So, what exactly is it that you do over there?

As a fellow, my role is being constantly developed based on skills that I bring to the office and the ever-changing needs of our clients. For now, I am assigned to provide support for Aftercare Managers (or, national social workers) during home visits. These homes are located in very traditional and remote villages. “Support” at this point has meant taking pictures of the families, suggesting follow-up questions after seeing the Aftercare Manager’s written notes, playing with kids while the parents speak to our staff, and simply being an extra body accompanying the female staff for long trips.

Most of the villages I am assigned to are anywhere from two and a half to four hours away from the office. Trips to the field are the best AND the worst days. Sitting for hours at a time on roads with tanker-sized pot holes has to be the most aggravating part of the aftercare department’s role. I woke up the morning after my first field experience with a severe headache from what I can only guess was whiplash (not only do we rock side-to-side constantly, but we also enjoy sudden stops regularly…for which I must be grateful: the less-appealing alternative is slamming head-on into large trucks). Being in the field, however, spending time with the families, getting to hear their stories firsthand, and seeing their smiles when I commend their bravery for speaking out against their oppressors** has, by far, been my favorite part of the job.

Along with these home visits, I am currently re-defining our curriculum for using local social work students as interns and trying to build relationships with reputable schools of social work in the region. Through focus groups, I’ve been able to solicit ideas from the entire Aftercare staff. And just yesterday, I met with the head of the social work department at one local university. Starting November 18^th, I will be responsible for supervising the students and trying out the new curriculum.

Other projects in the works include building up our resource library for training the national staff and, ultimately, better serving our clients; providing support for and participating in various aftercare initiatives, such as our recent medical camps, and upcoming children’s festival; and being a liaison between our organization and other local NGOs.

> On our way to a village.












> A cluster of some really nice homes in one village.












> One family even rigged up a pretty sweet "restroom" in which to bathe...it is NOT used as a toilet. That's gross. THAT business is typically taken care of on the edges of the villages, thank you very much.











**The victims we work with risk everything to speak up about their circumstances. They must claim their status as forced laborers to government officials, who often have little or no compassion for people of their caste. Many times, the government officials have allowed the perpetrators to be present at this hearing, and the bonded laborers are threatened throughout. In one instance, it took a small child to tell the truth before any of the adult laborers would finally admit to the daily abuse they endured. In another instance, freed laborers were surrounded by an angry mob paid by their former owner as our staff was returning them to a village. When I think of how intimidated I get speaking in front of a group of supportive peers, I just cannot even begin to understand the courage it must take for those who have been taught they are worthless from birth to demand justice. Humbling.

Fahrenheit 451? Try Celsius 232.8, Mr. Bradbury.

Attention all future visitors! NOW is the time to come. The weather (on non-rainy days) is absolutely delightful. It almost feels like a warm Spring day in the Silicon Valley…almost. That is, if that Spring day causes head-to-toe perspiration on a person walking from her front door to the street.

Speaking of the street…the word on ours is: do NOT come in May-the hottest month of the year. By arriving in October, my hope is to grow accustomed to the heat as it bears down on us in the coming months leading to this region’s summer. Thus far, it’s been quite pleasant. I have only lost sleep one night due to the heat.

Superman

An afterthought on our washing machine's status...

Yesterday, I finally broke down and hand-washed five buckets full of clothes, sheets, etc. There was no alternative. I'm not complaining, mind you. It's what I was expecting to do for every wash. No, the reason this is noteworthy stems from our landlord's response to the death and destruction of our machine:

Superman, as my roommates have lovingly** dubbed him, has decided we are lying about the irreparable damage done and refuses to replace it until he is able to assess it personally. As he is on holiday until who knows when and I was down to ZERO clean clothes options, I was forced to finally hike my skirt up (and tuck it in) while I squatted over the buckets. At least I get to count the scrubbing as my second workout this week! You should see the size of my guns now!
Prepped ahead of time by my roommates, Superman's assumption that we were lying to him did not come as a surprise. Normally, I would have been indignant. In his case, I just had to nod and say "that sounds about right."

Apparently, the girls had requested some help in eradicating the colony of cockroaches that had settled comfortably into the kitchen's cupboards (where they still remain-I see at least 4 every time I enter the kitchen). Despite the presence of a large cockroach scuttling across the floor in front of him, Superman insisted there were no cockroaches. Similarly, he was convinced they had lied about being volunteers until he was informed by one of our co-workers that they, in fact, were NOT being paid for their work. Oh, Superman...how far the mighty have fallen.

**The nickname sounds fairly close to his "good name," as they say here. I personally think he earned this nickname out of sheer irony.

**Also, my roommates asked me to point out the inaccuracies in the image above: apparently, one should add a large, rotund belly, rather than bulging pecks; and a flapping comb-over on his head, rather than a red cape off his back...

