My Second First Day in Africa

Before I left to intern with Wellbody Alliance, a health NGO that operates a clinic in rural Sierra Leone, I had to provide my Zambian American family with an answer to the question they reiterated ad nauseam during our end-of-year conversations, “So…why exactly do you want to return to the continent we worked so hard to leave?”

Given that I’d never exhibited any demonstrable interest in my roots during high school years, my family’s uncertainty about my motives makes perfect sense.

The short version of the answer I gave to them is that whereas I had no extra-familial companions who were interested in Africa when I lived in suburban Ohio; at Princeton, I suddenly found myself surrounded by students who were more interested in helping my family members across the pond than I was.  As a member of Princeton’s Africa Development Initiative, I met students whose last ancestor’s left Africa at least 10,000 years ago who spoke about and dealt with Africa as if it were their first home.

Basically, guilt drove me to attempt to rediscover my heritage.

So I made summer plans to intern with Wellbody Alliance after having spent the last 16 years of my life in the first world—depending on where you place a Johannesburg high rise.

My Second First Day in Africa

With my guitar, clothes and fuzzy memories of a continent I never really knew in tow, I embarked on a journey that I hoped would reeducate me about my home…Man did the lessons start quickly.

As I waited in the baggage claim for my luggage in Freetown Lungi International, Sierra Leone’s airport located across a short ferry ride from its capitol city, I surveyed my night-time surroundings.  Buzzing fluorescent lights, brown and yellow streaked walls and an oppressive, humid heat was the décor.

A strange man in some sort of bellboy-like uniform approached me and began asking me questions. Now, mind you, I was running on 22 hours of no sleep so I was in no state to think prudently.

As he asked me question after question, I began eagerly divulging the details of my stay to him, “I am student volunteering with Wellbody in Kono. My name is Teguru Tembo. I’m 5”10’, 150 lbs etc.” (In my near catatonic state, I think I would have given him a printout of my social security card if he’d asked for it).

While I was detailing my life history and preparing a copy of my 1040 to hand over to this friendly stranger, I noticed the rapt attention he had initially displayed began slowly fading. He then promptly picked up my luggage, sent a quick text message and asked me to follow him.

He led me to an area outside the airport where a sea of African faces was waiting—some with name placards and some just yelling for a passenger to ferry in their taxi.  I looked around and saw man with a placard bearing my name, but it was spelled incorrectly. Finally, I began to have misgivings about striking up conversation with a strange man and divulging personal details about my trip.

I had never heard of nor had I ever seen this man who knew my name but did not know how to spell it (suddenly, that text message my bag boy sent began to take on incredible significance), yet he insisted that Wellbody had sent him to pick me up. Admittedly, I had been lax about arranging my pickup, but I was not going to continue with my apathetic approach towards planning my African adventure.

I offered to spend the night in the airport and wait for a fellow Princeton intern who was arriving the next day because as I would tell my co-intern later, “I didn’t have room in my itinerary to add he line-items ‘Get robbed, have my organs harvested and slowly bleed to death in the West African jungle.’” Joking aside though, this man insisted that we go immediately or we would miss the last Ferry to Freetown and have to spend the night in a 90 USD per night (the equivalent of three years of tuition at a private school in Sierra Leone) hotel.

Considering relenting, I demanded that this strange man at least show me his Wellbody ID and he did the worst possible thing for his credibility, he refused and looked visibly annoyed. Apparently, I had called his trustworthiness into question, but seeing as I was having very vivid visions of my throat’s being slit, my body’s being dumped in the West African jungle and my easily-visible iPod’s being sold on Freetown’s black market, I wasn’t very worried about offending people.

At this point, I was convinced that I was going to die a horrible and probably painful death and I may have let out a whimper or two. The man holding the placard got over his being offended when he saw my palpable and visible distress. He came up with what he thought would be a great solution to all our problems, he offered to call the doctor with whom I’d be working so that I’d be reassured.

I agreed that this was a good plan, however, after speaking with the doctor, I remembered that I had never heard him say a word due to Sierra Leoneans lack of infrastructure, money and my lack of foresight. (I may have forgotten to mention that I left for Sierra Leone two days after my last final so I had very little time to prepare for my journey).

