While living in Guyana I’ve definitely relearned the importance of appreciating everything you have. Before I came here there were many things that I took for granted, like dropping off my laundry. There were also some things I didn’t have that Guyana could offer, like the opportunity to feed a baby sloth.
A while ago I made a list of things to do before I die. While not all of these things were on it, I can definitely check off the following for 2006:
- Climb up a waterfall- check.
- Begin to understand Creolese- check.
- Learn how to be more patient and resilient- check.
- Not get malaria or typhoid- check.
- Teach a class of 200 screaming children- check.
- Get on a cooking show- check.
- Learn how to survive without running water- check.
Even with the abundance of new experiences here, there were still some days when I asked myself, “Where the hell am I?” During those times I would just close my eyes and go to my “happy place,” which was the most luxurious place I could think of: I could take a shower with warm, clean water. Then I could jump in a nice fluffy bed and snuggle under the covers because it was actually that cold. The thought of that now even makes me feel a little indulgent.
Well for Christmas my wish is coming true. I’ll be coming home to Texas, after making a stop in Brazil. I may have one more post depending on my internet accessibility, then the blog will be going on hiatus until I return in the beginning of January.
So, If you would like to see a fatter, tree hugger version of the Yvonne, email me. My old cell phone is still being used by someone else.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Kickin' It With The Soccer Team
Blogger's Note: I apologize for the delay in posts. Things have been quite busy lately and I haven't had a chance to use the internet. Next update should be this weekend-ish.
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On Tuesday just after giving my final at 1:50 pm, eight boys from the soccer team ran up begging me to take them to watch the Guyana vs. Grenada game. They already had tickets from the school, but apparently the teacher that was supposed to take them no longer could.
I was done with classes for the day and couldn’t resist their sad puppy dog faces, so I asked the Headmaster if it would be ok if I took the boys. He then informed me that we needed to be there in 10 minutes, and that the game was 45 minutes away.
By the time we made it to the game, we were fashionably late, and right on time for kick-off. The game was quite enjoyable. Every time Guyana was about to make a goal, the boys would run up to the front to catch a better glimpse of the excitement and the players’ remarkable athletic ability. The game ended 4-0 Guyana, leaving the boys in high spirits.
Since they were so well behaved, I promised them I would treat them to ice cream on our way home. We were heading straight down the street when all of sudden four boys veered off the path and around the corner. When I caught up to them, I turned to see a line of boys in uniform urinating in the grassy area on the side of a shop. So being a good teacher and embedding some civility in the students, I took out my hand sanitizer and made each one of them wash their hands.
After the boys had each received their ice cream cone and finished it, it was already dark. It made me nervous waiting in the bus park with the kids, especially since we were warned by the US embassy about lingering there after dark. Every attempt I had made to get the children transportation had failed since the locals were pushing their way to board bus. After 30 minutes I grew anxious and frustrated. The boys sensed my apprehension and bolted towards the next bus and fought their way on. Then they held back the oncoming crowd to ensure I boarded the bus safely and saved me a seat. It was so unexpected, yet sweet, that the boys were the ones taking care of me, even though I’m the Miss.
On the ride back the boys were in a jovial mood, singing and laughing the entire way. I started to relax knowing that we would all be safe going home, until I heard someone yell out, “Miss, John is licking the mini-bus,” followed by another shout, “John, Miss bought you ice-cream and you’re still hungry?” At that point I had intervene and using my teacher voice I had to say, “John, please stop licking the mini-bus,” words I never thought I would have to say.
Sugar and Spice
Teaching in a third world country definitely has its setbacks and frustrations. These past few months have been difficult, but I’m constantly reminded why I’m here. Sometimes it’s a random person stopping me on the street thanking me for being here or a student asking me to stay another year that keeps me going. It’s holding on to these little moments that makes it all worth while. Here are some examples to make you feel fuzzy inside too:
Student: Miss, you didn’t get to finish your lesson today
Me: I know. It’s because the (unsupervised) students in the other classes were so loud (that I had to go babysit them instead of doing my job and teaching you). I’m sorry.
Student: Will you teach us tomorrow?
Me: Well I don’t have your class tomorrow.
Student: Ok Miss, well thank you for teaching us Miss.
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There’s five minutes remaining in class before lunch break and not enough time to start the next activity.
Me: Class since you’ve been so well behaved today how do you guys feel about going to lunch 5 minutes early?
Student: No Miss, we want to keep on learning!
Me: Seriously? Raise your hand if you would rather keep learning.
Half the class raises their hands… and obviously the other half would rather go to lunch.
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Student: Miss, how long are you staying for?
Me: Just one year.
Student: You won’t forget us when you leave will you?
Me: Of course not!
Student: Ok, here’s what you’re going to do. You take a picture of us, then put it under your pillow so at night you can dream about us.
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Mother sitting across the street from school: Miss, my daughter wants to tell you something.
The mother urges her 7 year old daughter to talk to me.
Me: Hi. What did you want to say?
The shy girl smiles sweetly but refuses to talk.
Mother: Emily says she wants to grow up to be just like you.
Me: Oh really? That’s so sweet.
Mother: Yes, she says that she wants to grow up to be American.
Student: Miss, you didn’t get to finish your lesson today
Me: I know. It’s because the (unsupervised) students in the other classes were so loud (that I had to go babysit them instead of doing my job and teaching you). I’m sorry.
Student: Will you teach us tomorrow?
Me: Well I don’t have your class tomorrow.
Student: Ok Miss, well thank you for teaching us Miss.
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There’s five minutes remaining in class before lunch break and not enough time to start the next activity.
Me: Class since you’ve been so well behaved today how do you guys feel about going to lunch 5 minutes early?
Student: No Miss, we want to keep on learning!
Me: Seriously? Raise your hand if you would rather keep learning.
Half the class raises their hands… and obviously the other half would rather go to lunch.
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Student: Miss, how long are you staying for?
Me: Just one year.
Student: You won’t forget us when you leave will you?
Me: Of course not!
Student: Ok, here’s what you’re going to do. You take a picture of us, then put it under your pillow so at night you can dream about us.
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Mother sitting across the street from school: Miss, my daughter wants to tell you something.
The mother urges her 7 year old daughter to talk to me.
Me: Hi. What did you want to say?
The shy girl smiles sweetly but refuses to talk.
Mother: Emily says she wants to grow up to be just like you.
Me: Oh really? That’s so sweet.
Mother: Yes, she says that she wants to grow up to be American.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
School Pictures
My roommate’s family came to visit us recently. Nevermind that we didn’t have running water the entire time they were here, they still had a blast. Even better was that her mother brought her a camera so now I have some pictures to share. Enjoy.
This is Mother Pie, who sells snacks across the street from the school. She just poured Sprite into a plastic bag- that’s how they sell and drink it here. Mother Pie also likes to throw around the F-word in front of the children.
The school children are so precious. This is Troy from Form 2. Anyone want to adopt him? He always helps us sweep up the library. Actually we never sweep, we make the school children do it. We have a morning and afternoon cleaning rotation and the children have to be the janitors.
Meet some members of the football team (soccer). John, the kid in the middle, loves Beckham and carries a picture of him on his belt everywhere he goes.
The Form 5 boys sit 3 to a bench in class. Only Form 5 students get to wear ties. These are the class prefects- yes, just like in Harry Potter. Except they don’t set such a good example because they go around writing their names on the walls of the school building.
This is Mother Pie, who sells snacks across the street from the school. She just poured Sprite into a plastic bag- that’s how they sell and drink it here. Mother Pie also likes to throw around the F-word in front of the children. The school children are so precious. This is Troy from Form 2. Anyone want to adopt him? He always helps us sweep up the library. Actually we never sweep, we make the school children do it. We have a morning and afternoon cleaning rotation and the children have to be the janitors.Meet some members of the football team (soccer). John, the kid in the middle, loves Beckham and carries a picture of him on his belt everywhere he goes.The Form 5 boys sit 3 to a bench in class. Only Form 5 students get to wear ties. These are the class prefects- yes, just like in Harry Potter. Except they don’t set such a good example because they go around writing their names on the walls of the school building.
You've Got Mail
Recently we did a pen pal exchange with some 8th graders from the U.S. Since 8th graders in the U.S. write at a much higher level than the ones here, we took the brightest classes and asked them to respond. All the children were really excited to be writing to someone in the States and immediately wrote “I love you” in the center of big red hearts, including the boys. It was best friends forever in the making. Here are a few examples of the beginnings of a new found friendship:
Dear Best Friend,
My name is [student] I am a 12 year old and I am a boy. The instrument I would like to ploy is the drums we have tress and Animals some of the trees we have is coconut, oworer and Jamoon. Some of the Animol we have are snack, Donkey. I love to do moth what is your subject. I con speak Sponish. I am 12 year old. When are you writing the letter please send your oddress and your telephone number. My telephone xxx-xxxx. All you have to do is this 011-592-xxx-xxxx. Call me as soon as possible.
Your new best friend,
[student]
P.S. My name is [student] a.k.a. Juicy Big. I will be sending a Crismos card for you with my photo of me. Please send a card for me of your. Do you believe in Jesus. Tell me in your next letter. Are you Cristton yes or no? Bye.
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Dear Jecquine,
Hello, and how are you? My name is [student] and I am 12 years old. I live in Guyana. ! was born and raised here. It’s kind of crazy here too because in Georgetown buses on the park comes there to drop off passingers and collect other passingers and theres a lot of pushing and wildness when you get there. So let me tell you about myself. The school I attend is Soesdyke Community High School. At our school we have half day everyday because our school is overcrowded with children. My favourite subject is maths and English. I have six animals five dogs one kitten. My favourite hobbies are playing games with my cosins, swimming with my family, climing trees whit my cosins and playing hide and seek with them. We have as much stuff as you have in the United States. Thank you for writing me.
Sincerely your new best friend,
[student]
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Dear Student,
How are you. as for me I am fine. I have black and white eyes and black hiere and I have fear skin and I wear black boots [sneakers] and black socks and I wear green shirt and white vest [tank top] and cakey [khaki] pants. My father works a weedieg muchen [weeding machine] and my mother like to cook everyday. My father like to weed everyday. I like to play football and cricket and I like frie rice and macoronie. I love to play every night. My father like to weed every night.
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Dear Jack,
My name is [student]. I am a boy. I am 11 years old. In Guyana it have a lot of water a 2 waterfals it has a rainforis and a lot of animals like lion, snakes, monkeys, fish, shark and wimon. My favorite game is cricket. I no you dont now what is cricket does play with a ball, a bat, and two, wicket and I look after a farm I mine docks, chick, pigs and sheeps, I would like for you to come to Guyana and sea. Call me and you would no more about mor. Tel xxx-xxxx. Friend Good by.
Sincerely,
[student]
Dear Best Friend,
My name is [student] I am a 12 year old and I am a boy. The instrument I would like to ploy is the drums we have tress and Animals some of the trees we have is coconut, oworer and Jamoon. Some of the Animol we have are snack, Donkey. I love to do moth what is your subject. I con speak Sponish. I am 12 year old. When are you writing the letter please send your oddress and your telephone number. My telephone xxx-xxxx. All you have to do is this 011-592-xxx-xxxx. Call me as soon as possible.
Your new best friend,
[student]
P.S. My name is [student] a.k.a. Juicy Big. I will be sending a Crismos card for you with my photo of me. Please send a card for me of your. Do you believe in Jesus. Tell me in your next letter. Are you Cristton yes or no? Bye.
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Dear Jecquine,
Hello, and how are you? My name is [student] and I am 12 years old. I live in Guyana. ! was born and raised here. It’s kind of crazy here too because in Georgetown buses on the park comes there to drop off passingers and collect other passingers and theres a lot of pushing and wildness when you get there. So let me tell you about myself. The school I attend is Soesdyke Community High School. At our school we have half day everyday because our school is overcrowded with children. My favourite subject is maths and English. I have six animals five dogs one kitten. My favourite hobbies are playing games with my cosins, swimming with my family, climing trees whit my cosins and playing hide and seek with them. We have as much stuff as you have in the United States. Thank you for writing me.
Sincerely your new best friend,
[student]
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Dear Student,
How are you. as for me I am fine. I have black and white eyes and black hiere and I have fear skin and I wear black boots [sneakers] and black socks and I wear green shirt and white vest [tank top] and cakey [khaki] pants. My father works a weedieg muchen [weeding machine] and my mother like to cook everyday. My father like to weed everyday. I like to play football and cricket and I like frie rice and macoronie. I love to play every night. My father like to weed every night.
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Dear Jack,
My name is [student]. I am a boy. I am 11 years old. In Guyana it have a lot of water a 2 waterfals it has a rainforis and a lot of animals like lion, snakes, monkeys, fish, shark and wimon. My favorite game is cricket. I no you dont now what is cricket does play with a ball, a bat, and two, wicket and I look after a farm I mine docks, chick, pigs and sheeps, I would like for you to come to Guyana and sea. Call me and you would no more about mor. Tel xxx-xxxx. Friend Good by.
Sincerely,
[student]
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Signs
You Know You Teach at a Community High in a Third World Country When…
10. The head of department calls you in Friday afternoon and tells you that final exams will be next week and you need to turn in your test on Monday.
9. Final exams occur three weeks before school is out. During the last two weeks the children will not be doing anything.
8. The children throw their garbage out the window from the second story.
7. A student declares that she is attending a “cowboy school” since the children are “lawless.”
6. It rained in the morning and therefore school had to close early because all the teachers and students decided to stay home.
5. There is a lack of furniture in all the classes. The Headmaster walks into a chaotic classroom and tries to get the children’s attention by shouting, “Those who can be sit need to be seated.”
4. There is seldom running water at school and during a staff meeting a teacher announces that our school is the town pissery.
3. The head of your department comes into the back area of the school where your classes are held, sees the pandemonium, turns to you and says, “I wouldn’t teach here,” then walks off.
2. When you reprimand a child for doing something inappropriate, another child hands you a whip and requests that you lash the disobedient one.
1. You hear a teacher yell, “Hello?! Who gave you permission to jump out the window?”
10. The head of department calls you in Friday afternoon and tells you that final exams will be next week and you need to turn in your test on Monday.
9. Final exams occur three weeks before school is out. During the last two weeks the children will not be doing anything.
