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.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
Donnie's Visit & Terrible Gas (Not related!)
As I mentioned in my previous post, Donnie Stuart, a friend of mine from Middlebury, paid me a visit for part of his spring break a couple of weeks ago. It was great to catch up, here about college friends, as well as attempt to show him some most of the hot spots in St. Lucia during his short trip. One of the highlights was climbing Petit Piton, one of the tallest mountains in St. Lucia. What started as a relatively moderate hike turned quite intense part way up, as we were forced to do a bit of rockclimbing using ropes. The scattered rain didn't really make the climb much easier either. The view from the top made it well worth it, however, as we could see not only all of Soufriere but also Gros Piton (another nearby mountain) and all the way down to the Southern tip of the island. Other highlights included a couple of trips to the beach, a rainforest walk to a nearby waterfall, a mud bath at the sulphur springs/volcano (all my wrinkles are gone), dominoes, and watching a bit of March Madness (yay Kansas!).
I went with the Catholic Youth Group to an event in another community last weekend. It was aimed at trying to revive youth involvement in the Church, which is lacking in many parishes. It was a good event, but we had quite an interesting trip back to Fond St. Jacques afterwards. On the trip back someone kept passing the most terribly smelling gas on the bus. At first nobody said anything, but after awhile all the windows were open and everyone was accusing someone else of being responsible. After paying close attention to the Patois (Creole) that was being spoken, I picked up enough to realize that they were speculating as to whether or not I was the culprit. I responded, "Awa! Ou fou!" (no! you're crazy!), and then told them in English that I wasn't capable of producing such rancid smells. A little while later, after my sense of smell was bombarded once again with a wave of something not so sweet, I turned to my neighbor and sternly told him to "Chebe tou bonda ou!" (Hold your butt!) People really got a kick out of that. I guess learning all of the parts of the body in my Patois lessons came in handy after all...
I went with the Catholic Youth Group to an event in another community last weekend. It was aimed at trying to revive youth involvement in the Church, which is lacking in many parishes. It was a good event, but we had quite an interesting trip back to Fond St. Jacques afterwards. On the trip back someone kept passing the most terribly smelling gas on the bus. At first nobody said anything, but after awhile all the windows were open and everyone was accusing someone else of being responsible. After paying close attention to the Patois (Creole) that was being spoken, I picked up enough to realize that they were speculating as to whether or not I was the culprit. I responded, "Awa! Ou fou!" (no! you're crazy!), and then told them in English that I wasn't capable of producing such rancid smells. A little while later, after my sense of smell was bombarded once again with a wave of something not so sweet, I turned to my neighbor and sternly told him to "Chebe tou bonda ou!" (Hold your butt!) People really got a kick out of that. I guess learning all of the parts of the body in my Patois lessons came in handy after all...
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Hitchhiking, Easter, and Old People Races!
Few things on this great earth beat the cool, refreshing, and somewhat exhilarating feeling of the open air blowing in your face on a hot day while riding in the back of a truck. Since coming to St. Lucia, one aspect of the culture that I have come to wholeheartedly embrace is the use of hitchhiking as a means to get around. Despite the fact that the public transportation system actually does run fairly efficiently, there are certain times (i.e. after 7pm; Sundays) when buses are difficult to find, if available at all. Hitchhiking is also common no matter what the time because in a relatively small community (and island) where people know one another, it only makes sense that someone with a vehicle would give another person a lift. One day after flagging down a truck and hopping in the back, I gradually noticed a pungent odor. I started wondering what the source of the smell was, sheepishly checked myself to make sure I hadn’t suddenly gotten a bad case of BO, and then glanced around and realized that I wasn’t the only one catching a lift. I was joined by a medium sized pig lying in a dasheen sack on the other side of the truck bed, unnoticeable except for his snout sticking out of the end of the bag. Perhaps he was hitching to the slaughter?
In the world of volunteer work, I’m excited that the composting project with the Farmers’ Cooperative has started promisingly. After submitting a brief project concept form describing our general idea, we received word from the funding organization that they are really interested in the project and, granted that our project includes certain components, will fund a substantial amount of it. I’ve enjoyed working with the Cooperative because so far they really seem to have an invested interest in seeing the project come to fruition and are therefore dedicated to actually committing time to make sure it happens. Plus, the principal contact person from the Cooperative that I’ve been working closely with usually ends every phone conversation by saying “respect, positive, one love, Irie" (a common word people yell in passing at one another meaning “safe”). How cool is that? ☺
I’ve also had the opportunity to start teaching tennis to a group of kids down on the Southern part of the island once every couple of weeks. The previous coach apparently is unable to do it now, so another Peace Corps volunteer and I are switching off every other Saturday in the meantime. It’s been nice to be able to pick up my racquet again.
Because Fond St. Jacques doesn’t have a market or store of any significant size, oftentimes businesses from Soufriere will bring bread or fish up. The fish truck usually comes at nights and gets people’s attention by blowing a conch shell as it passes through. I personally think that it’s pretty sweet, but I’m not quite as big a fan of the bread van that usually slowly creeps by in the morning around 5:30 honking loudly for everyone to hear. I’ve gotten used to the roosters crowing ridiculously early, but as of yet I’ve been unable to tune out the noisy bread guy. "Pay la!" (keep quiet!)
