I’ve often thought, lately, that I seem to be experiencing the best of both worlds. And there’s some guilt associated with that, but then, I wonder, would others feel the same as I? Family and friends back home seem to give me more credit than I feel I’m due, because this has been pretty great so far – very enjoyable and not too crazy. Maybe me being so content is why I get so much credit? I dunno. Because I feel VERY content with all I get to do and see:
I get to experience LIFE, living life, stuff you have to work at and earn to enjoy. I get to be in an environment that encourages and fosters personal maturation – skills and understandings I’ve lacked. Because before, some things have been prepared and handed to me, I’ve not had to learn certain things, not had to confront certain facts of life – facts as profound and personal as the realities of alcohol consumption, or as shallow and silly as cooking oatmeal or rice without a box with step by step instructions on it, or as medium as scaling and gutting a live fish.
I get to be removed from dozens of sinful temptations – gluttony (food and possessions), sloth (transportation and basic needs at arm’s length away) and all the other temptations of modern conveniences that can be distracting like TV and computers and stores.
I get to experience nature – raw, scary, beautiful nature – every day, unrestricted, in my backyard. Forget Kodak moments, fake flowers, staged oasis’s, it’s here, it’s real.
I get to LIVE in, not just visit, a village in the Hinterland region of a country in South America. I see and learn day to day happenings. I participate and help in those happenings. I get to be a part of life outside the life I’ve known thus far. I am given a place here in my village and I have accepted that place. Not bona fide yet, I don’t fit like a glove, but there’s been extension and reciprocation on a more than superficial level.
These are some of the more meaningful reasons I feel so lucky, but there are several secondary “perks” that I can think of, too:
-I get to travel and get cultured. I am taken care of with the basics, as well - and don’t have to worry about income (or taxes or gas or stuff like that).
-I get to gain some killer stories and pictures for back home.
-I get to still be connected with home and receive love, support and letters/packages from them. Tons of TLC; I feel spoiled.
-I get to make friends and have fun here – it’s not a solemn affair!
-I get to work with and be inspired by and meet so many different and amazing and accomplished and ambitious people! PC and HCN alike. (I think this is a more major reason, not secondary, actually)
-I get to spend my days with kids and BOOKS – books that inspire me to no end.
I get to be in a place that keeps me aware and responsive, that is relaxed enough to feel comfortable, but, at the same time, that calls me to work towards something, to give, to work with others. It is a higher calling than I’ve experienced before and I am honored to be attempting it, grateful for the opportunity.
Nick, a fellow volunteer in the region, said to me right before I left for my village that “sometimes, you need to take before you can give.” I have taken all of these “perks” and I have enjoyed and appreciated them. The spring term begins next Monday, and now, five months after that piece of wisdom from Nick, I think it’s actually time to start giving back on a higher level. I hope I’ve “given” a little thus far, but now it’s time to kick it up a notch. The familiar anxiety creeps up as I realize this and become unsure, but I now have five months worth of experience and relationships going for me. Let’s see if the new year can be rewarding on two different levels.
Happy New Year!
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
"Me" Defined
I just found out that Anthony, one of the first people I met here in Y, and one of the people I interact the most with, is engaged to Maria, a woman who works at CH and they live together and have a little daughter. How could I know Anthony for all this time and not know he had a wife and kid? It amazes me I could not have already known such a big fact about someone I’ve known for almost 5 months. How unperceptive of me, how rude of me not to find out such a staple component of one’s life.
Though as I reflected on my lack of proper attention to things and deficiency of questions asked, I also began to reflect on a big cultural difference – maybe it is not considered a staple component here? Sure, I hadn’t asked him if he had a family of his own – but neither did he tell/show me he had a family of his own, nor did the situation to find out by happenstance (before now) occur. To me, Anthony appeared to be acting as a single guy – I never heard Maria’s name mentioned, she didn’t accompany him places, he didn’t talk about home or the baby. Franzea (her and Anthony are brother and sister) never brought it up when talking about her family. No family outings to be seen, no rings on fingers.
