The holidays are here. First, it’s important to know that holidays are not celebrated in the same ways here in our country as they are in the States. So, some notes on that and on our own personal holidays.
First, obviously there’s not the same Thanksgiving here as in the States – there were no pilgrims, no cornucopias, no smallpox-laden blankets. But there is Harvest Day, celebrated in mid-November; with 2 growing seasons instead of 1, this country had a 50/50 shot at coinciding with the States as it does. It’s not a specific day, but rather a brief period, and is mostly celebrated in Christian churches. So, the two of us got to attend 2 consecutive Sundays of Harvest celebrations at nearby churches. People bring in produce and the wealth of the lands, and the pastor has also typically gone around door-to-door in the neighborhood collecting watermelons and so forth, and it makes for a really nice day. Our personal Thanksgiving / birthday was a nice, quiet affair, celebrated by us + dog.
Christmas, meanwhile, is worlds apart. Starting December 24th, there are 3 days of partying, extending from Christmas Eve through Christmas Day and Boxing Day. Boxing Day, Dec. 26th, has nothing to do with large muscular men or pugilism. Rather, it’s named for something like stacking up the boxes of stuff you got; at least, that’s what one of us has heard. Regardless, people are out on the road, drinking heavily and eating Black Cake, which involves rum somehow. When we mentioned that Christmas Day typically revolves around private family gatherings, we got laughter in response. “People wake up still drunk from the night before, and then the drinking continues.” So. We’ll let you know how it goes.
We may be having some visitors around Christmastime, another volunteer or two, depending on how things work out. In this country, you don’t count on something til it’s already happened (like with our kitchen sink getting fixed; we’re going on 4 weeks of constantly leaking water). Also, before Christmas, we have a whole-group meeting of the volunteers, to get some tips on grants, and also just meet up and build morale. Eight people have left now out of our original 33, mostly over issues of abject loneliness, mixed with feelings of accomplishing little. It’s frustrating work at times, and forces come from all over to stimy attempts at action. Whole days get written off because a Minister (like a Secretary of …. under the U.S. President) comes through, or because it rains heavily enough that everyone just stays home that day. You need a lot of resilience, patience, and a sense of humor (and an occasional stiff drink) to get through sometimes.
Finally, on New Year’s Eve some of the Christian churches celebrate All…….something something something. What this means is, during Christmas when most of our readers are with family, solemnly and lovingly celebrating Christ’s birth, we may be drinking. And New Year’s Eve, when some of our readers are getting uproariously drunk, we may well be at church. Funny world, huh?
That being said, in the spirit of the holidays, we’ve created a list of the small things that help us get through each week, things for which we are more than a little grateful.
We give thanks for:
Music we brought with us from the States
Heated water tossed into our bucket for bathing (some nights it gets down to 78 degrees!)
The Jimmy Buffet song “Ho, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum” about Santa going off to the Caribbean – it’s our holiday theme song
That we figured out how to make pizza, brownies, and cookies using only a rangetop (necessity is the mother of invention, and all that)
Letters and packages from home (thanks!)
Rainy and breezy days that cool us down
Books
Oasis, the single Westernized coffee-house (owned by a Brit) in the entire country, which we get to visit once every 3-5 months when we go into the capital for some reason
Seven Curry – this will be its own blog entry at some point
The laptop given me by the secondary school, on which we write these entries
Our one fan, bless it, which helps us sleep at night, the loss of which awakens us immediately to the fact that we have a blackout
Visiting with other volunteers
Baby powder on our necks, insides of elbows and backs of knees – at night, in the morning, whenever, wherever; man it feels good to be dry
Our knives and faux-Leatherman (from Target for just $25!), all of which we seem to use almost every day
Screens on our windows, newly installed thanks to some of our secondary-school students, and given to us at a cut rate by a sympathetic shop-owner. Volunteerism has its perks!
Our dog Riesling, even when she’s gnawing our hands and peeing on our floors
Books
Newsweek, given to us by our organization to keep us sane, and The New Yorker, given us by another volunteer after she finishes them, shipped by her family (there’s some trickle-down effect for you!)
Cocktail hour, celebrated once weekly, on the day it seems most needed; it’s great, but by the time we leave this place, I may never want to squeeze another lime in my life
Our headlamp, during blackouts (and just generally)
Books!
Monday, December 17, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Friday, November 23, 2007
Suicide (not mine!)
Okay. So what have I (the guy) been doing, in between battling rats and bats (3 bats dead now, but we have screens on most of our windows finally!), helping raise a puppy, and reading a ton of books? Well, three main things: Teaching Information Technology (mostly Microsoft Office stuff, and typing); trying to get some traction working with local farmers getting into aquaculture (fish-farming for sale in local and international markets); and trying to lower the suicide rate. I’ll talk about that last one for a bit here.
We’re in the region of the country (10 regions in this country, the country itself the size of Idaho, 11th-largest state) with the highest suicide rate. We’re in the specific village collection that drives up the suicide rate of this region. There are four villages together on this road, about a twenty-minute bikeride across each, total population just under 2000. This is the breadbasket of the country, provides enough food for every man, woman, and child, with more for export besides. The main rice and sugar productions are mostly right around here, and the area also provides a crazy amount of fruits and vegetables. Seventh-graders struggle to read, but third-graders can have heated discussions about the exhaust pipes of tractors (no joke), and when harvest-time comes (there are two growing seasons per year here), students disappear from school in droves to help out. Okay, so there’s the basic setup, as much as you can describe a specific region in another country in one paragraph, anyway.
Out of fewer than 2000 people, there are 5-6 attempted suicides per month. I’ll say that one more time, and I’ll add in some math. 2000 people in families of about 4 – 5, so 450 families. 60+ suicide attempts per year. Think about those numbers over a 20-year span (and this problem has been ongoing. Not every attempt leads to a successful suicide, but enough do, and there are repeat-attempters as well.
And 450 nuclear families in an enclosed area means that not only does everyone know everyone, but that everybody is related to everybody else. I don’t think I’ve found a person yet that hasn’t a lost a cousin, and most have lost a brother or sister or child or parent, to suicide.
So, that’s the situation. The typical method is poisoning via farm chemicals and pesticides; there are stories of people leaving this area for the States, living there a half-dozen years, then killing themselves in the same way as people here, and for the same reasons. It’s a cultural response at this point, and people carry it with them their entire lives. The reasons most typically involve an argument with a girlfriend or boyfriend or spouse, or occasionally with a family-member. Also, the majority of attempts are men, and most of them were drinking heavily at the time, came home, and had some sort of altercation about drinking or money or something. HIV/AIDS sometime play a part as well; this country was one of 15 in the world highlighted by the recent PEPFAR (President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief) grant money.
So. Some of the things I’m doing, developing, or thinking about:
I see the 7th, 8th, and 9th-graders once each week for a Guidance and Counseling class. This was a weird idea for me to get used to, but it’s working out great. I’ve developed a curriculum focusing on suicide prevention; it targets increasing a future- and goal- oriented mindset, increasing coping mechanisms (particularly relational support, talking about things, which doesn’t seem to happen here at all), working with alcohol, HIV/pregnancy issues & protection, life skills, & career counseling. I’ve been asked by my government program to do a presentation on the curriculum for the rest of the volunteers in the country when we go all go into the capital in December for training, which is pretty neat. We’ll see how that goes.
A guy from North America who was born here but spent most of his life up north is trying to do stuff right now as well; a professor he knows is coming down at some point to run a national seminar on suicide, he’s helping get some sports equipment into the area, and we’re talking about trying to set up a suicide hotline.
Trying to get as much sports equipment as possible, and I want to do the footwork to get some adult sports leagues started. I was in a softball league back home, and the organizer tore his hair out; but the rest of us, about 250 people, had a great time with no work involved on our part. Softball won’t work down here, but other things will, hopefully.
I’ve contacted the main in-country producer of the chemicals, and they have agreed to give pamphlets out to all of their distributors and retailers at point-of-sale with any chemical purchase; I need to get grant money to fund it, but what I want is a simple two-sider: One side deals with intentional suicide, maybe lets people know about the hotline if we can get that going, and the other side warning about accidental suicide. One local farmer died tragically because his water and chemicals were next to one another on his tractor. Grabbed the wrong one for a drink. Some of these chemicals shut down your internal organs, you die within minutes.
What would be wonderful, WONDERFUL, would be to find a professor in the States or Canada who does counseling and research on suicide. During my Master’s, I did research with a professor focused on Peace Studies; she helped expand a Teacher’s College in an African country to include counselors as well; the counselors’ training was focused on PTSD due to that country’s ongoing external and civil wars (20 years of these now, in which a lot of child soldiers are involved). To help catalyze something like that, get long-term specialized knowledge and funding available, here, for this problem, would be amazing.
So that’s where I am right now. One thing going, another couple in the works, a hope, and a pipe-dream. Welcome to development, huh?
We’re in the region of the country (10 regions in this country, the country itself the size of Idaho, 11th-largest state) with the highest suicide rate. We’re in the specific village collection that drives up the suicide rate of this region. There are four villages together on this road, about a twenty-minute bikeride across each, total population just under 2000. This is the breadbasket of the country, provides enough food for every man, woman, and child, with more for export besides. The main rice and sugar productions are mostly right around here, and the area also provides a crazy amount of fruits and vegetables. Seventh-graders struggle to read, but third-graders can have heated discussions about the exhaust pipes of tractors (no joke), and when harvest-time comes (there are two growing seasons per year here), students disappear from school in droves to help out. Okay, so there’s the basic setup, as much as you can describe a specific region in another country in one paragraph, anyway.
Out of fewer than 2000 people, there are 5-6 attempted suicides per month. I’ll say that one more time, and I’ll add in some math. 2000 people in families of about 4 – 5, so 450 families. 60+ suicide attempts per year. Think about those numbers over a 20-year span (and this problem has been ongoing. Not every attempt leads to a successful suicide, but enough do, and there are repeat-attempters as well.
And 450 nuclear families in an enclosed area means that not only does everyone know everyone, but that everybody is related to everybody else. I don’t think I’ve found a person yet that hasn’t a lost a cousin, and most have lost a brother or sister or child or parent, to suicide.
So, that’s the situation. The typical method is poisoning via farm chemicals and pesticides; there are stories of people leaving this area for the States, living there a half-dozen years, then killing themselves in the same way as people here, and for the same reasons. It’s a cultural response at this point, and people carry it with them their entire lives. The reasons most typically involve an argument with a girlfriend or boyfriend or spouse, or occasionally with a family-member. Also, the majority of attempts are men, and most of them were drinking heavily at the time, came home, and had some sort of altercation about drinking or money or something. HIV/AIDS sometime play a part as well; this country was one of 15 in the world highlighted by the recent PEPFAR (President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief) grant money.
So. Some of the things I’m doing, developing, or thinking about:
I see the 7th, 8th, and 9th-graders once each week for a Guidance and Counseling class. This was a weird idea for me to get used to, but it’s working out great. I’ve developed a curriculum focusing on suicide prevention; it targets increasing a future- and goal- oriented mindset, increasing coping mechanisms (particularly relational support, talking about things, which doesn’t seem to happen here at all), working with alcohol, HIV/pregnancy issues & protection, life skills, & career counseling. I’ve been asked by my government program to do a presentation on the curriculum for the rest of the volunteers in the country when we go all go into the capital in December for training, which is pretty neat. We’ll see how that goes.