My Easter experience in St. Lucia was quite different than previous years in the States. As with Christmas, some people celebrate by attending an all night party leading into Easter Sunday. After my Christmas experience I had enough foresight this time around to realize that wasn’t exactly my cup of tea and forego the party. On Easter Sunday the church had a Bazaar in the afternoon, which is basically a fair of sorts aimed at raising money for the church. I helped out at the “lucky dip” game, in which participants pay 2 dollars to reach in a bag and choose a number which has a corresponding prize. Of course some of the prizes were more desirable than others. I found it quite funny when grown men would come over with high hopes of winning a bottle of rum, only to end up with a not so coveted blue polka dotted women’s bra. Soon after yelling “awa!” (no!) and launching the bra out of sight, they would come crawling back to play once again, only to face the same undesirable fate. And in case you were wondering, no, the third time wasn’t a charm.
This past Monday I volunteered at the Senior games, which is essentially a track and field meet for older persons. It ran like any typical track meet, except they included a few additional activities like lime and spoon, sack races, three legged races, etc. One of the highlights was when one of the three legged race teams that had seemingly mastered the art collapsed about 2 feet from the finish line, only to watch most all of the teams pass them by. One of the relays was pretty comical as well, because after his teammates had gained an impressive lead over all the other teams, the anchor man on one team decided to slowly jog along, coaxing the other teams to try and catch up. After hopping on one leg about 10 meters from the finish line, the guy accidentally dropped the baton and ended up losing the race. I couldn't have been more thrilled...serves the little putz right.
Well, that’s all I’ve got time for now because I’m heading off to the airport to pick up good ole Donnie Stuart, a friend from Middlebury College who’s coming to visit for part of spring break. "Mwen pa sa espewe!" (I can’t wait!)
In the world of volunteer work, I’m excited that the composting project with the Farmers’ Cooperative has started promisingly. After submitting a brief project concept form describing our general idea, we received word from the funding organization that they are really interested in the project and, granted that our project includes certain components, will fund a substantial amount of it. I’ve enjoyed working with the Cooperative because so far they really seem to have an invested interest in seeing the project come to fruition and are therefore dedicated to actually committing time to make sure it happens. Plus, the principal contact person from the Cooperative that I’ve been working closely with usually ends every phone conversation by saying “respect, positive, one love, Irie" (a common word people yell in passing at one another meaning “safe”). How cool is that? ☺
I’ve also had the opportunity to start teaching tennis to a group of kids down on the Southern part of the island once every couple of weeks. The previous coach apparently is unable to do it now, so another Peace Corps volunteer and I are switching off every other Saturday in the meantime. It’s been nice to be able to pick up my racquet again.
Because Fond St. Jacques doesn’t have a market or store of any significant size, oftentimes businesses from Soufriere will bring bread or fish up. The fish truck usually comes at nights and gets people’s attention by blowing a conch shell as it passes through. I personally think that it’s pretty sweet, but I’m not quite as big a fan of the bread van that usually slowly creeps by in the morning around 5:30 honking loudly for everyone to hear. I’ve gotten used to the roosters crowing ridiculously early, but as of yet I’ve been unable to tune out the noisy bread guy. "Pay la!" (keep quiet!)
My Easter experience in St. Lucia was quite different than previous years in the States. As with Christmas, some people celebrate by attending an all night party leading into Easter Sunday. After my Christmas experience I had enough foresight this time around to realize that wasn’t exactly my cup of tea and forego the party. On Easter Sunday the church had a Bazaar in the afternoon, which is basically a fair of sorts aimed at raising money for the church. I helped out at the “lucky dip” game, in which participants pay 2 dollars to reach in a bag and choose a number which has a corresponding prize. Of course some of the prizes were more desirable than others. I found it quite funny when grown men would come over with high hopes of winning a bottle of rum, only to end up with a not so coveted blue polka dotted women’s bra. Soon after yelling “awa!” (no!) and launching the bra out of sight, they would come crawling back to play once again, only to face the same undesirable fate. And in case you were wondering, no, the third time wasn’t a charm.
This past Monday I volunteered at the Senior games, which is essentially a track and field meet for older persons. It ran like any typical track meet, except they included a few additional activities like lime and spoon, sack races, three legged races, etc. One of the highlights was when one of the three legged race teams that had seemingly mastered the art collapsed about 2 feet from the finish line, only to watch most all of the teams pass them by. One of the relays was pretty comical as well, because after his teammates had gained an impressive lead over all the other teams, the anchor man on one team decided to slowly jog along, coaxing the other teams to try and catch up. After hopping on one leg about 10 meters from the finish line, the guy accidentally dropped the baton and ended up losing the race. I couldn't have been more thrilled...serves the little putz right.
Well, that’s all I’ve got time for now because I’m heading off to the airport to pick up good ole Donnie Stuart, a friend from Middlebury College who’s coming to visit for part of spring break. "Mwen pa sa espewe!" (I can’t wait!)
