Christmas in January

Christmas passed in a quiet way. Some parts were harder than last year, some parts were better. It was harder because I had higher expectations of enjoying myself which did not come to fruit. It was easier because I only managed a slight cold instead of lice, like last year. It was better because I made a decision and stuck with it to spend my New Years with CH buddies down south at a place called Saddle Mountain, and I actually enjoyed myself, too. Spent it as I imagined a young single adult would. Houseful of different people, sleeping in a hammock, bathing at the creek, cooking and eating in mass quantities, dancing up and a nice countdown to 2010.

But the spirit of the Holidays actually hit this month, with a few different instances:

Three Christmas packages obtained Wednesday the 13th from Home, Devon and Uncle Steve. Dev had a bunch of little things wrapped in Christmas paper - I loved it. I swear I could smell Devon in the wrapping paper. Uncle Steve sent tiny tree ornaments, a stocking and candy canes. Can't wait 'til next year to get a makeshift tree and trim that tropical bad boy! He also sent tons of books, some old ones he had, one in particular, a book that Mom and Dad had given him. I knew this because Dad had written an inscription on the inside cover, with the year. Mom and Dad sent a tin of holiday chocolate covered pretzels and a bag of Hershey's kisses. <3

Aunt Lisa posted pics on Facebook of Christmas Eve at Nana and Papa's. I'll say it again: My family is Beautiful. I drank you all in, from your smiles, to your poses, to my dad's swishy pants, even to Nana's microwave buttons. I sat in the library last Thursday morning with tears in my eyes as I perused the pics. THERE was my Holiday spirit. Goodness.

Tonight - Peanut Butter cookies with kisses in the middle! Ay ay ay!!!!!

My dissected Christmas has come to a close, and I feel at peace.

To Dance

The Rupununi makes me dance. The night air makes me dance. The sense of freedom makes me dance.

Or perhaps, to dance gives me the sensation of literal freedom.

To dance is to sing. To dance is to express. To dance is locution.


Chase truly is a kindred spirit. The parallels we've discovered within our lives are too great to NOT be kindred spirits. Just one example - dancing.

He's found his way into a few of my blogs so far, but you'll remember a blog I wrote a few months back about dancing. He has recently posted one about dancing, as well. I'm not sure his 'story' of dancing, but mine, as I've written, has just come to fruit here in Guyana. It's something that we both revel. I've had the pleasure of watching him dance as well as dancing with him - he's quite zesty.

As our experiences as PCV's and developing beings run different, yet parallel courses, Chase has incorporated some of our interchanges into his recent blogs, and I am going to do the same here. In his blog about dancing, he writes:


"To dance is to be free. To dance is to praise. To dance is to be.

Where makes you dance? What? To dance is to?

I dance for so many reasons. Guyana makes me dance. Everything makes sense again, especially after it rained. Dance."


The start to this blog was my response. And now I turn the questions Chase has brought forth to you: What makes you dance? To dance is to...?

Today's Testimonies

-Extreme excitement over a bagful of beef: one of the gifts PC service has given me.

I hear a cow was slaughtered; my senses perk up, I'm on high alert - BEEF! I've turned utter carnivore in the past year and a half. Stews, salted, fried, you name it, I eat it - and cook it - as often as possible. So, I go by Shamir's, and hover. Get the first pound or two, a generous gift from Hamzad, greatly relished. He asks if I'd like to buy more, I say yes and he tells me i'm gonna buy whatever he cuts; a huge chunk cut, 5 pounds - sure, why not? Good to go. Pay for it, turn to leave, and am given a nice chunk of liver, another kind gesture from Aunt Orcilla, Ivy's sister. A Wal-Mart sized bag filled to the brim with cow parts and I am smiling. Fried liver, beef stew and tasso for the next month or so.

-Only a true friend would, with no hesitation, grab your foot and dig around for and extract a sac of tiny worms bigger than a BB, aka a chigga, out of your toe.

So, around New Year's time, as I was trekking around down South, I felt a minor irritation on my toe and the next day saw a black spot. Figured it was a pimp-le, no biggie, and since it didn't hurt, I figured I'd get to it later. Never bothered me, but I'd look at it from time to time. The black spot spread white around it and I'd idly try to burst it, but not too hard. As I was trying just that this afternoon, Franzea looks at it and exclaims I have a chigga. A chigga! I've heard of them, I've seen the after-effects (gaping holes) and I've even dug a small one out of Shamir, but I've yet to have my own! (They're little worms you get from playing in the sand down here. They'll grow and grow in a sac until you pick them out.) "Want me to pick it out?" Frannie asks. Sure! She gets a needle and starts digging and tearing, quite efficiently. "I want to take it out whole," she says. Sure, that's cool, whatever. I'm gaffing around, not really paying attention as my foot rests in her lap and she works. She gets my attention and I look down and see this huge white ball protruding from my toe! "DUDE! OMG." Seriously, it's bigger than a BB. Frannie works it out and there it is, one black spot --- on a globe of white. I have a crater on the top of my toe. How weirdly cool.