A guy from North America who was born here but spent most of his life up north is trying to do stuff right now as well; a professor he knows is coming down at some point to run a national seminar on suicide, he’s helping get some sports equipment into the area, and we’re talking about trying to set up a suicide hotline.
Trying to get as much sports equipment as possible, and I want to do the footwork to get some adult sports leagues started. I was in a softball league back home, and the organizer tore his hair out; but the rest of us, about 250 people, had a great time with no work involved on our part. Softball won’t work down here, but other things will, hopefully.
I’ve contacted the main in-country producer of the chemicals, and they have agreed to give pamphlets out to all of their distributors and retailers at point-of-sale with any chemical purchase; I need to get grant money to fund it, but what I want is a simple two-sider: One side deals with intentional suicide, maybe lets people know about the hotline if we can get that going, and the other side warning about accidental suicide. One local farmer died tragically because his water and chemicals were next to one another on his tractor. Grabbed the wrong one for a drink. Some of these chemicals shut down your internal organs, you die within minutes.
What would be wonderful, WONDERFUL, would be to find a professor in the States or Canada who does counseling and research on suicide. During my Master’s, I did research with a professor focused on Peace Studies; she helped expand a Teacher’s College in an African country to include counselors as well; the counselors’ training was focused on PTSD due to that country’s ongoing external and civil wars (20 years of these now, in which a lot of child soldiers are involved). To help catalyze something like that, get long-term specialized knowledge and funding available, here, for this problem, would be amazing.
So that’s where I am right now. One thing going, another couple in the works, a hope, and a pipe-dream. Welcome to development, huh?
Friday, November 2, 2007
Dog Blog
It’s a Girl!
We have a new addition to our family, a little puppy! She’s about 8 weeks old, and is a mixture of Chow Chow, Retriever, and Rotweiller (I know, we didn’t find out about the Rotweiller part until she arrived at our door!). Someone out on the main road breeds dogs, and he said he would just give her to us for free. We make sure to tell everyone here that she was a gift, because according to everyone we talk to, dogs like her cost over $100.00! (Even though she’s just a mutt). So our new puppy needed a new name. We decided that it needed to be either a name that had something to do with this country, or a name that reminded us of something we missed from home. So….we decided to call her Riesling. We miss our wine….a lot! I wanted her middle name to be Merlot, but that was maybe going a little overboard.
Since Riesling became part of our family (three weeks ago), life has not been the same. We have not had one uninterrupted night of sleep! She needs fed every three hours, she is not potty-trained (we keep lots of paper towels around for her little messes that she leaves us), and she’s teething right now. So yes, she is just like a small child!
She had some de-worming medicine right before she came to us, and we got to witness how effective that medicine was. A couple days later, I was cleaning out her little bed when I saw what I thought was a rubber band. I definitely didn’t want her choking on a rubber band, so I quickly picked it up with my fingers and threw it away. A few minutes later, I realized she had thrown up in her bed, and there were a million little “rubber bands” in the throw up! Upon closer inspection, I realized they were moving! Hmm………rubber bands don’t move. Nope, they were a bunch of little worms that had worked their way out of her system. For the next few days, we got to see worms everywhere, and I quickly took de-worming medicine for myself. I was fairly paranoid for the next week, wondering if I had worms crawling around in my stomach.
Riesling spent the first few days at school with us. The apartment had not yet been “puppy-proofed”. The students loved her! House pets are not very common here, and collars and leashes are pretty much non-existent. We get a lot of stares when we take her for walks with her little red and blue leash and red, studded collar. She’s kind of like our little celebrity dog. If only we had a little designer bag to carry her around in! Of course, she’ll soon be too big for a bag.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
On the struggles of a developing country:
So, when we got to see the president of the country, he was able to brag about bringing down the debt burden that had been a whirlpool for the national budget. So, take a minute and imagine the implications: Paying the interest on the national debt now takes up 7% of the annual budget, down from…
Wait for it…
94%.
Chew on that one.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Fun with Wildlife
Being out where we are has brought us closer to nature. Much closer. Part of this is that we’re in a developing country, and so nature hasn’t been escaped to the degree that it has been in the States. Flora and fauna aren’t held at bay, allowed in only for landscape decoration. There’s also the fact that we’re in an equatorial country that consists largely of rainforest. We have caymen (smaller alligators), normal alligators, and giant alligators, for example. Finally, our specific site placement is out in the country; we’re not holed up in the middle of the capital city, as is another of our cohort. Each plot of land here is 15 acres, not ¼ of an acre, so there’s plenty of space for things to grow.
There are several effects due to this… proximity that we have with nature. We enjoy beautiful views off of our back porch. The savannah is breathtaking. As soon as you turn off the main road to come back to our set of villages, you know that you’re in for a treat. Everyone grows their own gardens out here: Vegetable and fruit gardens for subsistence, flower gardens for decoration. There are more coconut trees than you can shake a stick at. A typical visit with a family here invariably includes offers of fruits, vegetables, coconut water or milk, etc etc etc. Kids are always sent out to knock down coconuts for us (pretty fun to watch), or grab whatever else is growing off the nearby trees, bushes, vines, and roots.
And then there are the Beast Wars.
It opened with the Morubuntas. These are wasps. They thought that they owned our apartment; we disagreed. There’s a red breed on the front of the house; they build mud domes. Blue wasps in the back burrow into the wood. Another group, which is everywhere, builds the hanging-down nests. It took several weeks, two bottles of spray, a bottle of Clorox, and sitcom-worthy scenes of me in 2 layers of clothes, up on a ladder (miraculously earning me just one sting on my hand, which swelled immensely) before that war was won. We still have one or two fly into the house each day, but that’s better than 20 per day (a mass grave had to be created when every single visitor was killed each day for 3 days).
Another swelling I got was from the fire ants. I’ve been stung by bees and bitten by fire ants in the States, but the guys down here are particularly nasty. After my foot swelled to the point that I couldn’t put on my sandal, I called our medical officers, who confirmed that I most likely was not developing an allergy, but that the local poisoners are particularly effective. Your main option is to dope up on antihistamine and wait it out.
The dispute with the frogs hasn’t gone so well. There’s a monster frog downstairs by the garbage bin; he’s scary, and I’ve contemplated getting a shotgun, or a saddle, to deal with him. But we’ve lost a land invasion and bombing episode launched by these tiny suction-toed wall-climbing frogs. They hop up the outside of the house, up to the second floor where we are, bounce through the windows, and take over the house every night. This is in tandem with the wall-climbing geckos and other lizards that come in each night. However, it’s the frogs that bomb us. They leave little individual pieces of crap EVERYWHERE. Since they climb the walls, you can find these little blessings anywhere in the apartment. Nowhere is safe. I won’t get into specifics, but take a moment to think about the nastiest and most inconvenient places to find frog crap. Go ahead.
We have a few birds who visit us each day. I think that at one point a little nocturnal woodpecker of some sort was setting up shop in our bedroom. I would wake up every morning around 2 or 3 and here him going at it. Lately though, I haven’t heard it, so either I acclimated or he moved on to new digs.
Speaking of woodeaters, another losing battle was the wood-ants. Termites. We have big blue tarp above the walls (remember that walls don’t go all the way to the ceiling in this country) in our kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom, catching all the piles of wood grindings falling from above. We’ve also lost, so far, to the mosquitos; we run inside our bed net every night as soon as it gets dark (6 o’clock), else it’s BIG trouble. Heaven forbid a little guy makes it in with you, and be stuck inside all night, gorging on you as you sleep.
And, without further ado, there’s my shower story. This one is not for the faint of heart. It happened a few weeks back. We shower with the window closed, because otherwise, well, it’s just weird and you feel a bit exposed. This doesn’t really close things up, because we’re missing a pane of glass in the bathroom (among other places), so there’s always a view of the back few acres, some of the road, and the cricket field. And so it was getting dark one evening, and so we were hurrying to get under the mosquito net. I was taking my evening shower, lathering up from the bucket, when a little guy came in through the window.
The next 6 seconds took an eternity. My visitor was as long as my hand from wrist to the tip of my middle finger; I don’t have big hands, but I’m not 7 years old, either. I first identified the chap as a bird that had gotten lost. What else could be that big, black, and come through a second-story window?
As he (or she) tumbled down from the window ledge to the tile floor of the shower, I realized that it wasn’t flying down, but falling. As it writhed and squirmed down through 5 feet of air, prepping for the landing, I realized that he belonged to the order Rodentia. Yes, folks. I was watching a 6-7 inch rat plummet down into my shower floor. With me. Where I was standing. Naked.
I scrambled to escape. My only thought was that the shower stall has a lip that comes up, and there was a chance that the rat would be stuck in there with me, confused and afraid. There’s no rabies in this country, but remember: I was naked. Darwin was forcing me to act. However, I was wet and soapy, so my attempt to run and leap away was like a Bugs Bunny cartoon as I scrambled for traction. I flung myself gracelessly out of the stall, landing in a heap on the floor. Years of martial arts training did manage to help me control my fall, as I landed loudly but relatively painlessly on my side, outside the front of the shower.
It was at this moment, that the rat also managed to make it out of the shower. He scrabbled up onto the shower lip, then leapt off to freedom.
Onto my lower thigh.
Now, in case you’ve forgotten, I’ll remind you one last time: I was naked. This was when words finally started escaping my mouth (remember, it’s only been about 5 seconds). Loud, violent cursing erupted from my mouth, as I entered into dialogue with the squeaking monster on my leg. Luckily, he appeared to be as freaked out by this situation as much as I was. He rebounded, jumping off my leg and making for the back of the bathroom, where he scrambled into a hole between the boards.
It was over. My partner, hearing the bangs of my landing, followed by bellowed curses, was pretty sure I’d managed to seriously injure myself in the shower. We recovered from the situation and laughed about it within a few minutes (with that much adrenaline pumping through me, I had to laugh, to let the twitchies out).
The next night we heard a noise, and woke up to find Bathrat’s teenage son swimming in our half-full toilet-flushing bucket. He couldn’t get out, and was treading water.
I poured some bleach into the bucket with him, and put the lid on. He was dead by morning. I didn’t enjoy that, or putting poison a few days later, but that’s how it is here. You’ve got front row tickets to the Nature show, and you better be ready.
We hope to have the windows screened by Christmas.
There are several effects due to this… proximity that we have with nature. We enjoy beautiful views off of our back porch. The savannah is breathtaking. As soon as you turn off the main road to come back to our set of villages, you know that you’re in for a treat. Everyone grows their own gardens out here: Vegetable and fruit gardens for subsistence, flower gardens for decoration. There are more coconut trees than you can shake a stick at. A typical visit with a family here invariably includes offers of fruits, vegetables, coconut water or milk, etc etc etc. Kids are always sent out to knock down coconuts for us (pretty fun to watch), or grab whatever else is growing off the nearby trees, bushes, vines, and roots.
And then there are the Beast Wars.
