I am pleased to report that the composting project proposal that I have been working with a local farmers’ co-operative on for the past year and a half was finally submitted and fully funded by the United Nations! After continually having run into speed-bump after speed-bump, and experiencing a near red-tape mummification associated with trying to get money from international donors, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to think that I would leave here in September not having accomplished anything tangible with the co-op. God is faithful, however, and has his own perfect timing. The project will take place over the course of 2 years and construct 24 wind-row aerated compost pits at the co-operative, co-operative members’ farms, and at 9 schools. Kitchen waste will be collected from area hotels and paper waste will be collected from schools to provide some of the raw materials needed to sustain the pits. We also plan to conduct educational initiatives with schools and farmers to inform the public about the environmental benefits of composting. Even though it’s a shame that I won’t be around for much of the project’s implementation, I feel blessed to have been able to help the co-operative at least secure the funding.
The 4th of July was a couple of days ago and to celebrate, our Peace Corps Country Director had us over to her house for a barbecue. The 2nd Eastern Caribbean group to serve on St. Lucia (back in the 1960’s) was having a reunion on St. Lucia and joined us at the party. It was fascinating to hear about their experiences and about all the change that has happened in St. Lucia over the past 30 odd years. For example, the fact that it used to take 2 full days to get around the island rather than 3-4 hours. Or, that Pigeon Point, which is now connected to St. Lucia, used to be an island. One of the EC2 return volunteers expressed that “it’s hard not to feel old when geographic landmarks have changed during the course of your lifetime.” One of the volunteers also grew up in Vermont and lives about 15 minutes away from Middlebury. Peculiar…
So as my time is wrapping up I’m starting to think about what life post Peace Corps will look like. Besides teasing with the idea of applying to be a Peace Corps recruiter, I honestly don’t have much of a clue, so throw those suggestions at me. I do know one thing though. Before heading back home, I am going traveling with a few other Peace Corps Volunteers to Central America for about a month. First stop, Honduras. With the coup and everything plane tickets are dirt cheap, so we’ve got to capitalize. Sorry mom…bad joke. We’re still working out all the details, but we’re planning on starting out in Guatemala, hitting El Salvador and Nicaragua, and ending up in Costa Rica where we’ll meet up with a couple other volunteers, one of whom has a sister living there. I then plan to fly back to Middlebury in early October to visit some friends, and drop down to Boston and NYC as well before heading back to Kansas sometime in mid to late October. So, if you live in any of these places, let me know so I can hunt you down! After traveling I’m looking forward to heading back home to reconnect with my family, which seems to be pretty busy while I’m away. Cousins/friends getting married, babies on the way, and my brother’s engagement within the last week, which I couldn’t be more thrilled to hear. CONGRATS!!!
Monday, July 6, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
End of the Strike, Mosquitos, and Funeral Requests
After roughly 2 weeks of striking, the civil service unions and the government have finally reached a compromise. Teachers were out of school during the strike, while nurses, fireman, and some policemen were on a “go slow.” Firemen had to be brought in from neighboring islands in order to keep the airports open and national exams for a number of primary school students were cancelled. Fortunately, however, everything is back to normal now.
So I’ve finally put up my mosquito net in my bedroom…3 months before the end of my service. What’s the use at this point, you might ask? Wouldn’t you have crossed that off the to-do list within the 1st month or two? Well, I could jokingly defend my lack of action as my own unique attempt at cultural integration, as things oftentimes find a way of getting put on the backburner here (“just now”), but that wouldn’t altogether be true. In fact, for the first ½ year I had a fan, which prohibited mosquitoes from bothering me too much. Then, my parents came, so in trying to make them feel as comfortable as possible, I put the net up in the guest room. While I ultimately proved successful in this endeavor, the process of hanging the net was about as easy as eating Halloween candy with a sense of restraint and self-control. Needless to say, it was not a process I wished to repeat. Just after my parents left, the fan went kaputt. I decided not to buy a new one as it was the “colder” (yeah, right) time of the year and wasn’t essential. Then, upon realizing how much cheaper my power bill was having not had a fan, I vowed never to buy another one. Strangely enough, the mosquitoes didn’t give me too much trouble for that year following. At present, however, they’re determined to make up for lost time and are attacking at full force. I couldn’t sleep well at nights because of the incessant buzzing in my ears. I would even try to position myself so my entire body was covered, excluding a small hole for air, but they still managed to successfully be a nuisance. So, in the end, 2 years into my Peace Corps service, I decided it was high time to hang the mosquito net in my room. While my nights are now peaceful and undisturbed, my days remain spent wildly running around my house clapping my hands enough to make a passerby think a fireworks show was happening inside.
MaPego, my landlord and former host mom, once again gave me something to laugh about. She came up to me after a funeral service and informed me, with a sense of unaffected, calculated determinedness, that she wanted me to do her a favor. The conversation went something like this.
MaPego: Ben!
Ben: Yeah, MaPego. What’s up?
MaPego: I’m alright. Let me tell you that.
Ben: What’s that?
MaPego: (resolutely; to the point) I want you to come to the garden and take out my picture of me and the flowers, so that when I die, they can put a nice picture in the program.
Ben: (taken aback, but somehow not terribly surprised) No problem. Anytime.
The favor she asked wasn’t in and of itself what struck me as so funny, but rather the matter-of-fact manner in which she asked it.
My good friend, Alison Duquette, recently came for a short visit. It was great to see her and catch up on post-college life. Her trip was very short, so we weren’t able to see everything, but we squeezed just about as much as we could in. Having the chance to reunite with a good friend makes me look forward to reconnecting with friends once I return to the States.