Which leads me to an observation of MY culture – Americans are a lot more self conscious. We have a strong idea of what it means to be “me” and are quick to inform others. You know, those basic things like profession, family status; anything we feel defines us, clarifies who we are, separates us from the crowd. Also, to Americans, to meet a person is to share names. Our names are the first thing that makes us distinct. Sure, you may learn someone’s name and then forget it and have to ask again later or find out from someone, but you go into a conversation with that simple understanding. Our basic human interactions are to share names, share occupation – how one generally occupies their time. It is to share significant others and small details of the relationship – been together 3 years, engaged, just married, married 2 years, recently divorced, widowed. It is to share if you have any children and it is customary for parents talk about their children. TOO much, even. Is this done out of pride? Need for self definition? Pompousness? Or just assertiveness? And a clear self concept? Not sure.
Attention to the self is not stressed here. There is a certain humility and quietness about those I meet. There is definitely pride in accomplishments and they know how to enjoy themselves, but that “I” factor seems fairly non-existent.
How do we define who we are? Is it our daily activities? Those we surround ourselves with? Our actions? What are the key things about you you’d want people to know?
Perhaps Anthony does not need to be “Husband” or “Father” to be a good friend, guide and village representative... but don’t those roles add to and further define who he is? Can you really know someone without knowing some of these basic facts? Or are these facts even considered basic by Guyana?
Though as I reflected on my lack of proper attention to things and deficiency of questions asked, I also began to reflect on a big cultural difference – maybe it is not considered a staple component here? Sure, I hadn’t asked him if he had a family of his own – but neither did he tell/show me he had a family of his own, nor did the situation to find out by happenstance (before now) occur. To me, Anthony appeared to be acting as a single guy – I never heard Maria’s name mentioned, she didn’t accompany him places, he didn’t talk about home or the baby. Franzea (her and Anthony are brother and sister) never brought it up when talking about her family. No family outings to be seen, no rings on fingers.
Which leads me to an observation of MY culture – Americans are a lot more self conscious. We have a strong idea of what it means to be “me” and are quick to inform others. You know, those basic things like profession, family status; anything we feel defines us, clarifies who we are, separates us from the crowd. Also, to Americans, to meet a person is to share names. Our names are the first thing that makes us distinct. Sure, you may learn someone’s name and then forget it and have to ask again later or find out from someone, but you go into a conversation with that simple understanding. Our basic human interactions are to share names, share occupation – how one generally occupies their time. It is to share significant others and small details of the relationship – been together 3 years, engaged, just married, married 2 years, recently divorced, widowed. It is to share if you have any children and it is customary for parents talk about their children. TOO much, even. Is this done out of pride? Need for self definition? Pompousness? Or just assertiveness? And a clear self concept? Not sure.
Attention to the self is not stressed here. There is a certain humility and quietness about those I meet. There is definitely pride in accomplishments and they know how to enjoy themselves, but that “I” factor seems fairly non-existent.
How do we define who we are? Is it our daily activities? Those we surround ourselves with? Our actions? What are the key things about you you’d want people to know?
Perhaps Anthony does not need to be “Husband” or “Father” to be a good friend, guide and village representative... but don’t those roles add to and further define who he is? Can you really know someone without knowing some of these basic facts? Or are these facts even considered basic by Guyana?
The Giggles
I've had (and heard) the giggles a lot lately. Possibly one of the most enjoyable sensations. Delight, giddiness, humor (or sometimes lack of humor) and an overall pleasant feeling or sensation that comes over you. And then there's second-hand giggling, that comes from hearing someone else's giggles and being compelled to giggle, too.
Besides the slight giggles I experience at least once a day, I started a phase of really good giggles the other day -
Sunday, while fishing (or trying to) in Simoni. Despite the abundance of fish in the river, the quality of lure I was using and the time and mental effort put into catching something, I could not. All the others around me were pulling them in left and right, but me - nothing. Towards the end of the day, the boats' concentration was on me getting a fish. "OK, you're gonna catch one now, I can feel it," Fernando would say. But its as if fate's plan was for me to NOT catch a fish that day. As for why, I'm not sure, but apparently she was serious about it. So upon considering all this, plus reflecting on this particular need of mine to ensnare a fish through the mouth, and then pull it onto the boat by myself, I began to get the giggles. Tee hee hee... It didn't help me catch a fish, but it made the disappointment easier.