It opened with the Morubuntas. These are wasps. They thought that they owned our apartment; we disagreed. There’s a red breed on the front of the house; they build mud domes. Blue wasps in the back burrow into the wood. Another group, which is everywhere, builds the hanging-down nests. It took several weeks, two bottles of spray, a bottle of Clorox, and sitcom-worthy scenes of me in 2 layers of clothes, up on a ladder (miraculously earning me just one sting on my hand, which swelled immensely) before that war was won. We still have one or two fly into the house each day, but that’s better than 20 per day (a mass grave had to be created when every single visitor was killed each day for 3 days).
Another swelling I got was from the fire ants. I’ve been stung by bees and bitten by fire ants in the States, but the guys down here are particularly nasty. After my foot swelled to the point that I couldn’t put on my sandal, I called our medical officers, who confirmed that I most likely was not developing an allergy, but that the local poisoners are particularly effective. Your main option is to dope up on antihistamine and wait it out.
The dispute with the frogs hasn’t gone so well. There’s a monster frog downstairs by the garbage bin; he’s scary, and I’ve contemplated getting a shotgun, or a saddle, to deal with him. But we’ve lost a land invasion and bombing episode launched by these tiny suction-toed wall-climbing frogs. They hop up the outside of the house, up to the second floor where we are, bounce through the windows, and take over the house every night. This is in tandem with the wall-climbing geckos and other lizards that come in each night. However, it’s the frogs that bomb us. They leave little individual pieces of crap EVERYWHERE. Since they climb the walls, you can find these little blessings anywhere in the apartment. Nowhere is safe. I won’t get into specifics, but take a moment to think about the nastiest and most inconvenient places to find frog crap. Go ahead.
We have a few birds who visit us each day. I think that at one point a little nocturnal woodpecker of some sort was setting up shop in our bedroom. I would wake up every morning around 2 or 3 and here him going at it. Lately though, I haven’t heard it, so either I acclimated or he moved on to new digs.
Speaking of woodeaters, another losing battle was the wood-ants. Termites. We have big blue tarp above the walls (remember that walls don’t go all the way to the ceiling in this country) in our kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom, catching all the piles of wood grindings falling from above. We’ve also lost, so far, to the mosquitos; we run inside our bed net every night as soon as it gets dark (6 o’clock), else it’s BIG trouble. Heaven forbid a little guy makes it in with you, and be stuck inside all night, gorging on you as you sleep.
And, without further ado, there’s my shower story. This one is not for the faint of heart. It happened a few weeks back. We shower with the window closed, because otherwise, well, it’s just weird and you feel a bit exposed. This doesn’t really close things up, because we’re missing a pane of glass in the bathroom (among other places), so there’s always a view of the back few acres, some of the road, and the cricket field. And so it was getting dark one evening, and so we were hurrying to get under the mosquito net. I was taking my evening shower, lathering up from the bucket, when a little guy came in through the window.
The next 6 seconds took an eternity. My visitor was as long as my hand from wrist to the tip of my middle finger; I don’t have big hands, but I’m not 7 years old, either. I first identified the chap as a bird that had gotten lost. What else could be that big, black, and come through a second-story window?
As he (or she) tumbled down from the window ledge to the tile floor of the shower, I realized that it wasn’t flying down, but falling. As it writhed and squirmed down through 5 feet of air, prepping for the landing, I realized that he belonged to the order Rodentia. Yes, folks. I was watching a 6-7 inch rat plummet down into my shower floor. With me. Where I was standing. Naked.
I scrambled to escape. My only thought was that the shower stall has a lip that comes up, and there was a chance that the rat would be stuck in there with me, confused and afraid. There’s no rabies in this country, but remember: I was naked. Darwin was forcing me to act. However, I was wet and soapy, so my attempt to run and leap away was like a Bugs Bunny cartoon as I scrambled for traction. I flung myself gracelessly out of the stall, landing in a heap on the floor. Years of martial arts training did manage to help me control my fall, as I landed loudly but relatively painlessly on my side, outside the front of the shower.
It was at this moment, that the rat also managed to make it out of the shower. He scrabbled up onto the shower lip, then leapt off to freedom.
Onto my lower thigh.
Now, in case you’ve forgotten, I’ll remind you one last time: I was naked. This was when words finally started escaping my mouth (remember, it’s only been about 5 seconds). Loud, violent cursing erupted from my mouth, as I entered into dialogue with the squeaking monster on my leg. Luckily, he appeared to be as freaked out by this situation as much as I was. He rebounded, jumping off my leg and making for the back of the bathroom, where he scrambled into a hole between the boards.
It was over. My partner, hearing the bangs of my landing, followed by bellowed curses, was pretty sure I’d managed to seriously injure myself in the shower. We recovered from the situation and laughed about it within a few minutes (with that much adrenaline pumping through me, I had to laugh, to let the twitchies out).
The next night we heard a noise, and woke up to find Bathrat’s teenage son swimming in our half-full toilet-flushing bucket. He couldn’t get out, and was treading water.
I poured some bleach into the bucket with him, and put the lid on. He was dead by morning. I didn’t enjoy that, or putting poison a few days later, but that’s how it is here. You’ve got front row tickets to the Nature show, and you better be ready.
We hope to have the windows screened by Christmas.
Job Description
Her Job
I have finally ironed out my work schedule. I am rotating to three different elementary schools throughout the week. The first couple weeks of school were spent doing reading assessments on all of the students (probably around 400 total). I knew the students were going to be lower than what I am used to seeing back home, but the results definitely shocked me. Most students, regardless of age, cannot read at all and many do not know the letters of the alphabet. Some don’t know the difference between letters, numbers and words. The few words they do know are not sounded out; they have been learned through rote memorization. I will also be working with some seventh graders throughout the week that cannot read or write. One night a week will be devoted to teaching a literacy class for adults. We are dealing with two generations right now that cannot read, so these students have very little help at home. It will definitely be a challenging and rewarding experience.
I have finally ironed out my work schedule. I am rotating to three different elementary schools throughout the week. The first couple weeks of school were spent doing reading assessments on all of the students (probably around 400 total). I knew the students were going to be lower than what I am used to seeing back home, but the results definitely shocked me. Most students, regardless of age, cannot read at all and many do not know the letters of the alphabet. Some don’t know the difference between letters, numbers and words. The few words they do know are not sounded out; they have been learned through rote memorization. I will also be working with some seventh graders throughout the week that cannot read or write. One night a week will be devoted to teaching a literacy class for adults. We are dealing with two generations right now that cannot read, so these students have very little help at home. It will definitely be a challenging and rewarding experience.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Yes, my posts are longer ones
If you want a short one, go down one post (the next one's from her, and she doesn't babble as much as I do).
The honeymoon stage is officially here.
We started our jobs this last week, the beginning of September. School has begun. Well, kinda. We were mistakenly called to the regional capital on Monday, so we missed the first day of school; then Wednesday we were off again, checking out possibilities for our secondary projects. I can’t remember if we’ve explained this yet, but we’re assigned our primary project before we ever come to the country; we’re then encouraged to start a secondary project, which sometimes becomes really more primary than anything, once we’re on site and get to know the community, its needs, our abilities, etc. So there was that.
But yes, we started our jobs last week. She’ll tell you about hers, but I’m at the secondary school, grades 7-11. I teach computers and do guidance and counseling. The reasons for these are, respectively: The school has a brand-new computer lab, donated by a businessman who made it in the States and is now giving back to his childhood home. Keep in mind that this area just got electricity for the first time 9 months ago, and now they’re using flat-panel monitors, with DVD burners and 140-gig hard drives, etc etc etc. It’s really sick; in college, grad school, and teaching at a high school in the States, I never worked with a set of computers this advanced. I’ll be teaching through a digital projector(!) which will be attached to the laptop(!!!) that came with the rest of the computers. Yes, folks: I had to go to a developing country to be handed a laptop by an employer. And my cell signal has 5 bars for the first time ever, thanks to the huge tower just up the road. Development ain’t what it used to be. This isn’t the ‘60s: Countries don’t need roads, power lines, and so forth. They have all that. And their cell grids are better than ours. What they need is knowledge: Technical skill, academic expertise, and so forth. If you come visit, you might as well bring your laptop: The wireless signal in the capital city is clear as day. Can you wander through your own hometown and say the same?
The reason for the second part of my job (G&C) is the suicide thing, which I think I explained earlier. So I’ll be seeing each class (class grades 7,7,7,8,8,9,9,10,11 – a total of 9 classes) 3 times a week: 2 for IT, 1 for G&C. And maybe working with some fish farmers for my secondary, if it works out (or maybe something else – I love ambiguity). Even if the fish thing doesn’t go through, I have a super-double-secret plan, just between you and me, to train all my graduating students, into developing and using Microsoft Access database projects to track… you guessed it! Fish farming! Maybe they’ll get lucky and earn a job as a business or operations manager for some of the farm-owners here, or be able to do it themselves, for profit or just to feed their family. I don’t know if the students graduating this year will be ready for it (we’ll probably be spending most of our time just learning Windows, typing, and Microsoft Word), but definitely the students in Form 5 (11th grade) next year will be ready to run one of those farms. The 7th graders are the most fun – for many of them, this is their first time touching a computer, *ever*. Remember how crazy it is to use a mouse for the first time? I get to watch that every day now. :-) I find that using Microsoft Paint helps some with the mouse skill.
I’d also like to say, right now, that for my primary project, I have The. Best. Supervisor. In. The. World. Supportive doesn’t even begin to describe it. “Do you want to do this? Oh, great. Do you want to do that? No? Great. Oh, you want the keys to the room? Here. Take the laptop home? No problem. Room open in the evenings to do an adult class? Sounds wonderful.” The guy isn’t just The Best Supervisor In The World™, he’s also one of the best members of any community he’s in. He supports everything I do, not because I’m so great, but because he sees how it might be able to help the people in the community. And he could have easily (and reasonably, too, for upkeep purposes) decided to charge a fee for the adult computer course I’ll be offering, but absolutely refused to do so. If miracles start getting ascribed to him, then he’s definitely up for sainthood.
The honeymoon stage is officially here.
We started our jobs this last week, the beginning of September. School has begun. Well, kinda. We were mistakenly called to the regional capital on Monday, so we missed the first day of school; then Wednesday we were off again, checking out possibilities for our secondary projects. I can’t remember if we’ve explained this yet, but we’re assigned our primary project before we ever come to the country; we’re then encouraged to start a secondary project, which sometimes becomes really more primary than anything, once we’re on site and get to know the community, its needs, our abilities, etc. So there was that.
But yes, we started our jobs last week. She’ll tell you about hers, but I’m at the secondary school, grades 7-11. I teach computers and do guidance and counseling. The reasons for these are, respectively: The school has a brand-new computer lab, donated by a businessman who made it in the States and is now giving back to his childhood home. Keep in mind that this area just got electricity for the first time 9 months ago, and now they’re using flat-panel monitors, with DVD burners and 140-gig hard drives, etc etc etc. It’s really sick; in college, grad school, and teaching at a high school in the States, I never worked with a set of computers this advanced. I’ll be teaching through a digital projector(!) which will be attached to the laptop(!!!) that came with the rest of the computers. Yes, folks: I had to go to a developing country to be handed a laptop by an employer. And my cell signal has 5 bars for the first time ever, thanks to the huge tower just up the road. Development ain’t what it used to be. This isn’t the ‘60s: Countries don’t need roads, power lines, and so forth. They have all that. And their cell grids are better than ours. What they need is knowledge: Technical skill, academic expertise, and so forth. If you come visit, you might as well bring your laptop: The wireless signal in the capital city is clear as day. Can you wander through your own hometown and say the same?