Monday, March 3, 2008
Independence Fun/Chaos & Parents' Visit
When I first got to St. Lucia and was not yet aware that I would be staying here for the entirety of my service, I purchased a hat from a tourist shop that has the words “live slow” written on the front of it. Coming from fast paced America (and college life nonetheless) where people oftentimes can’t find time to remember to breathe, I couldn’t have been more excited about embracing a culture that values relaxing and doesn’t pay so much attention to time. Little did I know how difficult aspects of adapting to this mindset would be, especially given that successfully completing the amount of work that I’ve been involved with this past month isn’t easily done with a laid back attitude.
My good friend Vincent and I planned a Health and Fitness walk for February 17th as well as traditional St. Lucian activities for Independence Day (22nd). We tried to get more young guys in the Youth and Sports organization involved in the planning of the activities, but unfortunately it ended up being the two of us arranging everything. It was no small task as we had to make the budget, solicit funds from businesses, order and print t-shirts, sign people up, advertise, buy prizes, etc. Needless to say, we needed to be on top of our game to get everything accomplished. Through much of it I found myself feeling that it was essential to get some of the tasks done ahead of time (as I’m used to in the States), but because of the cultural norms here related to time, as well as simple lack of manpower, certain tasks got pushed back until last minute. For the health and fitness walk we ended up peeling grapefruits until 1 in the morning, waking up at 4 to make juice and slice carrots, and we finally had everything ready by 6:15 for the start at 6:30. On Independence Day we had to wake up just before 5am to retrieve a cut and stripped tree from the rainforest (which took about 6 hours due to last minute falling through of transport), grease and erect the pole, collect a pig from town to grease, and so on.
Trying to stay relaxed and not worry about the clock ticking during all the last minute arranging was beyond my capabilities. It was comparable to starting a research paper on the history of the world the morning it’s due and trying to maintain one’s composure. Not happening for this guy. Anyway, I’ve since modified the slogan on the hat from “live slow” to “live slow but keep moving.” In the end, thanks to nothing but the miraculous grace of God everything ended up coming together for both activities. People really enjoyed the fitness walk and fortunately we’ve been able to continue it early every Sunday morning to encourage exercise and healthy living in the community, which is essential given that it has been speculated that the Caribbean has the highest prevalence of diabetes in the world.
So you might be wondering what the heck we were doing with a pole, a pig, and a bunch of oil and grease for Independence Day. Two of the most traditional Independence Day activities in St. Lucia are “greasy pole” and “greasy pig.” For greasy pole, a stripped tree entirely covered in oil and grease is erected with a bottle tied at the top. The first person who can successful reach the top and untie the bottle (no ladder, etc.) gets $100 and a bottle of rum (a big motivator). Needless to say, it’s pretty funny to watch and in the end people are forced to form a pyramid to reach the top. Greasy pig involves covering a pig with oil and grease, slapping it on the butt, and allowing the first person to successfully catch the slippery pig to keep it. Between helping oil and grease the pig and the pole, I ended up looking pretty dirty. People started saying, “hey, you’ve turned black today!” Little did they know how many levels that comment was operating on. Not only had my skin turned a different shade, but having been essentially initiated into the last minute chaos that characterizes the planning of many projects here, I couldn’t help but feel Lucian in a completely different respect. Other activities we had were sack races, three legged races, a fitness contest, a water balloon toss, and tug of war.
I really enjoyed having my parents come to pay me a visit, as it provided them with the opportunity to see firsthand what I’ve been describing in emails, on the phone, etc. as well as the chance to meet friends and newfound family. Unless they were lying to me, I can say that they thoroughly enjoyed their trip. Although they of course liked the beach, bathing in sulfur water from the volcano, seeing the rainforest/waterfalls, and zip-lining, etc. I think what they really took away from the trip was a much better understanding of St. Lucian culture through meeting my friends, experiencing Independence Day, coming to the school, and living at my house instead of in an isolated hotel removed from local community life. It was great to enjoy spending a relaxed time with them after a hectic month. We had some good conversations that helped me further reflect on my experience so far as well as express some things that blog entries and emails can’t quite convey. One of the most classic moments from the trip came after I introduced my parents to a local shop owner. After a couple minutes, my mom asked me, “are you able to understand what they’re saying in Creole?” I smile and respond, “that’s English mom.”
My good friend Vincent and I planned a Health and Fitness walk for February 17th as well as traditional St. Lucian activities for Independence Day (22nd). We tried to get more young guys in the Youth and Sports organization involved in the planning of the activities, but unfortunately it ended up being the two of us arranging everything. It was no small task as we had to make the budget, solicit funds from businesses, order and print t-shirts, sign people up, advertise, buy prizes, etc. Needless to say, we needed to be on top of our game to get everything accomplished. Through much of it I found myself feeling that it was essential to get some of the tasks done ahead of time (as I’m used to in the States), but because of the cultural norms here related to time, as well as simple lack of manpower, certain tasks got pushed back until last minute. For the health and fitness walk we ended up peeling grapefruits until 1 in the morning, waking up at 4 to make juice and slice carrots, and we finally had everything ready by 6:15 for the start at 6:30. On Independence Day we had to wake up just before 5am to retrieve a cut and stripped tree from the rainforest (which took about 6 hours due to last minute falling through of transport), grease and erect the pole, collect a pig from town to grease, and so on.
