Friday, December 18, 2015

A thought on normalcy

Sometimes I forget that I am here, here in Guyana. My routine and my life has mutated so far from what it was 9 months ago, but despite this, my life here now seems normal to me. I wake up and go about my morning: rolling out of my mosquito net, greeting my cat with a morning hug, pouring water out of my filter into a pot to boil for coffee. I timidly step into my cold shower, sometimes brown murky water pouring out of the PVC pipe, but I step under anyways. My feet trample through the cane dust that gathered onto my floor, the pads of my feet eternally black. I cover my body in bug spray and baby powder, ready to face the heat, sweat and mosquitos. Most days after work, I swing in my hammock just staring into the sky, watching the palms of a coconut tree blowing. I see yellow kiskadees in the breadfruit tree and goats hopping my fence to eat my grass and drink out of my dogs water bowl, and this has become my normal. Lizards and beetles crawling on my walls, frogs coming out of my water tank, and trash burning on the side of the road, it does not phase me as exceptional or unbelievable anymore, it just is what it is. I literally have to remind myself that I am living in Guyana in a developing country, and that this wasn't my normal for 30 years.

But in the grand scheme of life, my perceived normal in Guyana will never be my Guyanese friends normal, just as American culture, acceptances or prejudices, ethics, laws, morals & norms are not the normal of the rest of the world. It is so easy to forget this. After nine months I got comfortable and complacent and settled into a new normal. Talking to my neighbor tonight, about how her employer didn't give out BACK pay as they usually do at the end of the year, because there simply isn't any money to go round, she said to me... "What can you do... You just go to work and hope for the best". I almost said to her, "well in America, this would never happen... There are laws protecting workers... " But my brain put on the brakes and shut off thankfully. Guyana is not America. What good would it do to compare the two and tell her about these laws? She won't get her money or change the laws overnight, and it won't make anything better. I can't get her a plane to America to get her a new American normal. Her normal is living day to day and all I can do is listen and be there for her.

One quirck in the universe that really brings this idea home is that I have a "luxury" that most of my new friends and neighbors do not have. If I suddenly grow to hate the blackouts and loathe the cold showers, or if I catch Malaria or have some injury or other illness, there is always a plane, advanced medical care and endless hot showers just a phone call away just for me. I have an out. I can go back to my café mocha from Starbucks, driving on the right hand side of the road, enjoying a craft beer on trivia Thursday, and waking up to 800 channels on the television. But when I go home, my new Guyanese friends will still be here, with the blackouts, cold showers and lizards. When I go home, my friend will still be working 8 hour days for $2000 Guyanese per day... Translation, TEN US dollars a day, or let me break it down some more...$1.25 per hour. Remind me the minimum wage in the US? This is her normal, this is her reality... There is no plane that will take her to the land of chain restaurants, Amendments and hot water at the drop of a hat.

This conversation reminded me that my little Peace Corps Volunteer bubble is far from reality. No matter how comfortable or integrated I feel or become here, in 18 months, or tomorrow if I crack, there is a plane waiting for me. I hope that when I go back to America at the end of this journey that I take with me the reminder that the majority of the world doesn't sip lattes in a quaint little coffee shop. Taking it a step further, it would be negligent to not point out that many in America don't live this way either. I will surely come home and over time will think that my normal is unexceptional and mundane , but for some in the world, my normal, or your normal, could be their dream. Normal is all relative.

Monday, December 7, 2015

reminder: the content of this web site are personal and do not reflect any position of the U.S. Government or the Peace Corps.

If you can take it...

I may have just gone temporarily insane. I've had a rough go of it lately, from things just seeming to go wrong, feeling overwhelmed, and homesick for the holidays (I will admit I have let some tears out when the cabbies are playing Christmas music on my way to the school). I decided I couldn't wait any longer, so I finally busted out the book, "Unbroken". I've Had it in my kindle for a while, but I have been holding off reading it until I felt like I needed it. I am only a little way in, but things just kept piling up, so I decided to fast forward and watch the movie (I will finish the book just now). It is the TRUE story of Louie Zamperini, the US Olympian who joined WWll, floated adrift for 47 days in the pacific after his plane crashed, was rescued only to fall into a greater living hell, becoming a prisoner of war in Japan, where he was tortured, beaten and made to work in a coal mine with other POWs. After watching his story unfold, Louie's life kind of puts your life into perspective. My problems don't seem so significant anymore. I don't know if that is weird, but sometimes you just want to call it a day, and his struggles, grit and fight are an inspiration to fight another day. "If you can take it, you can make it," said Louie's brother when they were younger. This was his mantra. I like it. Not to say my Peace Corps experience is anything like his situation, but at times it can be emotionally draining, and sometimes you see and hear things that make you feel utterly helpless. It can also be overwhelming and grinding being stared at, watched and judged 24/7. Despite feeling as if you are never alone, you get to be pretty lonely... Thank god for Bora and Phoenix!