I tried testing his knowledge about Wellbody. “If he can name last year’s interns or tell me Jenny’s name and arrival date, I’ll go with him,” I thought. I administered my tests, but even though he knew Raphi’s and Bj’s name, I began thinking that an emaciated-looking, red-headed American would probably have drawn a lot of attention in Sierra Leone. The entire country probably knew his name so this was not a valid test. I next asked him if he knew of any interns coming the next day. He answered he did, but he did not know his name. The intern coming the next day is female so my alarms were set off again. (I would later learn that in Krio, the 3rd person pronoun is not gendered. So as a non-native English-speaker, he said what was natural to him).

When this oh-so-serious game of 20 questions ended, I stood dumb for a few minutes, lookingout into the West African darkness (I’d arrived at night) and getting a very good view of the jungle I so strongly feared. I considered my options: (1) buy a ticket back to the United States and fail in my goal of learning about Africa or (2) trust this strange man who should have paid more attention in spelling class.

For reasons that will never quite be clear to me, half an hour later I found myself in a taxi with him, without his having given me any sort positive identification.

I had a window seat and a deep, dark equatorial jungle was the scenery. Throughout the ride, I kept waiting for the moment the taxi would jerk  to a halt once they these men found the designated spot for dumping my body. In my delirium, I began uttering (what I assume) were nonsensical mutterings to them like, “That’d be a nice place to spend eternity” and “Maybe I’ll survive and can be like Mowgli.”

Thankfully though, the moment never came. An hour after that, I found myself on a ferry, thinking, “I guess getting dumped in the Atlantic is a better option. Some starving shark will be very happy.”

It was during my calisthenic stretches (I hoped to attempt a swim to shore even if I was disemboweled) that Amadu finally showed me a copy of his Wellbody Alliance ID and the sigh of relief that escaped my body would later become known as Hurricane Irene.

After disembarking, Amadu, the I had feared until this point, apologized for not showing me his ID sooner, dropped me off at the Sierra International “hotel” and left for the night.

I tried the faucet, which (of course) didn’t work and saw a bucket filled with cold water. My mind began connecting the dots and I began to understand how I’d be bathing for the next 8 weeks.

After my ablutions, I promptly plopped myself on the bed as I was more tired than I’d ever been. I next switched off my light and began a night of deep, deep sleep…But not before locking and double locking the doors by putting my suitcase in front of it. Though I now trusted Amadu, my thought process was, “If 16-year-old Midwesterners can get fake IDs, I saw no reason that Sierra Leoneans, who’d have a lot more to gain from one, can’t.”

As I drifted off to sleep, I began hearing my family’s end-of-year question over and over again and, looking at the rat scurrying up my curtain and the cockroaches attempting to raid my provisions (hence the earlier quotations around the word “hotel”) I attempted to give my rehearsed answer aloud for reassurance but I just ended up swallowing a lump in my throat and sighing again—though this time, with much less gusto.

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Posted by on September 1, 2011 in Uncategorized


Back in the Glorious First World!

7/23 Yesterday, I went to a party at a loft in San Francisco for one of my roommate’s coworkers. They live on the top floor of this apartment building on Page Street and they have huge windows in their living room so they get an absolutely breathtaking view of the muni area of San Francisco. When Mitch, my COS-major roommate, and I arrived, we saw a group of people standing in a circle—most of whom were girls. We walked in and they introduced themselves around in a circle.

Later, we went to a hookah bar and I had a Shirley Temple (non-alcoholic, but very sugary). The street was replete with hipsters of all kinds. I was a bit concerned I wouldn’t be able to hang out with my new friends because they were all going to over-21 establishments and I still have 10 months until I join their ranks. Anyway, for this post—and for many others following—I’m going to do something unorthodox due to the cataclysmic changes my brain (and stomach and everything) has been experiencing since returning to the US. Today’s strange post will be a listing of  events or occurrences that have become common in San Francisco that I “never once” saw/experienced in Sierra Leone. To begin:

In Sierra Leone, I never once:

1) Saw any type of money left unattended whether through lying on the ground or in a couch cushion

2) Heard or saw a plane flying overheard

3) Talked with anyone about how much I love The Shins

4) Watched a youtube video

5) Tucked in my shirt

6) Smoked hookah

7) Rode a train

8) Had 24-hour electricity

9) Gave a homeless woman a Klondike bar

10) Went Grocery Shopping

11) Was in a predominantly white surrounding

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Posted by on July 29, 2011 in Uncategorized


