Non-gender specific Man really is a social animal. Everything we do is in one way or another a product of those around us. When we run off into the wild we are still only rebelling against our inner nature. A key part of this society that so defines us is our community. Community can mean so many different things and take on so many different aspects but these communities are ultimately what decides our fate.
Or gives us a lift to Durban.
A few PCV's and myself spent Christmas at Malealea Lodge some place in the middle west of Lesotho. Good times. We sat, drank, and ate. More or less the things your supposed to do on vacation. I really came to appreciate my little Peace Corps community as we shared in the yule tide. Whatever that is. (I like to picture a wave of presents coming down out of the mountains in a giant wave that cuts you off from shore and any rational, economic control on your money).
In that case community gave me something to do and a feeling of home (however fleeting).
Having traveled around now for a bit I've realized that I belong to another community. One I've always kind of taken for granted.
I'm American!
Don't worry, this isn't going to turn into a "I love America! Screw the world!" type of post.
So there I was at Malealea lodge, enjoying myself, sitting at the bar (as we sometimes have been known to do). Were talking with some Canadians who are doing a tour of South Africa and I happen to say "oh, I'm from the Chicago Area" (easier to say than to explain where DeKalb is). A guy sitting at the bar turns around and says "really? Where at?"
"DeKalb" Kevin said, expecting the guy to be stumped.
"DeKalb? Where NIU is at. I'm from Kankakee." explained the man in the green shirt. "My parents both went to NIU. What brings you to Lesotho?"
After some explanation of my mission here with Peace Corps and hearing about how he and his wife work with the International Aids Vaccine Intuitive in Zambia and hang out with PCV's all the time, Bob in the green shirt asks,
"Where are you off to next?"
"We're heading over to Durban the day after tomorrow. How about you?"
"We'll be leaving for Durban at the same time! You should tag along." Bob offered.
So I did.
Along with this other PCV from Namibia we happened to run into.
Good times had by all.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
A rant on Politics
Money is great! I mean, really, it’s a cool idea. I do stuff, and they give me little bits of paper that I can give to someone else who will add some numbers for me. With these numbers I can go some place and trade numbers, that don’t even EXIST on paper unless I make them print the numbers out, for cool things!
Like Senate seats!
But I don’t have many numbers. At least not enough to buy myself a spot in the U.S. Senate. Do you think Blago takes credit?
As I’m sure most of you who would be reading this know, Mr. Rod Blagoiavich (not even going to try to spell it right) was arrested for trying to sell, among other things, Mr. Obama’s former Senate seat. Why he would do this, I’m not so sure. Is he that hard up for cash? Is he a celpto? Maybe he has a money bin thats running low.
Dude, you have like 5 houses, have a garage sale or something.
Perhaps the second most common statement people make to me is something along the lines of “when you run for Senate…”, or “when you’re President…” as if simply because I speak well (“you have a great voice.” First most common) and like politics its destined to happen.
I have no recollection of anyone asking me what I want.
A friend of mine once questioned “why did you join Peace Corps?” I gave her the closest thing to an answer I could at the time, save the world, help people, become a better man. She said it in that voice that means “why would someone like you do something like that?” So I asked back, “why do you think I joined Peace Corps?”
“To advance your political carrier.”
Can’t say I’ve ever been more hurt before. Where did you people get this idea? I mean really? It seems people think that my Peace Corps branch is growing out of the Politics limb which is connected to the tree of my life.
Your wrong.
The reason I love politics (and the only thing that MIGHT lead me to EVER run for office, something I don’t want to do, but will if people think I’d be good at it) and the reason I joined Peace Corps are limbs of the same branch.
Cheese alert.
I genuinely, honestly, with all my heart believe the world can be a better place. Yet this can only happen if someone works for it. Someone like me. I think that politics (policy, law, justice) is an effective way to MAKE the world a better place, a way for me to ensure that the sun shines bright and the rainbows are pretty. Peace Corps is the same. I, Kevin P. Malone, have to do something to reach the dream. If I want the world to be a better place I need to do it. And Peace Corps is how I choose to do that.
So lay off dude!
Getting enough numbers in the bank to be a Senator would help make the world a better place too.
