Seasons

I complained about the wintery weather of Kansas City when I visited over the Holidays. I always loved winter, and the fresh coldness of it, the beautiful snow, the enjoyable warm beverages and the hoodies, scarves and slippers, but perhaps it was the sudden contrast, coming from a tropical climate to instant winter, that put me off of it, mentally and physically. All the sudden I was dealing with chapped lips when I never had to wear chapstick or lipgloss down there if I didn’t want to. My face suddenly was flaky and needed lotion more than twice a day, as well as my body, when I had no use for such things down there. I hadn’t needed lotion down there, and because any time I’d come out of the shower, I’d just sweat as I tried to apply it, I soon stopped the routine all together.

My home in KC, set at 69 degrees Fahrenheit, seemed to be chilly enough to have a cool nose and toes, and don’t even think about going to the garage or downstairs for fun. For the start of my visit home, especially, it was so cold outside, you rushed from car to house as quick as you could and thoughts of spending time outside recreationally were nipped in the bud. Definite sensations of cabin fever arose.

I found myself wishing for that sweaty, buggy, dirty terrain of Guyana, pretty quickly. Sure, you always had sweat stains, daily bathing was a necessity, most likely twice daily, as well, and it was almost always an issue of how much more one could remove of clothing to be most comfortable but not inappropriate. Any makeup you put on would be sweat off and smeared, or would make you break out or attract bugs so you wore the minimal. But it was breezy, refreshing. You weren’t encumbered by layers of clothes, or body care products (besides soap and deodorant). Free as the wind blows.

As a young adult who would be pretty content with air conditioning in the summer, this was a surprise to me as well as Mom, that I found myself in a tropical location for two years, and then chose to stay longer. That’s not to say I didn’t love nature or the outdoors or summer, I just enjoyed being cold.

Coming back into Guyana, I was met with the same breezes, the same lush plants, the same rains and the same natural smells. It was a ‘breath of fresh air,’ for certain, although it did occur to me, on some level, that everything was the SAME. Or, things emitted the air of sameness. That stability, knowing what to expect, can be appreciated at times – especially in a line of work that involves so much instability and surprise.

As I sat on the veranda to the hotel I stay at in Town, seeing the palm trees and feeling the breeze, I thought of – again – how I will need to say goodbye to it all, how my time in Yups will come to an end, how change has already started there, and will continue without me there. It sort of feels wrong to think of life continuing as normal without me there – my own life and life in the village. But, I remind myself that I’ve had to say goodbye to other seasons of my life before this one.

I remember feeling so involved with my job at Worlds of Fun, I stayed for 4 seasons there. I remember when I was in the pit orchestra for the play, My Fair Lady, that was a wonderful couple of months, full of rehearsals and planning and practicing. I remember when my routine every Sunday meant driving 45 minutes from college to KC to teach preschool and kindergarten Sunday school. Each season becomes a part of you, it’s in you, you feel it.

But most things don’t last forever. They can’t. Things ebb and flow.

Which is why I love the Midwestern seasons so much. None of the perpetual sameness, NOR the drastic leap from one extreme to the other. Granted, my favorite seasons are the transition seasons, Autumn and then Spring, but even the extremes of Winter and Summer have moments of joy, and moments that shed glory on their opposite.

It’s slow, it’s gradual, each season prepares you for the next. One can remorse that Summer is over, but then one can rejoice that Fall has begun, for Fall brings its own beauties, Fall brings us Winter, and of course, Summer is only a Spring’s breath away.

Even the more or less constant tropical character of down here has its slight seasons. There is a rainy season and a dry season. Growth seasons and re-growth seasons – just not all at the same time.

Earth’s beautiful balances. The end of one thing marks the beginning of another. And all good things must come to a close, sooner or later.

New Years Eve

–saying goodbye, no matter where you are
-interrupted plans, incomplete plans
-depending on and being responsible for only yourself

This is the part that people must mean when they tell me what I do is hard.

When you’re doing what I’ve chosen to do, you might end up spending New Year’s Eve at an airport amongst strangers, for example. Sorta hard, yeah.

I wryly smile, knowing that’s just the way it is, a unique and therefore appreciated fact of Life.

I feel sad at saying goodbye to Mom, Dad, Zach and Tony, tearing up a bit to think I won’t feel their touch, hear their voices, feel their love, hear their love for a long while.

