A Parallel Universe?

After a 30 minute call to home, I’m left feeling like I belong to two different places, two different worlds. It seems so easy to make KC a part of my past – something that faded to only to be replaced by the present Guyana. Talking with mom and dad and Tony made home come to the fore font of my mind, more vivid and a part of me than ever. Which is odd to consider, as my surroundings suggest otherwise. The two places seem worlds apart (and I seem to have classified them a such) when in many cases, they are not. I guess my immediate world (fam, friends, places) are different, and to me – to all of us, maybe – that can seem like the only world existing sometimes. But I don’t think I realized how great the differences were (or how much I perceived them to be) until I spoke with and observed a Guyanese woman who has lived in Miami for the past three years. She came to visit her family for a few weeks and my first experience in the mandir was going to a service that included a pooga for her. (Mandir is their church/temple, pooga is a sort of prayer ceremony that one person or a few people will do. I saw one done at the Dig dutty, the wedding and the 13 day) . Then, one evening, a woman and her granddaughter came to my host family’s house to visit. As soon a she started talking, my first reaction was that I liked this woman. It puzzled me for a second; she spoke similar to Guyanese, using the “me nah know’s” and “dat” and “dis” – but there was something different about her.

I finally realized her accent – it wasn’t bona fide Guyanese, it was clearer and spoken with more… personality. It also was her aura/ attitude. She was more assertive, alert, self-aware. After consciously noticing all this, I realized that she was the one living in the U.S. and THAT was why I liked her so much! I saw in her that familiar U.S. demeanor something I didn’t realize we possessed OR that I was starved for, something I hadn’t realize meant so much to me. Seeing a Guyana-born woman with U.S. characteristics was even more meaningful. One, it was just a delight to see a mixture, since it’s been US and THEM, on the two extremes. It’s kind of like a Guyanese/American hybrid or something. Also it made me realize how different Guyanese (women) were from Americans. Guyanese woman are more reserved, less self-aware, less flamboyant. Their words blend into each other with no intonation. Though perhaps it just seems that way to me, a foreigner, maybe there are more subtle nuances to the language a foreigner does not observe. Self-aware seems the best description ;there was just something about her that shouted “American.” It made me see what others must perceive in us. After I realized she was “the one” who was visiting from the U.S., it felt like a link to home! So there I was, in Guyana experiencing the bugs, heat, hammock, roti ,gold jewelry, etc. and hearing abut Miami, garage doors and Hillary Clinton and Barrack Obama. It was the oddest sensation. Yup, almost as if there were a rip in the space/time continuum or a parallel universe or something. I think the clash of my two worlds is a good thing, though. It’ll help me during my two years in turning it from “Us and Them” to “We.”

And I can’t even imagine what it’ll feel like when I have visitors from the US! How strange will that be?

Volunteer Visit

I took off for my Volunteer Visit today (this entry was first written then typed). In the past, PC has sent trainees to visit their future sites to check things out, though this year, they decided to send us to visit a current volunteer to get an idea of what volunteering life is like. Sole trainees, or groups of two or three took off last week and this week to visit a volunteer somewhere in the country, staying with them 4 or 5 days. I was set to visit one volunteer by myself, but she was too busy, so I ended up visiting another volunteer, with Emily, a fellow trainee. Though I went a day later than she did and got to navigate there all by my lonesome. It was an educational experience, though.

Being at this volunteer’s site les than an entire day has given me a lot to unload and process. What I’ve noticed: a good counterpart has a big influence on how you integrate into the community. Building relationships with your co-workers is crucial, for several reasons: being included/counted amongst your peers, they’ll help you with your new job, they’ll give you background on the school and the students and they are the ones who can best tell you what their needs are; they will be much more receptive to the new methods you introduce them to; there’s a better chance that what you facilitate with them will become sustainable. It’s important to set aside the first month… or two… or three to simply assess the job – observe how and what’s being taught, classroom management, know students’ abilities. I know now that it wouldn’t be wise to jump into a classroom of my own and start teaching – I need to not only get to know my colleagues and students, but I need to get some class experience first, having never done that. It might be good to first just visit the class once a week to observe and let the kids get to know me with small exercises and then move in for the serious stuff. I’ve also noticed that secondary projects an be as informal as a Saturday morning play time with kids. It might help with getting to know the kids and families. Maybe we’d map out the area together, or create a nature book of their community’s vegetation I’ve noticed you can be very relaxed about your job assignment – this can be comforting and harmful. I hope I never get to a point during my assignment where I become too comfortable and complacent.

One last observation: apathy is a challenge to overcome. Some have stated that education beyond the primary level is “not necessary” for the lifestyle of the people here as farmers, workers, etc. I believe that people can support themselves with a primary school education, having learned basic math and life skills – but there is so much more to education and life than that, and I ache for people to realize that. PCVs seem to have an even bigger job in front of them, if they can handle that challenge.