Wednesday - camp out with Wildlife Club on the sandbank. Russian and I had supervised the set up of camp, volleyball, dinner and we gave a brief speech of welcome and shout out to WC activities. We later went on a nature walk, looking for any sort of creatures. It was kind of silly, because no doubt our noise level had scared off anything interesting, and so we kind of just found regular things to study. As the torchlights were shined around, I could hear a group of people, Russian included, debating on whether a form in the tree was a bird or not. I was only half paying attention, but I did notice a rock being thrown into the air at the tree. Something took flight and at the same time I put two and two together, Russian says "Yep. It's a bird." For some reason, the unnecessary declaration greatly amused me and I had the giggles for several minutes over it.
Later that night, after some alcohol, we go to our hammocks. Chris is fumbling with his net, Franzea is conked out, I'm silent, but Shamir is giggling. No other sound, just giggling, then stop. After 30 seconds to a minute, again. No idea why. So every time he'd laugh, I'd start to join in. "Hee, hee hee..." -"Hee, hee hee!" Apparently, he was laughing at Chris, struggling with his hammock.
Friday - Bike ride. No breaks, night time, unfamiliar terrain, mud, loose gravel, wavering, steering. Not been on a bike in years. Giggles WHILE pedaling.
Besides the slight giggles I experience at least once a day, I started a phase of really good giggles the other day -
Sunday, while fishing (or trying to) in Simoni. Despite the abundance of fish in the river, the quality of lure I was using and the time and mental effort put into catching something, I could not. All the others around me were pulling them in left and right, but me - nothing. Towards the end of the day, the boats' concentration was on me getting a fish. "OK, you're gonna catch one now, I can feel it," Fernando would say. But its as if fate's plan was for me to NOT catch a fish that day. As for why, I'm not sure, but apparently she was serious about it. So upon considering all this, plus reflecting on this particular need of mine to ensnare a fish through the mouth, and then pull it onto the boat by myself, I began to get the giggles. Tee hee hee... It didn't help me catch a fish, but it made the disappointment easier.
Wednesday - camp out with Wildlife Club on the sandbank. Russian and I had supervised the set up of camp, volleyball, dinner and we gave a brief speech of welcome and shout out to WC activities. We later went on a nature walk, looking for any sort of creatures. It was kind of silly, because no doubt our noise level had scared off anything interesting, and so we kind of just found regular things to study. As the torchlights were shined around, I could hear a group of people, Russian included, debating on whether a form in the tree was a bird or not. I was only half paying attention, but I did notice a rock being thrown into the air at the tree. Something took flight and at the same time I put two and two together, Russian says "Yep. It's a bird." For some reason, the unnecessary declaration greatly amused me and I had the giggles for several minutes over it.
Later that night, after some alcohol, we go to our hammocks. Chris is fumbling with his net, Franzea is conked out, I'm silent, but Shamir is giggling. No other sound, just giggling, then stop. After 30 seconds to a minute, again. No idea why. So every time he'd laugh, I'd start to join in. "Hee, hee hee..." -"Hee, hee hee!" Apparently, he was laughing at Chris, struggling with his hammock.
Friday - Bike ride. No breaks, night time, unfamiliar terrain, mud, loose gravel, wavering, steering. Not been on a bike in years. Giggles WHILE pedaling.
Some say "Just breathe," others say "Just dance;" I'm going with "Just giggle."
Sunday, December 14, 2008
For Future Reference:
For future reference:
-Torchlight
-Long sleeves and pants
-Soap
-Hammock (as well as rope)
To what do these items refer? Essentials for a Rupununi outing – ones that I failed to fathom, this time at least. These essentials, as well as others that my party did remember to walk with, such as salt, farine, a pot and a cutlass, seem to be staples any outing from a simple picnic, to a day trip on the river, to camping overnight. I’ve participated in two and will experience the third in a few days, so I should pay attention.
