Coconuts

Aunt Sirene and I in her yard on the Essequibo Coast, July 2008

Did you know there are two types of coconuts? (Well, there may very well be MORE than that, but what I meant to say was that I’ve learned since coming to Guyana that all coconuts are not the same)

There is a soft coconut and a hard coconut, a water coconut and a dry coconut.

I remember, Dad once brought home a hard coconut from the grocery store for us when we were kids, you know the typical brown, hairy ones you always see in cartoons. He brought it just for fun, just for us to see. He got a hammer and broke it open, and the boys and I looked at the milk inside. Dad gave us a taste and I remember thinking it tasted nothing like milk. I didn’t like it. Dad broke off pieces of the meat, and let us try that, too. This, too, I did not like. Weird texture, not much flavour. I was sort of disenchanted by this coconut. It wasn’t as exotically delicious as I’d expected it to be.

When I came to Guyana, there were a plethora of coconut trees. Many family and friends back home will know my excitement in this. My first vision of a palm tree was in Las Vegas, and as we were walking down some Boulevard, I turned to Mom and said “What I want to know is, where are all the coconuts?” Mom laughed and explained that coconut is a palm tree, but not all palm trees have coconuts on them. Disappointing as that was, my excitement over palm trees began then.

The next summer, on Amanda, Tricia and mine’s graduation trip, when I re-visited the West for the second time, I was wiser, but certainly not jaded. I think I had fallen asleep as we drove into Santa Barbara, and when I woke up, we were driving on the coast, you could see the ocean and – “Oh my god! Palm trees!” Amanda and Tricia never let me forget that. Hey, I was excited, what can I say?

But it wasn’t until coming to Guyana that I got to see coconut palm trees. I looked up at their size, their leaves, and their massive clusters of these yellow to Kelly green coloured globes and admired them. When I was with my host family, they, of course, had coconut trees in their yard, and served me my first. With a cutlass, they cut off the top part of the coconut, then carefully chopped off pieces of the side until the inner sphere was punctured. Mouth up to the hole, tilting the entire coconut, shell and husk alike, up to your mouth. This was coconut WATER, a clear liquid that comes from water coconuts. It has a slightly sweet, slightly acidic taste to it; refreshing.

They say coconut water is good for your health, too. Good to boost immune systems, good to give you an electrolyte boost, and generally very low in sugar, to name a few. Though be careful, it will stain/bleach your clothes. Check out this great article about it when trying to state specifically HOW: The Health Benefits of Water Coconuts.

I’ve had water coconuts opened and El Dorado poured right in; a natural delight. Once all the water is drank, you take the cutlass and cut the coconut in half to get to the coconut jelly. You cut off a shaving of the husk and use it to scoop out the insides. It’s soft, slightly milky white and gelatinous. When I first tried it, I didn’t like it. It was cool to the touch and gooey – ew. But it’s grown on me.

Now, the other coconuts, the hard ones. They’re just like I discovered them to be in Cast Away – you have to shuck the husks off to actually get the round brown shell. A sharp cutlass is a nicer way to open a coconut in comparison to a hammer, too, though whatever gets the job done. I enjoy the milk now, and the meat as well. It is hard to peel out the pieces of meat, but worth it. I’ve come to enjoy snacking on fresh pieces of coconut, but I’ve also come to see the different ways it is used around here.

Once grated, you can do a lot with it. Junita bakes buns (scone-type pastries), Cleonicia and Jose baked me a coconut cake for my birthday. Junita grates it like carrot shreds, dyes it red then rolls it in sweet dough to make salara, a Caribbean pastry. Once you grate the coconut, you pass water through the meat, straining into a cloth and getting all that milk out to add to curries or cook up rice. And while visiting my host family, I watched Meena make coconut oil, a popular cooking, hair and body oil. She grated it, strained out all the milk, let it set over night, then boiled it over a fire until all the fibers and not oil parts got burned into tiny ball-like morsels that she strained out. Coconut oil was what was left. It smells AMAZING.

The coconut. It is something that has earned its usefulness in my eyes while down here.