The reason for the second part of my job (G&C) is the suicide thing, which I think I explained earlier. So I’ll be seeing each class (class grades 7,7,7,8,8,9,9,10,11 – a total of 9 classes) 3 times a week: 2 for IT, 1 for G&C. And maybe working with some fish farmers for my secondary, if it works out (or maybe something else – I love ambiguity). Even if the fish thing doesn’t go through, I have a super-double-secret plan, just between you and me, to train all my graduating students, into developing and using Microsoft Access database projects to track… you guessed it! Fish farming! Maybe they’ll get lucky and earn a job as a business or operations manager for some of the farm-owners here, or be able to do it themselves, for profit or just to feed their family. I don’t know if the students graduating this year will be ready for it (we’ll probably be spending most of our time just learning Windows, typing, and Microsoft Word), but definitely the students in Form 5 (11th grade) next year will be ready to run one of those farms. The 7th graders are the most fun – for many of them, this is their first time touching a computer, *ever*. Remember how crazy it is to use a mouse for the first time? I get to watch that every day now. :-) I find that using Microsoft Paint helps some with the mouse skill.
I’d also like to say, right now, that for my primary project, I have The. Best. Supervisor. In. The. World. Supportive doesn’t even begin to describe it. “Do you want to do this? Oh, great. Do you want to do that? No? Great. Oh, you want the keys to the room? Here. Take the laptop home? No problem. Room open in the evenings to do an adult class? Sounds wonderful.” The guy isn’t just The Best Supervisor In The World™, he’s also one of the best members of any community he’s in. He supports everything I do, not because I’m so great, but because he sees how it might be able to help the people in the community. And he could have easily (and reasonably, too, for upkeep purposes) decided to charge a fee for the adult computer course I’ll be offering, but absolutely refused to do so. If miracles start getting ascribed to him, then he’s definitely up for sainthood.
So here’s an explanation of my primary job thus far: I will be rotating between three different primary schools. My focus will be on literacy, and I will work mostly with the grade 1 and grade 2 teachers. There are a few VSOs that I will be in close contact with and they have already done an excellent job on improving literacy here. We just finished up our first week of school. As my partner mentioned, Monday we were at the Ministry, Wednesday we checked out a fish farm, and then Thursday I was at another meeting at the Ministry. One of the big differences between schools here and in the states is that a lot of administrative stuff is done the first week of school, while most of that is taken care of over the summer in the states. My meeting on Thursday was to discuss what would be happening this term at schools across the region. I was able to spend two days at school this week, and they are still in the process of distributing books and supplies, getting classrooms ready, etc. The teachers I will be working with are wonderful. Many of the teachers are untrained, and they are more than willing to accept any help that I can give them. Some are only 16 or 17 years old, and right out of secondary school. The Ministry has introduced a new literacy program, and this will be something that I will help to reinforce at schools. I also plan on teaching a few literacy classes for adults in the evenings.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
One post from each of us today
From Him:
Okay, so while she’s written some fairly direct stuff about what we’ve been doing, I’ve been pretty vague in my posts. Random thoughts, notes from the front, that sort of thing. To be honest, there hasn’t been that much to write about since we’ve gotten to site (coming up on a month now). We’ve been running a summer program for the secondary school students (basically grades 7-11) for the last few weeks, and the final week of it is this coming one; that way the students get one week off before school starts back up.
The secondary school, which is where I’ll be working once the school year starts, has just under 200 students, and we’ve had a summer attendance of about 50-60. She teaches literacy-related stuff, and I’m doing “IT” – while it’s referred to as Information Technology, which sounds sexy and exciting, it’s basically typing and mastery of Windows and Microsoft Office. She can tell you in her entry what exactly literacy is.
So, basically, with me the students have been figuring out why they bump a button and ALL THE LETTERS COME OUT AS CAPITALS, the difference between delete and backspace, the magical Shift button, etc. Lately, we’ve gotten into even wilder things – Cut, Copy, and Paste, and so forth. I know, I know – it’s nuts. Who knew that I could not only teaching high school Spanish, but IT as well?
How do I get myself into these things?
Moving on from our professional lives, things have been interesting these last two weeks for us personally and socially. We’ve barely had to cook a single dinner for ourselves. Last Friday, we visited the next village over, being toured around by two friends of ours that live in our village and know the area. As we were going about on our BRAND NEW BIKES (which have already broken in various places a grand total of 5 times, in 2 weeks), we came down off a bridge and I was waved over by some guys at a rum shop.
Now, for the males serving here, this will be a common occurrence. There are little shops on the roadside, everywhere, and they sell snacks and bike tires and random things. They also often sell beer, rum, and vodka. They’re called Rum Shops, and basically about 5-15 men will be sitting and standing around, at any time of day, drinking. When the white boy goes by, just trying to live his life, he will be waved over and invited to “Troe a shot” (throw a shot). Now, refusing is generally okay, but you also don’t want to be rude. You need to be careful though, because Troeing a Shot can become killing two bottles of vodka at around noon on a Wednesday. So Friday we’re being shown the next town, and some guys wave me over. Well, it’s not like I’m off to work, or meet some official, so I go over, say hi, troe a shot (or two).
So, next thing, I’m invited (with She [remember: the only feminine pronoun is She]) to a guy’s house for dinner Saturday. Then, on the way back from the tour, we stop at some friend or other of our tour guides, and bing bang boom, dinner Wednesday was taken care of. We visited a Mandir (Hindu church) Sunday, and afterwards were invited by some new friends we made just then to some function or other, and bam, dinner Sunday was given to us. Monday we ate some Hassa, some fish we were given by the family that fed us Saturday; Tuesday we ate at She [not Her; SHE] counterpart (counterpart = professional associate on site, set up through our organization). Wednesday, I mentioned; and so the week proceeds, through Saturday, when we attended a “Jandi”, a Hindu thanksgiving. And we’re visiting new churches every Sunday as we get invited (we’re booked up for the next 3 weeks, at least), and every time we visit a new place, we get more invitations.
We were told early on that we would basically be celebrities. We’re obviously foreign (aka, White); not just any foreigners, but from the U.S., which is where many of the people here wish to end up; and we’re volunteers, helping out the community and giving up time out of our lives, giving up family and friends and money, to be here. So there’s general all-around positive feeling toward us. Plus, being blindingly white, people can spot us from WAY out, so lots of times we meet new people, but they’ve already seen us around – doing our morning run, shopping in the market, whatever. And we’re given more fruit than we know what to do with.
So, yeah. That celebrity thing was no joke. It will definitely be weird when we return to the states and find a new home – everyone won’t be fawning over us, kids won’t be staring, we won’t get dinner invitations for every day of the week. I mean, we were triple-booked this last Sunday; if we’d had enough hours in the day, we could have done a couple weddings along with the church service and lunch we attended.
Okay, so while she’s written some fairly direct stuff about what we’ve been doing, I’ve been pretty vague in my posts. Random thoughts, notes from the front, that sort of thing. To be honest, there hasn’t been that much to write about since we’ve gotten to site (coming up on a month now). We’ve been running a summer program for the secondary school students (basically grades 7-11) for the last few weeks, and the final week of it is this coming one; that way the students get one week off before school starts back up.
The secondary school, which is where I’ll be working once the school year starts, has just under 200 students, and we’ve had a summer attendance of about 50-60. She teaches literacy-related stuff, and I’m doing “IT” – while it’s referred to as Information Technology, which sounds sexy and exciting, it’s basically typing and mastery of Windows and Microsoft Office. She can tell you in her entry what exactly literacy is.
So, basically, with me the students have been figuring out why they bump a button and ALL THE LETTERS COME OUT AS CAPITALS, the difference between delete and backspace, the magical Shift button, etc. Lately, we’ve gotten into even wilder things – Cut, Copy, and Paste, and so forth. I know, I know – it’s nuts. Who knew that I could not only teaching high school Spanish, but IT as well?
How do I get myself into these things?
Moving on from our professional lives, things have been interesting these last two weeks for us personally and socially. We’ve barely had to cook a single dinner for ourselves. Last Friday, we visited the next village over, being toured around by two friends of ours that live in our village and know the area. As we were going about on our BRAND NEW BIKES (which have already broken in various places a grand total of 5 times, in 2 weeks), we came down off a bridge and I was waved over by some guys at a rum shop.
Now, for the males serving here, this will be a common occurrence. There are little shops on the roadside, everywhere, and they sell snacks and bike tires and random things. They also often sell beer, rum, and vodka. They’re called Rum Shops, and basically about 5-15 men will be sitting and standing around, at any time of day, drinking. When the white boy goes by, just trying to live his life, he will be waved over and invited to “Troe a shot” (throw a shot). Now, refusing is generally okay, but you also don’t want to be rude. You need to be careful though, because Troeing a Shot can become killing two bottles of vodka at around noon on a Wednesday. So Friday we’re being shown the next town, and some guys wave me over. Well, it’s not like I’m off to work, or meet some official, so I go over, say hi, troe a shot (or two).
So, next thing, I’m invited (with She [remember: the only feminine pronoun is She]) to a guy’s house for dinner Saturday. Then, on the way back from the tour, we stop at some friend or other of our tour guides, and bing bang boom, dinner Wednesday was taken care of. We visited a Mandir (Hindu church) Sunday, and afterwards were invited by some new friends we made just then to some function or other, and bam, dinner Sunday was given to us. Monday we ate some Hassa, some fish we were given by the family that fed us Saturday; Tuesday we ate at She [not Her; SHE] counterpart (counterpart = professional associate on site, set up through our organization). Wednesday, I mentioned; and so the week proceeds, through Saturday, when we attended a “Jandi”, a Hindu thanksgiving. And we’re visiting new churches every Sunday as we get invited (we’re booked up for the next 3 weeks, at least), and every time we visit a new place, we get more invitations.
We were told early on that we would basically be celebrities. We’re obviously foreign (aka, White); not just any foreigners, but from the U.S., which is where many of the people here wish to end up; and we’re volunteers, helping out the community and giving up time out of our lives, giving up family and friends and money, to be here. So there’s general all-around positive feeling toward us. Plus, being blindingly white, people can spot us from WAY out, so lots of times we meet new people, but they’ve already seen us around – doing our morning run, shopping in the market, whatever. And we’re given more fruit than we know what to do with.
So, yeah. That celebrity thing was no joke. It will definitely be weird when we return to the states and find a new home – everyone won’t be fawning over us, kids won’t be staring, we won’t get dinner invitations for every day of the week. I mean, we were triple-booked this last Sunday; if we’d had enough hours in the day, we could have done a couple weddings along with the church service and lunch we attended.
From Her:
Ode to Chacos
Oh Chacos, how I love thee…Let me count the ways….
