So over the past few weeks my job assignment as a Peace Corps volunteer has changed dramatically. The job that I was first given when I was chosen to work at West Demerara Regional hospital is no longer the job I am working on, at least it’s no longer my primary job. Originally, I was assigned to work with the assistant hospital administrator (AMA) of the hospital and the Regional Health Officer on developing mental health programs throughout the region and also on creating, implementing, and maintaining a waste management disposal program at my hospital. Both of these project started out well, I did a lot of research on the issues, the current status of mental health and waste management in Guyana, what the current resources are, what needs to be improved upon, and what was feasibly sustainable at this time, given the current landscape. This went well for the first 2 weeks I was at my site; I was able to do a lot of this work on my own, which was good because the AMA is usually very busy. However, about 3 weeks in, my research was done and I was ready to move onto the next step, with the help of the AMA. This is when I began to run into some issues. Both of my projects were too big to develop and implement on my own, huge systems changes, even just within the hospital, is not something I am qualified or even capable of doing on my own. I needed the AMA to assist me in the next steps. However, he was extremely busy with the day to day runnings of the hospital and, while still committed to the projects, was not able or prepared to take the necessary time to work on them. I did not see him or have contact with him for almost 2 months, during which time I literally had nothing to do but walk around the hospital and try to find people to talk to who would need me to do something.
It was maybe one of the most frustrating times I have ever experienced. There I was, a Peace Corps volunteer with a college degree and field experience and almost a complete master’s degree in public health and I was just walking around aimlessly, sitting outside people’s offices for a few hours before finally giving up and going home. I felt useless and frustrated and I was more than a little bit afraid that this was going to continue on for my full 2 years. I started going to the computer room for a few hours in the morning, to help transfer paper records to the new electronic medical records system, until one morning I walked in and there was someone sitting at my desk. The hospital had hired someone full time to do the medical records and my assistance was no longer needed. I literally had no place to go or be at the hospital, no physical place to go and spend my day except my house. That was the final straw for me. I went to Peace Corps and spoke with my program manager. I told her what was happening and explained, as politely as I possibly could at that point that she needed to get in contact with the AMA, who was supposed to be my counterpart on these projects (but who had never answered one email or phone call from me and who I hadn’t seen or spoken to in 2 months) and let him know that I was going to find my own projects outside of his office unless he stepped up and started working with me again. I gave him a week, and after still hearing nothing from him and sitting outside his office for hours at a time, waiting for him to make time to meet with me, I had finally had enough. The next day, which was about 2 and a half weeks ago, I went to see Nurse Johnson, who is in charge of all the health clinics in the region. I told her my situation and explained that I was completing my master’s in public health and had a specific interest in maternal and child health (MCH). I asked her if she knew of any projects involving MCH that could use my assistance, that I was a free resource who was here for 2 years to do development work and I was ready, willing, and desperate to get my hands dirty. She immediately took me over to the maternal and child health clinic at the hospital, spoke to the medex who ran it and told her that I was a Peace Corps volunteer who was going to be working at the clinic with them for 2 years. The medex asked me if I could come every day and help the nurses, sit in on exams and consultations, and give weekly health talks to the women on various health topics. I swear, I almost gave both the medex and Nurse Johnson a hug and a kiss right there.
This new assignment at the clinic is absolutely perfect for me. I only just started last Wednesday and clinic only runs Monday through Thursday from 8am to noon, but it is so much better than wandering around aimlessly, waiting for the AMA to get his act together, and feeling useless and bored. Basically what I will be doing is attending the various clinics they have during the week that are specific to women and children. For example, every Tuesday is antenatal day, when pregnant women come in for routine checkups and every Wednesday is infant and child day, when women bring in their young children for checkups. I help the nurses fill out records; I do height, weight, and blood pressure. I sit in with the medex and sometimes the doctor when one is available and help with exams. Once or twice a week I will be giving health talks to the patients on various issues such as breastfeeding, nutrition, and HIV/AIDS.
Today was antenatal day, when all the pregnant women come in for checkups. I helped the nurse find all of the women’s health cards and then weighed all the women and updated their cards. I then went in with the medex and assisted her in examinations. I learned how to measure the belly for fetal height, feel for fetal presentation so that we can see whether the child is facing with its head the right way. I also learned how to listen for a baby’s heartbeat without an ultrasound machine, which was so awesome. The medex even let me help with full examinations of new admissions, which includes full gynecological exams. It was definitely a new and different experience, but absolutely incredible. Next week, I will be doing a health talk with the women on exercises they can do during pregnancy. Right now, I am planning on just observing and helping out where I can while I figure out what types of long term projects the health center may need. I already have a few ideas but I want to get settled and comfortable with my new position before I start talking about changing things or implementing new ideas. If my counterpart, the AMA, still would like to work on his projects with me I am definitely still interested in that but until then, I will be putting most of my time and energy into the maternal and child health clinic. But, even more important than that, I am finally happy with my job assignment and I actually feel like I am being helpful and useful and doing something good with my time
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
