Tick, Tock

The days and hours and minutes are counting down until I arrive in Mali. The last week has been fantastic and stressful and nerve-wracking and exciting. Plus about ten other emotions. I can't imagine how people do this completely by themselves. My parents have been with me since last weekend and are such an incredible support network. It's amazing how lucky I am to have them! From helping solve minor freak-outs (where are my passports?!) to giving moral support during a very stressful pack out of my household goods, from coming with me to bid farewell to mentors and friends to finishing up last-minute chores... they're here for me.

We talk about the mundane, we sing, we cook, we squabble. Life is good. It will be heart-wrenching to leave them at the airport and fly away, even though it's the beginning of a new chapter that we're all excited about.

Mom, dad - thanks for all you have done and are doing. You're incredibly special people.

--Z

Whirlwind

Just a brief note to say that last week, everything did an about-face, and I'm now counting down the days to when I leave for Mali! My to-do list gets a few things crossed off every day, but somehow never gets shorter as more items get added. It's lots of fun, but also a real whirlwind: exciting, overwhelming, thought-provoking, sad, anxiety-producing, and yes, kind of awesome!

More soon, but I felt an update was in order!

--Z

Control

The wait continues. It seemed certain that I would know by now whether or not March would see me traveling to Mali. Bureaucracy has its ways, though, and most of them are slow.

In the meantime, I have taken up guitar lessons via Skype with a fun teacher who keeps me amused and doesn't pressure me too much in terms of practicing and improving. I also joined a French-speaking Meet-up group and have managed to enjoy two weekly meetings over the last month. A few weekends ago, I went to Miami to celebrate my grandmother's 97th birthday with my parents and brother, which was great! Well, the flights were delayed and I have an ongoing fraud fight going on with the car rental place that didn't give me a car and then charged me for it... but the visit itself was really nice.

I stayed at my grandmother's apartment during the visit while the rest of my family stayed with other family in Miami, so I got extra time to chat with my grandmother. I told her about my situation and my feelings. She nodded when I mentioned the guitar lessons and French meet-ups, saying, "Well, of course. That way you can be in control of something."

My grandmother is so wise. It surprised me to hear her perspective on what I saw purely as ways to distract myself from the frustration of waiting. But... she's right. Though I've never considered myself as one who has to maintain control, in this case she's absolutely right. With no control over whether or when I might go to Mali, life has felt recklessly out of control lately.

My dad recommended that I try focusing on being "posted" to DC, and then if I'm told to head to Mali, that will be the next adventure. Good advice, but hard to overcome that year of expectation and training and preparation. I'm working on re-focusing.

And so I wait, and do my darnedest to maintain a modicum of control over myself, the here and now. Spending time with friends, settling into some hobbies, and definitely trying not to think too hard about what news tomorrow might bring about Mali. 

A Roller Coaster of Maybe's

At the end of December, I was going to be reassigned to a new country and trained for a different position.

At the beginning of January, I was going to wait a month before getting reassigned and retrained.

In the middle of January, I was going to be assigned to a short-term (six month) tour in DC.

Now, at the end of January, it seems like perhaps I'll be going to Mali sometime in February, to do the job I've already been trained for.

But... maybe not.

This is the foreign service life: a roller-coaster of not knowing what's next, or ever what the next couple weeks might look like. And I have to say, it's hard. Oh sure, I'm still working, and getting paid; my health is decent, and I get to see family more. But getting all wound up to move, planning how the next few weeks might look, and then having to put it all on hold again... every month... is exhausting.

Now granted, I'm in a relatively unusual situation; this shouldn't be my life from now on, throughout whatever career I may have in the Foreign Service. But at the moment, it seems all-encompassing. I'm working on trying to deal with in a mature, calm, and logical fashion. Sometimes I giggle about it. Other times I rage.

Out of a class of seventy-six Foreign Service Officers, I will be number seventy-six to actually go to post and start my first assignment. On the other hand, I'll be one of the first to get DC experience. Pros and cons.

Luckily, I have some great mentors and friends to help me through all of this, not to mention superb parents who are supportive and excited and invested in experiencing it right along with me.

So despite the frustration of not knowing, and aside from often feeling like I've just stepped off a roller coaster that was a bit too much for me... I'm a pretty lucky lady.

--Z

New Year’s News

 It’s 2016 and my story has changed in a variety of ways. My departure to Mali has been indefinitely delayed, and having finished all my training I am now work at the State Department’s Africa Bureau in DC. Thus far it has been a great experience. I’m learning about how the DC offices manage things and about the culture of the Foreign Service. The plan for the future changes regularly: maybe I’ll take consular training, or perhaps I’ll get reassigned to somewhere else, or it’s possible I’ll stay in DC until I can go to Mali. Literally, the plan has changed several times already, so I’ve settled into a mood of (mostly) calm and acceptance. What will come, will come. In the meantime, I’m earning a paycheck and spending time with family.

Of far more import, the world has become an emptier place. My grandfather, my dad’s dad, passed away on Friday, January 8, 2016. It was not unexpected. The past two years saw his rapid decline due to dementia; during the last year he was cared for by my uncle, who is a supremely loving, patient, and dedicated man. The whole experience, which I’ve seen from afar except for an annual visit, has been emotional for everyone. To see a loved one go through this type of illness is desperately sad and difficult; and to know that life goes on seems perfectly natural and yet perfectly unfair.

Driven always, it seems to me, by his passions, my grandfather was a veteran and a community organizer, a tree farmer and a father, a writer and a thinker, a lover of words and of nature, and a builder of community. His history is full of the amazing - escape from the nazis as a child; re-settling in the U.S.; building a home in Minnesota; fighting for labor rights; educating and helping and always a focus on the people around him - as well as the not-so-amazing - divorces; alcoholism; a great love for a furry feline. 

My favorite memories of my grandfather, Bob Treuer, are snapshots in my mind:

His belly laugh when someone said something that caught his fancy, followed by true tears of mirth that he would swipe away carefully with his thumb;

His “harrumph” and suspicious, disgruntled, yet ultimately just the tiniest bit proud glare when I put a seven-letter word on a triple word score on the Scrabble board;

His little-boy “nobody can see me” expression when sticking a finger into whatever food he snuck out of the fridge or found on the table;

His letters, which were always typewriter-written and signed by both him and his cat, Einstein;

His land: his tree farm, his home between two small lakes. I’ve taken countless pictures of it, but all I really need to do is think of it and I get the strong sense of the peacefulness and calm that I found whenever I was there;

And finally, I think of family. His children – my dad and uncles and aunt – and his grandchildren, great-grandchildren and beyond; cousins and friends and people he’s touched.

But what I’ll remember most is simply that he was my grandfather, and that I loved him, and that he loved me. His smile, his laugh, and the faraway look he’d get now and again.  I miss him already.

Nervous Waiting

First, it was nerves in terms of starting my "tradecraft" training - meaning, basically, "How to be a General Services Officer" class. So far, my class of 30+ general services officers, facility managers, and local staff, all of whom are going to or are already posted in different embassies around the world, have spent four weeks on contracting, a week talking about how our sections work in an embassy environment, and we're just now finishing two weeks of logistics management.  Next week we start learning about lease management! It's a firehose-type class, and a bit of death-by-powerpoint, but incredibly interesting for all of that.

For example, today we learned all about the various programs which are dedicated to outfitting ambassador's residences at an embassy. It took several hours, to give you an idea of how extensive they are!

Next, it was nerves about getting ready for the big move to Mali. Making lists of things to buy, things to get rid of, chores to get done... that's been going on for months. Now it's time to shop, shop, shop! With the help of my parents, I've gotten closer to knocking the shopping out. The main shopping left is for consumables - food, toilet paper, etc. - to take with me. My biggest hurdle here has been to resist feeling like I must build a mini-Target in my apartment in Mali. Many of the items I will need will be available there, though sometimes sporadically or very expensive. I have to remember that it's possible to survive without bringing tons of stuff with me...

Then, of course, the nerves centered around the dreaded Thanksgiving drive down to my folks' house in North Carolina. Thankfully, while there was certainly more traffic and my drive was about an hour and a half longer than usual, it wasn't too bad. And, I have to say, it was really a terrific Thanksgiving. I spent lots of time talking about my upcoming move and life in Mali with my parents and my brother and sister-in-law, and we enjoyed a lovely bout of practically-warm and dry weather. We were even graced with two American eagles flying over the little lake in the neighborhood!

And now, the nerves are centered around the recent events in Bamako. On November 20th, there was an armed attack of a major hotel frequented by Westerners in Bamako, with many civilians killed. It was scary and hard to read about it first thing in the morning, and follow the news all day, and then talk about it with friends, family, and colleagues who all reached out to see how I was doing.

Today, the US Embassy in Bamako went on what's called "authorized departure" status, which means that embassy employee family members can be evacuated, and some non-emergency embassy staff as well. This is not a full evacuation of the embassy, but it's still serious. I'm not sure yet what, if any, impact there will be on my departure date.