Speaking of numbers in the bank, I’m going to Durban for New Years! If anyone wants to give me a nice x-mass gift, some money in the bank would help a ton. My dad can deposit it if you like.
That’s my x-mass wish list. Numbers in the bank.
Merry Christmas if I don’t post before then!
Like Senate seats!
But I don’t have many numbers. At least not enough to buy myself a spot in the U.S. Senate. Do you think Blago takes credit?
As I’m sure most of you who would be reading this know, Mr. Rod Blagoiavich (not even going to try to spell it right) was arrested for trying to sell, among other things, Mr. Obama’s former Senate seat. Why he would do this, I’m not so sure. Is he that hard up for cash? Is he a celpto? Maybe he has a money bin thats running low.
Dude, you have like 5 houses, have a garage sale or something.
Perhaps the second most common statement people make to me is something along the lines of “when you run for Senate…”, or “when you’re President…” as if simply because I speak well (“you have a great voice.” First most common) and like politics its destined to happen.
I have no recollection of anyone asking me what I want.
A friend of mine once questioned “why did you join Peace Corps?” I gave her the closest thing to an answer I could at the time, save the world, help people, become a better man. She said it in that voice that means “why would someone like you do something like that?” So I asked back, “why do you think I joined Peace Corps?”
“To advance your political carrier.”
Can’t say I’ve ever been more hurt before. Where did you people get this idea? I mean really? It seems people think that my Peace Corps branch is growing out of the Politics limb which is connected to the tree of my life.
Your wrong.
The reason I love politics (and the only thing that MIGHT lead me to EVER run for office, something I don’t want to do, but will if people think I’d be good at it) and the reason I joined Peace Corps are limbs of the same branch.
Cheese alert.
I genuinely, honestly, with all my heart believe the world can be a better place. Yet this can only happen if someone works for it. Someone like me. I think that politics (policy, law, justice) is an effective way to MAKE the world a better place, a way for me to ensure that the sun shines bright and the rainbows are pretty. Peace Corps is the same. I, Kevin P. Malone, have to do something to reach the dream. If I want the world to be a better place I need to do it. And Peace Corps is how I choose to do that.
So lay off dude!
Getting enough numbers in the bank to be a Senator would help make the world a better place too.
Speaking of numbers in the bank, I’m going to Durban for New Years! If anyone wants to give me a nice x-mass gift, some money in the bank would help a ton. My dad can deposit it if you like.
That’s my x-mass wish list. Numbers in the bank.
Merry Christmas if I don’t post before then!
Thursday, November 20, 2008
The Tragedy of it all.
My dad’s wife (step-mother?) Peggy just got back from a trip to Nigeria with a travel nursing program. She shot me an e-mail talking a little about what was going on and how it was. A line from that has stuck with me.
She said “They are richer than we are in many ways, if you know what I mean.”
I do know what you mean.
The people here, at least in Lesotho, are truly amazing. They have a sense of community I have never experienced before. They do things for each other that in America we wouldn’t even think of let alone do. They are friendly, welcoming, hard working. The potential is incredible!
And this is where the tragedy of it all really lies.
In the CHED program it is my job to “facilitate” projects. That means I just help get them organized and off the ground but leave the real work to the Basotho. In my short time here I have experienced that potential I spoke of, and seen how little initiative many have. To make an unfair, blanket criticism of the entire culture, most of this amazing potential is wasted. Largely because most people can “made due” with the little they have many don’t even try to better their position. There’s no ambition to make their community a better place, to work hard to make everyone’s lives improve. You see how much they could accomplish if they stuck with it and tried.
But they don’t.
This is hard hard work.
Keep in mind that this is just a generalization and as with most generalizations it is unfair and not a true representation of all involved. There are many many Basotho who do work hard for their community, who really do understand and utilize their potential. But the few who don’t really set the rest back.
She said “They are richer than we are in many ways, if you know what I mean.”
I do know what you mean.
The people here, at least in Lesotho, are truly amazing. They have a sense of community I have never experienced before. They do things for each other that in America we wouldn’t even think of let alone do. They are friendly, welcoming, hard working. The potential is incredible!
