It has been far too long since my last blog post. Unfortunately, my new permanent location does not have wifi. I know, I know... I joined Peace Corps... I should be living in a small hut in the jungle. When I receive my pitiful stipend, I should have to hide my money all over my house in nooks and cranies, and I should be able to save practically all of it because everything will be so cheap! My laundry should be washed in the river by hand. My toilet should be outside and I should be lugging a bucket 2 miles uphill just for a drink of water (which must be boiled) and a cold bucket bath. I should be sitting out singing kumbaya with my neighbors and fellow friends, dancing to drums and flutes made out of cane, coconuts and jaguar hide. At least, that is what I thought I would be doing for these last six months when I took the leap to board that plane in Miami. I hate to disappoint you, my fellow reader, but that is not what I have been doing. In todays globalizing world, the world is getting smaller and smaller and flooded with plastic, technology and information.
Opposite what you and I imagined my life would be like, I live in a two story home (occupying the 2nd floor), with a nice refrigerator, stove, and water delivered to my kitchen sink by, gasp, a pipe! I also have a washing machine. I do not shower with a bucket, and I do not share my toilet with outdoor creatures. I take a taxi from home to school everyday, and have had my fair share of Coca Cola, beer, Churches Chicken & Popeyes, and Mac & cheese. My neighbors and I listen to music on our phones, text message each other and just to make one aspect of the stereotype true, we do sit on the porch or veranda for hours gaffing or chatting. Now don't get me wrong, Guyana isn't anything like home. I do have many of the same comforts, but that is where the similarities stop.
First off, I am a "coastal" volunteer, so my living situation isn't the same as a hinterland volunteer... I've heard stories of other volunteers living on cassava bread and plantain, of battling tarantulas with machetes and being scared senseless by creepy crawlies bumping about outside of their mosquito nets. The biggest thing that has scared me is a lizard or cricket in my house. Secondly, my home is owned by a lovely Guyanese lady who moved to America and travels back and forth on holidays.. Hence all the appliances... I believe I am one of the only volunteers who doesn't have to hand wash her undies and gasp, has ac. Note it is expensive as hell to use so I try to limit usage to never.
Now, I was going to tell you how else living in the suburbs of Guyana is different from home. First, there are farm animals everywhere, wandering on the roads and in yards. They go where they please and cause havoc on the roads. Have I mentioned that drivers drive like it is a Mario Kart tournament? Several times I have gasped at the things we almost hit... Things being, farm animals, dogs, other cars... Small children and pedestrians. NOTE I have witnessed 3 collisions with cars, bicycles or motorcycles since I've been in Canje(my permanent site).
I did mention that I get water by pipe, but I don't want to dissapoint you, I do have to turn the pipe on to fill the big black tank outside my house every few days, as the water is shut off in the pipes after 6pm. Don't fill the tank? No water = bucket baths. I have stupidly forgotten a few times and had to lug water from outside in. However... Bucket baths are quite refreshing. Also, yes I have a beautiful shower, but I only get hot water once a day, around 2 pm... Why? Because the sun has heated the water in the black tank. What does that mean? 6 am, cold shower. Trust me, the last thing you want at 2pm in Guyana is a hot shower. I never thought I could dread a hot shower so much. The natural question I imagine you are asking is, well why do it? Fact is, Guyana is Hot! You must shower 2-3 times a day or risk smelling, skin infections and sweaty rashes.
I heat my water for coffee every morning in a pot (no microwave or coffee maker) ... The coffee was sent from home... Guyanese drink instant coffee or tea. I feed my cat some Purina, or whatever is in the fridge (hey, peace corps stipend = don't waste). My cat loves chicken and peanutbutter.
Banking? If you come to visit, don't bother looking under the mattress... You will just find fur balls from Bora (my cat). I receive my stipend exactly how I did at home... by autotransfer to a bank account. I take my money out with a plastic card. Granted, if I go on Friday, I will wait in line for an hour to get my money (Friday seems to be payday for everyone). Despite the plastic, Guyana is a cash economy... Meaning you want food, beer or shopping... Gotta get cash out of the ATM.
Now I mentioned thoughts of everything being cheap. All I can say is some things are some things aren't. If it is made or grown in Guyana...like pineapple (omg, the best thing ever), mango, eggplant, squash, peppers Cheap. If its imported from the US (toothpaste, deodorant, shampoo, cheese, cranberry juice), super expensive. Now, actually, its not that bad. If you came to visit, you would probably say wow, affordable! But keep this in mind, you make much more than the average Guyanese and me... $200/ month? I am going with expensive depending on what your situation is. $5 for cheese with only $200 a month is a luxury... $6 lunch at chicken, cereal, some chocolates... These are luxury items. They rarely go in my shopping cart. Mostly, I eat peanut butter sandwiches, peanutbutter crackers, things I can fry (plantain or potatoes), eggs, or things made from flour. I am getting good at homemade tortillas, pizza crust, bake (Guyanese, its like fried dough but not sweet), and making rice, vegetables.
