learning to grind kava: how to fold the Tiri. The problem here was that they would start slow, showing me how to fold it (with the only instructive word being olsem or, in English, like this) and then take off at full speed at the most critical part and I would totally miss it. Whatever, mi save nao. After you finish folding the Tiri, you capsize the Lassa with milked kava into the Tiri over the other empty Lassa. You proceed to do this over and over again-washing the Tiri and other Lassa in between each time-until you are content with the final product (usually 2-3 times). Once this is done you put the kava into the Lassa not for drinking and wash the drinking Lassa and Tiri and fill up the Lassa with water. Assuming this is the first shell of kava for the person, you capsize the water over their hands and they wash their hands (a part of custom). After this you strain the kava one more time into the drinking Lassa you just washed their hands with and the kava is ready to drink.

Here is where the custom comes in that makes me really enjoy drinking kava in Maewo. First you must drink the kava facing North and in a squat. After this comes the Custom Prayer for Kava (in local language) which I have not learned yet, but am trying to learn before PST-2. EDIT: I did, in fact learn the kava prayer before PST-2-Mak malo herria hai bil taro na kwamaso hinda bona ta na kwamaso. Turns out it can be played with an transformed and the one I just typed is a transformation, not the simple, basic one. It roughly means: My kava that came from the earth is ready to drink and it is time to drink kava. I am alright and everyone is alright. END EDIT. After the prayer you blow the bubbles off the top of the kava with a rotating motion of your head that circles the Lassa. Following this you close your eyes and drink. After you finish drinking you pour the Lassa, and any kava remnants left, over the Saama sitting next to you. After this you take the Saama and throw into the designated “socking area” and then my favorite part comes: the spit. Also called the sing out, after you sock the Saama, you can sing out to announce that your drinking kava and others should come to “storian” and drink too. The spit goes something like this: a loud, projecting Swa-A followed by a sharp, high-pitched: S-Fee (the S is slurred, almost like a hiss from a snake). The phrase: Spit comes from the fact that when you make the final S-Fee you are supposed to be spitting. I have quite mastered the spitting action at the same time, but I do sing out a lot and whenever I get the chance. Not to mention everyone in Naviso loves it, which can only be a good thing in my eyes. Well that’s the end of Kava 101, now I will get into the birth of a Kava-Head and the 40 days of Kava.

Anglican VS SDA
One of the best parts about the kava culture in Vanuatu is the bonding experience. Drinking kava with someone basically makes you best friend for life, especially if they grind a shell for you-and everyone wants to drink kava with me (that sounds arrogant, yes, but I will go into this aspect further in another story-The Guy Everyone Knows and Love: The Niceties of Maewo-coming next). On top of the bonding you just have fun joking around with everyone: mostly about drinking kava, because while everyone wants to drink kava, they absolutely hate the taste and dread the act of drinking the stuff. This is very true as I have learned: the taste of kava gets considerably worse as the shells pile up every night. Due to this most people force other people to drink by buying a shell for them and simply offering it to them without saying a word until the recipient takes the shell. In general, most people only buy shells for other people and have shells bought for them. Bitterly, I learned that I cannot force people to drink kava like everyone else, because if I do they proceed to buy me a ridiculously big shell to repay the favor. Additionally, I have learned that I should not play around at the Kava Nakamal because it just results in me being forced to drink more. One form of playing around is the chin scratch which I have managed to take to an entirely new level of entertainment. The purposeful scratching of the bottom of chin, next to the throat, to another person means that your “throat is dry”, your “thirsty”, or “you want kava”. Now, at first, I thought this was just a joke, and it would, and still does, cause laughing hysterics, but I have learned that I should not abuse the joke because it literally means you want that person to bring you kava. This misunderstanding has resulted in me drinking a lot more shells than I wanted to many times at the kava bar. Now that I understand this I joke much more prudently with the people of Naviso.

Now another joke that popped up became the Anglican VS SDA line. In Vanuatu, unsurprisingly, Seventh Day Adventists (SDA) doesn’t drink kava. To the Anglican community of Naviso, this fact is completely mind-boggling. They are willing to accept the no smoking and no alcohol, but the idea of not drinking kava is the antithesis of their being. One story that came up early was, apparently an SDA Pastor came to the church in Naviso and attempted to preach the evils of kava to the congregation. The yungfala of Naviso then proceeded to harangue the Pastor for not knowing the Bible, because the Bible never mentions kava and that he should preach what’s in the Bible and nothing else. As they say in Bislama: yungfala ia I bin kilim faea blo hem (The young people kill his fire). This resulted in some fellow kava buds and I referring to days off from kava as being SDA and days drinking kava as being Anglican (or “days of prayer”). Basically, this means that people in Naviso now determine if you’re drinking kava by asking: Bae you stap SDA tudei o Anglican? As you can probably guess already this led to many other jokes about Church and Kava, but also led to what I now refer to as the 40 days of Kava.

Anglican Ko Kasem Krismas / Ko Kasem Taem Mi Ded Finis
In the first few weeks at site, from November 10th to the end of November roughly, I “spelled” (mi bin stap SDA) two days. One of these days was because the kava had “held” me the day before and the next was because it held me and made me puke. Now I should probably explain the “Holding Principle” of kava:

The two times kava has held me and the time it has made me puke has been on one shell of stone ground. Wan sel nomo. I’ve drank 5 -6 shells in a night and you can feel sick and the next morning you might not feel good, but the times where it has absolutely floored me have only been one shell each. I’m not sure why this is, but I think it has something to do with the variability of kava strength. Anyway, when kava “holds” you the room starts to spin, meaning the room is moving, but you aren’t, then you have to lie down. Attempting to walk at this stage is impossible. You are completely coherent, you just can’t stabilize your body and you will fall trying to find stability and balance. Then if the kava really “kicks” you feel horrible nausea which results in expulsion (vomiting). The rest of the kava is sweated out like crazy. The thing about this is the next morning you feel perfectly fine, while you can drink 5 shells some nights and feel horrible the entire next day. Well, that is the end of “Holding Principal” 101, now back to the 40 days of kava.

Now I was never planning on drinking so much these first weeks, but my Papa would come get me every night and we would proceed to go to the Nakamal every night. It was like a schedule. Turns out he doesn’t normally drink every day like I thought, so I am not sure why he was coming to my house every night to take me to the Nakamal. I think it had to do something with me not saying I want to spell, but I didn’t think of that option because he was searching me out. More or less a cultural misunderstanding, but what came of it was more of a conscience choice based on an ongoing joke and my inherent stubbornness. When it got close to the end of November and I started mentioning how we had been drinking kava every day. This led to jokes about never “spelling” and eventually to me saying: bae mi stap Anglican evri dei ko kasem Krismas (I will drink every day until Christmas). Eventually, I realized, as we got closer and closer to Christmas, they took me seriously. While it was still a joke, I still couldn’t disappoint the people of Naviso and thus became the goal of drinking kava every day until Christmas. The joke eventually evolved into: bae mi stap Anglican evri dei ko kasem taem mi ded finis (I will drink kava every day up until I’m already dead). This, fortunately, remained a joke and I spell a lot more now and have relegated my drinking to 3-4 times a week. So after 20 days in November and 25 days in December and a few days of spell in November the result was the “40 Days of Kava (Approximately)”. Not to mention the final result: the birth of a kava-head. If I knew beforehand that to become a kava-head, you had to learn to hate kava, I might have chosen a different route.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

I’m as fast as lightning bro. You better grab your Nikes bro.

I was never really sure what my site was going to be like. I knew that it was remote and that I would have to walk a lot to get there (seeing as the truck road ends 2 hours before the village-this, among many things has changed-since reaching my site), but many of the things that have happened and I have seen were completely off my radar. I will now present various blog entries over the next couple weeks, elaborating on some of these experiences, in the form of small stories. Each will be connected in some shape or form, but for the most part each entry will be, in itself, an independent story.

EDITORS NOTE: That in itself is ironic because the point of this “note” is to state that not much editing goes into this. I don’t have much time around electricity or access to internet and I don’t elect to use my time intensively editing a blog. This is a blog, not an academic showcase. Meh.

The Abandoning of Luggage: The Trip to Maewo
To begin properly, I should start with our, me and Jennifer, trip and arrival to Maewo and, eventually, Naviso Village. Our trip started off as expected at the airport in Port Vila. We both had excess luggage, largely based on the fact that we were moving to a new place where we were going to live for two years, and were dealing with the issue of paying for the excess. Everything got on the flight from Vila to Espiritu Santo and then we had to transfer to our plane to Maewo.