5 months in: Random thoughts
So the other week I decided to try my hand at being domestic, seeing as though I am living alone in my own apartment for the 1st time ever, and sew my own window curtains by hand. Having nice curtains in one’s house is a pretty big thing here in Guyana. Every window and sometimes every doorway have its own curtain and the designs are carefully selected and changed every couple months and for every major holiday. People have special curtains that only go up at Christmas or when someone gets married or when a baby is born. And of course, these curtains are usually sewed by hand. When I moved into my apartment my landlady had put up her good Christmas curtains on all my windows and about 2 weeks ago she took them down to use in her own home when her daughter gets married in early August. This left me in somewhat of a predicament, since the distance between my windows and my neighbors is about 1 foot and my windows were now fully exposed. I decided that the obvious solution to this was to buy fabric and sew curtains. Sounded simple enough. I went and bought fabric, a nice light blue with a rose/bird design (the pickings were slim at the store), got out my little travel sewing kit, and blocked out a whole Sunday afternoon. My apartment has 6 decent sized windows and about halfway through the first curtain I started to think that maybe I wasn’t cut out for the whole domestic seamstress housewife thing. My stiches were crooked, I couldn’t measure to save my life, and the only thing I could find to hang them up was this ghetto looking blue rope. Plus Nala kept thinking that rolling around in the fabric and chasing after the rope was the best game ever. But I powered through, cause already made curtains are incredibly expensive and I had already bought the fabric and I am in Peace Corps gosh darn it, I should be able to sew a few lousy curtains. Four hours later they were done, slightly crooked and hanging on hammock rope but they were up and now my neighbors could no longer look out their windows and accidently see me walking around with no pants on (In my defense, it is stupidly hot here every single day)
Jump to the next afternoon around 5: My landlady, having seen the evidence of new curtains through my windows comes up to check them out. She takes one look, feels them between 2 fingers and just shakes her head and says “Me resew for you. Don’t trouble, me resew.” And epic fail. She takes down all my curtains (And there went my plans to walk around pants-less later) and resews them all herself. When she brings them back 2 days later, they look professionally done and she even hangs them up with special elastic curtain rope that I had no idea even existed. Guess my inner housewife still needs a little bit more work :)
Jump to the next afternoon around 5: My landlady, having seen the evidence of new curtains through my windows comes up to check them out. She takes one look, feels them between 2 fingers and just shakes her head and says “Me resew for you. Don’t trouble, me resew.” And epic fail. She takes down all my curtains (And there went my plans to walk around pants-less later) and resews them all herself. When she brings them back 2 days later, they look professionally done and she even hangs them up with special elastic curtain rope that I had no idea even existed. Guess my inner housewife still needs a little bit more work :)
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Time flies....
The fact that July 1st is tomorrow is blowing my mind. How fast is this year going by?! It can’t just be me who feels like what happened 2 weeks ago seems like it happened yesterday and the fact that I’ve been gone for almost 5 months seems like 5 days. My friend Alyssa and I have been talking about going home for Christmas for weeks now and yesterday I realized that I already need to buy my plane ticket at the beginning of next month. Crazy, right?
And in just 2 short weeks it will also be the 5 month anniversary of being in country and the 3 month anniversary of being an official Peace Corps volunteer. Also in 2 weeks is the reconnect conference that all of us Guyana 23 volunteers are required to attend. It is always set 3 months after being sworn in and living at your permanent site and it is basically when all the new volunteers get together with Peace Corps staff and talk about our sites, our jobs, what we like, what we don’t like, and what Peace Corps can (hopefully) do to help. It is also the time when all the volunteers get to see everyone again after being apart so inevitably there is a lot of gaffing (gossiping), liming (laying around in the sun), and sporting (drinking rum) that goes on :)
So I’m sure I don’t have to remind everyone that a very important and momentous occasion occurred recently, on the 23rd of June to be exact. Yes, that would have been my 24th birthday. Other than feeling slightly old at the age of 24, my birthday was very relaxed and low key, which is how I wanted it. My one friend baked me a delicious chocolate cake, which I have been eating for breakfast all week, and a few other friends made me a bottle of homemade rice wine (pretty much a bunch of rice, sugar, and water that you let sit and distill for a few weeks until it becomes a very sweet tasting alcoholic beverage. Delicious). I woke up late (which around here is 8 am), lounged in the hammock, and then had a few beers down at the docks with some friends (yes that is as shady as it sounds but it is also very fun and very Guyanese.) Overall, it was a very good day and I’m lucky to have so many good friends that were here to share it with me.
I’ve had some time off of work this week so I have taken it upon myself to do some walking around and exploring of Georgetown, which is the capital. Now, I love Guyana and it truly is a beautiful country but Georgetown is just not a very aesthetically pleasing town. It definitely is not the kind of city you walk around to look at the sites and enjoy a beautiful day, mostly because if you are looking for sites and not where you’re walking you’ll step in some sewage and it’s hard to enjoy a beautiful Guyanese day when there is a distinct smell of urine in the air. However, if you look for them, there are some areas of Georgetown which have quite a bit of character to them, you just have to know where they are :) One of my favorites is Regent Street, which runs almost the entire length of the city and is the main shopping hub. There are small shops and stands lining the street selling everything from clothes and shoes to pirated movies and music to snacks. You can’t walk more than 3 feet without running into a music stand blaring the latest reggae or hip hop or 80’s power ballads right next to a guy selling water coconuts. I love that Regent Street is always busy and crowded and the same vendors are always out in the same spot, rain or shine.