so before I sign off for now, one other difference from home (not the Cape I grew up in..the cape of the 80's is different)... I know my neighbors. I think I knew a handful of neighbors when I moved off the cape. In Guyana, we gaff & lime (talk & hang out). They bring me guyanese food or fruits from their trees, and I make them pizza or granola. They check in on me when I am sick and give me popsicles. They make it a point to ask me about my day, what I did and how I'm finding Guyana. They would never hit the ignore button on their cell phone if i called and they were busy. They ask me about my family and beliefs in "moral" issues with genuine interest. They respect my opinion, even if they disagree, and are not afraid to admit when I have shown them a new idea that they discover like. I have seen guyanese reach into their pockets to hand the homeless men or women some money, or what is left of their food or drink. I have seen children with rotted teeth smile and laugh in school rooms that would shock New Englanders by their simplicity: with open chalkboard walls concept, no technology in site and handmade beautiful learning aids covered in plastic or laminated with packing tape.
So you may be wondering, I have all of these wonderful comforts of home... Why is peace corps and other organizations here? The operative word is "I" and my america living landlord. Most guyanese don't live like this. i just got lucky in housing. A fellow volunteer was just today telling me how she hadn't showered in weeks, as she had to bucket bath. I was serious when I mentioned some volunteers were living on cassava and plantain diet. I think my experience is interesting... Volunteers hear me mention washing machine & ac and they suddenly become silent, and a look of longing crosses their face (I learned quickly to keep quiet). I think in some convaluted way, my housing situation compared to most volunteers is an analogy for life in the developing world. Imagine you lived in a small one room house, with no running water or indoor toilet, and were barely making ends meet and feeding your children or able to buy a tooth brush to keep your Childs teeth from rotting... And your neighbor had ac and a washing machine. Our PC group is experiencing disparities in housing which is making quite an interesting situation when we gather together to gaff. however, I have heard few complaints from my good friends... We signed up for the pre-Miami departure date peace corps... Any extras is just bonus.
Now back to the Guyanese experience, this situation with your neighbor is reality. Some have money and US standard comforts... But most and i mean majority don't. I got a washing machine, my best friend didn't.
A Guyanese once explained to me that yes, they have infrastructure and many have comforts, but it doesn't make up for the fact that healthcare, education and social issues are not up to the same standards. Guyana has an extremely low literacy rate, and one of, if not the highest suicide rates per capita in the world. As I mentioned, there is economic disparity, poverty & homelessness, gender and sexual identity inequality and also domestic violence. You can pump countries in developing worlds full of money, infrastructure (hospitals, schools etc) ipads, designer sunglasses and sport cars, but that doesn't change the fact that there are some serious issues behind the scenes. I think the real benefit is to send teachers and people who care and that is why I believe in organizations like peace corps, doctors without borders, vso etc. I like the old proverb: give a man a fish and eats for a day... Teach a man to fish, and you have fed him for life. You need educated doctors, teachers, mechanics, computer technicians, engineers, and people to fill these hospitals and schools, and to maintain the roads and structures being built. When WiFi goes down, who are you going to call? Don't get me wrong, donating is good, but education is better... So keep donating!
To sum it up, going back to the analogy... I have an indoor toilet, but not all of us have the indoor toilets. There is a lot of work to do and having ac or indoor toilet doesn't make up for it ... It certainly helps... But having healthcare, education and the capacity and support to care for your family and improve your lot in life makes you beyond financially wealthy. Put it this way, education is invaluable.
You can give a kid a toothbrush, but unless you show him how to use it, he'll probably use it as target practice. And if you do show him how to use it without explaining how to make a new toothbrush out of local materials, once it is lost or broken, your effort is wasted. Teach a kid how to use a toothbrush, how to make new ones and WHY brushing your teeth is important... He will keep doing it and have healthy teeth which will lead to better health and standard of living ( better diet, less chance of disease and infection etc.). He will also either teach others (his family & future children) or others will see him with nice teeth and ask him how his teeth are so nice... And he will model it for the community. He may start asking other questions about his health and make other observations- he may decide he likes teaching about dental hygiene in his community and strive to go to dental school. Point is, the possibilities are endless with education and knowledge. (NOTE you should probably teach about toothpaste too while you are at it.)
Now, back to me, because hey, this is my blog... even if I had to squattypotty with spiders, Guyana would be wonderful because of the people I have met... The fresh pineapples and mangos help too. I strongly recommend you get down here and experience Guyanese people, culture and beautiful sites! Waterfalls, birds, savannah, palm trees, black water and sun! Winter is coming. Reminder: Guyana only has heat. I'll be here for 21 more months.
**please pardon typos and spelling... As I mentioned, no WiFi, so I'm typing this on my ittybitty phone using data. No time or money spell check.
* my opinion... Not the us government or peace corps
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
MUST READ
Monday, June 29, 2015
Cultural Sensitivity 101
There are so many cultural practices
and taboos here that some days, I really wish I had a rule book. I
never really thought too much if my behavior was offensive to another
person, because I believe that I am conditioned to behave within the
bounds of the culture I grew up in. I know the do's and the don't s,
and the appropriate and inappropriate and it is second nature to
me... but when you travel to another country you can pretty much
throw many of your own rules and norms out the window.