At the time I thought we were going to miss the plane to Maewo because the plane to Santo was running late and then we had to get off the plane at the airport in Santo, walk by our plane to Maewo, wait for our luggage, then re-check in, before going to get our plane… Air Vanuatu is as efficient as American Airports now! As it turns out, the plane would never have left without us because it only carries about 8 people and the pilot, as well as the passengers, was completely willing to wait for us. Then the next, not so big surprise, the plane-roughly the size of a small bedroom-was unable to carry our entire luggage. So, I was asked to walk out on the tarmac and tell them which luggage they were to leave behind until next week when the next plane comes to Maewo. Now, at the time, I am not thrilled about this because I know how difficult it is going to be already to get to our site and trying to think about we were going to get all this luggage eventually was beyond me at the time, but in the end the “lean with it, rock with it” side won out and I relaxed. I still had to choose which luggage to dump and which not, which meant I had to ask them to go and get Jennifer, because I couldn’t make the decision for her luggage too. In the end we figured it out and were able to board the plane. The great part about it is they never re-checked the weight after moving the entire luggage around. They just eyed what we took off and decided to fly on faith. As it turns out, we were still overweight. As the pilot was flying toward the first destination in Santo before flying to Maewo he announced to the passengers (by yelling loudly) that he would have to fly to Maewo first, dump the majority of the luggage with the Maewo passengers in order to successfully reach both destinations.


Arrival: You’re here!? Really?? Well, Harold is dead…
Finally, we touched down in Maewo. The Maewo airport consists of a purely grass runway where the bush has been cleared away and an “office” building, which is a concrete square smaller than the plane. Once off the plane, we were greeted by Remon, who lives in Ngota, the middle bush village on East Maewo (middle bush meaning on top of the mountain, not on the water), and proceeded to show us to our ride. Trucks in Vanuatu vary in condition and ability, but, overall, most don’t have air-conditioning, and in this case, to our benefit, didn’t have windows. The truck belonged to Jill (in Vanuatu pronounced “Chill”). Jill is the only truck owner willing to go on top to Qatevol (pronounced Kwa-te-vul, the middle bush village of West Maewo), because, while his truck looks like the accumulation of scrap medal, it is in fact one of the better, stronger trucks in Maewo. I also credit some of his willingness to being a reckless yungfala (Bislama for his age category: 15-24) with money. Anyway, Jill drove us on top while I talked with him in the passenger seat and Jennifer sat in the bed of the truck with the rest our group. On a tangent, to better elaborate the conditions of trucks in Vanuatu, particularly Maewo, I will explain the repair job we witnessed on the way on top. Right before the truck road leaves Berterrara to go on top, you reach Jill’s house. As we approached the road we turned off towards Jill’s house because we had realized one of his tires was losing air or I should say had already lost a good amount. At Jill’s house we watched as Jill whipped out a bicycle tire pump and proceed to refill his truck’s tire before we all got back in to drive up the worst truck road in Maewo.

After a slow, tedious trip up the hill we arrived at Qataevol where we were told we would be staying the night and leaving for Naviso in the morning. After separating Jennifer and I almost immediately, I was brought to the Nakamal to drink kava (and thus began the birth of a kava-head, but that story will have to wait until next time). After kava and supper, Jennifer and I learned that our host Papa, Harold, according to the information provided by the Peace Corps, was dead. Consequently, he could no longer perform host papa duties and was no longer our host Papa. This was thrown on top of the fact that my counterpart, Fabiano, the dresser (male nurse) of Naviso had bailed early and I had no idea when a new nurse/dresser would be coming to Naviso. Additionally, as I have discovered over the months, Harold died in May, but my program manager visited in June and, I believe, some other volunteers made non-official visits after May too. Despite all these visits, Peace Corps was still uninformed of Harold’s death and no one ever sought fit to tell us until we had reached Qataevol: another mystery of Vanuatu (made more so by the fact that Harold was apparently “prayed to death” by the village “Sniper”-pronounced Snipa-for trying to poison the old dresser, but that’s another story for another time).

The next day, after a night of pouring rain, consisted of us walking to Naviso and discovering the Bislama word “glis”. “Glis” means slippery and in this case we learned that putting your foot on a “glis” spot involves a lot of attempts at rebalancing yourself, followed by either a fall or a racing heartbeat. We also discovered that once mud gets between the soles of your feet and your footwear of choice, the shoe then becomes a “glis” spot in itself and can making walking nearly impossible. This occurrence usually results in the abandoning of shoes (at least in my case). We also discovered that the road to Naviso involved a final, approximately, hour trip down a crazy hill (which I will go into further in another entry: Tok blo Rod). Once we finally go to Naviso, we were made to go to the main meeting area by the church and sat awkwardly when everyone tried to figure out what to make of us. Later we discovered that the people of Naviso did not actually believe we would come (as they had been lied to about development issues in the past). Additionally, that Jennifer’s host Papa, Luke, was not there and when he is not there, things do not get done. Beyond the surprise of our arrival the men of Naviso also hadn’t finished preparing our houses… where were we to stay you might ask?

