Christmas in January

Christmas passed in a quiet way. Some parts were harder than last year, some parts were better. It was harder because I had higher expectations of enjoying myself which did not come to fruit. It was easier because I only managed a slight cold instead of lice, like last year. It was better because I made a decision and stuck with it to spend my New Years with CH buddies down south at a place called Saddle Mountain, and I actually enjoyed myself, too. Spent it as I imagined a young single adult would. Houseful of different people, sleeping in a hammock, bathing at the creek, cooking and eating in mass quantities, dancing up and a nice countdown to 2010.

But the spirit of the Holidays actually hit this month, with a few different instances:

Three Christmas packages obtained Wednesday the 13th from Home, Devon and Uncle Steve. Dev had a bunch of little things wrapped in Christmas paper - I loved it. I swear I could smell Devon in the wrapping paper. Uncle Steve sent tiny tree ornaments, a stocking and candy canes. Can't wait 'til next year to get a makeshift tree and trim that tropical bad boy! He also sent tons of books, some old ones he had, one in particular, a book that Mom and Dad had given him. I knew this because Dad had written an inscription on the inside cover, with the year. Mom and Dad sent a tin of holiday chocolate covered pretzels and a bag of Hershey's kisses. <3

Aunt Lisa posted pics on Facebook of Christmas Eve at Nana and Papa's. I'll say it again: My family is Beautiful. I drank you all in, from your smiles, to your poses, to my dad's swishy pants, even to Nana's microwave buttons. I sat in the library last Thursday morning with tears in my eyes as I perused the pics. THERE was my Holiday spirit. Goodness.

Tonight - Peanut Butter cookies with kisses in the middle! Ay ay ay!!!!!

My dissected Christmas has come to a close, and I feel at peace.

To Dance

The Rupununi makes me dance. The night air makes me dance. The sense of freedom makes me dance.

Or perhaps, to dance gives me the sensation of literal freedom.

To dance is to sing. To dance is to express. To dance is locution.


Chase truly is a kindred spirit. The parallels we've discovered within our lives are too great to NOT be kindred spirits. Just one example - dancing.

He's found his way into a few of my blogs so far, but you'll remember a blog I wrote a few months back about dancing. He has recently posted one about dancing, as well. I'm not sure his 'story' of dancing, but mine, as I've written, has just come to fruit here in Guyana. It's something that we both revel. I've had the pleasure of watching him dance as well as dancing with him - he's quite zesty.

As our experiences as PCV's and developing beings run different, yet parallel courses, Chase has incorporated some of our interchanges into his recent blogs, and I am going to do the same here. In his blog about dancing, he writes:


"To dance is to be free. To dance is to praise. To dance is to be.

Where makes you dance? What? To dance is to?

I dance for so many reasons. Guyana makes me dance. Everything makes sense again, especially after it rained. Dance."


The start to this blog was my response. And now I turn the questions Chase has brought forth to you: What makes you dance? To dance is to...?

Today's Testimonies

-Extreme excitement over a bagful of beef: one of the gifts PC service has given me.

I hear a cow was slaughtered; my senses perk up, I'm on high alert - BEEF! I've turned utter carnivore in the past year and a half. Stews, salted, fried, you name it, I eat it - and cook it - as often as possible. So, I go by Shamir's, and hover. Get the first pound or two, a generous gift from Hamzad, greatly relished. He asks if I'd like to buy more, I say yes and he tells me i'm gonna buy whatever he cuts; a huge chunk cut, 5 pounds - sure, why not? Good to go. Pay for it, turn to leave, and am given a nice chunk of liver, another kind gesture from Aunt Orcilla, Ivy's sister. A Wal-Mart sized bag filled to the brim with cow parts and I am smiling. Fried liver, beef stew and tasso for the next month or so.

-Only a true friend would, with no hesitation, grab your foot and dig around for and extract a sac of tiny worms bigger than a BB, aka a chigga, out of your toe.

So, around New Year's time, as I was trekking around down South, I felt a minor irritation on my toe and the next day saw a black spot. Figured it was a pimp-le, no biggie, and since it didn't hurt, I figured I'd get to it later. Never bothered me, but I'd look at it from time to time. The black spot spread white around it and I'd idly try to burst it, but not too hard. As I was trying just that this afternoon, Franzea looks at it and exclaims I have a chigga. A chigga! I've heard of them, I've seen the after-effects (gaping holes) and I've even dug a small one out of Shamir, but I've yet to have my own! (They're little worms you get from playing in the sand down here. They'll grow and grow in a sac until you pick them out.) "Want me to pick it out?" Frannie asks. Sure! She gets a needle and starts digging and tearing, quite efficiently. "I want to take it out whole," she says. Sure, that's cool, whatever. I'm gaffing around, not really paying attention as my foot rests in her lap and she works. She gets my attention and I look down and see this huge white ball protruding from my toe! "DUDE! OMG." Seriously, it's bigger than a BB. Frannie works it out and there it is, one black spot --- on a globe of white. I have a crater on the top of my toe. How weirdly cool.

