Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Poverty
Mango Tree
By the end of the day his father was dead; fell from a 70 foot drop while on the job working as a telephone pole repair man. That evening he went back to the mango tree to find the bats picking at the very same mango his father had pointed to, while his mango hung from the tree untouched and still to firm to eat.
He climbed the tree, plucked the unripe mango from the tree and left his fathers mango for the bats to devour in the night. The mango was gone in the morning.
Peanut Brittle
Recipe for Peanut Brittle
(makes 1 ½ lbs)
2 cups white sugar
1 cup light corn syrup
2 cups raw Spanish peanuts
1 cup water
½ tsp salt
2 tbsp butter
2 tsp baking soda
Optional – dash of vanilla
Heat on low and stir sugar, syrup, and water in large saucepan until sugar dissolves. Add salt. Cook over medium heat to soft ball stage (234 degrees). Add peanuts at 250 degrees. Continue to boil until reaches hard crack stage (290 degrees), stirring often. Remove from heat.
Quickly stir in butter and baking soda. Beat to a froth for a few seconds. Pour at once into 2 well buttered 15 ½ x 10 ½ x 1 inch pans, spreading.
Break up when cold
(tip for if you don’t have a candy thermometer: when light amber color and when small amount dropped into ice cold water separates into soft balls, introduce peanuts. 290 – 300 degrees is when small amount dropped into ice cold water separates into hard and brittle threads immediately)
No White Sugar!
Today I went to Bill Jackson’s house along with several fo the other PCVs. Him and his wife work with the peace corps, and they had invited us for Christmas lunch. It was nice to have a truly authentic x-mas dinner. After we feasted I left to run some errands. I was wanting to make some peanut brittle for my local friends, neighbors, and host family and still needed to buy the ingredients. I was able to purchase all but one ingredient at the Super J in Rodney Bay; one of the largest supermarkets where I live. However, one essential ingredient was in shortage, white sugar! I also checked the Super J just north of Rodney Bay, the Super J just south of Rodney Bay at Gablewood, and the Super J in Castries. None of them had sugar. I decided to stop by Mega J on my way home, thinking sugar in bulk is better than no sugar at all. Mega J is the Sams/Casco of St. Lucia, and they were all out of white sugar as well!
In a last attempt, I stopped at the mini-mart in Babonneau, and of course they didn’t have any sugar either. How could this be? Just 3 days ago there was a shortage of brown sugar and white sugar was in abundance, and now it is 2 days before Christmas and I can’t find white sugar anywhere. I asked my neighbor, Cindie; she had no sugar. Cindie called and asked her mom to try the shop next to their business. What do you know; NO WHITE SUGAR!! Just as I was giving up and about to result to using cane sugar as a substitute Cindie suggested walking to her brothers house to see if Prascillia had sugar. YAHOO, his wife had 2lb of white sugar. I had 2lb of brown cane sugar. Walabing walaboom, we made the swap!
Ohhh the woes of being an islander!
Hiking Mt. Gimie
Yesterday I climbed Mount Gimie! Mt. Gimie is the highest peak in St. Lucia! It stands 3,200 ft. tall. We started the climb at 10am. At about 1:00 and just 1 hour to the top I was bear crawling to the top, I was so tired. One hands and feet I slowly ascended stone over stone to the summit. Our hiking party was 13 strong, and I was the 3rd one to arrive to the tope. When I got there, boy was it a sight to see. We had a clear view for about 20 minutes before the clouds and fog covered the peak. I hear you are lucky if you get a view from the top because peak is always covered in clouds. When I got to the top and looked out at the 360 degree view of the island and ocean, all the strain and weariness from climbing for 4 hours faded away in an instant. Incredibly, a rainbow appeared near by where it had been raining. Absolutely beautiful!
We started our dissension at 2:45. Seven of us reached the halfway point by 4:30, where we waited a good while for the 2nd party of 6 to catch up. At 5:15 we became concerned about hiking back in the dark and decided to begin to make our way out, without the other party. We knew they had a couple of flash lights to help assist them. As we were climbing over large boulders, across thin ledges, and using roots to help us climb I began to worry for the safety of the crew that would be trying to follow the 6 inch wide, nearly buried trail back in the dark. The climb isn’t easy; its and advanced trail (rated a 5 on a 1 – 5 difficulty scale established by the forestry department), and should probably only be attempted in the light of the day.
At 7:05 just as the trail is widening out to the road that takes us for our final stretch I received a text message from Wendy in the other crew saying that they just reached the river that marks the half way point! This means they were 2 ½ hours behind us and by now completely in the dark! We reached the trail head by 7:30 and were on Wayne’s bus sleeping by 8:00PM. At this time Wayne called Lynn, who’s hiked the trail 5 times now and had stayed in the 2nd party of hikers. Lynn said they would be out in 1 hour. At 9:00 Lynn says the same thing, “out in an hour.” At 10:00 it’s the same answer, and we are thinking that surely they must have gotten lost. At 11:00 Lynn says the party is just at the part of the trail where it widens to the road for the final stretch. At 11:30 three of the guys, Burt, Gylan and Mervin go back down the trail to try and speed up the party. At midnight Burt came tromping out of the trail with a girl on his back! We had been waiting for 4 hours on the bus for the 2nd party!
One of the girls in the 2nd crew had a very difficult time getting down, and this is what slowed down the party so much. When speaking with her more I found out that she is not an experienced hiker, and she had never gone hiking with our crew before. Now, I thought it was a tough hike for sure, and I did come out with plenty of battle scars (stripes from the razor grass mainly) but we all got to see what the mountain can do to someone who is not a hiker; can be down right debilitating!
Nonetheless, I’d hike it again!!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Why Are We Here?
Anyway, we are not here to help St. Lucians acquire material things. I feel that our place here is in creating the kind of social change and capital that allows St. Lucian youth to thrive, communities to take an active role in addressing community needs, local businesses to succeed in a country influenced by and competing with global corporations, the disenfranchised to have a voice, and the island to become more self sustaining through the development of technologies from within!
I think most PCVs join the Peace Corps expecting to be sent to a destitute place that is experiencing extreme, unmistakable poverty. We don’t expect to have access to cable television and the internet, and we definitely don’t expect to see laptops and flat screens in the market. However, tell me, how many houses have you gone in that have A/C, flat screen TVs, or running water everyday. Very few, you will tell me.
That’s beside the point. Ask, how many children are taught by teachers that lead a student centered classroom? How many kids pass their classes above the 50% mark? How many children are going to school without text books, and how many hang out on the school yard after school because they don’t have supportive families to go home to?
How many parents and teachers beat their children and students because they simply don't know of any alternative methods? How many children have parents show up to their football games? How many parents know how to communicate with their kids about specific health topic like HIV/AIDS and safe sex?
How many people have unfaithful spouses? How many are carrying on in sexual relationships without getting their STIs treated or ever getting tested for HIV/AIDS? How many homes have alcoholic family members? How many households have absentee fathers? How many of the disabled have access to resources, and how many are ever treated fairly? How many people are eating healthy? How many children are drinking alcohol and having sex before the age of 10? How many teenagers are having babies, and how many women get harassed on a daily basis?
The answers to these questions are remarkable and appalling, to say the least. This list may be exhaustive, but sadly I could go on.
This is why we are in St. Lucia!
New Things I Have Learned To Cook
Serves 3
1 cup split peas
1 tbsp oil
3 cups water
1 bay leaf
½ cup finely shredded carrot
1 vegetable or chicken cube
Small bunch of celery
West Indies pepper sauce
3 cloves garlic
Salt and black pepper
1 onion
Add water, peas, celery, onion, oil, bay leaf to pressure cooker; cover and cook 40 min. Allow steam to escape before removing cover. Add garlic, carrots, cube, and seasoning. Cook another 20 minutes or until peas tender adding more water if needed. Mash soup until smooth
Yellow Rice
Serves 3
1 cup rice
1 tbsp oil
1 tbsp butter
1 tsp turmeric
2 cups water
1 cup fresh spinach
Heat oil and butter in large pan over medium heat. Add rice and stir to coat. Add water, salt, and turmeric. Bring to boil then reduce heat to a simmer and cover. Cook 15 minutes. Uncover and stir in spinach. Cover and cook another 10 minutes or until rice tender. Add water as needed.
'Why Try?' Meeting
Today I had my first parent meeting for ‘Why Try?’ We were expecting 25-30 of the parents to show up. We sent out letters about the meeting, and even made a personal call to most of the parents. I was not able to reach all of the parents, but I did get 25 confirmations. Of the 25 that confirmed only 10 showed up. Not one single unreached parent attended the meeting. This was a huge disappointment. We are involving the students in a program that each student has expressed interest in. We sent a letter home explaining the importance of the program; to help their at-rick children develop various life skills. Its deplorable that over half of the parents didn’t show up to support their kids! Unfortunately, we must have a signed permission slip for each kid and some kids wont get to attend because their parents will remain unreachable. No wonder, some of them are struggling.
Always Waiting
I’m sitting on my coach passing the time by watching Tempo, the music video TV station. I am waiting (I do a lot of that here) for my IPP to call me. She gives me a ride to work some mornings. This morning we were supposed to leave at 7:15, but there is no telling what time we will actually roll out. My guess is 8:00. As I have mentioned before, this course of events is quite typical; that is, any and all events start significantly later than scheduled! Any mention of its frequency is always met with the typical explanation, “Ye, Caribbean time gasa!” Gasa is just another slang for ‘man’ ‘dude’ ‘brother’… ye get da idea, gasa?
Despite my knowing that everything happens on ‘Caribbean time’ I can’t help but be ready or show up on time for everything! It seems as though American society has successfully imbedded a since of punctuality in me that leaves me feeling guilty any time I am late. Additionally, I fear the classic situation; which would be choosing to show up to an event one day 30 minutes later than scheduled simply to find everyone already there, waiting on me, and wondering why I would be late to such a significant affair.
You might mention to me, “Well, just don’t be late for a significant event,” and I would tell you, “What’s insignificant; debriefing the student body about a students recent death, a mandatory parental training workshop held for all school counselors, my IPPs wedding, or an HIV/AIDS walk that is due to begin promptly at 9:00?” All of these events seem significant enough to imbue a sense of promptness, but each one of them started an hour late! Participants are always left waiting, and I always show up on time for the waiting.
7:55 and still waiting for the car.
Oh, and did I mention, we are scheduled to attend a youth summit today, but first we must drive 15 minutes to school, attend an assembly, pick up a couple of kids that will be going to the summit, and drive another 15 minutes to the summit location. The summit is scheduled for 8:00!
(Car didn’t arrive until 8:15 this day)
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Men As Partners in St. Lucia
On the last day of the workshop all the participants met with their island groups. There were 4 - 5 participants from each of the 5 Caribbean islands that were present, one Peace Corps Volunteer, the island APCD, and 2 - 3 locals involved in HIV/AIDS work. Our task is to put together an initiative that will involve more men in HIV/AIDS prevention on our island. My group, made up of me, Sharmon (APCD), and a man and woman from NAPS (National Aids Programming Secretariat) want to host a workshop for men who are fathers and create an ongoing dialogue around gender issues, sexuality, and HIV/AIDS. Our hope is to sensitize more men to the deeper issues that have the Caribbean be the 2nd hottest spot in the world for the spread of HIV/AIDS. We want men to be empowered to change their behavior, and we want fathers to be knowledgeable enough on these issues so that they can communicate openly with their sons about the said issues. YEY!!
S'more S'mores Please
(Journal Entry from December 2nd, 2008)
I went camping this past weekend in Louvert. In the morning we explored the beach, opened coconuts and I tried to climb the coconut tree.... or I tried to climb the coconut tree. In the afternoon we hiked to a waterfall. Carol and I got to the top of the waterfall that stood about 75 feet tall. Every time I visit a new waterfall I can't resist making my way to the top of it, because you never know what you will find. At the top of this particular waterfall there was another 15 foot waterfall and a swimming hole. Of course, we took a dip in the pool of water but had to get out soon there after, because the Minos wouldn't stop nipping at our ankles! After cooling out by the waterfalls for some time we hiked to Dennery where our bus picked us up to take us back to Castries. If you check out a map of St. Lucia you will have an idea of how far we had to hike... many many miles.
OH yes, the night we camped in Louvert we tried to make a fire. At first, everyone wanted to just go straight to sleep, as we didn't find our camping sight until 2AM. I told them I wanted to teach them how to make s'mores, but every single one of my St. Lucian camping buddies had either never heard of a s'more before or had never had one before; so the word "s'more" didn't excite them in the way I thought it would. However, all I had to say was "chocolate and marshmallows" and the fellas were up and searching for fire wood. I was excited to introduce the wonderfully delicious ooey and gooey St. Lucian S'more to everyone. I sat "St. Lucian S'more" because I did have to modify the ingredients a bit. Since you can't by Graham Crackers in St. Lucia I had to substitute the Graham Crackers with Hob-Nobs, a circular sweat cracker that they make here. Unfortunately the wind was too strong and the wood to wet to get a good fire going and no s'mores were made. I did learn a fire starting technique though. Dried coconut husk is the best base you could ever have for a fire!
Monday, December 8, 2008
No One’s Getting Thinner at Thanksgiving Dinner
Today is both Thanksgiving and the three month anniversary of our arrival in St. Lucia! Thanksgiving was wonderful! It was my first thanksgiving away from home and I was feeling rather apprehensive about it. Quite honestly, I expected the day to be a little dull without all the hustle and bustle, the decorations, thanksgiving traditions like decorating the tree after dinner, fighting over the wish bone, no family, Stacy, or other friends brought home for the great feast, etc. However, while the tradition of having some of my international friends over for thanksgiving was broken for my family, being in another country has allowed me to uphold the tradition. Anyway, I thought the day would be a little dull, and it wasn’t feeling a lot like Thanksgiving when I woke up in the morning. I thought staying up all night trying to perfect the recipe of a home made key lime pie would get me in the spirit, but when I woke up it still felt like just another day.
We decided to have a big Thanksgiving feast at Mary-Ellen’s house. She is a volunteer in Dennery, a cute little village on the Atlantic coast. About 30 of us brought different Thanksgiving dishes to complete the feast. We had three 12lb turkeys, stuffing, gravey, cranbarries, potatoes, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, spinach casserole, salad, mixed vegetables, potato salad, corn, cream corn, rolls, Caribbean rolls, tortillas with a bean, pepper and corn mixture, pasta, cranberry orange bread, brownies, pumpkin pie, apple pie, key lime pie, cookies, raspberry cream cheese spread, carrot cake, chocolate cake, cup cakes that looked like little hats, fudge and more. AND, we ate it ALL! Everyone chatted, had a good time, and some watched the Macey’s day parade. And let me tell you, by the end of all that food it felt unmistakably like Thanksgiving!
Oh and as a side note for the family, funny thing how I really cared about helping set everything up and cleaning when it was all done. Even though I might always run away from cleaning duties after dinner at home, I have obviously been taught well, haha. Mama, you would be proud… though I was a little sorry to not have a Bridget on hand!
Friday, November 21, 2008
Making My Mark
Today a 15-year-old boy told me he lives on his own. His mom is dead and his 75-year-old father is living on a ventilator in the hospital. He has an older brother and sister in their 20s. His brother is his main support but the school discourages his involvement because he is a Rastafarian and a drug dealer. The boy will be starting in my Why Try Program next term. Cases like his exist all over St. Lucia and St. Lucia has no way of helping these kids. There is 1 boys home but it’s exclusively for boys who have committed criminal acts. So, does my boy have to commit a crime in order to get a meal? Unfortunately I hear that this is exactly what is happening with many young, unsupported boys. There isn’t a viable foster care program in St. Lucia and there is no homeless shelter for these kids. It’s a tragedy, for true! Today I was able to get this boy free breakfast and lunch for the rest of the term on the schools expense. His story is a sad one, and my heart breaks even more when I see the school staff and teachers relating to him only as a ‘troublesome child.’ It is clear that this culture has just barely begun the exploration of child development and human psychology.
As the days go by my place and purpose here become more concrete. Clearly, one contribution I have to offer is to model effective communication with youth and especially at-risk youth, and to help mobilize some of the groups and create systematic procedures that help to maintain the sustainability of the groups. Hopefully, I can help the counselor to get some of the at-risk youth involved in more groups, clubs and community activities.
I’m White and I’m the Only One That Notices
When you are having fun and feeling at ease you realize that being uncomfortable with the color difference was only confused with the discomfort of being in a totally new and unfamiliar environment. Perhaps the preoccupation with it is born out of a deep seeded historical socialization that’s conditioned us to have regard for color differences. In St. Lucia, being concerned that a color difference might be creating a barrier that sets one apart is needless and a waste of energy. It unnecessarily exasperates the discomfort of being in a new and unfamiliar culture. The truth of the matter is that St. Lucians don’t carry the same degree of race discrimination that we historically have and currently do in America. You will see that the treatment of minorities (in this case whites) in St. Lucia is to be envied and set as a standard to model.
Once I cool out and stop worrying that my race may set me apart I realize that I am the only one taking notice of the fact that I am white. Yeah, you might be mistaken for a tourist every once in a while and offered a taxi or asked if you need assistance making your way around the island, but people relate to you as any other ordinary human being. They like to get to know you, and in their eyes they just have a darker tan. No difference is seen between whites and blacks by St. Lucians. From their point of view the only important difference in being black or white is that they rarely need to worry about burning in the sun. Yeah, a Lucian friend might warn you every once in a while to put on more sunscreen when you are getting red in the hot Caribbean sun. Of course, this might be followed by friendly banter of calling you a lobster and noting their own luck of not having to worry so much about the sun… lucky them!
Hiking up La Sorciere’s Mountain (Hiking up The Sorcerer’s Mountain)
Sunday we went hiking. It was a 9 hour day! First we hiked from Babonnaue to the base of La Sorciere (pronounced ‘La So-see-e). La Sorciere is a 2,200 ft. mountain, effectively the 4th highest peak in St. Lucia; preceded first by Petit Piton, the third highest point, towering at 2,461 ft., then Gros Piton the second highest at 2,640 ft., and finally, Mt. Gime wins the prize for 1st place, standing tall at 3,117 ft. Anyway, back to my story…
We hiked up La Sorciere, all the while sharing and making up stories about the mountain. One of the guys told of the ancient myth of how La Sorciere got her name. It is simple; no man that hikes up the mountain ever returns, because The Sorcerer puts a hex on him.
Obviously, we busted that myth!
After cutting our own trail to the top of the mountain we made our way down and set out walking to Louvert. Louvert is an abandoned beach town in the district of Dennery that rests at the edge of the Atlantic Ocean. It is a sight to see!
Beauty!
Before arriving to Louvert I was kicking myself for forgetting my swimsuit. Lynn tried telling me not to worry, that the waters were much too rough to swim in. Naturally, being the stubborn adventurer that I am I wrote him off, smirking and expecting to just swim in the pair of athletic shorts and t-shirt that I brought along. I mean, what would a St. Lucian that has lived here his whole life, hiked all over the island, and visited the Louvert beach multiple times know anyway? Geez!
Let me tell you; part of the astounding beauty of Louvert is its powerful waters.
The beach is nestled in a small cove. To one side is a sandy beach lined with coconut trees that bends away out of sight, its posterior only to be seen from the top of the cliffs and cave that border the northern side of the cove. Standing on the cliff’s edge, which juts far into the Atlantic, look to your right. It’s grander than picture perfect; La Sorciere in the background covered in mist; an expanse of trees filling the divide between you and her; and a river that zigzags its way down from the mountain flows into the cove, hidden at every switchback by the lush forestry. As you look up the river from the cove your eyes yearn to follow it farther than the tree line allows, as it turns away out of sight just up stream.
Look to your Left. The ominous ocean waves roar as they continuously pound the rocks. You would think you were in the deep see at the time of a tropical storm; current strong and forceful; its rhythm unpredictable. Except, you are not… You are on the beach, feeling only a light breeze and occasional sprinkle. The ocean seems to have a life of her own and her untamed waves threaten to engulf all that trespass beyond the sandy boundary. In an instant her power and beauty overwhelm you and engender within your spirit a deep respect for her commanding authority.
When the sun made its descent, we were chased away by the quickly approaching darkness and began our 2 ½ hour walk back to Babonnaue. Eventually the night caught up to us with an hour of walking still ahead of us. Prospere was in a rush. He worried me with stories of wild pigs… the only pigs we saw were in large sties that reeked of deprecations as we passed by. My guess is those piggies will be served for Christmas.
Eventually the spooky trail taking us back to the main road came to its head and we reemerged from yet another adventure with memories only to be shared by a precious 9 other individuals. And I mustn’t forget the challenge of crossing a river during the pitch black night on sporadically placed stepping stones. We attempted to hop from stone to stone one at a time. The only light to guide us was one small flashlight that we held for each other to direct one another’s next leap!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Rainforest Adventures
10:00 - bus driver drops us on trail in Laborie with word to pick us up in Soufriere at 4pm
10:30 - Jules starts complaining "where is the waterfall?"
10:45 - We stop to pick five-finger fruit from star fruit tree
11:00 - Jules, "where is the waterfall?"
11:15 - Jules decides to change from flip-flops to hiking boats
11:30 - We reach the waterfall and take pictures
11:45 - We eat lunch at waterfall
12:00 - Carol and I decide to hike to top of waterfall
12:15 - We make it to top and take pictures; Ashley and Carol spot Haley changing into her swim suit in a not so secluded hiding spot down below
12:30 - we climb back down the ledge of the waterfall
12:45 - I go to change into swimsuit in Haley's predetermined not so secluded hiding spot
1:15 - I finish swimming and we prepare to find France Jacques hiking trail
2:00 - we are well off trail heading in what Lenn think to be the right direction; Lenn checks his compass
2:15 - Lenin tries his GPS... no signal; Lenn checks his compass; we keep walking
2:30 - Lenn checks his compass; Lenn decides he thinks we are lost; we change course and keep walking
2:45 - We are definitely LOST; It starts pouring down rain. Lenn checks his compass; we keep walking
3:00 - Jules and Lenn consult compass and topographical map together and try to decide if we should retrace our steps; we keep walking.
3:10 - We stop; Lenn and Jules go off on their own, due to report back in 10 min.
3:15 - ...
3:20 - ...
3:25 - .... "WHOOP WHOOP" I shout. Lenin whistles.... .... ....
3:30 - Jules and Lenn return, they found the trail!
3:35 - We are uncertain we are on the right trail; Lenin's GPS has signal... it shows we are in Venezuela
3:45 - signs of civilization; we meet a Rasta that tells us we are on a back trail but headed the right way.
3:55 - trail opens up and we have arrived in Frances Jacques! Bus is there waiting for us!!
4:30 - sleeping on the bus
5:30 - dropped off at home
5:35 - turn on shower... NO WATER!!!!!!!
6:00 - NO WATER
6:30 - I take a bucket bath!
It was a very eventful day! We all had a blast. I will be hiking with this group most Sundays, yea!!!
Other things going on:
learning to live without the internet in my home
coming to love Babonnaue
starting projects at schools
getting golden apples out of really high trees with a long stick and with the help of Cindy
Losing water all the time and taking bucket baths
adjusting to the fact that nothing here starts on time
making bakes with my neighbor, Cindy
teaching my neighbor Acquila's daughter, Jeniqua how to make shadow puppets
teaching Jamal, Cindy's 1-year-old son how to give a high five!
paying my way to high St. Lucian phone bill!
surviving the mosquitoes
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
OBAMA! OBAMA! OBAMA!
Last night was election night in America! St. Lucians have a tremendous amount of support for President Elect Barack Obama. There is even a Caribbean island Barrack Obama song that is played on the radio here, produced by a local artist. I’m trying to get a copy to send you guys. The Embassy invited us to a watch party in Castries last night and that is where I found myself at 7pm last night, my time. There were so many people there and it was so loud that some of us decided to leave and I ended up watching the results come through at Haley’s house. St. Lucians were hosting watch parties all over the island. When Obama was announced as the President Elect St. Lucians celebrated along with America. The streets were loud; people were shouting and toasting the occasion. It’s incredible how much interest the locals have in the election. Right now, as I type there’s a man and woman sitting behind me, both St. Lucian. They are speaking about how they loved Obama’s speech. One man is talking about how he was afraid Obama would get assassinated during his speech! St. Lucians, were watching along with us, and along with many other nations. In moments, Obama and the American people took a major step in repairing our image around the globe.
I tell you; last night I became a proud American, for true.
OH, that’s Why Everyone Walks Around With a Machete
(Journal Entry from Monday October 27th, 2008)
So, I just spent the past 30 minutes cutting 1 pea size hole into each of 3 different coconuts. I was determined to get the coconut milk! The last coconut is still draining in this moment… its been about 5 minutes… gives you an idea of how big, or should I say how small the hole ended up being.
When my landlord, Mr. Bailey gave me the coconuts followed by a remark of “careful not to cut yourself” I just smirked. I didn’t know if the remark was a sexist one or not; oops, sorry Mr. Bailey. Ooh, my coconut just finished draining!
Anyhow; the whole coconut fiasco started at about 8 o’clock this morning when I went to greet my landlord with a ‘bonjou.’ He was just gathering some coconuts onto the driveway. Don’t ask me how he got them out of the 15 foot tall tree. He did say once that he used to climb the trees, but certainly he can’t do it anymore! Anyhow, he asked if I wanted some of the coconuts and I graciously accepted the offer. He started slicing the skin off of about half of the coconut with a machete. He did this with 3 of the coconuts and it looked simple enough. However, he did cut too deep into one of the coconuts and all of the milk poured out onto the driveway! He offered me the 3 sliced coconuts and told me to just cut a whole into them when I was ready to get the milk, and “oh” he says, “be careful not to cut yourself.” I put the coconuts in my refrigerator and am just revisiting them now.
3 coconuts filled up one small glass pitcher. I decided to put the empty shells back in my refrigerator to ask Mr. Bailey what I should do with them. I know that on the inside they have a nice coconut lining that I can’t figure out how to get to. I think I might need to borrow his machete… and some advice for how to poke a hole into a coconut!
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Potential Projects
1. Liaise between organization that offers SAT prep courses and teachers at secondary school to train teachers to provide SAT prep to student athlete and other students.
2. Develop a Healthy Intimate Relationships course with guidance counselors for students at the secondary level.
3. Implement the Why Try program with at-risk youth at the secondary school level.
4. Partner with another volunteer to do an HIV sculpture project in the schools that increases awareness and reduces stigma of HIV.
5. Help develop a Peer Health Advisors program.
6. Create a Girl Guides group in my community
1st World Media Brainwashes 3rd World Nations
I really just don’t know what to document anymore about me experience as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Just about everyday is novel, but novelty is so common that it seems trivial and unimportant to speak of it. Newness is the norm in my life to the extent that things seem just the same. The other day I found myself at a house across the street from the Pastoral Center in the town of Marisule’s East Winds. The Pastoral Center is where we spent our first 3 days in St. Lucia. Strangely, when I saw it I didn’t recognize it, even in the least. I suppose this is because the context was different and my perceptive lens has changed. I could swear when we first arrived on island and drove to the Center the road and view were different. The road was smaller and more rugged than what it is now. The view was more expansive and foreign. Now, the road seems normal and the view familiar. My Lucian lenses are becoming clearer.
I find myself wondering what it would be like to never have seen roads the size of airport landing strips, roads that pass over one another in the sky and building that reach the clouds. It must be wondrous to see those things on TV. It is even beginning to amaze me. What is it like to never have seen snow or hail, to no know what it is like to have mail delivered to your front door? What is it like to be astonished that there exists a place in the world where all the children own lap tops and IPods? A place where all adults have their drivers license and cars. It is beginning to seem extraordinary even to me.
My friend asked me today about clubs in Texas. I had to correct him and assure him that ‘No, all the clubs are not like Girls Gone Wild’. He thought the club scene would be one of girls running around topless and guys having sex with them on the dance floor. I was astonished that I was being asked this in all seriousness. Then I realized, this is what they get to see on TV commercials, which leads me to another topic.
Currently, I am living in a third world nation which has access to the media and technological merchandise of the industrial first world nations. Through cable television and advertising St. Lucians are exposed to the luxuries that Americans have access to, e.g., more fast-food chains than you can name, IPods, IPhones, fashion, accessories, fancy cars, large universities, pools, Wal-Mart, enormous ball stadiums, high rises, restaurants, new shoes, boats, spas, etc, etc, etc. What do you think exposure to this media does to the ‘have nots’? Well, the same thing it does in American culture; it develops an appetite. The local markets are no longer satisfactory and the people hunger. People find themselves wanting the McDonalds, Wendys, chain restaurants, Wal-Marts, and more merchandise. They welcome the large corporations. They bring jobs and wealth they say. They don’t see how these things drown out the local markets, breed consumerism, promote materialism, increase dependence, and depersonalize society. Why don’t we show that in our media? The constant exposure to the advertisements of large businesses in the states sadly makes them want those businesses to come to St. Lucia. I wish that instead, Lucians would be driven to develop technology and projects here so that their labor won’t be exploited later by American business owners.
I don’t know, it’s just my initial thoughts and logging of the subject and I need to reflect on the topic more at a later date.
PC Policy Gets in the Way; Sorry Rasta.
I spoke with a Rasta today. I was at a birthday party with my host mom and he was sitting by himself. He was one of the birthday woman’s 10 children. I told him that I wanted to learn more about Rastafarianism from a real Rasta rather than just go on what I have read on the internet or through word of mouth. He said there are many different movements but the main thing with all of them is that they don’t judge people based on color or way of life, that we are all part of the human race. I asked him why Rastas are vegetarians and he said that it is because we are all animals and we should respect life. I didn’t quite understand why he thinks eating fish is okay though. He was not too eager to talk about his religion to be honest with you. He told me that it would be best for him if I just asked specific questions rather than just ask him to tell me a bit about his religion. It was an odd conversation.
Talking with him got me thinking about some of the youth development goals of St. Lucia and how some of PC’s policies and procedures make it difficult to satisfy some of the goals of St. Lucia’s youth development efforts. In some of our youth development training sessions we discussed the importance of trying to reach both the attached youth (those that are reachable through various schools and organizations) and the unattached youth (those more difficult to reach because they are not attached through schools, work, or organizations). FYI: Youth is defined as anyone between the ages of 7 and 35. Now, it occurred to me that a large majority of the unattached youth are Rastafarians. This is because many Rastas are against working for ‘the system’. They make their own way and live off the land. Many of them live in poverty and with this comes the pitfalls of poverty; lack of education, and resources, increased drug addiction and crime, and deterioration in health. Of course we would want to reach the unattached youth.
However, there are many obstacles to reaching the unattached youth. The inherent ones, to mention a few are, their lack of interest, lack of availability, lack of visibility, and the ‘systems’ lack of connection with the unattached youth. As if these things aren’t enough, PC policy adds another barrier. Any PC volunteer that ‘appears to be associated’ with anyone who does drugs, including marijuana, will be sent on the next plane home. This policy in and of itself seems to be a good policy and the reasons for it are obvious, however, the policy, unfortunately and unintentionally creates a potential barrier for PC volunteers who want to help St. Lucia to reach the unattached youth. Working with the unattached youth may mean making connections and building relationships with some people that are more likely than the attached youth to be involved in drug activity, in most cases the activity is only smoking of marijuana. This would risk damaging the PCVs image in the community by being associated with Rastas and risk being sent home. Does this mean I should not be part of the initiative to reach the unattached youth? Regretfully it is decidedly so.
Tedious Training
PC training only has one week left, WOOHOO!!!
My gosh! It’s been excruciating to sit in the training room for hours on end every week. Surely, training has got to be the hardest part. It doesn’t require a lot of brain power, but it requires insurmountable quantities of patience and tolerance. Usually 10% of PCVs drop out of the PC before every being sworn in and now I understand why. It isn’t because they are homesick or incapable of doing the work. More than once in the past 6 weeks of training I felt like calling it quits because of the ridiculous dog and pony show. Some of the PCVs in the past may not be willing to put on their clown face for seven weeks, but our group has persevered and broken a PC record; not a single person in our Eastern Caribbean group has gone home yet. We must be a tough group!
When it Rains it Pours!!
Yesterday, the tropical wave hit. I am still uncertain as to what exactly a tropical wave is, but the symptoms so far seem to be rain, rain, and more rain. I don’t think it has stopped raining once since yesterday. The degree to which it is raining has oscillated between a soft mist and torrential downpour, but the rain is relentless. I speculate that a wave is a series of storms that are too unorganized to be considered a tropical depression. Nonetheless, the ‘wave’ has caused quite a commotion.
Highlights:
Mrs. B gets a call from our neighbor. Mrs. B excitedly tells me that the river that runs parallel to the road, just 100 yards away is overflowing, and the water is at our neighbor’s doorsteps!!
Mrs. B and I run to the veranda to find the water creeping halfway up our driveway!
I grab my camera to capture pictures of the dude across the way wading waist deep in water!
I run outside to find tons of people lining the streets holding their umbrellas watching the street too flooded for traffic to get through!
Even when the water recedes the people remain watching in amazement as a steady flow of traffic passes through the neighborhood; more traffic than any of us have ever seen come through the neighborhood!
Talk on the street is that the traffic came from the friends and families in surrounding areas that were phoned and wanted to see the flooding! OH MY!!
Monday, October 20, 2008
Experience This Moment With Me
Sometimes it is hard to process my experience here. I wish I had a video camera on my shoulder to take with me everywhere I go. Then you would get to soak in all the sights and sounds along with me. So, let me try to capture for you my experience in this moment.
I close my eyes. I hear the soft beat of some Soca tunes cascading from up the road, a baby’s cries pierce through the open windows of my neighbor’s house, and the rumbling of rocks crunching under the wheels of passing cars, trucks and buses. I hear a friendly 'beep beep' between two cars that are familiar with one another, and the occasional sliding of minibus doors as passengers find their stop. There are construction workers hammering down the road, birds chirping, roosters crowing, dogs barking and the usual hissing sound men make as they watch a pretty lady walk by.
I open my eyes. I see a couple chatting on the veranda across the way, lines of laundry hang in the afternoon sun, and my neighbor is sweeping out her house with a broom made from palm leaves. The mango, guava and banana trees rustle in the cool breeze, a young boy runs through the street barefoot, and a couple of stray dogs rummage through the litter on the street for something to satisfy their hunger. I see a mountainous landscape covered in lush greenery, dotted with lovely houses that are raised on stilts. Then there is the sky; oh the clouds. Everyday I make it a point to watch the sky. It is extraordinary to always see in the sky so many different types of clouds, of all different sizes, and at different altitudes. As I look up I see the three main types of clouds, the Cirrus, the high-level wispy looking clouds; the Cumulus, the mid-level puffy heap clouds; and the Stratus, the low-level gray clouds with breaks of clear sky in them. There are also all different combinations of these three main types, and I don’t know their names, but it is a sight to see. It is truly beautiful. This doesn’t happen in the sky back home. Finally, every once in a while I see Rasta’s gallop down the street riding their horses bareback, though not at this moment.
Then there are the smells. The flavorful scent of the breadfruit, veggie, beef stew that my host mom is making drifts to the porch from inside the house, and occasional a catch a scent of the marijuana smoke that wafts from a few of the near by houses.
Just an Aside on American Politics
For the past week I have been watching the CNN and BBC coverage of America's financial crisis. I saw the news of major banks and creditors failing, watched as congress purposed a 700 billion dollar bail out bill, and watched as that bill was voted against in the House. If I, a well educated woman am left confused and uncertain, I can't imagine what must be going through the minds of the average American... fear.
It makes since to me that we cannot live on credit forever, eventually debts must be repaid. If banks lend money to millions of people that can't afford the debt, they risk inability to repay their major lenders and financial partners. I am not surprised in even the mildest sense of the word that this is happening. I only don't understand why this is the moment; what straw broke the camels back? Perhaps the answer to 'why now?' is insignificant. Americans spend beyond their means and eventually we will reap what we sow. This is not only the fault of the large corporations that okay bad mortgages and market their products in seductive ways. We as a people are responsible for entertaining our appetites. We are obese, not just in weight but in mind. However, having an understanding of this alone is not enough. We must also understand and come to accept that when we stop our glutenous consuming the engine will slow down. Retailers will down size, some will even go out of business. The immediate result will be a loss of jobs and it is inevitable. Pumping money into the machine will be worse. They say it will prolong the inevitable, but my main concern is that it doesn't confront the underscoring problem and work to change the mentality of overspending that got us here. It works to encourage the gluttony. Rather, we need to promote individual and corporate financial responsibility. Yes, America, let's band-aid the problem once again.
We need to focus on the real problem, but does anyone know how to begin to tackle the real problem? The obvious answer is to suck it up, and start living within your means. If you need a credit card to buy it then don't buy it. Save! When people gamble with their money, they take a risk. It is not the governments job to replace the money you gamble away. Now I wont pretend to have all the answers, but I know that some things are certain... Most Americans live beyond their means and this excels the problem at hand. I wish that we would stop spending our energy on acquiring the latest and greatest Ipod and start spending our energy on expanding prosperity on a community level. I feel for all the people that will lose their jobs and homes through this financial awakening. It is a tragedy. We need to work as a people to make responsible and economical decisions and also work to instill compassion, charity, and neighborliness in America and in the world.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Caribbean Cinema – Uncanny, to say the least
Haley walked over to the Cinema to check the time; the movie would be starting at 7:30. When it was a quarter after seven the four of us (Me, Lois, Haley, and Scott) walked from the coffee house to the Cinema to buy our tickets (It was a Tuesday so we expected a sell out was not an issue). As I walked up to the glass enclosed podium that I would soon be purchasing my ticket at I noticed the large movie posters on the exterior walls. They were incased in glass; the rim dotted with a trail of white lights. Nevertheless, I walked up to the ticket booth that jutted out of the wall, cinema entry doors on either side. I said to the woman behind the enclosed counter, “One for Tropical Thunder, please.” She typed something into her computer screen, a ticket came out of the top of the counter and she tore it away from the ticket role before sliding it to me under the ticket window.
After we all got our tickets we proceeded to enter the building. I decided that I wanted popcorn but standing between us and the concession stand that lined the back wall was another ticket booth. I walked up to the man standing at the small box like podium and handed him my ticket. He ripped the ticket in half along its perforated line and said, “Theater 6 on your left.” I then approached the concession stand. There were large neon signs on the wall behind the stand displaying the price of all the items. I decided to buy a medium popcorn that would be dispensed from a large popper behind the counter. I decided not to buy candy or a fountain drink. The candy was being displayed below the counter top in a glass case that was part of the entire counter. I asked for extra salt; they had the yummy orange kind.
Next we headed toward the left, theater 6. Before going up the hall that held theaters 4 – 8 they checked to make sure we had tickets at yet another ticket stand. We opened the doors to the theatre, walked up the hall and turned to see that we were now at the bottom of a stadium of seats. We walked up the white light beaded stairs and situated ourselves somewhere in the middle of the theatre. At 7:30 the lights dimmed and there were a series of advertisements on the screen. At about 7:45 the Caribbean Cinema trailer played (it was much like the Cinemark theater trailer), after which the movie began. About 30 minutes into the movie I realized that I was freezing and should have brought a sweater.
After the movie was over we exited the theater, throwing our empty popcorn bags into the trash bins at the door of theater 6. Before leaving the Cinema I needed to use the restroom. I went in, did my business, and as I stood to button my pants the toilet flushed automatically. I went to rinse my hands and when I went to dry them it was under an automatic hand dryer. I walked out of the bathroom reflecting on what I had just experienced in complete amazement. I half expected to exit the Cinema, jump in my car and drive home. However, when I opened the exterior doors of the Caribbean Cinema I was greeted once again with warm moist air, and my vision was flooded with the deep greens of the lush environment that surrounded me. I took a moment and said, “Well, hello
Footnote: the theater does not have butter dispensers where you can add butter to your popcorn; OH MY!
Friday, September 19, 2008
Understanding Culture Conflicts with Personal Values and Ethics
As the paper circled the room I dreaded the moment it would reach me. How was I to respond to the question every student was being asked; “what letter do you see?” The student whose ‘D’s’ looked like 'A’s' sat in the corner of the room with an expression of absolute mortification. “What letter do you see?” asks the teacher standing at the front of the room. The student sitting directly in front of me responds, “An A.” He hands me the paper. I am sitting at the end of the second row of students. Every student prior to me gave the teacher the answer he wanted to hear, "An A sir." I looked at Danielle’s name. Her ‘D’ looks half A half D. The unavoidable moment comes, “Ms. Ray, what letter do you see?” I hesitate, thoughts racing to figure out a way to break the perpetuation of this destructive lesson. I am suddenly very aware of my delicate position… a social change agent whose primary focus currently is on developing rapport in a new school I know very little about and that knows very little about me. I feel caught in the middle of ethics and image. I blurt out an unsatisfactory compromise, “it looks like an attempt at a D.” The teacher looks stunned for an instant before laughing and saying to the student, “it’s an A, an A, and from now on in my class your name is Aanielle.” I sit down kicking myself for my pathetic response. I wish I had responded more constructively... “I have seen Ds like that before” or “great penmanship but you might want to make your Ds a little more rounded.
This scene illustrates only one of the many sticky situations that volunteers find themselves in. I met this teacher last Tuesday. Before class we hung out and he seemed like a cool guy. When his students entered the class room he appeared to have good rapport with them. I could tell the students regarded him as the ‘cool teacher’; the teacher whose classroom became a hang out spot. He could definitely relate to his students on an admirable level. However, some of his methods were questionable. In addition to the already stated scene of humiliation, I also witness this same student being spanked with a 3 inch in diameter stick. After responding “I don’t know” to a question the teacher had her bend over a chair at the front of the class, then proceeded to spank her three times, just hard enough to sting. I sat in my chair at the back of the room in horror as I watched the spanking take place, watched the girl begin to sob, and I said nothing. I knew that challenging the teacher right then and there would black ball me immediately. It would disrupt the rapport I was building with the school. I had to keep reminding myself that how the school views me will greatly affect their acceptance of the proposed changes that I bring to the table over the next two years. I now realize that I could have used the experience to educate the teacher, without challenging him. In the future I could inquire about his methods. I could discuss alternative teaching methods and their effectiveness. However, at the time I only sat there in shock.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
More Patois
| I, Me, Mine, My | Mwen |
| You, Your, Yours | ou |
| He, She, Her, Him, It, Its | li (i) |
| We, Us, Out, Ours | nou |
| Y'all, Y'alls | zot |
| They, Them, Their, Theirs | yo |
| parot | jako |
| elephant | lefan |
| behind | deye |
| hat | chapo |
| which | kiles |
| gun | fizi |
| shirt | chimiz |
| books | liv |
| shoes | soulye |
| dog | chyen |
| cat | chat |
| and | ek |
| many | plizye |
| have | ni |
| name | non |
| want | vle |
| any | pyes |
| mistress | jabal |
| good | bon |
| where | kote |
| table | tab |
| on | asou/anle |
| step-mother | belme |
| step-father | bope |
| today | jodia |
| gift | kado |
| to be | sa |
| welcome | byen vini |
| life | lavi |
| well | byen |
| clothes | wad/had |
| say | ka di |
| also | osi |
| how much is this | come sa |
| you're welcome (its nothing) | sa pa anyen |
| where is the book | kote liv-la |
| its on the table | I asou tab-la |
| what did you do today? | ki sa ou fe jodia |
| how do you say… | koumannye ou ka di… |
| life is good | lavi bon |
| how are you | kouman ou ye |
| im well | mwen byen |
| numbers - Limewo: | |
| yonn | |
| de | |
| twa | |
| kat | |
| senk | |
| sis | |
| set | |
| nef | |
| dis | |
| wonz | |
| douz | |
| twez | |
| katoz | |
| kenz | |
| sez | |
| diset | |
| diswit | |
| diznef | |
| ven | |
| ventenyen | |
| vennde | |
| venntwa | |
| venkat | |
| vensenk | |
| vennsis | |
| vennset | |
| ventwit | |
| ventnef | |
| twant | |
| twantenyen | |
| twant de | |
| twanttwa | |
| twantkat… | |
| kawant | |
| kawantenyen | |
| kawantde… | |
| senkant | |
| senkantenyen | |
| senkantde… | |
| swasant dis | |
| swansant wonz | |
| swansant de… | |
| katwiven | |
| katwiven dis | |
| yon san | |
| 1000 yon mil | |
| 10000 dis mil | |
| 100 000 yon san mil | |
| 1 000 000 yon milyon | |
| months - Mwa: | |
| Janvye | |
| Fevwiye | |
| Mas | |
| Avwi | |
| Me | |
| Jen | |
| Jwiye | |
| Awou | |
| Septanm | |
| Oktob | |
| Novanm | |
| Desanm | |
| Days of the week - Jou Lasimenn: | |
| Dimanch | |
| Lendi | |
| Madi | |
| Mekwedi | |
| Jedi | |
| Vandwedi | |
| Sanmdi | |
| How old are you (what is your age) | ki laj ou |
| I am 24-years-old | mwen ne vennkatzan |
| year | lanne |
| year (when speaking of age) | zan |
| Ordinal Numbers - Limewo Ordinal: | |
| pwemye | |
| dezyenm | |
| twazyenm | |
| katyenm | |
| senkyenm | |
| sizyenm | |
| setyenm | |
| wityenm | |
| nevyenm | |
| dizyenm | |
| the negative | pa |
| makes the noun plural | se |
Youth Wellness
Last Thursday I sat in on a youth forum conducted by one of the commissioners of the Ministry of Social Transformation. It was a very informative discussion to witness. I learned a little bit about how to encourage the participation of the youth in such forums and learned even more about the issues that the St. Lucian youth face day-to-day. The panel was made up of several unemployed youth ages 17 – 28 years old. Youth in
The forum took place in an educational skills development resource center. The center offers free courses to the unemployed in special areas such as culinary arts, computer science, information technology, sewing, homemaking, welding, tour guidance, and cosmetology.
Part of the unemployment problem in
Another major and dominating factor in
Finally, I have had a few discussions with some locals about the availability and perception of mental health services on the island. Many people feel there is a major problem with absent fathers, domestic violence (parent to child) and parenting styles. Seeking services is taboo and carries a negative stigmatization.
These are just some of the things I have been learning about!
Thursday, September 11, 2008
PCV Loses Her Roll
(Journal transcription Tuesday September 9th, 2008 10pm ish)
First day of school:
The guidance counselor (my Institutional Point Person and woman I will be working with for the next 2 years) asked me to be at Castries Comprehensive by 8:00 am for the teachers briefing; held every morning by the principle. The guidance counselor had not yet arrived when I got there at 7:45 am (
At the staff meeting I could barely hear Principal Joseph speak. The traffic noises emanating from the highway easily slipped through the checker board walls and windows designed for open air circulation. I couldn’t help but wonder how children concentrate with so many external stimuli, and in such heat! Soon enough I realized the principal was saying a prayer for the day. This is the custom in
After briefing I met with the teacher that I was to follow and observe for the day. As we entered her class the children’s chairs screeched across the concrete floor as they stood to greet the teacher. The teacher greeted the class, “Good morning students.” The students acknowledged her in unison, “Good morning teacher.” The students would remain standing until the teacher asked them to sit. Next, the students were asked to pull out their books. Most of the students have to share books. As the students read the reading comprehension story out loud I couldn’t help but notice that this form 1 (7th grade) class was reading what I would consider 3rd grade material. The teacher informs me that all form 1 classes across all of
I accompanied the teacher to the staff room during her break period. This gave me a chance to socialize with some of the other teachers. One of the teachers was telling me about how he does something adventures every other Sunday; snorkeling, climbing, hiking to waterfalls, etc, and I was invited to join him and to bring other PCVs if I am interested. This will be lots of fun.
Then, the moment I was feeling more comfortable and at ease I was brought right back into a world of awkwardness. I asked my shadow teacher, “Where is the restroom.” She says, “Oh” with an unreadable look on her face. She reaches up and grabs a key off the wall, which she then hands me along with a jumbo roll of toilet paper and says, “follow me” We push our way through the student filled hall and down the stairs. As we begin a long stride across the school lawn I try my best to discretely carry my role of toilet paper. We get to the one and only staff restroom tactfully placed on the whole other side of campus, after what seemed like an eternal walk of shame. The teacher instructs me to use the key for both entry into the restroom and locking the door on the other side. After struggling with the rusty lock and key for a moment I finally gained access, relieved that I didn’t lose hold of my jumbo roll in the struggle. I could just picture the headline; White Lady Struggles with Bathroom Door, Jumbo Roll Slips From Grasp During Brothel and Rolls Away Across Central Court Yard. Nevertheless, I walk into the open room that contains 3 urinals and 2 stalls. “Do men and women use the same restroom?” I think. As I hurry to finish my business I pray over and over that no man enters to pee. I walk back to the staff room playing over and over in my head how to avoid walking in on a man using the urinal and being completely mortified. This concern keeps my mind off the fact that I am carrying a jumbo roll across campus. Thinking back though, people didn’t really take notice because the bathroom ritual is commonplace.
I got back to the staff room and was almost too embarrassed to ask about the unisex bathroom issue but I do anyway. The teacher laughs and remarks, “I forgot to tell you! Leave the key in the lock on the other side of the door. This way teachers know the bathroom is occupied when they cannot push their key in all the way.” Boy was a relieved, but I can’t help but wonder if she was putting me through initiation.