Making Brooms

One of the most characteristic features of Karanambu is the isolation.  The ranch is about 125 square miles, with the nearest community of more than 30 houses about 16 miles away.  The sparse population allows for amazing wildlife sightings and has kept the surrounding ecosystems remarkably pristine.  So far I've spotted caiman, iguanas, an anteater, and several types of monkies.

 Mama Georgie and I making brooms from coconut branches

There are about 10 staff members living here - the same amount of people that lived in my yard in Jamaica!  I have adopted everyone here as my new host family, and they have adopted me as well.  Last week, after a rousing morning of bat killing (marapa in Makushi) Georgina told me I am her newest daughter and that I must learn how to make a broom out of coconut branches.  We set to stripping the green leaves off the stems of the branches midst swatting away the black flies.  After setting the stems to dry, we bundled them together and tied them with an old bicycle tube.  Voila -  A Rupununi style broom!

All finished - time to sweep!

Nature's Cure

Karanambu's cure-all:  the Neem Tree!

I'm happy to report that the effects of the mefloquine are not permanent!  Thankfully, the Peace Corps medical staff was very supportive and I was able to stop taking the mefloquine.  I'm feeling much better which I think is in part due to the Neem tea I've been drinking.  Karanambu has a beautiful large Neem tree, originally from India, which can do anything from curing cuts to purifying your blood.  It is even an insecticide (although the kushi ants - a big problem for local gardeners - still like to eat them).  Just boil a handful of leaves in two cups of water and drink three times a week until the malady has left you!  Like most herbal medicines, it's horribly bitter but I've been sneaking a couple spoonfuls of sugar into it.  Shhh!  Auntie Georgie likes to drink it with me, although she would never be so sacrilegious as to add a sweetener. Suzette tells me its a good contraceptive, although I'm not sure how many people know about that because family size tends to be rather large.  I even got one of the guests to try it to cure her cold, although I found out later it can cure pretty much anything except colds.  (Sorry Alana!)  I do feel better, and I'm hoping that the neem will make my blood so bitter that the bugs won't bite me at all!

All Drugged Up

I had been a bit anxious about moving to Karanambu, nervous about new people and a new place.  As the days progressed at Karanambu, my anxiety, instead of easing, got progressively worse.  I was having trouble concentrating on what people were telling me, couldn't remember anything, and couldn't sleep.  My skin started tingling.  I got paranoid and started thinking that maybe my hosts were drugging me - like the kool aid incident from the 70s.  That's when it dawned on me - I was being drugged! - but not by the lodge.  Because there are cases of malaria in Guyana, Peace Corps medical requires us to take prophylaxsis medication to prevent volunteers from contracting the disease.  I hurriedly scrambled about trying to find the information sheet running back and forth between rooms and buildings.  Finding the sheet, I realized I couldn't even read it properly.  The same things were printed in about five different places with no apparent order.  I finally found the beginning of the document and was relieved to see that the first symptom was severe anxiety, the second paranoia, followed closely behind by feeling restless, unusual behavior, and feeling confused. Whatever temporary relief that passage had given me was erased by the next.  "In some patients these serious and sudden side effects can go on after the mefloquine is stopped." Yiiiikes!  I stopped taking the medicine and started learning breathing exercises.  Let's hope that my new found solidarity for people with anxiety disorders goes away soon!

Arrival in Guyana

I got a position as a Peace Corps Response volunteer at Karanambu eco-lodge in the North Rupununi of Guyana building a well for potable water and drip irrigation system for their garden.
  
I arrived in Georgetown on June 11th and spent the week getting to know the city.  Guyana is considered culturally Caribbean even though it is geographically in South America.  I saw a lot of sights in Georgetown that were familiar to me from Jamaica.  From the markets to the minibuses, I felt at home.  A lot of Jamaican reggae and dancehall was playing in the streets, and I saw Vybz Kartel’s face plastered on the shop windows.  In fact, the heavy bass from the cars passing the hotel set off the alarm on a few parked cars!  

From the schoolers in uniform to the minibuses, Georgetown reminds me a lot of Jamaica.

Stabroek Market

Georgetown, once known as the garden city, was built by the Dutch and is therefore characterized by the extensive canal system through the city.  It is six feet below sea level, and the ocean is kept at bay by the sea wall and kokers which can be opened to drain the city of excess water, or opened at low tide to flood the city and clean the streets.  In fact, last week a dozing koker attendant left one open and accidentally flooded the city.