I feel excited at this new predicament of Life – what will happen on my journey, who will I meet, what will I mull over in the next hours, how wonderful will it be to step into the tropical embrace of Guyana, will any mishaps occur???

I worry – if mishaps DO occur, will I be able to cope? How is my health? Will these next 8 months conclude satisfactorily? What will happen next?

But --- I take pride; at how I’ve managed so far, at an optimism for the future, in all those who stand behind and beside me in Life.

And so, I accept this, being at JFK, sitting in the food court with a hot chocolate and mini pretzels mom packed for me, preparing to bring in the New Year, 2011, on my own.

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.

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

Development: Outreach to Parishara (53 photos)

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.


This album accompanies/complements the preceding post called "Development."

Development

Background info: Outreach is something I'm involved in through RLI; we bring books and other supplies, trainings, ideas, designs to other schools in the area, more or less. RLI, remember, stands for Rups Learners Inc., and is a Guyanese NGO (non-government organization) made up of Guyanese board members, all living in my village of Yups. RLI has an American counterpart, RLF, RL Foundation, that Alice is the head for, as well as other Americans, some who are Returned Peace Corps Volunteers. Alice has just come back into the country after almost 3 years away. Never having met her before, it definitely changed things around CH when she arrived in March. It's interesting to realize how I became so used to the lack of American presence in my life, not to mention female/maternal. But that's another story.

Alice had arranged a self-help session for Parishara Nursery, a village about 40 miles away. At first, I sorta sulked that I wasn't included or at least made aware of this, as outreach and interactions with these villages have been work of mine before Alice got here. But I realized that if I want to be involved still, I need to assert myself into the work, be more pro-active. So I lightly conveyed my desire to still be involved in outreach, and I became part of the team that went to Parishara a few Saturdays ago: Alice, Felix, Hamzad, Mark, Combrencent, Lucy and being driven by Bryan and Maisie.

At face-value, the day was very satisfying. Fun assortment of people, clear-cut tasks at hand, beautiful trek into Parishara, visible results in the end, then light detour to Lethem with the group.

"Self help" is a concept widely used down here, a Makushi term for it is "myu." People are gathered to work on either village clean up or village projects, or personal projects and jobs. Those asking for the help will usually provide a meal, or at least some cari/rice wine or shebay (farine and water) to sustain the helpers. You'd be surprised how fast a job can be completed - what with the diligence of the Amerindians and the sweet drive of the cari.

Self help is something that helps the world go 'round down here, everyone helping everyone. Volunteers come to clean the school, cut down grass in the main part of the village, help re-thatch roofs, etc. We've tried to convey to the kids that you all are volunteers (just like Miss Sarah) and that's a beautiful thing. It's used to get work done within CH and within the village, though Alice still asserts that people don't appreciate working for free, so a lot of work is stipended by her... Beneficial for all, but brought about, planned and led by her.

We have mixed views on partnerships and collaboration within the village. I, while admitting to a potential naivety brought about by noviceness, maintain that the process should be shared by all, understood by some at least, and contributed by all (planning and executing). All need to have the opportunity to understand and agree/disagree with the plan, even if the plan is a good one that they'll thank you for later. Things may go slower that way, but I think there'll be more ownership and passion there. Alice feels that going slow while there are still children who can't read is an immoral act, she feels that people can't know they want something if they don't know it exists - so you might as well tell them they need it while giving it to them.

I seem to have a more laissez fare approach, as do others at CH, where, sure, you illuminate, and foster, but step back to let others step up. Much slower, less accomplished, sure. But comprehension? Buy in? I think it's there. Lack of perfection? You bet. Petered out energy, corners cut, ill used equipment? Yep. (S'all part of it.) Much physical progress has been made since March, more so than myself or others at CH or in the village could have done/ would have done/ did, I can say that, at least.

Anyway, I don't know how much of this was actually planned by those in Parishara Nursery, I don't know how much knowledge was passed on for them to continue in the same regards later, but I didn't take on that stress. I appreciated being a follower, and not having to be a leader. Perhaps this relief keep me from critiquing our leader's ways, but, for the day, it was a nice reprieve from both - leading and critiquing.