Torchlight – for when the day trip turns into a night trip and you need to see the river’s path – or just your hand in front of your face – to guide the boat back to the landing. For when you are walking up a steep path back to your village, one filled with tree stumps and crevices. Long sleeves and pants – because even though it’s the dry season and the mosquitoes, caboras and sandflies have abated in general, by the water, they are by the thousands and show no mercy. There’ll be no tank tops and shorts on THESE trips to the river. Soap – because it’s more efficient to bathe at the same time you’re swimming, besides, everyone else is doing it. Hammock – because while you’re eating and liming in between fishing, you need a place to lie around. It requires minimal assembly and provides a place to sit off the ground, a place to swing for fun, and a place to take a five... or ten.
All these things and more I learned today because I had the pleasure of accompanying CH and Ashley & family to Simoni for fishing and it was great. “The guys” go to this place for some serious fishing, and I was excited to finally be out on the water, seeing a part of what they do when they go out. The invite to go with them sometime has been open for months, and it was a nice time to cash that invite in since it wasn’t just a guys thing, plus Franzea was going, too. The day was perfect – except I couldn’t catch a fish! Ok, fine, I caught two pirie and one piranha, but I didn’t catch a TRUE “fish.” Lukanani is one of them, it’s THE fish to catch here. It’s what they all come back with each fishing trip, what’s abundant in the waters, and what’s delicious to eat. And, you might say “Oh, you just need practice,” or “Well, you still caught 3 fish!’ but you wouldn’t if you knew how amazingly plentiful Rupununi fishing was like. It’s practically like shooting fish in a barrel – excuse my all-too-fitting analogy. The fish are abundant (in the dry season, at least) and the fishing is simple – lure with 2 4-prong hooks on a line with a spinner – toss out and hold as the boat goes forward at a slow, to medium pace, pulling the line behind it. You feel resistance, pull your line in, letting it gather at your feet. Unhook fish, throw on boat floor and toss out your line again. Repeat a dozen or more times in a few hours, more if you’re lucky, less if you’re me. Sure, Ash did some fly fishing, Cindy used a rod, and the boys did some diving with spear guns, but that’s the basic method of producing mass quantities of fish. Ash’s boat came away with more than 30, and our boat with at least 25. Mostly lukanani, but Juju caught a big tiger fish, and some hooked pirie, which were mostly tossed back – yeah, my fish were tossed back. Anthony caught a basha and there was another weird looking one in the boat, a mangi, too.
No matter how many spots they went to, how many lines they unknotted, checked and did maintenance on for me, a lukanani would not hook itself on the line I was holding. Fernando gave me his good line, with Ashley’s good lure, but nothing. Gah. Though I know we created distractions and were somewhat high maintenance (as well as bad luck, they said), I appreciated the aid and attention from the guys. Franzea was obviously more competent than me, but they all helped us with our lines and things. Then there was reciprocation at “camp,” our base for the day.
Truly the women made our camping back home look like a stay at Holiday Inn. The entire style of the day was basic, yet effective. I noticed this when I went fishing the last time with Franzea on that picnic. With few more items than the ones I’ve mentioned, food and rest was more than adequately provided. Hammocks were hung, a fire was made and means for cooking lunch and then roasting the extra fish were quickly constructed. The river became sink, drinking fountain, rubbish bin, bath and dishwasher all in one. As fish were brought in, they got cleaned and prepared on the water's edge. I even jumped in and gutted some still moving fish! Once they were cleaned and prepared, the fish were carried and placed over the fire on sticks held up with forked sticks in the ground. It was amazing to see such a feast and such an outing come from so few carried supplies.
The outing was enhanced by the unbelievable ambiance surround us. Capuchin monkey pounding a nut against a tree. Herons and cranes. Iguana. River dogs. Caimans 50 feet away. Bad luck birds (I can’t remember their name, but Cindy said they bring bad luck). Sandbanks, winding rivers, sunset on the river, stars on the river...
