Mark Malcom

"Marco, MarcO!"

Enough people call to Mark during the day and afternoon, I hear it all the time. Mark is with Lucy, they're my closest neighbors, geographically and personally. They are from Parishara, though Lucy teaches Nursery School here in Yups, and they stay in the dilapidated teacher's quarters right next to my house.

Lucy is quite an active woman. She's curious and playful and has a sparkle in her eye at all times. And, of course, she's working full time. If one didn't look close enough, you could swear that Lucy 'wears the pants' in the relationship.

There ARE mild jokes about such; Lucy being the one with steady work and therefore uprooting the couple for it, they're both of personalities that suggests she pulls Mark along with her fancies. People tease, calling Mark "Mr. Andrew," which is Lucy's surname.

The two aren't married. They've been together for 23 years, though, and have children. Their youngest, Anthony, is in secondary school in St. Ignatius and is a spitting image of Mark. I would say that the two are in an even more caring relationship than some of the married couples down here. They enjoy each other, and openly demonstrate so. They do things together, not just basic living tasks, but things like dancing the night away and sitting in hammocks, reading or looking at magazines.

Mark is taciturn, unlike Lucy, but he's just as witty and alert and busy. He finds ways to earn money, whether it be through CH or contractors or going out to do logging or mining. When he's not earning money, he keeps busy during the day, whether it be engaged in 'manly' activities of fishing, repairing bikes or carpentry, or more 'domestic' activities of cleaning, cooking, or being attentive to his dogs; it's really obvious he loves his dogs - Kai, too.

Mark and Lucy's house is snug. Although it's about ready to fall down and is only a house they stay in temporarily, it somehow evokes a feeling of happiness and things as they should be. Both keep the place as spotless as possible, all objects on and in the house are kept working well. Mark has made lights out of old flashlight bits and old batteries, he's built stools for the house, has a place to hang saltfish or tasso, has his seine (fishing net) that he keeps immaculate. The shelves above the two burner stove has a jar of pepper sauce, a bottle of casareep and a plastic container of salt, that's about it. They have little here, but what they have is cared for, and found pleasure in.

As I pass Mark through the village during the day, he shyly calls to me "All right, Miss Sarah." When Lucy comes into the house and plays cards with us, he stays at home. He's always fixed my bicycle and done other repairs on my things or the house, mostly with Lucy's instruction, but he does it in such a way that makes it seem like he was waiting for Lucy to tell him to do it, or for me to ask, so he could do it.

When other men here would sit around, liming and/or drinking, during the entire day, and let the dishes be dirty or the let the laundry be, or let things fall and remain in disrepair, Mark does not. He certainly limes with men, just not excessively. Their household would be quite scant if he did not as actively tend to it as needed, because Lucy is a busy professional woman during the day, unlike most of the ladies down here. Mark does not act like he's bothered by teases about his and Lucy's relationship. In fact, the two seem to be blissfully ignorant to it, and good-natured and polite to whoever they encounter. Mark's as gentle as a lamb, though I know he would protect me from whatever I may need protecting from. Lucy is as cheerful as one could be, but has shown me how to ignore and passive aggressively deal with bothersome men. They both look out for and look after me quite well, and seem to respect my privacy when it comes to non-village activities at my house.

The two are virtuous, but not religious. Amerindian, but not strictly Makushi or Wapishana (Lucy grew up speaking Portuguese). Up with modernity, but still traditional. Happy and confident, but not overly demonstrative or attention-seeking. Different, yet the same.

Mark lets Lucy be her different, spunky, assertive, special self, and in doing so, lets loose his own special side. In a world of certain gender roles down here, that's quite a feat.

Mark Malcolm is a humble, good-natured, good man and I am glad to know him. I hope I can somehow express this to him, eventually.

"I used to think that if I cared about one thing, I'd have to care about everything." - Prince Henry, Ever After

"Hai! Go long!" I shout to a mangy-looking, emaciated, nursing, flaccid-bottomed dog. She's seen and smelled the bowl of dry dog food my dog, Kai, has abandoned. She's hung around for the past week; Kai plays with her, sometimes.

Kai has had the taste of hot meals, ones of fish heads and chow mein, of chicken fat and rice, of beef bones and farine, and does not like the dry food.