So back to the temporary insanity... After spending a few solid minutes bawling my eyes out after the movie, I let my dog in the house (shhhhh remember she isn't allowed inside), lay on the floor and let her lick the tears off my face for five minutes. Now those of you who read my blog know what happened yesterday... Lets just say it was time for a shower, and quick. So in I go... I look up, and my bathroom is swarming with mosquitos. My brain seems to shut down and, maybe because they were hunting my blood, but I see red, and something snapped inside. I can't take them anymore! So I jump out of the shower, grab the broom and go Batman meets Joker's henchmen on them. I'm talking... POW! POP! BAM! WHAM! well, pieces are flying off the broom... Maybe dust bunnies too and my cat is booking it to the other side and out the door faster than that dinosaur in Jurassic park after that goat (what is up with all the movie references?). Anyway, I grab the FISH spray (cancer causing insecticide) and I spray that stuff like there is no tomorrow. Lock the door and giggle like the evil villain I am. Victory has never felt so good. So now I am in my mosquito net, quite sure that the brothers and sisters of the fallen comrades in the bathroom are plotting to get me. It's all I can think about. They are out there. Circling. Watching. Waiting. Funny thing is, I imagine if you have done Peace Corps, or any longtime living abroad that requires a mosquito net... You have probably experienced this and are laughing your a$$ off right now. God I hope so. Otherwise, I may be truly losing it! No joke, my eye has been twitching all day long.

Sunday, December 6, 2015

My life is a comedy: Life with animals

I think it is about time for a new post. I told you all about my new dog Phoenix. Life with her has become rather comical. Phoenix and the cat, Bora, have yet to become best friends. The landlords rules are that the dog stay outside at all times. This creates animosity and jealousy between Bora and Phoenix. I have caught Bora lying at the front door sticking her little paws out, taunting Phoenix on the other side. I come home, and Phoenix follows me upstairs, waiting for me to unlock the door and barge through. Meanwhile, Bora is on the inside waiting for me to open the door to bust outside. This is our ritual everytime I need to open the door. Sometimes Phoenix wins and she gets to come in for a few minutes while I put my groceries inside and hunt for a treat to bribe her to go outside. Sometimes Bora wins and will race down the stairs and into the yard... With me scrambling after her. In or out, they want what the other has, which seems to be the story of life.

I recently went to town to have Bora spayed by the GSPCA. Me, three other peace corps volunteers and 5 cats made the trip to town. It was quite an adventure. End result, no babies for Bora. I read a fact while I was there: one pair of cats and their offspring can produce 420,000 cats in seven years. Now wonder there are so many strays in Guyana!

One time, I was walking Phoenix and she found herself a New York Yankees hat. Naturally, it isn't a Red Sox hat so I let her keep it as a toy. We continue on our walk and on to the store to get some groceries. I go to loop the leash around the fence. Phoenix thinks I'm taking her new toy as I lean to resecure the leash... And off she books it down the street. So here I am, chasing a dog carrying a Yankees hat in her mouth. An old toothless man is giggling behind me as I turned in shock racing down the street after her. Mind you, I am already a curiosity in my community, but add on this and it was quite a show. Good dog did run straight home though.

The other day, I had to go to town, so my friend watched my animals. She had to leave and put the keys in a hiding place. Well fast forward a few hours, I get home and the keys are gone! 50/50 we picked a bad hiding spot and someone swiped them... Or my dog found a new toy! As me, and my neighbors are looking in the yard, the biggest pig I have ever seen pushes her way through the fence in the back yard. This now poses another problem... My dog has an escape route. Note there are holes all over the fence and I am constantly blocking them with wood, bottles and even coconuts to keep her from escaping. Sometimes she does and she ends up running to my neighbors to play. So we are looking for the keys, and Bora jumps out the window onto the overhang place, and down to the ground. My other neighbors dog decides he doesn't like cats and decides to try to take a big bite. Up the tree the cat goes. Did I mention she just got spayed? Anyway, landlord had a spare and my locks are now fully changed and I am safe.

Yesterday, I come outside and my dog is GONE! I freak out because she is no where. My coconut fence blocking didn't hold up. I walk up and down the street and nothing! No Phoenix. So I go to get my bike to expand my search, and out goes the cat. NOW BOTH MY ANIMALS ARE GONE. I heard all this yelping and barking down the street. I look out, and there is Phoenix, covered in mud, racing down the street with dogs barking after her trailing behind. Oye dog. As a side note, I had given her a bath three hours before. Payback?