I will give you one big example, as I
found myself making some cultural faux paus when it comes to this
subject. Luckily, I am living with quite a wonderful, amazing,
understanding and PATIENT host family. The subject is the birth of a
new child. My host brother's girlfriend had a baby and she has moved
in with us for a few weeks. At home, as with anywhere in the world, I
assume, the birth of a new baby is a special and happy time. This is
naturally also the case here in Guyana. However, at home, at least in
my family, as I can't speak for every religion or ethnic group in the
US as there is so much diversity... I can only speak to my own
experiences, and in my own experience, there really aren't many rules
when it comes to introducing the new baby to the world... maybe good
etiquette is to bring a gift if you weren't at the shower, to use
hand sanitizer and to make sure you are not sick around the baby for
obvious reasons, but that is really all I can come up with. Here in
Guyana, there are many rules that deal with the health of the baby
and the health of the baby's soul. I will tell you eleven of
them that my host family told me, many of which, out of complete
ignorance, I have accidentally broken. Again, I have a wonderful and
understanding host family and am hoping that the spirits here will
forgive me and not take it out on this poor child! These rules are in
effect for the first NINE days of the child's life, as it is believed
that in the first nine days, the child is the most vulnerable... I
(and many doctors) would probably agree with this sentiment in
connection to its physical well being. After nine days, the rules are
no longer in effect. So here goes... disclaimer: note that
this is an abridged version and simply what I have picked up from
conversation or observation of just a handful of families, Guyana is
extremely diverse with Christianity, Hinduism, Muslim, Rastafarian
etc. There is definitely more explanation and tradition, and probably
more rules across religions, that I can not even begin to understand
as I have only been here for a few months:
- If you are menstruating: no holding the baby or sitting on the bed the baby sleeps on, otherwise, the baby will get crusty eyes that are glued shut.
- A broom must be placed by the entrance to the house.
- No one is to see the baby who is not immediate family [I am considered family, so I can see and hold the baby whenever I want!]... but my friend came over to bring me a Popsicle (a super special treat in this climate) and she saw the baby... rule broken...
- No one is to come in the house after 6PM, otherwise spirits who follow you home can hurt the baby as its soul is still vulnerable... I wasn't aware of this rule, so I came home the other night at 9PM... I had to walk through the door backwards to face the spirits that followed me and to tell the spirits to go away...
- The baby isn't named for nine days – I kept asking the baby's name when I first saw him...
- A dot (eye) is placed on the baby's brow to protect it from bad mouth (gossip and evil)... I asked why he had a dot and for about one second before it was explained, considered trying to wipe it off. Oops.
- Something about the fridge... standing right next to the fridge, the mother called me over and asked me to open the fridge for her because she couldn't – still trying to figure this one out... maybe it has to do with the cold. Guyana is HOT and sudden cold may do something.
- The baby needs to spend a few minutes in direct sunlight each day. The immediate thing that popped in my mind was the baby sun cages that stuck out of the windows from the olden days... Google it. I was given the baby to stand in the direct sunlight and he cried... we lasted about 20 seconds.
- Baby needs to be burped... wait, I knew this rule!!!!! score one for me!
- You can not go to a wake or funeral when there is a baby in your house, as the spirit of the dead will follow you home... which is very bad, again because the baby's soul is vulnerable.
- After nine days, there is a baby shower end the baby is named. It is a huge celebration and you can bring a gift or money for the baby.
So some of you may laugh at these baby
rules as they seem silly and foreign. As I am trying to be honest in
these blog posts, I will tell you that, I did at first giggle in awe;
they were simply so different from anything I have ever heard that I
thought they were a joke. But they are not. I realized that when I
hear these stories and rules (remember I mentioned the Baccu in an
earlier post... many people have told me they have legit had one), I
needed to keep in mind that they are legitimate to my host country
and taken very seriously. It would be pure disrespect to know the
rules and willingly break them, or to make fun of them (and I don't
just mean the baby rules, there are so many other customs and
superstitions). Going back to my own culture and beliefs, respect is
one of the most important values to Americans, so while I may or may
not believe in these “rules”, it is out of respect that I will
adhere to them and not judge.
To put it another way, Guyanese have a
rich and beautiful blend of superstition, folklore, religious beliefs
and tradition. In Guyana, folklore, superstition and traditions
explain every day occurrences and history. We Americans also have
many superstitions, traditions and beliefs to explain things that a
Guyanese, or person from another culture may find strange or silly...
11:11 make a wish... rain on wedding days... blowing out candles and
making a wish that you don't tell to anyone! Groundhogs day, rabbit
rabbit day. Another example, Halloween... We dress up scary, silly
or... gulp, slutty... and send our children parading down the street
IN THE DARK asking our neighbors for candy. Mind you that all too
often, with our busy lives, we often don't even know many of our
neighbors that we are sending our children to, oftentimes alone...
THIS IS CRAZY. But we do it... it has been a tradition for decades
and we love it and believe our children should experience it.