And this is where the tragedy of it all really lies.
In the CHED program it is my job to “facilitate” projects. That means I just help get them organized and off the ground but leave the real work to the Basotho. In my short time here I have experienced that potential I spoke of, and seen how little initiative many have. To make an unfair, blanket criticism of the entire culture, most of this amazing potential is wasted. Largely because most people can “made due” with the little they have many don’t even try to better their position. There’s no ambition to make their community a better place, to work hard to make everyone’s lives improve. You see how much they could accomplish if they stuck with it and tried.
But they don’t.
This is hard hard work.
Keep in mind that this is just a generalization and as with most generalizations it is unfair and not a true representation of all involved. There are many many Basotho who do work hard for their community, who really do understand and utilize their potential. But the few who don’t really set the rest back.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
An Ode to Life
Life is a strange thing. As we stand on the precipice of today we look out at the horizon of our lives and see the mountain tops of jobs, the vast Oceans of marriage, and the open fields of possibilities. We see these obstacles and opportunities and recognize them for what they are. We use our rational abilities to break down the mountain, find the path to the top, understand the value and danger of each peak, each path, each cliff face. We understand the oceans can bring us both happiness and disaster, we realize the horizon is a dangerous, glorious place.
So we plan. We plot. We think about it.
Yet some times as our heads are turned upwards, our minds milling on the possibilities, as we diligently march toward the future, we forget about the snakes in the grass. Those things that have no part in your life and you none in theirs. Dangers that are happy to leave you be and you’d as soon ignore. When you least expect it, happily trudging along, you step on the poor beast and the Snake bites you in the ass.
Let me assure you, when a snake bites you in the ass you forget about the mountains and oceans.
I posted something like this on facebook maybe a year or so ago. I often think about it, the analogy of the snake and the challenge of the mountains. It’s really unfair, I happen to be a fan of snakes in general. (They have always been a symbol of wisdom). I thought I would re-write it and re-post it.
I think about it because it often strikes me as true. People spent a lot of their lives thinking about the future, stressing about the “big things” in life, yet the issues that cause us the most trouble are more often then not the ones we don’t even notice. They are things that wouldn’t make it into an A&E special about our lives. These things are seemingly inconsequential. But they hurt.
Its been a hard November for me. A lot has happened that has kept me on my toes and out of bed. Stress, worry, pressure. Things have “gone down”, much of which I don’t feel like sharing in a public forum. No one thing is really of much consequence but the sum of all the parts adds up fast.
It has been kind of nice to be around other PCV’s and be able to forget my worries for a bit, but like most things it only masks the problems. I still have to figure stuff out, work out (wet) problems, and come to conclusions.
The ball lands in my court just when I thought it was half-time.
So we plan. We plot. We think about it.
Yet some times as our heads are turned upwards, our minds milling on the possibilities, as we diligently march toward the future, we forget about the snakes in the grass. Those things that have no part in your life and you none in theirs. Dangers that are happy to leave you be and you’d as soon ignore. When you least expect it, happily trudging along, you step on the poor beast and the Snake bites you in the ass.
Let me assure you, when a snake bites you in the ass you forget about the mountains and oceans.
I posted something like this on facebook maybe a year or so ago. I often think about it, the analogy of the snake and the challenge of the mountains. It’s really unfair, I happen to be a fan of snakes in general. (They have always been a symbol of wisdom). I thought I would re-write it and re-post it.
I think about it because it often strikes me as true. People spent a lot of their lives thinking about the future, stressing about the “big things” in life, yet the issues that cause us the most trouble are more often then not the ones we don’t even notice. They are things that wouldn’t make it into an A&E special about our lives. These things are seemingly inconsequential. But they hurt.
Its been a hard November for me. A lot has happened that has kept me on my toes and out of bed. Stress, worry, pressure. Things have “gone down”, much of which I don’t feel like sharing in a public forum. No one thing is really of much consequence but the sum of all the parts adds up fast.
It has been kind of nice to be around other PCV’s and be able to forget my worries for a bit, but like most things it only masks the problems. I still have to figure stuff out, work out (wet) problems, and come to conclusions.