A koker, with koker attendant station to the left.  The kokers and seawall prevent the city, six feet below sea level, from flooding.

An extensive canal system, built by the Dutch, crisscrosses Georgetown, and is largely overgrown.

One of the most striking differences between Guyana and Jamaica was the water, which is brown because of all the rich silt deposited from the three major rivers that flow through Guyana. 

A fishing pier surrounded by water made brown by silt deposits from the interior.

I arrived with another Peace Corps Response Volunteer, and we swore in after two days of orientation to the city and the Peace Corps office. 

Just after swearing in as a Peace Corps Response Volunteer.  From left to right Eric in charge of financial matters, Brennan country director, me, Flavio my program manager, and Jake fellow response volunteer.

I spent the next few days meeting Peace Corps volunteers and buying provisions because Peace Corps will not fly me back from the interior for another three months.  After 4 days in Georgetown, Flavio and I left for Karanambu.  

We flew on a small plane out of Ogle, the local airport.

 Eco-friendly reusable boarding passes

 All buckled in!

Tickets are paid for by weight so I hopped onto the scale with my bag on my back.  Our first landing was in Annai on a paved but potholed airstrip.  The landing at Karanambu was actually smooter although the airstrip was simply the iron-rich dirt which characterizes the interior of Guyana.  We were heartily welcomed to the grasslands of the Rupununi by Diane, owner of Karanambu Lodge and Ranch, Jerry a returned resident to Guyana, and Royal, senior member of the Amerindian staff.

 The welcome committee at Karanambu airstrip

The buildings at Karanambu are made of brick baked from laterite which composes most of the surrounding soil.

Karanmbu Lodge is quiet and isolated, but full of wildlife which we witnessed on a boat tour down the Rupununi River with Jerry and Mike (staff at Karanambu).  We saw some fun wildlife.  The river is surrounded by forest and is home to all sorts of creatures like monkeys and parrots.

Riding the Rupununi River!

 Victoria Amazonica

The tour ended at a pond filled with Victoria Amazonica, a giant waterlily which looks like something out of a comicbook.  The lily pads are strong - Mike's baby brother laid on one to pose for a postcard photograph - and the birds like to walk on them.  They are bright green with spikes around the edges.  The flowers only open at night and turn from white to pink on the third day.  I was half expecting them to pick up our boat and eat us or at least carry us to the mothership, but as it was we sipped lime juice and listened to the passing parrots as the flowers calmly opened.  

 An iguana naps in the afternoon sun.

Some red howler monkeys

Karanambu generously built a house specially for volunteers and I'm neatly settled in.  The plan is to dream and plan until the managers of the lodge return in August.

Home sweet home

Living in luxury!

Things I learned from Jamaica

My close of service was May 17th. It was so hard to say goodbye. The last week was full of tears, talk of ambitious travel plans, and last minute bustling. Westphalia sent me off in style with an extravagant surprise going away party at the school which was decorated so splendidly it was barely recognizable. The event lasted from 6:30 until midnight and was filled with songs, dances, good food, speeches, and of course no Jamaican even would be complete without a big sound system with plenty of music! The teachers, staff, students, parents, and community members were so generous and loving. I have never felt so appreciated in my life. If I had gotten that much attention at the beginning of my service I would have crawled under a table or gone running for the nearest exit. But, after having lived as a minority and a foreigner for two years, I could handle attention.

 dancing with my host sister Peenie

all the teachers I worked with in Jamaica

 

My experience in Jamaica has taught me many things, and changed me in some ways irreversibly. I've given it a lot of thought, and started a list of all the things I've learned in Jamaica. So here it goes....



THINGS JAMAICA HAS TAUGHT ME:

how to share

how to handle attention

what I look like to other people

confidence

how to be friendly/talk to strangers

to sing and dance more

how to eat bones and fat

to be more observant and aware of what people are doing and why they might be doing those things

to be cleaner and more conscious of dirt

to understand the place and purpose of animals

how to entertain myself

to be ok feeling hungry

all about fashion and nails

how to wait

how to give gifts

how to receiving things

to be more comfortable touching and being touched

an appreciation for clubs and partying

how to communicate without words

my hosts sisters (Peenie and Tashorn), me, and my godson

every grade sang songs and wrote postcards

When I first arrived in Jamaica we did an exercise in training. Everyone who thought that work was more important than people went to one side of the room. Everyone who put people before work went to the other side of the room. At that time, I was one of four on the work before people side. Probably the best lesson Jamaica has taught me is put people first. So, thank you to all the amazing people who formed my Peace Corps service!

