I just designed a personal webpage! Please check it out and feel free to send me some feedback.
www.wix.com/marmelinds/lindsaymarmer
I'll still blog but this webpage is more of a "career-based page." I have a few interesting stories about some experiences with APEX Community Center, where I just started to volunteer, that will be coming soon... stay tuned!
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
My friend with HIV
Right before I left the Peace Corps, one of my closest Mauritanian friends decided to come clean to me. She'd been keeping a secret from me and her family for the last six months. She'd been diagnosed with HIV. She confided in me in a back bedroom of her husband's parents' house, while her two year old daughter played with the babysitter outside and her niece prepared lunch for us. My friend and I lay on floor together, between the mud walls, and cried and sweat until we couldn't tell the difference between the beads of salt water on our faces. We hushed our words, stifled our tears and wiped our sweat whenever her mother-in-law or anyone else would come into the room. No one else but her husband and I knew.
She told me her husband was sero-negative and she hadn't had her two year old daughter tested yet. I understood what she and I couldn't say- she didn't have the heart. She told me she'd contracted it from unsafe health care practices. She's only a pharmacist, not a nurse, but with the shortage of health care workers and the high cost of care, she'd been tending to her poor neighbor who she suspected had AIDS. She'd told me she thinks she got it from washing out the woman's sores. She holds her finger up to me and says, the infected blood must have seeped into a hangnail, that she never wore gloves. Well, this is what she told me anyhow.
However she may have encountered the virus, she'd contracted the deadly curse anyway. The kind and generous woman who'd befriended me from day one, who never used me for money, who taught me about the culture, and generously shared her meals and family love with me was handed a fate she certainly didn't deserve.
She called me yesterday to tell me she'd had another baby. She'd gone to the capital city to deliver; I think she told me through the static and delay that she'd had a Cesarean section. I asked if she would nurse and she said she would, for six months, because the water in Mauritania is too poor of quality to risk giving formula to her infant. She hasn't been taking any ARVs. She told me that she won't know if the baby is seropositive for another six months. Because of her situation, the baby still has about a one in three chance of contracting HIV as well.
Since I left, I've felt an unbearable guilt for leaving her. I haven't been good about keeping in bonded through the language barriers before. As a future MPH with a focus in international health, I'll most likely work on prevention of disease transmission for thousands of strangers in Africa during the course of my career but I can't prevent one of the ones I love the most in Mauritania from getting HIV. It's too late for her and maybe her baby, too.
So, when her credit ran out and our call ended, I lost it. I couldn't tell her how much I love her, I was at a loss for words in English, let alone the ability to find something encouraging to say in French. But when I think about her almost every day, I hope she feels and knows how much I care about her. I hope she knows from our conversations in the past that I'm dedicated to getting her and women like her the adequate care they deserve for a deadly disease that they don't deserve.
She told me her husband was sero-negative and she hadn't had her two year old daughter tested yet. I understood what she and I couldn't say- she didn't have the heart. She told me she'd contracted it from unsafe health care practices. She's only a pharmacist, not a nurse, but with the shortage of health care workers and the high cost of care, she'd been tending to her poor neighbor who she suspected had AIDS. She'd told me she thinks she got it from washing out the woman's sores. She holds her finger up to me and says, the infected blood must have seeped into a hangnail, that she never wore gloves. Well, this is what she told me anyhow.
However she may have encountered the virus, she'd contracted the deadly curse anyway. The kind and generous woman who'd befriended me from day one, who never used me for money, who taught me about the culture, and generously shared her meals and family love with me was handed a fate she certainly didn't deserve.
She called me yesterday to tell me she'd had another baby. She'd gone to the capital city to deliver; I think she told me through the static and delay that she'd had a Cesarean section. I asked if she would nurse and she said she would, for six months, because the water in Mauritania is too poor of quality to risk giving formula to her infant. She hasn't been taking any ARVs. She told me that she won't know if the baby is seropositive for another six months. Because of her situation, the baby still has about a one in three chance of contracting HIV as well.
Since I left, I've felt an unbearable guilt for leaving her. I haven't been good about keeping in bonded through the language barriers before. As a future MPH with a focus in international health, I'll most likely work on prevention of disease transmission for thousands of strangers in Africa during the course of my career but I can't prevent one of the ones I love the most in Mauritania from getting HIV. It's too late for her and maybe her baby, too.