All in all, I've been doing a lot of serious thinking lately, and am trying to be well-informed but not feel overwhelmed by it all. Meanwhile, most of my colleagues from my A-100 introductory class back in January are either already at their posts or heading out in the next few weeks. I recognize fewer people in the halls of FSI these days, which is a little sad and a little exciting.

Soon, perhaps, it will be my turn to head out into the world.

--Z

Good Things Come in Threes

Jumping right into the news:

Literally, I Got Threes!

First and foremost, what's on all your minds, surely... I passed my French test! Yahoo! In all seriousness, I wasn't confident after walking out of the test that I had attained the desired score. Part of this is because the testing is designed to check the furthest limits of your abilities, which means by definition that you will not understand something at some point. Nothing like having to admit that in a test to make you feel sub-par...

Here's a brief primer on the Interagency Language Roundtable (ILR) scale, if you're interested:

Language scoring for the Foreign Service is on a scale of one to five, with five being highly educated, PhD level language skills. There are two numbers in a score, the first being your speaking/listening comprehension score, the second being your reading comprehension score. For French, as with many romance languages, the target score for getting off language probation (which I'll explain in a moment) is a 3/3. In other languages, the target score is different; Chinese, for example, is a 2/1.

A 3/3 means, generally, being able to converse with some facility and without a native speaker having to do most of the work to figure out what you're saying. Check out this video for an example of a 3/3 in English. Here is an example of a 2/2, and here an example of a 1/1. These are short videos that give a basic idea of the scale. And hey, here's a 5/5, just to give you an idea.

Not all native English speakers are 5/5, as you may have reasoned.

SO. I'm a 3/3, with "General Professional Proficiency." An Entry Level Officer (ELO in Foreign Service parlance) is one who has not yet gotten tenure. One of the benchmarks for obtaining tenure is to get off of language probation, meaning that you have to reach the target score in a formal test. Generally, ELOs have around five years before they obtain tenure, and a rather high percentage (in the upper 90th percentile, I believe) get tenure at that point.

In any case, I'm on my way to getting tenure! Just four more years and some work experience at post, and I should be good to go!

Family Fun: Three Great Visits

In September, I got to visit with my cousin Kendre and her daughter when they were in DC to visit Kendre's son Andrew. Since they live on the west coast and I'm on the east coast, we don't get to visit too often, so it was a real treat. We brunched in style and got caught up on family news. I discovered that Clara is exploring some artistic talents with joy, and Kendre is working hard to achieve a long-time career dream. I caught them up on my new life in the foreign service. All in all, though as always too short, it was a great visit!


Next, I visited my Miami family. This was a particularly good visit for me, because my
grandmother recently suffered a recent bout of illness. At over 95 years of age, she sure didn't need that kind of challenge. As usual, though, her sheer willpower, stubbornness, and the care of family got her through. It was lovely to hear her thoughts on current events as well as family history. We spent our visit playing Scrabble and bingo, taking meals, enjoying an ice cream social, and just hanging out in her apartment. Also, I stayed with my aunt and cousin, and so I got to catch up with them. Incredibly busy, they were brimming with energy and positivity. I felt really good about the re-connections to this branch of family.

Finally, I spent four days visiting my parents in North Carolina. This was a relaxing and restful trip: we did some shopping, and I got the tour of their estate (veggie garden, fruit trees, and lovely front

and back yards with a variety of plants). We talked lots about Mali and my upcoming adventure, as well as the various hobbies and interests in which they've been taking part. I also picked their brains and asked lots of advice, and we made a pre-emptory Costco visit (complete with a few samples, of course). As a bonus, we were visited by a cousin who is going through the paces of becoming a full-fledged medical doctor, and who I haven't seen in years. We got to hear all about her exhausting life as well as her dedication and serious thoughts about change and challenges in the medical field. So this was a double-whammy visit!

Three Key Points of Info Before Take-Off

I've gotten:

- my packout date (when movers will come to either fly, ship, or store all my of stuff).

- my airline ticket itinerary (hint: I get to stop over in Paris before heading to Bamako).

- all my immunizations (rabies, check; flu, check; meningitis, check).

I am ready to go!

Well, all right, there's still the matter of job training and buying a few (hah!) things for life in Mali, including an appropriate vehicle, and yes, there are myriad chores and details to handle before heading out... but I'm well on my way.


--Z

The Language of Learning

Thirty weeks of French training took me on an unusual path of self-discovery. Well, perhaps not so deep as all that, but it did make me recognize a few things about myself, good and bad.