As I held a plate of farine soaked in fish broth and a cup of cari while the boat bumpily sped home as darkness was fast approaching, I couldn’t help but think “This is the life.” Sure, Juju and Anthony were cleaning the last of the fish in the front of the boat and I probably had fish scales and fish guts flung on my face, but who cares? It’s an experience! How many minutes of how many days do I go around withOUT fish guts on my face? Plenty. How boring, right? Sure, I fell into the river at the drop off where our boats were and was soaked for the windy ride back, but how many times have I experienced that? It’s a story, it’s dynamic, it’s fun! All sorts of things like that really add up to make my experience here great. I seriously appreciate the dynamo of these experiences, it makes me feel alive. If temporary discomfort is part of it, well, that’s ok. And anyway, discomfort is all in the eye of the beholder. I felt pretty darn good and content.
And it occurred to me again today that many people go away to have fun on the river or at the lake or go fishing or bathing or lounging in hammocks. But not me, not my village – it’s our backyard! Mountains, rivers, wildlife, fruits, boating, fishing... it’s all right here. So, even though I did not catch a lukanani, something that vexed me to no end, I’m still able to be pretty happy and thankful, not just about the day, but about my placement here in general.
“Don’t feel no way,” Anthony said several times as I sat, hand holding my line, waiting. And I didn’t.
-Torchlight
-Long sleeves and pants
-Soap
-Hammock (as well as rope)
To what do these items refer? Essentials for a Rupununi outing – ones that I failed to fathom, this time at least. These essentials, as well as others that my party did remember to walk with, such as salt, farine, a pot and a cutlass, seem to be staples any outing from a simple picnic, to a day trip on the river, to camping overnight. I’ve participated in two and will experience the third in a few days, so I should pay attention.
Torchlight – for when the day trip turns into a night trip and you need to see the river’s path – or just your hand in front of your face – to guide the boat back to the landing. For when you are walking up a steep path back to your village, one filled with tree stumps and crevices. Long sleeves and pants – because even though it’s the dry season and the mosquitoes, caboras and sandflies have abated in general, by the water, they are by the thousands and show no mercy. There’ll be no tank tops and shorts on THESE trips to the river. Soap – because it’s more efficient to bathe at the same time you’re swimming, besides, everyone else is doing it. Hammock – because while you’re eating and liming in between fishing, you need a place to lie around. It requires minimal assembly and provides a place to sit off the ground, a place to swing for fun, and a place to take a five... or ten.
All these things and more I learned today because I had the pleasure of accompanying CH and Ashley & family to Simoni for fishing and it was great. “The guys” go to this place for some serious fishing, and I was excited to finally be out on the water, seeing a part of what they do when they go out. The invite to go with them sometime has been open for months, and it was a nice time to cash that invite in since it wasn’t just a guys thing, plus Franzea was going, too. The day was perfect – except I couldn’t catch a fish! Ok, fine, I caught two pirie and one piranha, but I didn’t catch a TRUE “fish.” Lukanani is one of them, it’s THE fish to catch here. It’s what they all come back with each fishing trip, what’s abundant in the waters, and what’s delicious to eat. And, you might say “Oh, you just need practice,” or “Well, you still caught 3 fish!’ but you wouldn’t if you knew how amazingly plentiful Rupununi fishing was like. It’s practically like shooting fish in a barrel – excuse my all-too-fitting analogy. The fish are abundant (in the dry season, at least) and the fishing is simple – lure with 2 4-prong hooks on a line with a spinner – toss out and hold as the boat goes forward at a slow, to medium pace, pulling the line behind it. You feel resistance, pull your line in, letting it gather at your feet. Unhook fish, throw on boat floor and toss out your line again. Repeat a dozen or more times in a few hours, more if you’re lucky, less if you’re me. Sure, Ash did some fly fishing, Cindy used a rod, and the boys did some diving with spear guns, but that’s the basic method of producing mass quantities of fish. Ash’s boat came away with more than 30, and our boat with at least 25. Mostly lukanani, but Juju caught a big tiger fish, and some hooked pirie, which were mostly tossed back – yeah, my fish were tossed back. Anthony caught a basha and there was another weird looking one in the boat, a mangi, too.
No matter how many spots they went to, how many lines they unknotted, checked and did maintenance on for me, a lukanani would not hook itself on the line I was holding. Fernando gave me his good line, with Ashley’s good lure, but nothing. Gah. Though I know we created distractions and were somewhat high maintenance (as well as bad luck, they said), I appreciated the aid and attention from the guys. Franzea was obviously more competent than me, but they all helped us with our lines and things. Then there was reciprocation at “camp,” our base for the day.