I got to paint, and the fun kind where you don't have to worry about drips, smears, evenness. Alice planned a savanna scene for the reading area; I painted the green for grass, then got to climb up a ladder/tower to paint some boards blue for sky. Some boys sketched the details for the mural, Combrencent, an artisan in Yups, drew mountains at the skyline, Hamzad and Mark set to work on making the rain-gutter style bookshelves Alice promotes for all libraries she creates, and Lucy led some ladies in cutting and sewing cushions for kids to sit on in the story area. Books, shelves, cushions and painting are all typical stuff Alice has done for our schools in the past, and some things I've carried on to an extent since doing outreach here.

How much did Parishara have to do with the work this day? How much say in it did they have? How much tutoring? Parishara ladies helped with the cushions, men helped with the painting... I guess one could argue that .... well wait - did she pay these workers from Yups? I don't know. I was going to say that it at least we now have Yups people working to help another village and show them how they've done it (per Alice) in their own schools, but then, yes, were those people paid for the day? Hmm. Oh, the facets of development...

I used to think development was more like building a structure. Building blocks. You set the foundation, and work your way up, or you start with the frame and work your way in. You can physically see the missing pieces, the additions, etc. You see when the product is finished. A step by step process. But I found this to not be so with this sort of development. It's more tornadic/tornadesque. Chaotic and uprooting, sure :D, but I mean more cylindrical, going around, back and forth through different components, until you get closer and closer, more concentrated, intense - and then finally reach the Touch Down Point, your goal. Which may or may not be where you anticipated it to land.

Because the road to Parishara was so high, Bryan decided to, instead of going to Lethem them coming back to pick us up and go back on the same road, he'd wait for us then carry us to Lethem with him and go around the longer, dryer road. He and Maisie helped with the painting, too, and Maisie designed a fun table pattern with different colors and numbers on it. Like Alice, the morning was frenzied and productive. We finished by 1 p.m., ate a lunch they cooked for us, then headed onto Lethem, pockets packed with oranges and some golden Parishara farine HM Jean slipped in my hands. :) Hardly anyone brought money, and Bryan mostly only needed fuel, so the trip was very short, with only a few stops here and there, a quick break of beer and buns, then we headed back. Got back by 6:30, tired, but content.

Another positive (and by positive, I mean a simple lack of upfront negativity) experience with development, with Alice and development with Alice.

Simplicity of character -

- is the direct result of profound thought. ~Found in my fortune cookie ca. 2003

We've had some quite ‘worldly’ guests in CH. A bit over my head, out of my world, at times.

Sometimes, it’s something else to be here, so foreign. The guests I meet, the people I encounter (volunteer, HCN, ex-pats, etc.). So many of them have been so many places, seen so many things, done so many things, met so many people, have so many opinions and ideas and knowledge. Who have encountered peoples from all over, experienced different things, have educated themselves on various subjects. The kind of people who use phrases like “my favorite place in the planet” for example.

It is an uncomfortable reminder that there is a lot more going on out there in the world.

I alone entertained a couple guests, in particular, over a dinner and breakfast. One is a photographer who’s been in the area taking pictures for a book he is collaborating on. He is one of the top nature photographers of the world, I believe. He’s sold pictures to National Geographic, worked on some photographers’ organization in Europe and done guest stints on Wildlife TV shows around, and for BBC. He’s written a book about Mongolia, acted as a guide for different countries such as Antarctica, the Arctic and Australia.

Another is a horticulturist who’s worked for wealthy people in the states for years and well-travelled as well. She was volunteering in the country.
Impressive resumes and exciting to hear their tales. Intimidating, too, a little. I definitely didn’t have much to add to the dinner table conversation. But it was the post-dinner conversation that really hung me up.

The lady seemed so critical of Americans, religion and referred to many people as stupid. I think she considers close-minded people stupid, which I'm not necessarily saying is wrong, but it sorta seems almost an oxymoron almost to me, to judge people who judge others.

My mother country and my spiritual life were both insulted. I didn’t know how to respond.

It’s not just ‘worldly’ people combating what I stand for, though, and who do not share certain views that I do - I am in quite the minority here in the Rupununi, as a conservative, active Christian, for a start.