Most enjoyable places

I’ve been thinking of the places I enjoy most in the world. My favorite places to be, the most inspiring. The first, and best, place that came to mind was Watkins Mill State Park. The place has appeal on several different levels. First, it is the place of many fond childhood memories. I spent some fun-filled summer das and nights there with my family, cousins and friends. It was the epitome of my childhood – bikes, bugs, bonfires and beach fun. It’s also the place of many fond adult memories – that first camping trip with Amanda and Tricia without parents, all the way to my birthday camping trip this past year. Surrounding a campfire with friends and hot dogs? The best. Campfires, to me, are one of the most soothing, beautiful things. Watkins Mill also has quietness about it that I appreciate. I’ve done some great reflections and meditations while walking the bike trail. I also love the drive it takes to get there. A second favorite place of mine is pretty different to the tranquility of Watkins Mill - the Kansas City City Market. It’s another beloved place of my childhood. It’s where I first started to go my own way, step outside the mold, with ear cuffs, cacti and tie dye. As an adolescent, it was an exciting place full of new things, as an adult, it represents things I have a great interest in – individual skills and crafts, homegrown food, small businesses, originality, muti-cultural interactions and exposure to new things. I am leaning towards self-sustainability more and more and greatly praise those who already are. I support the small businesses and favor handmade original pieces of art that’s more expensive to factory-made cookie-cutter cheaper things. The City Market is fresh tomatoes, grapes, roasted corn, plants, herbs, jewelry, culture and beauty. It’s coffee and the city, honey and musicians. These two place are very dear to me; they are just two of many such places that keep coming to mind when I’m so far from home.

I remember sitting at the Brass Rail with Tricia and Amanda that last time and talking about the future. Helping Devon move into her apartment. Susie’s house at night with the living room lamps on, the whole house clean and empty, the old-fashioned feel to it. Memories and people have also popped into my mind recently. I’m not sure if it’s homesickness or what. Sure, I miss everything, but I know that after a day or week, perhaps, it would become old news. I’m trying to find new comforts and memories here.

One was found at Lake Mainstay this past weekend. Mary, Beth and I had gone to Karishma's host family's house to speak with her host sister about a KEEPRAH assignment. They next day they invited us to the lake to celebrate Karishma’s birthday. Beth, Morgan and I went with them (Mary had already left for her volunteer visit) and it was a blast. The water felt good, no bugs were around, and we played catch with some piece of fruit… I had a good time with my fellow trainees and with Karishma’s host family. While I was in the coke-colored water, a cousin tossed me a mango – I dropped it and it sank – who knew mangos didn’t float? He tossed me another one and I dropped that too – but I vowed to get it and dove down for it. I got it, bit a tear in the peel and enjoyed a warm, sweet mango right there in the water. It was so good. There are these little things like that here that are pretty enjoyable. I had 7 Curry again today at the 13-day for the two men who died in the accident. There’s something too cool about eating 7 types of veggie curry with your hand out of a big leaf. I also got a lot of Prasad, this doughy sweet treat, which I love. Before and after eating, we washed our hands with a pitcher pouring water and a pot catching it underneath. The little things.

An Eye Opening Experience

While the classroom experience opened my eyes to the finer points of volunteering, today, my eyes were blinded by the light. We’ve been talking about peer education, and all of us paired up and were told to come up with a session on a certain topic for a certain group and then present it to the group. Demond and I had “High Risk, Low Risk, No Risk.” With women ages 24-30. The peer ed manual provided a pretty detailed description of the session on assessing risks of contracting HIV/AIDS through certain activities and we only changed a few things. I went into this project very laid back and unconcerned. Hey, I had already affirmed I had aced Social Skills101, what was the worry? Boy, was I in for a surprise. We were the fourth or fifth group to go and with each group before us, we, the audience had to act according to the presenters’ audience; church goers, 16-17 year old boys, 16-24 mixed, etc., but really, no big deal. With me and Demond, however, it was a whole other story. We introduced ourselves, talked about what we’d be doing and what the first activity was… we got no response out of them! We repeated ourselves, kindly teased for some response, but nothing. We were doing everything the staff had been teaching us, everything the other presenting teams had done, and the response and participation was zilch. For about half the time, I thought it was because we were presenting badly and they were truly bored and confused. This made my confidence falter greatly. Never has the silence been so awkward.

With my confidence faltering, my objectives went out the window and I felt like an alien in the room. I changed my tones, tried to clarify instructions and tried prompting the “women,” but not much worked. We asked them to place a statement in a category of High Risk, Low Risk, No Risk or Unknown. People seemed confused and unsure, and just stood around, in small groups, murmuring when they should have been walking about, and picking the category their situation fell in. I asked DeAnna if she needed help and she nodded, murmuring she didn’t know where hers went. I read it aloud, wondering if she “couldn’t read” and asked her what she thought – she said she didn’t know. Oh crap! This group must not know much about HIV! Can they even read? WHY did we assume so much? Obviously, loud peppy, active tactics weren’t going to work for these people. Whatever role PC staff told them to play, they were doing it beautifully. Unfortunately, loud, peppy stuff was all we had created! I realized we had created our program based on the dynamics of our group, not of our target group and certainly not taking into account any detours or problems. We assumed they had been exposed to the meaning of HIV, and had basic knowledge of how you can contract it. With the limited responses, I felt the need to speed things up, move on – get the hell out of there. We addressed some of the sticky notes, but it seemed like we were getting nowhere. So we left the majority of them where they were placed – a bad move on our part, because we could have exposed them to the info even if they weren’t participating. We should have adapted our session to be one of HIV ed and had gradual participatory activities. After the sticky note activity, we were going to do a debate – obviously a bad choice for the group. We ended up just having them split into two groups and discuss why the scenario we came up with could be low or high risk. One group said “Shannon’s the only person who can read.” OOOh, another hurdle. I briefly convened with Demond, though only to ix-nay on the ebate-day, and we basically remained phased about it all – I did, at least. I went to one group, who seemed comatose. It felt like I was looking into the souls of my fellow PCT’s, pleading with them to connect with me. I finally understood they were playing a part, but the realization came too late – I just wanted the experience to be over.