Truly the women made our camping back home look like a stay at Holiday Inn. The entire style of the day was basic, yet effective. I noticed this when I went fishing the last time with Franzea on that picnic. With few more items than the ones I’ve mentioned, food and rest was more than adequately provided. Hammocks were hung, a fire was made and means for cooking lunch and then roasting the extra fish were quickly constructed. The river became sink, drinking fountain, rubbish bin, bath and dishwasher all in one. As fish were brought in, they got cleaned and prepared on the water's edge. I even jumped in and gutted some still moving fish! Once they were cleaned and prepared, the fish were carried and placed over the fire on sticks held up with forked sticks in the ground. It was amazing to see such a feast and such an outing come from so few carried supplies.
The outing was enhanced by the unbelievable ambiance surround us. Capuchin monkey pounding a nut against a tree. Herons and cranes. Iguana. River dogs. Caimans 50 feet away. Bad luck birds (I can’t remember their name, but Cindy said they bring bad luck). Sandbanks, winding rivers, sunset on the river, stars on the river...
As I held a plate of farine soaked in fish broth and a cup of cari while the boat bumpily sped home as darkness was fast approaching, I couldn’t help but think “This is the life.” Sure, Juju and Anthony were cleaning the last of the fish in the front of the boat and I probably had fish scales and fish guts flung on my face, but who cares? It’s an experience! How many minutes of how many days do I go around withOUT fish guts on my face? Plenty. How boring, right? Sure, I fell into the river at the drop off where our boats were and was soaked for the windy ride back, but how many times have I experienced that? It’s a story, it’s dynamic, it’s fun! All sorts of things like that really add up to make my experience here great. I seriously appreciate the dynamo of these experiences, it makes me feel alive. If temporary discomfort is part of it, well, that’s ok. And anyway, discomfort is all in the eye of the beholder. I felt pretty darn good and content.
And it occurred to me again today that many people go away to have fun on the river or at the lake or go fishing or bathing or lounging in hammocks. But not me, not my village – it’s our backyard! Mountains, rivers, wildlife, fruits, boating, fishing... it’s all right here. So, even though I did not catch a lukanani, something that vexed me to no end, I’m still able to be pretty happy and thankful, not just about the day, but about my placement here in general.
“Don’t feel no way,” Anthony said several times as I sat, hand holding my line, waiting. And I didn’t.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
One Small Step for Womankind, One Giant Leap for Woman
Pumpkin pie. Roasted chicken. Mashed potatoes and gravy. Rice. Cabbage. Yes, all this and more can be and was on the menu for last Thursday, aka T-day! Thank you, thank you, l'd like to thank my mom and my grandma for showing me what I know in the kitchen - bet you didn't think I had it in me, huh, Ma? And I'd like to thank the CH boys .... or is that "I'd like to blame..."? I dunno, maybe both.
Cooking hasn't been easy here. When you have microwavable things up the wazoo back home, and a simplified interest in food here, it leads to meals that mostly consist of Guyanesed versions of American food, like scrambled eggs and farine, or tuna salad in bake or baked beans with clap roti. I`ve definitely had some culinary moments of pride, some of which I commemorated with pictures. Yup, that veggie fried rice, a stew-like dish, pumpkin curry, different types of noodles, french toast... and then of course, there`s my endeavors into the meat group - preparing and then cooking fish, and once chicken that I declared inedible afterwards. Though admittedly, a lot of what I cook, I don`t feel is fit for the queen, or even our village captain. So I`ve been shy to share my cooking with my Y people, even though they`ve allowed me the opportunity several times.