Treasure Beach Triathlon

Sammi Travis, a fellow PCV and good friend, and I decided last year that we would enter the Treasure Beach Triathlon this year. Treasure Beach is a windswept tourism town on the southcoast which can tend to be a little lonesome if you don't bring your friends. Luckily we had ours - a whole house full of them. As my friends and family know, I am not a sports person. I quit the T-ball team when they took away the T. I got cut from the volleyball team in 8th grade. I always chose table tennis over basketball in gym class in high school. Needless to say, this was my first race. I might as well make my first race a triathlon! Training would be an excuse get fit, and a great way to celebrate two years of service in Jamaica. As it turns out, neither of us really trained, but we both won the purple monkey award, a special award for those who come in last place!

Receiving the purple monkey award.  Yes, it looks red to me too.

The triathlon consisted of a little bit of open-water ocean swimming, a lot of biking on dirt trails and backroads, and to top it all off a healthy dose of running. We all lined up on the beach, and then charged into the sea at the whistle. My bathing suits had been destroyed by the salt, sun, and handwashing, but my shorts and tank top worked fine for me. I backstroked my way towards shore, where Sammi, being a faster swimmer, was waiting for me. Being slightly unorganized, as things tend to be in developing nations, there was no water at the end of the swimming of the race. A little parched, we donned our clothes and helmets, hopped on our bicycles and started riding.



Within the first 5 miles of riding I passed a racer sitting at the side of the trail with his out-of-commision bicycle. Being the good Jamaican that I am I stopped to see if he needed any help. Roadside assistance in Jamaica is wonderful. If you are stopped on the road for any reason most cars will stop and ask if you need help. And most of those drivers know some mechanic work to help you too. Sammi road up a little later and the two of us helped him patch his bicycle tire, another skill we had learned in Jamaica. Unfortunately, while we were helping him every last racer passed us! Sammi and I are slow people in general (late because I stopped to smell the roses individuals) so this didn’t really bother us too much.

In fact, soon after we started riding again we passed some large mango trees with people eating mangoes below them. Still feeling thirsty from the swim, Sammi suggested we stop and join them. Hey, we’re already in last place and I made us stop to fix the tire, why not? We stopped and ate and chatted, and ate some more. We tried three varieties of mangoes, and got invited back to load our bags before we left the next day. Bellies full we got back on our bicycles again. Well, apparently word got out that there were “two white ladies climbing mango trees!” because every water station we passed people asked us how the mangoes tasted!

We did it!!

We parked our bicycles at the finish line, and began the run. By now, the sun was hot, and we were both tired but happy. As we were coming in for the home stretch, we realized that we were going to run past the house that we were staying in. We had brought two red stripes with us for a celebratory toast, and the opportunity was too fortuitous to pass up. I popped into the house, popped the bottle caps, and popped back onto the road. We left the bottle caps on the beers, which is a Jamaican style of serving beer, which made them convenient travel mugs. We crossed the finish line, beers in hand, to the cheering of our fellow Peace Corps Volunteers, and cries of “we’re going to put you in our newsletter!” from the Treasure Beach women’s society. The triathlon was an allegory for the way we live our lives, its not about the destination, it’s about the journey. The purple monkey will sit proudly on my shelf as a reminder to stop and eat the mangoes!

Proudly cradling our red stripes after the race

Books, Books, and More Books

I would like to publically thank The International Alliance for Children's Literacy for their generous donation of a barrel of books and school supplies. In fact, it was so generous that it was too many books for Westphalia All Age School! I distributed the books around the island to other Peace Corps Volunteers and so their donation has actually helped thousands of children in dozens of schools in many parishes across Jamaica. Big ups to this wonderful organization!

Running water at Westphalia All Age School!