Your amazing tread
The super adjustable straps that allow for a custom fit
The super cool tan lines you have left on my feet
The way you match every article of clothing I have here (which isn’t much, but still…J )
How “tick” (thick) and durable you are
In case you haven’t realized yet, Chacos are pretty much the most amazing sandal ever, and if you do not own a pair yet, you need to go invest in some.
Leave it to Beaver….Remember that show? With Mrs. Cleaver? Well, sometimes I think we have gone back in time to that era. I have become Mrs. Cleaver, only I don’t have a cute little apron to wear when I cook. I am quickly mastering the talent of handwashing. This is not a very enjoyable task. Each week we make a couple different fruit juices for breakfast. One is a mixture of pine (pineapple), bananas, and oranges; the other is a mixture of cherries and passion fruit. They’re pretty amazing. Then, I get another pine and make fresh pine jam for the week. This is by far the most domestic I have ever been in my life. When not in the apartment, I wear skirts pretty much 24/7, because as a female, that’s what you do here. It’s definitely interesting to learn new ways of doing things, even though it may be frustrating at times when all I want to do is wear a tank top and shorts!
Ode to Chacos
Oh Chacos, how I love thee…Let me count the ways….
Your amazing tread
The super adjustable straps that allow for a custom fit
The super cool tan lines you have left on my feet
The way you match every article of clothing I have here (which isn’t much, but still…J )
How “tick” (thick) and durable you are
In case you haven’t realized yet, Chacos are pretty much the most amazing sandal ever, and if you do not own a pair yet, you need to go invest in some.
Leave it to Beaver….Remember that show? With Mrs. Cleaver? Well, sometimes I think we have gone back in time to that era. I have become Mrs. Cleaver, only I don’t have a cute little apron to wear when I cook. I am quickly mastering the talent of handwashing. This is not a very enjoyable task. Each week we make a couple different fruit juices for breakfast. One is a mixture of pine (pineapple), bananas, and oranges; the other is a mixture of cherries and passion fruit. They’re pretty amazing. Then, I get another pine and make fresh pine jam for the week. This is by far the most domestic I have ever been in my life. When not in the apartment, I wear skirts pretty much 24/7, because as a female, that’s what you do here. It’s definitely interesting to learn new ways of doing things, even though it may be frustrating at times when all I want to do is wear a tank top and shorts!
Saturday, August 11, 2007
A 2-parter
Somebody said, early on, that the more our site placement resembles what we were used to in the States, the harder it will be for us to adjust. I find myself agreeing with this statement a great deal. [Note: I just finished the post, and am looking at it – the first bit is long, and if you get tired of it, just skip down to the horizontal line; read the last paragraph before the line, and then the rest of the stuff after]
My partner and I are living in an apartment together, just like last year. It’s about the same size, if not a bit larger. One superficial difference is that the national architectural style emphasizes walls that do NOT go all the way to the ceiling – this helps to allow for the free flow of air (the blessed “breeze”) through the house; since we’re on the top floor of a building, it’s build with a peaked roof, we have walls that go up to a normal height, and then basically a barn roof extending up over us. Other than this, and the fact that the building is a bit outdated – something I got to live in during university years anyway, not to mention that I grew up in an old farmhouse now pushing 100 years old – when we walk into our home, (and this is key) there aren’t many aesthetic discrepancies between life here and life in the U.S.
There are, however, deeper issues. We have a scheduled blackout once per week, for maintenance of the grid. “Scheduled” is a relative term; sometimes The Schedule blacks us out on Tuesday. Sometimes Wednesday. Or maybe Thursday. Whatever. Also, when big storms (mostly in the form of high winds) come through, the power goes down.
This would be less of an issue if the electricity (“current” as it’s referred to here, as in, “We’ve had Current for almost a year in this town”) weren’t integral to the water system.
Let me give a quick overview of our water. We have two hugungous (slightly larger than ginormous) tanks sitting 10’ from our building, elevated up a bit higher than us and connected to the building by a pipe. These tanks previously caught and stored rainwater. This is a somewhat tricky proposition, but then again it’s rainy season 8 months out of the year here. With the recent advent of Current to the area, the tanks have been covered over, so no more rainwater comes in – this is a mostly good thing, as sometimes birds fly overhead and, well, you get the point; or bugs fly in and die, etc. – and the tanks are now filled, twice a day, from the local water supply. Water is pumped up high into the tanks; we then get water due to the magic of gravity (they’re higher than we are by just a bit, and water flows downhill). Simple, huh?
Well, then you add in that there’s a regular blackout once a week. During the blackout, you can’t turn on the pump, so the next day we routinely run out of water. Then there are the unscheduled blackouts. Then there’s the weekend, when the guy that turns on the pump isn’t around as much, or maybe he’s sick, or has a function attend to elsewhere. Or there’s the fact that we’re the 3rd apartment in the building to be filled (out of 4), and the others below us have full showers and one even has a clotheswasher, so there’s more use on the line. This is no biggie for the other two apartments, but we’re at the very top, and the tanks are only a bit higher than us; once the tanks get about 1/2way empty, the water level and gravity no longer work to our advantage. The shower is first to go, but we bucket-bathe anyway. Then the kitchen sink drops offline; finally the bathroom sink, as the lowest outlet for water, tapers off. Everyone else, below us, happily uses til the tanks are empty. We resort to the Saveyer 5 gallon jug I set up and refill regularly, and pray that the tanks get refilled before Saveyer is done. Saveyer Jug, as in Save yer @$$, is pronounced “Savior”.
I know this is a bit wordy to get to the point that water is tricky here. And heaven knows, if our biggest complaint at the end of two years is irregular water flow, then we’ve done pretty well by our organization’s standards (recent groups had a variety of gastro-intestinal illnesses, worms, a hernia, pregnancy, assault, etc.). I mean, after all, we’re not volunteering to do work in London or Boston. But I just want you to imagine moving to a new place that is roughly similar in appearance to every apartment and house you’ve inhabited for the last 25 years of your life, if a bit of a fixer-upper. But it’s not the same. Electricity is tricky, water moreso, and you know every (and I mean EVERY) detail of your neighbors’ lives (and vice versa), because there are no full walls, and certainly no insulation. The closer it is to home in the States, the harder it is to adjust – definitely true.
It certainly is interesting. As with our “Stanley” hammer that I mentioned in the last post (R.I.P.), things often seem a certain way on the surface. It might take good hard use, or just time, but usually once you push down below the surface of the water, you can see how everything is just a little off from what it seemed at first. Sometimes it’s an easy thing to adjust to, but sometimes, and some things, and some people, you have a lot of investment in – financial, emotional, or otherwise – and finding out the hard way that things are different can be a jolt. Being in a new culture can be like reliving your early teen years (remember how fun those were?) or your first years on your own, all over again – you just get to live life, see what happens, and learn from your mistakes and mistaken assumptions.
--------------------------------
A last, slightly more amusing note – the language barrier here is at times hilarious and also absolutely mystifying. The two of us love that it’s *the two of us*, and that as a couple we get to go through most every interaction together. This increases our comprehension of conversations to about 70%, and one of us can usually cover when the other completely misses the conversational boat. The language here is a type of Creolese, which has a distinct and differentiated form in each Caribbean country, so knowing one will only help you slightly with any other, or with Lewsiana-talk. Basically, it’s faster and clipped, and a lot of grammar rules are dropped. Few prepositions (at, to, from), and there’s only one pronoun form used for each person – me he she we you they. Also, tenses are highly optional.
Rough examples (and remember, we’re not masters yet):
English Local Creolese
I went down there. Me go down deh.
Tell him to come downstairs. Tell he com bottom.
(Upstairs is “top”: Most buildings are only two levels, so there’s just Top and Bottom).
We went down there. Awbedee deh.
Yeah, you like that last one? Lots of times “we” becomes “Awbee”. I think it’s like “We’ll ALL BE doing …whatever”. And then “We’re going down” or “Let’s all go” becomes Awbedee. I spent a good 3 or 4 days trying to figure out who the heck this Awbee person was, and why I never met them, especially when they were always mentioned in conjunction with some group activity of which I was a part.
Oh, here’s one last one. When a local sees something demonstrated by some masterful person, snorts, and retorts “Ikoodadooda”, smile and agree. Of course they could have done that.
My partner and I are living in an apartment together, just like last year. It’s about the same size, if not a bit larger. One superficial difference is that the national architectural style emphasizes walls that do NOT go all the way to the ceiling – this helps to allow for the free flow of air (the blessed “breeze”) through the house; since we’re on the top floor of a building, it’s build with a peaked roof, we have walls that go up to a normal height, and then basically a barn roof extending up over us. Other than this, and the fact that the building is a bit outdated – something I got to live in during university years anyway, not to mention that I grew up in an old farmhouse now pushing 100 years old – when we walk into our home, (and this is key) there aren’t many aesthetic discrepancies between life here and life in the U.S.
There are, however, deeper issues. We have a scheduled blackout once per week, for maintenance of the grid. “Scheduled” is a relative term; sometimes The Schedule blacks us out on Tuesday. Sometimes Wednesday. Or maybe Thursday. Whatever. Also, when big storms (mostly in the form of high winds) come through, the power goes down.
This would be less of an issue if the electricity (“current” as it’s referred to here, as in, “We’ve had Current for almost a year in this town”) weren’t integral to the water system.
Let me give a quick overview of our water. We have two hugungous (slightly larger than ginormous) tanks sitting 10’ from our building, elevated up a bit higher than us and connected to the building by a pipe. These tanks previously caught and stored rainwater. This is a somewhat tricky proposition, but then again it’s rainy season 8 months out of the year here. With the recent advent of Current to the area, the tanks have been covered over, so no more rainwater comes in – this is a mostly good thing, as sometimes birds fly overhead and, well, you get the point; or bugs fly in and die, etc. – and the tanks are now filled, twice a day, from the local water supply. Water is pumped up high into the tanks; we then get water due to the magic of gravity (they’re higher than we are by just a bit, and water flows downhill). Simple, huh?
Well, then you add in that there’s a regular blackout once a week. During the blackout, you can’t turn on the pump, so the next day we routinely run out of water. Then there are the unscheduled blackouts. Then there’s the weekend, when the guy that turns on the pump isn’t around as much, or maybe he’s sick, or has a function attend to elsewhere. Or there’s the fact that we’re the 3rd apartment in the building to be filled (out of 4), and the others below us have full showers and one even has a clotheswasher, so there’s more use on the line. This is no biggie for the other two apartments, but we’re at the very top, and the tanks are only a bit higher than us; once the tanks get about 1/2way empty, the water level and gravity no longer work to our advantage. The shower is first to go, but we bucket-bathe anyway. Then the kitchen sink drops offline; finally the bathroom sink, as the lowest outlet for water, tapers off. Everyone else, below us, happily uses til the tanks are empty. We resort to the Saveyer 5 gallon jug I set up and refill regularly, and pray that the tanks get refilled before Saveyer is done. Saveyer Jug, as in Save yer @$$, is pronounced “Savior”.