I will leave you with this thought when
thinking about cultural sensitivity, values and norms... Imagine
this: a 31 year old unmarried and childless woman left her family
home at 18. She went to college, traveled to Chile at 21, got
a job that paid money, lived on her own for 13 years
(with female AND male roommates), and then one day, she up
and left her family, friends and country for two years. To
you, some aspect of this story may be your own in some way or
another, and you won't even blink twice when you hear this story, and
may be wondering why I am even mentioning it. But to some people in
the country she is now living in, or for that matter, in the majority
of countries around the world, they may see her story as crazy,
completely foreign and silly. However, despite these sentiments, she
and many like her are still welcomed with open arms and love all over
the world. Peace Corps.
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Monday, June 1, 2015
Story Time
The power of a story
When you wish upon a star,
of magic lands and fairy dust,
sleeping princesses, good and evil.
Seven dwarfs, midnight rides,
sailing the 7 seas, and killer bees.
Pirates! Rrrrrrr, my booty. You: walk the plank!
Flying elephants, flying boys: bang-a-rang!
Shadows lost, magic bean stalks and angry dragons.
Under the sea, Kingdom of Atlantis,
talking monkeys, crying Giants,
chocolate factories: Oompa Loompa,
I have another puzzle for you.
I do believe in fairies, I do, I do!
Weepy princess kissing frogs,
I tell a lie my nose will grow.
Miracles and mean girls who gaff.
Witches who eat children;
children who are heroes.
Rodents of unusual size,
as you wish.
Poison apples and magic beans,
houses made of sweets.
Emperors, kings and pharaohs:
distant lands, around the world...
Down the rabbit hole,
Tick tock, tick tock:
we're all a little mad.
True love's kiss, chockey chockey: don't be bad.
Tricks and treats, spells and tales
overcoming feats and fears.
Monsters who smile and inspire.
Love stories to make you cry;
silly stories to make you laugh;
adventures that make you brave.
A Cat in a Hat; a tortoise and a hare;
A Sleeping Beauty.
My best friends: Alice, Ramona, Jack, Charlie, Harry and Peter Pan.
A Magic School Bus;
a mirror on the wall,
Humpy dumpty had a great fall.
Princess Bride... meet a Princess and a Pea.
Whistle while you work,
parties, masquerades and dancing shoes.
The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe.
A Journey to the Center of The Earth, a Jungle Book.
A maiden as white as snow,
One with hair as yellow as corn silk.
Rapunzel, Matilda, Ariel, Buttercup and Beezus too.
A Big Friendly Giant.
Oh, the places you will go.
Neverland, Wonderland, Oz, Hogwarts and Narnia.
A far off place, away from here,
Where the Wild Things Are:
Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!
I wrote this after talking to a teacher about how most kids don't want to read because it is like a chore and boring... I wanted to emphasize to kids that reading is anything but boring. Try reading to a kid and ask him or her to close their eyes and just let their imagination go.
When you wish upon a star,
of magic lands and fairy dust,
sleeping princesses, good and evil.
Seven dwarfs, midnight rides,
sailing the 7 seas, and killer bees.
Pirates! Rrrrrrr, my booty. You: walk the plank!
Flying elephants, flying boys: bang-a-rang!
Shadows lost, magic bean stalks and angry dragons.
Under the sea, Kingdom of Atlantis,
talking monkeys, crying Giants,
chocolate factories: Oompa Loompa,
I have another puzzle for you.
I do believe in fairies, I do, I do!
Weepy princess kissing frogs,
I tell a lie my nose will grow.
Miracles and mean girls who gaff.
Witches who eat children;
children who are heroes.
Rodents of unusual size,
as you wish.
Poison apples and magic beans,
houses made of sweets.
Emperors, kings and pharaohs:
distant lands, around the world...
Down the rabbit hole,
Tick tock, tick tock:
we're all a little mad.
True love's kiss, chockey chockey: don't be bad.
Tricks and treats, spells and tales
overcoming feats and fears.
Monsters who smile and inspire.
Love stories to make you cry;
silly stories to make you laugh;
adventures that make you brave.
A Cat in a Hat; a tortoise and a hare;
A Sleeping Beauty.
My best friends: Alice, Ramona, Jack, Charlie, Harry and Peter Pan.
A Magic School Bus;
a mirror on the wall,
Humpy dumpty had a great fall.
Princess Bride... meet a Princess and a Pea.
Whistle while you work,
parties, masquerades and dancing shoes.
The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe.
A Journey to the Center of The Earth, a Jungle Book.
A maiden as white as snow,
One with hair as yellow as corn silk.
Rapunzel, Matilda, Ariel, Buttercup and Beezus too.
A Big Friendly Giant.
Oh, the places you will go.
Neverland, Wonderland, Oz, Hogwarts and Narnia.
A far off place, away from here,
Where the Wild Things Are:
Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!
I wrote this after talking to a teacher about how most kids don't want to read because it is like a chore and boring... I wanted to emphasize to kids that reading is anything but boring. Try reading to a kid and ask him or her to close their eyes and just let their imagination go.