Those I am surrounded by don’t believe in monogamy; my good friends here do not believe that it’s possible for natural for two people to live a lifetime together, happily and loyally. My students are more sexually active than I am. Some youths who aren’t even considered adults in the states are mothers and housewives.
It’s just… weird. Different. Lonely. Sad.

Which, I guess is a difficulty I’d rather face, instead of bland neutrality all the time. I have felt more alive here than ever before. (Though I’ve also felt quite numb here, at times ever than before.) I guess I’d rather be challenged, questioned for my beliefs and find myself still holding them, than just blindly clinging to them. Can you have a strong grasp on (the depths of) your beliefs and faiths if it’s never tested? What would have happened if I had gone to, like, a college on the Bible Belt, and all that? I may have had and have less strife, but also be less aware, less sure of my beliefs.


So, I recognize the opportunity to be challenged and grow, but I guess I found myself wanting?

That night, I basically just let them talk. I mean, 1) because I didn't really have much to contribute, and sure, let them talk, it's obviously things they feel passionately about and want to talk, but also 2) I find myself not as concerned or opinionated about the topics as they are. And even if I don’t agree - with religion for example - it's not like I could sway them with one evening of conversation. And THEN, it’s not my place as a PCV to get involved in political or religious (to an extent) conversations. I listened, nodded, threw out some ‘oh’s’ and ‘uh huh’s’ and sometimes felt like saying ‘no,’ but not sure why exactly or how to express it, so didn’t vocalize it. I’m sure I handled things the right way at the time.

But on the other hand, I wondered if I'm lacking adequate 'counter-attacks.' I mean, these people had comments on such anthropologic stuff from religion, to war, to politics, to gender roles...

Sometimes I wonder if I'm too bland. Too uninvolved. Too 'live and let live.'

Too content with simple things that won't solve problems.

There was no space for 'I laughed with a kid today and we read a book together' in the night's conversation. Which, I guess, admittedly, doesn't fit into every appropriate conversation. It certainly won’t stop national debt or nuclear war, not directly, at least. Nor should a teacher be expected to confront such issues; no one can be expected to undertake each and every subject matter.

What do I know? What can I contribute to a conversation like that one? Do I not know enough about my own country’s news and history? Do I not have enough opinions worthy of sharing?

The toughest job you'll ever love

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

This is a part of the well-known Serenity Prayer, written by theologian Reinhold Niebhur. It has been adopted by Alcoholics Anonymous and various other 12-step programs.

Seems sorta perfect for Peace Corps Service, as well.

My group will be officially leaving in two months and 5 days. Of the 34 PCVs that swore in in my group, 26 were at COS. Since COS, 2 more have gone home. The rest of us, even though they may leave before July 23rd, will be considered to have reached their COS. One PCV, Juan, will be serving a third year in Costa Rica. One of us, Chase, is appyling to be a PC recruiter. One, Tim, is applying to be a PC Response Volunteer. A last, Jud, will be staying in country as an ex-pat, working for the NGO he volunteered with.

Two volunteers, Collen and Emily, are extending service for 3 months. Karishma will extend for 9 months. My good buddy, Nick, and myself will extend for a year.

GUY21 is celebrating their Mid-Service Training right now. Can't believe it's been a year for them. Some seem as veteran as we are, others are still quite excitable.

GUY22, a group of 33, swore in on March 31. As I've been in Town for vacation and medical things over the past week and a half, four of the GUY22 PCVs have gone home. One left before that. This meeting I had in Lethem a couple weeks ago was in response to some difficulties of GUY22 volunteers in our region.



Is it just me, or do they not make PCV's like they used to?

Ok, this is harsh and judgemental. And, I know that a few of these ET's (early termination) were done for medical reasons, not personal, which holds true for my group as well. But..... I seem to get the feeling that not everyone is handling 'it' as well as I've seen.

In the Peace Corps:

You'll see things that irk you, frustrate you, even outrage you; you'll have to ignore or push past numerous other distrctions, you'll have to use various methods different from what you're used to or have even done before. You'll be stereotyped, judged, scrutinized, ignored or thrust into the spotlight. You'll have to accept different social norms - acknowledge, if anything. You'll see things you'd never dare see in the Sates, and you'll know you could never change them, even if they need (desperately) to be changed. You'll want to move mountans, but only be able to move grains of sand. You may be the only one who knows mountains need to be moved. You'll do very little things 'your way.' You'll have to confront uncomfortble, unpleasant, if not gruesome facts of life, perhaps on a daily basis, that you'd been able to steer clear from back home. You won't have your nutritional, personal or emotional needs met like you're grown accustomed to.

