Grassroots VS. Non-Grassoots

I returned from one of the mining capitals yesterday. Whew. What a day of traveling. I met up with various HIV positive clients and interviewed them for our annual report. It was great to see people living positively with HIV. All smiles and whatnot. As for the report it's coming along nicely though we are having a duece of a time getting our health providers to fill out there forms. Ah, this non-grass roots level stuff is so different. Funding sucks.
Grassroots HIV work is a blast. I like roaming around and meeting people. Chatting with the locals about their health concerns.
"You know your baby won't die from diarrhea if you do this . . ."
"You know, condoms don't have HIV in them."
"You know, Peace Corps Volunteers don't get paid."
"I am not a spy."
"No, that will not transmit HIV."
"Ah, that's called Chancroid."

Oh, to be a grass roots guy on the ground. So this is what a "Career in Development" means. I still enjoy myself.

Locks

I chopped the locks. I had a blonde shag and now I have a clean cut look. One of quasi-professionalism. I try sometimes.
It is somewhat difficult to get a decent haircut in this country. The locals are unfamiliar to straight, thick, blonde hair. The chap that trimmed my hair was good. Slight perfectionist but that became an asset. It looks really good. I have not received a professional haircut in a very long time . . . it is refreshing. Sure it cost me a couple day's salary but I think ultimately it will be worth it. Plus, this hot season is killing me, not like up north where my village was, this place is hot.
The capital city is scorching. I sweat so much now. Walking to work makes me icky. Hopefully this semi-short hair cut will do it's job well.

Minor Surgery

Yesterday. I had the chance to watch a minor surgery; the cutting of an adult man's foreskin. It really was not that bad. Actually it was pretty fascinating. I'd never seen a surgery before. Sure, I've had wisdom teeth removed and a mole as well. This was slightly different. Seeing a man's anatomy removed with a scapel and scissors was odd.
I did not feel squeemish one bit. I was oddly curious. I did realize that I do not have what it takes to be a doctor . . . I cannot stand that long. Bad heals/arches or something. I think I learned a lot and it will definitely help out in my job. I think tomorrow I'll be observing some more. Yep. Male circumcision, what a hoot.

Mel Gibson's Movies

I watched Apocalypto. Hmmm. Okay, so Mayans are barbaric people. Oh, so conquistadors were a good thing. Well, it all makes sense now.
It was an interesting film. It takes itself seriously as an art-house film: subtitles in local dialect, all non-big-name actors. Long drawn out exposition. You want an art film that depicts Mayans? Watch the Fountain. That was crazy. This movie, Apocalypto was a joke. Mel Gibson is unable to make more than 2 dimensional characters. Braveheart - the English are so vile and evil. Tossing men out of towers. Raping brides on their wedding night. No depth. Just evil. His good guys are just really good men. No flaws. Wow, William Wallace isn't a brute. He knows French. Wow, Jaguar Paw is a good day. Playing with his kids. His only flaw is that he feels fear at the beginning of the film. If Gibson wants to be taken seriously he needs to make a movie with characters that have multiple dimensions. For instance.
Battlestar Galactica is pretty cool. The Cylons are mysterious. We find out that cylons are hidden on board the Galactica. But we feel for the characters. They don't know there potentially evil. And look at the main heroes. They all have real big flaws. Adama is too military. The president has her own problems, cancer. Apollo acts like a little adolescent that needs to be spanked. Starbuck is a cocky pilot that needs to be put in her place. Such is the characters of Season One.
Mel Gibson. You have potential, please make a movie that flows like a blockbuster but has characters that grip you.

Dress Shoes

Certain dress shoes should not be worn by men. This coming from a guy that routinely wears black dress shoes with brown tweed trousers, is sad. My excuse is that they are so covered in dirt they appear brown before the scrutiny. I wish to talk about shoes that make a sound. I wish to talk about soles. Some dress shoes make a dull thud. This is an onomatopœia that is desired. One can pretend he is manly and wearing boots. My shoes make a “thud.” I pretend they are the Sam Elliot of dress shoes.
Some people wear shoes that go, “click.” These sound like women’s shoes. If I hear these I expect to turn around and see a pair of pumps. Or stilettos depending on my mood. I turn around and instead see a full grown man. Does not matter how dapper you look, the click adds a touch of confusion. At the beginning of the conversion I am still lost thinking about your soles. Why did they click? Why not a thud? This momentary train wreck of thought is all I need, I am derailed.
And so, please wear soles befitting Sam Elliot.

Work Work Work.

I am enjoying work. It’s a different pace from usual. I lived in the bush. That was unpredictable. Sometimes fast – usually slow. I worked for the Peace Corps. I taught the technical aspect of our work, the HIV/AIDS. That was smooth with a few fast bits. But this is weird. It’s not that the pace is ungodly fast; I am in a completely new environment and have no confidence in what I’m doing. I haven’t played my strengths yet. Not that I should complain . . . I haven’t even finished an entire week yet. I’m still new. The paint hasn’t even dried. Once I get this funding thing under my belt I’ll feel more confident. At least the staff here is incredibly patient. They are the nicest people in Lusaka. I think I will do well here. And I want to do good here. I just feel that these co-workers of mine need to see me in my element. That means facilitating. I can teach with the greatest of ease. Unfortunately, I don’t know the ropes of this place yet.

Amsterdam, a layover.

On the way home, to Africa, I had a nice 12 hour layover in Amsterdam. What a gorgeous city. Giant brick buildings. Large canals surrounded by trees. Narrow buildings. Horse drawn carts delievering Heinekein to pubs. Tram cars. Bicycles galore. It was a wonderful city. But it had one noticable drawback. The incredible amount of young tourists wanting to get stoned. The city is filled with college aged people (typically males) looking for a coffee shop that has weed, mushrooms, and pictures of naked women. It was a weird vibe. I loved the architecture. The canals were gorgeous. The museums were amazing, but the droves of fratboys made a lasting impression. I could live there but the tourists would get to me. I wonder what other old European cities look like? Are they similar but without the boys looking for sin? I might have to check out these places at some point. The Balkans have always inspired me. I bet Sophia is nice or anywhere in Croatia. I might check those out at some time. At the end of my time in Amsterdam I got back on the train and headed back to Schiphol Airport. I bought a few magazines and readied myself for the long flight back to Africa it was a nice time in Amsterdam but I am ready to create new adventures in a new place.