Fifteen Kids, a Bull Cart and a PCV (Part 1)

Inter-house school athletics were this Thursday and Friday I had no idea a few weeks ago, just how big this was. But then the practicing during and after school started, and then a week before, practicing before school started. At 4:30, I’d hear the gong of the makeshift bell in the play field, which just happens to be my side and backyard. I, being assigned to the Pheasant House (Eagle and Macaw being the other Houses), attended and slightly aided in some of these practices. I’m no professional nor veteran athlete, but sports is in my blood and background, so I was able to at least pass on information such as the importance of stretching, graduated exertion and protocol/tips for competition.I’ve come to appreciate and enjoy this October disruption to the calendar and I’m glad I was a part of this first week of competitions.

Since the village of Q’s school annex is still considered a part of Y’s school, the two had three houses between them – Eagle and Peasant at Y and Macaws at Q. These Inter-House competitions were held at Q. I’d been away in TBC, then occupied by my first PCV visitor, so I was out of the loop in regards to preparations for set up. I did, however, secure a ride to Q with my inclusive counterpart, Russian. He, a former member of the Peasant House, offered to transport some of the house members in his family’s bull cart. He said there’d be enough room for me, too. Well, alright!

Miss Marva, Russian, I and some kids met at the market shelter at 6:30 Thursday morning and walked down the hill, past the formerly flooded ravine and to Miss Inez’s house, where the cart waited. I said I’d ride in the cart, but then Marva asked if I was walking, “I’ll walk if you walk,” I told her; I figured following her would be best. “We ride,” she says so we both hop on board, legs dangling over the front, two bulls' behinds staring at us. The cart is about 5’x7’, and some kids pile in behind us, Russian walking alongside, guiding them and Marva holding a makeshift whip out of a tree branch, whacking them every once in awhile and grunting “Hum! Humm!” at the pair. I, unfortunately, forget my camera – what a sight it was, though. The cart hardly went faster than those on foot around us, and I nervously heled on as the bulls slipped and backed up into us a couple times I didn’t realize it until later, but Marva was nervous, too. We had some good laughs, though.

The trek called for some chanting or road trip songs or something, but I was too busy with the novelty of the trip to organize it. We were on the road for about an hour.

Russian, as well as Rosita, are with the Pheasant House, and Miss Marva is busy with the scoring table. Between Rosita, Russian and I, we make sure each competitor is ready for the events (running, jumping, cricket ball toss) and I check off completed events, and note if any Pheasant bring first (that’s how they say take first, or place first – I brought first). I pass around my water bottle for the kids and athletes, probably not the most sanitary thing, but we didn’t think to bring other bottles for the kids. Russian is especially enthusiastic and invested in the kids and their events; he really gets the other kids (and me) to cheer the competitors on. Plus, those kids, some at least, try so hard they practically collapse once they reach the finish line; it’s hard not to get caught up in the competitions. “Run up, run up!” they call to the competitors, meaning “Run faster, catch up!” I learn names better because of this, too.

At the end of the day, around 2:30, the total points earned stands at: Eagles 156, Pheasants 149, and Macaws 135. We wait for Russian to collect the bulls and yoke them back to the cart. The kids dub the cart a “minibus” and giggling and jabbering in Makushi is heard all around. I hop on again, but Marva stays behind. Russian hands the lead ropes to Malinda, a quick 10 year old and we’re off – more kids on board then in the morning, and completely devoid of all adults besides me. It takes me a second to realize this, and I didn’t know whether to be nervous or simply place my life in the competent (?) hands of 15 Y kids, whose expertise added together may or may not equal one adult. Malinda and Lucilyn, another 10 year old, are liberal with the “Hum’s!” and whip lashes, though we don’t seem to go very fast at all, and I have kids hanging all over me and messing around in the back. The road splits and the bulls take one path. “Are we going the right way? Should we turn them?” I ask. “They know the path, Miss,” they tell me. Okay….

But then we veer off that path – and keep going. No one really does anything about it, either. “Aren’t we supposed to be up there?” I ask. “Yes, Miss,” they answer. But nothing. Then they try pulling the ropes to get the bull to go right, they try whacking them on their sides, but the bulls don’t care. “Whaow, whow,” they say, trying to get them to stop. “Whaow!” I shout, too.

They stop, get all turned around, one with his messy butt up close to us in front. I wait for something to happen, but it doesn’t. I start to hop down, figuring, sure, I don’t know a thing about leading a bull cart, but maybe I can pull them back to the road somehow. Though the kids, through their unstructured chatter and inaction, shout, “No, Miss, no!” Right after that, the bull closest to us starts to seriously pee, so I quickly jump back up, out of range. I look to Sevannie, the oldest in the cart for guidance, though it’s Lucilyn who eventually gets out, takes the ropes and guides us back to the road. I am in hysterics with laughter and ignorance, already forming this blog in my head. We get back on track, Lucilyn hops back on board and I begin craning my neck around, searching for Russian or Marva – nothing.

We get off the road again and it hits me how even though the kids are very skilled in some things more than kids in the States are, or even I am, and that Russian and Marva made it look easy enough earlier, it’s not exactly as easy as pie and what the hell am I doing in a cart pulled by bulls several hundred pounds in size, “protected” by a gaggle of kids and nothing else?? It was with great relief I hear Russian catch up to us and to get the bulls as responsive as they were this morning, pulling them back on the road and shimmying up to the front and taking over. He chastises Malinda for letting them get off track, as if she should have known, and I fell a tad less foolhardy about getting myself into the situation I was in; the kids could (should) take care of things. All’s well that ends well, I suppose.