It's part of it. It's understood. It's the toughest job you'll ever love.

Loved Ones ARE Always With Us

Just the other night, I was making popcorn and my Dad was with me.

I was listening to Plain White Tees and Devon was with me.

I was scratching a mosquito bite and Tony was with me (he used to have excema and scratched a lot, I remember the sound).

I say "You bet" here, and think of Dad and Mom; it's something he has said for years.

I feel a compulsion to clean out the sink, and think of Mom who would insist that when you 'did the dishes,' you cleaned the counters, sink, the works. I always fought it before I came here - now I get it.

It occurred to me, somewhere in the last 6 months, that through memories, and incidents shared, tendencies shared, they can be with you, even when they aren't WITH you. It was a comforting discovery. Loved ones are as big a part of our identity as anything.

Miracle products

Commercials/products of strong Aluminum Foil, knives that cut through shoes and never need sharpening and non-stick spray seem a little less over-the-top now that I am using such supplies and lacking those exact qualities. Who knew how frustrating weak aluminum foil is???

Bared Beauty

I've considered myself an optimist, a lover and Laugher of Life. Most of the time, anyways.

But - being down here has sort of made it even easier to see the beauty or humour or goodness of a situation much more. I find myself looking at so many people adoringly, appreciating how unique and special and fitting they are. (Maybe this is because it's so much easier to see the ugliness and harshness of certain things, too.)

Every day, I see someone or something that makes me sit back, contented. The breeze, the wide expanse of savannah, the flowers, the fruit trees, the colourful macaws. I get excited over water flowing through the taps, over sun-dried bedsheets.

I look at the people around me and endearingly notice both their similarities and differences and adore them for it, appreciating their different life forces.

Words like "love" and "beautiful" - I find myself using and feeling them so much more now, realizing it's so easy to find, if you're looking for it. I know that just as much beauty and love can be found back home...

... and I hope I will carry this even greater appreciation for life when I go back home. Same and different types of both.

What a wonderful thing, isn't it? To notice the beauty and love all around? What things do you look at each day and think "Hmmmmm. Beautiful." ??

Another shining PC day:

Thursday is Teacher Meeting Day... wooo........... yeah, not so much. GUY22 has arrived and I hosted a PCT for the week. Kate came on Monday, and I took her through what I do on a normal basis. I told her Thursday was the best Peace Corps example I could give her.

It's been three weeks since our last teacher's meeting. Last week was Mash activities, the week before was prep for Mash activities. The week before that, we had talked about questions. The differences between open-ended and close-ended questions, and using the 5W's (and H) to get your students to express more, verbal and written. We tried organizing the answers the the questions in brainstorm webs. We worked on one as a group, then I asked the teachers to bring one of their own for our next teachers' meeting.

I was all ready to continue with our "Questions" sessions, I had creative activities to do, etc. And, as Peace Corps requests, Kate would help facilitate that meeting. I looked forward to the collaboration.

Except, Thursday at lunch (about 3 hours before the meeting), our HM asked for help with explaining how to do components of the teachers' Notes of Lesson (lesson plans). She equipped Kate with a handbook and suggested we look at the grade one teacher's Notes of Lesson for Science or something. Um, ok.

We both were a little unsure, and didn't really have much time, but we said we'd do what we could. So, after lunch, we sat down, poured through the handbook, the Notes of Lesson and the textbook. The HM wanted help with showing teachers how to better write the Specific Objectives of their lessons. We sort of paraphrased our interpretation of the handbook's instruction on writing Specific Objectives and then threw in there our creative ways for doing a lesson, too. We turned our brainstorming into a handout for the teachers as well as an exercise with the science lesson. We printed it out and finished with a couple minutes to spare. The snacks were ready, we were prepared. I was pleased with ourselves and optimistic.