Fast forward 24 hours... PHOENIX and I are peacefully swinging in the hammock to the sounds of Bora meowing inside, begging to cone out. Phoenix gets up and there are these little white things all over the hammock. WORMS! She ran away and got herself infested with worms! I call the vet and she comes right over and shoots her up with all kinds of good things! Let me tell you, worms are nasty little things. Poor Phoenix was licking her butt and they just kept popping out. Enough of that. Just Deworm your pets. Side note, the vet said Phoenix is probably 7-8 months... I pegged her for 5 based on her size from when I found her. The vet reminded me she was living on her own and starving so she would be undersized. The vet looked at her teeth and said yup, 7-8 months. So based on her age, all those dogs chasing after Phoenix... We shall see what happens in a few months. Anyone reading this in Guyana potentially want a guard puppy in a few months? Note I am planning to have Phoenix spayed when GSPCA does their next round of spaying in February. Assuming she isn't already knocked up.

So it has been an eventful couple of weeks with my critters! Despite the chaos, frustrations and even nastiness of being a pet mom in Guyana, it is worth it. My cat loves to cuddle when I watch movies or read at night. She hunts for bugs and keeps them out of my life. And my dog is just hilarious and full of love. Through Bora and Phoenix, I am trying to teach and show my neighbors, community and students that these animals are good and need to be cared for and loved. I have my students constantly asking after my pets. I ask them if they have pets and they say, "yes, but yours are different". Fact is, they aren't. I picked Phoenix up as a stray, starving and covered in ticks on the side of the road in a trash heap, and Bora was a stray too. They are no different than any other animal in Guyana, except I have them vaccinated, and fed, play with them, and show them love and kindness. Their pets can be just like mine.

Saturday, November 14, 2015

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

peace corps pet(s)

Well, some interesting developments have occurred since moving to my permanent site in East Canje, Berbice. As most of you know, I adopted a little kitten, who I named Bora (Guyanese for string bean). Bora wandered into another Peace Corps volunteers yard one day when she was a tiny kitten. I think she decided she didn't want to be a stray and felt there was something more out there for her. I am so grateful Matt & Kathrina took her in and asked if anyone wanted her. She has quickly adapted to life with a human: she loves to cuddle, play with her toys, enjoys food whenever she wants, and is even blessed with filtered water, a luxury that many Guyanese don't have access to. But she is more than just a cat living in my home. She has been my rock in times of isolation, loneliness and adaption. She has made me laugh countless times, is sweet and loves to bounce around HER house. She also loves to wake me up a few times a night by l jumping on me and licking my face. Sometimes I have the pleasure of waking up to a cat tongue sticking up my nose. Always a pleasant reminder that someone loves you.
But alas, our duo wasn't meant to be. I went to 63 Beach with some volunteers this weekend. After swimming in water the color of chocolate milk, and getting bit or stung by some unknown creature (seriously), we decided to head home. On our way, we encountered two puppies. I was immediately drawn to the caramel colored puppy sitting in the bush. I barely noticed the one that ran up to us and lay on its back belly up. My friend started feeding this puppy chips, and the other one stayed away. It was then I noticed the white/tan puppy with a black snout. I pet her and her tail went crazy with excitement. She rolled over and let me rub her belly... Certainly strange behavior for a stray. I scooped her up, expecting her to struggle and took a few steps. I saw her submission and immediate trust as a sign that she was destined to have a human, and that human was me. She lay in my arms as if she had found peace and protection. That afternoon at my friends house (as that is where I was staying), she snuggled with me in a hammock and followed me around everywhere. Two baths later, 30 ticks removed and plenty of belly rubs, she too, like Bora, has adapted to life with a human. She has even, in just a few days, grasped the concept of fetch.
Now if only I can get Bora to like her new friend, life at the animal farm would be perfect.

Monday, October 5, 2015

Jus' now.

Jus' Now. Two simple words that on their own are simple, and you may be wondering why I chose to start a blog mentioning them. But I will get to the reason shortly. First looking at “just”, its definition as an adverb is simple: exactly. Now, look at “now” and the definition is at the present time or moment, which seems to indicate a sense of urgency. Parents scream at their children to stop fighting “NOW!” , children cry, “I want ice cream, NOW!” and your boss has surely yelled, “I need that report on my desk NOW!”. Certainly words of definite importance to American culture on their own.

But in Guyana, put these words together, and you simply have the Guyanese way of life. Jus' Now has infinite translations, many of which I am still learning and trying to wrap my head around. Despite the individual word's meanings, together, they create a beautiful contradiction of each other. The “just” seems to loose its exactness, and the “now” crumbles away to oblivion.  You see, Jus' Now, does not mean what I as an American first expected when I heard the phrase used. It does not mean, I will do what you ask exactly right this instant. It means the opposite. It can mean, “I'll get to it five minutes from now....five hours... five days or longer”. When you make plans with someone, you always factor in “jus' now” time... if you say 8, plan for 9. If you are waiting for a friend and they Whatsapp you that they will be there, jus' now, better take a seat and get comfortable.