I just recently got back from the close of service (COS) conference. All the volunteers in my Eastern Caribbean class (EC77) came together for 3 days to be briefed on all the medical and administrative forms we have to fill out before our service ends, as well as discuss wrapping up our time and the process of reintegrating to life back in the States. It was nice to see all the other volunteers from other islands again and I particularly enjoyed our Peace Corps Olympics competition. We had a variety of competitions including swimming, Frisbee, geography bee, chess, eating, and, of course, staring. It was a close race, but fortunately St. Lucia emerged victorious. :) The conference really put it in perspective that the end of my time here in St. Lucia is fast approaching. I’m ambivalent about this, but think that I’ll be ready when the time comes.
In the work world, the farmers’ co-operative I’ve been working with has submitted our composting proposal and should be receiving funding sometime soon. I’m also collaborating with a Japanese Volunteer to facilitate a recorder workshop at the primary school to teach the teachers how to play the recorder and have a solid understanding of music theory.
So I’ve finally put up my mosquito net in my bedroom…3 months before the end of my service. What’s the use at this point, you might ask? Wouldn’t you have crossed that off the to-do list within the 1st month or two? Well, I could jokingly defend my lack of action as my own unique attempt at cultural integration, as things oftentimes find a way of getting put on the backburner here (“just now”), but that wouldn’t altogether be true. In fact, for the first ½ year I had a fan, which prohibited mosquitoes from bothering me too much. Then, my parents came, so in trying to make them feel as comfortable as possible, I put the net up in the guest room. While I ultimately proved successful in this endeavor, the process of hanging the net was about as easy as eating Halloween candy with a sense of restraint and self-control. Needless to say, it was not a process I wished to repeat. Just after my parents left, the fan went kaputt. I decided not to buy a new one as it was the “colder” (yeah, right) time of the year and wasn’t essential. Then, upon realizing how much cheaper my power bill was having not had a fan, I vowed never to buy another one. Strangely enough, the mosquitoes didn’t give me too much trouble for that year following. At present, however, they’re determined to make up for lost time and are attacking at full force. I couldn’t sleep well at nights because of the incessant buzzing in my ears. I would even try to position myself so my entire body was covered, excluding a small hole for air, but they still managed to successfully be a nuisance. So, in the end, 2 years into my Peace Corps service, I decided it was high time to hang the mosquito net in my room. While my nights are now peaceful and undisturbed, my days remain spent wildly running around my house clapping my hands enough to make a passerby think a fireworks show was happening inside.
MaPego, my landlord and former host mom, once again gave me something to laugh about. She came up to me after a funeral service and informed me, with a sense of unaffected, calculated determinedness, that she wanted me to do her a favor. The conversation went something like this.
MaPego: Ben!
Ben: Yeah, MaPego. What’s up?
MaPego: I’m alright. Let me tell you that.
Ben: What’s that?
MaPego: (resolutely; to the point) I want you to come to the garden and take out my picture of me and the flowers, so that when I die, they can put a nice picture in the program.
Ben: (taken aback, but somehow not terribly surprised) No problem. Anytime.
The favor she asked wasn’t in and of itself what struck me as so funny, but rather the matter-of-fact manner in which she asked it.
My good friend, Alison Duquette, recently came for a short visit. It was great to see her and catch up on post-college life. Her trip was very short, so we weren’t able to see everything, but we squeezed just about as much as we could in. Having the chance to reunite with a good friend makes me look forward to reconnecting with friends once I return to the States.
I just recently got back from the close of service (COS) conference. All the volunteers in my Eastern Caribbean class (EC77) came together for 3 days to be briefed on all the medical and administrative forms we have to fill out before our service ends, as well as discuss wrapping up our time and the process of reintegrating to life back in the States. It was nice to see all the other volunteers from other islands again and I particularly enjoyed our Peace Corps Olympics competition. We had a variety of competitions including swimming, Frisbee, geography bee, chess, eating, and, of course, staring. It was a close race, but fortunately St. Lucia emerged victorious. :) The conference really put it in perspective that the end of my time here in St. Lucia is fast approaching. I’m ambivalent about this, but think that I’ll be ready when the time comes.
In the work world, the farmers’ co-operative I’ve been working with has submitted our composting proposal and should be receiving funding sometime soon. I’m also collaborating with a Japanese Volunteer to facilitate a recorder workshop at the primary school to teach the teachers how to play the recorder and have a solid understanding of music theory.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Sad news, Strike, and Playing Violin in a Kimono
I have a bit of sad news. My dog, Mr. Bojangles a.k.a Bo, recently died. As would occasionally happen from time to time but never cause much of a problem, his chain came unhooked one night. Usually if this happened he would come back by himself or a neighbor would come and tell me he/she saw him wandering around. This time, however, when I woke up the next morning I couldn’t find him. After asking around, a couple of my neighbors helped me look for him. We eventually found him next to the drain in front of my house, his jaw clenched close with grass inside of it. He apparently must have eaten some rat poison and was eating the grass to try and vomit it up. My neighbors helped me bury him under my grapefruit tree, which I’m grateful for. It was difficult to do, and he is missed, but I’m thankful to have had his company during the majority of my time down here. I couldn’t help but smile and think it a bit coincidental that a couple days after Bo died, the Obama family named their new dog Bo. A friend of mine jokingly said that he must have been reincarnated. I initially said that he must not have improved much in terms of his behavior from his previous life, as he didn’t come back as something better than a dog. But then again, if it is him, he is now living a life of doggy luxury in the White House, so he must have gotten something right, eh?