Let me start with a whoop of absolute joy-relief-excitement-pride: I have passed my French language test with the score required, a 3/3 (on a scale of 1-5 where most native English speakers are between 4 and 5). The test was comprised of a conversation about my personal and professional life, a five-minute presentation on a random subject, and an interview where I asked the tester about life in his native country. There was also a reading portion of the test, where I read several short articles in six minutes and summarized them, then two longer articles with more substance.

This score means that in both speaking and reading skills, I can use and understand French at a more than basic and less than terribly proficient manner. Subjects like global warming, leadership, the migrant crisis, past and present and future ideas or events, and political opinions, are accessible to me in French. I can speak to a native without them being too confused as to what I'm trying to say, although they may have to overlook or interpret some grammar and vocabulary errors.

From knowing only such Anglicized words as rendezvous and deja vu, I can now read the news and discuss it in French with a native speaker. I may not read all the subtext in a written work, nor speak perfectly fluent and correct French, but in the end, I can communicate.

That's pretty darned cool!

My language teachers were from Senegal and Morocco, Benin and France, Cote d'Ivoire and both of the Congo's. I had tutors and counselors. And for the first time, I spent most waking moments of a considerable amount of time (seven months!) studying a single subject: the French language. It was incredibly hard, fulfilling, and enlightening.

I discovered that I can indeed succeed even when it feels like each day, I'm failing. I learned to listen to the advice of teachers and counselors which went against everything I thought I knew about myself. For example, at one point I was told to stop studying, that it was inhibiting my progress. It took me quite awhile to accept and follow this advice, but once I did, I was able to improve!

I also found out that I have, sometimes, a severe and critical self doubt, and a really ugly inner voice that, when allowed to speak, makes me shrink in self-disgust and contempt. It's hard to battle this voice and to tell myself it's wrong. I see it in my eyes sometimes.

These are all traits I would like to explore and try to understand, improve, change. I do not want to be controlled by that nasty jerk inside me, not ever, not even on bad days. Instead, I prefer the other inner whisper, that the difficult is surmountable and that I have it within me to succeed, through my own hard work and through the acceptance of help from others.

My parents have shared all my ups and downs throughout this crazy adventure of language learning, as they always do, and their persistent and positive support  has been crucial to my success.

The next step: three months of security, leadership, and job-specific training. And then, at the very end of the year, a move across the ocean and into a new (to me) world: Africa!

5776: What I Know and What I Think I Know

Today at sunset, Jews around the world are celebrating, will celebrate, or have already celebrated Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year. They have said, "L'shana tova," or happy new year, or given wishes for a sweet year. Tonight my parents are going to temple in Miami, where they are spending time with my grandmother. It is her 96th new year and my fervent and hopeful wish is that she has a healthy, strengthening, happy and love-filled new year.

Every so often I am asked, as the resident Jew, why the Jewish year is different than the calendar year we use today. Not a historical or religious expert, I generally explain only that the Jewish calendar is a lunar one, and was the one used until the current, Roman calendar was put in place. This seems to go over well with non-Jews, generally. When I mention that the Jewish year is five thousand something (5776 now), there's usually a blink in response, and a polite or thoughtful nod.

While sometimes this is a somewhat frustrating experience to go through - these conversations can go anywhere from thoughtful learning to threatened justification to attempted conversion - I recognize that in being a (relative) minority in the USA, I get to learn what it is like to be part of something seemingly obvious (most people know that Judaism is a religion) and yet not well understood ("uh, you can't eat pork, right?"). 

Why is this important? For me, it underscores two very different realities in my life that have manifested in the past year. Tonight's blog is an exercise in reflection on how being Jewish polishes the lens through which I might see the world. 

The experience of being "other" reminds me that the things that seem obvious might not be at all well understood. The example of the #BlackLivesMatter movement comes to mind. I know about it and understand the general message. But do I truly understand, can I really "get" what it is to be a Black Life in the year 5776 in this world, on this continent, in my own city? In fact, yes, I believe I can conceptualize it; but in reality, no, I can never know what it is like. I am, after all, white. What does this mean? Well, in reflecting on my experiences of what it is to be a Jew in a sea of non-Jews, and how tentative and sensitive and sometimes impossible it was to talk to non-Jews about it, be they friendly and curious or evangelical and judgmental... to me this means I must strive to understand and support Black Lives. It means that I must work towards understanding my own privilege, not to feel guilty (which isn't the point of exploring privilege anyway) but to perceive an existence different from my own and recognize the differences in how the world treats each of us. 

Having people tell me what the "reality" is of my religion - that I can't eat pork, or marry a non-Jew, or eat meat and cheese together - makes me think of (non-Black) media pundits commentating on the lives of Black citizens and their feelings and actions. How about we ask, and listen, and understand, rather than lump a mass of "other" into a single compartment of well-meaning but ill-treating, presumptive "understanding"? 