So, when her credit ran out and our call ended, I lost it. I couldn't tell her how much I love her, I was at a loss for words in English, let alone the ability to find something encouraging to say in French. But when I think about her almost every day, I hope she feels and knows how much I care about her. I hope she knows from our conversations in the past that I'm dedicated to getting her and women like her the adequate care they deserve for a deadly disease that they don't deserve.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Playing Chess with My Career
After several of my internship possibilities fell through, I've been in a rut as to what to do. Do I stay in wonderful, fun New Orleans? Do I try to go overseas again? Do I go somewhere else domestically? To help me answer these questions, I met with a professor the other day. When she asked what I wanted, the answers just flowed. She helped me to plan my coursework so that I can leave New Orleans at the end of August and return to Maryland. I'll have to take a few more online classes, do my practicum and final public health analysis, and graduate with my MPH in December. Yet again, just like my decision to join the Peace Corps, it's one of those life changing descisions that flushes warmth into to my core, leaving the hair on my skin to stand straight up which makes me believe even more strongly that this is the right move. At the same time it awakens me to the challenges that lie ahead- that terrifying quest for employment. So, for about the last two weeks, I've been overwhelmed by an oxymoronic sense of bittersweet fear, calm, and elation.
Its calming because I know I'll be home for a beautiful MD fall again and home to stay. I'll be closer to loved ones and that trail in the woods behind my neighborhood that brings me peace. Moreover, I'll be that much closer to the wide world of opportunity, culture, and diversity that is DC to me. I can finally start to build a nest, get a cat and a car and maybe even a garden sooner rather than later. It's calming to know that I'll finally be settling into a career, hopefully (I still thought inshallah).
However, this decision also brings a piece of trepidation. One that has crept up like the aligators in the bayou since I realized that I'm leaving this swampland. I... LOVE... New Orleans. It is a wonderful experience that will be a part of me forever. The pride here, especially when the Saints took it all the way, moves me to tears sometimes... It's a beautiful city that values the importance of keeping fun in your life and has managed to survive the worst of the worst in America. Not only that, but I have met some of the most awesome people ever here. Intelligent, selfless and dedicated to advocating for those most in need, my future colleagues at Tulane inspire me everyday to be better. The panic comes from having to leave this.
The fear is also about finding a job. I know I am competent and an excellent catch for an employer, but its a tough world out there right now. I'm starting now to play what feels like a game of chess with my career, carefully plotting my moves to get to that queen. I've been researching and making lists of organizations, contacts, ideal job positions. It's a bit intimidating, I'm not gonna lie. So, please, if you are reading this, keep me in mind if you hear of any opportunities that might be a good fit! I'm looking for an internship for the fall that could lead into a real job when it's over.
Its calming because I know I'll be home for a beautiful MD fall again and home to stay. I'll be closer to loved ones and that trail in the woods behind my neighborhood that brings me peace. Moreover, I'll be that much closer to the wide world of opportunity, culture, and diversity that is DC to me. I can finally start to build a nest, get a cat and a car and maybe even a garden sooner rather than later. It's calming to know that I'll finally be settling into a career, hopefully (I still thought inshallah).
However, this decision also brings a piece of trepidation. One that has crept up like the aligators in the bayou since I realized that I'm leaving this swampland. I... LOVE... New Orleans. It is a wonderful experience that will be a part of me forever. The pride here, especially when the Saints took it all the way, moves me to tears sometimes... It's a beautiful city that values the importance of keeping fun in your life and has managed to survive the worst of the worst in America. Not only that, but I have met some of the most awesome people ever here. Intelligent, selfless and dedicated to advocating for those most in need, my future colleagues at Tulane inspire me everyday to be better. The panic comes from having to leave this.
The fear is also about finding a job. I know I am competent and an excellent catch for an employer, but its a tough world out there right now. I'm starting now to play what feels like a game of chess with my career, carefully plotting my moves to get to that queen. I've been researching and making lists of organizations, contacts, ideal job positions. It's a bit intimidating, I'm not gonna lie. So, please, if you are reading this, keep me in mind if you hear of any opportunities that might be a good fit! I'm looking for an internship for the fall that could lead into a real job when it's over.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Sometimes, I just can’t believe I went on this journey. This “life-changing experience” of spending two years in Mauritania, West Africa doesn’t feel like a natural change as was growing into adulthood. It’s more like waking up from a deep slumber, from a long, eerie dream, to find that my whole life as I once knew it has changed. Rip Van Winkle, Peace Corps style.
I’ve aged immensely; my body shows signs of the beating it took while living in a place with seemingly unbearable accommodations. Some loved ones and past relationships have died; friends now have spouses, kids, masters’ degrees and real jobs. Yet, here I am, a stranger to my own hometown, with no possessions and far from “settling down.” All that I have to talk about with those who are still around is this past life, this crazy dream.