The ball lands in my court just when I thought it was half-time.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
My Bane
It was Ben Franklyn I think who said “Beer is proof that god loves us.” Or something along those lines. Theological issues aside, being a 24 year old male, I’m inclined to agree! (cheers!) But if Beer is proof of God’s love, then the devil has devised something even more devious to prove his hate. The Rooster.
I recall growing up seeing cartoon images of this noble creature sitting atop the barn, watching diligently for the coming of the new day. The rooster, lord of the barnyard, herald of Apollo, would cock-his-doodle-doo the moment the golden life giving orb crested the horizon. The humble farmer, sound asleep next to his homely wife, would cheerfully awaken at the call and begin an honest days work, the wife none the wiser.
Propaganda.
Lies.
The truth is much more chilling and not near as noble. For starters, the farmer, awaken from blissful slumber would be angry. The rooster, never content to simply call his message from the safety of the barn roof, dwells in the lowly places, waiting in ambush. He sneaks his feathery way under the farmer’s very window, to ensure this harpy’s cry will reach its unsuspecting victim with maximum effect. And like the cry of the harpy, the farmer, sailing happily through slumberland, is drawn to the smashing rocks of wakefulness. All the happy thoughts and dreams, all his hopes and aspirations, are doomed form the moment this foul foul begins his days work. Yes, this bringer of doom is a master at his craft, finding the perfect angle, the ideal pitch, the precise moment when your dreams are sweetest and thus you are most vulnerable. Ripped from Slumberland, Shanghaied back to bitter reality, the dreamer is left to chase the wisps of fading drams.
And the real tragedy of it all, the fact that changes this simple event from a mere nuisance to an out right act of evil, is that the sun, that sweet, warm, wonderful orb, is still an hour from rising.
I have no love for the rooster.
I recall growing up seeing cartoon images of this noble creature sitting atop the barn, watching diligently for the coming of the new day. The rooster, lord of the barnyard, herald of Apollo, would cock-his-doodle-doo the moment the golden life giving orb crested the horizon. The humble farmer, sound asleep next to his homely wife, would cheerfully awaken at the call and begin an honest days work, the wife none the wiser.
Propaganda.
Lies.
The truth is much more chilling and not near as noble. For starters, the farmer, awaken from blissful slumber would be angry. The rooster, never content to simply call his message from the safety of the barn roof, dwells in the lowly places, waiting in ambush. He sneaks his feathery way under the farmer’s very window, to ensure this harpy’s cry will reach its unsuspecting victim with maximum effect. And like the cry of the harpy, the farmer, sailing happily through slumberland, is drawn to the smashing rocks of wakefulness. All the happy thoughts and dreams, all his hopes and aspirations, are doomed form the moment this foul foul begins his days work. Yes, this bringer of doom is a master at his craft, finding the perfect angle, the ideal pitch, the precise moment when your dreams are sweetest and thus you are most vulnerable. Ripped from Slumberland, Shanghaied back to bitter reality, the dreamer is left to chase the wisps of fading drams.
And the real tragedy of it all, the fact that changes this simple event from a mere nuisance to an out right act of evil, is that the sun, that sweet, warm, wonderful orb, is still an hour from rising.
I have no love for the rooster.
Election Day! Woot!
I must say, it is strange not waking up well before dawn to work the day away. Today is the big day. At the risk of sounding overly dramatic, I would say the fate of the world rests in the balance!
And I’m not there to help.
If Obama wins today, it will mean something great to the world and to myself. To put it into perspective, an Obama victory would mean the first progressive-liberal President in my lifetime. I will finally be able to see what true liberalism (in the modern American sense) can do for the world. Lets recap.
I was born in 1984. My Commander and Chief at that time was none other than the great conservative hero Ronald Regan! Luckily (as I have learned) I don’t remember much of him. I imagine I wasn’t a happy infant. Nor would I have been a happy young child if I understood what was going on. Next George Bush the First then became President. My first memories are of King Bush the First. I recall a few snippets of news relating to the first Gulf War. I recall a number of public address’ interrupting my nighttime MacGyver watching with my mom though I couldn’t tell you what was happening.