So I dunno what it was, on Thursday, that actually got me movin and groovin in CH`s kitchen, but move and groove I did. Out of desire for maintaining tradition and trying to bring a little of home to Y, I planned to try to make pumpkin pie. Baking is more of my thing anyway, and I LOVE me some pumpkin pie. So Mr. So-where`s-the-turkey? himself brought back supplies we might need, and on Thursday morning (so I'd have time to start over if I messed up), I started chopping pumpkin (with help). Early on, I realized I needed evaporated, not condensed milk, I didn't know what the round nut things were until someone told me they were nutmeg, and while I was in the process of making this one sort of pan function as a pie pan, an actual glass pie pan appeared out of thin air. The recipes I looked up were American, and functioned on Fahrenheit, but the gas stove at the CH was Celsius, so I had to find a conversion chart. But despite all this, everything went smoothly. The crust worked well, the pumpkin stewed beautifully, and the mixture of spices I used were fun.
One pie was for our weekly teacher's lunch, and another, I was making for after hours at the CH.Yet again, Mr. Turkey (that nickname works on so many different levels, it's great) was requesting turkey, and perhaps out of contentment in doing ok with the pies, I finally agreed to try. And then pumpkin pies turned into pumpkin pies and roasted chicken (obviously, a turkey could not be as easily obtained), and then THAT turned into pumpkin pie, chicken and side dishes - you can't have just chicken for dinner, can you? So I mentally added mashed potatoes and an attempt at gravy to the menu, and Frannie talked about adding fried rice to it, as well. Heck yeah, we've got a feast on our hands!
From 6 til 9, we were in the kitchen, my hands going into uncharted territories with that chicken, and taking off it's neck. With pointers from a fellow volunteer herpetologist, Chris, the chicken was cooked and finished by 9 ish. And the potatoes and gravy from scratch were finished, too. Chris thought, and I agreed, that we needed veggies with the meal, so he steamed some purple cabbage. For the gravy, I heated water, stirred in flour with pepper and salt, then added juices from the chicken and some purple cabbage stock... yup, our gravy was purple - but it totally thickened and tasted good! Frannie's rice came out first, and we started covering and waiting. Thanksgiving dinner, though we hadn't intended it to be, is done around a table, all eating at once, so to me, it was only natural we waited for those who were out on business to come back. I actually was feeling bad the food was taking so long to cook, though we certainly finished before they come back.
They return around 10, and it's not the time they come back that finally propels me into an insanity I think only females can possess, it was the fact that they came in, having already eaten and requesting "just some pie." (You know who you are, and you know this was quite a ballsy move on your part.) At first, I said ok, but then I began to get frustrated; I cooked a meal, one that you, joking or not, requested and knew was coming. Here I am, busting my novice ass off, and creating what was NOT a disaster of a meal, and it was gonna be demoted to "tomorrow's food"?
I am proud to say I had the guts to insist a small portion of food was served and tried. Thank you, boys, for accepting orders slightly humbly. Only slightly, though. I had to learn to compromise, too, and throw my fantasy of a meal around the table out the window. Still, though, as we sat on couches with plates on our lap at 10:30 Thursday night, and I had a forkful of mashed potatoes, purple gravy and a piece of roasted chicken, it felt and tasted like Thanksgiving, and it tickled me beyond belief. To not even be expecting Thanksgiving dinner, let alone be the one to cook one (of course, with the help of two great co-chefs), but be eating it in the middle of the Rupununi with some of my favorite people was pretty damn cool.
I finally got a taste of my pumpkin pies, and while they weren't my grandmas' they definitely contained the essence of pumpkin pie. I even got to pick at the chicken bones, and go for a small second of pie later. Pretty damn cool, people, pretty damn cool. And I gotta say, I didn't miss home too much on Thursday. Seriously, just knowing that THEY were enjoying a Thanksgiving meal, even if I couldn't enjoy it myself, was satisfying. The only thing I truly missed was the wine with the meal (and the preparations... and after the meal....)
Cooking hasn't been easy here. When you have microwavable things up the wazoo back home, and a simplified interest in food here, it leads to meals that mostly consist of Guyanesed versions of American food, like scrambled eggs and farine, or tuna salad in bake or baked beans with clap roti. I`ve definitely had some culinary moments of pride, some of which I commemorated with pictures. Yup, that veggie fried rice, a stew-like dish, pumpkin curry, different types of noodles, french toast... and then of course, there`s my endeavors into the meat group - preparing and then cooking fish, and once chicken that I declared inedible afterwards. Though admittedly, a lot of what I cook, I don`t feel is fit for the queen, or even our village captain. So I`ve been shy to share my cooking with my Y people, even though they`ve allowed me the opportunity several times.