-Juno or Kai?

Names for the new puppy. Yep, spur of the moment thing. Lucy got one, and I decided I wanted one, too. These are from one of Junita's dogs. They're probably around 5 weeks old; I have a girl and Lucy has a boy. Adorable. I'm hoping this goes better than Ari (may she RIP). The gal already has a brother for company and the mothering attention of Lucy working for her; I'm cautiously optimistic. Gotta love puppies. <3

A New Perspective

Quiet time. I seem to be getting less of it lately – but also appreciating it more when I do and finding it in different ways. Like lying in bed after waking up just now. And going to lime by Hamzad them yesterday after the long day in the library. I’ve come to appreciate the mornings before Jess has got up and I have my hammock to myself and read and have breakfast.

Jess always asking questions and tossing out ideas had kept me more alert and reflective – in a good way. I’m realizing how comfortable I’ve become here, how I’ve formed opinions of tendencies here and how I’ve responded to those tendencies. I’m wondering if Jess sees me the way I sorta saw Mike at first – a little to apathetic to “the issues.” I eventually realized that I mistook being well-worn for apathy, and then thought he should just try harder, though I finally understood that he’s just being realistic in regards to how life here is and how he could change things.

A four year old drinking cari, for example. Back in October or so, last year, he laughingly commented “Only in the Rupununi can you ask a four year old how the cari is and have them answer ‘strong.’” I was appalled to hear of a young child drinking an alcoholic drink and put out by Mike’s amusement at it. Shouldn’t he see it as a grave matter? Shouldn’t he discourage the behavior? Shouldn’t he educate that kid’s parents about the issues of alcohol? The answer I’ve come to learn is “Yes,” or “maybe”… but, ultimately, “no.” He can’t, shouldn’t and doesn’t tackle each issue here. No one person CAN, plus, it doesn’t work like that – you don’t go around, handing out nuggets of information that all can and will instantaneously cash in on and the world will be a better place. And accepting this doesn’t mean one has given up – just grown more realistic and therefore (potentially) more effective.

Still, though, Mike (and now myself) shouldn’t always be so complacent with the facts; occasional renewed efforts, different perspectives, techniques an then persistence should produce greater results and maintain more mental sanity – to some degree. “I’m gonna get you to care a little big more, and you’ll get me to care a little bit less,” I told Fernando a year ago. Same applies now, only I’m on the other side, sort of.

Balance. New blood combined with veteran knowledge. Balance.

Today's Reflections

I sent this in an email to mom, dad and some others, but after re-reading it, I figured it made a good blog, as well as a venue for my news:

I've decided officially to stay in Peace Corps, Guyana, Region 9, Yup., K. House for a third year.

Can I do it? Should I do it? These are my reflections today, ones that circle around my choice to stay:

At the moment, I'm not ok, but I'm working on being ok, which is ok in itself, right? It's funny, I have a feeling of sadness and fatigue, but also a feeling of calm, that is wonderful. I love when this happens. It allows me to pull forth and employ hidden depths of strength, intermittently.

There is something so therapeutic about singing with kids; I greatly love it. It calms me, it lifts my spirits, it gets me rejoicing. I sometimes feel as if I'm working with them to help me more than to help them.

I am looking into my loan info, an act that makes me feel quite mature. I think I have a handle on it, know how to get them under control for the upcoming third year. Taking this definitive action for a third year is empowering and I'm pleased with the concrete decision I consciously made - as opposed to letting time or opinion/suggestion of others lead me to accepting whatever plan. (Thank you, Mom.) It's also neat to have a plan to depend on for the future, to work with/around. Of course, plans change, but I am aware of external forces happening, and I am open to that. I at least have the force to take a step in my direction of choice first, as opposed to being pulled, pushed, floating whichever pell mell (seemingly) random way. I also recognize that I may change my mind, though I find that doubtful. But if so, that's ok, too, as it reflects a conscious, active control over my person (one I don't always feel). So I fully support the changing of my mind, if that's where I want to go.

Change is coming today, with this new volunteer here for 6 months. I was fearful and put out by it around two weeks back, but now I welcome the change and view it as necessary. I think it was time for a change. Things were getting stale and I was unable to overcome that on my own. It's a new beginning, for sure, though; I am leaving behind the 1.5 years of solidarity here, in K. House, and as a volunteer. I'll miss the alone time, but on the other hand, I think I need to interact with humans more; this New Year's trip to Saddle Mountain was a good exercise in just that. I even found I enjoyed it and did ok enough with it. Time for a change. I'm glad I'm ok with that.

Last thing: Don't clean a fish while intoxicated on any medium to high level. I'm sporting some cuts/scrapes on my hands this morning. As well as scales ALL over my kitchen. It really is an outside activity. Lesson learned. (But the meal was good, and the rice wine, while potent, made me proud. One last hurrah while the house was solely 'mine.')