Trying to stay relaxed and not worry about the clock ticking during all the last minute arranging was beyond my capabilities. It was comparable to starting a research paper on the history of the world the morning it’s due and trying to maintain one’s composure. Not happening for this guy. Anyway, I’ve since modified the slogan on the hat from “live slow” to “live slow but keep moving.” In the end, thanks to nothing but the miraculous grace of God everything ended up coming together for both activities. People really enjoyed the fitness walk and fortunately we’ve been able to continue it early every Sunday morning to encourage exercise and healthy living in the community, which is essential given that it has been speculated that the Caribbean has the highest prevalence of diabetes in the world.
So you might be wondering what the heck we were doing with a pole, a pig, and a bunch of oil and grease for Independence Day. Two of the most traditional Independence Day activities in St. Lucia are “greasy pole” and “greasy pig.” For greasy pole, a stripped tree entirely covered in oil and grease is erected with a bottle tied at the top. The first person who can successful reach the top and untie the bottle (no ladder, etc.) gets $100 and a bottle of rum (a big motivator). Needless to say, it’s pretty funny to watch and in the end people are forced to form a pyramid to reach the top. Greasy pig involves covering a pig with oil and grease, slapping it on the butt, and allowing the first person to successfully catch the slippery pig to keep it. Between helping oil and grease the pig and the pole, I ended up looking pretty dirty. People started saying, “hey, you’ve turned black today!” Little did they know how many levels that comment was operating on. Not only had my skin turned a different shade, but having been essentially initiated into the last minute chaos that characterizes the planning of many projects here, I couldn’t help but feel Lucian in a completely different respect. Other activities we had were sack races, three legged races, a fitness contest, a water balloon toss, and tug of war.
I really enjoyed having my parents come to pay me a visit, as it provided them with the opportunity to see firsthand what I’ve been describing in emails, on the phone, etc. as well as the chance to meet friends and newfound family. Unless they were lying to me, I can say that they thoroughly enjoyed their trip. Although they of course liked the beach, bathing in sulfur water from the volcano, seeing the rainforest/waterfalls, and zip-lining, etc. I think what they really took away from the trip was a much better understanding of St. Lucian culture through meeting my friends, experiencing Independence Day, coming to the school, and living at my house instead of in an isolated hotel removed from local community life. It was great to enjoy spending a relaxed time with them after a hectic month. We had some good conversations that helped me further reflect on my experience so far as well as express some things that blog entries and emails can’t quite convey. One of the most classic moments from the trip came after I introduced my parents to a local shop owner. After a couple minutes, my mom asked me, “are you able to understand what they’re saying in Creole?” I smile and respond, “that’s English mom.”
Monday, January 28, 2008
"You're not fat!" & My Life as a Father
So a few days ago I was taking a walk with my Bojangles and decided to visit my host mother in her garden. After saying hello, she tells me that she has heard that I’m pretty good at climbing trees. “Mwen enmen moute pye bwa” (I love climbing trees) I respond, “especially the grapefruit tree in front of my house”. She then asks if I can climb a different nearby grapefruit tree for her and pick some. After picking a bunch she gives me one to eat. While I’m peeling it I hear her say “I’m sorry.” I confusedly respond, “for what?” I hear her reply, “I fat.” “What,” I ask, perplexed as to why my 69 year old host mom who works in the garden nearly everyday would be concerned about, and more puzzling, apologizing for her weight. “I fat” I hear her say again. “No you’re not,” I assure her. “You look good.” “No, no, I fart…I pass gas out the back,” she says, finally bringing the added clarity (and awkwardness) to the conversation. “Oh…ok,” I say chuckling. Yet another classic encounter with MaPego
After having done my laundry by hand for awhile now it’s not nearly as much of a pain as it used to be, and I think my clothes smell decently after washing them (I don’t know if that’s to say they’re really clean though). It made my day though when my elderly neighbor Sil saw my white laundry hanging up and asked me who did it. After jokingly telling her white guys can scrub a bit too, she laughed and told me she was impressed by how white they were and didn’t believe a man could wash so well. Her comment was flattering, but I’m sure she wouldn’t have been so complimentary had she taken a closer look…
So I’m excited to be starting my very own garden. Despite being from Kansas, I sadly know very little about gardening. Fortunately, however, a farmer from the area who I met on a walk allowed me to tag along with him for a day and learn a bit/help him out over the Christmas break, and told me that if I purchased some seeds from the Farmers’ Cooperative he would help me plant some things (“do a little ting” as they say they it) on his land. I’ve since planted some cucumbers and hope to also have a try at some watermelon, carrots, and okra.
Fatherhood has generally been treating me well, although it does have its trying times. Don’t worry…I’m referring to the dog, not a baby Bojangles (although I did have an old guy seriously tell me that I should “leave at least 2 mixed babies down here when I go” ) I’ve been working to break him of his aggressive possession of food (aggravated by ornery school children who try and simultaneously feed and play with him when I’m gone), as well as rid him of his tic infestation (I picked 10+ off of him at one time…have since gotten a tic/flea collar). He’s a sweet dog though and people in the community always ask me without fail where he is if I pass by without him.
