Mango Conspiracies, Scuba, & Million Dollar Kansan

Mango season is back! I can’t convey in words how exciting this is. Let’s just say that as far as fruit is concerned, mangoes are the blueberry of St. Lucia. I can’t eat enough of them and have thoroughly enjoyed trying a few of the 100+ varieties found on the island. I do have my mango suspicions though. I think that there’s a big conspiracy behind the mango’s stringy fibrousness. I’m of the belief that back in the day a group of clever dentists decided to genetically modify mangoes to make them stringier, forcing people not so hygienically inclined to floss their teeth. Major props to them though…I’ve gone from once a week to at least 4 times a day now.

Along with football (soccer), cricket is one of the most popular sports on St. Lucia. After nearly 10 months down here, I think I have finally grasped most of the rules and understand generally how the game works. A few weeks ago the West Indies team, of which there is only one St. Lucian player, played the team from Sri Lanka. Because it was the only big match of the year played on St. Lucia, I went along to see what all the fuss was about. The game itself was decently entertaining, but what made the day was observing St. Lucian cheering antics and experiencing the atmosphere. Let’s just say that the combination of intense cricket passion and thirst for certain beverages that some St. Lucians have made it an interesting environment.

Even though I’m serving as a volunteer, I am living on a tropical island, and it would be downright silly of me not to take advantage of certain opportunities associated with such an environment. Consequently, out of nothing more than mere obligation, I’ve started taking scuba lessons with some fellow volunteers and will hopefully soon be certified. Alright, so coming from a slightly land-locked part of the US it actually might be something that I’ve kind of wanted to do for most all of my life, but that’s beside the point. Fortunately, since our group technically resides in St. Lucia, we were able to go through the certification classes for the local price instead of the tourist price, which saved us a considerable amount of money. I’ve done quite a bit of training in the pool, have gone on a 30 ft. dive in the ocean, and now just have a couple more dives left until I’ll officially be certified.

So to make myself feel a bit less guilty and to counter the impression you most likely now have that I’m bumming around on a beach for the better part of two years, I’ll give you a little update with how volunteer work has been going lately. I mentioned a few posts ago that I had started reading stories to a group of kids before school. Even though that was cool, we’ve moved it to another level and I’m excited that the kids have responded positively to it. Now it has taken the form of a “reading buddy” program, where older kids are paired with younger ones and help them work on their reading. I’m encouraged because the kids really seem to be enjoying it, and quite a few students in the middle grades have also joined in since it’s begun. Yay reading. I pray that the kids’ stay interested and keep it up.

The composting project with the Farmers’ Cooperative continues to make good progress. We’re still putting together the nuts and bolts of the proposal (boo hiss messy budgets) and are having meetings with some of the key stakeholders on St. Lucia (e.g., Solid Waste Management, Ministry of Agriculture) to get involvement at the national level that is needed for the project to really succeed.

After my jogging routine somewhat staggered to a near halt, I’m glad to have started back up more consistently in the early morning with a couple guys. It’s nice because now that there are three of us there’s an entire new level of accountability; if one person can’t do it for whatever reason, the other person is still hopefully there to motivate you to successfully roll out of bed at 5am. Both of the guys are former boxers, and one of them is even a former St. Lucian boxing champion who’s trying to get back into good boxing shape. Since I’ve thrown my fair share of punches back on the farm in KS, and have the natural disposition of a fighter, I’m seriously considering prematurely leaving the Peace Corps and training to become St. Lucia’s first “nonm blan” to capture the heavyweight crown. 

In my last post I briefly wrote about an interesting experience I had coming back home on a bus involving gas and the Creole language. Since then, I’ve written a more comprehensive version of the story that tells the story from its true start. I thought I would add it on the end here. Exercise caution though. You might end up learning more Creole than you ever wanted to know.

The Human Body: An Advanced Course in Patois

While serving as a PCV for the past several months on St. Lucia, I have really enjoyed the opportunity to have a crack at learning another language, and have been taking Patios lessons alongside a fellow PCV. Although they have sadly come to an end, one of the most satisfying and amusing parts of my Patios lessons was learning seemingly inapplicable vocabulary that somehow extraordinarily enough found, and continues to find, its way into everyday conversations.
One day, when my fellow PCV was disappointingly absent attending a meeting, leaving me for a one-on-one showdown with her 50 some year old host mother, the topic at hand was parts of the body. After learning how to say everything from under belly to the names of individual toes, which seemed like more than enough information to reasonably cover, I closed my notebook and started getting prepared to leave. My Patois teacher, probably the sweetest, kindest, most religiously devout person on St. Lucia, looked at me like I was crazy and said “eh eh, we’re not finished yet.” What followed was an equally comprehensive tutorial on all of the other parts of the body that we had somehow earlier neglected to delve into. After struggling to maintain my composure, I finally erupted into laughter when she proceeded to ask me, in all seriousness I might add, if I knew how to say “anus” in Patois. Upon observing my reaction, she asked me what was so funny, and went on to say that she really doesn’t understand why people (including her Kindergarteners) think that such things are laughing matters. Smiling, I told her I understood that this aspect of the lesson should be approached with utmost seriousness, but that I was just very curious as to when the next occasion would present itself for me to whip out “twou bonda” in a conversation.
Little did I know that the opportunity would arise a number of times, including a few short weeks later on a bus coming back from a Catholic youth crusade. On the return trip some real cheeky fellow kept passing the most terribly smelling gas. After the first couple of offences everybody kept silent, attempting to imagine that nothing was happening, but soon all the windows were wide open and everyone was vexed and accusing someone else of being responsible. After paying close attention to the Patois that was being spoken, I picked up enough to realize that they were speculating as to whether or not I, the “nonm blan,” was the culprit. I defiantly responded, "Awa! Ou fou!" (no! you're crazy!), and then told them in English that I wasn't capable of producing such a rancid smell. A little while later, after my sense of smell was once again bombarded with a wave of vaporized rotten dasheen and green figs, I turned to my neighbor and, thinking fondly of Patois lessons of past, sternly told him, "Tjenbe twou bonda ou!" (Hold your anus!). Needless to say, it got quite a reaction.
So thanks to my language instructor for refusing to let me compromise my knowledge of the human body in Patois, and for showing me that the “twou bonda” certainly is not a laughing matter…it’s a serious ting.