Last Sierra Leone Post – Will be Edited Goals must be in here

My days in Sierra Leone have come to an end. I say this almost tearfully considering how much I hated the country by the end of my internship. Like my “Interning Successfully Abroad” book said, culture shock hit and it hit hard. As I write my final reflection about interning in rural West Africa, I’d like to first explain that my computer died just as my carnival prpe was beginning in earnest so I didn’t post for a long time. All of us are worse off for this because my days got fucking weird after that day. I have incredibly interesting things to tell you all—one of which is a day-trip Raphi, a fellow GAF intern, and I took. We went 40 miles deep into the West African jungle to save a little girl with a gangrenous eschar on her leg from a withc doctor who had kidnapped her. I will delineate them later in this same post since I titled it, “last.”

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Posted by on July 29, 2011 in Uncategorized


Obstreperous ?

7/1 I’m two weeks from the carnival and, as my friends like to say, “Shit has most certainly gotten real.” I think I experienced culture shock for the first time in several weeks. I went out with Mr. Conteh, the teacher coordinator of PEPTOK, to randomly distribute my tickets to “the data set”—aka, the students who I invited to the carnival. It was pretty fun going around selecting the students, but going around was so stressful.

I suppose I should start from yesterday. On the last day of June, I came into the clinic all gung-ho, dressed in my Sunday’s best, because I planned to distribute my invitations that day. I knew if I enlisted the help of clinic staff, it would take 100% longer than it needed to. I came in with my very efficient Princeton attitude. When I look at my to-do list for the day, I try to optimize in every way. Even the places I need to go are controlled so I never need to double back. Sierra Leoneans don’t do that. Even though I made it clear that this is a research project and that I needed the best data or it’d be pointless, my colleagues could not grasp that. They kept suggesting line-item changes to the schools I had chosen. In addition to that annoyance, they were laughing and joking as they bought food during our search for students. They are the ones who made me alarmed in the first place! All week they’d been scaring me about the possibility of not finding students, advising me to give up my plan and yet when I finally came up with a solution to this urgent plan, everyone but me showed up late! They’re the ones who were worried in the first place. Next, when we drove around to different schools in Koidu, they would intermittently stop to talk to friends for several minutes—all while shaking their heads for my lack of foresight in planning because students were leaving school and we might not find them. Today was the last day of school so after 12:30, students would be off to their (even more) rural villages far away and finding them would be damn near impossible.

After my very vexing day though (we did find enough students), the clinic staff had one of their yelling sessions. Every day, after all the patients have been seen, the clinic staff congregate at the reception desk and start arguing about some topic or other. It’s very strange. When I first arrived, I thought they were at each other’s throats, but it turns out, that’s just how people do things in Sierra Leone. It’s very annoying. I definitely see a parallel between loud, urban black people on the buses I’d ride to St. Ignatius and Sierra Leoneans. In fact, every time I ride the government bus from Kono/Freetown to Freetown/Kono, there is a groups of Slers who just sit and yell, while gesticulating wildly about whatever topic they choose. I think it’s rude. I have to turn my iPod all the way up just to drown out their meaningless yelling.

Anyway, I’m going to end this less racistly I hope.


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Posted by on July 29, 2011 in Uncategorized


Backlog II – Shit Gets Real

6/28 8:19 PM.

Posting from Uncle Ben’s restaurant again. I’m listening to Mozart’s Queen of the Night for those of you who are curious—I highly recommend it if you want to hear a woman do some crazy shit ( my mother-figure cousin yelled at me not to swear so much in my blog) fecal matter with her vocal chords. I’m writing up the lecture sheets from which the PEPTOKers are going to lecture. It’s less than thrilling work. I’ve spent all of today reading about STIs and the deleterious effects they have on the male and female reproductive systems. After perusing the literature for symptoms, I might start wearing a condom 24/7—talk about scare tactics.

I’m also hopped up on Doxycycline and Ampicillin. This means my consulting physician thinks I have a gram negative bacteria—one with exposed peptidoglycan. I’m also watching the German president talk to Bao. It’s amazing. When I’m in the US, I’m (understandably) bombarded with what the US is doing and where the US stands and where we need to go, but after having watched, first, Al Jazeera, and next, CCTV (Chinese), I’ve come to realize that the outside world does exist. They’ve got their own petty squabbles and fears and plans for world domination.