Last month, for the first time in over 30 years, water flowed out of the faucet at Westphalia All Age School. It has been a long and arduous project delayed by governmental red tape, rain, hillside fires, and lack of support but it is finally completed. And just in time too - the rainwater harvesting tank had been running low due to lack of rainfall in the past few months. Students can feel free to wash their hands anytime and can drink some water after a sweaty game of football!

Students enjoy clean drinking water for the first time in over 30 years

The project was started soon after I arrived in Westphalia, in November 2010 with our first planning meeting. After several months of planning and seeking different means of funding we finally found Appropriate Projects (an itinitative of water charity) and with their help and the support of the National Water Commision (NWC) began burying and laying the pipe in May, 2011. I realized that the pipe from Appropriate Projects would not be enough; we would have to source the water from higher up the hill that we had originally thought. So, we lobbied with NWC and after several months, they agreed to assist us. Then with several weeks of waiting for pipe from NWC followed by several weeks of manual labor, we slowly pieced together the pipe. It was successfully installed by December 2011, in time for my trip back to the United States for Christmas. I arrived back in Jamaica in the middle of January. Before even reaching up to my community, I learned the bad news: our pipe had burned. Some young men caught up in the Christmas festivities had lit a fire on the hillside. In order to protect the pipe (from both fire and people) we had buried it at least 6 inches in the ground - except for about 20 lengths - the 20 lengths that burned. We didn't bury those lengths of pipe because the slope on the hillside was so steep and the grass so tall that it would be very difficult work. With the fire having cleared the grass for us, we were back at it again, this time making sure to completely bury every inch. While it was disheartening at the time, I'm actually glad this happened while I was still in the community rather than later when the community would not necessarily have the resources to repair the pipe.

Connecting the pipe was suspensful. The usual team of three (Fitzroy, the NWC representative in the area and myself) met in Cinchonia Botanical Gardens at the top of the mountain to connect the mile of buried PVC pipe to the main. Also as usual we didn't have the right tools, or fittings for the job. With several pieces of PVC, rubber cement, and a fire, we jerry-rigged a connection that allowed the five houses on the old line to still recieve water and to divert some of it to onto the new line to the school. I hopped on my bicycle and plummeted down the hill to the school to watch the water gush out of the pipe. When I arrived I snuck past the teachers, and expectantly turned on the faucet, hoping to surprise them. Nothing. I dashed back up to the place where the line exited the earth and put my ear to it. Nothing. I disconnected it and looked down the pipe. I'm not sure what I was expecting to see, but again, nothing. Great, there's a leak. Who knows where it is? I slumped down in defeat next to the pipe, trying to muster the courage to walk back up to the top of the mountain looking for leaks when - whoooosh! Out came the water! I had actually beat the water down the mountainside! I let out a scream of joy and all the children came running. We had water! Hug and smiles and our thirst was quenched.

Ms. Tati, our school cook now just turns on the faucet to wash the dishes!

Thank you to all those who have helped in our project: NWC, Appropriate Projects, and all the community members who contributed their hard work. I couldn't have done it without you!

School Garden Part 3

Proud farmers display their produce

The school garden was a great success last year. After our harvest of string beans and turnips we planted and reaped lettuce, tomatoes, sweet peppers, hot peppers, and carrots. We had such a bountiful harvest that we could not use all of the vegetables at the school. We sent some of the produce to the local shops and market and a lot of it to needy families. The profits from the garden will be used towards seeds and fertilizer for this school year and for the school nutrition program (more to follow). We are looking forward to planting more string beans, carrots, tomato, broccoli, and lettuce within the next month. Our sweet pepper and hot pepper plants are still bearing along with scallion and thyme the key ingredients in every Jamaican dish.

A local shopkeeper sells our tomatoes in his shop and at the market

Summer is gone...Back to School Fun!

Yesterday was the second full week of school. School let out early on Friday afternoon, as usual. I stayed later to let students swap library books. They were excited because they get to take two books on the weekends. However, after library time was long gone I was surprised to see a group of students still hovering in the school yard, debating the differences between sharks and dolphins. This is a Friday afternoon! Don't you want to go home throw off your school uniforms and have some fun? I guess I shouldn't have been. Jamaican children love school. In Westphalia at least children would much rather be in school than at home. Summer was boring and they are so happy to be back in school again. The teachers tell me it's because they have too many chores to do at home. I'm not sure what it is but Shhh! don't tell them they're not supposed to like it!