Saturday, May 23, 2015
The book of honesty
Be honest with yourself
This was a tough week for me in my Peace Corps journey. It wasn't tough because I slept on a hard mattress. It wasn't tough because I took a cold shower. It wasn't tough because I ate strange food for lunch. And it wasn't tough sweating out anything I took in for most of the day. These are all things that can be overcome. 27 months from now I won't think much of the cold showers, the food, or the few nights it took to get used to my mattress. What was hard was talking about diversity within my own community, and reflecting on my own stereotypes. You see, in order to understand how best to interact locally and share my culture, The Peace Corps approach is for us to understand where we are coming from and our understanding of identity. We watched a video that really made me think about my beliefs about identity and culture. The video was a TED Talk with Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, a Nigerian writer who discusses the dangers of a single story. The "single story" is what we see in the news, read in books or watch in movies. The single stories are the stereotypes that we see over and over again, take in, and come to believe as truth. Chimamanda recognizes that we are impressionable and vulnerable as children. She tells a story of her families house boy. Her mother tells her over and over how poor his family is; they send leftover food, hand me down clothes, and are told constantly not to waste as his family has nothing. One day, she goes to visit the house boy's family and is blown away by the love in his home and the intricate beautifully colored reed baskets in his home. Yes he was financially poor, but he was not poor in love and beauty. Her single story of him was that he was poor, and she couldn't see beyond his poverty and thus feeling sorry for him.
I like to think that I am an open, accepting and educated person who sees beauty in small things, the glass is always half full, and there is always goodness in everyone. But after listening to Chimamanda's story, I realized that this description is not entirely true. I have many single stories of cultures and of the world. A good friend shared a quote by St. Augustine with me as I was beating myself up while contemplating how I could have been sucked into some of the stereotypes: "The world is a book, and those who do not travel, see only one page." Growing up, I was not exposed to much diversity (race, religion, ethnicity, sexual orientation) in my small community. As a result, my understanding of these identities did not come from human to human interaction, but from "second hand intake"... television, news, movies, books, newspapers, text books in school, stories from friends, neighbors and family. My knowledge of diversity and what it meant to be of another identity was swayed by many factors, the majority of which were not from first hand experience, observation or communication. My point of connection to people of various backgrounds was from these instances of "second hand intake". When someone says to me, "I am gay" or "French" or "Muslim" etc. I cannot help but visualize the "index card in my brain" that holds all of the stories and my points of reference... I had limited first hand experience, so naturally, I was susceptible to some of the stereotypes that I had encountered. It is now, as an adult, that I must challenge these stereotypes and ideas of what race, religion, ethnicity and sexual orientation are, to formulate my own personal beliefs.
I think that recognizing, and being honest with myself that "yes, I am human and susceptible to some of these stereotypes we have all heard", is the first step towards true acceptance. How was I to know reality, without experiencing it? I haven't been to every square foot of the world, I haven't talked to the 7 billion people on this earth to get their story. At 31, Peace Corps is the starting point to reevaluate what I think I know and to create my own story of the world. Never did I imagine that Peace Corps would lead me to challenge the foundations of my beliefs and would open my mind and eyes to my own prejudices as it has. I am challenging myself that when I meet someone for the first time, to let it all go... to not think of the one page of the book or about the single story I have come to know about them, but to get to know their full story.
Peace corps: 1 month down, 26 to go.
If you would like to hear Chimamanda's story (I hope you do!!):
http://www.ted.com/talks/chimamanda_adichie_the_danger_of_a_single_story?language=en
This was a tough week for me in my Peace Corps journey. It wasn't tough because I slept on a hard mattress. It wasn't tough because I took a cold shower. It wasn't tough because I ate strange food for lunch. And it wasn't tough sweating out anything I took in for most of the day. These are all things that can be overcome. 27 months from now I won't think much of the cold showers, the food, or the few nights it took to get used to my mattress. What was hard was talking about diversity within my own community, and reflecting on my own stereotypes. You see, in order to understand how best to interact locally and share my culture, The Peace Corps approach is for us to understand where we are coming from and our understanding of identity. We watched a video that really made me think about my beliefs about identity and culture. The video was a TED Talk with Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, a Nigerian writer who discusses the dangers of a single story. The "single story" is what we see in the news, read in books or watch in movies. The single stories are the stereotypes that we see over and over again, take in, and come to believe as truth. Chimamanda recognizes that we are impressionable and vulnerable as children. She tells a story of her families house boy. Her mother tells her over and over how poor his family is; they send leftover food, hand me down clothes, and are told constantly not to waste as his family has nothing. One day, she goes to visit the house boy's family and is blown away by the love in his home and the intricate beautifully colored reed baskets in his home. Yes he was financially poor, but he was not poor in love and beauty. Her single story of him was that he was poor, and she couldn't see beyond his poverty and thus feeling sorry for him.