That's the first lesson I draw from my past experiences. Now to the future. 

Because the other reason this Rosh Hashanah is important to me, though I sit at home, alone, without having lit candles or sung a prayer, the other reason is that so very soon, I will be the minority again, but in a whole different way. No longer the choice of whether to speak up and self-identify as Jewish and therefore different, no! Quite the opposite: soon, the color of my skin will make me part of the minority. And how, exactly, do I want people to learn about me, to get to know me? I'll tell you: my preference doesn't lie with assumptions, lump-assertions, half-read histories or media-designated-truths!

Rather, I would like someone to ask me what it means to me to be a Jew, an American, a woman, a diplomat, a single thirty-something. Know me as an individual, and then thoughtfully make connections and distinctions from the other [pick a category] that one knows. And if that is how I would like to be treated, then I have a huge job ahead of me, because it is how I should treat every new person I meet. In the coming year, that will be a rather large number of people. 

How easy it is to assume! I have read about Mali's poverty, the Tuareg struggles, the more recent inclusion of extremist elements, the majority Islamic population, the dessert, the music, the history. Wouldn't it be easier, and perhaps justified, to go there "knowing" what it is to live in Mali?

I say, uh-uh, no way, it makes it so much harder, in fact: harder to get to know the people I'll live amongst and work with, and harder to experience a culture new to me, rich with so much that can change me, improve me, in many incredible ways. 

So looking back and peering forward, I hope to renew my curiosity in individuals, strengthen my resolve to listen and understand, and treat each person as part of a whole, yes, but also as wholly unique. 

L'shana tova to all. May your year be sweet and bright. 

--Z

Brain-Tired

A monthly update is in order!

1. French
2. LOTS of French
3. A bit more French
4. Some fun

Ha! Really, that's how it feels lately. Ok, so here it goes...

1. French. I took my interim test and did all right. It was a solid score, though not the one I was hoping for. Test anxiety took its toll, I think, and I'm just not quite at the expected level yet. This was disappointing for me, and it took me several days to get over myself. Meaning, coming to the actual understanding and belief that it wasn't a failure, but merely a marker of where my French language skills were at on that day, at that time, with added anxiety and pressure. My instructors all seemed a bit surprised and reassured me that with a bit more hard work I can overcome some of the difficulties.

2. LOTS of French. So, what to do but leave the country?! Less than a week after my test I left FSI for a two-week immersion in Quebec. It was fantastic! I stayed with a Quebecois woman, about my age, and her Guinean boyfriend. Neither spoke more than a dozen works of English during my stay, and we talked quite a bit. We ate breakfast and dinner together every day, and in the evenings we would relax in the living room together, watching TV (in French, of course) and playing/studying on our computers. I explored Old Quebec on foot every day and made conversation with waiters, shop-keepers and random other people. I took a tour or two in French, and tried to read all signs in French only.

Of course, it wasn't a complete vacation: I was in French class for half the day every day, generally four hours in the morning with a class and another hour in the afternoon in a private lesson. I found the teachers excellent and the school helpful. Some of the grammar we discussed there were covered when I got back, and I felt pretty good about knowing them already!

[Note for other FSO's considering immersions: I highly recommend it! On the logistics side, though: for me, it was completely out of pocket. Being a local hire, I don't receive per diem, and that includes when going to another country. Fair warning: it ain't cheap. But... it was totally worth it.]

Changing of the Guard at the Citadel.

3. A bit more French. And now, I find myself in a private class at FSI. It's fantastic: we're really focusing on how to use more complex grammar and doing in depth lessons. However, it's grueling, and the situation may change any day (instructor change, added students, etc). Also, with a test looming in just one month's time, the pressure is on to improve, improve, improve. Or, as I hear regularly, "Elevate your speech!" I created a regimented study plan to this end. However, a week and a half into it... I'm exhausted. Time to throttle back a little, I guess. 

4. Some fun. Dad came for a quick visit last week - arrived Saturday, left Sunday - which was great fun. We talked, ate delicious seafood, and did some kitchen shopping together. I spent some time by a pool with a good friend, catching up, and that was lovely. Another friend visited me for a walk through the zoo. This weekend, dinner with friends, disc golf with someone I haven't seen in awhile, a baby-viewing and a going away shindig. (And French studying. Of course.) There is still a social life, though there is some likelihood that my attention span is short and limited... my friends are forgiving, thankfully, and very supportive.

And that's all she wrote!

Putine, the dish I was told I must try:
fries, cheese curds, gravy. Mmmm.