Then, in 3rd grade, Bill Clinton was elected! For the record, I voted for Ross Perrot (sp?) because I felt sorry for him. (I felt he should get at least ONE vote in my 3rd grade class!) Now Clinton, in all his great Democratness wasn’t really a progressive liberal. However much Rush Limbaugh might have wanted us to believe he was a Communist or Evil Socialist, the truth is he was moderate. NAFTA, not really progressive. And with all the shutdowns of congress, he was a stalling tactic at best, holding back the tide of Conservative bull-crap (self censorship, good job!) for a few years. So much potential.
And now we have George Bush the Second. I hardly need to go into details about the evil’s brought down on us by King Bush the Second.
By all accounts, tomorrow will be the beginning of the Obama years. A true progressive, though pragmatic (taking after my own heart). The potential is great and the optimism is even greater.
So I would like to make this warning. At the heart of it, Mr. Obama is still just one man. His power, however great, is still limited. It would be folly for us to think that now, with one office filled, we will have the utopia we have all been dreaming of. It would be a mistake for us to assume great change will sweep the nation on Nov. 5th. The change that needs to happen is only fractionally possible through the oval office, and will require a level of commitment and hard work we haven’t seen in decades (if at all). The true change rests in us, the people. The work that needs to be done must be done by you. We need to be the change we want to see in the world.
The real work, has just begun.
And I’m not there to help.
If Obama wins today, it will mean something great to the world and to myself. To put it into perspective, an Obama victory would mean the first progressive-liberal President in my lifetime. I will finally be able to see what true liberalism (in the modern American sense) can do for the world. Lets recap.
I was born in 1984. My Commander and Chief at that time was none other than the great conservative hero Ronald Regan! Luckily (as I have learned) I don’t remember much of him. I imagine I wasn’t a happy infant. Nor would I have been a happy young child if I understood what was going on. Next George Bush the First then became President. My first memories are of King Bush the First. I recall a few snippets of news relating to the first Gulf War. I recall a number of public address’ interrupting my nighttime MacGyver watching with my mom though I couldn’t tell you what was happening.
Then, in 3rd grade, Bill Clinton was elected! For the record, I voted for Ross Perrot (sp?) because I felt sorry for him. (I felt he should get at least ONE vote in my 3rd grade class!) Now Clinton, in all his great Democratness wasn’t really a progressive liberal. However much Rush Limbaugh might have wanted us to believe he was a Communist or Evil Socialist, the truth is he was moderate. NAFTA, not really progressive. And with all the shutdowns of congress, he was a stalling tactic at best, holding back the tide of Conservative bull-crap (self censorship, good job!) for a few years. So much potential.
And now we have George Bush the Second. I hardly need to go into details about the evil’s brought down on us by King Bush the Second.
By all accounts, tomorrow will be the beginning of the Obama years. A true progressive, though pragmatic (taking after my own heart). The potential is great and the optimism is even greater.
So I would like to make this warning. At the heart of it, Mr. Obama is still just one man. His power, however great, is still limited. It would be folly for us to think that now, with one office filled, we will have the utopia we have all been dreaming of. It would be a mistake for us to assume great change will sweep the nation on Nov. 5th. The change that needs to happen is only fractionally possible through the oval office, and will require a level of commitment and hard work we haven’t seen in decades (if at all). The true change rests in us, the people. The work that needs to be done must be done by you. We need to be the change we want to see in the world.
The real work, has just begun.
Friday, October 10, 2008
A tale of foolishness
I would like you to imagine for a moment a man (for I think I can call myself that now) getting ready for an adventure that will take him across continents and oceans. He is packing his belongings and chooses (poorly) to pack three pairs of pants. Fast forward four months. Having only three pairs of pants, this young man (a compromise) discovers much to his dismay, that Africa is not kind on Pants. Infact, it is downright cruel! He wears them every day (for to go without pants would be shameful) and this only adds to their lament! The holes get wider and the grease stains darker. He could buy pants here, but he would then have to conform to a bizarre, “French” fashion he is not too comfortable with (not that he has ever been comfortable with fashion, which is why this new crisis is all the more worrisome!) The fool, the half wit, the boy!