-Juno or Kai?

Names for the new puppy. Yep, spur of the moment thing. Lucy got one, and I decided I wanted one, too. These are from one of Junita's dogs. They're probably around 5 weeks old; I have a girl and Lucy has a boy. Adorable. I'm hoping this goes better than Ari (may she RIP). The gal already has a brother for company and the mothering attention of Lucy working for her; I'm cautiously optimistic. Gotta love puppies. <3

A New Perspective

Quiet time. I seem to be getting less of it lately – but also appreciating it more when I do and finding it in different ways. Like lying in bed after waking up just now. And going to lime by Hamzad them yesterday after the long day in the library. I’ve come to appreciate the mornings before Jess has got up and I have my hammock to myself and read and have breakfast.

Jess always asking questions and tossing out ideas had kept me more alert and reflective – in a good way. I’m realizing how comfortable I’ve become here, how I’ve formed opinions of tendencies here and how I’ve responded to those tendencies. I’m wondering if Jess sees me the way I sorta saw Mike at first – a little to apathetic to “the issues.” I eventually realized that I mistook being well-worn for apathy, and then thought he should just try harder, though I finally understood that he’s just being realistic in regards to how life here is and how he could change things.

A four year old drinking cari, for example. Back in October or so, last year, he laughingly commented “Only in the Rupununi can you ask a four year old how the cari is and have them answer ‘strong.’” I was appalled to hear of a young child drinking an alcoholic drink and put out by Mike’s amusement at it. Shouldn’t he see it as a grave matter? Shouldn’t he discourage the behavior? Shouldn’t he educate that kid’s parents about the issues of alcohol? The answer I’ve come to learn is “Yes,” or “maybe”… but, ultimately, “no.” He can’t, shouldn’t and doesn’t tackle each issue here. No one person CAN, plus, it doesn’t work like that – you don’t go around, handing out nuggets of information that all can and will instantaneously cash in on and the world will be a better place. And accepting this doesn’t mean one has given up – just grown more realistic and therefore (potentially) more effective.

Still, though, Mike (and now myself) shouldn’t always be so complacent with the facts; occasional renewed efforts, different perspectives, techniques an then persistence should produce greater results and maintain more mental sanity – to some degree. “I’m gonna get you to care a little big more, and you’ll get me to care a little bit less,” I told Fernando a year ago. Same applies now, only I’m on the other side, sort of.

Balance. New blood combined with veteran knowledge. Balance.

Today's Reflections

I sent this in an email to mom, dad and some others, but after re-reading it, I figured it made a good blog, as well as a venue for my news:

I've decided officially to stay in Peace Corps, Guyana, Region 9, Yup., K. House for a third year.

Can I do it? Should I do it? These are my reflections today, ones that circle around my choice to stay:

At the moment, I'm not ok, but I'm working on being ok, which is ok in itself, right? It's funny, I have a feeling of sadness and fatigue, but also a feeling of calm, that is wonderful. I love when this happens. It allows me to pull forth and employ hidden depths of strength, intermittently.

There is something so therapeutic about singing with kids; I greatly love it. It calms me, it lifts my spirits, it gets me rejoicing. I sometimes feel as if I'm working with them to help me more than to help them.

I am looking into my loan info, an act that makes me feel quite mature. I think I have a handle on it, know how to get them under control for the upcoming third year. Taking this definitive action for a third year is empowering and I'm pleased with the concrete decision I consciously made - as opposed to letting time or opinion/suggestion of others lead me to accepting whatever plan. (Thank you, Mom.) It's also neat to have a plan to depend on for the future, to work with/around. Of course, plans change, but I am aware of external forces happening, and I am open to that. I at least have the force to take a step in my direction of choice first, as opposed to being pulled, pushed, floating whichever pell mell (seemingly) random way. I also recognize that I may change my mind, though I find that doubtful. But if so, that's ok, too, as it reflects a conscious, active control over my person (one I don't always feel). So I fully support the changing of my mind, if that's where I want to go.