My first few months in Guyana, I loathed these words, as my American background, customary pace of life and sense of urgency that I know fills so many of us, resisted and trembled at the concept of this idea. American culture adheres to the “NOW” , and life moves so quickly that there is often little time for anything but work, eat, sleep... work, eat, sleep. This is the background that so many of us come from. So naturally, “jus' now” ground at me and made me inner being cringe.

But then something miraculous happened. Contrary to my learned nature, after months of being subjugated to “jus' now”, I have grown to find the concept of “jus' now” beautiful and appealing. Despite my initial hatred of the idea, I have come to realize that Jus' Now is a reminder to slow down and enjoy the simple things in life. It is a reminder to take time to smell the roses... or coconuts. It is a reminder that when you are racing to get out the door, and you suddenly see a beautiful Guyanese sunset, time becomes irrelevant.

Jus' now can be a convenient excuse to achieve something greater... I often find myself using jus' now when it comes to cleaning. I'll get to it jus' now... right now I am going to lay in my hammock and read a book, or gaff with my neighbor, or watch my kitten discover something new about the world. Ultimately, this is much more fulfilling to the soul than stressing about cleaning... which will get done, jus' now. 

Despite what I initially thought, Jus' now is actually a sign of respect as it acknowledges that you will get back to someone jus' now... rather than the American norm of hitting the silence button to ignore a pesky call you simply don't have time for. I have witnessed Guyanese in the heat of action, answer the phone, simply to say, “I will call you back jus' now”. Wouldn't you rather be acknowledged, than ignored? 

There are so many reasons to use the jus' now for Guyanese... children need to be bathed, fed and entertained... mind you, at home this is as simple as turning on the shower... sticking left overs in the microwave, or stopping the car at McDonalds... of turning on the television or handing your kid an ipad. But in Guyana, a shower is often lugging water from a pipe or river and bathing with a bucket; lunch is always home cooked with love often using vegetables and meat from the backyard... and entertainment is what you can find in and around your community.


Perhaps it is what I came to Guyana to find for myself. I have struggled for a long time to find my sense of purpose in this world, to find the meaning behind all that I have done this far in my short life and to find my future. I think I need to take my cue from the Guyanese... I will figure it out, jus' now.








Sunday, October 4, 2015

Give a kid a toothbrush

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

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

MUST READ

BY THE WAY: the content of this web site are personal and do not reflect any position of the U.S. Government or the Peace Corps.

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:

  1. 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.
  2. A broom must be placed by the entrance to the house.
  3. 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...
  4. 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...
  5. The baby isn't named for nine days – I kept asking the baby's name when I first saw him...
  6. 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.
  7. 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.
  8. 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.
  9. Baby needs to be burped... wait, I knew this rule!!!!! score one for me!
  10. 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.
  11. 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





Crossing the Essequebo in Parika, Guyana. Bananas for sale!!!!!!

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.

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

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!

Monday, February 2, 2015

"... ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man." JFK

I am at the point that I am less than three months from my departure date. My acceptance in September to serve in Guyana seems like yesterday. I have gone through a whirlwind of doctors appointments, immunizations, tests and paperwork to get me to this point. Everyone keeps asking me if I am nervous or scared. Of course I am nervous and scared! I am nervous about meeting new people, being away from the comforts of my life and my family, changing routines, and my independence. I am scared of the uncertainty of the future. I am scared of the unknown. But despite these fears, I am also excited, inspired and ready. I am excited about the unknown and I am ready to make my future. I am inspired by my friends and family and their genuine interest and shared excitement about my next adventure. I am inspired by the stories of other Returned Peace Corps Volunteers; I am inspired by John F. Kennedy's speech formulating the idea of the Peace Corps.

I have heard JFK's inauguration speech many times, and I think about it now and again, but at this stage in my life, it is taking on new meaning.

 " And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you--ask what you can do for your country. 

     My fellow citizens of the world: ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man." JFK

Guyana obtained its Independence on May 26, 1966, the same decade that that the Peace Corps was founded. I have been doing tons of research on Guyana and its people, culture and politics. I am pulling a lot of similarities to my own country - like the US, Guyana is diverse, a country made of numerous ethnic groups (East Indian, African, Chinese, Europeans and  Amerindians),  all trying to coexist, form a country and lead their lives. Like the US, Guyana also struggled to achieve independence from the British, and create its own government, laws and cultural identity. Guyana is young, hopeful and and like our ancestors, trying to figure out its identity and place in the world. I am excited for this next adventure and to experience this optimism.

Today is a snowy day here in Massachusetts, but as I sit here typing this looking out at the cold snowy afternoon, I can not help but smile... this will be my last winter for two years! My future is going to be HOT HOT HOT!