8. The children throw their garbage out the window from the second story.
7. A student declares that she is attending a “cowboy school” since the children are “lawless.”
6. It rained in the morning and therefore school had to close early because all the teachers and students decided to stay home.
5. There is a lack of furniture in all the classes. The Headmaster walks into a chaotic classroom and tries to get the children’s attention by shouting, “Those who can be sit need to be seated.”
4. There is seldom running water at school and during a staff meeting a teacher announces that our school is the town pissery.
3. The head of your department comes into the back area of the school where your classes are held, sees the pandemonium, turns to you and says, “I wouldn’t teach here,” then walks off.
2. When you reprimand a child for doing something inappropriate, another child hands you a whip and requests that you lash the disobedient one.
1. You hear a teacher yell, “Hello?! Who gave you permission to jump out the window?”
The Food Network-ing
In Guyana, many of the expatriates and prominent Guyanese citizens flock together. Once you meet one person, they introduce you to friends within their social network.
A couple months ago, I met an influential writer and consultant. He happened to know the Martha Stewart of Guyana (minus the litigious history and rumored malevolent nature) who has a program on national television called “Kayleigh's Kitchen.” The show is filmed straight from her magnificent kitchen and features guests who assist her with cooking. The best part about being a guest is that you get to eat all the food when she’s done cooking and all you really do is stand there and nod. The number of times you nod is proportionate to the amount of bites you get to have in the end.
This week Kayleigh needed guests on her show so our writer friend set us up with an appearance. It was such a special activity to be able to participate in. The kitchen was even nicer in real life than on TV, as was Kayleigh. While we were cooking I noticed two things that made the event so luxurious compared to cooking in our kitchen: 1) I was not sweating profusely, which would have made me a fat sweaty person on tv, which would have looked really shady being on a cooking show, 2) my legs were not being attacked by a million bugs and mosquitoes. I was also beside myself with joy when I used her bathroom and realized I didn’t have to fill up a bucket to flush the toilet.
During the filming of the show, I helped make homemade meatballs for the pasta, my roommate helped with the BBQ chicken pizza, and we all fixed ourselves a knickerbocker glory: a bowl of jello, fruit, ice cream, homemade whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and white chocolate shavings. It was heavenly.
Once we were done, the camera man promised to make us a copy of the program. It wasn’t until then that I realized the camera adds 10 pounds, which is exactly what I needed on a program showing me eating.
A couple months ago, I met an influential writer and consultant. He happened to know the Martha Stewart of Guyana (minus the litigious history and rumored malevolent nature) who has a program on national television called “Kayleigh's Kitchen.” The show is filmed straight from her magnificent kitchen and features guests who assist her with cooking. The best part about being a guest is that you get to eat all the food when she’s done cooking and all you really do is stand there and nod. The number of times you nod is proportionate to the amount of bites you get to have in the end.
This week Kayleigh needed guests on her show so our writer friend set us up with an appearance. It was such a special activity to be able to participate in. The kitchen was even nicer in real life than on TV, as was Kayleigh. While we were cooking I noticed two things that made the event so luxurious compared to cooking in our kitchen: 1) I was not sweating profusely, which would have made me a fat sweaty person on tv, which would have looked really shady being on a cooking show, 2) my legs were not being attacked by a million bugs and mosquitoes. I was also beside myself with joy when I used her bathroom and realized I didn’t have to fill up a bucket to flush the toilet.
During the filming of the show, I helped make homemade meatballs for the pasta, my roommate helped with the BBQ chicken pizza, and we all fixed ourselves a knickerbocker glory: a bowl of jello, fruit, ice cream, homemade whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and white chocolate shavings. It was heavenly.
Once we were done, the camera man promised to make us a copy of the program. It wasn’t until then that I realized the camera adds 10 pounds, which is exactly what I needed on a program showing me eating.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Addressing the Situation
Last week there was a staff meeting at 10 am. I was informed about it at 10:04 am. There was a very grave problem and we had to convene during class time in order to address it. It was the 9th week of school and apparently we did not know how many students were enrolled at the Community High. The registers were a complete mess with some students listed in two different classes and some students missing registration numbers. Everything had to be redone, starting from decorating the cover.
This week I was flipping through a couple revised registers and I couldn’t help but notice the (correct) postal addresses of some of these students. Following Guyanese fashion, the students live in the vaguest areas in the country, some with only the name of the village listed. I’m not quite sure how the Postman delivers them mail. Here’s a few addresses taken directly from the registers:
Fire Station Area, [Village]
Squatting Area, [Village]
First Hill, [Highway]
12 Docks Area, [Village]
Public Road, [Village]
Back Road, [Village]
157 Prison Area, [Village]
Plot 3, [Village]
This week I was flipping through a couple revised registers and I couldn’t help but notice the (correct) postal addresses of some of these students. Following Guyanese fashion, the students live in the vaguest areas in the country, some with only the name of the village listed. I’m not quite sure how the Postman delivers them mail. Here’s a few addresses taken directly from the registers:
Fire Station Area, [Village]
Squatting Area, [Village]
First Hill, [Highway]
12 Docks Area, [Village]
Public Road, [Village]
Back Road, [Village]
157 Prison Area, [Village]
Plot 3, [Village]
Animal House
Blogger's Note: My camera has been out of commission since Orientation when I allowed my Nalgene to leak all over it. (And it’s people like me that are responsible for educating the youth of Guyana.) However, I have been able to collect a few pictures from other volunteers, so here is a rare post with pictures. Enjoy.
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Unfortunately there will be no posts about monkeys breaking in my house and eating my food, but that is not to say there are a lack of animals and insects around my accommodation. Here is a list of a few unwelcome creatures that have decided to live with us, sorted by “Non-Terrorizing Creatures” and “Terrorizing Creatures”
Non-Terrorizing Creatures
Armies of Ants and Flies
Where to be found: Crawling or flying around our kitchen, over countertops, and on our food. The amount in our kitchen alone rival the total amount currently living in the state of Texas.
Worms
Where to be found: On my bed, out of the tap we bathe from, in our fruits and almost in our bellies.
Geckos
Where to be found: Crawling over the ceiling and often turning my pillow into its toilet. We’ve named him Ignatius.
Mosquitoes
Where to be found: Biting me
Live Creole Chicken
Where to be found: Brought over to our house by our neighbor. It was later stuffed into a rice bag and sealed shut. When questioned about the rice bag, the response was, “Because chicken goes with rice.”
Baby Sloth
Where to be found: Found on a tree and brought over to our house by our neighbor. I didn’t know what a sloth looked like until this point in my life.
Non-Terrorizing Creatures
Armies of Ants and Flies
Where to be found: Crawling or flying around our kitchen, over countertops, and on our food. The amount in our kitchen alone rival the total amount currently living in the state of Texas.
Worms
Where to be found: On my bed, out of the tap we bathe from, in our fruits and almost in our bellies.
Geckos
Where to be found: Crawling over the ceiling and often turning my pillow into its toilet. We’ve named him Ignatius.
Mosquitoes
Where to be found: Biting me
Live Creole Chicken
Where to be found: Brought over to our house by our neighbor. It was later stuffed into a rice bag and sealed shut. When questioned about the rice bag, the response was, “Because chicken goes with rice.”
Baby Sloth
Where to be found: Found on a tree and brought over to our house by our neighbor. I didn’t know what a sloth looked like until this point in my life.
I'm feeding Bam Bam delicious leaves. He ate more veggies that day than I did that week.
Birds
Where to be found: Flying in our house from outside and not leaving.
Terrorizing Creatures
Daddy Longlegs and other big scary spiders
Where to be found: Hanging out in the kitchen. Good thing I don’t have to compete with it for food.
Bats
Where to be found: Flying into our house and swooping around the living room. He doesn’t leave when you ask him to.
Roaches
Where to be found: Flying around the house. One crawled on my foot and now I’m going to have to burn it and come back to the states with only one leg.
Wasps and Bees
Where to be found: Buzzing through the house terrorizing us.
Here's a picture of a monkey for all those eager to see one. I met Jack at an Amerindian village, and similiar to the school children, he doesn't listen to you unless you have food in your hand.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Guy's Gone Wild
Once a year Guyana hosts GuyExpo, a huge exposition showcasing pretty much everything the country has to offer. Booths clustered under tents feature hand crafted products, eco-tourism education, furniture, electronics, and more. It’s a huge fair complete with booty-shaking concerts, exhilarating rides, fried foods, and booths giving away samples.
The exposition lasted 4 days and it was all anyone could talk about. I attended on Sunday with some volunteers, along with what seemed to be the rest of the country.
We walked around familiarizing ourselves with the grounds and snacking on free food along the way. At one crafter’s stand, we were looking at earrings made of out coconut shells and wood from the local trees. One of the volunteers had just purchased a pair and was showing me the intricate detailing, but couldn’t recall the name of the tree it originated from.
Volunteer: What tree is this?
Crafter: Dat’s five.
Volunteer: No, what tree did you say this is this from? Tree?
Crafter: Not tree hundred, dat’s five hundred.
Volunteer: Yes I know, I paid for it already. But what tree is made from?
Crafter: No, you pay five, not tree.
The back and forth continued a few more times before a Guyanese person said the word “tree” and the crafter understood our English.
The evening was spent eating delicious Guyanese food and drinks and enjoying the concert. By the time the exposition was over, there was a sea of empty beer bottles littered all over the grounds and obstructing the walkways. The remains of what looked like a landfill seemed more like artwork and evidence of a fabulously good time.
The exposition lasted 4 days and it was all anyone could talk about. I attended on Sunday with some volunteers, along with what seemed to be the rest of the country.
We walked around familiarizing ourselves with the grounds and snacking on free food along the way. At one crafter’s stand, we were looking at earrings made of out coconut shells and wood from the local trees. One of the volunteers had just purchased a pair and was showing me the intricate detailing, but couldn’t recall the name of the tree it originated from.
Volunteer: What tree is this?
Crafter: Dat’s five.
Volunteer: No, what tree did you say this is this from? Tree?
Crafter: Not tree hundred, dat’s five hundred.
Volunteer: Yes I know, I paid for it already. But what tree is made from?
Crafter: No, you pay five, not tree.
The back and forth continued a few more times before a Guyanese person said the word “tree” and the crafter understood our English.
The evening was spent eating delicious Guyanese food and drinks and enjoying the concert. By the time the exposition was over, there was a sea of empty beer bottles littered all over the grounds and obstructing the walkways. The remains of what looked like a landfill seemed more like artwork and evidence of a fabulously good time.
No Write Answers
I recently gave a mid-term test to my 8th graders about population and human resources. Of course many of them couldn’t write or spell something comprehensible. I think I may have them draw their answers on the next test. For the few that could write, these were some of the answers I got.
Question: Define human resources.
Correct Answer: The physical power and mental ability of the people
Student’s Answer: Human resourcs are people who are human resourcs.
Student’s Answer: Human resources are the thinks around you want you canot see
Student’s Answer: I am blak and you are wite so I am mo rich den you.
Question: What natural physical feature causes Guyana to be sparsely populated?
Correct Answer: The Rainforest
Student’s Answer: Me makes Guyanana density
Student’s Answer: All the killings
Student’s Answer: The chine (Chinese)
Student’s Answer: Because some of the people are black.
Question: What are two ways a population can grow?
Correct Answer: Through births or immigration
Student’s Answer: Talking to somebody and makeing frieinds
Student’s Answer: By people and trees
Student’s Answer: Two ways tha we can grow a population is by working together and plant
What three ethnic groups were brought to Guyana as indentured laborers?
Correct Answer: Portuguese, East Indians, Chinese
Student’s Answer: Indenmdent (Independence Day), May Day, and Laber Day
Question: What area in Guyana do the Amerindians mainly live?
Correct Answer: The interior
Student’s Answer: They live in Amerindia
Question: Define human resources.
Correct Answer: The physical power and mental ability of the people
Student’s Answer: Human resourcs are people who are human resourcs.
Student’s Answer: Human resources are the thinks around you want you canot see
Student’s Answer: I am blak and you are wite so I am mo rich den you.
Question: What natural physical feature causes Guyana to be sparsely populated?
Correct Answer: The Rainforest
Student’s Answer: Me makes Guyanana density
Student’s Answer: All the killings
Student’s Answer: The chine (Chinese)
Student’s Answer: Because some of the people are black.
Question: What are two ways a population can grow?
Correct Answer: Through births or immigration
Student’s Answer: Talking to somebody and makeing frieinds
Student’s Answer: By people and trees
Student’s Answer: Two ways tha we can grow a population is by working together and plant
What three ethnic groups were brought to Guyana as indentured laborers?
Correct Answer: Portuguese, East Indians, Chinese
Student’s Answer: Indenmdent (Independence Day), May Day, and Laber Day
Question: What area in Guyana do the Amerindians mainly live?
Correct Answer: The interior
Student’s Answer: They live in Amerindia
Friday, October 27, 2006
Ping Pong Conversations
Blogger's Note: So I usually don't do this, but I wanted to say Happy Birthday to William! William is a friendly guy who owns the internet cafe I frequent here in town. If it wasn't for William and his wonderful Oasis, you wouldn't be reading this. Thanks William for installing air conditioning and Happy Birthday!
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I’ve noticed that the Guyanese can be very ambiguous when speaking. Most of the time you’re not going to get the straight answer you were hoping for, which means a bit of a back and forth between both parties.
Ordering Food:
Me: What’s “C-pon” on your menu?
Snack Lady: That’s Cassava Pone
Me: Oh. What’s a Cassava Pone?
Snack Lady: It’s a pone made from cassava.
Ordering Drinks:
Thirsty Volunteer: Do you have Sprite?
Snack Lady: No
Volunteer: Oh, I really wanted Sprite. Do you have Diet Coke?
Snack Lady: No
Volunteer: What do you have?
Snack Lady lists 2-3 Guyanese soft drinks. Volunteer takes a minute to decide while trying to look behind the snack lady to see her options.
Volunteer: Wait. Is that 7-up back there?
Snack Lady: Yes. I have 7-up. Do you want that?
Getting Directions:
Me [sitting in the library chatting with students]: Where do you live?
Student #1 [without pointing or giving any kind of indication of direction]: Over so.
Me: Where?
Student #1: [points left]
Me [turning to the next student]: I see. And where do you live?
Student #2: [points right] Over so.
Getting More Directions:
Me: Where is Providence?
Guyanese Teacher: Near the police station.
Me: Where is the police station?