As I write this boring stuff, I remember that I deceptively titled my boring proposal post “Running from the West African Police etc.” I will honor my post script promise.

On Saturday, I think, I went with Tamba Mondeh to see some famous West African comedian. We went to Opera Cinema, which they pronounce Oh (as in Homer Simpson’s catch phrase)- pe (as in pen) and rah (as in the Egyptian sun-god). At first, we couldn’t get tickets to enter. The teller even tried to take our money and not issue us tickets. After we stared him down and disparaged his heritage though, he paid up. However, we then had trouble getting past the first Opera guard, one who was exercising his second amendment right to carry a loaded AK-47 assault rifle. I was visibly disconcerted by the fact that this unfriendly-looking man was packing enough power to kill a significant number of the square’s population, yet all Tamba could do was laugh. I’ve seen enough films about African genocide and corruption that I don’t want to be there when things go south and the guy decides he should clear out the square. After having water thrown at me during the opening set, I elected to leave the performance. I couldn’t understand the performers’ Krio through his shitty mike anyway.

Next, Tamba and I went to Opera Street. It’s the cultural and activity center of Koidu. Here is where all the night clubs and expat hotels are—except ours, Uncle Ben’s. As we were just hanging around, talking to whoever happened to pass by, I heard the approach of sirens. Even in Ohio, I’m apprehensive when I hear that sound, but these West Africans bolted in every single direction. It was as if some giant, sadistic foot had stepped on their colony and every little ant scattered. I didn’t really understand what was going on, but I ran too. I figured this was not time to do anthropological studies about attitudes towards police or to find out why they were running. The most prudent course of action was to run too—especially since I look like a Sierra Leonean and the police here have a nasty reputation for cudgel first and ask questions never.

I escaped behind as shop until I no longer heard the sirens, then I left my hidey-hole and found Tamba. He kept telling me not to tell Jenny about the horrible and frightening experience I had just had because he wants her to come out with us. I personally do not want her out here though. The added responsibility of making sure she doesn’t get kidnapped and killed while taking care of myself makes a stressful night in West Africa that much more stressful.

Well  naim dat.

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Posted by on July 29, 2011 in Uncategorized


Running from the West African Police Who (Of Course) Had AK-47s

Exciting news, my carnival has reached stage two of approval. Now I need to solicit funds from the United States. I had originally planned a small affair, but Dr. Barrie got excited when I mentioned that there would be a research component to this carnival. He seems to be the most on-board—even more so than I am and it was my idea.

Originally, I was just going to have a carnival but, after looking at the implementation strategy of the Antenatal Care program that Wellbody is starting, I was struck with inspiration. When I opened their ANC archive, I saw a map that divided Kono into “controls” and “experimental” group. Normally, treating people as experiment subjects leaves a metallic taste in my mouth—especially when the test is efficacy of potentially life-saving medical care—but seeing that it was common and for a good cause led me to think that I could also make my carnival a research project.

As you may or may not know, last year’s interns started a peer education program focused on teaching Kono’s teens about puberty (there is no bush devil that makes you have wet dreams), contraceptives (use condoms dammit!), STIs and other issues salient to the sexually inclined teenage mind. Since my carnival was targeting the same groups PEPTOK works with, I had the lightbulb moment during which I realized I could gather some data.

The basic organization of the carnival is here in the proposal I sent to my stateside boss, Dr. Dan Kelly.

What Exactly is it you’re planning Tj?


A dual carnival/ research project to celebrate PEPTOK’s inaugural year, the end of the Sierra Leonean school year and my last 72 hours in Sierra Leone.


How are you going to make a carnival double as a research project?

1) Invite Only

We plan to invite only students we want in the data sample. There will be 100 in total, 50 from schools that have hosted a PEPTOK program, aka “PEPTOK Schools,” and 50 from schools that have not hosted a PEPTOK event or, “Non-PEPTOK schools.” [1] I will track them with Tamba beginning next week.  I want 8 schools in total—4 PEPTOK, 4 NONPEPTOK.

There will be further subdivisions of the data sample. Of the PEPTOK school cohort, 20 will have actually attended a PEPTOK event (Group PEPTOK A) and 20 will never have attended a PEPTOK event. Dividing the experimental group in this way will allow us to track what I call, “ secondary peer transmission rate”—the rate at which students who attend PEPTOK events are discussing the information they gain from these events with their fellow students who attend the same schools, but have not attended a PEPTOK event (Group PEPTOK B).

