Integration, Matrimony Style

I was just trying to be helpful. Chase still slept as I decided to make coffee. He graciously gave of his house to me as I came in to attend Beth’s wedding (PCV meets Buck Man, one year later, they marry; what a story), and I wanted to show my appreciation. I located the necessary items and set that thing brewing. Chase woke up as I was finding the milk and looking for the sugar. He expressed his thanks, but then asked, “Did you have enough water?” My initial thought is, “Of course, I didn’t think there were shortage issues in Town.” But then – OOOH; in Town, one buys 5 gallon bottles of water to drink and cook with; the tap stuff could melt a toothbrush, or so I hear. By me, clear, clean well water is pumped through my pipes, which I can enjoy (when the pipes are on, at least.)

I sheepishly admit to my faux paux. He kindly waves it off and goes to buy a new jug, saying we’ll try again, and I could be helpful by making the PB and banana toast. I offer to get the bread sliced just as soon as he tells me where it is. “This is Town, Sarah, our bread is already sliced,” he informs me. Oh. Where I come from, it’s straight from the mud-brick oven. I go in the search for the butter – optional on PB toast, I recognize, but I thought I’d be “helpful” and put it out anyway. Despite my best efforts, I could not find it; I even looked in the cupboards with the cleaning supplies. He comes back and goes to put the pre-sliced bread back into his fridge when I look – and there’s the butter! Oh yeah, butter goes in the fridge; I’d forgotten.

Chase, Demond, Nick, Shaniece, DeAnna, Katrina, Morgan and I arrived in Moraikobai after dark on Friday. We were all dirty from travel by bus, boat and Bedford truck, and some were ready to bathe. Nick asks if it’s fine to bathe in the river at night. Beth assures us that it is. He and I are the only ones, apparently, who are keen to clean ourselves that way. All troop down to the dock to watch, however, as Nick and I jump in and soap down. We whisper between ourselves, “Must be a Region 9 thing.” Beth later makes a similar comment, noting how isolated people seem to be more enthusiastic about those sorts of things. She, too, bathes there along with the rest of the village. We went back to the Rest House for a bachelorette party, Guyana style (complete with the game “Stump the Embassy” and a suprise male dancer clothed in life vests), but all of these incidences compelled me to begin reflecting on some fundamental differences between Town life (whether that be GT, New Amsterdam in Region 6 or Kansas City, Mo.) and Bush life.

Beth’s wedding and village were a beautiful combination of cultures. Her community, surrounded by palm trees, white sand and Coca-Cola water, welcomed us and it’s easy to see why Beth feels so at home there. Thought it’s a two-way street, the village is willing, but so must the volunteer be. Upon learning she was marrying one of their “Buck men,” one couldn’t doubt her willingness, but it’s certainly more than that.

For her Big Day, Beth gave herself over to her community. She allowed them to impress upon her their traditions - they clothed her, jeweled her, and beautified her, all without her seeing herself, for example. “How do I look?” she asked me when I went to check on her (she was attended by all her 6 bridesmaids, village godmother, and stylist - no foreign faces, except Chase’s – the photographer – and my own). I was surprised to see such heavy lines of lip liner on her face as well as eyebrows. This was not the Beth I knew. I bit my tongue, not sure what to say. It’s not how I’d makeup her, but that doesn’t mean it’s not ok. Her attendants proclaimed her ok and beautiful, so who was I to argue? I told myself Beth knows her community, knows what she’s marrying into and has willingly handed over her trust to these ladies. She was sharing her Day with them. “I just have to trust,” the bride said. “Do you think you could do it?” “No!” I answered. (Luckily) her MOH, I think, came in and suggested a more tame lipstick. She looked the blushing bride as Chase took her pictures. Someone pinned a G note ($5USD) on the front of her dress, a tradition we never fully figured out its purpose, and she was veiled. Her father, Craig, who flew out for the event (the only person from her family), escorted her from the “staging area” to the Real Ting.

In the church, one of the scriptures read was from Genesis, noting when Isaac takes a wife, Rebecca – a foreigner. The pastor notes how Rebecca came from a different culture, did not know her groom or his culture, but their marriage endured. A sweet comparison. The couple exchanged vows (Ken kept gazing adoringly at his bride, though she shyly kept looking down), then the rings and, with a few interruptions from Grandma Crazy and a fellow who had one too many calabash bowls of paiwari (though what Amerindian event is complete without one?) the two - American and Amerindian, man and wife - were married.

The village had spent the morning and afternoon cooking a feast of barbecue chicken, beef curry, dhal puri, fried rice, lo mein and other meats and noodles, not to mention paiwari. All were kind enough to allow us to watch, take pictures and “help” – not to mention, sample the paiwari.

After several speeches, American tradition played out with cutting the cake and sharing a drink. We ate the delectable dinner then waited for the music to start up for a proper party. The Macarena came on at one point, and all us Americans enthusiastically got into it, but while the Moraikobaians grooved to it, didn’t they seem to know the moves. That didn’t seem to stop them; they partied on ‘til at least 4 a.m., taking advantage of the extended current. (Beth’s community has power only from 6 to 10 p.m., usually). The next morning our boatman was right on time as we prepared to leave, a water coconut our departing Moraikobai treat. We all left, in good spirits, glad we had come on a fun weekend trip, glad to support our fellow PCV in her even more adventurous journey through PC.

In my PC service, I’ve learned that Integration is a double-edged sword. For some, becoming intimate with their village/community is more hard, either because the community is too closed, or the PCV is. But then for others, they can blend in so much with their community, one is hard-pressed to pick them out in a Guyanese line up. The transformations some PCV/G’s have made has been enchanting to watch. I’ve wondered if those more isolated have a greater tendency to do so, and why that is. Perhaps it’s simply a survival instinct, maybe it’s just a beautiful thing... Or maybe, those isolated PCVs sort of just go Bush Crazy, who knows? There is a word of caution to these kinds of volunteers – kindly don’t forget where you came from or what your PC mission is – but it sure is a beautiful process to watch.

We all wish Beth the best in her marriage. As I said in my toast to them, we in PC have a more adventurous spirit than most, all of us are open to meeting new people and jumping feet first into new experiences, right? All of us will integrate differently into our communities, all of us will enjoy our communities and PC services on varying levels, but we all can equally support one of our peers as she has found her life partner here in Guyana. We know that she is no more leaving her American culture as Ken is leaving his Amerindian one. It is the joining of the two that is most special. Just as I would wish them a balanced, happy life together, so would I wish the rest of the PCVs a balanced, happy PC service, never forgetting where they’ve come from, nor where they’re going.