On a recent trip to Georgetown, a friend and I had an experience which I think everyone back will find amusing. We were on the hunt for a bathing suit, which is almost impossible to find in Guyana. (Guyanese don’t wear swim
suits, they swim in their clothes or their underwear. This is one trend I will not be adopting, I promise. ) So as we were looking for the elusive American style bathing suit we were directed to the “City Mall”, which is the only mall or large indoor shopping complex in Guyana. It is about a fourth of the size of a traditional American shopping mall but when you go inside it pretty much looks the same. It has 3 levels of stores, kiosks and a small food court downstairs. Now when my friend and I walked into the mall we pretty much stood in the entrance for about 5 minutes with our mouths hanging open. It had been quite a few months since either of us had been inside a mall and it’s amazing how the culture shock can hit you, even when it’s something as simple as a shopping mall. We just stood there, looking around, and saying “Oh my god, it’s like America. It’s like a real mall. This is so weird.” As we were trying to decide where to go first, my friend tapped me on the shoulder, pointed at something and said “Look”. Where was she pointing, you ask? At the escalator. The only escalator in the country of Guyana and it’s located in the City Mall, between the 1st and 2nd floor. Here’s something I think everyone at home should try. For the next 5 months, don’t go anywhere where there is an escalator. Don’t use one, don’t look at one, don’t even think about them existing, and then go and try to get on one. It is terrifying. It actually took me a minute to step onto the strange moving stairs contraption. It was hilarious and weird and it made me wonder what I’m gonna do when I get home and I have to get in an elevator, something else that doesn’t exist in Guyana. Now that is gonna be some serious culture shock :)
And in just 2 short weeks it will also be the 5 month anniversary of being in country and the 3 month anniversary of being an official Peace Corps volunteer. Also in 2 weeks is the reconnect conference that all of us Guyana 23 volunteers are required to attend. It is always set 3 months after being sworn in and living at your permanent site and it is basically when all the new volunteers get together with Peace Corps staff and talk about our sites, our jobs, what we like, what we don’t like, and what Peace Corps can (hopefully) do to help. It is also the time when all the volunteers get to see everyone again after being apart so inevitably there is a lot of gaffing (gossiping), liming (laying around in the sun), and sporting (drinking rum) that goes on :)
So I’m sure I don’t have to remind everyone that a very important and momentous occasion occurred recently, on the 23rd of June to be exact. Yes, that would have been my 24th birthday. Other than feeling slightly old at the age of 24, my birthday was very relaxed and low key, which is how I wanted it. My one friend baked me a delicious chocolate cake, which I have been eating for breakfast all week, and a few other friends made me a bottle of homemade rice wine (pretty much a bunch of rice, sugar, and water that you let sit and distill for a few weeks until it becomes a very sweet tasting alcoholic beverage. Delicious). I woke up late (which around here is 8 am), lounged in the hammock, and then had a few beers down at the docks with some friends (yes that is as shady as it sounds but it is also very fun and very Guyanese.) Overall, it was a very good day and I’m lucky to have so many good friends that were here to share it with me.
I’ve had some time off of work this week so I have taken it upon myself to do some walking around and exploring of Georgetown, which is the capital. Now, I love Guyana and it truly is a beautiful country but Georgetown is just not a very aesthetically pleasing town. It definitely is not the kind of city you walk around to look at the sites and enjoy a beautiful day, mostly because if you are looking for sites and not where you’re walking you’ll step in some sewage and it’s hard to enjoy a beautiful Guyanese day when there is a distinct smell of urine in the air. However, if you look for them, there are some areas of Georgetown which have quite a bit of character to them, you just have to know where they are :) One of my favorites is Regent Street, which runs almost the entire length of the city and is the main shopping hub. There are small shops and stands lining the street selling everything from clothes and shoes to pirated movies and music to snacks. You can’t walk more than 3 feet without running into a music stand blaring the latest reggae or hip hop or 80’s power ballads right next to a guy selling water coconuts. I love that Regent Street is always busy and crowded and the same vendors are always out in the same spot, rain or shine.
On a recent trip to Georgetown, a friend and I had an experience which I think everyone back will find amusing. We were on the hunt for a bathing suit, which is almost impossible to find in Guyana. (Guyanese don’t wear swim
suits, they swim in their clothes or their underwear. This is one trend I will not be adopting, I promise. ) So as we were looking for the elusive American style bathing suit we were directed to the “City Mall”, which is the only mall or large indoor shopping complex in Guyana. It is about a fourth of the size of a traditional American shopping mall but when you go inside it pretty much looks the same. It has 3 levels of stores, kiosks and a small food court downstairs. Now when my friend and I walked into the mall we pretty much stood in the entrance for about 5 minutes with our mouths hanging open. It had been quite a few months since either of us had been inside a mall and it’s amazing how the culture shock can hit you, even when it’s something as simple as a shopping mall. We just stood there, looking around, and saying “Oh my god, it’s like America. It’s like a real mall. This is so weird.” As we were trying to decide where to go first, my friend tapped me on the shoulder, pointed at something and said “Look”. Where was she pointing, you ask? At the escalator. The only escalator in the country of Guyana and it’s located in the City Mall, between the 1st and 2nd floor. Here’s something I think everyone at home should try. For the next 5 months, don’t go anywhere where there is an escalator. Don’t use one, don’t look at one, don’t even think about them existing, and then go and try to get on one. It is terrifying. It actually took me a minute to step onto the strange moving stairs contraption. It was hilarious and weird and it made me wonder what I’m gonna do when I get home and I have to get in an elevator, something else that doesn’t exist in Guyana. Now that is gonna be some serious culture shock :)
Sunday, June 19, 2011
4 months of service: Food, the rainy season, and bugs, bugs, and more bugs
So I am officially 4 months into my Peace Corps service. I cannot believe how fast that time has gone by. It seems like only yesterday I was leaving my house in Allentown for the hotel in Philly for my pre-service staging. And yet here I am a real, live, true Peace Corps volunteer in South America. Still sounds insane, right? :)