I like to think that I am an open, accepting and educated person who sees beauty in small things, the glass is always half full, and there is always goodness in everyone. But after listening to Chimamanda's story, I realized that this description is not entirely true. I have many single stories of cultures and of the world. A good friend shared a quote by St. Augustine with me as I was beating myself up while contemplating how I could have been sucked into some of the stereotypes: "The world is a book, and those who do not travel, see only one page." Growing up, I was not exposed to much diversity (race, religion, ethnicity, sexual orientation) in my small community. As a result, my understanding of these identities did not come from human to human interaction, but from "second hand intake"... television, news, movies, books, newspapers, text books in school, stories from friends, neighbors and family. My knowledge of diversity and what it meant to be of another identity was swayed by many factors, the majority of which were not from first hand experience, observation or communication. My point of connection to people of various backgrounds was from these instances of "second hand intake". When someone says to me, "I am gay" or "French" or "Muslim" etc. I cannot help but visualize the "index card in my brain" that holds all of the stories and my points of reference... I had limited first hand experience, so naturally, I was susceptible to some of the stereotypes that I had encountered. It is now, as an adult, that I must challenge these stereotypes and ideas of what race, religion, ethnicity and sexual orientation are, to formulate my own personal beliefs.
I think that recognizing, and being honest with myself that "yes, I am human and susceptible to some of these stereotypes we have all heard", is the first step towards true acceptance. How was I to know reality, without experiencing it? I haven't been to every square foot of the world, I haven't talked to the 7 billion people on this earth to get their story. At 31, Peace Corps is the starting point to reevaluate what I think I know and to create my own story of the world. Never did I imagine that Peace Corps would lead me to challenge the foundations of my beliefs and would open my mind and eyes to my own prejudices as it has. I am challenging myself that when I meet someone for the first time, to let it all go... to not think of the one page of the book or about the single story I have come to know about them, but to get to know their full story.
Peace corps: 1 month down, 26 to go.
If you would like to hear Chimamanda's story (I hope you do!!):
http://www.ted.com/talks/chimamanda_adichie_the_danger_of_a_single_story?language=en
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Where does one begin at the start of a new adventure? Flying from Miami, to Trinidad, and then, finally, after 9 years of waiting for myself to be ready for my Peace Corps time, I saw the flickering lights of my new home in the dark night... Guyana! As I walked off the plane and down the steps to my new adventure, the first thing that hit me was the heat! Passing through customs, grabbing my two 50 lbs bags, and making my way out the door I am greeted with loud cheers and hugs of welcome from the Peace Corps staff and a few current volunteers already serving. Dripping in sweat I can't help but smile. We are handed cake that very easily could be sliced off of a Shaw's bakery cake, and a delicious Caesar chicken salad for the ride to our hotel (it is well after 10). Packed into buses we head out... On the wrong side of the road! Yes, in my searching for any piece of information over the last few months, I forgot that Guyana was once a British colony, and hence, according to U.S. Americans, they too drive on the "wrong" side of the road. The buses whip quickly in and out of traffic, whizzing by slower vehicles, bikers and pedestrians. Our driver, also Peace Corps staff, points out land marks as we travel on; the national stadium for Cricket and football (not to be confused with American football); horses, stray dogs, farm animals, beautiful and elegantly designed temples and houses that look like doll houses, el dorado rum (we were told Guyana has the best rum in the word, as it is produced with natural brown sugarcane. We arrive at the hotel and it is a few small buildings with 2 floors. My roommate and I have a large room with a fan, toilet and our own shower. We soon acquire a third roommate that we decided not to kill... A dragonfly the size of my hand. We figure s/he is harmless, praying that dragonflies in the U.S. Are similar to Guyana dragonflies. It is beyond hot and I have trouble sleeping because of many reasons... New country, leaving home, heat, nervous about the Mosquitos flying in through the open window, anticipation, trying to remember my 43 fellow peace corps trainee names... Plus staff we have just been introduced to. I watch the clock tick by, 1:30, 2:45; 3:50, finally to fall into a slumber... Cooooookooooo cooookoooo cooookoooo coookoooo. 4:30 am and the rooster is crowing. I fall asleep and wake up for my alarm to go off at 6. We bring our bags outside for 6:30, and a group of Guyanese come out of their homes to see what the commotion is. Click click go their cameras as they take pictures of the group of "white peoples" standing in the street. We wave and smile, uncomfortable at being the center of attention, most of us having never stood out because of something so simple as the color of our skin. Click click, point point. Wave and smile.
