As I sit at the Buckney "restaurant" in my village, eating delicious fish curry with rice and the crunchiest farine ever, drinking lime juice, anticipating a batch of fish cakes later, and gaffing with my friend/co-worker about working together in my garden, it starts to rain, as it has been doing steadily for a couple weeks now. I breathe in, and smile, content and so happy to be where I am and do what I'm doing.
A far cry from where I was on Friday, no?
Since those dark morning hours of Friday, much has happened.
-A nighttime bike ride through the savanna to a party a couple miles away. Full moon, a bike without breaks and a bicyclist who hasn't ridden in years following her trusted friend who chivalrously offered to ride the bike that was missing a pedal. Lovely adventure.
-A heart-to-heart with that friend; it may be the first conversation I've had with someone here where I felt I could be completely open with thoughts and feelings. This was done in the middle of the savanna under the full moon while propping up the bikes. Lovely bonding time.
-Burnt finger and thumbtips. Sorry, story not included.
-A game of Rat Slap that began on Saturday and has yet to end. (Both of us are still carrying around our cards). We turned it into a drinking game, it worked well; I've never laughed so hard at cards. For anyone who's interested, we said whoever throws an Ace down, the next person has to take a drink before their 4 chances to put down a face card. Ace, because there's a greater chance they'll change hands, therefore mixing up who has to drink.
-Being smelled (I hope I was pleasing to the nostrils).
-Getting impaled by an arrow by a trusted friend. I have a puncture wound. Mr. Joe Canada thought he'd have fun with a decorative, miniature bow and arrow set lying around CH. So all I know is, I look up to see Mike pointing and releasing it, next thing I know, a foot-long arrow with a 2 inch cow bone arrow is stuck in my arm. As far as injuries and illnesses go so far, it sure beats lice, but wow. Contemplated forms of revenge include a staple gun to the tush, but it's still up in the air.
-My first in tandem hammock relax. Sassy.
-Cooking a healthy amount of fried farine for the boys and guests and succeeding.
-Had a good time with an interesting guy in a completely pressure-free, open environment. Pleasant. I'm still trying to figure out the Rupununi Men; slowly, but surely. Or not at all, whichever.
The kinds of things that makes Friday just a tiny footnote on this epic journey. Granted, the issues are still there, needing to be dealt with; just times like this weekend make the issues easier to handle, and more worth it.
Balance, balance.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Friday, January 9, 2009
There's no use crying over missing paste... or is there?
I'm at my wit's end. This post is neither well-constructed or well-orchestrated, it is born out of my frustration and need to throw some questions out to the universe, as well as voice some problems I have with my location, and problems that my location has with itself.
There are no givens here; here today, gone tomorrow seems the most fitting phrase. I first encountered this with the library books, but it's not just them. You put a pencil down, you're pretty much guaranteed it won't be there when you reach for it again. How can any progress be made? How can anything get done when you can't even gather or count on the basics?
For three or more days now, we've tried to continue cleaning and repairing the books in the school, but have been stunted by lack of tape and erasers. Each time new supplies were brought in, they dissappeared again, sometimes within hours. This morning, as we try to conclude with rallied supplies, we are distracted by missing paste this time, as well as talk of the latest break into the school cafeteria. School boys, probably, under the influence of kari, no doubt. When pens can disappear with the wind, and books can be torn to shreds and not noticed...
They are only hurting themselves! Don't they realize that?
CH has been infiltrated several times, as well. And its not like CH is hoarding the wealth - ask and you shall receive is their general attitude. Because of the high frequency of bodies in the compound, nothing is static, there're no universals. I sort of tend to hold the CH to a higher standard than the village, because of its wealth of influence and experience and motivation and ambition, so not even having this place be something to rely on.... to set an example....
Where is my.... THEIR anchor? Where is my... THEIR discipline? Where is my... THEIR guidance? And GUIDANCE, mind you, not dictation. I now realize this has been part of what has made this week so trying. Big ideas, over-emphasized creativity and lack of concern over structure rule this place, as well as a "guiding" figure who seems to "enthusiastically shepherd" the numerous activities, even from afar. Overstimulation, on several levels. And lack of ownership. There is nothing wrong with big ideas, creativity or bending of the rules, but as a visiting fellow volunteer pointed out, "Sure, you can say you're going to have a free form garden with no supervision, but sooner or later, weeds are going to come, and there'll be no garden to tend to." (more or less)
So should we shrug off the missing bottle of paste and just get a new one to replace it? "Don't worry; be happy"? Or should we cry over missing paste?
I'm crying.
There are no givens here; here today, gone tomorrow seems the most fitting phrase. I first encountered this with the library books, but it's not just them. You put a pencil down, you're pretty much guaranteed it won't be there when you reach for it again. How can any progress be made? How can anything get done when you can't even gather or count on the basics?
For three or more days now, we've tried to continue cleaning and repairing the books in the school, but have been stunted by lack of tape and erasers. Each time new supplies were brought in, they dissappeared again, sometimes within hours. This morning, as we try to conclude with rallied supplies, we are distracted by missing paste this time, as well as talk of the latest break into the school cafeteria. School boys, probably, under the influence of kari, no doubt. When pens can disappear with the wind, and books can be torn to shreds and not noticed...
They are only hurting themselves! Don't they realize that?
CH has been infiltrated several times, as well. And its not like CH is hoarding the wealth - ask and you shall receive is their general attitude. Because of the high frequency of bodies in the compound, nothing is static, there're no universals. I sort of tend to hold the CH to a higher standard than the village, because of its wealth of influence and experience and motivation and ambition, so not even having this place be something to rely on.... to set an example....
Where is my.... THEIR anchor? Where is my... THEIR discipline? Where is my... THEIR guidance? And GUIDANCE, mind you, not dictation. I now realize this has been part of what has made this week so trying. Big ideas, over-emphasized creativity and lack of concern over structure rule this place, as well as a "guiding" figure who seems to "enthusiastically shepherd" the numerous activities, even from afar. Overstimulation, on several levels. And lack of ownership. There is nothing wrong with big ideas, creativity or bending of the rules, but as a visiting fellow volunteer pointed out, "Sure, you can say you're going to have a free form garden with no supervision, but sooner or later, weeds are going to come, and there'll be no garden to tend to." (more or less)
So should we shrug off the missing bottle of paste and just get a new one to replace it? "Don't worry; be happy"? Or should we cry over missing paste?
I'm crying.
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