In our first month of training, Peace
Corps Medical Officers (PCMOs) do a little lesson with us on the
“Cycle of Adjustment”. This is to show us when to expect the “ups
and downs” during our Peace Corps service. I just celebrated a year
of being in Guyana; so far, “the cycle” has been dead accurate. I
knew that going into this my mental health would be challenged,
broken down and torn apart at some points. I hadn't written in a
while because I had been in the down part of “the cycle”; the
part where you are done with training, get to your permanent site,
adjust, and then hit a lull and must face reality. You begin to see
things for what they are and your optimistic plans tend to hit a wall
of actuality. Your goals never go as planned, you hit dead ends or
walls that you didn't see coming; and things are never as easy as you
think they should be. A lot of walls were completely out of my
control; injury and sickness; other peoples' actions or behaviors;
deaths or illnesses of friends or family at home... and then dealing
with death so far from loved ones; just being a “white gyal”
from America living in a developing country. I can't write about some
of the specifics until after my service for safety reasons, but you
know the saying when it rains, it pours? It poured. There were chunks
of days that went by during my “down” part of the cycle where I
couldn't remember what I had done the day before. I didn't want to
get out of my hammock, I didn't want to do anything and I didn't
want to see anyone. I felt like I was constantly being watched and
judged. My life (mostly my situation) was an overwhelming blur and to
top it off, one thing after another kept piling up.
Over this last year I have learned to
do a lot of self-talk, self-motivation and to give myself daily or
hourly pep-talks. If I hit a wall at school or at home, I try to take
a step back and look for something good that happened during the day:
getting a student with a behavior problem to laugh or behave
appropriately; having a new student come to the library; having one
student get the point of a lesson; or as simple as one little girl
running up to me and giving me a big hug because she was happy to see
me – because I made the effort to show up. Getting through a load
of laundry; emptying the trash; going to the market, or sweeping the
floor all became accomplishments that I would recognize as positive.
It sounds silly but holding onto one good thing has amazing powers
over your mind. The good is always better and holds more power than
focusing on the bad.
I learned that I am a lot stronger than
I thought I was... but not by myself. I find comfort, motivation and
strength talking to a few of my fellow Peace Corps friends, fighting
the desire to be isolated. Sometimes you have to know when to reach
out and ask for help. There is no shame in this. I am a huge advocate
of sharing and being open about ones mental health, experiences and
stories, because chances are, someone else may find at least one
small part of this story similar to what is going on in their lives.
There comes a point where you just have
to know your limit and call it a day. But when asked by someone who
knew everything that happened why I have stayed instead of giving up
and going home, my answer was simple: everything that happened thus
far could be explained. Everything that happened was completely out
of my control and wasn't a reflection of me, they were just things
that happened to me. When you go into something like this, you need
to know your limit. My limit, my point of return (home) would be:
rather than feeling bad about the things that happened to me... I
started to feel bad about myself. If I started to feel
worthless, hopeless or helpless, these feelings would be my white
flag.
But don't get me wrong, it hasn't been
all ugly and bad things – I would be remiss not to finish this blog
with happy memories. There have been some amazing days and amazing
people in my life that have made this last year worth it despite the
“ugly and bad” also known as my personal challenges. Some
highlights include: having an awesome and supportive host family in
Soesdyke; Fourth of July at the Ambassador's house; adopting my
fur-babies Bora and Phoenix; having my students ask about my
fur-babies; experiencing Diwali in the capitol with Kelly, Liza,
Allee and some PC Response Volunteers; celebrating Christmas with
Suzy, Cassie and Phoenix at the beach; cooking and playing Pahgwah
(has to be my all time favorite holiday EVER); having cooking dates
with Lori where we attempt to cook something from home with
ingredients from Guyana (breadfruit taco's was a fail... but Pizza
was a success); moving to Adelphi and meeting awesome neighbors –
Seeta, Vannie and Rasheed – and being able to now ride my bike to
school everyday; receiving boxes and a barrel all full of books and
school supplies to help get the library up and running at school;
watching the kids peruse through the shelves looking for the perfect
book to take home for the night, knowing that the majority of them
are voluntarily reading outside of school for the first time in their
lives; spending a relaxing and delightful birthday at Pandama Winery
with Kelly, Suzy, Liza, Latricia and Cassie; teaching the grade 6
students about puberty (certainly an awkward subject but their
innocence and curiosity was refreshing); hiking/biking to New Forest
with Marcella, Sarah, Lindsy and Lori...and falling in a ditch
attempting to ride Guyanese (double on a bike) with Lindsy;
discovering I can still do a cartwheel on the beach at the age of 32;
taking time to swing in a hammock; reading over 30 books –
including the entire Harry Potter series (finally – I don't know
what I was waiting for! ) and some other books that have been on my
list forever (Uncle Tom's Cabin, A Long Walk to Freedom); discovering
that hand-washing your clothes is actually therapeutic and relaxing;
and the moment you walk outside, pick up your pointy broom to sweep
the concrete outside your house and see your neighbor doing the same
thing at the same time – talk about being integrated - I think I am
turning Guyanese.