I know this is a bit wordy to get to the point that water is tricky here. And heaven knows, if our biggest complaint at the end of two years is irregular water flow, then we’ve done pretty well by our organization’s standards (recent groups had a variety of gastro-intestinal illnesses, worms, a hernia, pregnancy, assault, etc.). I mean, after all, we’re not volunteering to do work in London or Boston. But I just want you to imagine moving to a new place that is roughly similar in appearance to every apartment and house you’ve inhabited for the last 25 years of your life, if a bit of a fixer-upper. But it’s not the same. Electricity is tricky, water moreso, and you know every (and I mean EVERY) detail of your neighbors’ lives (and vice versa), because there are no full walls, and certainly no insulation. The closer it is to home in the States, the harder it is to adjust – definitely true.
It certainly is interesting. As with our “Stanley” hammer that I mentioned in the last post (R.I.P.), things often seem a certain way on the surface. It might take good hard use, or just time, but usually once you push down below the surface of the water, you can see how everything is just a little off from what it seemed at first. Sometimes it’s an easy thing to adjust to, but sometimes, and some things, and some people, you have a lot of investment in – financial, emotional, or otherwise – and finding out the hard way that things are different can be a jolt. Being in a new culture can be like reliving your early teen years (remember how fun those were?) or your first years on your own, all over again – you just get to live life, see what happens, and learn from your mistakes and mistaken assumptions.
--------------------------------
A last, slightly more amusing note – the language barrier here is at times hilarious and also absolutely mystifying. The two of us love that it’s *the two of us*, and that as a couple we get to go through most every interaction together. This increases our comprehension of conversations to about 70%, and one of us can usually cover when the other completely misses the conversational boat. The language here is a type of Creolese, which has a distinct and differentiated form in each Caribbean country, so knowing one will only help you slightly with any other, or with Lewsiana-talk. Basically, it’s faster and clipped, and a lot of grammar rules are dropped. Few prepositions (at, to, from), and there’s only one pronoun form used for each person – me he she we you they. Also, tenses are highly optional.
Rough examples (and remember, we’re not masters yet):
English Local Creolese
I went down there. Me go down deh.
Tell him to come downstairs. Tell he com bottom.
(Upstairs is “top”: Most buildings are only two levels, so there’s just Top and Bottom).
We went down there. Awbedee deh.
Yeah, you like that last one? Lots of times “we” becomes “Awbee”. I think it’s like “We’ll ALL BE doing …whatever”. And then “We’re going down” or “Let’s all go” becomes Awbedee. I spent a good 3 or 4 days trying to figure out who the heck this Awbee person was, and why I never met them, especially when they were always mentioned in conjunction with some group activity of which I was a part.
Oh, here’s one last one. When a local sees something demonstrated by some masterful person, snorts, and retorts “Ikoodadooda”, smile and agree. Of course they could have done that.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Post Two of the Day
From Him:
We've now been at site for a week and a half. Things are going smoothly. We're getting to know people, getting our living arrangements worked out, starting to go out visiting people and places, and running our summer program 2 days a week; my partner does literacy work, and I do some computer literacy -- typing, working with Microsoft Office, etc. I was having some random thoughts the other day after I finished working with the students in the computer lab, so I typed them out and saved them.
When I used to think of South America, I thought Spanish. I thought burritos, beans and rice, and so forth. I was wrong. Forget the fact that Brazil, larger than the continental United States, speaks Portuguese, and exports more beef than the U.S. There’s also the Caribbean. That’s where we are. Bear that in mind, as you read about our adventures and experiences.
Aside from this awakening, the two of us have learned a few other things. Here are some examples:
Things I have learned:
Traveling at 140 km an hour in a minibus isn’t scary, when you think that 5 km = 2 miles – so, less than 60 mph. When you realize that the ratio is more like 3 km to 2 miles, meaning that you’re going more like 90 mph, it’s much scarier.
Some cockroaches just can’t be killed. They can only be negotiated with.
Just because a hammer says “Stanley” on the side doesn’t mean that it’s a Stanley Steel hammer; it could easily break, for example, the very first time you use it, leaving you to discover that, beneath the yellow veneer of the handle, it's constructed of some strange crappy plasticish material. You need to look for the “Stanley” manufactured (embedded) into the steel hammer head.
Carrying 1 five-gallon water jug (almost 50 lbs.) makes you strong and manly in the eyes of others. Carrying 2 makes you stronger and manlier to them – and really stupid to yourself.
Curtains are much more important than you realize.
8 o’clock is a perfectly reasonable bedtime if flying bugs are all over your house, attracted by the light. 7 o’clock is fine too, if there’s a blackout.
Killing 40 wasps in 2 days does absolutely nothing to diminish the number flying in through the windows every afternoon.
When you’re the new person in town, and everyone knows it, and you’ll only be around for a limited period of time, you easily become an Anonymous Confessor. People will often tell you much more than you need to know about situations, or history.
Thank God for books.
Thank God for curry.
You think that Z is Zee. But it’s not. It’s Zed. This can cause more problems than you might think. (Stupid British influences...)
You can easily bathe in one bucket of water. In fact, if you put forth a little effort, you can do everything below the head in about a 1/2 gallon. Hairwashing, facewashing, and shaving take up the rest of the bucket.
Taking a chicken from squawking to being eaten is less work than I expected.
We've now been at site for a week and a half. Things are going smoothly. We're getting to know people, getting our living arrangements worked out, starting to go out visiting people and places, and running our summer program 2 days a week; my partner does literacy work, and I do some computer literacy -- typing, working with Microsoft Office, etc. I was having some random thoughts the other day after I finished working with the students in the computer lab, so I typed them out and saved them.
When I used to think of South America, I thought Spanish. I thought burritos, beans and rice, and so forth. I was wrong. Forget the fact that Brazil, larger than the continental United States, speaks Portuguese, and exports more beef than the U.S. There’s also the Caribbean. That’s where we are. Bear that in mind, as you read about our adventures and experiences.
Aside from this awakening, the two of us have learned a few other things. Here are some examples:
Things I have learned:
Traveling at 140 km an hour in a minibus isn’t scary, when you think that 5 km = 2 miles – so, less than 60 mph. When you realize that the ratio is more like 3 km to 2 miles, meaning that you’re going more like 90 mph, it’s much scarier.
Some cockroaches just can’t be killed. They can only be negotiated with.
Just because a hammer says “Stanley” on the side doesn’t mean that it’s a Stanley Steel hammer; it could easily break, for example, the very first time you use it, leaving you to discover that, beneath the yellow veneer of the handle, it's constructed of some strange crappy plasticish material. You need to look for the “Stanley” manufactured (embedded) into the steel hammer head.
Carrying 1 five-gallon water jug (almost 50 lbs.) makes you strong and manly in the eyes of others. Carrying 2 makes you stronger and manlier to them – and really stupid to yourself.
Curtains are much more important than you realize.
8 o’clock is a perfectly reasonable bedtime if flying bugs are all over your house, attracted by the light. 7 o’clock is fine too, if there’s a blackout.
Killing 40 wasps in 2 days does absolutely nothing to diminish the number flying in through the windows every afternoon.
When you’re the new person in town, and everyone knows it, and you’ll only be around for a limited period of time, you easily become an Anonymous Confessor. People will often tell you much more than you need to know about situations, or history.
Thank God for books.
Thank God for curry.
You think that Z is Zee. But it’s not. It’s Zed. This can cause more problems than you might think. (Stupid British influences...)
You can easily bathe in one bucket of water. In fact, if you put forth a little effort, you can do everything below the head in about a 1/2 gallon. Hairwashing, facewashing, and shaving take up the rest of the bucket.
Taking a chicken from squawking to being eaten is less work than I expected.
Post One of the Day
From Her:
(Written about a week ago -- our swearing-in was Thursday, 7/26/07)
We did it! We’re officially volunteers now. Our swearing-in ceremony was held at the U.S. Ambassador’s house in the capital city. It was a gorgeous, balmy, humid day. Everyone dressed up in their formal dresses and ties. Girls wore their hair down for the first time in two months (it’s too hot to wear it down here). We were serenaded by a steel-drum band that played hits by Lauren Hill and Celine Dion. They also played our national anthem, which was still surprisingly inspiring to listen to, even when performed on a steel-drum. Speeches were given by His Excellency, the Ambassador; the country director; the Minister of Health and a representative from the Ministry of Education; and the best speech of all was given by one of the trainees, whom we appointed unanimously to give the speech for us. After being sworn-in and receiving our pins and certificates, we enjoyed a variety of appetizers, including chocolate éclairs, chicken curry pastries, tuna balls, and chicken and vegetable pastries. Two members from each host family were invited to attend as well. Our mom and dad attended the event.
The highlight of the day was by far the party that we threw for all volunteers, host families, and staff. My partner and I were involved in the planning committee, and with everyone’s help, the party turned out to be a great success. We were glad to help with it. After all, we planned a wedding….this was no big deal! The host families helped to prepare the food, which was delicious! The menu included:
Phoulouri dipped in Mango Sour (fried balls made from split pea flour)
Dhal Puri (Roti with the yellow split peas inside)
Chicken Curry with Potatoes
Cookup (Rice and Beans)
Channa (chickpeas with spices)
Fruit
If we were to plan our wedding again, I think this would definitely be my new menu. The food here is amazing. The party was a great time to talk with current volunteers and to get to know them a little better. This was also the last night to be able to spend time with our host families. We will definitely miss them! I know I will be making frequent phone calls to ask for cooking help (it was agreed by everyone that our mom was the best cook in our village).
While on the subject of food, we are no longer in the lap of luxury that we had during training. We will be making all of our food from here on out. Luckily, I did learn how to make some of the dishes and wrote down instructions for them. We just got a refrigerator delivered, and we bought an electrical two-burner range top to do our cooking. The first night we couldn’t get the range top to work, so we ate barely cooked okra. I would not recommend it! We’re looking forward to going to the market on Saturday and asking them to kill and pluck a chicken for us. I think I might have to look away as they do this.
(Written about a week ago -- our swearing-in was Thursday, 7/26/07)
We did it! We’re officially volunteers now. Our swearing-in ceremony was held at the U.S. Ambassador’s house in the capital city. It was a gorgeous, balmy, humid day. Everyone dressed up in their formal dresses and ties. Girls wore their hair down for the first time in two months (it’s too hot to wear it down here). We were serenaded by a steel-drum band that played hits by Lauren Hill and Celine Dion. They also played our national anthem, which was still surprisingly inspiring to listen to, even when performed on a steel-drum. Speeches were given by His Excellency, the Ambassador; the country director; the Minister of Health and a representative from the Ministry of Education; and the best speech of all was given by one of the trainees, whom we appointed unanimously to give the speech for us. After being sworn-in and receiving our pins and certificates, we enjoyed a variety of appetizers, including chocolate éclairs, chicken curry pastries, tuna balls, and chicken and vegetable pastries. Two members from each host family were invited to attend as well. Our mom and dad attended the event.
