Stuff That Happened

12/10/14

Two weeks ago we celebrated Thanksgiving down in Linden. Linden takes about an hour and half to get to from Georgetown and Georgetown is between 3 and 5 hours from my home in Suddie.

The whole thing went very smoothly, getting there, enjoying friends, and getting back. Here’s my favorite part.

That Saturday, the 29^th, my friend Ryan announced that he had a radio show to do from 7:30-9:30. He said that his friend and co-host said that we’d get into the club for free later that night so it seemed like we should go. Longtime friends of mine, and short time, will recall that I used to do a radio show with a couple of cool cats back in the day. K-hurtz, Snack Daddy, and DJ Bailout, you know who you are, what you did and what’s on film.

Obviously, I jumped at the chance to get back on the airwaves so Ryan had one of his buds drive us out there. When we got there, we were greeted by the producer and, I think, manager of the station 104.3 Power. The station looked like it was set up in someone’s house. The foyer was a huge room with a pile of speakers in one corner blasting the voices of the people in the booth that you could see through the giant window. Ryan’s co-host comes out and it’s this giant Afro-Guyanese man wearing a tank top revealing an intricate network of tribal tattoos covering his arms and chest. He introduces himself as Gavin. I recently read that if someone maintains eye contact with you for more than 6 seconds they either want to kill you or have sex with you. Apparently he wanted to kill all of us. I don’t care to think about the alternative.

 Initially there were about 10 people that came to the station but most of the party got bored and left early leaving only me, Ryan, the “Boo Crew”, and Gavin his DJ name was G. Ryan’s DJ name was West and obviously mine was JT. The “Boo Crew” were three Guyanese women who looked like they had been tricked into coming and definitely didn’t appreciate the moniker.

The way the booth was set up G had a mic stand next to him sitting on the desk between him and me and Ryan. Ryan and I shared a handheld microphone. It was not a great set up but it was a good time. We talked celebrity news and talked about all the stupid stuff DJs talk about. We also played a top 10 list pilfered from some American music site. It was definitely a return to something that I really enjoyed and still enjoy.

This week, our Safety and Security Coordinator is checking out all our homes and workplaces making sure we are all safe and secure. I went out to Machabo with him today because I had literally nothing to do today. Some of you will have already seen the pictures. Written words don’t do it justice but it is definitely an Eden nestled on the coast of Guyana. I’ll try to post a picture or two when I post this.

12/16/14

Hi everyone, just a quick check in I just got back from Linden again. We were doing a GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) camp. There were about 20 or so girls there at different times. It was a good learning experience for me at least since I'll be doing about the same thing with a boys camp at the end of March. I don't want to give anything away just now so I'll post more details later on. Have a few pictures in the mean time.

This is me drinking the last gallon or so of juice from the camp GLOW in Linden. If I had to describe the flavor it would be ground up Pez mixed with water.

This is a skeleton my friend Andrew painted at his health center.

This is an arty photograph of Joe holding the remains of breakfast.

This is my trusty hammock. I spend several hours a day in this bad boy.

From left to right, Erika (top), Mollie (bottom), Andrew, Kaylee, Me, and Ryan. This is from Linden two weeks ago and we're eating vanilla Oreos donated by Matt and Kathrina (not pictured).

This is Machabo lake, we had to cross it to get to Machabo.

This is Machabo. It's Ally's, another volunteer, site. Very beautiful. That little building is her house.

This is the boat that four grown men took across the lake for a half hour. I wish you could see the scale of the boat better but it got scary, quick.

This is from Essequibo Night, a big cultural event from my neck of the woods. That's me on the left, Ally in the middle and Mark on the right.

This is the view from my porch.

This is the group at kaietur falls. Too many people to name without confusing you. Just know that everyone is pretty cool.

While I've got your attention, I'm trying a new thing. Find me on whatsapp and I'll add you to my broadcast list and you can see all my photos, hear all my thoughts, and get all my cool updates. To do that, download Whatsapp on your smartphone and add this number as a contact 5926748145. Also follow me on Twitter @_This_is_Tim_. You just might like it.

Back Again

10/8/14

Hi everybody, I’m back again.

Last Sunday I went to an Eid celebration at the masjid. Apparently masjid is another term for mosque. You learn something new every day, even if you don’t want to. It was pretty cool. Joe was in town and we were hanging out all weekend so we went together with Mollie, Naomi and David. We missed the actual slaughtering but we watched some of the butchering. The men there slaughtered a dozen bulls, chopped them up and handed out the meat. Luckily we were there early, and white, so we got some meat that we took back to Mollie’s and cooked up immediately.

So there we were, eating steak that had literally been slaughtered about 90 minutes before and drinking cold beers. Some days are better than others. Future volunteers don’t take this as the rule, days like this are by and far the exception. But it’s fun to focus on the few high points instead of the multitudes of low ones.

There’s a movie, The Guardian maybe, Kevin Costner and Ashton Kutcher and they’re rescue divers. In it, Costner says something to the effect of, “you’ll spend 90% of your diving career in a mild state of hypothermia” as he mercilessly trains the new divers. I’d say that sentiment echoes one’s experience Peace Corps. Not mildly hypothermic, but very mildly depressed.