Housing: Where is my house? That’s not right… Stone houses weren’t meant for this part of the world…
When I was given all the information regarding my site the site identification form showed me pictures of a fairly large Custom house (made of local materials) and a stone swim house (shower) and water-seal toilet. Everything was broken down and needed repairs, but I figured the pictures were old and, by the time I got there, everything would be ready. As I was lead to my house, I was walked by the house from the pictures and we continued to walk until we reached the Nurse’s house. Once there I was told I could put my stuff into one of the rooms and no explanation was provided. As we later discovered, neither of us had houses and no one could tell us when we would. Fortunately for Jennifer, the community started working on her house fairly quickly and she was moved in well before Christmas. This was more imperative because while I had the Nurse’s House to myself with a shower and water-seal toilet, Jennifer was sharing a house with one of her Bubu Women (Equivalent to a Grandma), had no swim house, and was using a traditional bush toilet with some nice, movable logs as supports. My house, as yet unfinished, was started in January by my family and was just recently attacked by the community to weave the bamboo walls. The house is close-up to being finished now, but as of yet I have stayed in the Nurse’s House.

The Nurse’s house is a stone house with three different rooms, a large living area, and a sink with a running tap. Everything considered, it is a pretty nice house for this part of the world, but it is also a government-issued house and that, usually, involves perks. The real problems with the house occurred later and never crossed my mind as possibilities.

The Flooding Toilet
Having a water-seal toilet anywhere in Vanuatu is pretty good. Having it in your house is very different. Having the water-tap with a bucket right next to the toilet is pretty much celebrity-status. Unbeknownst to me, in the dark, unlit bathroom, whenever I turned on the tap to fill-up the bucket, water was going to the floor. Now this isn’t a problem in small amounts, but after awhile those small amounts can really add up. Eventually, before Christmas, I was stuck with a toilet surrounded by water that had no place to go. After weeks of meticulously paling the water and dumping paper down to absorb the water started to disappear. It seems to have found some way out because my efforts did not result in the large decrease in water. I have not seen any drain in the concrete, but the water is going somewhere (another mystery). I don’t ask to many questions because happily I can now use the toilet again and no longer have to walk to the toilet at the Dispensary.

The Clogged Drain and Odd Smell: What’s that God-Awful Smell!? Is That Me!?
So, a swim house, with a shower head, that’s pretty good in the Peace Corps I’d say. For awhile I thought it was great too. The shower is in my house and I don’t have to scoop water out of a bucket… Oh do I miss those days. What happened to the two showers I use, I don’t know. First it happened to the shower in the Nurse’s House then the shower at the Dispensary. The one in the Nurse’s House is much worse off though. One day I noticed that the shower had not drained from the day before. I don’t know why. I assumed something clogged the drain, but I had no real way of checking. The only tool at my disposal was a stick that was always in the shower room. So I took the stick and inserted it in the drain hole. The stick went down about 6-8 inches before hitting concrete and stopping. This didn’t help at all and water was still filling up the shower room. Additionally, I thought the water flooding out would be the problem-boy was I wrong. The problem came one day when I was showering and it started to smell like a wet-dog and then some mixture of unknown chemicals. The smell was coming from the water. The worst part about this is the smell permeates the house and the door to the shower cannot close fully. I am not sure how to describe the smell, I don’t think I can, but I can tell you it’s quite a horrifying smell. I thought my move to the Dispensary shower would save me, but now I just try to juggle showers based on which one decides to drain and when and which one doesn’t smell as bad (if I must shower in the stagnant water). As I’ve stated, sometimes the water drains, it seems random and I am not sure why it drains sometimes and not other times. My theories based on my level of filth, length of shower, and amount of water used have all been soundly defeated by the randomness of the two showers. This is just another mystery of Vanuatu I will have to live with. Additionally, and finally, this is why westernized houses should not be built in areas where maintenance is impossible. Because that smell cannot be healthy.