We travel to breakfast and there are eggs, toast, chicken sausage, a shredded salmon fish, which I bravely tried, although I don't like salmon...determined that I still don't! We drive over the demarra river via a floating bridge that is literally floating on the water. I spy a few bright red specks whizzing through the air and my first thought is, "kites?"... But nope, they are birds! We continue down the road past houses on stilts, some ornately decorated, all in bright colors like purple, blue, and orange. Everyone is walking down the road, which is shared by buses, cars, bikes, motorcycles, scooters, horse or donkey carts, cows and goats, stray dogs and of course Guyanese walking. We continue on to Parika and wait for a few hours to board the ferry to cross the Essequibo River, the largest in Guyana. A group of current volunteers are waiting for us and give us words of encouragement and advice. My first view of the Essequibo is shock and makes me a little homesick as the river reminds me of the chocolate milk I would get with my family Sunday after church. The river is huge, but I think I can see to the other side... But am quickly corrected and told that I am only seeing an Island. The Essequibo is twelve miles across and takes an hour and a half to cross... One of the islands is larger than Barbados. The ferry is crowded with cars, men, women and children, all looking on at the group of foreigners with interest. I have interesting conversations with my fellow trainees ( we are trainees until we are sworn in as volunteers). I have my first awkward bathroom experience as the toilet on the ferry has no seat... I quickly discover that there is no modesty in Peace Corps as we commiserate and share our bathroom experiences thus far. We carry on our journey and reach Mainstay Lake Resort in Essequibo Region. Our lodging reminds me of camping in girl scouts or camp... A cabin, with separate rooms With Mosquito nets and A/C! Over the next few days we have fish, so much chicken cooked every way possible, "salad" comprised of cabbage and carrots, potato salad, fried plantain, fish fry, watermelon and pineapple, Chinese food, curry, mashed potato, cakes including with cassava flower, coffee, and juice of every tropical flavor imaginable: guava, cherry, pineapple, coconut water.
We are split into groups and travel to a site visit. The first is to a rural Amerindian community in Tapacuma where we met the village chief, known as the Tachou ( pronounced ta-shou), a woman who was a retired nurse and currently farming growing pineapple, cassava and peanuts. Her farm is a long walk through mud and as we dressed professionally, we are all wearing skirts or nice pants and shoes, and we pour sweat on the walk, but the sites are amazing... Flowers, woods, a woman doing laundry Guyanese style, blue butterflies, little lizards, and more dragonflies as big as my pointer finger. Tachou has inspired other women in her village (25) to start farming and selling their products on market day to become more self sufficient. Tachou tells a story that reminds me of my parents and I instantly feel a kinship with her, talking about her role as a mother educating her sons and giving them the tools they need to strive and be productive members of their community rather than hiding the "mysteries" of the world from them and letting them engage in dangerous behavior because they simply aren't educated, issues like, alcoholism, drugs, peer pressure, reproduction, etc. She said educating the youth gives them the tools they need to stay safe but unfortunately they often won't listen to her, so she wants Peace Corps help... She said "I tell me kids when de be growing up de ask momme and I tell dem any-ting" . She feeds us Chana (sp?)- chick peas mashed with what I think is onions, peppers, maybe garlic and other spices... I think it is my favorite thing so far!! Of course she gives us water from a bottle as we are out from our walk. We are told to never drink water from the tap, rainwater from the roof, or streams... (We are taught how to purify water the next day). We say our goodbyes and are given hugs.
We travel on to Anna Regina, a coastal, larger town similar to a city... But not an American city with sky scrapers... I have yet to see one of these and am pretty sure there are none. The biggest building I saw so far is a wooden schoolhouse with 3 floors. Anna Regina has all the comforts of home: supermarket, restaurants, fire house, small health clinic, outdoor market, Main Street, houses, military base, and of course, minibuses!
The following day is lessons lessons lessons! At night we eat dinner al fresco on the lake, BBQ chicken and Mac and cheese, and a huge Bon fire is built - not quite as big as St. Mike's senior week Bon fire but pretty darn tall. We are taught local songs, dance around the fire to Saco music and of course, to my excitement, Bob Marley songs! We learn that Guyana songs of independence are Bob Marley's "redemption song" and also "over the hills of Babylon" (not sure of author).
We are told some folklore that makes us scared to sleep at night.
The story of the Baku: the Baku lives in the latrine and to keep it happy, you feed it banana and milk every day. The Baku is an ugly little thing about 2 feet tall, it's head bigger than its body. If you don't feed the Baku, it will break your neck. People can send a Baku your way if they don't like you.
Fish fry: one night this mother goes out to a party and leaves her 3 year old baby all alone. A neighbor sees an ugly demon come to the door offering fish fry "fish fry fish fry, you want de fish fry?" , the neighbor screams "Jesus Christ Jesus Christ in the demons face and he leaves to the next neighbor... " "fish fry fish fry, you want de fish fry?" The neighbor starts praying and screaming Jesus' name in the demons face, and the demon leaves her be. The next morning the mother comes home and finds her baby dead. It ate the fish fry. Don't ever eat fish fry at night from anyone... And moral of the story: don't party and be irresponsible because bad things happen. Note we have had fish fry for breakfast and lunch, but not dinner so far.
Also, if you are out partying, you always walk through the door backwards to tell the ghosts and evil following you to go home. Finally, put 2 cups of rice at your doorstep because the demons will get distracted and will count the rice instead of come in your house.
I love Guyana!