So between half-washing my clothes and having awkward conversations with my host mom, what have I been doing, you might ask? The New Year has brought some new projects to work on that I hope will be successful. I’ve started a reading club at the primary school. I meet with the kids for about a half hour before school, read to them (currently “The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe”), and ask them questions about what’s going on in the story. I’m encouraged by how engaged and attentive the children are. During the normal school hours trying to get even a small group of students to follow along as each student reads can oftentimes be like pulling teeth, but when it’s in the context of being read to, they usually quickly congregate. I’m hoping that the reading club will help them realize that reading can be fun and enjoyable. Last week was also the first week that I started teaching the 3rd graders how to play the recorder. It was quite the challenge having 30 of them all together at once, each with an object that has the potential of making noise at their disposal. The lesson went alright, but it was challenging to keep them quiet and get around to each one to see whether they understood what was being taught.
I’ve also started working with the Farmers’ Cooperative to put together a proposal for available grant money through the Global Environment Facility (GEF), a United Nations program that gives out grants to CBOs and NGOs that address global environmental problems at the local level. We’re hoping to build off an organic farming GEF project that is already underway by doing something with composting (using a shredder). We also might look into the possibility of using coconut husks as a means to produce seedlings. It’s still in the early stages, so who knows where it might go. I feel a bit out of my element with the agricultural side of things, but I’m hoping that I’ll be able to assist with the proposal writing and coordinating of the project details.
I’m continuing giving the violin lessons and have started with more students in another community. I now have 17 students and am encouraged by the progress that some of them are making. The chance to help with the tennis program I mentioned previously unfortunately ended up falling through, but I’ve been playing on Fridays with a junior national girl’s champ after violin lessons. She’s a solid player and it’s been great to have the opportunity to pick up my racquet again.
I’m excited that my parents are coming in late February to visit for about a week and a half. It should be a lot of fun showing them around and introducing them to people, etc. If anyone else feels the need to escape to a tropical paradise for a little while, know that you’re just a plane ticket away! American Airlines just started some really reasonably priced flights out of NYC, depending on the time of year…
After having done my laundry by hand for awhile now it’s not nearly as much of a pain as it used to be, and I think my clothes smell decently after washing them (I don’t know if that’s to say they’re really clean though). It made my day though when my elderly neighbor Sil saw my white laundry hanging up and asked me who did it. After jokingly telling her white guys can scrub a bit too, she laughed and told me she was impressed by how white they were and didn’t believe a man could wash so well. Her comment was flattering, but I’m sure she wouldn’t have been so complimentary had she taken a closer look…
So I’m excited to be starting my very own garden. Despite being from Kansas, I sadly know very little about gardening. Fortunately, however, a farmer from the area who I met on a walk allowed me to tag along with him for a day and learn a bit/help him out over the Christmas break, and told me that if I purchased some seeds from the Farmers’ Cooperative he would help me plant some things (“do a little ting” as they say they it) on his land. I’ve since planted some cucumbers and hope to also have a try at some watermelon, carrots, and okra.
Fatherhood has generally been treating me well, although it does have its trying times. Don’t worry…I’m referring to the dog, not a baby Bojangles (although I did have an old guy seriously tell me that I should “leave at least 2 mixed babies down here when I go” ) I’ve been working to break him of his aggressive possession of food (aggravated by ornery school children who try and simultaneously feed and play with him when I’m gone), as well as rid him of his tic infestation (I picked 10+ off of him at one time…have since gotten a tic/flea collar). He’s a sweet dog though and people in the community always ask me without fail where he is if I pass by without him.
So between half-washing my clothes and having awkward conversations with my host mom, what have I been doing, you might ask? The New Year has brought some new projects to work on that I hope will be successful. I’ve started a reading club at the primary school. I meet with the kids for about a half hour before school, read to them (currently “The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe”), and ask them questions about what’s going on in the story. I’m encouraged by how engaged and attentive the children are. During the normal school hours trying to get even a small group of students to follow along as each student reads can oftentimes be like pulling teeth, but when it’s in the context of being read to, they usually quickly congregate. I’m hoping that the reading club will help them realize that reading can be fun and enjoyable. Last week was also the first week that I started teaching the 3rd graders how to play the recorder. It was quite the challenge having 30 of them all together at once, each with an object that has the potential of making noise at their disposal. The lesson went alright, but it was challenging to keep them quiet and get around to each one to see whether they understood what was being taught.
I’ve also started working with the Farmers’ Cooperative to put together a proposal for available grant money through the Global Environment Facility (GEF), a United Nations program that gives out grants to CBOs and NGOs that address global environmental problems at the local level. We’re hoping to build off an organic farming GEF project that is already underway by doing something with composting (using a shredder). We also might look into the possibility of using coconut husks as a means to produce seedlings. It’s still in the early stages, so who knows where it might go. I feel a bit out of my element with the agricultural side of things, but I’m hoping that I’ll be able to assist with the proposal writing and coordinating of the project details.