The Missing Nurse and the Broken Dispensary
During the week in Vila, prior to our departure to site, I was informed by my Program Manager that my site was officially lacking a Nurse/Dresser and I was lacking a counterpart. Fabiano, the old Dresser at Naviso-the Mamalu Vanua Dispensary, got the hell out of dodge a good month-month and a half before he was supposed to leave his post. This wonderfully left Naviso without any access to medical care until the arrival of the new staff which would not occur until after Christmas; I learned that Fabiano bailed the first week of November. This means that in order to seek modern medical care and not use Custom Medicine the people of Naviso must walk 2-3 hours (3-4 hours for me) to the Health Center in Kerembei or the Dispensary in Nasua. I think this is the reason the Ministry of Health decided to build a Dispensary in East Maewo; the 500+ population could have been a factor too. In addition to the lack of medical care, I had a lack of a work partner. The Peace Corps counterpart is supposed to help with integration and introducing you to the community: this was not a problem as the people of Naviso were very open. The downside was a counterpart who has been there for three years can really help to inform you about the health needs of the community. On top of all of this, the Dispensary was a mess. I mean papers and medical supplies were scattered all over the place. Another volunteer pointed out to me that a catheter was just sitting on the ground next to the toilet as if someone just tore it out then and there. Additionally, the solar set-up for the Dispensary wasn’t working (still not). The solar that provides power to light the Dispensary and keep the ice box cold, you know important things like that. Well, what are you going to do?

Dresser Nicolas, Where are you?: Nicolas x 3 = Maewo
As of February 1st no Nurse/Dresser has come. I learned through hearsay, in December, that the Ministry of Health for Penama Province, based in Lolowai, East Ambae, was having trouble finding a Nurse/Dresser willing to go to East Maewo. This is based on a lot of fear of Maewo in general and particularly the remote eastern part. Maewo is believed to have a lot of “Black Magic”, also known by other names, and this might be in part to the strong custom that still exists in Maewo or the isolation of the island. Either way, this is taken seriously in Vanuatu, but only regarding Ni-Vanuatu. As a white man, black magic has nothing to do with me and will not affect me, but whenever I told someone in Vila, before I left, that I was going to Maewo they would, quite literally-no exaggeration here, shake with fear. Due to this strong fear, Lolowai could not find a Nurse/Dresser willing to go to Naviso, except one: Nicolas. No you did not misread, his name is in fact Nicolas (most likely spelled Nikolas-considering the lack of a ‘C’ in Bislama). It was ironic enough that a Nicolas would be willing to come to Naviso out of every other medical worker in Vanuatu, but I never really understood why he was willing to come. The one thing that all my fellow volunteers kept telling me was that you’ll be in a position where you will be helping the Nurse/Dresser integrate and teaching him about the health needs of the community. Well, this normally would be true if the reason Nicolas was willing to come to Naviso wasn’t because he was born and raised in Naviso and his family is still there, but Nicolas couldn’t come because his stint at his last Dispensary was not finished… right? Nope! Nicolas is on his way. As of today February 3rd, Nicolas has not reached Naviso, but maybe he will get there before I go to Vila before PST-2. Hopefully, my house will be finished sometime before then too, so I don’t crash his place for too long.  Once he arrives Maewo will have three Nicolas’, with two in Naviso and then Nic Thiltges in Telise on the Westside. I will probably add an edit to this once I get to Vila because I am sure things will change.

Where Have All the Professionals Gone?
One of Naviso’s biggest problems is the lack of professionals willing to work for extended periods in the village. The Primary School in Naviso, Bakano Primary, only has one government-trained teacher. This can make it difficult to have quality education and medical care (as the two examples most related to the two Peace Corps in Naviso). With the lack of a counterpart, I didn’t really have any person I could work with in relation to community health issues. Just recently I remembered that before Naviso got its Dispensary, Naviso had an Aid Post. To break this down: Dispensaries, Health Centers, and Hospitals are government-run and funded by the Ministry of Health. If a community doesn’t have any of these they usually build an Aid Post that is run by a Community Health Worker-who can receive training in basic health care. My idea was that I could talk with the old Aid Post staff and find a temporary counterpart, so I asked my Papa who the old Community Health Worker was and, to my unending surprise, my Papa told me: Harold. Oh, good my ex-Host Papa who was “prayed to death”. Did I expect a different answer?

The Death of Harold: In Remembrance
Host Papa and driving force in Naviso, dead as of May: Peace Corps still unaware, even though many people visited after his death. My discovery that not only do I not have a counterpart, but the only man who could come roughly close to being my counterpart (the man who did so much for health in Naviso) was the former Community Health Worker-Harold, owe!

EDITOR'S NOTE: Still no Nurse/Dresser in Naviso and my house should be finished by the time I get back. - March, 1st 2011