Then, Toshao comes and asks if he can use the upstairs in the library for a meeting for 30 minutes. Well, we have the teachers' meeting up there at 3.... he says it won't take more than 30 minutes, that'll give us time, plus the HM was in the meeting. News to me. Ok... It turned 2:45, and the HM and some other teachers still hadn't reached yet, so the meeting hadn't started yet, and when it DID start, the HM would be still occupied... Then the other teachers reached, and one brave spokesperson said the teachers wanted to go get vaccinations for their babies at the health post. That could take all afternoon...

Well, there's no arguing with that! Mentally, I throw my hands up in the air in exasperation and resignation. Out loud, with a laugh, I say then we'll have to reschedule it for the next afternoon. I was SO prepared, and SO optimistic for how it would go, thinking maybe this would be a breakthrough on working WITH the teachers, on truly integrating the library and creativity with the school and formalities, but then thing after thing got in the way to change things. Kate good-naturedly said this sort of thing always happened at her old job. (Which tells me she'll do fine here as a PCV.)

So, we held it on Friday. Some teachers still didn't show (like the one in particular our HM wanted to benefit from the session), a lot didn't participate in our interactive parts, and almost no one gave feedback as to how the session went. But, we assisted our HM with something she wanted the teachers to work on, AND - one teacher asked "What about my composition notes of lesson? Could you help with that?" So, next teachers' meeting, we will use Miss' grade 3 composition notes of lesson as an additional exercise. That's cool. A step.

We are here to for specific and non-specific reasons. We are here because we feel we can facilitate improvement to not only our specific projects (such as health and education) but living habits and life skills. We are here to explicitly facilitate development in an environment foreign to our one back home. Projects, setbacks and satisfactions like these happen back home, as well, but it seems more vivid here, for some reason.

So I was thinking about it and I decided that besides a passion to help, and technical skills, there are three qualities I feel are most important to be a (good, successful) Peace Corps Volunteer:

1) Flexibility.
2) Diplomacy.
3) Creativity.

They are, as they say down here, "a must." Otherwise, your passion and skills won't mean anything. (An ability to laugh helps, too.)

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.

An Analogy

PC service is like a hammock:

-It’s a pendulum of passing time. At times, you’re close to your goals and objectives, at times, you move farther away.

-Just as if you were trying to grab at something on a nearby table, it requires/demands patience in those times you move away; sometimes it takes a couple strong swings to reach it, sometimes you have to grasp at it inch by inch, bit by bit until your object is acquired.

-You can set things in motion, but it’ll have to carry on itself.

And, it occurs to me, PC service is a lot like Life, too.

Have you been embraced by your hammock today?

Have you embraced your hammock today?

A Lesson in Sensuality

I don’t know if I can exactly explain it, but I’ll try. Sensuality, mind you, not sexuality. Aunt Junita was practicing some kids to do a Heritage celebration that happened today. She’s invited me to come watch them practice, and it was only Monday, passing back from a birthday lunch, that I did. (I think it’s so great that she’s doing this, btw. Yup didn’t do their own Heritage celebration this month and she got some skits and songs together with the help of her daughter.) I caught the end of some skit being done in Makushi that seemed amusing but of course, I didn’t get it. Then four girls get up to practice their song. Shirley, Alisha, around 15; Ena, around 13; and Merisa, around 11, get up to this Caribbean song and basically wine the entire time. But they wine WELL. (Wining, for those of you who don’t know is hip revolutions, mostly done at slow or medium speed). At first, I was just shocked at seeing such confidence and such skill, then I was like “Um, aren’t they a little young to be shaking it that hard?” Then I figure “Oh Guyana…”

But then I’m watching Merisa, who easily was the most skilled of the four – and the youngest. Merisa is in 5^th grade and is a star pupil. With Miss Maisie’s skilled instruction last year, she was one of the students who really participated in drama activities, who definitely was at the top of her class (and Maisie is a thorough teacher with high expectations), who is a regular book-borrower at the library (and actually reads and comprehends the books, not to mention takes care of the books she borrows). Her mother, Rena, who’s been back in the village for a couple months now, was teaching the girls, so I guess it’s easy to see where Merisa gets it from.