Guyanese Teacher: In Providence
Giving Directions:
Riding along the mini-bus I often look out the window to see that Guyana is predominately rainforest.
Passenger: Driver, please stop at the big tree.
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I’ve noticed that the Guyanese can be very ambiguous when speaking. Most of the time you’re not going to get the straight answer you were hoping for, which means a bit of a back and forth between both parties.
Ordering Food:
Me: What’s “C-pon” on your menu?
Snack Lady: That’s Cassava Pone
Me: Oh. What’s a Cassava Pone?
Snack Lady: It’s a pone made from cassava.
Ordering Drinks:
Thirsty Volunteer: Do you have Sprite?
Snack Lady: No
Volunteer: Oh, I really wanted Sprite. Do you have Diet Coke?
Snack Lady: No
Volunteer: What do you have?
Snack Lady lists 2-3 Guyanese soft drinks. Volunteer takes a minute to decide while trying to look behind the snack lady to see her options.
Volunteer: Wait. Is that 7-up back there?
Snack Lady: Yes. I have 7-up. Do you want that?
Getting Directions:
Me [sitting in the library chatting with students]: Where do you live?
Student #1 [without pointing or giving any kind of indication of direction]: Over so.
Me: Where?
Student #1: [points left]
Me [turning to the next student]: I see. And where do you live?
Student #2: [points right] Over so.
Getting More Directions:
Me: Where is Providence?
Guyanese Teacher: Near the police station.
Me: Where is the police station?
Guyanese Teacher: In Providence
Giving Directions:
Riding along the mini-bus I often look out the window to see that Guyana is predominately rainforest.
Passenger: Driver, please stop at the big tree.
Would You Light My Candle?
Diwali, the Festival of Lights, was observed this past Saturday. My day began with the downstairs neighbor’s kids lighting firecrackers at 7am right next to my window. They’re not even Hindu.
At 6pm, all the houses set out dayas (little tiny pots with oil and wicks) and lit them. The candles lining the verandas, sprinkled in front of the houses, and lighting up the steps were a magnificent sight. It was the night Guyana glowed.
We spent the evening visiting with a teacher who informed us that during Diwali all you do is eat. It’s now my new favorite holiday. She started by feeding us two plates each of delicious food such as coconut filled pastries, pancake-like balls, fried garlic mashed potato-like balls, and many other appetizing snacks. Once we were thoroughly stuffed, we went for a walk to enjoy the lights around the neighborhood.
It was a festive night. A herd of children came charging toward us screaming and laughing while one swung flaming steel wool showering beautiful sparks all around. We played with sparklers and, for a while, got to act like children and swing the steel wool as ourselves.
As we walked along the streets, we picked up more food. It was like Halloween except we got bags of delicious homemade food instead of tiny pieces of store bought candy. We stopped by a neighbor’s house who invited us in for 7 Curry. Although we were already full from the snacks, we couldn’t resist the curry and ended up eating until we felt like exploding. And when we couldn’t eat another bite, they gave us sweet rice for dessert.
After all the juice they provided us, I had to use the bathroom. On our way home I asked the teacher friend if I could use hers. She led me into the back outhouse, opened the door and told me to go on the flat concrete floor. I was taken aback since there was no drain, no working pipe, not even a hole in the ground, just flat concrete. I asked if she had a toilet and she informed me that my only other option was the go in the bush. I was not warned about houses with no toilets during orientation. With a full bladder and seeing as my only option was to go in my pants or in the dark concrete room, I hesitantly chose the room.
The night ended up being enjoyable and light-hearted, but I will forever remember it as the night I gained 10 pounds in 4 hours then peed on my leg.
At 6pm, all the houses set out dayas (little tiny pots with oil and wicks) and lit them. The candles lining the verandas, sprinkled in front of the houses, and lighting up the steps were a magnificent sight. It was the night Guyana glowed.
We spent the evening visiting with a teacher who informed us that during Diwali all you do is eat. It’s now my new favorite holiday. She started by feeding us two plates each of delicious food such as coconut filled pastries, pancake-like balls, fried garlic mashed potato-like balls, and many other appetizing snacks. Once we were thoroughly stuffed, we went for a walk to enjoy the lights around the neighborhood.
It was a festive night. A herd of children came charging toward us screaming and laughing while one swung flaming steel wool showering beautiful sparks all around. We played with sparklers and, for a while, got to act like children and swing the steel wool as ourselves.
As we walked along the streets, we picked up more food. It was like Halloween except we got bags of delicious homemade food instead of tiny pieces of store bought candy. We stopped by a neighbor’s house who invited us in for 7 Curry. Although we were already full from the snacks, we couldn’t resist the curry and ended up eating until we felt like exploding. And when we couldn’t eat another bite, they gave us sweet rice for dessert.
After all the juice they provided us, I had to use the bathroom. On our way home I asked the teacher friend if I could use hers. She led me into the back outhouse, opened the door and told me to go on the flat concrete floor. I was taken aback since there was no drain, no working pipe, not even a hole in the ground, just flat concrete. I asked if she had a toilet and she informed me that my only other option was the go in the bush. I was not warned about houses with no toilets during orientation. With a full bladder and seeing as my only option was to go in my pants or in the dark concrete room, I hesitantly chose the room.
The night ended up being enjoyable and light-hearted, but I will forever remember it as the night I gained 10 pounds in 4 hours then peed on my leg.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Monsters.com
Job Description: Looking for an energetic babysitter for 200 cute little monsters ages 12-13. Your primary responsibility is to oversee a group of 40 students at one time, but you also must be able to manage the remaining 160 students in your room while other babysitters sit around in the next room doing nothing. Ability to tolerate extreme heat is critical. Previous experience working inside a sauna or cleaning hot ovens will be helpful.
The listening impaired are encouraged to apply as noise levels within the classroom will sound muted.
The rare talent of understanding the children mumbling Creolese will be beneficial. Actors are encouraged to apply.
If you are over the age of 19, you must be married or else the children will think there is something wrong with you.
If you are Asian, you must know Kung-Fu because the children will ask you to demonstrate.
If you are a female, you must have long hair or else the children will ask you to grow it out.
Additional responsibilities may include being a nurse to patch up students’ cuts, being able to provide school supplies for students who can’t afford them or constantly lose them, and being a Blockbuster Video for the kids downstairs that ask you every day to borrow the same 3 DVDs.
Teaching students Social Studies and Reading is a plus, but not necessary. Resources are extremely limited and you will not find any suitable content in the textbook given to you. Ability to recall Jeopardy answers will be helpful.
Qualifications: English literacy
Salary: $225 US a month*
*Disclaimer: There is no guarantee you will get paid the first few months while the Ministry of Education shuffles around paperwork.
The listening impaired are encouraged to apply as noise levels within the classroom will sound muted.
The rare talent of understanding the children mumbling Creolese will be beneficial. Actors are encouraged to apply.
If you are over the age of 19, you must be married or else the children will think there is something wrong with you.
If you are Asian, you must know Kung-Fu because the children will ask you to demonstrate.
If you are a female, you must have long hair or else the children will ask you to grow it out.
Additional responsibilities may include being a nurse to patch up students’ cuts, being able to provide school supplies for students who can’t afford them or constantly lose them, and being a Blockbuster Video for the kids downstairs that ask you every day to borrow the same 3 DVDs.
Teaching students Social Studies and Reading is a plus, but not necessary. Resources are extremely limited and you will not find any suitable content in the textbook given to you. Ability to recall Jeopardy answers will be helpful.
Qualifications: English literacy
Salary: $225 US a month*
*Disclaimer: There is no guarantee you will get paid the first few months while the Ministry of Education shuffles around paperwork.
Fattie Fattie 2x4
World Food Day was this past Monday. They had a whole day celebrating the thing I love the most. We were able to take the students to partake in the event as a nice little field trip.
Based on its name, I foolishly assumed there would be a variety of food available. There wasn’t. There weren’t even any snacks until after 1pm. The children just ran around the park looking at booths educating them on how to grow vegetables and raise farm animals. Ok fine, really the kids just ran off the park grounds and ate at a Chinese Restaurant down the street. There was also supposed to be an assembly with speakers from Ministry at 12pm. When I had left at 4:30pm it still hadn’t started. Guyanese Time.
Even though we didn’t have any food at World Food Day, I’m still going to write about it. The Guyanese diet is very carbohydrate heavy. It’s contributed to a little weight gain here, hence a few fat comments from the locals. During some afternoons we experiment with our cooking and once made fried plantains with a sugary brown dessert sauce. It was so good I stuck my face in the pot to clean off the leftovers. It was more exciting than World Food Day. I also said I would become vegetarian in Guyana…well that ended about 3 hours after I got off the plane. Let’s talk food now. Here's a list of some of my favorite foods in Guyana thus far.
- 7 Curry- 7 different types of curries ladled over rice. 7 times the goodness.
- Pouri (little fried bread balls) and Channa (seasoned chickpeas) given to you in a small plastic baggie for $0.10. Is it inappropriate to buy 100 bags?
- Chicken foot- It’s not what you’re thinking. It’s actually this garlic tortilla-like snack cut into strips and fried.
- Solara - Kind of like a cinnamon roll, minus the cinnamon and add some red dyed coconut shavings instead. It’s really yummy.
- Egg ball/Meatball- Hard boiled egg or seasoned ground beef wrapped in a fried cassava (potato-like vegetable root). Eat with sour, a spicy mango sauce. Not for the weak.
- Rastafarian Meals- Vegetarian meal supposedly cooked with no or little oil. Doesn’t sound appetizing to all you carnivores? Well it’s delicious. I had rice with Edoe leaf (tastes like spinach) and curried potatoes.
- Bake- Sweet airy fried dough. Mmmmm…..Eat as a meal with a fried egg or salt fish.
- Brazilian Dinners- Yes, I realize this isn’t Guyanese food, but it’s all you can eat for $7 and it was delicious and meaty.
- Roti and Curry made by Auntie Jean- Our landlord’s wife came over and showed us how to make roti (a fluffy thick tortilla) and chicken curry from scratch.
- Cook up- Rice with coconut milk, beans, and some other spices. Most people add chicken or beef to the dish.
Based on its name, I foolishly assumed there would be a variety of food available. There wasn’t. There weren’t even any snacks until after 1pm. The children just ran around the park looking at booths educating them on how to grow vegetables and raise farm animals. Ok fine, really the kids just ran off the park grounds and ate at a Chinese Restaurant down the street. There was also supposed to be an assembly with speakers from Ministry at 12pm. When I had left at 4:30pm it still hadn’t started. Guyanese Time.
Even though we didn’t have any food at World Food Day, I’m still going to write about it. The Guyanese diet is very carbohydrate heavy. It’s contributed to a little weight gain here, hence a few fat comments from the locals. During some afternoons we experiment with our cooking and once made fried plantains with a sugary brown dessert sauce. It was so good I stuck my face in the pot to clean off the leftovers. It was more exciting than World Food Day. I also said I would become vegetarian in Guyana…well that ended about 3 hours after I got off the plane. Let’s talk food now. Here's a list of some of my favorite foods in Guyana thus far.
- 7 Curry- 7 different types of curries ladled over rice. 7 times the goodness.
- Pouri (little fried bread balls) and Channa (seasoned chickpeas) given to you in a small plastic baggie for $0.10. Is it inappropriate to buy 100 bags?
- Chicken foot- It’s not what you’re thinking. It’s actually this garlic tortilla-like snack cut into strips and fried.
- Solara - Kind of like a cinnamon roll, minus the cinnamon and add some red dyed coconut shavings instead. It’s really yummy.
- Egg ball/Meatball- Hard boiled egg or seasoned ground beef wrapped in a fried cassava (potato-like vegetable root). Eat with sour, a spicy mango sauce. Not for the weak.
- Rastafarian Meals- Vegetarian meal supposedly cooked with no or little oil. Doesn’t sound appetizing to all you carnivores? Well it’s delicious. I had rice with Edoe leaf (tastes like spinach) and curried potatoes.
- Bake- Sweet airy fried dough. Mmmmm…..Eat as a meal with a fried egg or salt fish.
- Brazilian Dinners- Yes, I realize this isn’t Guyanese food, but it’s all you can eat for $7 and it was delicious and meaty.
- Roti and Curry made by Auntie Jean- Our landlord’s wife came over and showed us how to make roti (a fluffy thick tortilla) and chicken curry from scratch.
- Cook up- Rice with coconut milk, beans, and some other spices. Most people add chicken or beef to the dish.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Playing With Fire
My first Guyanese fire drill experience started at 10 am when a teacher walked up and down the school hallway ringing a bell. Students energetically shout “Fire! Fire!” and stampeded out the doorway. Many of them kept running until they got home.
As a result, in my afternoon class only 7 of 44 the students were present. Frustrated at the rampant truancy, I asked my condensed class why everyone thought it was ok to skip school.
“It’s just the Guyanese way, Miss. You just have to get used to it.”
“Well then I don’t know why I even come to teach when no one ever shows up. I should just stay home.”
“Alright Miss. If you want, I can sign you in everyday.”
As a result, in my afternoon class only 7 of 44 the students were present. Frustrated at the rampant truancy, I asked my condensed class why everyone thought it was ok to skip school.
“It’s just the Guyanese way, Miss. You just have to get used to it.”
“Well then I don’t know why I even come to teach when no one ever shows up. I should just stay home.”
“Alright Miss. If you want, I can sign you in everyday.”
Two Timing
There are two different times that people generally run on: 1) on time and 2) Guyanese Standard Time. There are two different approaches when running on GST. People here are either too laid back and have no concept of time or too impatient and have no concept of time. Here are a few times the Guyanese have chosen to run on their own time.
Monday 8:45am
Teachers are supposed to arrive at school at 8:15am. School is supposed to begin at 8:30 am. Teachers and students are waiting outside the locked school.
Headmaster walks onto the school compound: Good morning! I didn’t know I had the key with me this morning.
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Tuesday 3:45pm
Landlord’s wife: I received your light bill on Saturday and it’s due today.
Me: What? Today?
Landlord’s wife: Yes, you must pay it today or else your light will be cut off. Then you have to pay an extra $3000 (Guyanese dollars) to get it turned on again. You can go to the Western Union tomorrow morning at 8am to make the payment.
Me: But if I go tomorrow morning will my electricity be cut off?