PCVs Beth, Sarah and Chase, drinking coconut water on the bank of the Maihconi River, in Moraikobai, Region 5 Aug. 2009

"I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts, deedlie dee, there they are all standing in a row, bum bum bum, big ones, small ones, some as big as your head. Give ‘em a twist, a flick of the rest, that’s what the merchant said…."

Language Barriers

I sometimes regret not learning Makushi, the native language spoken down here. I've never HAD to; everyone can understand me and reply to me in English. ESL is trying to be taught down here.

But I wonder - how much more LIFE would reveal itself to me, if I knew the language?

Casual liming evokes Makushi, village meetings change into Makushi, so does church. Ladies' mutterings are in Makushi. Children's retorts are in Makushi.

How much more would I be integrated, know the better way to go about doing something, or understanding why the things are the way they are?

I don't think I should, nor do I want to, fully integrate to the point of becoming someone I am not, but I wish I were more... a member of my village.

Did I just say that?

The Green Ibis

Felix says that people believe that when you see a green ibis flying upriver, the river is about to rise, and vice versa - when you see one flying down river, the river will go down.

On the way back from Katoka, we saw one going upriver. Rainy season must be coming!

That's Not Juice!

I’m awoken to kids’ calls outside the house. “Miss! Miss, come!” Heads appear at one of my windows with open louvers. “MISS!” I tell them I’m coming; they stand there, waiting and watching. As I have no pants on, I shoo them away, throw on a skirt, then go and open the door. A passle of about 10 kids surround my door and I notice Belinda with a bucket of juice or something. What the heck? “What’s up?” I ask them. They pull me out of the door – and throw buckets of stuff all over me! “Whaaaaaaa?!!!!”

“Happy Phagwah Day, Miss!”

Jess had wisely remembered and stayed in bed to let me meet that wet jubilation on my own. I knew it was supposed to be Phagwah, but I’d never caught the festivities before; it’s an East Indian holiday, actually, always held around Spring/Easter time, where you celebrate by throwing water and colourful powders or dyed water over each other. The Essequibo coast is supposed to have the most colourful Phagwah celebrations in the country. It’s not really celebrated here, except for a day off from school. The last two Phagwahs here in Yups, I remember seeing kids running around with water a bit, though I was never caught in it.

Jess did come out of her room eventually, got doused with some red water and a lot of regular water, like me, then we were invited to join in on the fun of storming Mike and Fernando at Caiman House. Mike, Emmelita and Orina were ready for us, too. They had flour.

What a way to wake up on a Sunday morning. Love it.

Toilet Talk; When you Gotta Go, You Gotta Go

There are three locations that feature flush toilets in the village: Caiman House, the Primary School, and Kaigan House (my house). What everyone else uses in the village are pit latrines, a wooden version of port-o-potties, which, of course, don't get emptied, just filled in and relocated once they've reached their quota.

Latrines have various levels of shelter, some being palm leaves on three sides and an open door in front, or perhaps a cloth covering as the door, that blows in the wind. Standard Red Cross-approved ones have four wooden walls, a zinc roof that's slanted to allow air flow at the top, and some wide boards with a circle cut to put your bottom. Not sure the standard depth.

Then, of course, there's always the 'go in the savanna' approach. Darkness is preferrable for this approach, if no darnkess, than a good bush or tree is desired. When you're on the move, going in front of or behind a vehicle suffices. Women will go squat together, especially at night, no need for modesties, it's all nature. (I've gotten pretty good at squat bathroom time, btw.)

We have a latrine behind Kaigan House, I use it on occasion. For a period of about a week, our toilet was clogged and we HAD to use it. I have access to toilet paper (House Proud!) that's not only perforated, but dusted with baby powder for a fresh smell and feel. But most people don't use TP. In other household latrines, you'll see sections of old books on the boards with the hole in it for sitting.

There seems to be some sort of elemtental statement in the act of wiping one's bottom with pages of written word. I just don't know what that statement is exactly.

Contrasts

Did you ever used to lay upside down on a couch, or the floor or whatever and imagine if the room’s roof were the floor and the floor, the roof? I did.

As kids we know every crack in the sidewalk, every branch of a tree; we are intimate with the outdoors – indoors, too for that matter, every nook and cranny. We look at things with different perspectives.

At what point of growing up to we stop looking at the world around us in this special way? Stop seeing each item for its innate potential?