The highlight of the day was by far the party that we threw for all volunteers, host families, and staff. My partner and I were involved in the planning committee, and with everyone’s help, the party turned out to be a great success. We were glad to help with it. After all, we planned a wedding….this was no big deal! The host families helped to prepare the food, which was delicious! The menu included:
Phoulouri dipped in Mango Sour (fried balls made from split pea flour)
Dhal Puri (Roti with the yellow split peas inside)
Chicken Curry with Potatoes
Cookup (Rice and Beans)
Channa (chickpeas with spices)
Fruit
If we were to plan our wedding again, I think this would definitely be my new menu. The food here is amazing. The party was a great time to talk with current volunteers and to get to know them a little better. This was also the last night to be able to spend time with our host families. We will definitely miss them! I know I will be making frequent phone calls to ask for cooking help (it was agreed by everyone that our mom was the best cook in our village).
While on the subject of food, we are no longer in the lap of luxury that we had during training. We will be making all of our food from here on out. Luckily, I did learn how to make some of the dishes and wrote down instructions for them. We just got a refrigerator delivered, and we bought an electrical two-burner range top to do our cooking. The first night we couldn’t get the range top to work, so we ate barely cooked okra. I would not recommend it! We’re looking forward to going to the market on Saturday and asking them to kill and pluck a chicken for us. I think I might have to look away as they do this.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Life moves on...
...and it's moving on here, and back home. We just celebrated our first anniversary, and we'll be celebrating two more before we leave this place. My brother just had a birthday, each of our cousins a child (congratulations and congratulations!), and the first of many friends' weddings is occurring as I write this post. Yet another just got engaged. Best wishes to everyone as these events occur. And Mom, in case we get caught up in craziness at site and don't make it to the internet in the next few weeks, happy birthday and anniversary!
We're sad to be missing all this stuff, but of course life here is pretty exciting. We're finishing training this week, and moving to site at the end of the week. The two of us are heavily involved in putting together the party for swearing-in, so between that and the anniversary, there's been some reminiscing back to last year. As a current volunteer put it, you need four things for a good party: Enough food, good music, low lighting, and booze. Of course, having great people there is a plus as well.
This last one won't be a problem, but we will have fewer of the great people. We started in the U.S. with 33 people; we're now down to 30. The bonds formed here are strong, and so the last week has been rough, as some amazing people have decided to return to the U.S. and pursue different paths. Of course, we're happy that they made the best decision for them, and I for one look forward to hearing about their different adventures in the next few years. I hope they didn't take too many worms back to the States as tagalong passengers.
We've already disclosed to our families stories about our site, which we visited a week or two ago. We're in a small farming community, just a bit off the beaten path of the country. Not far though -- no 17-hour drive for us, or multiple boat rides, as with some of our compatriots. Just a ferry ride; and by the time we leave, we won't even have that, as there's a new bridge being built along our route.
Our site village just got electricity (referred to as "current") within the last year, so we're coming right in a period of big change in our community. A businessman donated amazing computers (pretty much top-of-the-line, by any standards) to the secondary school where I'll be working, so I'll be spending some time helping students familiarize themselves with that sort of thing. Mostly, though, I'll be doing some counseling and community interventions. The school and village are having some issues with student retention (and resident retention), suicide, and other things, so we'll see what can happen. My partner will be working with multiple elementary schools in our village area (they all feed into the one secondary school), focusing on literacy.
Everyone at our site seems pretty excited that we're there (as are we), and it feels like we have a great deal of support. From the students and youth, to staff, community leaders and other organizations, people seem ready for us to be there and are ready to get involved in whatever it is we end up doing. We're also anxious to dive in, get to know the people and the community, and figure out how best we can serve the area. We may end up involved in some local business opportunities as well, connecting people and expanding infrastructure. The thing I love most about our organization is the freedom we will have to find how best we can fit into and change existing structures and best effect positive change at our site. Two years from now, we may be doing work that no one (ourselves, our organization, our community) ever predicted. If you like structure and clearly defined job descriptions, giggle yourself to sleep at night picturing me working with a local fishing co-op.
That's all for now. We've grabbed a lot of books from the organization's library; volunteers about to leave the country are giving numbers in the (many) dozens when recounting the books they've read over their period of service. With no TV and little social life, there's little to do aside from integrate, work, and read.
What a great couple of years!
We're sad to be missing all this stuff, but of course life here is pretty exciting. We're finishing training this week, and moving to site at the end of the week. The two of us are heavily involved in putting together the party for swearing-in, so between that and the anniversary, there's been some reminiscing back to last year. As a current volunteer put it, you need four things for a good party: Enough food, good music, low lighting, and booze. Of course, having great people there is a plus as well.
This last one won't be a problem, but we will have fewer of the great people. We started in the U.S. with 33 people; we're now down to 30. The bonds formed here are strong, and so the last week has been rough, as some amazing people have decided to return to the U.S. and pursue different paths. Of course, we're happy that they made the best decision for them, and I for one look forward to hearing about their different adventures in the next few years. I hope they didn't take too many worms back to the States as tagalong passengers.
We've already disclosed to our families stories about our site, which we visited a week or two ago. We're in a small farming community, just a bit off the beaten path of the country. Not far though -- no 17-hour drive for us, or multiple boat rides, as with some of our compatriots. Just a ferry ride; and by the time we leave, we won't even have that, as there's a new bridge being built along our route.
Our site village just got electricity (referred to as "current") within the last year, so we're coming right in a period of big change in our community. A businessman donated amazing computers (pretty much top-of-the-line, by any standards) to the secondary school where I'll be working, so I'll be spending some time helping students familiarize themselves with that sort of thing. Mostly, though, I'll be doing some counseling and community interventions. The school and village are having some issues with student retention (and resident retention), suicide, and other things, so we'll see what can happen. My partner will be working with multiple elementary schools in our village area (they all feed into the one secondary school), focusing on literacy.
Everyone at our site seems pretty excited that we're there (as are we), and it feels like we have a great deal of support. From the students and youth, to staff, community leaders and other organizations, people seem ready for us to be there and are ready to get involved in whatever it is we end up doing. We're also anxious to dive in, get to know the people and the community, and figure out how best we can serve the area. We may end up involved in some local business opportunities as well, connecting people and expanding infrastructure. The thing I love most about our organization is the freedom we will have to find how best we can fit into and change existing structures and best effect positive change at our site. Two years from now, we may be doing work that no one (ourselves, our organization, our community) ever predicted. If you like structure and clearly defined job descriptions, giggle yourself to sleep at night picturing me working with a local fishing co-op.
That's all for now. We've grabbed a lot of books from the organization's library; volunteers about to leave the country are giving numbers in the (many) dozens when recounting the books they've read over their period of service. With no TV and little social life, there's little to do aside from integrate, work, and read.
What a great couple of years!
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Random info about the country
Thought I'd do a brief post to share random thoughts and things I've noticed about my new home. Some of these things are funny, particularly since they occur no matter what mood you're in, or what your own agenda is, so feel free to imagine any number of situations with these occurrences. So here, in no particular order, are a few:
First off, the population has remained almost flat for several decades now, and for the entire country is less than 800,000; this is because of the constant outgoing flood moving to the U.S., and also Canada and the rest of the Caribbean. I've been told that many people here consider the country to be a 51st state of the U.S. Everyone has family there, but it's almost entirely in New York; so if you say that you're from the U.S., it is often (reasonably) assumed that you're from New York. There's a lot of coverage of the States and Europe in the news. Overall sentiment toward the U.S. is hugely positive.
Cricket is not just a sport. It's a religion.
"Just now" is a term used to denote an upcoming time; that time may be upcoming in 5 minutes, 5 hours, or 5 months. This is *not* a contextual term -- that is, you can't tell from the situation what the heck period of time is meant. When you hear "Just now" used, you better just find something with which to occupy yourself for a while. Obviously, people from the U.S. are some of the most time-anal people in the world, so this is a bit of an adjustment.
People here, particularly men, like big speaker systems. In cars, in homes, anywhere. In every car trunk is a huge added-in bass speaker box. Driving time is not talking time. It is bass-thumping time. 5 in the morning can also be bass-thumping time, if your neighbor is feeling spunky, and this is normal.
The main means of transportation for us is the MiniBus system. They're vans, which seat anywhere from 12 to 30 depending on how high people are willing to stack themselves (we get out once the stacking starts, and it isn't all that common). They basically work like multi-person taxis with set routes, and are really pretty brilliant. So you just go to the nearest main road, and stand by the side of the road til one comes along (in anywhere from 30 seconds to 15 minutes), and then go til you hit the point on their route closest to your stop -- so sometimes you ride a few Minibuses to get to your destination. The minibuses also subscribe to the "Biggers is Better" theory of stereo speakers, and by the time I return stateside I may be legally deaf. All they play is Akon (a rapper); there is a Minibus with a DVD player and screen (yeah, I know, pretty crazy), but they play Akon music videos. It's very strange, and I now know Akon's entire repertoire. Michael Bolton is also popular. With the exact same people that play Akon. Who have no problem reconciling this in their minds.
Making a kissing sound is a great way to get people's attention. This can be done in a sexual way, but is also done by street vendors, or between family members. People here can let loose a kissing sound that can be heard at 30 yards. I'm still practicing mine (much to my partner's chagrin).
There are men called Touts who work as a sort of subcontractor to stir up business for their employer. For example, in the main Minibus park in the capital city, the MB operators get Touts to fill up their bus. Mostly the Touts yell and kiss (for the sound, dummy, not for romance), or cajole to do this; sometimes the try to grab you and get you in the bus (if you don't take a firm stand, you may end up on a bus to god-knows-where). Sometimes (and this is a really tricky one) the Touts will fill up an empty bus themselves, so that you'll get in thinking that, with the bus full, the driver will leave soon and not have to sit around waiting for more passengers; once a few passengers get in, the Touts get out, and there you are, waiting for a bus to fill. Good, huh?
Basically, the people are great here, and there's a lot of ingenuity in ways that you may not be used to if you're coming from somewhere else. There's a ridiculous amount of technical skill here, as well -- many many people can fix their own cars, and every day I meet people who can do welding, electrician work, plumbing, carpentry, and on and on. All that's missing, in some cases, is enough demand to keep them busy.
First off, the population has remained almost flat for several decades now, and for the entire country is less than 800,000; this is because of the constant outgoing flood moving to the U.S., and also Canada and the rest of the Caribbean. I've been told that many people here consider the country to be a 51st state of the U.S. Everyone has family there, but it's almost entirely in New York; so if you say that you're from the U.S., it is often (reasonably) assumed that you're from New York. There's a lot of coverage of the States and Europe in the news. Overall sentiment toward the U.S. is hugely positive.
Cricket is not just a sport. It's a religion.
"Just now" is a term used to denote an upcoming time; that time may be upcoming in 5 minutes, 5 hours, or 5 months. This is *not* a contextual term -- that is, you can't tell from the situation what the heck period of time is meant. When you hear "Just now" used, you better just find something with which to occupy yourself for a while. Obviously, people from the U.S. are some of the most time-anal people in the world, so this is a bit of an adjustment.
People here, particularly men, like big speaker systems. In cars, in homes, anywhere. In every car trunk is a huge added-in bass speaker box. Driving time is not talking time. It is bass-thumping time. 5 in the morning can also be bass-thumping time, if your neighbor is feeling spunky, and this is normal.