Landlord’s wife: Yes, probably so. But you can go tomorrow. It’s no problem.
Me: Well what time does it close today? Can I go now?
Landlord’s wife: It closes at 4:30. You’ll need to collect your money and bring it over there. But you can pay tomorrow morning on your way to school.
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Monday 5:50pm
Neighbor: Hi! I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I’m applying for a job and I need a recommendation. Would you write one for me?
Me: Oh of course. When do you need it by?
Neighbor: Well I’ll need to have it printed out and bring it to them early tomorrow morning. The internet place closes at 7pm. Can you have it done before 7?
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Tuesday 5:30 pm
There’s an alarming banging against my front door. I’m startled, and rush to my room to change into something more appropriate. The tempo of the knock continues faster and begins to mimic my heart rate. The knocking turns into a pounding as if there is a huge emergency.
I open the door and my downstairs neighbor is standing there. “Hi,” she says, “Can I have some food?” I’m caught off guard and look at her quizzically. “Just a joke. I want to use your phone to call my sister.”
Monday 8:45am
Teachers are supposed to arrive at school at 8:15am. School is supposed to begin at 8:30 am. Teachers and students are waiting outside the locked school.
Headmaster walks onto the school compound: Good morning! I didn’t know I had the key with me this morning.
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Tuesday 3:45pm
Landlord’s wife: I received your light bill on Saturday and it’s due today.
Me: What? Today?
Landlord’s wife: Yes, you must pay it today or else your light will be cut off. Then you have to pay an extra $3000 (Guyanese dollars) to get it turned on again. You can go to the Western Union tomorrow morning at 8am to make the payment.
Me: But if I go tomorrow morning will my electricity be cut off?
Landlord’s wife: Yes, probably so. But you can go tomorrow. It’s no problem.
Me: Well what time does it close today? Can I go now?
Landlord’s wife: It closes at 4:30. You’ll need to collect your money and bring it over there. But you can pay tomorrow morning on your way to school.
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Monday 5:50pm
Neighbor: Hi! I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I’m applying for a job and I need a recommendation. Would you write one for me?
Me: Oh of course. When do you need it by?
Neighbor: Well I’ll need to have it printed out and bring it to them early tomorrow morning. The internet place closes at 7pm. Can you have it done before 7?
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Tuesday 5:30 pm
There’s an alarming banging against my front door. I’m startled, and rush to my room to change into something more appropriate. The tempo of the knock continues faster and begins to mimic my heart rate. The knocking turns into a pounding as if there is a huge emergency.
I open the door and my downstairs neighbor is standing there. “Hi,” she says, “Can I have some food?” I’m caught off guard and look at her quizzically. “Just a joke. I want to use your phone to call my sister.”
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Sports Complex-ities
Sports Week commenced on Monday with absolutely no teaching or learning. The school was divided into 3 houses named after past Headmasters: Jacobs House, Williams House, and Vickery House. Each House included students from all five forms competing for the school title, just like in Harry Potter. We even have prefects that monitor the students on a regular basis, just like Harry Potter. The only difference is instead of walking around waving wands at each other, the students here walk around whipping rags at each other.
On Friday we had the Inter-House Championship Games. The entire day was completely disorganized, much like the former part of the week. The opening ceremony kicked off with the students grouped by house lined up behind a banner marching to the beat of “Who will win? [Insert house affiliation here]!” It was the most school spirit I had seen from these students. I almost didn’t recognize these kids they were so behaved and obedient. Kids can be so complex.
The track events began with the 1500 meter boys race. Students were running barefoot out in the hot sand track. Apparently having clean shoes is more important than stepping on rocks and cutting your foot open or getting chiggers or hepatitis. A few students started the first lap then gave up and started walking. Another few ran for two laps, then off into the bleachers. I asked a student from my house why ran off the track. He candidly replied that the sand was too hot for his feet so he didn’t feel like running anymore.
It made me so proud seeing my students run like little speedracers and so pleased to see the accomplished looks on their faces after winning. Some of these kids have such great athletic ability, but I guess they’ve also had plenty of practice running away from me whenever I call for them.
True to the Guyanese misunderstanding of time, Sports Week is scheduled to continue next week with field events.
On Friday we had the Inter-House Championship Games. The entire day was completely disorganized, much like the former part of the week. The opening ceremony kicked off with the students grouped by house lined up behind a banner marching to the beat of “Who will win? [Insert house affiliation here]!” It was the most school spirit I had seen from these students. I almost didn’t recognize these kids they were so behaved and obedient. Kids can be so complex.
The track events began with the 1500 meter boys race. Students were running barefoot out in the hot sand track. Apparently having clean shoes is more important than stepping on rocks and cutting your foot open or getting chiggers or hepatitis. A few students started the first lap then gave up and started walking. Another few ran for two laps, then off into the bleachers. I asked a student from my house why ran off the track. He candidly replied that the sand was too hot for his feet so he didn’t feel like running anymore.
It made me so proud seeing my students run like little speedracers and so pleased to see the accomplished looks on their faces after winning. Some of these kids have such great athletic ability, but I guess they’ve also had plenty of practice running away from me whenever I call for them.
True to the Guyanese misunderstanding of time, Sports Week is scheduled to continue next week with field events.
Amerindian Heritage Month
Last weekend marked the end of Amerindian Heritage month. To celebrate, we attended a festival in the Amerindian village of St. Cuthbert.
We left at 7am on the back of a 4 wheel drive pick-up truck crammed with 13 people sitting on wooden planks held up by crates. We drove up the Linden-Soesdyke Highway for about 20 minutes before turning off into a narrow inconspicuous dirt road for another hour through the forest.
The dirt road quickly turned into a bumpy sandy road, which made it seem like a roller coaster ride with no seat belts or guard rails and no one to sue if you fall out. At one point the sand was so uneven that the truck was driving at a 30 degree angle. Occasionally a few passengers popped out of their seats from speeding over the jagged terrain. Seeing this forced the rest of us to grip tightly on the side of the truck, only letting go to tuck in our exposed arms from the outstretched tree branches.
Shortly after we arrived at the village, it started to downpour. This turned out to be a blessing because it kept the rest of the day cloudy and cool. We spent the day meeting people from the village, volunteers from a UK organization, and other white people. An intoxicated Amerindian man gave me a wooden sculpture he carved of an indigenous god who’s supposed to bring me peace. I would like him to give one to each one of the students in my school. We drank and danced. We were fed until our bellies protruded and we couldn’t eat anymore. I tried a soup with pieces of chicken feet in it, but passed on the maggots (a delicacy in the village).
Since the village had no electricity, we let the sun dictate our day and left shortly before dusk. Due to the long bumpy ride and some beverage consumption, one of the passengers couldn’t take it anymore. He knocked on the side of the truck three times signaling for the driver to stop. Then two men and a woman hopped off the truck and peed on the side of the sand road. The rest of us sat awkwardly in the back of the truck not knowing where to look except up.
We continued our drive back and it was now dark. The road was narrow and trees were a foot from either side of us with the thick branches hovering right above our heads creating a tunnel. The wind was cool against our skin, the speed of the truck was invigorating, and the landscape illuminated by the truck’s headlights was picturesque. I felt like I was traveling through a cave of trees; it was surreal. As we sped down the trail, I felt completely liberated from all the frustrations and annoyances of that week.
We left at 7am on the back of a 4 wheel drive pick-up truck crammed with 13 people sitting on wooden planks held up by crates. We drove up the Linden-Soesdyke Highway for about 20 minutes before turning off into a narrow inconspicuous dirt road for another hour through the forest.
The dirt road quickly turned into a bumpy sandy road, which made it seem like a roller coaster ride with no seat belts or guard rails and no one to sue if you fall out. At one point the sand was so uneven that the truck was driving at a 30 degree angle. Occasionally a few passengers popped out of their seats from speeding over the jagged terrain. Seeing this forced the rest of us to grip tightly on the side of the truck, only letting go to tuck in our exposed arms from the outstretched tree branches.
Shortly after we arrived at the village, it started to downpour. This turned out to be a blessing because it kept the rest of the day cloudy and cool. We spent the day meeting people from the village, volunteers from a UK organization, and other white people. An intoxicated Amerindian man gave me a wooden sculpture he carved of an indigenous god who’s supposed to bring me peace. I would like him to give one to each one of the students in my school. We drank and danced. We were fed until our bellies protruded and we couldn’t eat anymore. I tried a soup with pieces of chicken feet in it, but passed on the maggots (a delicacy in the village).
Since the village had no electricity, we let the sun dictate our day and left shortly before dusk. Due to the long bumpy ride and some beverage consumption, one of the passengers couldn’t take it anymore. He knocked on the side of the truck three times signaling for the driver to stop. Then two men and a woman hopped off the truck and peed on the side of the sand road. The rest of us sat awkwardly in the back of the truck not knowing where to look except up.
We continued our drive back and it was now dark. The road was narrow and trees were a foot from either side of us with the thick branches hovering right above our heads creating a tunnel. The wind was cool against our skin, the speed of the truck was invigorating, and the landscape illuminated by the truck’s headlights was picturesque. I felt like I was traveling through a cave of trees; it was surreal. As we sped down the trail, I felt completely liberated from all the frustrations and annoyances of that week.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Lost in Translation
Blogger's Note: For those once weekly readers, there are three posts for your reading pleasure. I was able to get to the internet in the middle of the week for an update.
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There are some phrases in English that carry a different meaning to those in US than those in Guyana. I’ve compiled a list of a few things that we’re used to saying that might translate a little differently here.
“Don’t leave home without it”
In the US it means- your credit card
In Guyana it means- your hand sanitizer
“Don’t let the bed bugs bite”
In the US it means- sleep well
In Guyana it means- brush off any bugs from your mattress, light a mosquito coil, spray Deet on yourself, and pull the mosquito net over you before you go to sleep
“Rain shower”
In the US it means- a mild rain storm
In Guyana it means- take your soap and shampoo outside and get to cleaning
“I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine”
In the US it means- I’ll do a favor for you in return for a one
In Guyana it means- I’ll itch the mosquito bites on your back if you’ll do the same in return
“Don’t sweat it”
In the US it means- don’t worry about it
In Guyana it means- don’t let your constant sweat drip on the students’ papers you’re grading
“Cruel and unusual punishment”
In the US it means- what our forefathers vowed in the Constitution that we would not have to endure
In Guyana it means- spending all morning under the hot sun hand washing a bucket full of jeans, towels and bed sheets, wringing the heavy cloth dry, hanging them out on the line only to have it rain.
“Your way, right away”
In the US it means- A common customer service motto originating from a fast food chain’s promise to make your burger the way you like it immediately
In Guyana it means- Does not compute
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There are some phrases in English that carry a different meaning to those in US than those in Guyana. I’ve compiled a list of a few things that we’re used to saying that might translate a little differently here.
“Don’t leave home without it”
In the US it means- your credit card
In Guyana it means- your hand sanitizer
“Don’t let the bed bugs bite”
In the US it means- sleep well
In Guyana it means- brush off any bugs from your mattress, light a mosquito coil, spray Deet on yourself, and pull the mosquito net over you before you go to sleep
“Rain shower”
In the US it means- a mild rain storm
In Guyana it means- take your soap and shampoo outside and get to cleaning
“I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine”
In the US it means- I’ll do a favor for you in return for a one
In Guyana it means- I’ll itch the mosquito bites on your back if you’ll do the same in return
“Don’t sweat it”
In the US it means- don’t worry about it
In Guyana it means- don’t let your constant sweat drip on the students’ papers you’re grading
“Cruel and unusual punishment”
In the US it means- what our forefathers vowed in the Constitution that we would not have to endure
In Guyana it means- spending all morning under the hot sun hand washing a bucket full of jeans, towels and bed sheets, wringing the heavy cloth dry, hanging them out on the line only to have it rain.
“Your way, right away”
In the US it means- A common customer service motto originating from a fast food chain’s promise to make your burger the way you like it immediately
In Guyana it means- Does not compute
Learning Something New Everyday
The way the education system works in Guyana is students grades 1-6 attend Primary School. To move forward they take an entrance exam which places them in a certain range of Secondary Schools (grades 7-11). Many students in Secondary School write at an American 2nd grade level. If a student fails the entrance exam, they attend a Community High School. These students tend to have more behavior problems. Most of them can’t read or write, but keep getting passed onto the next grade. Many of them can’t even correctly copy something from the board.
I teach at a Community High. (Yes, I’m quite brave.) The children at my school are monkeys and they’ve turned the school building into their circus. I tell them that everyday. A typical day is filled with a roller coaster of emotions: anger at their egregious conduct and audacious attitude, sadness from their poor school and home environment, frustration with the education system and that learning is not occurring, and delight by the way some of them brighten your day with their generosity or consideration.
Before I came here, I thought it would be nice if I could help/teach/change/motivate/inspire one student a day. Clearly I was being very foolish and overzealous. I’ve created a new math equation to help me calculate what a reasonable goal would be instead.
1 student a day
x 200 days of school (approximately)
- 20 days of doing nothing because there was no class schedule
- 82 days wasted managing behavior issues
- 44 days when students decide not to show up or randomly leave school without permission
- 9 days on the calendar for “final exams” but actually doing nothing
- 27 days the students randomly leave for “athletics” even though they aren’t on a sports team
- 7 days of not teaching for unannounced staff meetings that take place during school hours
- 10 days of not teaching set aside for “Sports Week” but lasts longer than 5 days
= 1 student
Out of all 200 students I have, touching one student’s life this entire year is a much more reasonable and attainable goal. I still have a lot of work to do.
It’s a month into school and we just got our class schedules this week. Oh, and I also found out I’m going to be teaching Reading as well as Social Studies.
I teach at a Community High. (Yes, I’m quite brave.) The children at my school are monkeys and they’ve turned the school building into their circus. I tell them that everyday. A typical day is filled with a roller coaster of emotions: anger at their egregious conduct and audacious attitude, sadness from their poor school and home environment, frustration with the education system and that learning is not occurring, and delight by the way some of them brighten your day with their generosity or consideration.
Before I came here, I thought it would be nice if I could help/teach/change/motivate/inspire one student a day. Clearly I was being very foolish and overzealous. I’ve created a new math equation to help me calculate what a reasonable goal would be instead.