Merisa was moving herself in utter skill, comfort and confidence, and in a way that was in no way ostentatious or inappropriate. She wasn’t shaking it in a way that said “Look at me, aren’t I sexy?” it was an “I feel the rhythm and like to dance.” She’s not the kind of girl that would show off or act too big for her britches. She simply was comfortable with her body and confident in her expression. She knows her body can be moved in a beautiful way and knows how to move her body in a beautiful way. I found myself staring at her, attracted to her singing body. Does that sound inappropriate? I don’t mean it to. As a whole, the group’s dancing caught my eye as endearing, if not beautiful and I was quite envious of their skill and confidence. And yeah, a little shocked to see such parading.

So, I was taught that perceiving your body as beautiful is not just about immodesty/showing off, but about being natural. And, if I took enough mental notes, perhaps I was taught how to shake it a little better. ;)

A Two-Way Street

It’s a two-way street, give and take on each end. I’m finally realizing that to teach someone successfully, that person has to be an active part in that. One side can’t plow through something with no feedback, reception, output. Even with a transfer of knowledge /skills, the learner has to aid and abet. Good teachers help make good learners, but good learners also make good teachers.

A concrete example: Adults Night. It’s free adults’ time in the library with the computers. I make the computers (and myself) available but still, the night seems mostly wasted. I think, “I should make it more like a class, fill the time with guided content, because I am not helping or teaching these guys anything new and all they’re doing is watching movies.” But then Maisie comes in, a good teacher, and shows me what an active (and yes, good) learner is. She asks questions, she nods her head in understanding, she tries new things. She pulls out the knowledge and passion from me.

There is so much I could show abut the computers and therefore so much others could learn… but it can’t always just be the teacher dumping on the learner. Meet me halfway, show me what you want to learn, respond to what I am putting out there. I feel fulfilled as a helper and knowledge was definitely shared - tonight, at least.

A Note to My Future Husband:

Only now, after 24 years of living, have I come to most clearly apply and understand the domestic ways of living, and perhaps earn the title of "woman" a little more strongly. I'm sorry you didn't marry someone with a greater head start! Regardless, I think learning and employing the skills NOW as an educated and perhaps semi-liberated woman, I've been able come to a healthy conclusion about the work. As a teenager, I was all about rebellion against gender roles and an equality amongst the sexes. I did no want society to tell me my roles as a woman in a family function or society (that, plus I enjoyed going against the grain). I am still like this in a way - I do still believe in equality, only a different sort of equality, and I still do not do or believe something because the masses say I should. Hopefully this is something you know and perhaps appreciate about me, if not feel the same way. But, I've learned that it's not gender roles, it's spousal roles; ones given by God and should be embraced. I recognize your place as head of our family, and I as a support. The Bible says "She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness." Proverbs 31:27. This is a somewhat separate conversation...

What I mean to get at, is that I will proudly take my role in our family, even if it means as the primary domestic spouse, for two reasons, one being the above spiritual understanding. Secondly, because I've learned of a satisfaction and pride in doing such work. I am proud to develop the skills and consider myself one of billions of women who do so, too, and I understand how important such tasks are to every day living. I know I've taken them, and my mom, for granted at times, never fully understanding the attention it requires. To be able to make the home function in such a seamless way? Masterful! Something to be proud of.

However, it's a thankless job. I don't mean I, or any woman, expect a daily, weekly, monthly thank you, I mean it is a job that's never a "job well done," a job complete. You wash a sinkful of dishes and empty the drain... you gotta wash another sinkful the next day. You scrub, scrub, scrub and get clothes clean... you gotta wash more dirt out of them a week or so later. The relentlessness, no matter how appreciated a woman will feel, is enough to wear her down, make her tired, resent the job some. (Something I've come to learn, at least. Other women will have to affirm or negate this). So a break would be appreciated. I tell you this so you'll know that even though there are roles and acceptance of those roles - whatever they may be - the roles must be fluid, at least at times. That I asking you to help out with the dishes or laundry (or whatever) would not be done out of expecting a marriage of "equality," but a marriage of understanding, partnership.
~Sarah

I don't know if I am expressing myself clearly with this "letter," though I just mean to talk about how I've come to better comprehend the complexities of household management. This stemmed from 1)recognition of the pride I feel doing such tasks and 2) the frustration I also feel at the ongoingness of it all - and this is just for myself! I don't think i could begin to fathom having to do it for a family. The awe at what so many woman (and recognizably, men, too) do on a day to day basis... overwhelms me. A toast to all these women and men. I hope to one day be an accomplished ama de casas (housewife) - among other things.