One of the things that people always ask me about living in Guyana is what I eat. People back in the states probably don’t know what Guyanese cuisine is; I definitely didn’t before I moved here. As a Caribbean nation on the South American mainland with large Indian, African, and Chinese populations, Guyanese food is as diverse and unique as the people who live here. The cuisine is dominated by fresh fruits and vegetables. There are markets and produce stands in every village and farming is a large sector of the economy. Balanger (eggplant), pumpkin, channa (chickpeas), and plantains are definite staples in my diet. Most vegetables here are made into a curry and served with either rice or roti, which is similar to a flatbread. For all my Kenyan family out there it is very very similar to chapatti, and just as delicious :) Chicken and beef are very prevalent but I rarely eat meat here, mostly cause you have to butcher it or cut it yourself (refer to my previous entry about de-feathering a chicken). Also, any precut meat is cut up and sold on small wooden carts on the side of the road or open air stores that are not very appealing to the appetite with flies and dust everywhere. You usually have to soak all meat in vinegar for at least 30 minutes before you cook it to kill anything you don’t want to ingest. I’ve pretty much gone mostly vegetarian since I’ve gotten here, with the occasional piece of chicken, but I swear the first thing I’m eating when I’m back home is the biggest steak I can find :) My favorite thing about the food here in Guyana is the abundance of fresh tropical fruits. Watermelon, pineapple, papaya, and guavas make a weekly and often daily appearance in my diet and they definitely taste much better and much fresher than anything you can get back in the states. My three favorite Guyanese foods are definitely chicken curry, pumpkin with roti, and cassava chips with plenty sour. Don’t worry, my goal from now until December is to master those 3 recipes so I can make them for you all back home :)
Now that it is June here in Guyana we have just entered one of the rainy seasons. There is no such thing as winter, spring, fall and summer here, just rainy or dry. And always, always hot. Rainy season means that is will probably rain at least once a day for three months and the rain will not just be quick showers, but complete and total downpours. They usually only last 20 or 30 minutes but can occur several times a day. You always have to walk with your umbrella during rainy season. (In Guyana creolese instead of saying “I carried my umbrella” you would say “I walked with my umbrella”). Rainy season means that during the rainfall the temperature drops to only 75 or 80 degrees Fahrenheit and the humidity becomes tolerable. This is the only time you can reasonable say the words “I feel” and “cold” in the same sentence while standing in Guyana and this is only if you forgot to walk with your umbrella and are now soaking wet from walking home in a monsoon. (This happens to me often.) The one really good thing about rainy season when you live on the coast is that the breeze is usually stronger and more frequent. In a country where air conditioning is a rare luxury and blackouts commonplace (which means no fan), a cool breeze is essential. There really is nothing quite like standing at the sink doing dishes, sweating of course, when all of a sudden a cool breeze blows in through the window and slowly washes over you. You can’t help but stop what you are doing, close your eyes, and savor that brief moment of relief from the heat. You really learn to appreciate the magic of a cool breeze when you live 5 degrees north of the equator. It is something you never quite have the time to appreciate back in the States but here it can instantly change your mood for the better.
Guyana has a shit ton of bugs. There really is no other way to say that which would do justice to the literally hundreds of bugs I encounter on a daily basis. Ants, flies, spiders, cockroaches, mosquitos just to name a few, are literally everywhere. All the time. But what’s even crazier than the sheer number of bugs present at any given moment is the way your reaction to them changes. When I first got to Guyana, I’m sure I swatted at every fly and mosquito and brushed away every ant that came crawling towards my dinner plate. Now, 4 months in, the mosquitos and I have come to a mutual understanding that if they come anywhere near me, I will spray them so hard with Mozipel (the industrial strength Peace Corps mosquito spray) they won’t even see it coming. I barely hear flies buzzing anymore; I just wipe my counter down with bleach for the 3rd time that day and wait for them to fly away on their own. And as far as the ants go….let’s just say that I’m pretty sure at this point I’ve accidently eaten more ants than I’ve brushed away from my food. So I guess I’m not completely vegetarian :) It’s weird to think about how something like bugs can become a normal part of my life when back home you would call an exterminator at the first sign of a cockroach. Luckily I don’t have many in my house but I have seen a few since I’ve moved in. There is no such thing as an exterminator here, it’s just me, a shoe, and a giant can on heavy duty insect repellant and then the hunt is on :)
One of the things that people always ask me about living in Guyana is what I eat. People back in the states probably don’t know what Guyanese cuisine is; I definitely didn’t before I moved here. As a Caribbean nation on the South American mainland with large Indian, African, and Chinese populations, Guyanese food is as diverse and unique as the people who live here. The cuisine is dominated by fresh fruits and vegetables. There are markets and produce stands in every village and farming is a large sector of the economy. Balanger (eggplant), pumpkin, channa (chickpeas), and plantains are definite staples in my diet. Most vegetables here are made into a curry and served with either rice or roti, which is similar to a flatbread. For all my Kenyan family out there it is very very similar to chapatti, and just as delicious :) Chicken and beef are very prevalent but I rarely eat meat here, mostly cause you have to butcher it or cut it yourself (refer to my previous entry about de-feathering a chicken). Also, any precut meat is cut up and sold on small wooden carts on the side of the road or open air stores that are not very appealing to the appetite with flies and dust everywhere. You usually have to soak all meat in vinegar for at least 30 minutes before you cook it to kill anything you don’t want to ingest. I’ve pretty much gone mostly vegetarian since I’ve gotten here, with the occasional piece of chicken, but I swear the first thing I’m eating when I’m back home is the biggest steak I can find :) My favorite thing about the food here in Guyana is the abundance of fresh tropical fruits. Watermelon, pineapple, papaya, and guavas make a weekly and often daily appearance in my diet and they definitely taste much better and much fresher than anything you can get back in the states. My three favorite Guyanese foods are definitely chicken curry, pumpkin with roti, and cassava chips with plenty sour. Don’t worry, my goal from now until December is to master those 3 recipes so I can make them for you all back home :)
Now that it is June here in Guyana we have just entered one of the rainy seasons. There is no such thing as winter, spring, fall and summer here, just rainy or dry. And always, always hot. Rainy season means that is will probably rain at least once a day for three months and the rain will not just be quick showers, but complete and total downpours. They usually only last 20 or 30 minutes but can occur several times a day. You always have to walk with your umbrella during rainy season. (In Guyana creolese instead of saying “I carried my umbrella” you would say “I walked with my umbrella”). Rainy season means that during the rainfall the temperature drops to only 75 or 80 degrees Fahrenheit and the humidity becomes tolerable. This is the only time you can reasonable say the words “I feel” and “cold” in the same sentence while standing in Guyana and this is only if you forgot to walk with your umbrella and are now soaking wet from walking home in a monsoon. (This happens to me often.) The one really good thing about rainy season when you live on the coast is that the breeze is usually stronger and more frequent. In a country where air conditioning is a rare luxury and blackouts commonplace (which means no fan), a cool breeze is essential. There really is nothing quite like standing at the sink doing dishes, sweating of course, when all of a sudden a cool breeze blows in through the window and slowly washes over you. You can’t help but stop what you are doing, close your eyes, and savor that brief moment of relief from the heat. You really learn to appreciate the magic of a cool breeze when you live 5 degrees north of the equator. It is something you never quite have the time to appreciate back in the States but here it can instantly change your mood for the better.