1 student a day
x 200 days of school (approximately)
- 20 days of doing nothing because there was no class schedule
- 82 days wasted managing behavior issues
- 44 days when students decide not to show up or randomly leave school without permission
- 9 days on the calendar for “final exams” but actually doing nothing
- 27 days the students randomly leave for “athletics” even though they aren’t on a sports team
- 7 days of not teaching for unannounced staff meetings that take place during school hours
- 10 days of not teaching set aside for “Sports Week” but lasts longer than 5 days
= 1 student
Out of all 200 students I have, touching one student’s life this entire year is a much more reasonable and attainable goal. I still have a lot of work to do.
It’s a month into school and we just got our class schedules this week. Oh, and I also found out I’m going to be teaching Reading as well as Social Studies.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
The Post Game Report
Blogger's Note: Since this is a mid-week post there will only be one. I'll post two more this weekend.
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Two weeks ago I mentioned how impossible it is to maneuver the postal system in Guyana. Well after a few more obstacles, I’ve finally scored my package from the impenetrable Guyanese Postal Services. It was done with a good solid fight from the Post Office and many offenses made to me.
Monday Night
I receive a call from my Field Director saying that she received the package slip and since she was already going to the post office she would (as a favor this time only) go ahead and pick it up for me. We planned to meet in town after school on Tuesday. Sadly, receiving a big brown box was going to be the highlight of my week. I was so excited I couldn't sleep at night.
Score: Yvonne-0, Post Office- 16
Tuesday After School
My Field Director goes to the post office with my package slip in hand. She asks to pick up a package under my name, in care of [Ms. Field Director]. The Post Office goes on defense.
Postal Worker: Your name is not Yvonne. You cannot pick up the package.
Field Director: But it says c/o. That stands for “care of” which means I can pick up the package for her.
Postal Worker: No. She has to pick it up herself.
Field Director: But you see, my name is also on the package under “care of”, which means I can pick it up as well.
This match continues for 15 tedious minutes.
Postal Worker: Fine! I will let you pick up her package. But you will have to come back tomorrow morning because there is a bomb threat and we’re shutting down the Post Office.
Apparently bomb threats occur quite often. I wonder why.
Score: Yvonne-0, Post Office- 19
Wednesday Morning
I go into town bright and early for another attempt at the Post Office. There is no line, just a huddle of people gathered around a window waving their package slips at a postal worker. I hand in my slip and wait 15 minutes for them to retrieve it. Then the package sits there for another 15 minutes as the postal workers stand around taking time outs as they please. I’m never getting a break with this.
A woman approaches me and asks if I was here two Saturdays ago. I confirm she's correct and she tells me I’m being awfully quiet today. She searches for my package. I see it underneath a pile of boxes. She finds it then flagrantly walks away. That was foul, but apparently they get to just make up the rules as they go along.
15 minutes later they rip open my package and fumble through it like it’s a Barney’s sale. After emptying out the contents of my package it sits there for another 15 minutes. A woman comes around, shoves my belongings back in the box, then haphazardly tapes it back together. She writes down all the information from my package slip, attaches a random value for its contents, and tells me to advance to the next window to pay a customs fee.
At the next window the woman writes down all the information over again from my package slip. I pay and she asks me to go to the next window.
At the next window I can pick up package after the woman writes down all the information from my package slip again. Their strategy is clearly to run down the time on the clock.
Postal Worker: Sign here.
I sign my name
Postal Worker: I can’t read that! That’s scratch!
Me: But that’s my signature.
Postal Worker: Well write it out. Here and then here again.
After over an hour at the post office and a month of waiting, I finally score my package. (Thanks Mom! I love you!)
Final Score: Yvonne- 1 Post Office-24
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Two weeks ago I mentioned how impossible it is to maneuver the postal system in Guyana. Well after a few more obstacles, I’ve finally scored my package from the impenetrable Guyanese Postal Services. It was done with a good solid fight from the Post Office and many offenses made to me.
Monday Night
I receive a call from my Field Director saying that she received the package slip and since she was already going to the post office she would (as a favor this time only) go ahead and pick it up for me. We planned to meet in town after school on Tuesday. Sadly, receiving a big brown box was going to be the highlight of my week. I was so excited I couldn't sleep at night.
Score: Yvonne-0, Post Office- 16
Tuesday After School
My Field Director goes to the post office with my package slip in hand. She asks to pick up a package under my name, in care of [Ms. Field Director]. The Post Office goes on defense.
Postal Worker: Your name is not Yvonne. You cannot pick up the package.
Field Director: But it says c/o. That stands for “care of” which means I can pick up the package for her.
Postal Worker: No. She has to pick it up herself.
Field Director: But you see, my name is also on the package under “care of”, which means I can pick it up as well.
This match continues for 15 tedious minutes.
Postal Worker: Fine! I will let you pick up her package. But you will have to come back tomorrow morning because there is a bomb threat and we’re shutting down the Post Office.
Apparently bomb threats occur quite often. I wonder why.
Score: Yvonne-0, Post Office- 19
Wednesday Morning
I go into town bright and early for another attempt at the Post Office. There is no line, just a huddle of people gathered around a window waving their package slips at a postal worker. I hand in my slip and wait 15 minutes for them to retrieve it. Then the package sits there for another 15 minutes as the postal workers stand around taking time outs as they please. I’m never getting a break with this.
A woman approaches me and asks if I was here two Saturdays ago. I confirm she's correct and she tells me I’m being awfully quiet today. She searches for my package. I see it underneath a pile of boxes. She finds it then flagrantly walks away. That was foul, but apparently they get to just make up the rules as they go along.
15 minutes later they rip open my package and fumble through it like it’s a Barney’s sale. After emptying out the contents of my package it sits there for another 15 minutes. A woman comes around, shoves my belongings back in the box, then haphazardly tapes it back together. She writes down all the information from my package slip, attaches a random value for its contents, and tells me to advance to the next window to pay a customs fee.
At the next window the woman writes down all the information over again from my package slip. I pay and she asks me to go to the next window.
At the next window I can pick up package after the woman writes down all the information from my package slip again. Their strategy is clearly to run down the time on the clock.
Postal Worker: Sign here.
I sign my name
Postal Worker: I can’t read that! That’s scratch!
Me: But that’s my signature.
Postal Worker: Well write it out. Here and then here again.
After over an hour at the post office and a month of waiting, I finally score my package. (Thanks Mom! I love you!)
Final Score: Yvonne- 1 Post Office-24
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Choose Your Own Guyanese Adventure
From now on I think I'll keep up the two posts at a time. So unless otherwise specified, please scroll down when you’re done reading the first post to enjoy some more Guyanese fun.
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I’ve been writing so much about my adventures here in Guyana that I felt like it’s time the readers gave some input. So, I’ve decided to let you guys choose your own adventure. Fun! Now select wisely and you’re on your way to your very own Guyanese adventure.
It’s 5:30 am and the sun has started peeking over the horizon. You are awakened by the sound of:
a) The neighbor’s dogs barking and the roosters crowing.
b) The offensive blaring sound of Indian music exploding from your neighbor 4 houses away, but actually sounds like they set up the stereo system on your pillow.
c) Your alarm clock.
You decide to go for a run this morning on your usual path. You run a short distance down the East Bank Highway and turn off into a dirt road thick with tall bushes. Your head is clear and you’re at peace for a moment as you admire the beauty of the country. All of a sudden you get a quick burst of energy and start running faster because:
a) A pack of 5 dogs from the house you run by regularly can’t seem to remember that you’re not an intruder and chase you down barking and biting at your heels.
b) You are trying to escape a group of men making sucking noises and lewd comments.
c) The motivating beat of your favorite song starts playing on your iPod.
As usual, you walk to school with your umbrella shielding the sun rays. The entire left side of your body is darker than your right side because the sun is always on your left when walking to and from school. You look like a chocolate frosted Pop-Tart. When you arrive to school, a group of students eagerly run over to you. They:
a) Greet you with “Good morning Miss”, followed by a hug.
b) Give you snacks and fruit so you’ll have enough energy to last throughout the day.
c) Turn in their homework.
The bell rings at 8:45. School was supposed to start at 8:30. The students slowly trickle into class around 8:50, stand up, say their prayers, then wait for the teachers to walk into their “classrooms.” In your first class, you couldn’t teach the students because:
a) There are four noisy classes in one room, so none of the students could hear what you were saying even though you were yelling.
b) You had to break up multiple fights in multiple classes since the other teachers didn’t show up and the children were left unsupervised, so there was no time left to teach.
c) It was picture day for the school year book.
It’s lunch time and you’re starving! You have an hour and you spend it:
a) Eating lunch in the library while disciplining a student.
b) Eating lunch in the classroom while disciplining a student.
c) Eating lunch in the staff room while discussing different effective disciplining techniques.
In your afternoon class you give the students a quiz. You collect the papers and begin reading some of the responses. There’s a paper that catches your eye because:
a) The student is illiterate and wrote: “I frind sipenti minv entoents I frind sipenti minv entoents”
b) The student was not paying attention and wrote: “Miss bon’t teech me this. I bo not no ansr.”
c) The student wrote in purple pen when they’re supposed to write in blue or black and made lots of drawings on the border.
School’s over. You walk home with a few school children. They’re somewhat charming only when they want to be. Actually it’s only the ones that walk with you that are charming. One of them invites herself over to your apartment on Friday, which creates a domino effect of all the students wanting to visit. You finally arrive home tired and sweaty from the heat and having to carry home a bunch of books and papers. You rest for a short while, but then decide to:
a) Lesson plan. You need to prepare for the next day so better get started.
b) Do a little bit of laundry. You have a huge pile to hand wash so better get started.
c) Open a bottle of wine. You promised a friend you would meet up at a bar later, but might as well get started.
Congratulations, you just finished your very own Guyanese adventure! But if you chose c) for any of the above, then you need to start over because you just chose yourself an American adventure.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I’ve been writing so much about my adventures here in Guyana that I felt like it’s time the readers gave some input. So, I’ve decided to let you guys choose your own adventure. Fun! Now select wisely and you’re on your way to your very own Guyanese adventure.
It’s 5:30 am and the sun has started peeking over the horizon. You are awakened by the sound of:
a) The neighbor’s dogs barking and the roosters crowing.
b) The offensive blaring sound of Indian music exploding from your neighbor 4 houses away, but actually sounds like they set up the stereo system on your pillow.
c) Your alarm clock.
You decide to go for a run this morning on your usual path. You run a short distance down the East Bank Highway and turn off into a dirt road thick with tall bushes. Your head is clear and you’re at peace for a moment as you admire the beauty of the country. All of a sudden you get a quick burst of energy and start running faster because:
a) A pack of 5 dogs from the house you run by regularly can’t seem to remember that you’re not an intruder and chase you down barking and biting at your heels.
b) You are trying to escape a group of men making sucking noises and lewd comments.
c) The motivating beat of your favorite song starts playing on your iPod.
As usual, you walk to school with your umbrella shielding the sun rays. The entire left side of your body is darker than your right side because the sun is always on your left when walking to and from school. You look like a chocolate frosted Pop-Tart. When you arrive to school, a group of students eagerly run over to you. They:
a) Greet you with “Good morning Miss”, followed by a hug.
b) Give you snacks and fruit so you’ll have enough energy to last throughout the day.
c) Turn in their homework.
The bell rings at 8:45. School was supposed to start at 8:30. The students slowly trickle into class around 8:50, stand up, say their prayers, then wait for the teachers to walk into their “classrooms.” In your first class, you couldn’t teach the students because:
a) There are four noisy classes in one room, so none of the students could hear what you were saying even though you were yelling.
b) You had to break up multiple fights in multiple classes since the other teachers didn’t show up and the children were left unsupervised, so there was no time left to teach.
c) It was picture day for the school year book.
It’s lunch time and you’re starving! You have an hour and you spend it:
a) Eating lunch in the library while disciplining a student.
b) Eating lunch in the classroom while disciplining a student.
c) Eating lunch in the staff room while discussing different effective disciplining techniques.
In your afternoon class you give the students a quiz. You collect the papers and begin reading some of the responses. There’s a paper that catches your eye because:
a) The student is illiterate and wrote: “I frind sipenti minv entoents I frind sipenti minv entoents”
b) The student was not paying attention and wrote: “Miss bon’t teech me this. I bo not no ansr.”
c) The student wrote in purple pen when they’re supposed to write in blue or black and made lots of drawings on the border.
School’s over. You walk home with a few school children. They’re somewhat charming only when they want to be. Actually it’s only the ones that walk with you that are charming. One of them invites herself over to your apartment on Friday, which creates a domino effect of all the students wanting to visit. You finally arrive home tired and sweaty from the heat and having to carry home a bunch of books and papers. You rest for a short while, but then decide to:
a) Lesson plan. You need to prepare for the next day so better get started.
b) Do a little bit of laundry. You have a huge pile to hand wash so better get started.
c) Open a bottle of wine. You promised a friend you would meet up at a bar later, but might as well get started.
Congratulations, you just finished your very own Guyanese adventure! But if you chose c) for any of the above, then you need to start over because you just chose yourself an American adventure.
Frank-in-style
The Guyanese are really frank and candid when it comes to speaking. What Americans might perceive as monstrosities are actually just their style and manner of speaking. Most of the time, there’s no need to take offense. Here are a few examples of how their brutal honesty has come across to me or other volunteers:
Student: Wow Miss! You’re very sweaty. Your back is soaked with sweat. How come you’re always so sweaty everyday?
[Ok, so I look like I just jumped in the creek.]
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Student: Miss, why do you wear your (button-down) shirt tucked in your skirt?
Me: Don’t you think it looks nicer this way?
Student: I don’t like it. You shouldn’t wear the same thing every day. You should wear more dresses.
[Ok, so I have bad fashion sense.]
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Teacher: I can tell you slept well last night because your cheeks are fat today.
[Ok, so I ate a lot of carbs yesterday.]
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Neighbor: Hey, you look fat in that shirt.
[Fine, I’ll lay off the carbs.]
-------------------------------------------------
Student: Are you and Miss Nadia sisters?
(Miss Nadia, my roommate and other volunteer at my school, is Hispanic. She has brown hair and blue eyes, but she looks pretty white for all intents and purposes.)
Me: No, do you think we look alike?
Student: Oh, then are you her mother?
[Ok, so I look old.]
-------------------------------------------------
Man on the street (referring to the recent break-outs we’ve had due to the heat and dirt): Did a lot of mosquitoes bite your faces?
[Ok, so we’ll scrub our faces again when we get home.]
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Fight count: 31.
To keep my sanity I stopped counting the fights after a Form 4 student (a sophomore/junior) spit on a Form 1 student (a 7th grader), then punched him because he felt like it. When I tried to talk to him about it, he laughed in my face. When I tried to punish him (by NOT beating him like most teachers would have), he ran away. Yup, this is what I left my fabulously air-conditioned job in Manhattan for.
Student: Wow Miss! You’re very sweaty. Your back is soaked with sweat. How come you’re always so sweaty everyday?
[Ok, so I look like I just jumped in the creek.]
-------------------------------------------------
Student: Miss, why do you wear your (button-down) shirt tucked in your skirt?
Me: Don’t you think it looks nicer this way?
Student: I don’t like it. You shouldn’t wear the same thing every day. You should wear more dresses.
[Ok, so I have bad fashion sense.]
-------------------------------------------------
Teacher: I can tell you slept well last night because your cheeks are fat today.
[Ok, so I ate a lot of carbs yesterday.]
-------------------------------------------------
Neighbor: Hey, you look fat in that shirt.
[Fine, I’ll lay off the carbs.]
-------------------------------------------------
Student: Are you and Miss Nadia sisters?
(Miss Nadia, my roommate and other volunteer at my school, is Hispanic. She has brown hair and blue eyes, but she looks pretty white for all intents and purposes.)
Me: No, do you think we look alike?
Student: Oh, then are you her mother?
[Ok, so I look old.]
-------------------------------------------------
Man on the street (referring to the recent break-outs we’ve had due to the heat and dirt): Did a lot of mosquitoes bite your faces?
[Ok, so we’ll scrub our faces again when we get home.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Fight count: 31.
To keep my sanity I stopped counting the fights after a Form 4 student (a sophomore/junior) spit on a Form 1 student (a 7th grader), then punched him because he felt like it. When I tried to talk to him about it, he laughed in my face. When I tried to punish him (by NOT beating him like most teachers would have), he ran away. Yup, this is what I left my fabulously air-conditioned job in Manhattan for.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Going Postal
Blogger's Note: Two posts again! Lucky readers.
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Going to the Post Office in Guyana is the most frustrating experience ever. I’ve had to take a mini-bus 45 minutes into town twice knowing that I had mail sitting in the back, only to come home empty handed. If the American postal system frustrates you, try dealing with the Guyanese one. Sometimes you just have to laugh it off to keep from going postal.
First Trip Friday afternoon:
Me: I’m looking for a letter here that was sent back from Soesdyke.
Postal Worker: (flips through a small stack of graphing paper with hand written notes) It’s not written in here. Come back on Monday and we might find it by then.
Me: But I’m a teacher and I can’t leave school. I was only able to leave today because it’s the first week of school and we don’t have our timetable yet.
Postal Worker: Then call back on Monday. Maybe we will find it by then.
Second Trip next week Saturday Morning:
Me: Hi! I would like to pick up my package, but I don’t have a package slip because it was sent to an office address instead of my home address.
Superintendent: Where do you live?
Me: Soesdyke.
Superintendent: Well you will get a slip at Soesdyke, then you will come here and pick up your package.
Me: But the package was addressed to an office address in Georgetown, not to Soesdyke.
Superintendent: Then you come here Mon-Fri before 3:30 and go upstairs. They will give you a number. You come back downstairs with your number and we will find your package.
Me: But I’m a school teacher and I cannot leave school to get here in time. I know two other school teachers who had packages without package slips and were able to pick up theirs last Saturday.
Superintendent: Do you even know if it’s here yet?
Me: Yes, it was sent 6-10 day airmail from the United States and it’s been over 2 weeks.
Superintendent: No, it’s not here. It will be here in 3-4 weeks.
Me: But the girls who picked up their packages were sent from the same place and it arrived in 6-10 days.
Superintendent: Do you understand what I’m saying? You come here Mon-Fri, go upstairs, then come back down with your number and we will get your package.
Me: Is there anything you can do to check for me right now?
Superintendent: No. These are the guidelines and you have to follow them.
Me: (sigh of deep frustration) Sir, then can I have your name please?
Superintendent: I’m the Superintendent. If you need me, just ask for the superintendent.
Me: But what is your name?
Superintendent: Mr. Patterson.
Me: And what is your supervisor’s name?
Superintendent: I’ve already give you too much information and I’m being very patient with you. If you want my supervisor just ask for the Post Master General. Good-bye.
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Going to the Post Office in Guyana is the most frustrating experience ever. I’ve had to take a mini-bus 45 minutes into town twice knowing that I had mail sitting in the back, only to come home empty handed. If the American postal system frustrates you, try dealing with the Guyanese one. Sometimes you just have to laugh it off to keep from going postal.
First Trip Friday afternoon:
Me: I’m looking for a letter here that was sent back from Soesdyke.
Postal Worker: (flips through a small stack of graphing paper with hand written notes) It’s not written in here. Come back on Monday and we might find it by then.
Me: But I’m a teacher and I can’t leave school. I was only able to leave today because it’s the first week of school and we don’t have our timetable yet.
Postal Worker: Then call back on Monday. Maybe we will find it by then.
Second Trip next week Saturday Morning:
Me: Hi! I would like to pick up my package, but I don’t have a package slip because it was sent to an office address instead of my home address.
Superintendent: Where do you live?
Me: Soesdyke.
Superintendent: Well you will get a slip at Soesdyke, then you will come here and pick up your package.
Me: But the package was addressed to an office address in Georgetown, not to Soesdyke.
Superintendent: Then you come here Mon-Fri before 3:30 and go upstairs. They will give you a number. You come back downstairs with your number and we will find your package.
Me: But I’m a school teacher and I cannot leave school to get here in time. I know two other school teachers who had packages without package slips and were able to pick up theirs last Saturday.
Superintendent: Do you even know if it’s here yet?
Me: Yes, it was sent 6-10 day airmail from the United States and it’s been over 2 weeks.
Superintendent: No, it’s not here. It will be here in 3-4 weeks.
Me: But the girls who picked up their packages were sent from the same place and it arrived in 6-10 days.
Superintendent: Do you understand what I’m saying? You come here Mon-Fri, go upstairs, then come back down with your number and we will get your package.
Me: Is there anything you can do to check for me right now?
Superintendent: No. These are the guidelines and you have to follow them.
Me: (sigh of deep frustration) Sir, then can I have your name please?
Superintendent: I’m the Superintendent. If you need me, just ask for the superintendent.
Me: But what is your name?
Superintendent: Mr. Patterson.
Me: And what is your supervisor’s name?
Superintendent: I’ve already give you too much information and I’m being very patient with you. If you want my supervisor just ask for the Post Master General. Good-bye.
Trash Talk
Littering is a huge problem in Guyana. People here don’t dispose of trash properly and oftentimes throw it in the creeks or rivers or along the street. After collecting a large stash, they might burn the pile and leave it for the goats to eat.
The government has started an ad campaign called “Nice Up Guyana” in hopes of educating their citizens about pollution. It’s similar to the “Don’t Mess with Texas” campaign, except I’ve only seen one billboard for it.
On the school grounds, it’s a bigger problem. There are ladies who sell snacks right outside the building for the students. After consuming their snacks, the kids will throw the garbage right on ground or in the classroom. Sometimes it’s snack bags or drink bottles, sometimes papers from school and sometimes it’s banana peels. The school looks like a landfill.
Well I’ve decided that I will not have of this at my school. I’m going to start an environmental club called Tree Huggers Uncontaminating Guyana (THUG). I’ll be the leader and all my little THUGs will join me in the school beautification project. As a member, if you see someone littering you will be required to talk trash to them. I’m going to have my THUGs educate litterbugs on the consequences of polluting their environment. Hopefully by the end of the year, my school will be filled with THUGs and people will be more conscious about their garbage.
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Fight count: 17. Brazen little monsters.
The government has started an ad campaign called “Nice Up Guyana” in hopes of educating their citizens about pollution. It’s similar to the “Don’t Mess with Texas” campaign, except I’ve only seen one billboard for it.
On the school grounds, it’s a bigger problem. There are ladies who sell snacks right outside the building for the students. After consuming their snacks, the kids will throw the garbage right on ground or in the classroom. Sometimes it’s snack bags or drink bottles, sometimes papers from school and sometimes it’s banana peels. The school looks like a landfill.
Well I’ve decided that I will not have of this at my school. I’m going to start an environmental club called Tree Huggers Uncontaminating Guyana (THUG). I’ll be the leader and all my little THUGs will join me in the school beautification project. As a member, if you see someone littering you will be required to talk trash to them. I’m going to have my THUGs educate litterbugs on the consequences of polluting their environment. Hopefully by the end of the year, my school will be filled with THUGs and people will be more conscious about their garbage.
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Fight count: 17. Brazen little monsters.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Why Guyanese Men Suck
Blogger's Note: It's a rare occurrence that I have internet access two days in a row. Originally I wasn't going to write another post, but since I was just on the most horrific mini-bus ride where roller coasters haven’t made my heart thump as fast, I feel the need to take advantage of this opportunity.
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I’ve been wondering for a long time what it is about the men in Guyana that make them suck. I think it might be in the culture or generations passing along unruly bad habits.
Whenever women walk down the street, the men make these sucking noises followed by some sort of inappropriate line. It’s the Guyanese version of whistling at a girl, except they suck.
Unfortunately a majority of the men behave this way. American women find this conduct rude and obnoxious. We’ve been instructed to ignore the sucking noises and comments and continue walking.
One afternoon as we were heading home from school, we heard the same group of men making sucking noises at us. As usual, we kept walking and ignored their Will-you-marry-me-and-take-me-back-to-America-with-you comments. After having us ignore them all week, one of the men got fed up with our standoffish attitudes and shouted, “Why are you so anti-social?”
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I’ve been wondering for a long time what it is about the men in Guyana that make them suck. I think it might be in the culture or generations passing along unruly bad habits.
Whenever women walk down the street, the men make these sucking noises followed by some sort of inappropriate line. It’s the Guyanese version of whistling at a girl, except they suck.
Unfortunately a majority of the men behave this way. American women find this conduct rude and obnoxious. We’ve been instructed to ignore the sucking noises and comments and continue walking.
One afternoon as we were heading home from school, we heard the same group of men making sucking noises at us. As usual, we kept walking and ignored their Will-you-marry-me-and-take-me-back-to-America-with-you comments. After having us ignore them all week, one of the men got fed up with our standoffish attitudes and shouted, “Why are you so anti-social?”
Friday, September 08, 2006
The First Week of School
Blogger's note: This is quite a long post about my first week. I've also made it a double header again so scroll down for some pretty pictures after this. Hopefully this makes up for two weeks of inactivity.
Day 1
School starts at 8:30am. The headmaster told us to arrive at 8:30am. There's no need to arrive early in Guyana. Students dressed in sea-foam green button downs and khaki bottoms litter the entrance of the tiny run-down wooden building. They look as if they could probably work at Prada, save the fact some of them would give you an attitude. All the girls have pretty green ribbons decorating their hair- it’s school policy.
A few of the teachers gather in the staff room while the rest instruct the students to move the tables and benches to their respective classes. There are four classrooms in the entire school. The classrooms are a larger room, and 4 classes gather in the same room with a chalkboard in front of them. Noise carries. Heat intensifies. There is no air conditioning, no fans. I have a permanent layer of sweat encrusted on me. Even my knees sweat. I didn’t think I had sweat glands there.
I am the most underdressed teacher wearing a button down shirt dampened by perspiration and a knee length skirt. All the female teachers wear polyester suits and three inch heels. How they travel in heels through dirt and sand is beyond me. How they stay cool in their suits, I'll never understand either.
After the students move their furniture, they just sit there all morning staring into space or chatting with a classmate. Teachers occasionally walk in and out of class to check on them, but they are busy writing their schemes for the term, something one would think would have been done over the summer.
I spend the entire morning cleaning and organizing the library. I peek my head out the window to take in the breeze and I see a young male student urinating on the grass next to the school.
By afternoon I’m surprised the students even came back after lunch. I take a book from the library and walk down to a random class and read to them. It’s useless since the "classroom" is so noisy.
The day ends at 2:30. I’m exhausted from yelling, I’m hot, and I have to walk 30 minutes back home.
Mental note: Don’t let kids pee in the field.
Day 2
Student: Miss you’re my favorite teacher.
Me: But I haven’t taught you yet, and I’m not even going to be your teacher.
Student: Yes, but you don’t give us lashes.
Mental note: No one likes a beating.
Day 3
There is still no class schedule. A teacher makes a sign that reads “We are no longer enrolling any more Form 1 students. We are out of furniture and space.”
Students have to fight for a seat. When there isn’t space available, a teacher will come and get angry at them for disturbing the class.
Downstairs a girl and a boy start punching each other. I break up my first fight, my good teacher deed of the day. Fight count: 1
Mental note: Teach the students kindness.
Day 4
A student from another class waves at me while I’m talking to another class. I ask her what she wants. She comes over and says she’s just “shaking me off.”
“Excuse me, you’re doing what?”
“Miss I was just shaking you off,” she smiles sweetly.
“Oh you mean you’re saying ‘hello’?”
“Yes Miss.”
Mental note: Do not get angry at students when they tell you they’re shaking you off.
Day 5
A handful of teachers have yet to make an appearance in school. Still no class schedule. I do know that I’m teaching Forms 1 (7th grade) and Forms 2 (8th grade). I start to go over my class rules when a teacher interrupts me and tells me there is a school assembly.
The students pile into one of the rooms, barely able to breathe. Yesterday two students had stolen a bike. A male teacher forcefully gives a lecture about stealing. The perpetrators are shamefully standing on two desks for all the school to witness. After the 25 minute lecture, the teacher instructs the students to step off the desks, bend over, and receive eight lashes each. The students who were sitting quietly on benches simultaneously stand up to catch a glimpse of the punishment. Silently protesting, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and walk out of the room, my heart breaking.
Mental note: My job here is more complicated than I thought it would be.
Day 1
School starts at 8:30am. The headmaster told us to arrive at 8:30am. There's no need to arrive early in Guyana. Students dressed in sea-foam green button downs and khaki bottoms litter the entrance of the tiny run-down wooden building. They look as if they could probably work at Prada, save the fact some of them would give you an attitude. All the girls have pretty green ribbons decorating their hair- it’s school policy.
A few of the teachers gather in the staff room while the rest instruct the students to move the tables and benches to their respective classes. There are four classrooms in the entire school. The classrooms are a larger room, and 4 classes gather in the same room with a chalkboard in front of them. Noise carries. Heat intensifies. There is no air conditioning, no fans. I have a permanent layer of sweat encrusted on me. Even my knees sweat. I didn’t think I had sweat glands there.
I am the most underdressed teacher wearing a button down shirt dampened by perspiration and a knee length skirt. All the female teachers wear polyester suits and three inch heels. How they travel in heels through dirt and sand is beyond me. How they stay cool in their suits, I'll never understand either.
After the students move their furniture, they just sit there all morning staring into space or chatting with a classmate. Teachers occasionally walk in and out of class to check on them, but they are busy writing their schemes for the term, something one would think would have been done over the summer.
I spend the entire morning cleaning and organizing the library. I peek my head out the window to take in the breeze and I see a young male student urinating on the grass next to the school.
By afternoon I’m surprised the students even came back after lunch. I take a book from the library and walk down to a random class and read to them. It’s useless since the "classroom" is so noisy.
The day ends at 2:30. I’m exhausted from yelling, I’m hot, and I have to walk 30 minutes back home.
Mental note: Don’t let kids pee in the field.
Day 2
Student: Miss you’re my favorite teacher.
Me: But I haven’t taught you yet, and I’m not even going to be your teacher.
Student: Yes, but you don’t give us lashes.
Mental note: No one likes a beating.
Day 3
There is still no class schedule. A teacher makes a sign that reads “We are no longer enrolling any more Form 1 students. We are out of furniture and space.”
Students have to fight for a seat. When there isn’t space available, a teacher will come and get angry at them for disturbing the class.
Downstairs a girl and a boy start punching each other. I break up my first fight, my good teacher deed of the day. Fight count: 1
Mental note: Teach the students kindness.
Day 4
A student from another class waves at me while I’m talking to another class. I ask her what she wants. She comes over and says she’s just “shaking me off.”
“Excuse me, you’re doing what?”
“Miss I was just shaking you off,” she smiles sweetly.
“Oh you mean you’re saying ‘hello’?”
“Yes Miss.”
Mental note: Do not get angry at students when they tell you they’re shaking you off.
Day 5
A handful of teachers have yet to make an appearance in school. Still no class schedule. I do know that I’m teaching Forms 1 (7th grade) and Forms 2 (8th grade). I start to go over my class rules when a teacher interrupts me and tells me there is a school assembly.
The students pile into one of the rooms, barely able to breathe. Yesterday two students had stolen a bike. A male teacher forcefully gives a lecture about stealing. The perpetrators are shamefully standing on two desks for all the school to witness. After the 25 minute lecture, the teacher instructs the students to step off the desks, bend over, and receive eight lashes each. The students who were sitting quietly on benches simultaneously stand up to catch a glimpse of the punishment. Silently protesting, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and walk out of the room, my heart breaking.
Mental note: My job here is more complicated than I thought it would be.
Short Picture Stories
I'm back in town now and everything with the elections are fine. I apologize for the delay in posts, but things should be up and running back to normal now. Here are some photos... less reading, more pictures.
We visited a beautiful Monastery during orientation. The priest had invited us to come so we arranged a time with him to visit. The hike was about 30 minutes through the rainforest, and when we got there he was taking a nap. Here’s us sitting on the steps. You can’t tell from the photo, but I was hungry.
The volunteers from Friendship, the village 20 minutes away, came to stay with us for five days during the election period. Their site was a polling location so they were instructed by our field director to stay with us until everything was safe. The night they came a big iguana ran into their living quarters. Mr. Williams, their groundskeeper, caught it for them. There was a rumor of him making Iguana curry afterwards. Seriously.
Yup, I’m living it up in Guyana. Here’s my roommate Nadia and I in our hammock out on the veranda. The electricity went out Tuesday night, so we swung in our hammocks by the moonlight.
Meet the 2006 Guyana volunteers. If we weren’t tree huggers before coming here, we are now. We’re all smiling because it’s the third day and we have no idea what we just got ourselves into.
These are our guinea pig students during our teaching practicum. They were trying to show us a Caribbean dance move, the Passa Passa. The one in the white shirt brought a Bible to class last year. When the teacher questioned him about it, he told her it was to keep the demons away. Then he went around class charging students $0.25 for a prayer. Absolute genius.
We visited a beautiful Monastery during orientation. The priest had invited us to come so we arranged a time with him to visit. The hike was about 30 minutes through the rainforest, and when we got there he was taking a nap. Here’s us sitting on the steps. You can’t tell from the photo, but I was hungry.The volunteers from Friendship, the village 20 minutes away, came to stay with us for five days during the election period. Their site was a polling location so they were instructed by our field director to stay with us until everything was safe. The night they came a big iguana ran into their living quarters. Mr. Williams, their groundskeeper, caught it for them. There was a rumor of him making Iguana curry afterwards. Seriously.Yup, I’m living it up in Guyana. Here’s my roommate Nadia and I in our hammock out on the veranda. The electricity went out Tuesday night, so we swung in our hammocks by the moonlight.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Conversations
Ok, here's a real weekend treat for yall. Since I may not have internet for a while, I've decided to do two posts today. After reading this post, scroll down for more Guyanese fun.
Below are actual excerpts from conversations with the locals.
Guyanese man at market: Hey where are you from?
Me: The United States
Guyanese man: Oh really? You speak English very well.
Me: Well thank you but I was born and raised there.
Guyanese man: Yes, but you speak English very well. Where are your parents from?
Me: My parents are from Taiwan, but English is my native language.
Guyanese man: Your accent is very good.
Me: Um, thank you.
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Volunteer looking to purchase a camera: Can I see that camera behind the glass?
Guyanese woman working at the store: I only have the key to this side of the glass. Come back tomorrow and I will get the key to the other side.
Volunteer: I’m leaving town tomorrow. Do you think you can just reach your arm in and get it for me?
Guyanese woman looks annoyed and reaches in for the camera.
Volunteer: So what is the return policy on this?
Guyanese woman: If there is something wrong with it, then bring it back and we’ll fix it up right for you.
Volunteer: Can I get a refund if I don’t open the package and bring it back as is?
Guyanese woman (exasperated): This isn’t the United States! You cannot just buy something and change your mind!!
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Me: Can you please tell me how to get to Oasis?
Guyanese Man working in the store: Yes, you get in a cab and tell him to take you there.
Me: Can you please tell me how to get to Oasis?
Guyanese Man on street: (points in a general direction)
Me: So I just walk down this street? Will it be to my left or right?
Guyanese Man: Just go down for a little bit, then turn left up ahead and go down there.
Me: How far down do I go before I turn left?
Guyanese Man: Just keep going. You’ll see it. No problem.
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Me: How much for a mini-bus from Soesdyke to Friendship?
Guyanese neighbor: You pay $100 to Friendship, right? Make sure you don’t ask the bus driver or he will try to charge you more.
Me: How much for a mini-bus from Soesdyke to Friendship?
Byron: Umm $120, maybe $140.
Me: How much for a mini-bus from Soesdyke to Friendship?
Guyanese security guard: Exactly $80.
When it Rains, It Pours
This is a long post I had written during orientation but never published. Since elections are coming up, I won’t be coming in town for a while, which means sporadic internet connection. Enjoy while you can… (btw- yay I can upload pics now!)
So I've been spending some serious time with Mother Nature lately. Much of my days are spent doing orientation type things: lesson planning, doing our teaching practicum, listening to sessions on Guyanese culture and safety, and visits from the Peace Corps nurse. (Side note: The nurse told us we weren’t allowed to have pet monkeys. Boo.)
The rest of the time we have fun activities planned for us or free time to do whatever we want. This past weekend we went on a one hour hike through the rainforest to an abandoned beach village. It was breathtaking. The walk was so tranquil and cathartic… until it started pouring down rain and we were sloshing through the mud. Then it turned into a cool, rejuvenating, and dirty hike.
Hike through the rainforest. Hiking makes me hungry.
Volunteers enjoying an afternoon at Beacon Beach
The next day we took the most beautiful speedboat ride down the Masaruni River to check out Marshall Falls. The water reflected all the colors and detail of the thick wall of trees and the fluffy white clouds sitting upon the clear blue sky that it doubled the beauty surrounding us. It was absolutely enchanting riding down the river… until it started pouring down rain and the harsh droplets smashed against our bare skin.
Once we got off the speedboat, we hiked through the rainforest stopping every once in a while to admire certain plants until we made it to Marshall Falls. The water there was a deep wine red, dyed by the leaves and iron from the dirt.
Red Red Wine
Our guide then told us to take off our shoes so we could climb up the waterfall into the cave behind it. Now if we were in the US, everyone would be given lifejackets and helmets, watch a safety video on how to climb slippery mossy rocks, then sign a release form. But since we’re in a third world country, we just kicked off our shoes, slowly climbed up through the cascading water, and sat back in the cave admiring the underside of Marshall Falls.
Yay! No lawsuits here. Everyone made it up without a scratch.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Mini-Bus FAQs
Ever since I got to my site, the only form of public transportation I’ve had is the mini-bus. The name sounds misleading so I’ve decided to do an FAQ session about mini-busses in Guyana.
What is a mini-bus?
A mini-bus is a small van that can legally seat 15 people, but usually seats 20 or more. They drive like 16-year-old boys who just obtained their license and had about 3 bottles of beer before jumping in the driver seat. They drive along the road and pick up passengers randomly along the way. Think of it as a big cab you have to share with everyone.
What does a mini-bus look like?
You can recognize it by the reggae music blasting about a mile away. When sitting in a mini-bus your eardrums tickle and your clothes vibrate from the bass.
When it drives closer, you can see colorful stickers and labels on the front window with prominent United States rappers and/or their rap songs and/or the driver's girlfriend’s name (e.g.: G-unit, Feel da Rhythem [sic], Magic Stick, Howard and Christina for-eva)
What is a mini-bus?
A mini-bus is a small van that can legally seat 15 people, but usually seats 20 or more. They drive like 16-year-old boys who just obtained their license and had about 3 bottles of beer before jumping in the driver seat. They drive along the road and pick up passengers randomly along the way. Think of it as a big cab you have to share with everyone.
What does a mini-bus look like?
You can recognize it by the reggae music blasting about a mile away. When sitting in a mini-bus your eardrums tickle and your clothes vibrate from the bass.
When it drives closer, you can see colorful stickers and labels on the front window with prominent United States rappers and/or their rap songs and/or the driver's girlfriend’s name (e.g.: G-unit, Feel da Rhythem [sic], Magic Stick, Howard and Christina for-eva)
This is what a pretty mini-bus would look like. I have yet to see one.
How do I pick a mini-bus?
I’ve been told by the US Embassy that we should choose our mini-busses carefully. The road I live off of is the East Bank Highway, and by “highway” I mean a 2 way street that pedestrians and cows walk along as well. Oftentimes drivers will turn the two lanes into three lanes and will not slow down for pedestrians or oncoming traffic. They will, however, start braking a mile away if they see a cow.
To pick a mini-bus, you should find the oldest rattiest one. Why? Because this means it’s been driving for a long time and still hasn’t gotten in an accident.
Also, on a side note, my biggest fear is no longer getting a malaria or typhoid, but that I will get run over by a mini-bus since there are no side walks.
How do I catch one?
You just stick your hand out like you’re hailing a cab. Point straight to go all the way into town, point down to stop somewhere in the middle, and point up to go to the airport. One will stop and pick you up. If the bus is full, the driver will stick his hand out the window and shrug. Wah-Wah.
Can you tell me about your experience so far in a mini-bus?
One day we walked out to catch a mini-bus going into town. (town= Georgetown, not short for the name, but because it is the only town in the country.) Outside there was a man named Byron who shouted across the street, “Hey Chinese girl, you know [last year’s volunteer]”
He came over and offered to catch a mini-bus for us. He let a couple pass and I asked him if he was really catching us one.
“One come just now, right? No problem, no problem”
“No, not just now Byron, I want a mini-bus right now.”
The sun was vicious that morning and we were sweating buckets. Byron tried a few more times and they wouldn’t stop for him or he let them pass. This charade continued for 25 minutes before I got tired of his lackadaisical attitude and told him he had one more chance. When the next bus flew by, I fired him, walked up the street and caught a mini-bus in 45 seconds.
Mental note: Don't let Guyanese men hail mini-busses for you.
Monday, August 21, 2006
A Long Ferry Tale
Traveling to another “city” in a third world country can actually be pretty complicated. A few days after we arrived in Guyana, we left the capital due to the upcoming election and the pending riots/shootings/chaos. (If you’re at all interested, the presidential elections are going to be on Mon, August 28th. If you’re at all worried, I’m living 45 minutes from the capital and there’s an emergency evacuation plan in place so we’ll all be safe and sound. If you’re still reading this then you must be my mom, and I promise I’m fine. Foreigners aren't a target.)
To get from Georgetown to Bartica, we had to take a 1 hour bus ride, then a 5 hour ferry ride. In the US, a ferry is a nice wide barge that you might be able to drive your car onto and conductors let you board in an orderly fashion. In Guyana it’s a little different.
We were told we could drive our van with all the suitcases onboard, but the boat was already at full capacity because they had to fit to a few cows, 200 camp kids, and some furniture. Cows are very important in this country... I'll discuss more about them later. Even though we got there early, the “entrance area” of the boat was completely barricaded with all of the above. The only option for us to get on the boat was to have two of the male volunteers climb onto the railing of the second floor of the ferry and toss each other all fifty pieces of super heavy luggage.
I was still on land helping to facilitate the suitcase toss when the boat gave two loud tugs signaling it was ready to depart. I was left with no other choice than to climb up the two levels of railing, only to find myself hanging off the side of the boat.
To get from Georgetown to Bartica, we had to take a 1 hour bus ride, then a 5 hour ferry ride. In the US, a ferry is a nice wide barge that you might be able to drive your car onto and conductors let you board in an orderly fashion. In Guyana it’s a little different.