The mangy dog does not immediately shy away, as many of the cowed dogs do here, but neither does she desperately inch closer to the bowl to take a pilfered bite then fly out. As I get up out of my chair and make medium-strength sounds of dismissal, she walks, slowly and sadly to my gate. I close the latch behind her.

I realize she's just a nursing mom, looking for some sustenance for herself and possibly pups. But I treat her as I treat all dogs that aren't my own - with ostracism.

"Maybe I should let her have Kai's discarded breakfast; Kai should learn that she needs to eat what's in front of her - there's other dogs who aren't as lucky.

"Maybe I should let her eat the food; Kai is certainly in the position to miss a meal, and this dog may not have had a decent meal in awhile.

"But - what about the next meal? Can I provide the next one, when she comes back for more?

"But - what about the other dogs in need? Can I feed them as well?

"If I say yes now, I'll have to say yes next time.

"If I say yes now, it'll be harder to say no the next time.

"If I say yes now, they'll feel they can come again, expecting the same.

"Better not to help at all."

I keep the gate closed, and ignore the mangy-looking, emaciated, nursing, flaccid-bottomed dog, just as I do all the rest.

The Third Year

Is there some particular reason this third year is seeming to be the most difficult year of all? The busiest?

I look after CH, feeding animals, directing the cleaning girls, locating borrowed materials. I lead the library in its week's activities, organizing story times, planning for After School Program, fitting in our volunteer's contributions and dealing with personnel issues. I head up a comprehension tutoring session held thrice a week for Grade 6, planning lessons, grading exercises, noting progress, collaborating with the HM and class teacher. I read chapter books to different kids and groups of kids, I ask them comprehension questions, we discuss vocabulary, we write sentences about the stories, we share in the reading responsibilities. I assert my desires with my friends, I invite them over for an evening meal and liming with things prepared, I joke with them, I call them out on their lapses, I disengage more quickly than before, leaving them be. I don't take as much crap - not from friends, not from co-workers, not from students, not from bothersome men.

What was it about my visit home that's made me so much more authoritative, directive.... directed? "You've changed," was something said of me by two different people.

I heard that same thing from my American friends and family during my visit home, but it was interesting to hear it from my Guyanese friends, too. Two years of one new experience seems enough to influence a person, but is 40 days at home enough, as well?

I came back to Guyana with new clothes, no glasses on my face, make up instead. I came back with different gifts, new stories to share, a more finite direction in my life, one after this experience. I came back with a full dose of love from the US, a whole dose of encouragement, a whole dose of contentment of being myself - which I am now asserting - more than I ever did before here. This must be what the "You've changed" is about.

Part of me thinks "Well, thank heavens someone has changed, Lord knows change is necessary within developing countries!" My impatience for the same old hook ups has increased, my tolerance for lack of gumption is wavering. My ability/tendency to keep trying the same thing in the same ways and getting the same results is waning.

Alice was removed from the country. Unofficially deported back to the States. That Saturday, a few weeks ago, was disturbing; the implications of developing a country very bold and important. And the effects of her absence were immediately noted; I found myself averse to these changes. She was the kick in the pants that this place needed, albeit a strong, pestering and relentless one.

I wasn't here for the last time she was removed from the country, but I arrived to see it's lasting effects, and it seems like the potential for backsliding again this time is strong. No one can say that Yups is lacking for support and inspiration and materials. But you can only lead a horse to water... I am no longer trying to force them to drink.

There was something about my visit home, and Alice's removal, that made the gap between complaints/"should do's" and "Well, do it's" smaller. I find myself being even more vocal/direct with my plans and requests. There is a list of imperatives, and while I cannot hold the same list as Alice did, I can try to keep the same spirit alive. The librarians and frequent library limers are being kept quite busy within the library; our temporary volunteers are being monitored and guided on their volunteering experience. My friends are getting a blast of impatience for the extreme "Hakunah Matata" vibe they put off.

Limitations are being recognized and certain ideas or events scrapped, before an attempt and fail can mar everyone's spirits - or perhaps just my own. I'm finding myself to be a more vibrant personality, succeeding at being what people need down here, and for that, I am proud. Proud to have realized that progress is never finished, and even though there is no concrete end, that's no reason to step back and let progress progress on it's own. Proud to realize that being a complimentative entity for my first two years and now a dynamic entity for my last year is how I can best leave Yupukari, best to prepare them for the years and progress to come.