Of the Non-PEPTOK school cohort, 20 will know nothing about PEPTOK (NPEP Group C) and (ideally) the other 20 will have friends who have attended a PEPTOK event at a different school (NPEP Group D). I hope to use data from Group B, students who haven’t attended an event but go to PEPTOK schools, and Group D, students who don’t attend PEPTOK schools, but have friends or acquaintances in PEPTOK, as a control. I expect their performance results to be dissimilar, but not to a statistically significant degree thereby demonstrating a similar secondary peer transmission rate. Lastly, I will choose 20 secondary school students at random from around Koidu. They will be called RAN Group E.


2) Booths

At our venue (more about this later), we’ll have 5 booths set up—each one manned by a different PEPTOK member. Each PEPTOK member will be assigned to lecture the carnival attendees on one of these five topics from the PEPTOK manual: 1. Puberty 2. Sexual Intercourse 3. Contraceptives 4. Pregnancy and 5. STI’s. I will prepare the lectures, but help from some PEPTOK members would be greatly appreciated.


3) Paper Quizzes

The PEPTOK member will give a short lecture on her or his topic and then administer a short, five question quiz. The questions for this quiz will be drawn directly from her or his lecture material.  Students will be required to their ID  numbers—allowing us to track both PEPTOK versus NONPETOK and Attended Event versus Never Attended etc. Our lecturer will then collect the quizzes and distribute tickets according to people’s scores. I will write up 3 different quizzes for each booth—summing 15 quizzes in total.

4) Tickets That Act As Currency

Based on how these students perform on the quizzes, they’ll be given a certain number tickets. As of now, I’m leaning toward giving the highest scorers 5 tickets and everyone else 1 ticket. With this distribution strategy, both participation and trying to do well on quizzes are incentivized. These tickets will be redeemable for prizes we’ll provide like candy, other foods, water, soda etc. These students will also need to use their won tickets to join activities we’ll have at the venue like soccer games, tie-dye stations (or the West-African equivalent), face-painting etc.

Participants will be allowed to take the quizzes indefinitely—thereby giving us a lot of data points. However, they will be required to indicate how many times they’ve visited that particular booth somewhere on the quiz to control for increased accuracy that I assume will result with each repeated administration of the quizzes.[2]


5) Fixins

I was hoping to obtain a DJ to really create a carnival feel, this will be expensive though.

I also wanted to have a performance by Restless Development, a Sierra Leonean, teenager-run community-based organization (CBO), that attempts to end the stygmatization of HIV patients through community outreach. At a Koidu school, Jenny, Daboh and I saw them perform a dramatic skit and I thought it was wonderful.[3]

Lastly, I wanted to have a final, Jeopardy-style quiz show for the people who accumulate the most tickets by the end of the day. They will compete for big prizes like cell phones, unit cards, soccer jerseys and whatever else a Sierra Leonan teen might want. I would like Amadu to emcee this since he seems like a fun-loving host guy.


Have You Considerd the Major Stumbling Blocks to Taking on Such a Project?

1) Money

I am willing to fund the project to 100-200 dollars – about 400,000-800,000 leones depending on how much money we raise from the proposal.

A) Venue

1. I have spoken with Tamba Mondeh, a local, and he says he can get me a venue like the Fachima Complex for 50, 000 Leones for the day.

B) Prizes

1. I need the help of a Sierra Leonean to know what prizes Sierra

Leoneans would want.

C) Food

1. For 1 million 7 hundred thousand leones, I will hire a caterer to

cook food for 200 people.

2) Rigor (IRB?)

A) Jenny mentioned that she is getting her survey accredited by the IRB. My little quiz is really just an informal internal measure for Fatu, Katie and Wellbody to use so I don’t think IRB approval is necessary. If I feel the study goes spectacularly, I might use the data at Princeton though in my JP.

B) PEPTOK schools are better as the footnote mentioned.

C) Restless Development and other Sexual Health NGOS.

3) PEPTOK Participation

I was going to offer them free food and drinks. This will necessitate getting them ID cards or having them wear their PEPTOK shirts.

3) Implementation

a) Shifts for PEPTOK workers so they can enjoy the carnival too?