During my first visit home in two years, I went for a walk in my KC neighborhood and started to compare and contrast some aspects of my life – childhood and adulthood, for one, but also US life and Guyana life (or more specifically, Kansas City life and the Rupununi Life)… Contrasts…..

I remembered some of the first impressions of the States as the airplane from Guyana to New York landed; I immediately began noticing differences between the two countries/cultures:
-Baseball fields!
-Wow, McGarry was right; Americans are TALL.
-The order, procedure and attention given to customers. We Americans queue like nobody’s business and if we don’t know where to go or don’t choose to go that way, we have personnel to put us back in place.
-Consumerism rules! There are places to spend money at every corner. We PCV’s spend two years developing a country’s capacity, and apparently the US spends two years developing an iPod vending machine.
-Squeaky wheel sounds – I initially thought it was men sipping – I immediately ‘heard’ it then started to ignore it, until I realized no one sips here.
-Dimmed lights made me think ‘blackout!’ for a moment; Edith, too!
-Hesitation before using water – is it ok to drink straight? Oh yeah, wait, of course it is.
-Lingering tendencies to swat mosquitoes, itch, etc., but nothing there.
-Realization that I am not “Miss” here.
-It’s 8 p.m. and still light outside???

My neighborhood here in the suburbs of Kansas City, Missouri: We moved to this neighborhood my senior year of high school and I appreciated the neighborhood-like aspect to the area; our old house was on a street with no other turns on it. There are sidewalks on many of the streets, the yards are well-maintained, you encounter different dogs and cats, some different neighbors, the routes for walking are fairly substantial, a lot of turns and weaving in and out. "Well-maintained" in KC means most yards have lush, thick grass in front and back that's kept mowed and even.

My neighborhood in Yups, the Rupununi, Region 9 of Guyana: there are different paths, likewise (though smaller and more transparent), as well as well-maintained yards - most are void of green, as all grass and weeds are painstakingly hoed and the yard is left clean with brownish red pebbles that will get raked clean of any leaves that happen to fall. Many different dogs, cats, cows, sheep, chickens; different neighbors out and about.

Many similarities; many fundamental differences, too, though. I hadn’t realized how enclosed my KC neighborhood seems – houses every couple of yards, fences, driveways, cars. There is a lot of shade, which is good, but also a lack of a breeze. I love the freedom of my Rupununi neighborhood, the open areas, the secluded paths, the paths leading OUT of civilization.

Yups has a greater variety of animal life out and about; these animals run free, more or less. And I have to remind myself, as I walk through KC, that these dogs and cats are usually fenced off and defensive of their territories; more likely there, the dogs cower at you and you have to coax them to come for a pat on the head and you can call your canine buddies to you – they’ll come running.

When walking the paths of Yups, or most anywhere in Guyana, most of the people you cross paths with will look at you and call “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” or some other variation of greeting. It’s something I’ve come to really enjoy. Sometimes people will say “All right, all right,” as in me and you are ok with each other and the world.

The streets in my suburb aren’t so heavily populated, and acknowledgements are more low-key. You wouldn’t find someone who lives in your vicinity but you don’t know their name inviting you to share in their activity. On the flip side, as I passed two men working on a car in a driveway this morning, I initially braced myself for catcalls and sipping, as is customary in Guyana from most strange males. I had to remind myself that most men here wouldn’t act in such a way.

Contrasts.

As a volunteer, we become intimate with another, foreign environment, we are forced to look at things known and unknown with new perspectives, every day. We draw from our past experiences to relate to our current experiences. Some moments, it seems as if the two worlds couldn’t be further apart; others, it’s as if they were super-imposed on each other, too similar to be too foreign. There’s nothing like a step back, or a step back into, to gain a new outlook, or to regain a lost one.

**I’m sure more differences will come to me in the remaining weeks here in KC, a thought that has inspired me to make an accompanying post to my “KC Chronicles.” I want to make one of Guyana, and more specifically, the Rupununi and my village, Yupukari. I’ll be calling on my Guyanese friends to help fill in on little blurbs, just like my KC friends did. Coming soon… <3

How do you use your food?

When you go to a shop or restaurant and order a snack or a beer or a meal, they'll ask you:

"For use or carry?" as in: "Eating here, or to go?"