With access to internet, I could catch glimpses of home while I was in dreamland. It’s just that this contact was distant and surreal, a flashing bedroom clock that manifests itself in a dream, appearing as the moonlight poking through the trees while you run through the woods with the monsters of poverty at your back; the inflected voices of emails chirp like the bats of the subconscious.
As I wake up in a panic in the United States, it has taken me a minute to make sense of it all, to figure out what things like “tweeting on an iphone” mean or what I missed while sleeping through the inauguration parties of the first African-American president.
I find myself back in this world that is both familiar and strange and that I, too, am grateful for that American passport. It’s easier to appreciate what I’ve deprived of, for example good food and a comfortable bed. It’s easier, still, to find joy in the often overlooked minutiae of life, like freedom of religion, gender-equality, enforced laws against slavery, and the right to a fair election.
It’s not that I was given rose-colored glasses, as my friend Becca said, upon leaving Peace Corps, but that America is a rosy place, compared to that eerie dream that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to recount in its entirety. I will say, however, that I can smile patiently while waiting in line in the air-conditioned convenience store, knowing that my turn is just as equal as the person in front of or behind me.
I’ve aged immensely; my body shows signs of the beating it took while living in a place with seemingly unbearable accommodations. Some loved ones and past relationships have died; friends now have spouses, kids, masters’ degrees and real jobs. Yet, here I am, a stranger to my own hometown, with no possessions and far from “settling down.” All that I have to talk about with those who are still around is this past life, this crazy dream.
With access to internet, I could catch glimpses of home while I was in dreamland. It’s just that this contact was distant and surreal, a flashing bedroom clock that manifests itself in a dream, appearing as the moonlight poking through the trees while you run through the woods with the monsters of poverty at your back; the inflected voices of emails chirp like the bats of the subconscious.
As I wake up in a panic in the United States, it has taken me a minute to make sense of it all, to figure out what things like “tweeting on an iphone” mean or what I missed while sleeping through the inauguration parties of the first African-American president.
I find myself back in this world that is both familiar and strange and that I, too, am grateful for that American passport. It’s easier to appreciate what I’ve deprived of, for example good food and a comfortable bed. It’s easier, still, to find joy in the often overlooked minutiae of life, like freedom of religion, gender-equality, enforced laws against slavery, and the right to a fair election.
It’s not that I was given rose-colored glasses, as my friend Becca said, upon leaving Peace Corps, but that America is a rosy place, compared to that eerie dream that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to recount in its entirety. I will say, however, that I can smile patiently while waiting in line in the air-conditioned convenience store, knowing that my turn is just as equal as the person in front of or behind me.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Returning Reflections
Back in the states, finally. I've cleaned up and feel better, healthier. The place where I grew up returns to me the comforts that I so longed for while I was away. It's been an happy transition, though not without it's rough spots of doubt, pain, and feeling extremely out of place! It's taken a few months to be able to say this, but I can look back now and feel proud of my projects, content in the friendships I made, and grateful for the constant support of friends and family back home.
Four thousand kids and school staff now have access to running water in their schools, alhumdililah, and will stay hydrated during school hours. Trees have been planted, kids and teenage girls maybe know a little bit more about basic sexual reproductive health that isn't taught in schools. A few high school students know a little more English and maybe some others in the community are a little more confident in doing what they need to do to prevent the spread of AIDS. Hopefully, a couple more teachers now see the importance of teaching health and are using tools to help kids learn and pay attention better. Maybe even a couple of people will actually stave off malaria with Neem Cream this rainy season. What I really hope for is that those personal bonds formed overseas will be long-lasting, something to support the bridge that links the benefits that I gained from the experience to what I hope I left behind.
The experience has taught me so much. I'm immensely grateful for being born into a land of opportunity. I truly appreciate what this country has to offer, from grass on a front lawn to the convience of a grocery store, to the ability to contribute my opinion to the election of a president and the passing of a law, to the freedom to practice whatever religion I choose, without judgment by my neighbor or restrictions of the law. I'm happy that my gender and race are not seen as something to be taken advantage of, that I won't be ignored because of the anatomy of my body or sought out for money because of the color of my skin.
Aside from that, the experience has really taught me how much of the world suffers from the lack of what we take for granted here in America: strong govermental support for infastructure and education. I am choosing to take the steps to continue to help improve the quality of life for those who are unfairly punished for their place of birth. I'm leaving home once again to pursue my Master's in Public Health in International Health and Development, at Tulane University in New Orleans in August. Although I'm happy to be back in America, I'll never leave Africa. It's with me where ever I go, from here on out.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Thanks!!
Hello!!
