A difficult decision has been made. Making this decision, a unilateral withdrawal from the much lamented water project, has been a painful process. I am not able to, in good faith, procure funds for a project that may or may not be realized in the present time frame. Already the “what-ifs” are bubbling to the surface threatening to overturn the fragile line of thought that supports my present convictions, but I am at a loss as to what other options remain.
The most salient consideration has been the unshakeable feeling that this was an idea entirely of my own making, sans the requisite community commitment. While certain members of the community are interested and have, at times, been excited about the idea of constructing a rainwater catchment system for their school, the assurance of greater community involvement is not there. Considering the present circumstances, I do not see how a large scale construction project could be completed in my last two months of service (when the monies may arrive).
The most embarrassing and shaming aspect of this is that I can’t seem to muster the desire to push hard enough to see the project through. This, I fear, is a failing entirely of my own making. Even so I am left with two choices: pushing through a project that has little chance of success (completion) or giving up with the possibility of success, never mind how small, remaining.
Some former volunteers, knowing more in-depth the history of this particular effort, may shake their heads at these words. I don’t know what to say; I couldn’t pull it together.
I’ll attempt not to wallow in regret or self-doubt over this. Other things remain on the horizon that require attention; things that have a much higher likelihood of success. As far as what the community’s perception will be of me regarding the abortive project, I’m not sure. I suspect that people are well used to things not working out and it’s doubtful that it’ll reflect badly upon me, though, to a certain degree, it probably should.
In more exciting news I’ve discovered an effective way to fire my oven (i.e. transfer the energy from burning wood into the oven walls). I poked a small hole opposite the oven door (as it doesn’t have a chimney) to help improve air flow and built the fire around the channel of air the hole created. The effect? I used less wood to heat the oven to baking temperatures and am sure that more heat entered the clay. Why? Well, this time instead of simply baking the first four loaves of bread, the oven burned them to a crisp (the second four came out much better). More heat.
When I was a sophomore or junior in college I had wanted a bread machine; Mom said, “No, you’ll just get fat.” I guess she knew about carbs then. The funny thing is that if I had a bread machine I’d probably not gain as much weight as with this clay oven (bread machines bake one loaf at a time, clay ovens bake 8-12 loaves of bread, two trays of brownies, banana bread, pizza, scones, and whatever else in one sitting). Don’t worry Mom, I ride a bike.
Today I travel to Imugan and Malico; we’ll construct the second layer of Malico’s oven and witness the second performance of Imugan’s dance troupe.
The most salient consideration has been the unshakeable feeling that this was an idea entirely of my own making, sans the requisite community commitment. While certain members of the community are interested and have, at times, been excited about the idea of constructing a rainwater catchment system for their school, the assurance of greater community involvement is not there. Considering the present circumstances, I do not see how a large scale construction project could be completed in my last two months of service (when the monies may arrive).
The most embarrassing and shaming aspect of this is that I can’t seem to muster the desire to push hard enough to see the project through. This, I fear, is a failing entirely of my own making. Even so I am left with two choices: pushing through a project that has little chance of success (completion) or giving up with the possibility of success, never mind how small, remaining.
Some former volunteers, knowing more in-depth the history of this particular effort, may shake their heads at these words. I don’t know what to say; I couldn’t pull it together.
I’ll attempt not to wallow in regret or self-doubt over this. Other things remain on the horizon that require attention; things that have a much higher likelihood of success. As far as what the community’s perception will be of me regarding the abortive project, I’m not sure. I suspect that people are well used to things not working out and it’s doubtful that it’ll reflect badly upon me, though, to a certain degree, it probably should.
In more exciting news I’ve discovered an effective way to fire my oven (i.e. transfer the energy from burning wood into the oven walls). I poked a small hole opposite the oven door (as it doesn’t have a chimney) to help improve air flow and built the fire around the channel of air the hole created. The effect? I used less wood to heat the oven to baking temperatures and am sure that more heat entered the clay. Why? Well, this time instead of simply baking the first four loaves of bread, the oven burned them to a crisp (the second four came out much better). More heat.
When I was a sophomore or junior in college I had wanted a bread machine; Mom said, “No, you’ll just get fat.” I guess she knew about carbs then. The funny thing is that if I had a bread machine I’d probably not gain as much weight as with this clay oven (bread machines bake one loaf at a time, clay ovens bake 8-12 loaves of bread, two trays of brownies, banana bread, pizza, scones, and whatever else in one sitting). Don’t worry Mom, I ride a bike.
Today I travel to Imugan and Malico; we’ll construct the second layer of Malico’s oven and witness the second performance of Imugan’s dance troupe.
posted by peter at 18:08
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