Um, yes, I plan to use my food as sustenance and eat it - now - not carry it to another location, even if it wants a change of scene.

Knock, knock

When coming to a person's house or a small shop, it's habit to call "Inside!" to get the people's attention. "Inside, inside!" If you wanna be a jokester, you might respond "Outside!" to signify you've heard the summons.

Alternate form of getting a home's attention: clapping. No verbal greeting, just clapping. At a clap, you're expected to come running to see what's up.

Oranges

They're green here.

Rainbows

They are all over down here. And, not like in the States, where you can only see one side or one piece of it.... there's enough open space here to see the rainbow in it's entirety. Can you imagine? A rainbow, a full spectrum of color, spanning 12 or more miles, across the open savannah, mountains in the background, trees all over...... bountiful clouds, red-brown dirt roads...

Another gift from rainy season. Light rains come, with the sun still shining bright, and it's as if the rain is showing you one of Earth's beautiful secrets.

To Rain or Not To Rain

Guyana, like other Caribbean countries, has only 2 seasons: Rainy Season, and Dry Season. The sun rises and sets within the same hour throughout the year (sunrise between 5:30 and 6:30 a.m., sunset between 5:30 and 6:30 p.m. most of the time) and the temperatures vary very little, around 30C, which is 86F. Breezes are always welcomed.

Dry Season lasts from about November (the rains end around late August, and a month or so later, the waters recede) to May, and in this time, the rivers come drastically down, roads open up all over the savannah, dust is rampant and fishing is a free for all. It's harder to maneuver boats through some twists and turns of rivers and creeks, but the fishing makes it worth it. For those away from water sources, there can be stress to maintain enough drinking, bathing, washing water. Though I've never heard of terrible drought-like instances anywhere. I've come to view Dry Season as the more enjoyable of the two seasons.

In rainy season, one has to be prepared to always be dirty. Once you get clean, you're either stepping in mud or a puddle, or you're slapping bugs and smearing blood all over, or you're spraying bug spray, or you're sweating because of the long sleeves you're wearing.

My feet are perpetually dirty, with mud lines outlining my toes. I'm constantly slapping all exposed parts of my body. There's either a bug to wipe off, a hive like bite to not itch, a bubble of blood to wipe, scrape away. And then with the itching you're not supposed to be doing with the bites, you're getting dirt under your nails that you have to constantly clean out.

Cicadas are running 24/7, their constant humming, buzzing, trilling doesn't just happen at dusk and night time, but throughout the entire day. You can hear as new ones join in, either matching to the same frequency as the others, or creating a whole different wavelength of sound.

The sky is cloudy and so our solar panels aren't continually functioning, meaning work done on computers is limited, the wells aren't continually functioning so water is inconsistent to wash clothes. When you get your clothes washed and on the line, it may be days before they are fully dried, because once they get half dried, rain comes again.

With different rain fall patterns on the roof, the leaks appear in different places each night. Moving the bed out of one leak one night might mean nothing the next night, as rain has found another hole from nails in the zinc roof. Nothing can be left on the ground, because water seeps in from the corners of the room.

Yups is on a hill, which prevents massive flooding in the village. However, at the bottom of the hill, a creek forms. It's called Prepida, and it comes up the hill halfway. It's a good place to go bathing, closer than the river or lake, though to get to the main road, you have to take a long route around, where water is lower. And the on the road to Lethem, you have to go the long way, because the shortcut through Nappi and Parishara is underwater. It's 30 to 50 minutes out of the way, not to mention the slower velocity you're already driving because of puddles and things.

Higher water levels also indicate lower density of fish, as well as fish eggs getting uprooted and flooded out. Fried fish is hard to come by in times like these. No boily, no orange fish, no fish stew, either.

On the up side, travel by water is easy and quick, there are no worries of running on land, you have to make fewer turns. You can use routes to places that'll get you there faster than it would on land. And, there IS an exquisite joy in travelling by water. You are at eye level with the earth, almost, you are pulled into one of its rhythms. You have the breeze on your face, the sunlight above you, the buoyancy of the water beneath you. You have a higher opportunity to see different birds, reptiles and mammals.

You can wait for the storm to pass, or you can learn to dance in the rain, right?