At the end of last year I asked my students if they wanted to continue reading classes over the summer, expecting them to say no. Another surprise: yes miss! How many days a week would you like to have them? Everyday miss! But you wouldn't want to have it all day, just for about an hour or so? All day miss! We compromised with reading class Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday mornings and swimming lessons at the river on Fridays when most children help their parents on the farm. Swimming lessons were large and sometimes more fun than swimming. Reading classes were small but successful. Between November and July one student improved by 3 grade levels, two students improved 2 grade levels, and 8 students improved 1 grade level. Most of them are still below grade level, but hopefully that will change this year!

Mondays, Saturdays, and some Sundays were dedicated to water work days with a core group of men in the community laying water pipe to the school. Thanks to Appropriate Projects my fellow Peace Corps Volunteer Daniel McDonald's parents Judy and Doug McDonald, the National Water Commission, and community members the pipe has nearly reached the school (only 20 lengths to go!). Work days were frustrating at times due to lack of support, but we have successfully carried, dug trenches for, joined, laid, and buried over 150 20' lengths of pipe.

I also had several visitors this summer, and hurricane Irene was not one of them! My friends and fellow Peace Corps Volunteers Sammi Travis and Patrick Marti came on a river day. Two new Peace Corps Volunteers Sarah Marshall and Crystal Aeppli came and helped Fitzroy and I weed out the garden and carry two inch pipe on their shoulders - what great sports. Thank you guys!

Mom and Dad enjoying Jamaica's natural beauty.

Finally, my PARENTS came to visit me in Jamaica. Which was BIG NEWS in Westphalia. My parents kept asking "When can we come visit?" My community kept asking "When are mommy and daddy going to come look for you?" and I was the major stone in the road keeping these two groups from meeting each other. They come very different worlds and I, living somewhere between the two, was afraid I would be mortified by their interactions. However these two forces were bigger than me, and they arrived mid-July. My fears were misplaced. My parents were wonderfully flexible. They stayed in Westphalia for a few days and took bucket baths like pros! My community members were very welcoming opening up their hearts and homes and sending them on their way with freshly ground coffee. I had wild dreams about us riding bikes through the mountains for two days but when one of the valves on the tubes sprung a leak we had to content ourselves with a rusty old truck ride. At one point during the ride, Dad looked down through the holes in the rusted out bottom of the truck to see a fire below his seat. Luckily, our driver was a mechanic and after whacking the battery with a wrench a few times it was as good as new. I am used to drivers moonlighting as a mechanics but my parents were remarkably cool about it as well. We had several more adventures far from the traditional all-inclusive Jamaican vacation including touring a bammy factory and swimming in one of Jamaica's many "blue holes" which are gorgeous clear blue water usually with a waterfall as a backdrop. We topped it off with the highlight of my summer - turtles. We helped 148 baby turtles hatch and watched a mother lay another 100 something eggs. I got to swim out to sea with the babies until they tucked their flippers into their sides and drifted out with the current.

There were literally HANDFULLS of turtles. They are so determined and independent from birth - they know exactly where the ocean is and head straight for it. As we say in Jamaica "Dem no business wit nobody."

Fitzroy, my community counterpart and right hand man for our water project and school garden, and I also got to do some traveling including visiting his daughter in Trinityville, St. Thomas and going to the yearly Jamaican Agriculture show in Denbigh, Clarendon. All in all, it was an enjoyable summer and I'm excited for school to be back in session again!

Den den, Fitzroy and I pretending riding Jamaica's newly reinstated train at Denbigh.

Labor Day

Pipes donated by Appropriate Projects were buried to provide clean water to the school.





Parents paint the school yard walls in Westphalia All Age School's colors: green and gold.

May 23rd was Jamaica's Labor Day. Labor Day in Jamaica is not a random day off like in America, it is a day of labor for the community. Parents and children from all over the district flocked to the school on Monday to paint, clean, and lay pipe. The school looks so much brighter now, thanks to everyone's hard work!

Students, present and past, working together to help their school.

Courtney and Joshua help stretch two gallons of paint to cover all the walls

Carnival

Carnival Paraders take a break after several hours of walking in the hot Kingston sun.