So I dunno what it was, on Thursday, that actually got me movin and groovin in CH`s kitchen, but move and groove I did. Out of desire for maintaining tradition and trying to bring a little of home to Y, I planned to try to make pumpkin pie. Baking is more of my thing anyway, and I LOVE me some pumpkin pie. So Mr. So-where`s-the-turkey? himself brought back supplies we might need, and on Thursday morning (so I'd have time to start over if I messed up), I started chopping pumpkin (with help). Early on, I realized I needed evaporated, not condensed milk, I didn't know what the round nut things were until someone told me they were nutmeg, and while I was in the process of making this one sort of pan function as a pie pan, an actual glass pie pan appeared out of thin air. The recipes I looked up were American, and functioned on Fahrenheit, but the gas stove at the CH was Celsius, so I had to find a conversion chart. But despite all this, everything went smoothly. The crust worked well, the pumpkin stewed beautifully, and the mixture of spices I used were fun.
One pie was for our weekly teacher's lunch, and another, I was making for after hours at the CH.Yet again, Mr. Turkey (that nickname works on so many different levels, it's great) was requesting turkey, and perhaps out of contentment in doing ok with the pies, I finally agreed to try. And then pumpkin pies turned into pumpkin pies and roasted chicken (obviously, a turkey could not be as easily obtained), and then THAT turned into pumpkin pie, chicken and side dishes - you can't have just chicken for dinner, can you? So I mentally added mashed potatoes and an attempt at gravy to the menu, and Frannie talked about adding fried rice to it, as well. Heck yeah, we've got a feast on our hands!
From 6 til 9, we were in the kitchen, my hands going into uncharted territories with that chicken, and taking off it's neck. With pointers from a fellow volunteer herpetologist, Chris, the chicken was cooked and finished by 9 ish. And the potatoes and gravy from scratch were finished, too. Chris thought, and I agreed, that we needed veggies with the meal, so he steamed some purple cabbage. For the gravy, I heated water, stirred in flour with pepper and salt, then added juices from the chicken and some purple cabbage stock... yup, our gravy was purple - but it totally thickened and tasted good! Frannie's rice came out first, and we started covering and waiting. Thanksgiving dinner, though we hadn't intended it to be, is done around a table, all eating at once, so to me, it was only natural we waited for those who were out on business to come back. I actually was feeling bad the food was taking so long to cook, though we certainly finished before they come back.
They return around 10, and it's not the time they come back that finally propels me into an insanity I think only females can possess, it was the fact that they came in, having already eaten and requesting "just some pie." (You know who you are, and you know this was quite a ballsy move on your part.) At first, I said ok, but then I began to get frustrated; I cooked a meal, one that you, joking or not, requested and knew was coming. Here I am, busting my novice ass off, and creating what was NOT a disaster of a meal, and it was gonna be demoted to "tomorrow's food"?
I am proud to say I had the guts to insist a small portion of food was served and tried. Thank you, boys, for accepting orders slightly humbly. Only slightly, though. I had to learn to compromise, too, and throw my fantasy of a meal around the table out the window. Still, though, as we sat on couches with plates on our lap at 10:30 Thursday night, and I had a forkful of mashed potatoes, purple gravy and a piece of roasted chicken, it felt and tasted like Thanksgiving, and it tickled me beyond belief. To not even be expecting Thanksgiving dinner, let alone be the one to cook one (of course, with the help of two great co-chefs), but be eating it in the middle of the Rupununi with some of my favorite people was pretty damn cool.
I finally got a taste of my pumpkin pies, and while they weren't my grandmas' they definitely contained the essence of pumpkin pie. I even got to pick at the chicken bones, and go for a small second of pie later. Pretty damn cool, people, pretty damn cool. And I gotta say, I didn't miss home too much on Thursday. Seriously, just knowing that THEY were enjoying a Thanksgiving meal, even if I couldn't enjoy it myself, was satisfying. The only thing I truly missed was the wine with the meal (and the preparations... and after the meal....)
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