The Ugly, The Bad, The Good and the More Better.

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: