Christmas, Dominoes, and a Recipe

So even though I’m in the Peace Corps, at times I feel as though I’m in the middle of a World War, as I hear loud bomb-like noises coming from around the area. Come to find out, as Christmas comes traditional bamboo bursting commences as a celebratory activity. To get right to it, a hole is made on one of the ends of a piece of bamboo, and when you add some kerosene and fire, you’ve got yourself a deafening noise. I came across some kids from the primary school doing it one day. I thought it was kind of entertaining to watch, until one of the kids proceeded to take the bottle of kerosene, put some of it in his mouth and spit it out at a flame to make a “dragon.” Seeing this at the circus is one thing, but watching an elementary school kid do it is another.

Before coming to St. Lucia I didn’t really think too much of dominoes. To me it was a very simplistic, tedious, and unexciting game. Boy was I profoundly mistaken. After joining a few games at a local convenience shop not far from my home, I quickly came to the realization that I know just as much about the game of dominoes as I do about how to properly dispose of pesky mice stuck to glue traps (if confused, refer to previous post). After getting completely schooled a few times, I learned that there’s a lot more thought that goes into the seemingly straightforward game than I thought. Plus, St. Lucian dominoes is quite a bit more entertaining than what I remembered playing at my grandparents’ home as a child. When feeling good about their next play (or just for kicks), players lift the domino high above their heads and smack it down hard on the table (reminiscent of watching WWF with my previous host mom). I’ve done it a few times but still need to work on channeling my inner rage. There’s also a very particular way of shuffling the dominoes that I’ve yet to master. How difficult can it be to mix up a few dominoes, you ask? Well, apparently it takes more skill then I’ve got because I definitely got laughed at when trying to do it. When it comes to shuffling cards though, St. Lucians have no idea how to do it the way we do it in the States (the bridge, etc.). Instead they “beat” them by rapidly taking some on the bottom and smacking them on top.

This past week has been really encouraging, especially with respect to my social and spiritual life here in Fond St. Jacques. People here are very friendly, but for awhile now I’ve felt like I have a ton of “friendly acquaintances” rather than true “friends.” I have also felt somewhat discouraged in terms of spiritual fellowship. Going to the Catholic Church has been alright, but I’m just more accustomed to a different style of service. The Catholic Youth Group is also really struggling right now to get people to show up to meetings. A group of around 15 people attended a nation-wide Youth Rally, but since then only 3 people (including myself) have shown up for the meetings. It seems that people are more interested in the social aspect of the group (i.e. meeting people from other parts of the island at large events) and not so much wider, consistent involvement.
So back to what has been encouraging. I’ve made good friends with one of the teachers at the school. We’ve started exercising (walking/jogging) in the morning starting around 5:30 or 6. Yeah, I’m also shocked that I’m able to wake up that early, but it’s such a great way to start the day. We’ve also been having bible studies periodically throughout the week. It’s such an answer to prayer because not only has God blessed me with a friend, but also one that is like-minded. We’re hoping to eventually get some of the other guys in the area involved as well.

I’m also really excited about an opportunity that has come up to teach even more students the violin, as well as start teaching some kids tennis lessons. After talking with the director of the school of music, I found out about a violin group at a school in a community about 30 minutes south of where I live. They currently lack an instructor, but have 10 violins and a couple handful of students with varying degrees of experience. Starting next term I’ll be going down to give them lessons on Fridays, and in a different community close by I’ll teach some tennis lessons to a different group of students. Once again, God has been so great in blessing me with so many opportunities to utilize what I truly enjoy doing for projects.

So one day I come home from the school to grab some lunch before heading into town. I search the cupboards and refrigerator only to realize that I’ve got squat to work with. Just then I remembered that my host mother had passed by in her car earlier that day and had said a few things I hadn’t entirely picked up. I thought I would go down and say a quick hello to make sure I hadn’t missed anything important. Perhaps I would think of something brilliant to cook for lunch with ketchup, flour, and peanut butter on my trip over…you never know. As I reach her house I notice that she’s just finishing her lunch specialty…chicken and chips (fries) from the Chinese restaurant in town (sidenote: she always gets the chicken and chips, and once looked at me strangely when I nearly ordered actual Chinese food…shame on me!). I ask her what she had said driving past in the van that morning and she responds, “oh nothing, just saying hi.” She then tells me to take the remaining scraps of her food back to Bojangles (the dog) as a treat. I agree, say thanks, and proceed back to home with the white Styrofoam take out container in my hand. As I walk back home, I think to myself, should I really allow my dog to have these greasy fries? After all, he’s just a puppy…we wouldn’t want to screw up his digestive system. True, dogs eat anything, but should they be eating everything? As I’m sure you’ve already figured out, the story ends with me gluttonously stealing the scraps of limp fries from my dog and voraciously gobbling them up, a look of devilish glee upon my face. This was done, of course, only after making sure the window looking out to my host mom’s house was shut. 

So I recently experienced my first Christmas away from my family and in a foreign country. It was spent entirely different than at home in Kansas, and while I did enjoy some aspects of it, other parts left me feeling out of place and experiencing significant homesickness for the first time since I have been here. Early on Christmas Eve I went to accompany the church choir with my violin at Ladera, a fancy hotel located in between the Pitons (two mountains). I enjoyed it, tough I must admit I felt a bit strange playing reggae carols and seeing so many tourists. Afterwards, I went back home with a friend and we rested before going to Jouvert (day break). Every year on Christmas Eve people celebrate by having an enormous party filled with drinking and dancing all through the night until dawn. Even though I was a bit hesitant, I figured I should attend to fully experience a St. Lucian Christmas. My friend and I got there around 12:30am and danced a bit. My personality isn’t one that typically enjoys massive groups of people, extremely provocative dancing, and drinking, but I was trying to keep an open mind and was having an ok time. As the night went on, however, I got bothered by the party environment and started thinking about how I had typically spent Christmas Eves of past. In the midst of thinking about family, friends, etc., my mind began to contemplate whether this massive party was how Jesus would have wanted his birth to be celebrated. I began to think to myself of course not, and honestly felt a bit disgusted by some of the behavior I was seeing. At the same time I felt bad because I felt as though I was in part judging the cultural tradition, which I didn’t think was the right thing to do. Two words…culture shock.
Christmas day was much more enjoyable though. After getting two hours of sleep, I went to church and then went with my friend Vincent from house to house for the remainder of the afternoon. Going to house to house is another aspect of the St. Lucian Christmas tradition, where on Christmas people go and visit friends, neighbors, and family and are welcomed in, offered food (lot of pork…I don’t think I’ve seen so many pigs strung up), drinks, etc. This tradition is dying out, but Vincent and I decided we would try and revive it.

So I’m pleased to note that since my horrific mouse experience I have caught another mouse on my recycled glue trap. It wasn’t all in vain…

Cooking with Ben! This recipe for Creole bread is to die for!

3 cups flour
1.5 cups whole wheat flour
1 tbsp. yeast
¾ cup of butter
½ cup brown sugar
1.25 cups of cold water

Mix the flour, sugar, and yeast together. Cut in the butter. Add the water gradually and knead until dough is soft and round. Let rise for 1 hour. Bake at 375 degrees for appx. 40 minutes.