Just before attending mid-service conference I got to witness Jamaica’s carnival. Carnival is a Caribbean tradition which originally started in Trinidad and Tobago and involves scantily clad men and women dancing in drunken orgies to ward off duppies or evil spirits. Needless to say it was quite and experience. It was different from most Jamaican parties in a few key ways 1) it was during the day 2) it was moving (a parade) and 3) people were dancing the whole time. It was like a giant conga line all throughout Kingston! I went with a busload of people from my community, most of them men in their early twenties (or to steal a term from Taylor, a fellow volunteer, the idle bwois). Up until the trip I’d had a hard time interacting with them. I’m mostly friends with the kids (15 and below) and the grandparents (40 and up). The kids are still innocent, fun, and up for anything and the grandparents are mature enough to carry on a decent conversation. When I'm talking to women my age the conversation usually peters out after I ask how their children are. If the men don't try to hit on me, the conversation usually stops right after hello.

Going out with the idle bwois was a real bonding experience. We caught the parade in New Kingston, near to the Peace Corps Jamaica head office, an area I am very familiar with. For the first time, I was showing Jamaicans around Jamaica, a wonderful feeling! I kept them from getting lost and they saved me from a creepy clown who talked in a high pitched squeaky voice. Of course the majority of our interactions since that day have been us saying the same greetings as always but in the creepy clown voice. The conversation isn't exactly gushing forth, but hey, a bridge was crossed and I don’t feel so uncomfortable walking through the square anymore.

Rejuvenation!

The past few months (January – March) were very difficult for me. I just got back from our mid-service (yes its been a year!) conference where we talked about the volunteer life cycle and the one year slump. Most volunteers have a difficult time right around the one year mark. It was definitely a slump but I’m pleased to announce I’m on the way up and out! The biggest contributing factor was my recent trip to the U.S. for Easter. Thank you, thank you, thank you to my family for listening to me complain and giving me so many pep talks. I am energized and ready to dig into the second year of service! It should be noted that most of my community says foreign was good to me, that I’m glowing now, and also that I look so fat and pretty (a major compliment in Jamaica).

I was really trying not to go home for the full two years in order to totally immerse myself if something different, but I didn’t make it. I managed to explain to my community that no, I don’t have money my family is paying for the ticket (sorry Mom and Dad you might get begged big-time when you get here) but I still heard a lot of ridiculous requests. Foreign is a magical land where geese lay golden eggs and ipods grow on trees. So I was SUPPOSED to carry back several computers, three pairs of shoes, a blackberry, pizza, a variety of gourmet cheeses, pounds of broccoli seed and a few mp3 players. I ended up bringing 100 lbs of used books that students from Loomis Elementary School generously donated and some soaps and candles that we had gotten at one time or another and never used. It was tricky, but I think I managed to walk the fine line between every parent in the district asking me to pay their child’s school fees and insulting someone close to me because I didn’t “carry something back for them (do please do).” The Jamaican pleading “do” and “come now” are so hard to say no to!

Grades 6-9 pose for a class picture with their new books on Literacy Day 2011

Bringing the books to the school was a major feat which involved a car, one airplane, three taxis, two buses, and 17 hours of travel time. It also included me getting stranded in downtown Kingston (yeah the dangerous part of the island) after dark and two very kind strangers, angels really, each carrying a 50 lb box of books about 7 blocks for me. To celebrate, we organized a last minute Literacy Day 2011 celebration yesterday which was held, you guessed it, today! As a procrastinator, Jamaican planning is just my style! It was a huge success. All the students are SUPER excited about the new books and better still SUPER excited about reading. The principal and I had to forcibly herd the children out of the library appeasing them with promises that they could check a book out on Thursday once they have been organized.

Reading, books, and more reading!

Everything is looking up. We’re going to build shelves for the books, move the library into a bigger room, and put in a computer with reading games. Our garden is looking fantastic (who knew everything could grow so much in three weeks?!) and students are EATING VEGETABLES EVERY DAY and even taking some home for the rest of their family. Also, even though the National Water Commission is full of false promises and bureaucracy it looks like not all hope is gone for the community water project after all. Hopefully, more on that is to come. Until then, our eyes are wide and dreamy and we look fat and pretty!

Am I encouraging racism?

This past weekend was a big one for my host family. Lion's Canadian boss came to visit Jamaica and took all his Jamaican farmhands out on the western side of the island. I went to Falmouth with my host mom to celebrate my one year anniversary on the island with some other Peace Corps volunteers. When they both returned home, I overheard the comparison of their trips and resultant exposure to "how white people stay." The things that I heard filled my head with questions. I jotted down a few outstanding quotes. "Black people selfish. White people giving." "White people nice and loving, black people a sh*t." "These [white] people don't have money either but they still go out and see the place. White people interesting more than black people. They enjoy life more." "White people treat we better than black people."

Color stereotyping is rampant in Jamaica, especially in the country. Light skin means intelligence, beauty, and success. Darker skin is associated with laziness, ignorance, and crime. Good hair is straight and long. Bad hair is short and curly. Parents tell their children that they are black and ugly. Some men and women use laundry "cake soap" which contains bleach to lighten their skin. Many women weave extensions into their hair or cream their hair to make it straight. African Americans deal with these same issues especially in urban areas, and many sociologists say that these attitudes stem from colonialism and slavery. However, this was different. Adults were justifying their intangible racist ideas with me as a real life example. When I tried to argue that color had nothing to do with it my host mom scoffed and reproachfully told me that black people are worthless. How can someone live forty-four years and think that about themselves?

Children's voices carry the most fundamental ideas of a culture. The children often tell me that I'm not like other adults or teachers. I play with them, give them attention, and don't beat them. To them, those qualities are inextricably linked to the fact that I'm white and have "pretty tall hair." My neighbors and community leaders tell me they need more white people in their country to make it a better place. I find myself wishing I could perm my hair, dye my skin brown, and prove that personal qualities and color are not related. Maybe shaving my head would show the young girls that you don't have to have long hair to be pretty or nice or respectful.

Interestingly, I have encountered the opposite attitude amongst wealthier and better educated Jamaicans. This is a hopeful sign that changes are beginning, but these changes are still nascent in Jamaica.

School Garden Part 2

We've started harvesting! The school has turnips (radish) and green beans at lunch now. Some of the poorer students are allowed to take vegetables home with them. We've raised J$400 by selling turnips at the market to buy some more seeds. This past week we planted watermellon, tomato, and lettuce seeds along with our sweet pepper suckers. The students are excited to see things growing, the farmers are enjoying teaching the students, and I'm happy to see more nutritious lunches being served.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year!

This Christmas was my first Christmas away from home. ::tear:: I won't lie. At first, it was terrible and lonely. I got back from a hiking trip on Christmas Eve to find that everyone in the house had gone to town to do last minute Christmas shopping. I made myself pancakes for dinner and went to sleep at 8. When you go Christmas shopping in Jamaica you don't focus on buying presents for other people. You shop for new sheets, curtains, and paint. Why? Because the Christmas tradition in Jamaica is similar to the spring cleaning tradition in America. I awoke at around 5 AM to the sound of a couch being used as a battering ram against my door. (Not a problem because I had gone to bed so early the night before). Time to empty out the room, mop the floor, and wash the walls. Six hours later we went on a tour of each others rooms OOoing and Ahhing over the new made-in-china sheets and curtain sets. Also, every room got a new set of lacy doilys which matched the curtains and sheet sets for the top of the bureaus. If you see a home decoration that has "old woman's home" written all over it you can be assured that its the apogee of Jamaican interior decorating style. For our community's womens' group gift exchange I made sure to get a faceted pitcher set that my great grandmother would love. Yes, I was upset that instead of spending Christmas morning opening presents I spent it scrubbing the floor. However, the morning of hard work was soon rewarded with Christmas fruit cake, (Much better than American fruit cake: its moist.) sorrel, (a purple drink made from this and ginger) and Christmas wine (always administered with the precaution "Mind yuh drunk yuh know."). The afternoon was spent visiting neighbors, relatives and friends and begging the three aforementioned Christmas delicacies. By evening, you could tell that some of our visitors had visited most of the 116 households in the district.



After Christmas dinner (gungo peas and rice, fried chicken, and salad) I joined some of my community members in the shop out front for a Christmas drink of Dragon Stout, Supligen, and white overproof rum all mixed together. It tastes better than it sounds. We put on "holdies" or old time reggae and started dancing, which, as people who know me know is one of my favorite pastimes. One of my best friends in my community, Fitzroy (farmer, red cross volunteer, genuinely nice person) convinced me to go to a party, which I normally avoid due to incessant sexual harassment, saying he would be my protector. He stayed true to his word and we danced until morning. We visited with friends, watched a machete fight caused by two drunken youths stoning a woman's house, and had a genuinely good time.



The next day was the Christmas tree lighting hosted by the chruch. A Jamaican Christmas tree lighting is basically like a talent show to raise funds for the church. The hostess calls random audience members names. If she calls yours you must sing a song. If you can't sing, you dance. If you can't dance, you pay money. As I entered the church one of my friends warned me, "You know they're going to call your name tonight. You better think about what you are going to sing." He was right. As I walked up to the front of the church, I reached my hand into my pocket to pull out the cash I had stored there after hearning the warning. However, once I got up there I had a sudden burst of courage. I found myself saying, "I'll dance." So, to a standing ovation and a lively reggae beat I started dancing. I think I brought more funds than anyone else that night because they called me up for an encore. The rest of the service was wonderful with candlelight singers, skits, raffling of presents off the tree, and the gift exchange. I got a Spencer's gift style revolving lamp with fish on it. Joy to the World!

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.

Tropical Storm Tomas

Everyone in Jamaica has been listening to the weather with rapt attention for the past week as Tropical Storm Tomas was approaching the island. Peace Corps consolidated the three "most remote" volunteers on the island which, unfortunately, I was one of. Being a volunteer through Peace Corps has many advantages. Complete medical coverage, language training, security and housing support, etc. However, you are also at the beck and call of the Peace Corps. I didn't really have a say on whether I would move from Negril, or on whether I would consolidate.

Luckily, the storm passed over Westphalia with some rain and a slight breeze without damaging anything or anyone. However, we made sure to take all the necessary precautions. I got the call from Peace Corps and packed my bag with all my important papers and possessions. I put all my remaining belongings on my bed, covered them with a tarp, and tied it tightly to the four bed posts. That way, if the roof came off nothing would get wet or fly around the room in the wind. We also made sure to secure the roofs of our houses. Wednesday was spent shoveling rocks into bags, lugging them up the ladder, and placing them around the border of the roof. The sound of hammers echoed all over the community as we happily nailed sheets of zinc over all the windows. Pictures will follow the next time I have access to internet, but I'm heading back up to my community now!

School Garden: A dat wi did wan long time.

GG uses his machete to dig a hole for a schotch bonnet pepper sucker.

The school has talked about starting a garden for a long time. This past week it finally began! Community members brought tools, knowledge, and expertise. The school brought the seed and fertilizer, and the students brought the labor and their questions. So far we've cleared some land, started a compost heap, and planted hot pepper, coco, sweet pepper, plantain, and flowers. We'll use the produce in the school kitchen and if there is left over food we'll send it home with the children that might need it. We've been having a lot of fun even in the rain. I just hope they start listening to my pleading "Please don't run with the machete!!"

Fitzroy shows the students how to protect the sweet pepper nursery from the rain with banana leaves.

Too much information

The view from the school yard yesterday afternoon. This is only half of the rainbow!

I'm still having a wonderful time in Westphalia. I've started learning more about the people who live there: how they act, what they like, and all the familial relations. In some cases, too much. A past principle threatened me with a gun after I wouldn't help him embezzle funds. These are my children but that one was an accident with a prostitute. His mother went to jail for throwing her baby into a pit latrine. I caught those third graders having sex the other day. She stole from him and blamed it on the other guy. My stepfather is trying to sleep with me. Look at his stomach (lifts up his shirt) he just had surgery! That boy steals my crops all the time! I don't know why after seeing me for a month people approach me with all this information. Is it because I'm white? A peace corps volunteer? Would tell these things to any stranger who visits the community? This happened a bit when I was in Negril, but its much more frequent here.

I never really know what to say or how to react. Sometimes I just change the subject. A teacher at the school told me she never acts the information that she hears because she doesn't know it is true. If a child is legitimately confiding in me shouldn't I at least investigate? How would that affect my reputation and my role as a Peace Corps Volunteer? How would I even go about doing anything if there aren't any local authorities in the community? For now I'm listening, forgetting some information, and being as supportive as I can without involving other people.

Smiling faces after eating birthday cake and ice cream.