Arrival Day (27 photos), by Sarah Ambriz

I'd like to share my Walmart Digital Photo Center photos with you. Once you have checked out my photos you can order prints and upload your own photos to share.

Here's the photo album of Arrival Day I talked about in my General Updates post a month or so ago. The pumpkin pie-baking day. The day's festivities seemed a good opportunity to shed light on the six main groups of Guyana and how the individual cultures collectively influence the country as a whole, through food, dance, dress and language.

The Incredible, Edible Egg

Scrambled eggs and farine, scrambled eggs and toast, scrambled eggs and crackers, fried eggs and farine, boiled eggs, egg salad sandwich, egg salad and bakes, fried egg sandwich, egg drop soup, pancakes, french toast, sweet/fancy fried breads....

Eggs have become a main staple of mine down here.

Did you know eggs didn't need to be in the fridge? I mean, I sorta did, I read Little House on the Prairie and remember wondering, in amazement how they kept their eggs. But it sorta slipped my mind when I got here, and so seeing eggs, out of a carton and out of a chilled area, was weird. We were instructed that eggs would keep, though for a shorter amount of time, obviously, and they recommended you turned your eggs over every couple of days to keep them from going bad as fast.

I remember the day I arrived at site (almost 2 years ago!), I was so oppressed by newness, so wary, so alert. CH left me free reign of their kitchen, though this was before I developed my mad cooking skills. I glimpsed sight of a flat of eggs, and, without any other seasonings except for salt and pepper and water, made scrambled eggs and ate them with ketchup. The familiar taste was an ovular hug of encouragement, of moral sustenance as well as caloric.

The egg is an easy meal to make, you can make it as simple as salt and pepper, or as fancy as onions, garlic, peppers, bagee (spinach), tomatoes and even beef. Jess has this eggs and farine and cheese meal she makes that's pretty darn good, too. (When we have cheese, that is). As long as I have eggs and farine, I know I'd never starve here.

But, what does it take for me to get the eggs?

Sometimes, eggs are available at the main shop in the village, Bryan and Maisie's shop. They have vehicles and drivers for those vehicles, so their stocks are more or less consistently available. When I buy from the shop, I'll buy 6 or 8 at a time, (at $40 an egg, or 20 cents). These eggs are for the entire village to purchase, however, so you want to be a little frugal, or at least realistic when you think about how many you buy, because you don't know when next the shop will get eggs.

Sometimes, I buy directly from Lethem, when I or my roommate happen to go in to shop, or if CH goes in and has room to bring us some. When that happens, I get a whole flat. One flat, 30 eggs ($880), of our very own, to last us until we eat them up, or they go bad, maybe after 2 weeks or so. And what does it mean to procure a flat, purchase it, and purvey it back to K. House?

You gather forth your 30 eggs in the cardboard, egg shaped pallet, then you get the same egg cardboard ontop. You Duct Tape that baby around and over, around and over, several times, to make sure none fall out. Once the vehicle is packed of all other supplies in mass quantities, you put the eggs in, last, on top of a lap, most likely. And you guard it, vigilantly, for the next 2 hours, the next 40 miles, over a riveted, gravel/mud road, through puddles, through streams, over tree stumps. You protect your eggs from happy-go-lucky pit stops upon the road, where everybody's out, in and all about. You finally get to your House, and unload that flat of eggs upon your counter, cut open the tape bindings and sigh in relief and pleasure at the sight of 30, unfractured, brown, spotted eggs.

The Georgetown Road

NY Times < click on this!

NY Times Just came out with an article on Guyana May 9th -

An article regarding the Georgetown Road, the road I have to travel on from Lethem to GTown each time I need to go to the capital for conferences, or to access the rest of the country from my region (9). This paved road debate is a fitting example of the primary conflict within the country, one of maintaining it's modest traditions and pristine environment, or plunging further and quicker into industry.

It's neat to see familiar faces (Graham Watkins is quite well-travelled in the country and others, the DeFreitas family at Dadanawa Ranch is a beautiful place I've been able to visit) and for you all to see a part of where/how I've spent my time here.

Local Remedies

There are some local things I've come across since being here that I hadn't heard of back in the States, even if they are used.