We were told we could drive our van with all the suitcases onboard, but the boat was already at full capacity because they had to fit to a few cows, 200 camp kids, and some furniture. Cows are very important in this country... I'll discuss more about them later. Even though we got there early, the “entrance area” of the boat was completely barricaded with all of the above. The only option for us to get on the boat was to have two of the male volunteers climb onto the railing of the second floor of the ferry and toss each other all fifty pieces of super heavy luggage.
I was still on land helping to facilitate the suitcase toss when the boat gave two loud tugs signaling it was ready to depart. I was left with no other choice than to climb up the two levels of railing, only to find myself hanging off the side of the boat.
There was still one volunteer behind me who was getting a little nervous about the boat leaving and asked me to step in. The people on the boat were standing shoulder to shoulder and there was no room for me to move down. Again I had no other choice but to balance my feet on the railing, hope that I didn’t slip since my health insurance doesn’t cover this, and monkey bar across the length of the boat until I found a spot where I could jump into the ferry.
Once the ferry set sail, I found myself in the hot sun with about an inch of space between me, the railing, the volunteers, some locals and our suitcases. It didn’t take long before I realized I could climb over everyone to the other group sitting on top of 100 boxes of vodka, then down the stairs to the ship crew. We befriended the cook- who shared his rum and some fried fish, a local kid- who shared her fruit and chips, and occupied ourselves during the best ferry ride ever.
Third world country transportation. Ferry riders jump down on the speed boats to bring them to their destination.
The crowded 5 hour ferry ride.
Again none of these pics are mine since blogger doesn't like to load them for me.
Blogger’s note: These stories are not told in real time as many Americans are used to. Some stories may be posted out of order, such as this one. We've already left Bartica and took the speed boats back into Georgetown, which took about an hour, but we got pelted with heavy rain that felt like hail. We just can't win.
I’ve arrived at my site in Soesdyke and I love it. Our landlords are so helpful and friendly. The first night we arrived, they went into town 45 mins away to get us food. That evening they brought me a mosquito net, fresh water and made sure we were safe. I still have more stories, but one at a time.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Miss Understanding
We started the teaching practicum part of orientation last week. Students in Bartica signed up to sit in class for a week to be our guinea pigs. We only expected 20 students total but ended up with 100. Apparently they were really excited to have teachers who don't know what they're doing practice on them like a science experiment.
On the first day of class, we made the students go around and say their names (which I couldn't understand so we made them write it down) and a place they would like to go to. Most students said Jamaica or the US. One said he would like to go to Heaven. Another said Iraq, but spelled it eRock.
They're always very polite and greet us with "Miss." Everything is "Miss, yes Miss" or "Thank you Miss", or "Good morning Miss." It's been a struggle trying to understand their accents. I'll ask the class if they have any questions, then I can't understand anything they say. I asked a student to repeat his question twice that he finally gave up and said, "Miss, nevermind Miss." Later the students were talking with our field director and told her that Americans can't hear very well.
On the first day of class, we made the students go around and say their names (which I couldn't understand so we made them write it down) and a place they would like to go to. Most students said Jamaica or the US. One said he would like to go to Heaven. Another said Iraq, but spelled it eRock.
They're always very polite and greet us with "Miss." Everything is "Miss, yes Miss" or "Thank you Miss", or "Good morning Miss." It's been a struggle trying to understand their accents. I'll ask the class if they have any questions, then I can't understand anything they say. I asked a student to repeat his question twice that he finally gave up and said, "Miss, nevermind Miss." Later the students were talking with our field director and told her that Americans can't hear very well.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Gold Digger
I had originally started a post about my new found love of nature and all the quality time I've been spending with it lately. But after reading it over, I sounded too much like a hippie so I decided to write about something more interesting: how to be a gold digger in Guyana.
Apparently at the bottom of the river, there are specs of gold that divers scoop up. These specs are no larger than a grain of sand. They use mercury to meld it together then extract the mercury and out comes a lump of gold. The river is 270 feet deep so being a gold digger is dangerous, but not a bad way to supplement a teacher's salary.
ps- My camera got wet so you'll have to wait for more pics. (sorry Mom!)
Apparently at the bottom of the river, there are specs of gold that divers scoop up. These specs are no larger than a grain of sand. They use mercury to meld it together then extract the mercury and out comes a lump of gold. The river is 270 feet deep so being a gold digger is dangerous, but not a bad way to supplement a teacher's salary.
ps- My camera got wet so you'll have to wait for more pics. (sorry Mom!)
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Waist Knot, Want Not
I'm a little nervous. There were two things I was pretty sure I would have when I got here, but I don't.
I was pretty certain I would get some kind of ailment from traveling, being exposed to the intense tropical climate, and eating and drinking sustenance that my stomach isn't familiar with. Some of the volunteers have already gotten sick, but luckily it hasn't been anything too detrimental. I'm feel like I'm just waiting for something to hit me.
The other thing I was pretty certain I would have is water. I mean it's so plentiful, right? For the past week, we've been in Bartica and although the dorms here are luxurious compared to the dorms in Georgetown, it does not have a water well. The water that we've been using is collected in big black tanks when it rains. When that water is depleted, we have to do a little rain dance.
The Gods must have been smiling down at us the day we ran out of water. All the toilets were unflushed, laundry was undone, and people were unbathed. Basically, it was smelly. That afternoon it downpoured like no other rainstorm I've seen. All the volunteers ran outside, and many like myself were carried and forced to enjoy the cool rain. We danced, wheelbarrowed and played with the local children in the rain. Someone brought out bottles of shampoo and we all took the most refreshing shower outside in the fields.
I was pretty certain I would get some kind of ailment from traveling, being exposed to the intense tropical climate, and eating and drinking sustenance that my stomach isn't familiar with. Some of the volunteers have already gotten sick, but luckily it hasn't been anything too detrimental. I'm feel like I'm just waiting for something to hit me.
The other thing I was pretty certain I would have is water. I mean it's so plentiful, right? For the past week, we've been in Bartica and although the dorms here are luxurious compared to the dorms in Georgetown, it does not have a water well. The water that we've been using is collected in big black tanks when it rains. When that water is depleted, we have to do a little rain dance.
The Gods must have been smiling down at us the day we ran out of water. All the toilets were unflushed, laundry was undone, and people were unbathed. Basically, it was smelly. That afternoon it downpoured like no other rainstorm I've seen. All the volunteers ran outside, and many like myself were carried and forced to enjoy the cool rain. We danced, wheelbarrowed and played with the local children in the rain. Someone brought out bottles of shampoo and we all took the most refreshing shower outside in the fields.
Hopefully it rained enough for us to continue having a steady supply of water. But now after I hand wash my clothes, I use the dirty water to flush the toilets. Americans make up 5% of the world's population, but use 15% of the world's fresh water. Don't waste water... it's precious.
A rainbow over Bartica Secondary School after the rain
How not to take a bucket shower: fill up your water first
Not my picture. I'm not that good of a photographer. This is off the Essequibo River near Bartica.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Learning English in English
Whoever said that people in Guyana speak English was tricking me. They speak a form of English called Creolese and I don't understand a single word any local has said. I'm not sure how teaching these kids are going to go because I'm going to spend all period just trying to figure out their question. I might need a English to English translator to follow me around everywhere I go.
The British really left their mark here since they spell everything weird that I almost feel like I'm learning a new language. Tires is tyres, color is colour, center is centre.
Here's a quick lesson in the Guyanese English language:
- Just Now: In a minute, in an hour, in a week, in a year, or any indeterminate amount of time. I'll return your book just now.
- When School is closed: Summer break since all seasons are summer here.
What did you do when school was closed?
- What are you using: Can I get you a drink?
Hey Chinese girl, what are you using?
- Where is your face?: How come you're not wearing any make-up?
Miss, where is your face?
Everyone here also drives on the wrong side of the road.
The British really left their mark here since they spell everything weird that I almost feel like I'm learning a new language. Tires is tyres, color is colour, center is centre.
Here's a quick lesson in the Guyanese English language:
- Just Now: In a minute, in an hour, in a week, in a year, or any indeterminate amount of time. I'll return your book just now.
- When School is closed: Summer break since all seasons are summer here.
What did you do when school was closed?
- What are you using: Can I get you a drink?
Hey Chinese girl, what are you using?
- Where is your face?: How come you're not wearing any make-up?
Miss, where is your face?
Everyone here also drives on the wrong side of the road.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Guyana, Land of Many Waters
There's just so much to say and so little time to say it all in. First of all, Guyana is such a great and wonderful country. Today I went swimming in the Essequibo river with cows. There are cows, goats and roosters at the dorm we're staying at, but I'll get to all that another time. I have so much to catch yall up on, so I've decided to make a list of the good, the bad and the ugly of Guyana. Also I still cannot load pics yet so I will need you to prepare a red, green and black crayon so you can draw in the visuals yourself. Here goes:
The Good
- Meeting all the volunteers and getting to know them. There are rocket scientists, former teachers, engineers, geniuses, 2 Canadians and people who've traveled to the most exotic places in the world. Each person has a different story and background, and everyone is so nice and willing to lend a helping hand. I mean you kind of have to if you're going to do this, right?
- The people in the country are so welcoming and nice. Everywhere you go, you make friends with the locals. We're celebrities... they opened this internet cafe tonight just because we're in town.
There was an opening ceremony held for us, which was broadcasted on their national TV. Afterwards some locals stopped one of the volunteers and told us they saw her on television. It's cool being famous in a third world country.
- I learned the play the steel drums. Ok, just the first 8 notes of the American national anthem, but I felt cool. Just like the celebrity thing.
- My placement. I totally got hooked up with the best living situation in all of Guyana. Watch out Guyana MTV Cribs. Right when I got off the plane, the field director told me I had a fridge, internet access, and a veranda with a hammock. Score! So much for roughing it.
- The country is absolutely beautiful. Please take out your green crayon now. Draw a box on your computer screen here:
Now fill the box in with lots of green circles that may or may not look like palm trees. This is what Guyana looks like.
The Bad
- The heat. The sun is sometimes so unforgiving here, and you're forced to find solace in the shade and wait for a nice cool breeze. Luckily the breeze blows quite frequently, so you find yourself taking lots of shade breaks.
- The mosquitoes. Now please take out your red crayon. Draw two parallel lines here:
Now fill them in with red dots and that is my leg or my arm.
- The water at the first dorm we stayed at in Georgetown smelled like sulfur.
The Ugly
- I was told I'm going to be teaching at a community high school-- which is basically for delinquents, kids that didn't pass the high school entrance exam, or didn't take it. I heard it was challenging.
- The frequency of running water. The water doesn't always work here so oftentimes the toilet doesn't flush (in which case you just go to the well, fill up a bucket and pour it down), or the sink doesn't work (in which case you just take out your antibacterial gel) or the shower doesn't work (in which case you just go to the well, fill up a bucket and take a bucket bath). All things these things aren't so bad to deal with.
While we were staying at the dorm, myself and two other volunteers were taking a shower. Mid shampoo lather, the water stops running and the three of us are left soapy and bewildered. We decide the water isn't going to come back on, wrap ourselves up in towels, grab our brightly colored buckets and march our sudsy selves to fetch some well water.
The well is located right next to where all the 23 other male and female volunteers like to hang out because there is guaranteed a breeze. Now please take out your black crayon and draw three stick figures here:
Now add lots of suds in our hair, a towel around ourselves, water dripping from our stick figure arms and a bucket in tow. Now to the left, add 23 stick figures turning around at the same time to see us in this state. There is a real picture out there of this incident and I will show yall once it's downloaded somewhere.
I have many more stories, which I will have to tell you later. We're off to the local bar now. Don't forget to wipe all the crayon marks off your computer screen.
The Good
- Meeting all the volunteers and getting to know them. There are rocket scientists, former teachers, engineers, geniuses, 2 Canadians and people who've traveled to the most exotic places in the world. Each person has a different story and background, and everyone is so nice and willing to lend a helping hand. I mean you kind of have to if you're going to do this, right?
- The people in the country are so welcoming and nice. Everywhere you go, you make friends with the locals. We're celebrities... they opened this internet cafe tonight just because we're in town.
There was an opening ceremony held for us, which was broadcasted on their national TV. Afterwards some locals stopped one of the volunteers and told us they saw her on television. It's cool being famous in a third world country.
- I learned the play the steel drums. Ok, just the first 8 notes of the American national anthem, but I felt cool. Just like the celebrity thing.
- My placement. I totally got hooked up with the best living situation in all of Guyana. Watch out Guyana MTV Cribs. Right when I got off the plane, the field director told me I had a fridge, internet access, and a veranda with a hammock. Score! So much for roughing it.
- The country is absolutely beautiful. Please take out your green crayon now. Draw a box on your computer screen here:
Now fill the box in with lots of green circles that may or may not look like palm trees. This is what Guyana looks like.
The Bad
- The heat. The sun is sometimes so unforgiving here, and you're forced to find solace in the shade and wait for a nice cool breeze. Luckily the breeze blows quite frequently, so you find yourself taking lots of shade breaks.
- The mosquitoes. Now please take out your red crayon. Draw two parallel lines here:
Now fill them in with red dots and that is my leg or my arm.
- The water at the first dorm we stayed at in Georgetown smelled like sulfur.
The Ugly
- I was told I'm going to be teaching at a community high school-- which is basically for delinquents, kids that didn't pass the high school entrance exam, or didn't take it. I heard it was challenging.
- The frequency of running water. The water doesn't always work here so oftentimes the toilet doesn't flush (in which case you just go to the well, fill up a bucket and pour it down), or the sink doesn't work (in which case you just take out your antibacterial gel) or the shower doesn't work (in which case you just go to the well, fill up a bucket and take a bucket bath). All things these things aren't so bad to deal with.
While we were staying at the dorm, myself and two other volunteers were taking a shower. Mid shampoo lather, the water stops running and the three of us are left soapy and bewildered. We decide the water isn't going to come back on, wrap ourselves up in towels, grab our brightly colored buckets and march our sudsy selves to fetch some well water.
The well is located right next to where all the 23 other male and female volunteers like to hang out because there is guaranteed a breeze. Now please take out your black crayon and draw three stick figures here:
Now add lots of suds in our hair, a towel around ourselves, water dripping from our stick figure arms and a bucket in tow. Now to the left, add 23 stick figures turning around at the same time to see us in this state. There is a real picture out there of this incident and I will show yall once it's downloaded somewhere.
I have many more stories, which I will have to tell you later. We're off to the local bar now. Don't forget to wipe all the crayon marks off your computer screen.
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