This might corrupt the data sample, but I will have a note card, translated into Krio by one and only one PEPTOK member, for them to read from verbatim. This will control for any varialbes in presentation.

b) I was thinking that when we’re selecting our data sample students, we should give them a teaser quiz from one of the quizzes they’ll see on carnival day so we can compare accuracy rates before and after the carnival. This will allow us to determine how much they know before they hear the PEPTOK lecturers. It will however, corrupt that quiz because they’ll have seen it before. Your Input?


4) Time

a) Do y’all think 5 hours is enough?


Why TJ?

1) This will increase Wellbody Alliance’s visibility and name recognition in Kono.

2) It will help WA evaluate the efficacy of one of its most recent projects

a) The data gathered could then be used either to use for soliciting funds from US donors or

b) We could find any inefficiency and modify PEPTOK until the inefficiency is removed—effectively nipping it in the bud.

3) It would be a great way to celebrate a great inaugural year for PEPTOK.




Later I will write more about the political discussions I’ve had with the clinic staff and the madman stuff that happened last night at Opera with Tamba Mondeh, a local—aka the stuff in the title.

[1] I learned from Dr. Barrie that PEPTOK Schools tend to be higher quality schools than Non-PEPTOK. This might present a problem in data analysis as that is a pretty large variable. Your input?

[2] I had flirted with the idea of keeping students in the same groups for the entire carnival, but I think that will make it less fun—it might help control for cheating and it wouldn’t require the students to indicate the number of times they’ve taken the quiz as I would just have the PEPTOK members cycle the 3 quizzes I’ll write up until the carnival ends.

[3] Though their welcome now, past activities by these guys (and other groups focused on sexual health awareness) might corrupt our data sample because some schools may have had a de facto PEPTOK event. Should I attempt to control for this too? Your Input?


Posted by on June 28, 2011 in Uncategorized


Half-Way Point, Real First Post

I’ve decided to do something unorthodox for this post. I’m evaluating whether or not I’m close to achieving the goals I set at the beginning of this internship. As I was looking for that first post where I delineated my goals though, I couldn’t find it. It turns out I skipped two days of my blog before posting. Following is my real first post. It’s a pretty interesting read I think.

5/24/11 Sierra Leone Blog

I’m currently sitting at terminal B28 in JFK Airport listening to Animal Collective’s “Kids on Holiday” from their “Sung Tongs” album. As I prepare to embark on the airborne part of my journey to Sierra Leone, I can’t help but admit that I feel more apprehensive and tired than excited. I still have no idea where I’m staying. There have been some intermittent mentions of some “Uncle Ben’s,” but if that doesn’t work out, I might have to live in a hollowed out Jaguar’s den when I arrive. I also don’t know if I will be staying at the airport and waiting for my fellow intern, Jenny, or if I will be picked up immediately upon landing in Freetown. Anyway, I figure it will all workout, or my plane will crash somewhere over the Atlantic and Teguru Tembo will go out like a bitch, screaming for his life as the pilots lose control and this Virgin Atlantic plane begins a stomach-turning, 15,000-foot freefall. As I type this I begin to think that typing about my plane’s crashing may not be the most prudent activity while sitting at an airport gate. If I remember correctly, the Patriot Act was extended (Hi, FBI!).

Anyway, I have nothing particularly profound or important to say yet as I’m still in New York. The only cool thing that has happened so far is that I’ve heard some people speaking in Bri (glottal stop) ish accents.  (I’m connecting through Heathrow).

I guess it’d be good to set some goals for this internship just so I don’t go in blindly—although not knowing my living arrangements is pretty blind I’d say.

1) Determine if the medicine is still a profession I’m interested in.

2) Get a first-hand view of the state of 3rd world, nonprofit healthcare.

3) Maintain this journal.

4) Cold-turkey my coffee addiction.

5) Come back without having gotten malaria and without any internal parasites.


//End first post


As I evaluate my goals, I have to say that I’ve done pretty well on goals 1 and 2 and I’ve far exceeded what I expected of myself for goal 3— I have to thank you my 3 readers. Goal 4 however, is a no go and I could have done better on goal 5. I suppose I should evaluate how I could improve, but I have a Sex Carnival/ Research Project to coordinate.


Another Time!

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Posted by on June 24, 2011 in Uncategorized