Pahgwah, Diwali, and me being weird
Playing in the pool on Lori's Birthday
In December I went on a trip with a
volunteer group in East Canje (where I live) to a village called
Mara. I wrote a blog about it but never posted it (again, that was
when I started into my downward spiral) I am going to share it with
you now because it is fitting to look back on more in depth at one of
my happier memories here:
My day started with my arrival to a
house to pack up the donation items and roll out. There were bags
and bags, some marked with names of recipients, some full of balls,
dolls, cars, sweeties, biscuits and some full of clothes. I watched
the organized chaos as the bags were filled with food items, pampers,
towels, and staples. As I looked around, at the bags and bags of
items, I couldn't help reflecting on another similar event I partook
in often with my mom and her friends... the filling of care packages
to our American Soldiers overseas. It made me homesick but it was
bittersweet to see and be a part of something similar (creating care
packages) happening thousands of miles away from home. Onward and
outward we went. Loaded into the back of a pickup truck, decorated in
Christmas gear and the logo for the East Canje Humanitarian Society
(ECHS), we headed out. Santa was picked up in New Amsterdam and as we
rode through the streets people whistled and screamed out happily at
us. We continued further down the road, beyond Stanleytown, where I
have a few friends living, beyond where I have ever traveled before.
On we went. The roads went from bumpy to smooth, to bumpy and
finally, to dirt roads. The houses became further and further apart
until finally, we went several minutes without seeing another soul.
At one point, I interrupted the merriment to scream out, “A MONKEY!
A MONKEY!” I had finally seen my first wild monkey! He was up high
in a tree a great distance away, but I had seen him. Everyone laughed
at me and I was the butt of
monkey jokes for the remainder of the day. On we went. We passed the
oldest Mandir (Hindu Temple) in the Caribbean, founded in 1846 . We
passed the landing site where the first East Indians came to shore in
Guyana, 128 of them on May 5, 1835A little beyond, and it was hard to
believe that there were still people this far out, but the speckling
of houses here and there proved me wrong. I asked my fellow
companions the obvious question... “how do these people get water
all the way out here?”. My friends had no idea...Perhaps from the
river a long walk on the other side of the road? We passed the
“Bamboo Jungle” where bamboo was planted over a hundred years
ago, and took over. We meandered under arches of trees and bamboo,
calling out “Duck!” when a low branch was headed our way. If we
saw children we stopped and gave them sweeties (lollipops and hard
candies). After an hour trip down a lonely but beautiful road we
reached our final destination. The remote village of Mara! Mara has a
very small but well structured community center, looking out onto a
flooded field. Rows and rows of children were seated on the
bleachers. There were so few houses near the community center, it was
stunning to realize that these children had walked so far to see us,
miles and miles some of them! Santa got out of the truck and made
“his” way to the children. This may have been the first time some
or most of these children had ever seen Santa. And I also couldn't
help but thinking... this is also probably the first time some of
these children have seen a white person. I was as nervous as these
kids. I didn't know what to expect or how they would react. My task
was to do the face painting so the first girl tentatively, with
persuasion, came towards me and silently tilted her face as I painted
a star on. She was silent and clearly didn't know what I was doing to
her. I took out my camera and told her, “I am going to show you a
picture of yourself”. Click. I brought the camera (phone) towards
her and a slow almost imperceptible smile tweaked at the corner of
her lips. It wasn't the biggest smile I have ever seen, but it was
enough to make me tear up a little. So the line grew and on I
painted. Finally, a little boy sits down and I paint a star on his
face. When I finish he looks at me and says “tinks” . “you are
welcome” I say. “tinks” he says again and again. I look to my
friend for translation and she said, he said “thanks” and I said
“you are welcome”. Same language but not the same! I don't think
he understood a word I was saying. Sometimes I forget that as much
trouble as I have understanding the Guyanese accent and Creolese...
they must have just as hard a time understanding me!