I’m continuing giving the violin lessons and have started with more students in another community. I now have 17 students and am encouraged by the progress that some of them are making. The chance to help with the tennis program I mentioned previously unfortunately ended up falling through, but I’ve been playing on Fridays with a junior national girl’s champ after violin lessons. She’s a solid player and it’s been great to have the opportunity to pick up my racquet again.
I’m excited that my parents are coming in late February to visit for about a week and a half. It should be a lot of fun showing them around and introducing them to people, etc. If anyone else feels the need to escape to a tropical paradise for a little while, know that you’re just a plane ticket away! American Airlines just started some really reasonably priced flights out of NYC, depending on the time of year…
Thursday, December 27, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Earthquake and My Most Embarrassing Story Yet
Earthquake
So I experienced my first sizeable earthquake ever last week. It was the largest St. Lucia has had in roughly 20 years (7.4 on the Richter scale), and affected a good portion of the Caribbean. Nobody died, but houses noticeably shook for a good 10-15 seconds. It didn’t do any damage to my house, but some people had cracks in their houses, lost things off the walls, etc. Personally, at first I was just plain confused at what was going on, but after I realized what was happening I thought it was kind of exciting. Some people seriously thought it was the end of the world.
Embarrassing Mouse Story
Disclaimer: All animal activists should refrain from reading the following, as the contents might cause mild distress
It all started when I woke up one bright Sunday morning from a glorious night of rest, ready to leisurely make some French toast and eventually head off to church. I walked into the bathroom and something under the sink immediately caught my eye. As I eyed the contraption on the floor I was reminded that the day before I had decided my house would no longer serve as the play area for local mice. I was through chasing the little punks around trying to throw washing buckets on top of them to no avail. I had bought mouse traps from the store. Not the old-fashioned mouse traps either, the hardcore glue kind. No more games.
As I moved closer to the trap I spotted not one but two mice stuck to the trap. Score! I then progressed into the kitchen to check the other trap next to the stove. That one also had caught a little twerp. I then proceeded to ponder what the best course of action to take next was. Should I just throw away traps and mice together, leaving the critters to slowly starve? Or, should I humanely try and end their misery? I decided that the best course of action was, as terrible as it sounds, to try and stab the little critters to finish them off. After half-heartedly stabbing one of them a couple of times and not succeeding in killing him, I realized that I was just adding to its misery and that I didn’t have enough rage in me to continually stab him over and over. In all of my Peace Corps thriftiness, I then stupidly decided to salvage the trap with one mouse on it by prying the sucker off of it. Why not use at least one of the traps again, right? After all, doesn’t catching three mice indicate the potential presence of more scurrying about? Even though this proved a challenging feat, I somehow managed to pry the little critter completely off of the trap.
Now, the next step was to walk him far from the house and release him back into the wild, half covered in glue. This is where things get really sticky. My attempt to throw him off of the paper towel I was holding him with failed miserably, and the little beast ended up swinging back and landing on my arm, sticky side down. As I realized that shaking my arm was not going to solve the problem at hand, I started to freak out just a bit. I’m not terrified of mice, but when an angry, half-dead mouse was glued to my arm and wasn’t coming off, I started to get a bit agitated. I ended up ripping the critter off, along with a bit of arm hair.
The rest of the story involves a good deal of time spent uselessly trying to wash the stickiest glue imaginable off of my arm, as well as a walk of shame down to ask my host-parents for paint thinner (to assist in getting the glue off). They didn’t have any…
Volunteer Work at the School
Work at the school has been going alright lately, but I do at times feel like my contributions are minimal. The discipline issue continues to be a challenge, and sometime I feel like I’m doing more monitoring in classes than real teaching. Next term I plan to refine my involvement in the school, however, so I think it should get better next term. The school has a bunch of unused recorders, so I’ve been teaching myself to play it and will start up a music program. I also plan to start up a before or after school reading/math program and hopefully will recruit some of the older youth to help out.
Challenges in Development Work
Development here is quite a process. I’ve been working with the Development Committee here in Fond St. Jacques and just arranging a meeting for members of the group took over a month. There are a couple handfuls of very involved people in the community, but they are so busy serving on each and every committee, as well as having busy professional and personal lives, that they don’t have time to do arrange all of the development projects. We’re currently in the process of coming up with a new constitution and trying to get members from other community based organizations to serve on the committee.
Raining Cats and Dogs
So they weren’t joking around when they decided to call the period from June to November the “rainy season.” The amount of rain that we’ve been getting here these past few weeks is unreal. It’s so unpredictable too. One sunny day as I was hanging my clothes on the line to dry, thinking to myself “great, these will be dry in no time!”, it starts pouring rain. “Eh eh” I thought, annoyed as I look up at the quickly changing sky. One thing I’ve learned is to always keep an umbrella close at hand, because you never know when a torrential downpour is headed your way.
What’s Privacy?