BWahahaha!

Just wanted to show off these FABULOUS pics sent by loved ones back home:

Kara (as Share Bear) and Siena (as Cheer Bear) Piro's first Halloween...This pic kills me because a) the twins are adorable and its so fun to watch them grow, even from afar, and b) I totally had Cheer Bear! Good choice Grandma Hofmockel (the costumes' maker). Mom and Dad Piro (Alissa, my freshman year roommate at Pepperdine, and Squale, her uber-talented hubby and now a dear friend) went as Jem and He-Man to complete the children's toys theme. LOVE IT!!
The pic below is one of the girls in summer dresses from Auntie Kim that Alissa sent to me-are they NOT just the cutest??!

And this sweet cherub was born a month after the twins, to my cousins, Mark and Robin Martin. Annika got to buzz through Mark's office in her bee costume. I'm pretty sure I know how the office reacted, but I wonder what she thought of it all...Rob?

Thanks for sending those you guys!! Keep 'em coming....

Don't mess with the Mast-ah!

At first appearance, our office is incredibly thoughtful, joyful, professional, self-less, and any other number of positive descriptors. But don't visit us on Friday mornings! From 9 am to 10 am, our staff regularly divides itself into six ruthless, power-hungry teams...all set on one thing: winning. My normally mild-mannered cohorts, who have regularly given up a night of sleep for the others, epitomize the word "competition" in our weekly trivia game.

Following the raucous chanting, during week one in the office, I came upon this scene and honestly had no idea how to respond! I felt like the bartered price of an auto ride as the teams "discussed" who got the newbie.

The game is administered by "the master," a wisened, old monkey...carved into a coconut. His rules prevail-he can award points as he sees fit, and just the same, he can take points away. And, what, you may ask, is the prize? Why, pride, of course...and the honor of being responsible for "the master" until the next round. We're pretty simple folk.

It is amazing to me how much you can learn about others in such a setting. Husbands have stooped so low as to blame their wives for their tardiness (an automatic deduction of points), and in the same breath claimed they should get points for their chivalry in entering the room last...At the other end of the spectrum, there is an ample amount of grace given during the game, as well: we got points despite my giving the wrong answer because I had at least made an attempt in my first week; and teams have gotten points for breaking into spontaneous song.

Seriously, though, I see this ritual as a necessary part of the work. To be able to let go and laugh in spite of the wickedness we see day to day restores hope for the world, and builds trust (strange, but true) among us. It is a part of our culture to work hard, but it's healthy to not take ourselves too seriously. And this transfers to the field.

The victims see these bonds among my teammates, and are comforted. They seem to appreciate the willingness of our staff to laugh with them, and share their burdens and fears openly (NOT usually the case in the wider culture). So, really, the master's game is essential to our mission ;o).

Okay, maybe/maybe not, but I have acquired a delightful amount of useless knowledge!

Did you know that:
- Hong Kong is made up of 235 islands??
- the Phillies are the losing-est team in sports history?? And that they've lost over 10,000 games?? (Congrats Phillies)
- the Tasmanian Devil cartoon character was created by WB to help save the endangered Australian critter from going extinct?

Working hard over here...Honest.

A nibble here, a nibble there

Staring up at me, with those beady little eyes, he seemed to be saying, “Do you mind? Your monstrous tush is in my way.” For that, he got his picture taken and posted here (see below) for all to view the uppity fellow who dared to pinch my rear this Sunday.

There I was, sitting on a local beach (YES, we have beaches!) listening to the unfolding story of one of our visitors, when I suddenly felt a painful sting. Despite my efforts to swat the source of my discomfort away, it struck again. Scrambling to get away from whatever was feasting on my flesh; my tiny nemesis boldly stood his ground. The fact that he was the size of my thumbnail had not deterred him from claiming the right-of-way...

Now, I can add the welt left by his attempt to move boulders to the ever-growing collection of leprosy-looking splotches covering my body. While I could post a picture of this new addition, that does not seem even remotely appropriate. Ahh, crab bites. Good times.

Some call it pumpkin bread, I like to call it "a little slice of Heaven"

Bearing teeth-rotting (but oh-so-delectable) candy corn and other fall delights, three compatriots joined us this weekend from another field office. The assembly line pictured, as well as the abundance of non-traditional (a.k.a. WESTERN) foods were the result of our iron chefs creativity...Martha Stewart would have been put to shame by the tastiness of our feast, which served about fifteen ravenous adults.

Following this goodness was a rousing game of Trivial Pursuit: Globetrotter Edition...it was strangely reminiscent of Thanksgiving, so we decided to say a big THANK YOU to all our supporters (my apologies for the "turkey-coma"-esque posture of the models ;o)) . We are truly grateful for your sacrifices and generosity.

And thank you, guests, for bringing HARVEST with you...what a treat!