We travel to breakfast and there are eggs, toast, chicken sausage, a shredded salmon fish, which I bravely tried, although I don't like salmon...determined that I still don't! We drive over the demarra river via a floating bridge that is literally floating on the water. I spy a few bright red specks whizzing through the air and my first thought is, "kites?"... But nope, they are birds! We continue down the road past houses on stilts, some ornately decorated, all in bright colors like purple, blue, and orange. Everyone is walking down the road, which is shared by buses, cars, bikes, motorcycles, scooters, horse or donkey carts, cows and goats, stray dogs and of course Guyanese walking. We continue on to Parika and wait for a few hours to board the ferry to cross the Essequibo River, the largest in Guyana. A group of current volunteers are waiting for us and give us words of encouragement and advice. My first view of the Essequibo is shock and makes me a little homesick as the river reminds me of the chocolate milk I would get with my family Sunday after church. The river is huge, but I think I can see to the other side... But am quickly corrected and told that I am only seeing an Island. The Essequibo is twelve miles across and takes an hour and a half to cross... One of the islands is larger than Barbados. The ferry is crowded with cars, men, women and children, all looking on at the group of foreigners with interest. I have interesting conversations with my fellow trainees ( we are trainees until we are sworn in as volunteers). I have my first awkward bathroom experience as the toilet on the ferry has no seat... I quickly discover that there is no modesty in Peace Corps as we commiserate and share our bathroom experiences thus far. We carry on our journey and reach Mainstay Lake Resort in Essequibo Region. Our lodging reminds me of camping in girl scouts or camp... A cabin, with separate rooms With Mosquito nets and A/C! Over the next few days we have fish, so much chicken cooked every way possible, "salad" comprised of cabbage and carrots, potato salad, fried plantain, fish fry, watermelon and pineapple, Chinese food, curry, mashed potato, cakes including with cassava flower, coffee, and juice of every tropical flavor imaginable: guava, cherry, pineapple, coconut water.
We are split into groups and travel to a site visit. The first is to a rural Amerindian community in Tapacuma where we met the village chief, known as the Tachou ( pronounced ta-shou), a woman who was a retired nurse and currently farming growing pineapple, cassava and peanuts. Her farm is a long walk through mud and as we dressed professionally, we are all wearing skirts or nice pants and shoes, and we pour sweat on the walk, but the sites are amazing... Flowers, woods, a woman doing laundry Guyanese style, blue butterflies, little lizards, and more dragonflies as big as my pointer finger. Tachou has inspired other women in her village (25) to start farming and selling their products on market day to become more self sufficient. Tachou tells a story that reminds me of my parents and I instantly feel a kinship with her, talking about her role as a mother educating her sons and giving them the tools they need to strive and be productive members of their community rather than hiding the "mysteries" of the world from them and letting them engage in dangerous behavior because they simply aren't educated, issues like, alcoholism, drugs, peer pressure, reproduction, etc. She said educating the youth gives them the tools they need to stay safe but unfortunately they often won't listen to her, so she wants Peace Corps help... She said "I tell me kids when de be growing up de ask momme and I tell dem any-ting" . She feeds us Chana (sp?)- chick peas mashed with what I think is onions, peppers, maybe garlic and other spices... I think it is my favorite thing so far!! Of course she gives us water from a bottle as we are out from our walk. We are told to never drink water from the tap, rainwater from the roof, or streams... (We are taught how to purify water the next day). We say our goodbyes and are given hugs.
We travel on to Anna Regina, a coastal, larger town similar to a city... But not an American city with sky scrapers... I have yet to see one of these and am pretty sure there are none. The biggest building I saw so far is a wooden schoolhouse with 3 floors. Anna Regina has all the comforts of home: supermarket, restaurants, fire house, small health clinic, outdoor market, Main Street, houses, military base, and of course, minibuses!
The following day is lessons lessons lessons! At night we eat dinner al fresco on the lake, BBQ chicken and Mac and cheese, and a huge Bon fire is built - not quite as big as St. Mike's senior week Bon fire but pretty darn tall. We are taught local songs, dance around the fire to Saco music and of course, to my excitement, Bob Marley songs! We learn that Guyana songs of independence are Bob Marley's "redemption song" and also "over the hills of Babylon" (not sure of author).
We are told some folklore that makes us scared to sleep at night.
The story of the Baku: the Baku lives in the latrine and to keep it happy, you feed it banana and milk every day. The Baku is an ugly little thing about 2 feet tall, it's head bigger than its body. If you don't feed the Baku, it will break your neck. People can send a Baku your way if they don't like you.
Fish fry: one night this mother goes out to a party and leaves her 3 year old baby all alone. A neighbor sees an ugly demon come to the door offering fish fry "fish fry fish fry, you want de fish fry?" , the neighbor screams "Jesus Christ Jesus Christ in the demons face and he leaves to the next neighbor... " "fish fry fish fry, you want de fish fry?" The neighbor starts praying and screaming Jesus' name in the demons face, and the demon leaves her be. The next morning the mother comes home and finds her baby dead. It ate the fish fry. Don't ever eat fish fry at night from anyone... And moral of the story: don't party and be irresponsible because bad things happen. Note we have had fish fry for breakfast and lunch, but not dinner so far.
Also, if you are out partying, you always walk through the door backwards to tell the ghosts and evil following you to go home. Finally, put 2 cups of rice at your doorstep because the demons will get distracted and will count the rice instead of come in your house.
I love Guyana!
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