Change is coming today, with this new volunteer here for 6 months. I was fearful and put out by it around two weeks back, but now I welcome the change and view it as necessary. I think it was time for a change. Things were getting stale and I was unable to overcome that on my own. It's a new beginning, for sure, though; I am leaving behind the 1.5 years of solidarity here, in K. House, and as a volunteer. I'll miss the alone time, but on the other hand, I think I need to interact with humans more; this New Year's trip to Saddle Mountain was a good exercise in just that. I even found I enjoyed it and did ok enough with it. Time for a change. I'm glad I'm ok with that.

Last thing: Don't clean a fish while intoxicated on any medium to high level. I'm sporting some cuts/scrapes on my hands this morning. As well as scales ALL over my kitchen. It really is an outside activity. Lesson learned. (But the meal was good, and the rice wine, while potent, made me proud. One last hurrah while the house was solely 'mine.')

Egg Nog, Side of Rum

Somehow, I don’t think the Christmas Coping Mechanism involves mind-altering substances. Still, though, is it avoidable? Where a couple beers makes listening to that reggae version of Auld Lange Synge a little more tolerable – hell, if not enjoyable. Not to dog reggae Christmas Carols – actually, there’s something so right about the combination of reggae and Christmas, it CAN’T be wrong. One of the joys I’m experiencing this holiday season.

But still, the effect of ingesting a couple beers or drinks, loosening the tongue, smoothing away the worry lines, making things a little more humorous… it’s been a good thing. It’s kept me on the optimistic side of the Holidays thus far. This is my second year away from home. I’ve done this once before; it’s bound to be easier, go smoother this year, right?

I sometimes think it would be better to be able to brush past the day all together, not even think about it, let alone celebrate it. It wouldn’t be too hard to just treat it like any other day here; all past traditions and holiday atmosphere is nowhere near my vicinity. But, no, instead, I get the name “Christmas” still thrown around, I get to hear imitations of the old Christmas hits, I see cheap, secondhand Christmas lights and decorations put up, I still see the talk about it online. And so a reminder of what was, what is and what is not.

If I were at home: I'd have gone to the Plaza at Thanksgiving to watch the lights turn on for the season. I would have gone to Crown Center to ice skate and shop. I would make peanut butter cookies with Hershey's Kisses in the middle. I would rock out every day to TSO's "Carol of the Bells." I would go to Panera Bread with Lacey and Devon to exchange gifts and eat Broccoli and Cheese soup out of a bread bowl. I would go to Midnight Mass and be assaulted by the smell of Frankincense. I would smell the smells of a fresh Christmas tree in my parents' house and I would hang up my favorite, meaningful ornaments. I'd wear scarves like nobody's business. I'd walk through our decorated dilapidated malls, remembering when I used to work at the Santa Photo Booth and Santa Train. I'd eat tamales at Nana and Papa's house, make gingerbread men and sugar cookies. I'd be going shopping to buy presents for loved ones, feeling either stressed or excited (or both) about what to get each one.

But, it’s dumb to linger on the past, huh? What WAS. I’m fortunate to have a change of scenery, new experiences. Plus, even if I WERE at home, I understand that all these old traditions may not still be used. Times change. The family’s gotten older. The last few years before I left, our family let our traditions go more and more, though I still tried to cling to them. Change is inevitable.

It occurs to me that in the years after one finishes school, and before they get a good, solid family of their own going, there is a sort of limbo, where old traditions are lost, and new traditions are not yet to come. To me the definition of “Christmas” means “ x.” This must change. There is the duality of wanting things to stay the same but also anticipating the future and the change that comes with it. No matter how fondly I look back at my past Christmas memories, I do acknowledge that at the time, to some degree, I could not WAIT for this time in my life, I could not wait to be as old as I am now.

Mike played Elf the other day in CH. He's staying in the village this year for Christmas and I'm excited to have a person around who celebrates a little more similar to me. Last year, I spent Christmas here in my village and truly, it was a time when I got to know people and processes A LOT better, and for that, I am thankful. However, it was hard, and I didn't realize it until the day of and then after, how the differences really affected me. The tastes of Christmas here were mere appetizers, not the full-blown traditions I'm used to at home.

Mike and I began to dissect Christmas. As if, by compartmentalizing the event, we could micromanage it into conquerable pieces. (or make sense of what we were – or weren’t – feeling). First, take away the immense marketing of the Holiday – the commercials, the sales, the displays, the hype of parties, etc. Then, take away the family. Take away the cold weather. Take away the holiday parties, the icons like egg nog, mistletoe and Santa Claus… What’s left? Well, there’s the slight atmosphere of Christmas: some smells, songs, the breaks from work, the feelings of generosity, goodwill and love… Though the atmosphere is sort of a culmination of the other stuff, isn’t it? Still, there is a lingering thread of the Christmas atmosphere here, to an extent.