I’ve been reading too much, who says “half wit” these days?
I’ve been reading too much, who says “half wit” these days?
Sequels never live up to the original.
By chance I was at “the lodge” the other day and caught a re-airing of the 2nd presidential debate on Al Jazzeira (sp?). Well, it was too good to last. The last debate was so inspiring and “dream like” that I got my hopes up. I should know better by now. It seems just when I think something is going good, just when I see a real change in the world for the better, something comes along and ruins it. The second debate was far too much bickering. I was yelling at the TV screen (much to Daniel’s, the short Basotho barman, dismay) for Obama to DROP IT! Take the higher road! I was begging McCain to let some low blows slide and not get into a tug of war way off topic!
A friend of mine described the first debate as “two ships passing in the night”. If that’s the case this is a full scale maritime disaster! Cannons were rolled out, boarding parties mustered and all for… nothing. In the end neither accomplished much than showing that they too can be petty.
I still love Obama but dude, come on.
A friend of mine described the first debate as “two ships passing in the night”. If that’s the case this is a full scale maritime disaster! Cannons were rolled out, boarding parties mustered and all for… nothing. In the end neither accomplished much than showing that they too can be petty.
I still love Obama but dude, come on.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Old Latin sayings make me sound smart!
“Caelum non animum mutant qui trans mare current”
“They change their sky but not their soul who cross the ocean”
-Horace
Look at me, all intellectual and stuff quoting some dead guy in Latin! I came across this quotation while eating pizza with far to little sauce at a little place in Butha-Buthe in Lesotho. For obvious reasons this quotation appealed to me. I have since been trying to determine the truth of it. While on the one hand I can say the sky has changed (the stars at night are something you should behold. The constellations are all wrong, the moon upside down! The milky way a bright belt across the bulging sky!) I wonder about the second half of that, the consistency of the soul. At the risk of getting to “existential” I’d like to give you some insight into my unchanged (or changed?) soul.
I am, at the heart of it, inclined to agree with Horace. On the one hand I can say without a doubt that I have changed. I have grown in ways I never thought I would (in just 4 months!) and I have learned things I would have otherwise never known. These changes and growths, however profound, have done little to change my core beliefs. Infact, I can say now that I believe more strongly in my world view. The hopeless idealist, in the face of stark reality, has nowhere else to turn but inward, back to the idealism that drove him to reality. At the core, my morals and values are the same. I still, despite the idiocy I see, the selfishness that America can only HOPE to achieve, the single minded attitudes that are so harmful, believe that every person is, at the core good. My sky is different, for sure, but my soul, for better or worse, will never change.
One thing I will never forgive is pizza without sauce. Who taught them how to make pizza? Who would be so reckless and unforgiving!?!
“They change their sky but not their soul who cross the ocean”
-Horace
Look at me, all intellectual and stuff quoting some dead guy in Latin! I came across this quotation while eating pizza with far to little sauce at a little place in Butha-Buthe in Lesotho. For obvious reasons this quotation appealed to me. I have since been trying to determine the truth of it. While on the one hand I can say the sky has changed (the stars at night are something you should behold. The constellations are all wrong, the moon upside down! The milky way a bright belt across the bulging sky!) I wonder about the second half of that, the consistency of the soul. At the risk of getting to “existential” I’d like to give you some insight into my unchanged (or changed?) soul.
I am, at the heart of it, inclined to agree with Horace. On the one hand I can say without a doubt that I have changed. I have grown in ways I never thought I would (in just 4 months!) and I have learned things I would have otherwise never known. These changes and growths, however profound, have done little to change my core beliefs. Infact, I can say now that I believe more strongly in my world view. The hopeless idealist, in the face of stark reality, has nowhere else to turn but inward, back to the idealism that drove him to reality. At the core, my morals and values are the same. I still, despite the idiocy I see, the selfishness that America can only HOPE to achieve, the single minded attitudes that are so harmful, believe that every person is, at the core good. My sky is different, for sure, but my soul, for better or worse, will never change.
One thing I will never forgive is pizza without sauce. Who taught them how to make pizza? Who would be so reckless and unforgiving!?!
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