I felt like a failure and way too big for my britches, or however the saying goes. It certainly made me alert to the fact that even though training wasn't always hardcore in your face, PCVs certainly are called to do some hardcore things – this was no walk in the park. I dunno, part of me had centered my thoughts around kids and other young, modern people being the main focus of my assignment. Which is dumb, of course, my assignment wherever it will be, will involve an entire community, not just one part of it. I have been reminded on various occasions of the solemn duty ahead of me. The accident was one of those times (a car hit a motorcycle just a few houses down from mine a few weeks back. Two died.) My experience at the primary school where there was no order, no discipline. There it was, reality screaming me in the face – children in need of a stable teacher, education and guidance. And while these moments have been the most terrifying of my weeks with the PC, they’ve also bee the ones where I've felt the most alive, most aware of my struggle for a place in this world. I felt held accountable, I felt weight and wanted. And while I didn’t totally bomb it, there’s certainly room for improvement. It’s vital I’m prepared to fill the shoes of a PCV, I want to do the PC and my country proud. Ergo, my main focus right now will be reading and studying all the resources given to me. I can’t lose my purpose for being here.

Integration Fears

One of my fears were not integrating into the community, not feeling comfortable with my host family and being homesick. Ok, that’s three fears, but they’re all related. I’m quite pleased with how that all has worked out. I am getting to know my training community, and they are recognizing me and remembering my name. I am conversing with some; any opportunity that arises. I’m really engaging people, which I’m proud of. It’s good to know (or perhaps reaffirm) I can make friends with new people/environments. My new anxiety is regarding my specific job as a PCV. Sure, I can integrate and share my culture with them, but will I be a professional at my job? Will I be competent? For awhile, training seemed to be easy as pie, with us all getting comfortable with things and trying to find similar comforts there. But with a few KEEPRAH assignments and a two hour immersion in a primary school classroom, I’ve come to appreciate the finer goals/instructions of the PC.

KEEPRAH and PACA are two acronyms for tools to help us analyze and understand our communities. Every week, we'll be given different assignments where we have to go into the communities. So far, we've made a map of our community and interviewed different people to learn about Kinship, Associations and Education in our training village. In my village, there's two other trainees, and we do these assignments together and then present them to the whole group. We've also gotten to visit the primary school in our village, which was exciting. Our first visit, we played with the kids during recess, then the second time, we were there to observe. That quickly turned into taking on the class by ourselves, and because we had played with the kids before, they didn't look at us as authority figures! Lesson learned.

I've only been in the Peace Corps for, like, SEVEN DAYSSS!!

Borrowed from (and slightly altered) one of my favorite comedies, Corky Romano, this describes how I’m feeling at the moment. For all who haven’t seen the movie, this quote comes when Corky, pretending to be in the FBI to steal all the evidence against his father, is sent out to do some actual FBI work. He walks into a junkyard, badly costumed as a thug, they quickly see through his disguise and it cuts to him on the floor, crying to the tough guys, “I’ve only been in the FBI for, like, two daysss!”

No matter how prepared someone might think they are for something like this, they aren’t. The PC warned me that everything you're used to, from your own bed, to your routine in the bathroom, will change, but I don’t think it registered that every minute of every hour, I'd be immersed in these changes. Part of me knows I’m in it for the long haul, but another part of me expects the trip to end and to go home soon. My travels thus far have prepared me somewhat, but a lot of what I’ve experienced here on has precedence in only movies and NOVA. It feels like I’ve experienced a lot in the past three days here in Guyana, maybe too much for that short of time.

My host family is Indo-Guyanese, practicing Hinduism. That in itself is a big experience. My host parents have an altar they pray at every morning and the family doesn't eat beef or pork. There was a wedding down the street and my host mom took me to it. There were many similarities between our gatherings and this one, but there were many differences, too. I walked across the bridge, over the trench, and into the front yard of where the wedding was taking place the next day. The night before was the dig dutty, where there were prayers, blessings and dancing. Pretty streamers, flowers and palm branches decorated the area. The bride was dressed in henna, a lot of gold jewelry an Indian dress (maybe a sari), and a veil. As they prayed, they held flowers, coins, rice in their hands, they lit incense, lit small fires and at one point the mother of the bride took dirt tilled up and tied some into her veil. She later released it into the ground where they placed a tree. With the drums beating and songs being sang, it was a mesmerizing, loud, filled weekend.