No man, yuh kyann manage dat. (Yes I can!)

My days seem to consist of several moments of complete confusion strung together by alternating bouts of comprehension and helplessness. I have come to the conclusion that this confusion and helplessness are largely due to my education and living on my own. I have been training my whole life to block out distractions, concentrate on the task at hand, working on computers and in books. I'm very good at blocking out distractions. So good, that I don't see so-and-so's truck parked by the school or notice the new rain-catchment tank in the neighbor's yard. The Jamaicans in my community have superhuman observation skills. A red dot on a hillside is Ms. Daisy. They can hear the bus on the road from over a mile away (although once my host sister did confuse it with a tractor). One woman in the district who is particularly observant (and particularly gossipy) can glance into a passing bus and can tell you exactly who is leaving Westphalia, where they are going, and about what most everyone is doing there. News in general spreads extremely fast here, which I guess might be characteristic of most small towns. (Westphalia had about 500 people.) It's great for advertising community meetings but often leaves me feeling out of the loop. For example, the other day I was wrapping up a conversation with a friend so that I could visit with a neighbor down the street. When I mentioned where I was going, the friend said "Oh that neighbor isn't at home. I think he's at the nine-night in Resource." When I asked him how he knew he said that he heard his voice a while back while were were talking, and the obvious place for him to be going at this hour was the nine-night. He probably got there about 15 minutes ago. Didn't you see a lot of people going up the road through that hole in the bamboo fence? No, I was paying attention to our conversation. I didn't see anyone going up the road, and I didn't hear anyone's voice either. Are you sure it was him? Sure enough, as the neighbor picked up my phone call I could hear the duppy band in the background. He was at the nine-night.

I have had a great many humbling experiences in Peace Corps so far. Not only have I been training to block out distractions my whole life, I've also gotten used to living on my own for the past five years. Now I'm going from cooking for one to cooking for 11. The pot is a lot harder to stir! Turning on a sink is a lot easier than pouring water from a large basin. I'm really fast at working on computers and with spreadsheets, but I'm pretty slow at hand washing. I can open a can easily with a can opener, but the school doesn't have one. It turns out I'm pretty clumsy with a knife. Probably the number one skill that Peace Corps Volunteers should have is skill with a knife. Other skills that would come in handy are construction, farming/machete weilding, and carrying things on your head. In any case, I'm lousy at all these pratical skills. I never realized that I lived such a stoosh life. All of these changes coupled with the stereotype that white people are weak result in me hearing "No, you can't manage that." several times a week. Most of the time its people taking care of me and protecting me, but it gets frustrating sometimes to hear that. Right now there are some things that I can't manage. Hopefully though, at the end of two years, I'll come back swining a machete with a bucket of water on my head, and my community will be literate and have piped water.