Crabwood Oil - from the Crabwood Tree, it's also known as Andiroba. It's yellowish in color and used for all sorts of skin issues like sunburns, rashes, bug bites, dandruff. You can even ingest it and it's supposed to be healthy. Supposed to help as a laxative, too.

My PCV buddy Nick swears by it, and my neighbor, Lucy, gave me a bottle to use. It's sold unofficially and in official bottles as well. It has a pleasant musky scent to it. (Tastes terrible though. don't ever accidentally use it instead of regular oil for brownies.)

Shilling Oil - A clear, minty liquid sold in small bottles used for colds or headaches. You smell it or rub it on aching muscles or your forehead and it's supposed to relieve it. Made of camphor and menthol, sorta like Mentholatum or something.

Honey - Maisie, our HM, swears by honey to help heal cuts and scrapes. She says it dries out the wound, so I suppose it's similar to Iodine in that regard.

Garlic - Since coming down here, I've seen garlic used on warts, in ears for aches and eaten to help with gas, or as they call it being 'locked off with wind.' Lucy suggests to make a tea of garlic, with milk to help cure wind. I know it as a detoxifier and as a sinus opener and overall healthy thing to consume, especially raw (Dad used to say so and we'd sit around the dinner table, daring to eat small bites of the cloves.) I looked it up online, and it says that garlic contains a substance called Allicin, which has anti-bacterial properties that are equivalent to a weak penicillin. It appears that cooked garlic weakens the anti-bacterial effects considerably, however. Says to also be good for wounds, skin irritations, flu, high blood pressure, kidney and bladder issues, worms and more. A repellant for mosquitoes and more. And then BAM - per one website: Garlic works as a cleanser of the digestive system, helps in curing flatulence, kills internal parasites and is an excellent internal antiseptic. Heck yeah, garlic.

These are all pretty easily available here, Shilling Oil is widely used. Other plant products, like aloe, are used, too. I've heard of a couple other local plants (bush medicine) that are said to help with different issues such as diabetes or high/low blood pressure, but I don't know much about them.

Tic Tac, Sir?

Hard candies are called "Sweeties" or "Chico" down here. Chico is a brand that does candy, and it can also refer to gum.

When people offer you a mint, beware, it's probably a Halls cough drop. People eat them like candy.

Lastly, with the money exchange at $200 GYD to $1USD, the $20 is the lowest paper bill. So when you gotta give $10 in change, it's a little silly. So shop owners will give one or two sweeties/mints/chico as change.

Drinking Habits

It's habit/custom to flick out the last dregs of any drink, be it water, juice, or cari.

You 'bottoms up' on the drink, and then flick the cup sideways into the grass, gravel or wherever, and then hand the cup back to whoever gave it to you.

I'm assuming this is done because any dirt or dregs from the homemade beverages in the drink will have sank to the bottom and you don't want to drink that. It's interesting how it's come to include water, even, too.

Pears

An avocado, a fruit grown in the area, is called a 'pear' down here. I have introduced the concept of guacamole to Lucy, at least. I think it'll catch on. Lucy suggests mashing an avocado and mixing with milk to make a nice drink.

"Love" "bites"/"taps"

It's quite common to be slapped/smacked by people down here. Mid-conversation, mid-silence, sometimes you see it coming, other times it's out of the blue. Sometimes it stings and makes a resounding SMAAACK!, other times, it's a more humble tap. It can be on your leg, your arm... even your forehead. After you feel and hear the seemingly non sequitor tap, you look down or at your assailant, and realize they are swatting at or away mosquitoes, caborra or black flies.

oh. um, thank you.

On a side note, have you ever considered the Meaning of Life for a fly? I mean, what incorrigible little pests are they?! "I'm touching you, I'm touching you - HA! you can't get me, you can't get me!" *nibble, nibble* "Ha! You can't get me!" Besides frequenting the local dung heap, and then later your food, that's about it for them. I bet they find their irritations to be quite satisfying. What sadists.

Nature's Little Snack Packs

For $100 GYD (about 50 cents, US) you can buy 10 tangerines here, which pack more juice, more flavor, more goodness than any snack food back home, and are locally grown, picked and sold.

The $100, is, of course, when you aren't given them for free, which happens more often than not.