It
was time to give out gifts. The kids sat patiently as balls, dolls,
cars, pencils, crayons, sharpeners and books were given out. I was in
charge of the books. Most of the books brought were much too advanced
for these kids, but we gave them out anyways – it may be the first
book some of these kids have ever had. I did pass over a few of the
books – Harlequin Romance novels... even if they can't read, I
didn't think it was a good gift to give a 10 year old. So instead, I
turned to the parents and said, hey, this is a romance, but it is a
gook to read! They gratefully took them. I even spied one of them a
few minutes later flipping through the pages.
When
it got time to give out the clothes it did become a little chaotic.
But it all worked out in the end. One old man, barefoot, rotted teeth
and clothes hanging off of him came up to me and shook my hand, and
then stepped closer and gave me the biggest hug. I could smell the
alcohol and sweat coming off of him. I found him a shirt, but he
really wanted pants or slippers (flip flops). Unfortunately, they all
seemed to be ladies or kids pants, and there were no shoes, so he
didn't get either. I felt really bad that I couldn't find him any
pants or shoes. After most people left he stuck around. He told my
fellow volunteers (ECHS) that he really loved this white gyal. They
all giggled and I shook their heads.
As
we were getting ready to leave the community center, I asked to use
the bathroom. One woman sheepishly said okay, but it is outside, are
you sure that you are okay with that? I said absolutely, I appreciate
it. Inside I laughed and said, yes, I have been here for nine
months... PLEASE I GOT THIS! So in I went... except this wasn't like
any of the latrines I had ever been in. Yes reader. I am not going to
lie to you. Some of you may never experience this so I need to tell
you what happened. The toilet seat was dug into a slab of wood, but
cut out far back, so squatting was difficult. The stench assaulted my
nose and I considered walking out but I really had to pee. I closed
myself into the chamber, with the bugs and smell and I gave it a
shot... but I missed. We all know I am short, it is no secret, so I
wasn't tall enough to squat far enough back. I ended up peeing all
over my tights (shorts you wear under a dress). So that was fun!
Quite the experience, peeing on yourself in the middle of nowhere.
Luckily, the woman I was with was wonderful and when we got back to
the community center she on the sly helped find me some leggings to
wear under my dress in the pile of donated clothes, and stood guard
as I changed in the bush. Talk about an experience in nature! I never
would have thought that peeing takes practice, but it sure does!
Sorry if this is too much information... but a lesson I learned
quickly here was, hey, if you can't laugh at yourself, you will never
survive here. So laugh away with me... just not at me.
So
on we went on our adventure, me in my cool new white kitty leggings.
We arrived at a home with a little girl who was disabled and the
ECHS gave her family all kinds of supplies and toys for her. It is
amazing to think that they live out here with no cell phone
reception, no telephone, no electricity, no reliable water source and
still manage to get by. My trip to Mara was definitely a highlight of the last 365 that have
gone by.
So back to today:
Guyanese have many phrases that they
use over and over that are starting to rub off on me – “Just now”
(see earlier blog), “me nah know” (I don't know), “you big up
you-self” (you are trying to look impressive), “you skin you
teeth” (everything is funny to you). One that I hear constantly
that I find myself using, while grammatically incorrect, seems to be
quite perfect and fitting: “more better”. This is more better
than that. I like mango more better than papaya. I had a tough few
months, but overall, my year in Guyana has been more better than I could have
ever imagined. I have many things to look forward to in the next year: seeing results in the students reading; starting a new hygiene campaign at school; starting weekly "girls group chats" at school; visits from Brittany in June and my brother Steve and Saba in August; planning a hike to Kaiteur Falls with Cassie; and celebrating another Pahgwah in Guyana. This year will be more better than the last.
A Christmas card that I received from a student in the United States:
