Making My Mark

I might be interested in school counseling at some point in the states. I am enjoying working with the kids so far. Perhaps I will work at a school in a low income district. I am feeling inspired by some of the positive ways I have been able to impact the lives of several of the kids in the past days.

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

Most days I feel like a foreigner. It’s clear in my mind. It’s simple. I feel different in mentality and in color. However, at certain times, and as time goes on I feel like I have a place here, like I get it. For instance, when hiking with the Sunday group I feel that I am amongst friends and any differences are not very apparent. I am brought back to ponder the topic of race. When integration first began the cultural differences were hard not to notice. They were obvious and made me feel out of place. My life consisted of a continuous stream of uncomfortable situations. My different skin tone made me feel even more foreign and like one more thing that set me apart from the locals. While this difference is really not any sort of meaningful difference at all, when it is paired with culture shock, having a different skin tone stood out in my mind as just one more barrier to easy integrating. I have wondered on more than one occasion how much easier it would be to integrate if I were black. However, as I have begun to settle in and come to feel more and more comfortable and familiar with this new place I think about the color difference less and less. It’s becoming only a minute detail, trivial at best.

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!

Rainforest Adventures

Last Sunday I went on a hike with Haley, two teachers I work with and 6 of their friends. It was 10 of us hiking and our trail was from Laborie (on the southern side of the island) to Soufriere (on the west side of the island). We stopped at a waterfall on our way to the trail to Soufriere. The waterfall is considered one of the best on the island because it is a series of three big waterfalls and you can bathe in the water holes below them. It was a nice hike, of moderate difficulty. How about I give you a rough time line of our rainforest events:

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

OBAMA! OBAMA! OBAMA!

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!