Thanks to everyone that gave me a hand with the project!! It has been completely funded, thanks to you! The money will come in soon, I think. Unfortunately, because it is summer break now, all of the school directors have left for vacation or their home towns. They will return for the next school year, around mid-end September. At that point, I can begin project implemention. This actually works out better than trying to do it during the summer, for many reasons. First, if the kids are in school watching the construction of the robinets, then they might be more interested in the lesson plans involving water. Second, I'll avoid the rainy season by starting in the fall. Third, the directors are really good about organizing events for their schools and have all the contact info. In addition, I'll be travelling a lot this summer (including a trip home, YAY!!!). So, logistically, it makes sense to wait. Either way, I am still so eager to get this project finished....
I'm in Nouakchott right now, getting some work done. In ten days, the new group of PCVs come in to Mauritania. All of the Regional Coordinators (the position I have acquired recently) get to go to Rosso, the new training site, to help welcome the newbies into country. I'll have to try very hard not to scare them away!! Just kidding... sort of... I'm really looking forward to it, nonetheless. Two weeks after that, my friend Tiffany and I are planning to do a six day Health Camp, split between Kaedi and Boghe (her site, two hours west of mine). Then less than two weeks after that finishes, I come home! When I come back, I have a conference in Nouakchott, then another trip to Rosso to help teach the newbies and.. BAM... the summer is over!!! I'm thinking it will fly by... Inshallah...
Anyway, thanks again to all that helped. Please feel free to let me know if you want more details! Hope all of you are well!
Thanks to everyone that gave me a hand with the project!! It has been completely funded, thanks to you! The money will come in soon, I think. Unfortunately, because it is summer break now, all of the school directors have left for vacation or their home towns. They will return for the next school year, around mid-end September. At that point, I can begin project implemention. This actually works out better than trying to do it during the summer, for many reasons. First, if the kids are in school watching the construction of the robinets, then they might be more interested in the lesson plans involving water. Second, I'll avoid the rainy season by starting in the fall. Third, the directors are really good about organizing events for their schools and have all the contact info. In addition, I'll be travelling a lot this summer (including a trip home, YAY!!!). So, logistically, it makes sense to wait. Either way, I am still so eager to get this project finished....
I'm in Nouakchott right now, getting some work done. In ten days, the new group of PCVs come in to Mauritania. All of the Regional Coordinators (the position I have acquired recently) get to go to Rosso, the new training site, to help welcome the newbies into country. I'll have to try very hard not to scare them away!! Just kidding... sort of... I'm really looking forward to it, nonetheless. Two weeks after that, my friend Tiffany and I are planning to do a six day Health Camp, split between Kaedi and Boghe (her site, two hours west of mine). Then less than two weeks after that finishes, I come home! When I come back, I have a conference in Nouakchott, then another trip to Rosso to help teach the newbies and.. BAM... the summer is over!!! I'm thinking it will fly by... Inshallah...
Anyway, thanks again to all that helped. Please feel free to let me know if you want more details! Hope all of you are well!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Still need help
Hey guys,
I hope this update finds you all well! It's getting to the brutal part of the hot season here. I can't even express, in any nice way, how hot it is...
Currently, I'm still looking for help with the project. I have raised about $850, which is so great! I sincerely thank all of you that have helped so far. (I would thank you individually but I won't know who has donated until after all of the money has been raised.) Even though I have had an oustanding contribution so far, I am still in need of $1757.
So, please, if you know of any other organizations, family members, or friends that would be willing to help, please forward them this message. Right now, it is over 110 degrees daily, in the shade, and sometimes over 130 during the day. These kids could really use some easier access to water and would really appreciate your help. The direct link to my project's website is:
https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=682-097
I really appreciate any help you can give. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me!
Thanks again!
Lindsay Marmer, PCV
Corps de la Paix
BP 66
Kaedi, Mauritania
West Africa
011-222-207-9553
lindsaymarmer.blogspot.com
lindsay.marmer@gmail.com
I hope this update finds you all well! It's getting to the brutal part of the hot season here. I can't even express, in any nice way, how hot it is...
Currently, I'm still looking for help with the project. I have raised about $850, which is so great! I sincerely thank all of you that have helped so far. (I would thank you individually but I won't know who has donated until after all of the money has been raised.) Even though I have had an oustanding contribution so far, I am still in need of $1757.
So, please, if you know of any other organizations, family members, or friends that would be willing to help, please forward them this message. Right now, it is over 110 degrees daily, in the shade, and sometimes over 130 during the day. These kids could really use some easier access to water and would really appreciate your help. The direct link to my project's website is:
https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=682-097
I really appreciate any help you can give. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me!
Thanks again!
Lindsay Marmer, PCV
Corps de la Paix
BP 66
Kaedi, Mauritania
West Africa
011-222-207-9553
lindsaymarmer.blogspot.com
lindsay.marmer@gmail.com
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