So I’ve pretty much renounced any sense of privacy. One night I was making a pizza and one of the neighborhood kids came by. I reluctantly let him come in and help make pizza. After it was cooked I gave him a couple pieces and he went home for the night. A couple days later a whole mob of boys comes to my house insisting to make a pizza. A few days later one of the teachers at the school asks me how cooking has been going and adds that he’s heard I’m quite the fan of pizza. Since I’ve allowed one kid into my house I’ve had to be very direct about setting boundaries, as I don’t want my house transformed into Fond St. Jacques’ first zoo. For awhile, the same group of kids kept coming over every night at the most inconvenient times (e.g., while I was cooking, right when I got home), expecting me to let them come and just hang out, watch TV, etc. I had to clearly explain that my home is not the local hangout and that I also don’t have enough food to cook for all the kids in the community. I’ve since worked out a reasonable compromise with them that has worked well so far. They are welcome to come over to my house if the time is spent reading. I have a few children’s books and got a few more from the library in town. I’m pleasantly surprised how well they’ve responded to it. Learning to read is one of the challenges that many of the kids here face. It seems that oftentimes they memorize words but haven’t developed phonemic awareness, and thus have trouble sounding out unfamiliar words.
Ant Invasion
So the mosquito situation hasn’t been as bad here as it was during training, but ants occasionally invade with full force. As much as I try to be very clean and dispose of every crumb and granule of sugar, sometimes when I wake up and walk into the kitchen I feel like I’m in the middle of Alfred Hitchcock’s movie Ants! Or maybe his movie was Birds. Anyway, you get the picture. Until I saw how attracted ants are to sugar I thought my sweet tooth was unrivaled, but now I’m not so sure.
Mwen pa pyes touris
One difficulty I’ve faced since being here has been distinguishing myself from the tourist crowd. It hasn’t been too much of a problem in my community, but when I go into Soufriere to buy groceries taxis ask me if I need a ride, people beg for money, etc. I feel torn because part of me wants to give some of them a bit of money, but at the same time I don’t want to set a precedent, especially since word travels fast, and I don’t actually have a ton to give anyway. Anse Chastenet, one of the top hotels in the world, where guests pay $1000 plus a night, is within walking distance of town. Jalousie, voted the world’s most romantic hotel, is also close by. I’ve started saying “mwen pa pyes touris” (I’m not just a tourist) to some of them, and that seems to detract them from persisting.
At the same time, there are occasions when acting like a tourist has its benefits. Some friends and I went to the beach at Anse Chastenet (the hotel) to do some snorkeling. I am pleased to say that I successfully managed to beat the system and sit in the “hotel only” lounge chairs under the shaded umbrellas without getting asked to leave. Usually every time I try and do something slick I end up getting caught, but fortunately a female PCV friend of mine was with me so we blended in with all the honeymooners.
Thanksgiving
Even though it was very strange to experience Thanksgiving in a tropical climate, and it felt nothing at all like it, it was quite an enjoyable time. All the PCVs got together for a spectacular Thanksgiving feast, which included three turkeys, creamed corn, mashed potatoes, pie, cobbler, and all those other wonderful foods. I anticipate Christmas feeling even stranger. I have spent Thanksgiving away from family for a few years now, but Christmas has always been spent in relative cold Kansas with family.
So I experienced my first sizeable earthquake ever last week. It was the largest St. Lucia has had in roughly 20 years (7.4 on the Richter scale), and affected a good portion of the Caribbean. Nobody died, but houses noticeably shook for a good 10-15 seconds. It didn’t do any damage to my house, but some people had cracks in their houses, lost things off the walls, etc. Personally, at first I was just plain confused at what was going on, but after I realized what was happening I thought it was kind of exciting. Some people seriously thought it was the end of the world.
Embarrassing Mouse Story
Disclaimer: All animal activists should refrain from reading the following, as the contents might cause mild distress
It all started when I woke up one bright Sunday morning from a glorious night of rest, ready to leisurely make some French toast and eventually head off to church. I walked into the bathroom and something under the sink immediately caught my eye. As I eyed the contraption on the floor I was reminded that the day before I had decided my house would no longer serve as the play area for local mice. I was through chasing the little punks around trying to throw washing buckets on top of them to no avail. I had bought mouse traps from the store. Not the old-fashioned mouse traps either, the hardcore glue kind. No more games.
As I moved closer to the trap I spotted not one but two mice stuck to the trap. Score! I then progressed into the kitchen to check the other trap next to the stove. That one also had caught a little twerp. I then proceeded to ponder what the best course of action to take next was. Should I just throw away traps and mice together, leaving the critters to slowly starve? Or, should I humanely try and end their misery? I decided that the best course of action was, as terrible as it sounds, to try and stab the little critters to finish them off. After half-heartedly stabbing one of them a couple of times and not succeeding in killing him, I realized that I was just adding to its misery and that I didn’t have enough rage in me to continually stab him over and over. In all of my Peace Corps thriftiness, I then stupidly decided to salvage the trap with one mouse on it by prying the sucker off of it. Why not use at least one of the traps again, right? After all, doesn’t catching three mice indicate the potential presence of more scurrying about? Even though this proved a challenging feat, I somehow managed to pry the little critter completely off of the trap.
Now, the next step was to walk him far from the house and release him back into the wild, half covered in glue. This is where things get really sticky. My attempt to throw him off of the paper towel I was holding him with failed miserably, and the little beast ended up swinging back and landing on my arm, sticky side down. As I realized that shaking my arm was not going to solve the problem at hand, I started to freak out just a bit. I’m not terrified of mice, but when an angry, half-dead mouse was glued to my arm and wasn’t coming off, I started to get a bit agitated. I ended up ripping the critter off, along with a bit of arm hair.