I’m still killing cockroaches like it’s a part-time job, but sometimes apathy takes over and I adopt the “in sight, out of mind” mentality. After all, if my neighbors all report the same problems despite spraying endless amounts of insecticide spray, what’s the use? The new development, however, is the sound of scampering coming from between the inside of my roof and the galvanized outer bit. At night I’ll occasionally hear feet pitter-patting around followed by a thud, as whatever it is running around bumps into the wall. I guess it must be a rat/mouse or something of the sort, but as I walk around my house I see absolutely no point of entry, which leaves me baffled as to how the little putz got in there. In the end, I honestly could care less whether it lives up there rent-free. As long as it doesn’t find it’s way downstairs, or worse yet decide to kick the can up there, we’re good to go. Too bad you already booked your plane ticket, Alison! Ha! :)
Several months ago the government promised the teachers a pay raise, a chunk of which was to take effect the end of this month. Given the economic crisis and absence of projected growth, the government has recently asked the teachers for deferral of their pay raise. Last Monday was supposed to be the first day back at school after Easter break, but the teachers’ union called a special meeting with the Ministry of Education to demand their promised money. The Union and the Government weren’t able to reach a compromise, so as the teachers did not receive their pay increase due on Wednesday, they went on strike Thursday and Friday. Today (Monday) the Union is calling another meeting with Government, so hopefully they will be able to reach a compromise so school can resume tomorrow. I can understand where both sides are coming from. We’ll see what happens.
Japan has an overseas volunteer organization equivalent to Peace Corps that is also in St. Lucia. One of the Japanese volunteers who recently finished her service worked at a home for senior citizens and disabled persons in Soufriere. She plays the piano, and put on a farewell concert for the people at the home. Another Japanese volunteer and myself joined her, playing the recorder and the violin. A couple of nights before the concert Emi (the Japanese volunteer) called to tell me that they would be wearing traditional Japanese clothes and were wondering whether I would also like to dress in Japanese attire. Sure, why the heck not? After all, how many chances does an American get to play traditional Creole songs with a couple of Japanese people for St. Lucian senior citizens, all while wearing a kimono? Check.
I’m still killing cockroaches like it’s a part-time job, but sometimes apathy takes over and I adopt the “in sight, out of mind” mentality. After all, if my neighbors all report the same problems despite spraying endless amounts of insecticide spray, what’s the use? The new development, however, is the sound of scampering coming from between the inside of my roof and the galvanized outer bit. At night I’ll occasionally hear feet pitter-patting around followed by a thud, as whatever it is running around bumps into the wall. I guess it must be a rat/mouse or something of the sort, but as I walk around my house I see absolutely no point of entry, which leaves me baffled as to how the little putz got in there. In the end, I honestly could care less whether it lives up there rent-free. As long as it doesn’t find it’s way downstairs, or worse yet decide to kick the can up there, we’re good to go. Too bad you already booked your plane ticket, Alison! Ha! :)
Several months ago the government promised the teachers a pay raise, a chunk of which was to take effect the end of this month. Given the economic crisis and absence of projected growth, the government has recently asked the teachers for deferral of their pay raise. Last Monday was supposed to be the first day back at school after Easter break, but the teachers’ union called a special meeting with the Ministry of Education to demand their promised money. The Union and the Government weren’t able to reach a compromise, so as the teachers did not receive their pay increase due on Wednesday, they went on strike Thursday and Friday. Today (Monday) the Union is calling another meeting with Government, so hopefully they will be able to reach a compromise so school can resume tomorrow. I can understand where both sides are coming from. We’ll see what happens.
Japan has an overseas volunteer organization equivalent to Peace Corps that is also in St. Lucia. One of the Japanese volunteers who recently finished her service worked at a home for senior citizens and disabled persons in Soufriere. She plays the piano, and put on a farewell concert for the people at the home. Another Japanese volunteer and myself joined her, playing the recorder and the violin. A couple of nights before the concert Emi (the Japanese volunteer) called to tell me that they would be wearing traditional Japanese clothes and were wondering whether I would also like to dress in Japanese attire. Sure, why the heck not? After all, how many chances does an American get to play traditional Creole songs with a couple of Japanese people for St. Lucian senior citizens, all while wearing a kimono? Check.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Independence Day, Birthday Surprises :)
On February 22nd, St. Lucia celebrated its 30th anniversary as an independent nation. Like last year, Fond St. Jacques held a wide range of fun traditional activities as well as different sporting events. Fortunately this year the activities were a bit better organized and less stressful to plan. Unlike last year, when my friend and I took the monkey (actually, more realistically a gorilla) on our backs and weren’t very successful in recruiting help along the way, this year the Youth and Sports Club we had formed last year collectively took on the task. Even though the arrangements still proved to be a bit hectic and stressful at times, it was much more manageable this year with more hands on deck. This year we had an 8 person relay marathon, a football competition, and a day of fun activities (sprints, sack & 3-legged races, lime & spoon, endurance contest, etc.) which culminated with the greasy pole and pig extravaganzas. The greasy pole contest was particularly fun to watch this year, as the pole was a bit taller and took a solid hour plus to successfully summit. Time after time a group of guys would get ½ to ¾ of the way up in quest to attain the prized cash and bottle of rum, only to come crashing down to the cheers and jeers of spectators. The greasy pig catch was a bit anti-climactic, because upon its release, the pig slowly turned and walked in the opposite direction of the mass of people sprinting after it. It was therefore oblivious to the fact that a mob of pork-eating fiends (including myself) were barreling down upon it, and that running might have been the appropriate course of action. In the end, a big mass of people piled atop the poor creature, very much like a fumble in football (except in this case, they were grabbing for a live pig skin).
So I recently turned 24 and had a birthday unlike any other. It started off pretty normally. I took the morning off and went to a fellow PCV’s house to hang out, watch a movie, and eat lunch. As there was a funeral in Fond St. Jacques that afternoon to attend, and I’m not one that is typically fond of crazy parties with lots of people, I didn’t have any big birthday plans for after the funeral besides having my best friend from St. Lucia over for dinner. As I went to the funeral to play my violin with the church choir, things started to take a few twists and turns. During the funeral service, one of the teachers at the school who’s part of the church choir quietly said to me, “mwen ka vini a kay ou oswe-a pou manje ek ni a bon tan” (I am coming at your home tonight to eat and have a good time). As the funeral service was just starting I didn’t properly respond but just chuckled a bit, all the while wondering if she was serious or just giving me a joke. Had my friend invited her over for dinner without telling me, or had he told her and she was just pulling my leg? Things got even more interesting after the service finished. The burial site of the deceased was about an hour’s drive away in Vieux Fort, and I originally intended on just attending the service itself and not going to the gravesite. As I left the church to check my friend about coming over for dinner, I saw that he was in the back of the choir bus that would soon be heading to the gravesite. As I approached the bus, which just so happened to be full of people that I know from the choir, my friend told me that he invited a mutual friend (not the one mentioned earlier) to come over as well. A few other people then said that they’d be coming as well. My best pal then asked whether I’d had a chance to get some drinks and stuff in town for later. Slightly confused, I responded that I had been in town earlier and had gotten a couple of things for dinner, but that I didn’t have much of anything substantial at my house to have a party perse. He then asked whether I would have a chance to go back into town and get some things for later. Now here’s when my mind started to send up little red flags and had just a tad bit of trouble understanding what was going on. I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as though I was nearly being thrown into the position of preparing everything for a birthday party which I essentially didn’t expect, plan for, or even in the least bit want to have. Hmmm….as a bus full of people, some of whom potentially could be invading my house in hopes of Ben’s Birthday Bash 2009, quietly sat, I searched, and searched, and searched some more for an appropriate response. Finally, I replied with, “well…I was actually going to head down to the gravesite since the whole choir is going.” Doesn’t it seem a bit strange that someone (who just so happens to be me) would go as far as to see a burial just to avoid planning a joyful celebration of his or her own life? Oh, the irony of it all. Upon returning to Fond St. Jacques, I explained to my friend that I didn’t really expect or plan to have a lot of people at my house, and that I didn’t feel like going to town last minute to rush and arrange things. Fortunately, he had already put 2 and 2 together, told me not to worry, and went to town himself to shop. More fortunately still, nobody else ended up coming over and I was allowed to have a quiet evening, largely I suspect because people were otherwise engaged at the funeral “after-party” of sorts.
In comparison to the United States, roles are sometimes reversed in St. Lucia when it comes to certain social occasions and celebrations. I mentioned a bit about it in my last blog post how this manifests itself at funerals, and as you can see, a similar trend carries through for birthdays. Except when you’re a child, if it’s your birthday and you’re celebrating it, you are expected to do so by throwing a party for everybody else. So, for example, instead of your friends taking you out for a birthday dinner, you would be expected to provide food and drink for all your friends. Fortunately I was able to get out of it. After all, it’s my party and I can not have it if I don’t want to.
So I recently turned 24 and had a birthday unlike any other. It started off pretty normally. I took the morning off and went to a fellow PCV’s house to hang out, watch a movie, and eat lunch. As there was a funeral in Fond St. Jacques that afternoon to attend, and I’m not one that is typically fond of crazy parties with lots of people, I didn’t have any big birthday plans for after the funeral besides having my best friend from St. Lucia over for dinner. As I went to the funeral to play my violin with the church choir, things started to take a few twists and turns. During the funeral service, one of the teachers at the school who’s part of the church choir quietly said to me, “mwen ka vini a kay ou oswe-a pou manje ek ni a bon tan” (I am coming at your home tonight to eat and have a good time). As the funeral service was just starting I didn’t properly respond but just chuckled a bit, all the while wondering if she was serious or just giving me a joke. Had my friend invited her over for dinner without telling me, or had he told her and she was just pulling my leg? Things got even more interesting after the service finished. The burial site of the deceased was about an hour’s drive away in Vieux Fort, and I originally intended on just attending the service itself and not going to the gravesite. As I left the church to check my friend about coming over for dinner, I saw that he was in the back of the choir bus that would soon be heading to the gravesite. As I approached the bus, which just so happened to be full of people that I know from the choir, my friend told me that he invited a mutual friend (not the one mentioned earlier) to come over as well. A few other people then said that they’d be coming as well. My best pal then asked whether I’d had a chance to get some drinks and stuff in town for later. Slightly confused, I responded that I had been in town earlier and had gotten a couple of things for dinner, but that I didn’t have much of anything substantial at my house to have a party perse. He then asked whether I would have a chance to go back into town and get some things for later. Now here’s when my mind started to send up little red flags and had just a tad bit of trouble understanding what was going on. I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as though I was nearly being thrown into the position of preparing everything for a birthday party which I essentially didn’t expect, plan for, or even in the least bit want to have. Hmmm….as a bus full of people, some of whom potentially could be invading my house in hopes of Ben’s Birthday Bash 2009, quietly sat, I searched, and searched, and searched some more for an appropriate response. Finally, I replied with, “well…I was actually going to head down to the gravesite since the whole choir is going.” Doesn’t it seem a bit strange that someone (who just so happens to be me) would go as far as to see a burial just to avoid planning a joyful celebration of his or her own life? Oh, the irony of it all. Upon returning to Fond St. Jacques, I explained to my friend that I didn’t really expect or plan to have a lot of people at my house, and that I didn’t feel like going to town last minute to rush and arrange things. Fortunately, he had already put 2 and 2 together, told me not to worry, and went to town himself to shop. More fortunately still, nobody else ended up coming over and I was allowed to have a quiet evening, largely I suspect because people were otherwise engaged at the funeral “after-party” of sorts.
In comparison to the United States, roles are sometimes reversed in St. Lucia when it comes to certain social occasions and celebrations. I mentioned a bit about it in my last blog post how this manifests itself at funerals, and as you can see, a similar trend carries through for birthdays. Except when you’re a child, if it’s your birthday and you’re celebrating it, you are expected to do so by throwing a party for everybody else. So, for example, instead of your friends taking you out for a birthday dinner, you would be expected to provide food and drink for all your friends. Fortunately I was able to get out of it. After all, it’s my party and I can not have it if I don’t want to.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Cockroaches, Dirty Towels, & Funerals
So, at one point during my time here in St. Lucia I had a little problem with mice in my house. As most of you know, I gracefully took care of it. Then they came back. Once again, I was able to remedy the problem (with a little more grace, if that’s even possible). No, they have not returned to discover if the 3rd time’s a charm with respect to permanently moving into my pretty, pink little abode. A new breed of infestation, however, has decided to storm my residence. Cockroaches. The troublesome little pests have invaded with full force, and given that there are dozens of easy access entrances into my house, it has been impossible to completely exterminate them. They also seem to have built up immunity against the insecticide spray, as I still occasionally find them in my utensil drawer, even after taking out all the drawers and spraying tons of poison into the dark abyss found behind them. And now little ones have appeared. Wonderful…
One day as I opened the cabinet under my kitchen sink to grab food for Mr. Bojangles, I couldn’t help but notice that there were approximately 15-20 roaches inside the nearly full bag of dog food. Grrrrreat. What to do? Do I force myself to believe it was only a figment of my imagination and move on? Do I throw the entire bag of perfectly good dog food out? Do I take the insecticide and spray the whole cockroach clan along with the dog food? While option 1 is convenient, I’m a realist. Those are definitely real roaches. Dog food is expensive, and I’m cheap, so that eliminates option 2. Wait a second, you must be thinking. Wouldn’t spraying insecticide all over a bag of dog food imply that one would then be obligated to dispose of the poisoned food? Well, evidently not in my twisted mind. I started to contemplate about the nature and purpose of cockroach insecticide spray. Would it really prove that much of a health hazard to Bo? After all, it’s designed to kill small crawling insects, and Bo is quite a bit larger than them (though it is arguable that, left to their own devices, some of the roaches would soon be of comparable size to Bo). So yep, you guessed it. I decided to put Mr. Bojangle’s life in jeopardy to save about 45EC dollars (18US). I sprayed the insecticide inside the bag as if I were a 16 year old girl trying to get her hair to stay just right for prom, sealed the bag, and listened to the sound of scurrying cockroach feet helplessly trying to escape their death chamber. After 20 minutes of marinating, it’s dinner time for Bo! Before you all go calling PETA on me, I did ultimately decide to dispose of the top layer of dog food directly affected by the spray before feeding Bo a helping of nutritious Trail Blazer dog food. And yes, in case you were wondering, Mr. Bojangles is still alive and well. In fact, he’s stronger than ever. You know what they say…
I’ve posted a few interesting conversations I’ve had with my host mom from training. Well, here’s another classic one that happened to be over the phone.
Ben: Hello, good afternoon MaPego. How are you?
MaPego: I’m good. How are you?
Ben: Good.
MaPego: Ok, that’s good. I haven’t seen you for a few days and I noticed that you’ve had a towel out on the line all week.
Ben: (laughing to myself) Oh yeah. I had accidentally left it wet in my bag overnight and didn’t want it to smell up my house, so I decided to leave it there until I do laundry again.
MaPego: Oh, ok. You know, I just wanted to check and see that everything was ok. As long as you’re alright.
Ben: Yeah, I’m great. Thanks for checking in. I’ll drop by and see you sometime soon. Take care.
MaPego: Ok, you too. Bye.
Strangely enough, I knew that my dirty towel that had been permanently chillin’ on the line would make it way into a conversation at one point or another. lol
Funerals in St. Lucia are very different than those back in the States. I’ve been to a few since I’ve been here, but recently my Fond St. Jacques supervisor’s mother-in-law passed away and my experience at the funeral really struck me. I would describe funerals here as more of a celebration of life than a mournful time of sadness. After the funeral I rode down to the cemetery with the church choir. Along the way, we joyously sang praise songs as if on the way to a youth revival or summer camp. Many songs were also sung in a lively fashion at the grave site. Later on that night at the reception, people generously drank, ate, danced, and sang. Somehow I wondered whether I was at a funeral or I had missed the memo and a wedding had actually occurred. While it was a very surreal experience, and made me feel somewhat strange given the funeral tradition I’m used to, it was interesting to look at funerals from a different perspective that emphasizes rejoicing in life rather than mourning death.
The other aspect of funerals that differs from those in the States is that the grieving family is expected to throw a big party in honor of the deceased. This seemed strange to me, as I would think that since the family is coping with the loss and arranging so many things for the funeral itself that others would take care of bringing food and drinks for the party, if there were to be a party at all. As I sat with the choir upstairs in my supervisor’s home, I was taken aback by the fact that the only daughter of the deceased was frantically running around and stressed out, making sure everyone had enough drinks, food, etc. In my mind I was thinking that she should be seated and resting herself after having just buried her mother. In talking with my supervisor, I learned that this expectation that the family takes on the responsibility of throwing a party for the deceased is tied to traditions of times past. Back when there wasn’t the convenience of a funeral home to take care of preserving the body, providing the coffin, etc. people from the community would come together at the home of the deceased the very night of the death and work through the night to help take care of everything that needed to be done (building the coffin, arranging flowers, etc.). The family would provide food and drinks for the workers to keep them going, and jokes and stories would also be told to keep people lively and awake. Even though funeral homes now take care of most all that needs to be done, and the family of the deceased doesn’t rely on the community as much to help with the arrangements, the tradition of the family providing food and drinks for others is still upheld and expected.
One day as I opened the cabinet under my kitchen sink to grab food for Mr. Bojangles, I couldn’t help but notice that there were approximately 15-20 roaches inside the nearly full bag of dog food. Grrrrreat. What to do? Do I force myself to believe it was only a figment of my imagination and move on? Do I throw the entire bag of perfectly good dog food out? Do I take the insecticide and spray the whole cockroach clan along with the dog food? While option 1 is convenient, I’m a realist. Those are definitely real roaches. Dog food is expensive, and I’m cheap, so that eliminates option 2. Wait a second, you must be thinking. Wouldn’t spraying insecticide all over a bag of dog food imply that one would then be obligated to dispose of the poisoned food? Well, evidently not in my twisted mind. I started to contemplate about the nature and purpose of cockroach insecticide spray. Would it really prove that much of a health hazard to Bo? After all, it’s designed to kill small crawling insects, and Bo is quite a bit larger than them (though it is arguable that, left to their own devices, some of the roaches would soon be of comparable size to Bo). So yep, you guessed it. I decided to put Mr. Bojangle’s life in jeopardy to save about 45EC dollars (18US). I sprayed the insecticide inside the bag as if I were a 16 year old girl trying to get her hair to stay just right for prom, sealed the bag, and listened to the sound of scurrying cockroach feet helplessly trying to escape their death chamber. After 20 minutes of marinating, it’s dinner time for Bo! Before you all go calling PETA on me, I did ultimately decide to dispose of the top layer of dog food directly affected by the spray before feeding Bo a helping of nutritious Trail Blazer dog food. And yes, in case you were wondering, Mr. Bojangles is still alive and well. In fact, he’s stronger than ever. You know what they say…
I’ve posted a few interesting conversations I’ve had with my host mom from training. Well, here’s another classic one that happened to be over the phone.
Ben: Hello, good afternoon MaPego. How are you?
MaPego: I’m good. How are you?
Ben: Good.
MaPego: Ok, that’s good. I haven’t seen you for a few days and I noticed that you’ve had a towel out on the line all week.
Ben: (laughing to myself) Oh yeah. I had accidentally left it wet in my bag overnight and didn’t want it to smell up my house, so I decided to leave it there until I do laundry again.
MaPego: Oh, ok. You know, I just wanted to check and see that everything was ok. As long as you’re alright.
Ben: Yeah, I’m great. Thanks for checking in. I’ll drop by and see you sometime soon. Take care.
MaPego: Ok, you too. Bye.
Strangely enough, I knew that my dirty towel that had been permanently chillin’ on the line would make it way into a conversation at one point or another. lol
Funerals in St. Lucia are very different than those back in the States. I’ve been to a few since I’ve been here, but recently my Fond St. Jacques supervisor’s mother-in-law passed away and my experience at the funeral really struck me. I would describe funerals here as more of a celebration of life than a mournful time of sadness. After the funeral I rode down to the cemetery with the church choir. Along the way, we joyously sang praise songs as if on the way to a youth revival or summer camp. Many songs were also sung in a lively fashion at the grave site. Later on that night at the reception, people generously drank, ate, danced, and sang. Somehow I wondered whether I was at a funeral or I had missed the memo and a wedding had actually occurred. While it was a very surreal experience, and made me feel somewhat strange given the funeral tradition I’m used to, it was interesting to look at funerals from a different perspective that emphasizes rejoicing in life rather than mourning death.
The other aspect of funerals that differs from those in the States is that the grieving family is expected to throw a big party in honor of the deceased. This seemed strange to me, as I would think that since the family is coping with the loss and arranging so many things for the funeral itself that others would take care of bringing food and drinks for the party, if there were to be a party at all. As I sat with the choir upstairs in my supervisor’s home, I was taken aback by the fact that the only daughter of the deceased was frantically running around and stressed out, making sure everyone had enough drinks, food, etc. In my mind I was thinking that she should be seated and resting herself after having just buried her mother. In talking with my supervisor, I learned that this expectation that the family takes on the responsibility of throwing a party for the deceased is tied to traditions of times past. Back when there wasn’t the convenience of a funeral home to take care of preserving the body, providing the coffin, etc. people from the community would come together at the home of the deceased the very night of the death and work through the night to help take care of everything that needed to be done (building the coffin, arranging flowers, etc.). The family would provide food and drinks for the workers to keep them going, and jokes and stories would also be told to keep people lively and awake. Even though funeral homes now take care of most all that needs to be done, and the family of the deceased doesn’t rely on the community as much to help with the arrangements, the tradition of the family providing food and drinks for others is still upheld and expected.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Christmas, NYC, etc.
So I’ve been pretty delinquent as of late about updating my blog. This is me attempting to get back on track though. I had an amazing time back in the States for Christmas. It was great to see friends and family, eat lots of delicious food, put on a sweater, see some snow, and be home for the holidays. Nothing beats being home for Christmas.
I had somehow forgotten how many different types of food there are in the States. Walking into the grocery store I was nearly shocked to see all the wonderful food. I was also pretty stoked that now at grocery stores in Topeka, Kansas, they have so many free samples everywhere (including half-sized sandwiches), that you can eat lunch for free! If you don’t have such luxury, all-inclusive grocery stores where you’re at, just another reason to head to the heartland.
Besides reveling in the joy of rediscovering the greatness of food options in the States, I didn’t really experience much “culture shock” per se during my trip, although I did have an interesting first few days in New York City seeing college friends. St. Lucia and NYC couldn’t be more different from one another, so I often found myself grinning or at times even laughing out loud when seeing how completely opposite the two places are. For example, dogs in St. Lucia are not exalted to such a favorable, posh position as in the US, so seeing New Yorkers walk around their bundled up Chihuahuas and pulling a stoop to scoop the poop was quite a comical site to behold. In addition to watching people obviously rush about, much unlike St. Lucia, it was also funny that my friends insisted on having a “plan” laid out for what we would be doing. What is this thing called a plan? And why would someone call when he or she is 10 minutes late? What’s 10 minutes? It felt a bit peculiar to in “Lucian” mode amidst such a different environment. I didn’t think that my time in St. Lucia had really changed my mentality concerning communication, planning, etc. but apparently at least a little something has rubbed off a bit on me.
I also really enjoyed a couple of unexpected encounters with Caribbean people while in NYC. Even though NYC obviously has the whole “melting pot” thing going for it and is just a tad bit more diverse than St. Lucia, or Kansas for that matter, somehow I didn’t really anticipate running into people from the Caribbean. Interestingly enough, however, one of my first encounters in NYC just so happened to be with a guy from Haiti. My shuttle driver from the airport to my friend’s apartment busted out some Creole after another driver (also Haitian) parked him in. I was stoked that I could actually understand the most of what he was saying (something like why are you stopping there…I can’t pass), and pleasantly surprised that learning Creole had come in handy someplace other than St. Lucia. I also heard another Haitian lady in the airport asking her grandmother “es ou vle chez ou” (do you want your wheelchair) on my way back to St. Lucia. I also caught myself inadvertently speaking Creole as well, as I instinctively told a guy on the street “no mesi” (no thanks) after he tried to offer me a flier. I’m so used to saying that when I’m in Castries (St. Lucia’s capital) or at the airport, where taxi drivers are on the prowl for tourists. While I didn’t expect to run into anyone from the Caribbean, let alone hear anyone speaking Creole, strangely enough I did expect to randomly see people I know on the streets of New York. In St. Lucia it’s almost inevitable that you’ll run into a least one person you know almost anywhere on the island, so the whole time in NYC I was walking around eagerly anticipating that I was going to bump into someone I knew that day. And then I’d realize oh right, NYC has just a few more people than St. Lucia. Shucks.
Now that I’m back I have just over 7 months left before my time with the Peace Corps is up. I’m sure that the time will fly by, given how quickly the past year and a half has gone. So, get in that island vacation you’ve always dreamed of before time runs out and the economy goes south! :)
I had somehow forgotten how many different types of food there are in the States. Walking into the grocery store I was nearly shocked to see all the wonderful food. I was also pretty stoked that now at grocery stores in Topeka, Kansas, they have so many free samples everywhere (including half-sized sandwiches), that you can eat lunch for free! If you don’t have such luxury, all-inclusive grocery stores where you’re at, just another reason to head to the heartland.
Besides reveling in the joy of rediscovering the greatness of food options in the States, I didn’t really experience much “culture shock” per se during my trip, although I did have an interesting first few days in New York City seeing college friends. St. Lucia and NYC couldn’t be more different from one another, so I often found myself grinning or at times even laughing out loud when seeing how completely opposite the two places are. For example, dogs in St. Lucia are not exalted to such a favorable, posh position as in the US, so seeing New Yorkers walk around their bundled up Chihuahuas and pulling a stoop to scoop the poop was quite a comical site to behold. In addition to watching people obviously rush about, much unlike St. Lucia, it was also funny that my friends insisted on having a “plan” laid out for what we would be doing. What is this thing called a plan? And why would someone call when he or she is 10 minutes late? What’s 10 minutes? It felt a bit peculiar to in “Lucian” mode amidst such a different environment. I didn’t think that my time in St. Lucia had really changed my mentality concerning communication, planning, etc. but apparently at least a little something has rubbed off a bit on me.
I also really enjoyed a couple of unexpected encounters with Caribbean people while in NYC. Even though NYC obviously has the whole “melting pot” thing going for it and is just a tad bit more diverse than St. Lucia, or Kansas for that matter, somehow I didn’t really anticipate running into people from the Caribbean. Interestingly enough, however, one of my first encounters in NYC just so happened to be with a guy from Haiti. My shuttle driver from the airport to my friend’s apartment busted out some Creole after another driver (also Haitian) parked him in. I was stoked that I could actually understand the most of what he was saying (something like why are you stopping there…I can’t pass), and pleasantly surprised that learning Creole had come in handy someplace other than St. Lucia. I also heard another Haitian lady in the airport asking her grandmother “es ou vle chez ou” (do you want your wheelchair) on my way back to St. Lucia. I also caught myself inadvertently speaking Creole as well, as I instinctively told a guy on the street “no mesi” (no thanks) after he tried to offer me a flier. I’m so used to saying that when I’m in Castries (St. Lucia’s capital) or at the airport, where taxi drivers are on the prowl for tourists. While I didn’t expect to run into anyone from the Caribbean, let alone hear anyone speaking Creole, strangely enough I did expect to randomly see people I know on the streets of New York. In St. Lucia it’s almost inevitable that you’ll run into a least one person you know almost anywhere on the island, so the whole time in NYC I was walking around eagerly anticipating that I was going to bump into someone I knew that day. And then I’d realize oh right, NYC has just a few more people than St. Lucia. Shucks.
Now that I’m back I have just over 7 months left before my time with the Peace Corps is up. I’m sure that the time will fly by, given how quickly the past year and a half has gone. So, get in that island vacation you’ve always dreamed of before time runs out and the economy goes south! :)
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Christmas Curtains, White Man Hair, and Grapefruits!
Host Mom: What are you doing with your curtains for Christmas?
Me: What am I doing with what for Christmas? (I thought I heard her say curtains, but since the question left me baffled, I couldn’t be sure)
Host Mom: Your curtains. Are you going to change them?
Me: Umm…I hadn’t really thought about it. Why? Is that something that’s typically done?
Host Mom: Uh huh. I have some for you. You should put them up in December.
Me: Oh…ok. Thanks. That’s nice of you. Remember I’m leaving December 11th to go home though, so can I put them up sometime soon?
Host Mom: No. You should wait until December.
Me: Oh…ok. I guess it would just be nice to be able to see them myself.
Host Mom: Nah. Put them up in December.
Me: Ok.
Host Mom: Yeah, you can put up the new ones after you take out the ones there now and wash them.
Me: Oh…yeah…perhaps I should do that (people wash curtains??)
Host Mom: Yeah, you should. It’s been over a year and they’re really dirty.
Me: (laughing) Alright. No problem.
Oh, my beloved host mother, how I come to love thee more and more with each passing day. She never ceases to crack me up...
Over the past year or so I have heard a lot of interesting comments regarding my hair, particularly from kids. Here are a few quotes from kids illustrating the different musings of “white man” hair.
- “Mommy look. He’s got hair on his arms and legs just like the dog.”
- “Your hair is nice. Real nice eh. I like to see that.”
- (after feeling the bristly touch of my goatee) “Mesye! You know what they doing with that? When you die they does come and take that and make steel wool with it.” (for those of you non-domestic types, steel wool is the shiny, metallic scrubbing device for dishes).
So eating grapefruits has become a full time job as of late. The tree outside me house is bearing grapefruits as if extinction was imminent and it was putting up its last fight to produce as many as possible. Even though I frequently climb the tree, eat about four a day, and give them to my neighbors, some are still dropping from the tree and spoiling. And, as you can imagine, watching perfectly good fruit go to waste takes quite a large toll on my emotional well being. If any of you reading this and have a cold, come down to St. Lucia and we’ll cure that in no time…
Even though I’ve been struggling with my job in the fruit department, volunteer work has been going reasonably well lately. After a bit of a hiatus, the composting project is getting back on track, thanks be to God. We’re still trying to secure all of the funding for the project, but are making some headway with different organizations. I’m pleased with the progress of a few my violin students. Some of them have improved quite a bit and can play Creole folk songs quite well now.
I’m getting excited to go home for Christmas. It will be nice to see friends and family as well as be able to celebrate Christmas as I am accustomed to. I’ve been playing my Christmas music and bought some cheap lights to get revved up for it.
Me: What am I doing with what for Christmas? (I thought I heard her say curtains, but since the question left me baffled, I couldn’t be sure)
Host Mom: Your curtains. Are you going to change them?
Me: Umm…I hadn’t really thought about it. Why? Is that something that’s typically done?
Host Mom: Uh huh. I have some for you. You should put them up in December.
Me: Oh…ok. Thanks. That’s nice of you. Remember I’m leaving December 11th to go home though, so can I put them up sometime soon?
Host Mom: No. You should wait until December.
Me: Oh…ok. I guess it would just be nice to be able to see them myself.
Host Mom: Nah. Put them up in December.
Me: Ok.
Host Mom: Yeah, you can put up the new ones after you take out the ones there now and wash them.
Me: Oh…yeah…perhaps I should do that (people wash curtains??)
Host Mom: Yeah, you should. It’s been over a year and they’re really dirty.
Me: (laughing) Alright. No problem.
Oh, my beloved host mother, how I come to love thee more and more with each passing day. She never ceases to crack me up...
Over the past year or so I have heard a lot of interesting comments regarding my hair, particularly from kids. Here are a few quotes from kids illustrating the different musings of “white man” hair.
- “Mommy look. He’s got hair on his arms and legs just like the dog.”
- “Your hair is nice. Real nice eh. I like to see that.”
- (after feeling the bristly touch of my goatee) “Mesye! You know what they doing with that? When you die they does come and take that and make steel wool with it.” (for those of you non-domestic types, steel wool is the shiny, metallic scrubbing device for dishes).
So eating grapefruits has become a full time job as of late. The tree outside me house is bearing grapefruits as if extinction was imminent and it was putting up its last fight to produce as many as possible. Even though I frequently climb the tree, eat about four a day, and give them to my neighbors, some are still dropping from the tree and spoiling. And, as you can imagine, watching perfectly good fruit go to waste takes quite a large toll on my emotional well being. If any of you reading this and have a cold, come down to St. Lucia and we’ll cure that in no time…
Even though I’ve been struggling with my job in the fruit department, volunteer work has been going reasonably well lately. After a bit of a hiatus, the composting project is getting back on track, thanks be to God. We’re still trying to secure all of the funding for the project, but are making some headway with different organizations. I’m pleased with the progress of a few my violin students. Some of them have improved quite a bit and can play Creole folk songs quite well now.
I’m getting excited to go home for Christmas. It will be nice to see friends and family as well as be able to celebrate Christmas as I am accustomed to. I’ve been playing my Christmas music and bought some cheap lights to get revved up for it.
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