It’s just a pale version of what I’m used to and that can be hard. What is neat, though, is the atmosphere that does seep in. A tree decorated, even if it’s not a pine tree and it’s with recycled containers and white paper colored on. Christmas carols sung by the children or at church. Cheap, weak Christmas lights strung up on a house. Yesterday, Miranda’s birthday, the young men go together and strung lights on a cashew tree outside the Li’s house. A big cardboard design of bells that had lights in it was raised on a pole in the middle of the tree, and then lights were draped around the branches, as icicles hung from the roof of the house. Once darkness hit, the lights gave off that wonderful Christmas ambiance. Spending time at the Li’s, too, was a feeing of family, one that helped make my Christmas spirit glow a little more.

Things like this are going to be appreciated the next week or so, no matter how few and far between (or how mild), but I do know that the accompaniment of some smooth 5 year El Dorado Rum and/or an ice cold Banks Beer will help Christmas go down, too.

Ultimately, it comes down to how much you can strip away from the holiday you know and still have it be a holiday, still have it feel like one. A lot was stripped away from what Mike and I knew as the holiday – people, places, things – but taking away these things did not take away the holiday as a whole.

12 Rups' Days of Christmas

I believe I am an under-appreciated creative genius; either that, or I simply amuse myself to great lengths.

In forging ideas for a Christmas concert here in Y, this (^) was one of the song titles I came up with, and I've been trying to convince them all that it'll be hilarious to do. I finally gathered a smattering of students after school yesterday and we compiled such an alternate list to the traditional Christmas carol. Towards the end, they seemed to catch on and find a little of the humour. Anyway, as I facilitated them with their list, I thought if I were to make my own 12 Rupununi Days of Christmas, what would they entail? So, for yours and my viewing pleasure only, I thought I'd put them in a blog.

So, check this list out and look for an upcoming "video" with pictures to accompany the list:

The 12 Rupununi Days of Christmas

a parrot in a cashew tree:

Cashew trees, with the cashew fruit and nut, are quite popular here, one of their seasons is during Christmas time. The rains that come around this time, which are post-rainy season, are called "Cashew rains" because they usually result in the trees blossoming with cashews, as they did this year. I don't really like the cashew fruit much. It makes my mouth go dry and I want to cough, but I can't because my mouth's full of juice. The cashew nut is at the bottom of the fruit and MUST be roasted before eaten, otherwise the acid in the fruit will cause whatever it touches to erupt in blisters and a rash. Parrots and macaws are quite normal around here.

2 bags farine:

Farine is a main staple of food here; made from the cassava root. It's eaten with stews, boiled into porridge for breakfast and eaten as shebay, with water and sugar. Families make enough for themselves, but also can make bagfuls to sell. I'm lucky enough to get most of my farine free.

3 lukanani:

lukanani, or peacock bass, is a major fish found in these waters. It's a scale fish and known for the eye-like dot on it's tail.

4 bowls of cari:

Cari, or kari, is the fermented beverage made from cassava. In the past, it was chewed into a pulp then left for ferment, now, it's grated. Serving it in cups, mugs, calabash (dried gourds cut into cups/bowls) or bowls big and small are the methods of drinking it.

5 motobikes:

Motorbikes (prononced "moto-bikes") are the main form of transp here. I've come to recognize the different bikes by sound. Peace Corps, at this time, does not allow us to ride on them, this will hopefully change soon.

6 hammocks swinging:

Hammocks, the bed and lounge item of champions. I don't think i'll ever be able to live without one in the future.

7 caiman swimming:

The black caiman, melanosuchus niger, is the biggest species of crocodile in the world and populates Guyana. The village I live in has a special study of the caiman that I've been fortunate to go on.

8 limers liming:

To "lime" is a term that came from sailors who would develop scurvy and the treatment of choice was to eat limes. SO when sailors would come to shore, people would avoid them, muttering "look at those limers liming about..." it stuck and now means to hang around, or loiter.

9 students reading:

I'm the Head Librarian of Y Public Library, seeing students reading is quite a wondrous feeling.

10 forro dancers:

Forro, a form of dance from Northern Brazil. Brazilians are quite sexy. It's fun to try.

11 dogs a-biting:

Dogs are all over. Barking loud, fighting over spoiled scraps... The two of the best-cared for dogs in the village, Caiman House's dogs, are Aeneas and Sally.

12 creatures crawling:

SELF EXPLANITORY.