I am proud to fill that needed role here, and willing to do so for this next year. My only qualm is: Am I being what/who I need me to be, too?

Vices

Per dictionary.com, some of the defs for 'vice' are: 1. an immoral or evil habit or practice, 5. a fault, defect or shortcoming, 7. a bad habit, as in a horse.

Wikipedia.org cites Christianity's beliefs on vices:

Christians believe there are two kinds of vice:
Vices that come from the physical organism as perverse instincts (such as lust)
Vices that come from false idolatry in the spiritual realm

The first kind of vice, though sinful, is believed less serious than the second. Vices recognized as spiritual by Christians include blasphemy (holiness betrayed), apostasy (faith betrayed), despair (hope betrayed), hatred (love betrayed), and indifference (scripturally, a "hardened heart"). Christian theologians have reasoned that the most destructive vice equates to a certain type of pride or the complete idolatry of the self. It is argued that through this vice, which is essentially competitive, all the worst evils come into being. In Judeo-Christian creeds it originally led to the Fall of Man, and as a purely diabolical spiritual vice, it outweighs anything else often condemned by the Church.


PC seemed to bring up quite often, both in the prep materials and during training, different ways to deal with stress.

I listed journalling, walking, listening to music, reading as my stress-relievers.

These things are more or less available to use here, but then again, maybe not.

What happens when you are looking for a quiet walk by yourself and happen to gain a troop of little followers? Or meet enough people along the path since it's a path to the river and everyone frequents the river? Or, if all the pens/pencils you own to journal with are poor quality and aren't functioning or have been thieved? Or if you don't have batteries in your mp3 player, or you lent your only pair of earplugs out and haven't got them back yet or your mp3 player has been months missing? See where this is going?

I hadn't understood PC's stress on stress-relievers - the stress on drinking responsibly, as well. Ok, of course, we've all heard that spiel, we're all mature adults, we're all aware adults.

I hadn't factored in the need to relieve certain discomforts, whether those be the inability to satisfy your stress-relief in your old ways, or dealing with an amount of stress higher than you've ever been used to, or just an overall need for a break from the weight of the all-encompassing experience.

Which brings me (back) to vices.

Why is it that we develop vices? Comfort? Stress relief? Genetically predisposed? Deficiencies? Just something to do, as in part of our personality, or time/mind-fillers?

At what point do vices become unhealthy habits? Meaning, a person becomes dependent on said vice to feel normal or achieve satisfaction or relaxation, or overuses and/or abuses.

What sort of vices do people have? Abuse?

They say oral-fixated people always have to be chewing something - biting nails, chewing gum, random objects, smoking. Some people have ticks, physical, facial, verbal. Some people turn eating into a more frequent habit than necessary, either because of boredom, gluttony or stress. Some people use alcohol to calm their nerves, etc.

Then there's the point where vices (can) become a habit - or vice versa - destructive or invasive or not. The relationship between vices and habits is interesting, I'm still mulling it over.

For me, I used to eat a lot. I don't think it was because I was stressed, just bored (at a loss) and it was pleasing to the taste buds. I also preferred isolation, alone time. I need my alone time. In addition to, or as an alternate to my stress relievers of former habit, I've developed new ones.

One being smoking. It hasn't turned into a habit, fortunately, but it is a vice. It's a bought moment of focus, of intraversion, awareness. It's a sense of rebellion on an other-wards life of integration.

Another one has become sleep. When an answer simply cannot be found, the best solution seems to be unconsciousness. "Tomorrow's another day," Caribbean singer, Buddy Collz croons. Sometimes a plethora of thoughts and perspectives and emotions catches me an I am unable to figure out what to do with it all, unable to talk it out with a loved one. It helps with my alone time, it allows me to meditate with music and relaxation and it passes the time.

Alcohol hasn't become a vice for me, though I was surprised to find that I've used it as a form of escape.

New experiences, new methods. Learning so much more about my world and myself. Vices. They say alot about humanity and individuality.