The rest of the story involves a good deal of time spent uselessly trying to wash the stickiest glue imaginable off of my arm, as well as a walk of shame down to ask my host-parents for paint thinner (to assist in getting the glue off). They didn’t have any…
Volunteer Work at the School
Work at the school has been going alright lately, but I do at times feel like my contributions are minimal. The discipline issue continues to be a challenge, and sometime I feel like I’m doing more monitoring in classes than real teaching. Next term I plan to refine my involvement in the school, however, so I think it should get better next term. The school has a bunch of unused recorders, so I’ve been teaching myself to play it and will start up a music program. I also plan to start up a before or after school reading/math program and hopefully will recruit some of the older youth to help out.
Challenges in Development Work
Development here is quite a process. I’ve been working with the Development Committee here in Fond St. Jacques and just arranging a meeting for members of the group took over a month. There are a couple handfuls of very involved people in the community, but they are so busy serving on each and every committee, as well as having busy professional and personal lives, that they don’t have time to do arrange all of the development projects. We’re currently in the process of coming up with a new constitution and trying to get members from other community based organizations to serve on the committee.
Raining Cats and Dogs
So they weren’t joking around when they decided to call the period from June to November the “rainy season.” The amount of rain that we’ve been getting here these past few weeks is unreal. It’s so unpredictable too. One sunny day as I was hanging my clothes on the line to dry, thinking to myself “great, these will be dry in no time!”, it starts pouring rain. “Eh eh” I thought, annoyed as I look up at the quickly changing sky. One thing I’ve learned is to always keep an umbrella close at hand, because you never know when a torrential downpour is headed your way.
What’s Privacy?
So I’ve pretty much renounced any sense of privacy. One night I was making a pizza and one of the neighborhood kids came by. I reluctantly let him come in and help make pizza. After it was cooked I gave him a couple pieces and he went home for the night. A couple days later a whole mob of boys comes to my house insisting to make a pizza. A few days later one of the teachers at the school asks me how cooking has been going and adds that he’s heard I’m quite the fan of pizza. Since I’ve allowed one kid into my house I’ve had to be very direct about setting boundaries, as I don’t want my house transformed into Fond St. Jacques’ first zoo. For awhile, the same group of kids kept coming over every night at the most inconvenient times (e.g., while I was cooking, right when I got home), expecting me to let them come and just hang out, watch TV, etc. I had to clearly explain that my home is not the local hangout and that I also don’t have enough food to cook for all the kids in the community. I’ve since worked out a reasonable compromise with them that has worked well so far. They are welcome to come over to my house if the time is spent reading. I have a few children’s books and got a few more from the library in town. I’m pleasantly surprised how well they’ve responded to it. Learning to read is one of the challenges that many of the kids here face. It seems that oftentimes they memorize words but haven’t developed phonemic awareness, and thus have trouble sounding out unfamiliar words.
Ant Invasion
So the mosquito situation hasn’t been as bad here as it was during training, but ants occasionally invade with full force. As much as I try to be very clean and dispose of every crumb and granule of sugar, sometimes when I wake up and walk into the kitchen I feel like I’m in the middle of Alfred Hitchcock’s movie Ants! Or maybe his movie was Birds. Anyway, you get the picture. Until I saw how attracted ants are to sugar I thought my sweet tooth was unrivaled, but now I’m not so sure.
Mwen pa pyes touris
One difficulty I’ve faced since being here has been distinguishing myself from the tourist crowd. It hasn’t been too much of a problem in my community, but when I go into Soufriere to buy groceries taxis ask me if I need a ride, people beg for money, etc. I feel torn because part of me wants to give some of them a bit of money, but at the same time I don’t want to set a precedent, especially since word travels fast, and I don’t actually have a ton to give anyway. Anse Chastenet, one of the top hotels in the world, where guests pay $1000 plus a night, is within walking distance of town. Jalousie, voted the world’s most romantic hotel, is also close by. I’ve started saying “mwen pa pyes touris” (I’m not just a tourist) to some of them, and that seems to detract them from persisting.
At the same time, there are occasions when acting like a tourist has its benefits. Some friends and I went to the beach at Anse Chastenet (the hotel) to do some snorkeling. I am pleased to say that I successfully managed to beat the system and sit in the “hotel only” lounge chairs under the shaded umbrellas without getting asked to leave. Usually every time I try and do something slick I end up getting caught, but fortunately a female PCV friend of mine was with me so we blended in with all the honeymooners.
Thanksgiving
Even though it was very strange to experience Thanksgiving in a tropical climate, and it felt nothing at all like it, it was quite an enjoyable time. All the PCVs got together for a spectacular Thanksgiving feast, which included three turkeys, creamed corn, mashed potatoes, pie, cobbler, and all those other wonderful foods. I anticipate Christmas feeling even stranger. I have spent Thanksgiving away from family for a few years now, but Christmas has always been spent in relative cold Kansas with family.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
