April 1, 2002

The results are unanimous; the first weekend of the Girls Exchange was a resounding success! I went to Praia last Wednesday to accompany the girls back on Thursday to the valley. Wednesday was filled with buying groceries in bulk, mailing items at the post office, and finishing other last minute details. On Thursday, the panic set in as I finished my shopping and the lines at grocery stores were long due to everything closing early for Easter. Even the 24-hour cash machines were empty by noon, and I wondered if I had withdrawn enough cash for incidentals. Once Thursday afternoon rolled around, it seemed like a miracle when the hiace (minivan) driver showed up an hour early to take us.

On the ride to the valley, the Praia girls sang and made comments about how they thought it would be. Upon entering the valley, I gestured towards some of the houses way up on cliffs, and their jaws dropped when they realized they’d be hiking up there. Meg had already arrived early at the community center from her beach town with her guitar and backpack. She is a Peace Corps English Teacher volunteer at a high school, and her Kriolu is amazing, as well as her leadership skills. Together, we were able to pull of a wonderful event.

We started with a get-to-know-each-other event where you get in line according to age without speaking. The Praia girls did it in a matter of 3 minutes, while the rural girls stood there, not knowing what to do. We kept explaining it to them, but they were so shy. Finally, the Praia girls stepped out of line, and gestured to each rural girl until they were all in one line. As we watched them include each rural girl in the activity, Meg whispered over to me, "Those Praia girls are amazing aren’t they?" They were so talkative and self-assured that the rural girls were speechless and staring most of the time. We then proceeded to do some circle games to learn each other’s names. Some of the rural girls opened up immediately and placed their hands on the body of the girl they were hosting as a gesture of warmth. The Praia girls were so articulate that Meg and I sat in awe when they explained the seven principles of the Red Cross, including humanity, neutrality, and other virtues. The games were a success, although most rural girls became intimidated when they learned most of the urban girls had boyfriends or were wearing stolen items like sunglasses or a cheap necklace.

When I finally announced who was staying with whom, the urban girls were disappointed because they had already planned which girls would hike an hour up to the most rural houses in the village of Gon Gon. However, I had already decided who would go by age, so we ended up sticking to my plan. It was much better because the most overweight girl was matched with a girl her age, and she had to endure the long hike. She ended up being one of the most active participants and a girl that no rural participant would forget for her generosity and warmth. She also had this amazing sense of humor and when Meg and I arrived at her homestay on Friday, she exclaimed, ‘I didn’t know anyone else had to use their hands to get here, too! It was so slippery, the rock and sand, leading to this one girl’s rural house that you can to get on all fours in some locations. You can actually see the ocean from her house, which is a 2-3 hour walk away.

After everyone dispersed for their homestays, Meg and I arranged the food in the kitchen to avoid the mice getting into it, and we headed to my house where we made individual pizzas with bread, tomato, paste, and cheese from Holland I bought in Praia. We saw my water girl Nha with the girl from Praia she was hosting as they walked to fetch water in town. Nha was so traditionally dressed, and her guest in a cute jacket and pant set, her hair in a bob. We reminisced about how the city girls had come with tight fitting matching outfits and the rural girls wore their typical pleated skirts, tops, and bandanas to cover their hair. Little would anyone suspect that by Saturday morning when they left, the urban girls would be wearing bandanas, and the rural girls would have removed their bandanas and braided their hair. There was such a reversal of roles that took place within 24 hours.

Early Friday morning, Meg and I met Isabel, my boss from Gon Gon, the president of that association. We all hiked up to each of the three girls' houses who were hosting. The first girl was not home with her guest because they were making moonshine liquor, so we had to wait an hour for them to arrive. Meanwhile, we listened to the pounding of corn at a nearby funeral. It was actually Isabel’s aunt that has passed away earlier that week, so about 100 people were participating in the visitation ritual that lasts for eight days. Isabel invited us to go, so I had to drill Meg on some Kriolu prayers to offer to the grieving. It was such an amazing experience and very sad.

You enter a room of the house where they have a photo of the deceased on the table. Ten women dressed in black are sitting with their heads bowed, whaling. Whaling is a sound that makes you immediately want to cry or grieve for anyone affected by this loss. You wait about fifteen minutes, and then you go to each person, giving them a hug that is very distant, pat to back, bow to their head, and you whisper a prayer in their ear. They acknowledge you, and then you leave. People sit outside the house for an hour. Many of my neighbors from an hour away had hiked up there and were surprised to see me. We then walked around the back of the house where 50 women were busy preparing food for the visitors.

They offered Meg and I the chance to grind corn with them, which is a very fun and stressful task. Stressful for us because each person around the wood grinder has to pound in rhythm so that no wood pole hits another. I kept throwing off the rhythm, and then we would start again. They use their arms and entire back to thrust the pole into the mortar filled with corn, the kernels bouncing up in the air, and the sound of the exhaling in unison.