Guyana has a shit ton of bugs. There really is no other way to say that which would do justice to the literally hundreds of bugs I encounter on a daily basis. Ants, flies, spiders, cockroaches, mosquitos just to name a few, are literally everywhere. All the time. But what’s even crazier than the sheer number of bugs present at any given moment is the way your reaction to them changes. When I first got to Guyana, I’m sure I swatted at every fly and mosquito and brushed away every ant that came crawling towards my dinner plate. Now, 4 months in, the mosquitos and I have come to a mutual understanding that if they come anywhere near me, I will spray them so hard with Mozipel (the industrial strength Peace Corps mosquito spray) they won’t even see it coming. I barely hear flies buzzing anymore; I just wipe my counter down with bleach for the 3rd time that day and wait for them to fly away on their own. And as far as the ants go….let’s just say that I’m pretty sure at this point I’ve accidently eaten more ants than I’ve brushed away from my food. So I guess I’m not completely vegetarian :) It’s weird to think about how something like bugs can become a normal part of my life when back home you would call an exterminator at the first sign of a cockroach. Luckily I don’t have many in my house but I have seen a few since I’ve moved in. There is no such thing as an exterminator here, it’s just me, a shoe, and a giant can on heavy duty insect repellant and then the hunt is on :)
Monday, June 6, 2011
My weekend jungle run
This weekend I got to have a pretty unique experience, an experience that was so incredibly fun and definitely something I will remember for a long time. On Saturday this past weekend myself and some fellow PC volunteers joined a group called the Georgetown Hashers. The "hashers" are an international running club that have chapters in most major cities around the globe. They actually refer to themselves as a "drinking group with a running problem" but we'll get to that part of the story later :) Basically they are a group of people who get together every couple of weeks and go for runs, usually between 4 to 6 miles, through courses that have been laid out ahead of time by the "hare" which is the name of the person who organizes the race. The runs are usually through what is considered rough or difficult terrain, something that makes the run a little bit unique or exciting and not just your average jog in the park. This week's hasher run was a "jungle run" which is exactly what it sounds like :)
Everyone met up at the British High Commission in Georgetown at 1 pm, the group was made up of embassy people, expats, some local Guyanese, and Peace Corps volunteers. There were 5 or 6 of us who were going on our 1st run and we were referred to as hasher "virgins". We all loaded up in various cars and trucks and headed outside of the city, about an hour away into the jungle. Literally into the rain forest,which covers about 70% of Guyana. I had to ride in the back of a pickup truck, which was both fun and terrifying as we sped down the highway going almost 50 mph. We arrived at the house where the run would start and received instructions on the rules of a hasher run. Since it was a jungle run, everyone was required to stay together as much as possible. The trail is always marked by piles of shredded paper and, when you pass one you have to yell out "On, On!" so that people behind you know they are headed the right way. The hasher tradition was started by the British in the mid-20th century, so there are various other rules and traditions. One runner carries a small bugle type horn with the on the run and blows it occasionally to keep everyone on the same trail.
And then you start running. This jungle run was just about 4 miles over extremely rough terrain. Wet sandy mud that went up hills, through the bush, and through creeks. At one point we ran through an open field that happened to be filled with pricker bushes and razor vines. My legs got pretty beat up from that, which was even more annoying when we realized we had gone the wrong way and we had to turn around and go back through it all. But the best part of the whole run was when we went through the jungle. Think about that comes to mind when someone says the words "rain forest" or "jungle" to you: that picture, that image in your mind is what we ran through. Except there was so much dense vegetation, so many vines and trees and bushes that our run was more like a walk with a purpose :) It was amazingly cool and beautiful and awesome. It was definitely a moment when I kept thinking to myself, holy crap, I live in South America now.
Eventually we made it through the jungle, finished the 4 mile run and made it to the end point, a small open field near a creek. Now, most of you are probably wondering why anyone would run 4 miles, in the jungle, in hot and humid Guyana. The reason is quite simple: at the end of the run there is good food and unlimited cold beer just waiting for you :) We had bar-be-que chicken, rice, and potato salad to reload on all those carbs we just burned off and, of course, cold refreshing beer. Now at this point, the whole thing becomes very much like a frat house, which I found amusing and awesome. Everyone grabs a beer, forms a circle and cheers to the hares, who plotted out the course that week. Then everyone sings a very scandalous and inappropriate song as the hares chug a beer. After that, the hasher virgins get in the middle of the circle and have to introduce themselves. And of course, we each had to chug an ice cold beer, which is never fun. And if you can't finish chugging, the beer gets poured on your head. There were 2 other PCV's who were also hasher virgins along with myself and the group of PCV's who had done this before took it upon themselves to scream "Chug, chug" at us as we drank. Luckily, all 3 of us finished our whole beer. Clearly a very important talent to have as a development professional :)
After all of that it is time to just hang out, eat good food, drink more beer, and reflect on how out of shape you actually are. The hashers do a new run with a new course every 2-3 weeks and I'm already excited about the next one. It was so much fun and we got to hang out with some really awesome, fun people. And the food and the beer didn't hurt :) And so that was my weekend, definitely going down as one of the top Saturdays in Guyana so far.
Everyone met up at the British High Commission in Georgetown at 1 pm, the group was made up of embassy people, expats, some local Guyanese, and Peace Corps volunteers. There were 5 or 6 of us who were going on our 1st run and we were referred to as hasher "virgins". We all loaded up in various cars and trucks and headed outside of the city, about an hour away into the jungle. Literally into the rain forest,which covers about 70% of Guyana. I had to ride in the back of a pickup truck, which was both fun and terrifying as we sped down the highway going almost 50 mph. We arrived at the house where the run would start and received instructions on the rules of a hasher run. Since it was a jungle run, everyone was required to stay together as much as possible. The trail is always marked by piles of shredded paper and, when you pass one you have to yell out "On, On!" so that people behind you know they are headed the right way. The hasher tradition was started by the British in the mid-20th century, so there are various other rules and traditions. One runner carries a small bugle type horn with the on the run and blows it occasionally to keep everyone on the same trail.
And then you start running. This jungle run was just about 4 miles over extremely rough terrain. Wet sandy mud that went up hills, through the bush, and through creeks. At one point we ran through an open field that happened to be filled with pricker bushes and razor vines. My legs got pretty beat up from that, which was even more annoying when we realized we had gone the wrong way and we had to turn around and go back through it all. But the best part of the whole run was when we went through the jungle. Think about that comes to mind when someone says the words "rain forest" or "jungle" to you: that picture, that image in your mind is what we ran through. Except there was so much dense vegetation, so many vines and trees and bushes that our run was more like a walk with a purpose :) It was amazingly cool and beautiful and awesome. It was definitely a moment when I kept thinking to myself, holy crap, I live in South America now.
Eventually we made it through the jungle, finished the 4 mile run and made it to the end point, a small open field near a creek. Now, most of you are probably wondering why anyone would run 4 miles, in the jungle, in hot and humid Guyana. The reason is quite simple: at the end of the run there is good food and unlimited cold beer just waiting for you :) We had bar-be-que chicken, rice, and potato salad to reload on all those carbs we just burned off and, of course, cold refreshing beer. Now at this point, the whole thing becomes very much like a frat house, which I found amusing and awesome. Everyone grabs a beer, forms a circle and cheers to the hares, who plotted out the course that week. Then everyone sings a very scandalous and inappropriate song as the hares chug a beer. After that, the hasher virgins get in the middle of the circle and have to introduce themselves. And of course, we each had to chug an ice cold beer, which is never fun. And if you can't finish chugging, the beer gets poured on your head. There were 2 other PCV's who were also hasher virgins along with myself and the group of PCV's who had done this before took it upon themselves to scream "Chug, chug" at us as we drank. Luckily, all 3 of us finished our whole beer. Clearly a very important talent to have as a development professional :)
After all of that it is time to just hang out, eat good food, drink more beer, and reflect on how out of shape you actually are. The hashers do a new run with a new course every 2-3 weeks and I'm already excited about the next one. It was so much fun and we got to hang out with some really awesome, fun people. And the food and the beer didn't hurt :) And so that was my weekend, definitely going down as one of the top Saturdays in Guyana so far.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Second month of service: Random Thoughts
It is crazy to think that, not only is it already June, but another week has gone by and the weekend has officially begun. The days and the weeks here just seem to go by so fast. One minute it’s Saturday and myself and a fellow volunteer are talking about how fast the past week just went and then the next minute I swear it’s already the next Saturday and the same conversation is taking place. It’s hard to think about where the time goes, especially when my days have become so routine, so normal. I get up and go to work, come home, cook dinner, maybe read or watch a movie on my computer before bed and then wake up and do the same thing the next day. It’s amazing how easily and seamlessly one goes from just being in a different country to actually living there, and doing all the normal, everyday things that you do at your home, at work, in your village. I got to thinking the other day about how things I do every day or every week here in Guyana are so normal, so a part of life that I never even had to think about back home in the States.
Like getting drinking water. In the U.S., no one ever wonders where the water that flows out of the tap comes from or if it’s safe to drink or whether you will run out. You turn the tap on, water comes out, and you drink it. Simple. Here in Guyana, like many places in the world, its not quite so simple. First of all, you can’t drink the water that comes out of the tap. No matter where you are, tap water is undrinkable. Every morning when I wake up I go into the kitchen, fill up a pitcher with tap water and pour it into my water filtration system, which is basically two plastic buckets that sit on top of each other with a Brita type purifying filter inside. That is the only water that is safe to drink. Problem is, if you forget to fill up the buckets and you run out, it takes a good 2-3 hours for water to run through. Nothing like being hot and sweaty and thirsty and just sitting there watching water drip through the filter. And not only is the tap water unsafe to drink, it can run out. A lot. Most people here have big black tanks next to their house that collect rain water and gets some water pumped in from storage tanks. But when that water runs out, you’re looking at another couple hours at best before the tanks fill up again and you have running water. Don’t be surprised if, when I’m back home in December, you find me being amazed at the fact that you can turn on a faucet, get water all the time, and drink it right away.
How about doing laundry? If you’re looking for a way to kill 2 or 3 hours, laundry is the way to go. Of course, it can’t be raining or night time when this happens. Once a week, I bring my laundry out to the front of the house and fill up 2 buckets with water and add detergent . It’s then time to separate out my clothes and begin scrubbing and cleaning them by hand in the 1st bucket and then rinsing them out in the 2nd. When you’re done with that, you simply hang them out on the clothes line and pray that it doesn’t rain for the next 5 hours, which during rainy season almost never happens.
Now of course it was 95 degrees and 100% humidity out when you were doing your laundry at 7am, so you’ve probably worked up quite the attractive sweat. Nothing new there. Time for the 1st bucket bath of the day. I have an indoor bathroom, with a tiled shower that’s actually nicer than some bathrooms back home. However, there is no actual shower inside, just a pipe coming out of the wall about 6 inches off the ground. No problem here, just fill up a small bucket, soap yourself up and then dump the freezing cold rainwater on your head. 3 or 4 buckets of water later and you’ve probably gotten most of the soap off your body and a good amount of the shampoo out of your hair. One more bucket of cold water over your head just for good measure and that is how you take a bucket bath :)
Of course, there are many other good life skills I am acquiring down here that will really be helpful when I move back home. Of course, that’s only if I’m moving back home to the States in the 18th century :) Bucket baths, laundry by hand, pumping your water, those are just the best ones. I can now light a fire to cook on, know how much weight a horse can pull on a wooden buggy, and, of course, de-feather, skin, de-gut, and butcher a whole chicken. I’m thinking of adding that last one to my resume.
Those are just a few of the activities in my life that have now become routine. It’s kind of funny how quickly those things become normal. The 1st week I was in Guyana and I helped my host dad butcher an iguana for our dinner, I laughed to myself about how quickly and dramatically my life had already changed, knowing that there was so much more to come. As strange as it seems, the transition to this new life has been pretty easy, pretty smooth. I can already anticipate that it will be the transition back to my old life in D.C. that will be a rough road. And who knows, maybe I will bring the art of the bucket bath and open-fire cooking back to D.C. :)
Like getting drinking water. In the U.S., no one ever wonders where the water that flows out of the tap comes from or if it’s safe to drink or whether you will run out. You turn the tap on, water comes out, and you drink it. Simple. Here in Guyana, like many places in the world, its not quite so simple. First of all, you can’t drink the water that comes out of the tap. No matter where you are, tap water is undrinkable. Every morning when I wake up I go into the kitchen, fill up a pitcher with tap water and pour it into my water filtration system, which is basically two plastic buckets that sit on top of each other with a Brita type purifying filter inside. That is the only water that is safe to drink. Problem is, if you forget to fill up the buckets and you run out, it takes a good 2-3 hours for water to run through. Nothing like being hot and sweaty and thirsty and just sitting there watching water drip through the filter. And not only is the tap water unsafe to drink, it can run out. A lot. Most people here have big black tanks next to their house that collect rain water and gets some water pumped in from storage tanks. But when that water runs out, you’re looking at another couple hours at best before the tanks fill up again and you have running water. Don’t be surprised if, when I’m back home in December, you find me being amazed at the fact that you can turn on a faucet, get water all the time, and drink it right away.
How about doing laundry? If you’re looking for a way to kill 2 or 3 hours, laundry is the way to go. Of course, it can’t be raining or night time when this happens. Once a week, I bring my laundry out to the front of the house and fill up 2 buckets with water and add detergent . It’s then time to separate out my clothes and begin scrubbing and cleaning them by hand in the 1st bucket and then rinsing them out in the 2nd. When you’re done with that, you simply hang them out on the clothes line and pray that it doesn’t rain for the next 5 hours, which during rainy season almost never happens.
Now of course it was 95 degrees and 100% humidity out when you were doing your laundry at 7am, so you’ve probably worked up quite the attractive sweat. Nothing new there. Time for the 1st bucket bath of the day. I have an indoor bathroom, with a tiled shower that’s actually nicer than some bathrooms back home. However, there is no actual shower inside, just a pipe coming out of the wall about 6 inches off the ground. No problem here, just fill up a small bucket, soap yourself up and then dump the freezing cold rainwater on your head. 3 or 4 buckets of water later and you’ve probably gotten most of the soap off your body and a good amount of the shampoo out of your hair. One more bucket of cold water over your head just for good measure and that is how you take a bucket bath :)
Of course, there are many other good life skills I am acquiring down here that will really be helpful when I move back home. Of course, that’s only if I’m moving back home to the States in the 18th century :) Bucket baths, laundry by hand, pumping your water, those are just the best ones. I can now light a fire to cook on, know how much weight a horse can pull on a wooden buggy, and, of course, de-feather, skin, de-gut, and butcher a whole chicken. I’m thinking of adding that last one to my resume.
Those are just a few of the activities in my life that have now become routine. It’s kind of funny how quickly those things become normal. The 1st week I was in Guyana and I helped my host dad butcher an iguana for our dinner, I laughed to myself about how quickly and dramatically my life had already changed, knowing that there was so much more to come. As strange as it seems, the transition to this new life has been pretty easy, pretty smooth. I can already anticipate that it will be the transition back to my old life in D.C. that will be a rough road. And who knows, maybe I will bring the art of the bucket bath and open-fire cooking back to D.C. :)
Friday, May 13, 2011
My one month anniversary
One month ago today, on April 13th, myself and 35 others were sworn in as Peace Corps volunteers. The next day we were suddenly on our own, alone in new houses, starting crazy new jobs, trying to gracefully and nonchalantly integrate into our new communities even though we stick out worse than sore thumbs. The Peace Corps kid gloves were officially off. No more host families to coddle and shelter us, no more training staff to solve all our problems, no more “I’m just a trainee” excuse. Shit just got real.
The integration process this first month has been relatively smooth, with a few minor bumps along the way just to see if I’m up for the challenge. It started out like any other time when you move into a new town or a new neighborhood. In the states, you try and meet the neighbors, find the closest bank, grocery store, bar (just me?), ice cream store (just me again?) and you slowly but surely fall into a new routine. It was a similar process for me here in Guyana when I moved down the coast to my new village of Vreed-en-Hoop. Finding the closest bank and grocery store was easy; there is only one of each within 20 miles of my house. Meeting the neighbors was also easy, my house is so close I can literally reach out and touch the house next door to me. And with everyone always liming and gaffing on their front steps it’s hard for them not to notice the white girl dragging suitcases through the alley. Side note, I have already decided that I am bringing none of the clothes and supplies I brought here back with me. No way am I dealing with those ridiculous suitcases again.
The first month as a volunteer was both full of activity and down time. There is so much to experience, so many new things to do and figure out and wrap your head around. But at the same time, the first month of service provides one with a lot of free time, a lot of moments to lay in the hammock, feeling totally alone in this strange new world and wonder, what the hell have I gotten myself into? You have a lot of time, probably too much time to sit and think about who you are, who you want to be, and inevitably, if that person you want to be is the same person you actually will be after 2 years in the Peace Corps. I already knew that I wasn’t the same person I was when I was 12 and first discovered what Peace Corps was and had that first thought of, oh that might be a cool thing to do when I grow up. But over this last month I’ve also realized that I’m not the same person I was when I applied for Peace Corps, now over 2 years ago, or even the same person who got on that plane at JFK 3 months ago. It’s a really freaky moment when all the pieces suddenly fall into place and you realize that that feeling you’ve been feeling, that weird ache in your gut is just you realizing for the first time what you actually want your life to look like. Almost enough to knock me clear out of my hammock :) Now I won’t bore you with the mundane details of exactly what I come to discover about myself and exactly what I want my life to be (hint: it’s probably the opposite of what most of you are thinking) but it has definitely made me appreciate being in the Peace Corps even more, it made me thankful for this time in my life that I can have this crazy adventure, this wild roller coaster ride, and then come home in 2 years and start down a different path towards the life I want.
So one month in, this is pretty much where I’m at. Having crazy existential, self-realization moments in the jungle. Who knows, maybe it’s the result of all the heat and rum my body has been subjected to since I’ve been here. Either way, I’m excited to see what month two has in store for me and, the way time has been moving so far, my 2 years will be done before I know it, and probably before I’m ready for it. Happy one month anniversary to all my fellow Guy 23 volunteers, we are one month closer to accomplishing something truly amazing. Love to all my family and friends back home, I miss you all every day.
Love,
Lindsay
The integration process this first month has been relatively smooth, with a few minor bumps along the way just to see if I’m up for the challenge. It started out like any other time when you move into a new town or a new neighborhood. In the states, you try and meet the neighbors, find the closest bank, grocery store, bar (just me?), ice cream store (just me again?) and you slowly but surely fall into a new routine. It was a similar process for me here in Guyana when I moved down the coast to my new village of Vreed-en-Hoop. Finding the closest bank and grocery store was easy; there is only one of each within 20 miles of my house. Meeting the neighbors was also easy, my house is so close I can literally reach out and touch the house next door to me. And with everyone always liming and gaffing on their front steps it’s hard for them not to notice the white girl dragging suitcases through the alley. Side note, I have already decided that I am bringing none of the clothes and supplies I brought here back with me. No way am I dealing with those ridiculous suitcases again.
The first month as a volunteer was both full of activity and down time. There is so much to experience, so many new things to do and figure out and wrap your head around. But at the same time, the first month of service provides one with a lot of free time, a lot of moments to lay in the hammock, feeling totally alone in this strange new world and wonder, what the hell have I gotten myself into? You have a lot of time, probably too much time to sit and think about who you are, who you want to be, and inevitably, if that person you want to be is the same person you actually will be after 2 years in the Peace Corps. I already knew that I wasn’t the same person I was when I was 12 and first discovered what Peace Corps was and had that first thought of, oh that might be a cool thing to do when I grow up. But over this last month I’ve also realized that I’m not the same person I was when I applied for Peace Corps, now over 2 years ago, or even the same person who got on that plane at JFK 3 months ago. It’s a really freaky moment when all the pieces suddenly fall into place and you realize that that feeling you’ve been feeling, that weird ache in your gut is just you realizing for the first time what you actually want your life to look like. Almost enough to knock me clear out of my hammock :) Now I won’t bore you with the mundane details of exactly what I come to discover about myself and exactly what I want my life to be (hint: it’s probably the opposite of what most of you are thinking) but it has definitely made me appreciate being in the Peace Corps even more, it made me thankful for this time in my life that I can have this crazy adventure, this wild roller coaster ride, and then come home in 2 years and start down a different path towards the life I want.
So one month in, this is pretty much where I’m at. Having crazy existential, self-realization moments in the jungle. Who knows, maybe it’s the result of all the heat and rum my body has been subjected to since I’ve been here. Either way, I’m excited to see what month two has in store for me and, the way time has been moving so far, my 2 years will be done before I know it, and probably before I’m ready for it. Happy one month anniversary to all my fellow Guy 23 volunteers, we are one month closer to accomplishing something truly amazing. Love to all my family and friends back home, I miss you all every day.
Love,
Lindsay
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