The main means of transportation for us is the MiniBus system. They're vans, which seat anywhere from 12 to 30 depending on how high people are willing to stack themselves (we get out once the stacking starts, and it isn't all that common). They basically work like multi-person taxis with set routes, and are really pretty brilliant. So you just go to the nearest main road, and stand by the side of the road til one comes along (in anywhere from 30 seconds to 15 minutes), and then go til you hit the point on their route closest to your stop -- so sometimes you ride a few Minibuses to get to your destination. The minibuses also subscribe to the "Biggers is Better" theory of stereo speakers, and by the time I return stateside I may be legally deaf. All they play is Akon (a rapper); there is a Minibus with a DVD player and screen (yeah, I know, pretty crazy), but they play Akon music videos. It's very strange, and I now know Akon's entire repertoire. Michael Bolton is also popular. With the exact same people that play Akon. Who have no problem reconciling this in their minds.
Making a kissing sound is a great way to get people's attention. This can be done in a sexual way, but is also done by street vendors, or between family members. People here can let loose a kissing sound that can be heard at 30 yards. I'm still practicing mine (much to my partner's chagrin).
There are men called Touts who work as a sort of subcontractor to stir up business for their employer. For example, in the main Minibus park in the capital city, the MB operators get Touts to fill up their bus. Mostly the Touts yell and kiss (for the sound, dummy, not for romance), or cajole to do this; sometimes the try to grab you and get you in the bus (if you don't take a firm stand, you may end up on a bus to god-knows-where). Sometimes (and this is a really tricky one) the Touts will fill up an empty bus themselves, so that you'll get in thinking that, with the bus full, the driver will leave soon and not have to sit around waiting for more passengers; once a few passengers get in, the Touts get out, and there you are, waiting for a bus to fill. Good, huh?
Basically, the people are great here, and there's a lot of ingenuity in ways that you may not be used to if you're coming from somewhere else. There's a ridiculous amount of technical skill here, as well -- many many people can fix their own cars, and every day I meet people who can do welding, electrician work, plumbing, carpentry, and on and on. All that's missing, in some cases, is enough demand to keep them busy.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Halfway done with training!
We're about halfway done with training. Last week we took a trip to a small Amerindian village. Everyone slept in hammocks with mosquito nets. We swam in the black water, took a hike in the woods, played soccer with the children, and just relaxed for two days. It was a very refreshing trip. Some people did end up getting worms in their feet from walking barefoot in the sand. They look like a blackhead, but when popped, a worm comes out! We were all pretty paranoid for a few days, wondering if we would get worms.
We're learning how to make some pretty incredible foods, such as roti (a very thick, pita-like bread), chana, chicken curry, pumpkin curry, passion fruit juice, etc. The food here is amazing, and fruits are readily available.
Tomorrow we are all getting together for the Fourth of July to eat traditional food, play cricket, and swim in the black water. Thursday we will find out our site placements. The anticipation is almost unbearable. We will then spend a week at our sites.
If anyone would like our mailing address, just let us know.
We're learning how to make some pretty incredible foods, such as roti (a very thick, pita-like bread), chana, chicken curry, pumpkin curry, passion fruit juice, etc. The food here is amazing, and fruits are readily available.
Tomorrow we are all getting together for the Fourth of July to eat traditional food, play cricket, and swim in the black water. Thursday we will find out our site placements. The anticipation is almost unbearable. We will then spend a week at our sites.
If anyone would like our mailing address, just let us know.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
So, we made it through PST (pre-service training), in Miami; more early training in the capital city of the country, and we're now placed with our host family.
Miami was a great time -- we got to meet the 31 other trainees (we're not "volunteers" until we've been graduated from our two months of training). So imagine 31 other people, from age 21 and freshly graduated from undergrad (literally, the Sunday 2 days before Miami), to retiree age, and everything in between; hailing from Alaska to the Philippines to Cali to Vermont, and even Iowa(!); individuals having traveled to all 50 states, or 68 countries (these are two specific people I'm talking about), South Africa, Japan, Argentina, and everywhere in between. We have native Ukrainian speakers, native Spanish speakers, whatever, wherever, whoever, you name it and we've got it. It's awesome just to sit and talk to everyone.
Okay, so enough gushing about our new crushes. Miami was basically getting to know all these new colleagues, and getting in the proper mindset. Then, two days in our new capitol. Sorry for all the vagueness with place names down here, but we need to be a bit discreet. G-town is great, bustling, and a bit intimidating. There are places we're not allowed to go as trainees, til we've acculturated a bit and can read danger signals well enough to know what's what. We met our supervisors, trainers, and the other long-term workers who basically take every new group and get them situated.
We have coordinators specifically devoted to helping us with health, with security, with culture, and on and on. Even one or two supervisors for our service project (you know -- the thing we'll actually be doing while we're here). They all seem like great people, and quite competent as well. We got the first 3 of a number of shots, were given our choice of 3 malaria medications, each with its own unique and interesting side effects, and basically introduced to the country, the capital city, and the food and culture. We also got to bask in the last air conditioning we'll get for two years.
So, after two full days of this, we were placed with our host families. Each volunteer gets their own host family, except of course the two of us (the only married couple), who get to stay together with one family. There are 9 trainees placed with families in our village, out of the 33 total, all of us in Education (as opposed to Health, the other main activity that volunteers will be doing here).
Our host family has had different trainees stay with them 3 times now (we're the fourth), so they know more about this thing than we do. Our official host mom is actually the grandmother, the top of the 3 generations (6 people total, 2 in each generation) living together in our house (the bottom of it is her granddaughter, age 3, who is of course hilarious and adorable). Since they've hosted before, the older 4 members all do a great job slowing down and speaking fuller English with us, as opposed to the local dialect of Caribbean patois that is spoken here. The two little kids, on the other hand, are much harder to understand. Our family is of East Indian descent, as opposed to African, and we live in a mixed town (some are entirely one or the other). The men work out of the home, the grandmother (our host mom) runs the show at home, and the mother runs a little shop that sits at the front of the property, on the street, where you can buy Skittles, or beer, or Clorox, or sandals.
That's plenty for now. In the meantime, training continues in a nearby village center, we have training in the capital city every Friday, and the weekends leave us free to explore and meet new people (and try to get a grip on the local dialect). We'll post more when we have a chance. Maybe we'll talk about the anaconda that was recently pulled from the trench out back. 25 feet or so long.
No worries, it's dead now.
Miami was a great time -- we got to meet the 31 other trainees (we're not "volunteers" until we've been graduated from our two months of training). So imagine 31 other people, from age 21 and freshly graduated from undergrad (literally, the Sunday 2 days before Miami), to retiree age, and everything in between; hailing from Alaska to the Philippines to Cali to Vermont, and even Iowa(!); individuals having traveled to all 50 states, or 68 countries (these are two specific people I'm talking about), South Africa, Japan, Argentina, and everywhere in between. We have native Ukrainian speakers, native Spanish speakers, whatever, wherever, whoever, you name it and we've got it. It's awesome just to sit and talk to everyone.
Okay, so enough gushing about our new crushes. Miami was basically getting to know all these new colleagues, and getting in the proper mindset. Then, two days in our new capitol. Sorry for all the vagueness with place names down here, but we need to be a bit discreet. G-town is great, bustling, and a bit intimidating. There are places we're not allowed to go as trainees, til we've acculturated a bit and can read danger signals well enough to know what's what. We met our supervisors, trainers, and the other long-term workers who basically take every new group and get them situated.
We have coordinators specifically devoted to helping us with health, with security, with culture, and on and on. Even one or two supervisors for our service project (you know -- the thing we'll actually be doing while we're here). They all seem like great people, and quite competent as well. We got the first 3 of a number of shots, were given our choice of 3 malaria medications, each with its own unique and interesting side effects, and basically introduced to the country, the capital city, and the food and culture. We also got to bask in the last air conditioning we'll get for two years.
So, after two full days of this, we were placed with our host families. Each volunteer gets their own host family, except of course the two of us (the only married couple), who get to stay together with one family. There are 9 trainees placed with families in our village, out of the 33 total, all of us in Education (as opposed to Health, the other main activity that volunteers will be doing here).
Our host family has had different trainees stay with them 3 times now (we're the fourth), so they know more about this thing than we do. Our official host mom is actually the grandmother, the top of the 3 generations (6 people total, 2 in each generation) living together in our house (the bottom of it is her granddaughter, age 3, who is of course hilarious and adorable). Since they've hosted before, the older 4 members all do a great job slowing down and speaking fuller English with us, as opposed to the local dialect of Caribbean patois that is spoken here. The two little kids, on the other hand, are much harder to understand. Our family is of East Indian descent, as opposed to African, and we live in a mixed town (some are entirely one or the other). The men work out of the home, the grandmother (our host mom) runs the show at home, and the mother runs a little shop that sits at the front of the property, on the street, where you can buy Skittles, or beer, or Clorox, or sandals.
That's plenty for now. In the meantime, training continues in a nearby village center, we have training in the capital city every Friday, and the weekends leave us free to explore and meet new people (and try to get a grip on the local dialect). We'll post more when we have a chance. Maybe we'll talk about the anaconda that was recently pulled from the trench out back. 25 feet or so long.
No worries, it's dead now.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Trip to Ohio
Hey folks. We're working out some timeline details for our pre-trip activities. What it boils down to is that we should get to Ohio early May 25, Friday morning; we'll quickly drop off some things of mine there before continuing on to Wooster to spend time with her grandparents. We'll be back in Columbus Saturday afternoon. We're trying to set aside a little space somewhere for friends to meet that afternoon and evening -- right now we're looking at Brazenhead, an Irish pub in Dublin (NW side of Columbus). So if you have some free time the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, come on over -- the address is 56 N High St, Dublin, OH.
To get there, take I-270 whatever direction you need to, to get to the NW side of Columbus. Take exit 17-A, which is 33-E and 161-E. High Street will come up in no time; make a left and find a place to park. Brazenhead has a nice, relaxed atmosphere (it's a true pub, not a bar -- big difference, so don't worry if you're not a drinker) and a good outdoor area, so hopefully the weather will be nice.
We're flying out either Monday night or Tuesday morning, it looks like, so all of Monday and the better part of Sunday, we'd like to reserve for immediate family. It looks like we can put pictures up on this blog, so any non-incriminating pictures from the evening could end up here.
To get there, take I-270 whatever direction you need to, to get to the NW side of Columbus. Take exit 17-A, which is 33-E and 161-E. High Street will come up in no time; make a left and find a place to park. Brazenhead has a nice, relaxed atmosphere (it's a true pub, not a bar -- big difference, so don't worry if you're not a drinker) and a good outdoor area, so hopefully the weather will be nice.
We're flying out either Monday night or Tuesday morning, it looks like, so all of Monday and the better part of Sunday, we'd like to reserve for immediate family. It looks like we can put pictures up on this blog, so any non-incriminating pictures from the evening could end up here.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Getting ready for the Trip
This is our new blog to keep our family and friends updated on our travels. We are anxiously awaiting our departure on May 29. In the meantime, we have a lot of things to take care of, including packing up all of our belongings and driving them up to Ohio where they will be stored for a couple years. We are hoping to have internet access while in country, so that we can keep this blog updated.
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