Later, Meg, Isabel, and I visited the remaining two girls. One girl appeared to not like her host because she was doing homework at the table and had this solemn look on her face. That afternoon we she would arrive at the community center, she would seem a different person with a gift of a live chicken and kilos of sweet potato to take home, a gift from her host family. As we eased down the mountain path, we stopped at one remaining girl’s house where they had bonded. Both were in the kitchen cooking food, and the mother was telling us how the urban girl had learned to use a knife to peel sugar cane. The rural families were really in awe about how little the urban girls knew how to do common things, like get water or animal food.

Back at the community center, the girls started arriving at 3 pm with bags filled with gazados (GAH-ZAH-DYOUS), or gifts from their host families to take back to Praia. Each urban girl ran to her friends and hugged them as she arrived. Reminded me of the AIDS Ride when you pull in the final stretch and everyone cheers you on. All of the girls were dressed differently, and they seemed to have already formed some strong friendships.

Because Meg and I had not expected everyone to be in Catholic mass on Friday afternoon for the Saints' Day, we decided to avoid visiting the moonshine factory and to just do a theatre exercise. We had girls split into four groups of 2 pairs: 2 rural girls, 2 urban girls. We gave them twenty minutes to throw together a performance for us of what happened between the time they left the community center on Thursday to Friday at 3 pm. The dramatizations were hilarious, and I taped them on my video camera to who them at a later date. They dramatized the hike up the mountains, carrying things on their heads, sleeping by candlelight, and other small events. Afterwards, Meg and I made buckets of popcorn and pork rinds for the Praia girls' village theatre performance at 5 pm. Well, 5pm rolled around and only young kids showed up. Everyone was still at mass. We decided to wait until 6pm when some people started to show up.

The Praia girls put on an amazing performance. It was a piece they prepared about a single mother, her husband immigrates to Portugal and doesn’t write for 10 years. She has 3 daughters, and a son. One daughter suffers from a teen pregnancy, one is good at school, one has problems, and the son is strung out on drugs with an attitude. They receive a letter from the father, and they are all surprised. A Red Cross worker comes to the house and informs them of drug rehabilitation programs available, and also ways to help the pregnant daughter. At the end, the rural girls enter the stage and sit down. Meg and I are shocked when they all do a traditional dance and song piece for the audience TOGETHER. They had planned it and not told us.

The Praia girls follow their 45 minute piece with a very frank talk on AIDS, condom use, and teenage pregnancy. The audience is very open and probably a bit shocked at how open they are with information. They even direct questions to the audience: "What did you think of our piece? What do you think of us? Do you feel AIDS is a problem here? Who gives you information on AIDS and contraception? Would you like us to come back in the future?" Again, Meg and I were amazed at how organized and articulate they were, facilitating a group discussion. The feedback from the audience was amazing. No, they had no information, and, yes, they wanted it. They think AIDS is not a problem in our village. They loved the piece, and would enjoy another performance in 2 weeks (3rd weekend of Exchange).

Meg and I had planned to have the girls cook a traditional meal, but one particular Praia girl who went shopping with me on Wednesday wrecked the plan. She said their traditional stew was too heavy for them, and suggested we cook spaghetti. Trying to please her, I gave in, and later regretted I when the spaghetti was a total disaster. Meg threw half of the case (6 packs) into luke warm water. The two burner stove was very small, and the pot enormous. The water would not boil, and starch came off of the pasta making the water thick and gooey like glue. The spaghetti stuck together in one large mass, and we eventually declared it pig food after an hour of watching it slowly progress into a disaster zone. We started dinner at 6 pm, and finally ate at 11 pm after cooking 7 individual batches of spaghetti in a small pot I brought. This threw off our entire schedule, and I missed seeing how the girls bonded. They hung out, told stories, and we nearly missed the planned bonfire.

At 11 pm, after dinner, most rural girls were already sleeping. The Praia girls woke them up, and we all trooped out front under the full moon to light a huge bonfire. Over 30 youth were there with my boss Nasolino (Scout leader, association president), and our group total was around 50. I had everyone tell part of a story and take a cookie from the bag. That was a success. We integrated rural mythology into a story of a donkey that dies and is revived by a family that practices witchcraft.

That night, we all crept under our wool blankets in a row of 18 sardines in the pre-school room. We all slept soundly until 6 am when the roosters starting crowing. Saturday morning was busy. Meg and I got up to delegate responsibility on who would cook the egg sandwiches, warm the milk, clean the rooms, and wash the dishes. Everyone worked together. We ended the 1st weekend events with a circle where each person said something they learned and what they hoped to have happen during the 2nd weekend in Praia. I taped the entire thing, and was so emotional to hear the rural girls speaking up in such a positive way, the urban girls being so articulate about how they hope the rural girls will gain more confidence, etc. By the end of the circle, three of the Praia girls were crying, and even Meg and I had tears in our eyes.

The Praia girls especially talked about how this weekend has changed them and opened them to new experiences. They were so grateful for the warmth and generosity of their hosts. Later that day at my house, my water girl Nha would remark on how they had cried. It is unheard of in rural areas to cry in public unless you are mourning the death of someone close. They were a bit shocked to see girls cry because they would miss them. We left on a high note, and the Praia girls challenged them all to show up next weekend or they would seek them out. After all, now they knew where they lived...