We’re all so concentrated on what we’re doing here because it’s now our lives. When I did volunteer work before even when I didn’t like it at least I got to go home at the end of the day. When something irritates me at work or at home there’s almost nothing that I can do about it. While it’s possible, it’s not feasible to move out of a neighborhood I don’t like or find a job that I do. I’m stuck here. I am living this volunteer life whether I like it or not.

It’s unnatural to always be giving of one’s time. To be volunteering 24/7. There has to be some degree of selfishness or narcissism to lend balance to one’s life. Taking time for one’s self, self-care, is important to the human species. Being able to take care of yourself is necessary for life to go on and out here there’s fewer opportunities and options to do that. I also hate whining so I’m done for now, it’s just hard out here some times.

One thing that’s been weighing on my mind is my host family. For at least the last week they’ve been keeping one of their dogs in a small 2’x3’ house on about a 4’chain. It’s barbaric the way they’re treating this dog. And it whines all through the day and night like no one’s fed it. I haven’t actually seen them feed it but I have to imagine they do while I’m not home, right? God I hope so. The worst part is that I don’t feel like I can say anything and if I could, what would I say? “Hey, stop torturing your dog.”? Combined with the fact that my host sister keeps bringing me dinner it’s like they’re being so nice to me and complete assholes towards this dog. Animals are not treated well here. This is the rule, not the exception. I see plenty of abused animals here every day and it’s truly disgusting. They’re real emotional terrorists.

10/13/14

Hey everyone, I went to Kaiteur Falls on Saturday. I’ve seen it spelled a lot of different ways so that’s what we’ll go with. It was pretty cool. Supposedly, it’s the highest single drop waterfall in the world at 741 feet high. I wonder who had to measure that.

But better than that was getting to see some other volunteers that I hadn’t seen in 3 months. We went through all the training and PC bullshit and through that firestorm of bad decisions and useless training sessions we forged a real family. It really was like seeing some brothers and sisters I hadn’t seen in a while, we just picked up where we left off.

What I was really struck by was the boundless optimism I saw from these people. It was more inspiring than any water falling off a cliff. Out on the Essequibo coast we really are isolated from most of the other volunteers who live on the other side of the river. Traveling to town on a good day can take upwards of 3 hours and it’s mentally taxing. I really don’t like traveling into town or even being in town. There’s too many people and I can feel my anxiety rising. My friend Holly said that it’s important to be flexible and be able to adapt to differences. I think I’ll have to try that next time I’m in town.

But back to why I was struck by the optimism. On the coast, the other volunteers that I do see are the jaded 25ers, the group that came before us. I like them a lot, CJ, Mollie, Iris, Ally, Doug, they are all really cool people and they’ve helped me get used to Guyana. One thing that I like is the fact that there are no illusions with them. They don’t pull punches about how shit things can be sometimes and don’t pretend to love every second of every day. They’re realists to the max and I appreciate that. It comes, I think, from being here for the last year and a half. They know that having expectations that are too high will only end disappoint. I like being around realistic people.

That’s why the optimism and idealism that I heard from the other 26ers surprised me, I wasn’t used to it. Initially, I affixed it to their naiveté and the fact they still held some of that je nai se qua (was that right, Nick and Chris?) and innocence that allowed them to believe they were making a difference every day. It actually kind of annoyed me, it felt like they were ignoring all the bad stuff about being here and only focusing on the good and how great things were. It felt like they were lying to themselves. Telling themselves how great this whole experience has been and ignoring the parts that were bad. In my mind, that’s the pinnacle of unhealthy psychological behavior. I don’t think you should focus purely on the positives and deny the negatives because that’s not real life. That’s a fantasy world where nothing bad ever happens and it’s just not real. Bad stuff happens, I’ve seen it, you’ve seen it and when someone denies that they’ve never had a bad day or minimizes their own sadness it’s unhealthy. Acknowledging that, yeah, sometimes I have a really shitty day where I don’t accomplish anything is important, I think.

I’ve never been one to push my beliefs on other people. And while I didn’t agree with the other volunteer’s views of things, the last thing I’d do is condemn them for their views. But then I thought about why they might be doing that and I think it comes down to the differences in ways people approach their lives. Where I like to have balance and acknowledge both the bad and the good some others may want to emphasize the good. It’s not my place to tell them what I think about their strategy but I should support them regardless. And as I thought about it I realized that maybe I was going about my service in the wrong way. Maybe I needed to be more positive about what I was doing.

10/16/14

                I know, I know, I was supposed to post yesterday but I just forgot. I’ll post tomorrow, I promise.

                Some days it seems like Peace Corps lied to us. When you think about PC you think about going to some exotic locale, living in a small hut, and strolling around the village clad only in a loincloth. Well I don’t have a loincloth. This stereotypical view of a volunteer is obviously not everyone’s experience, I’m not an idiot. I guess I was just hoping that someone in this entire country would actually want volunteers here. Everyone I’ve talked to just doesn’t really seem to give a shit that I’m here. If they don’t care, why should I?

                Everyone I talk to, nurses, doctors, people in the community just gives me the smile and nod, disbelief that I’ll be here for two years and a promise to call if I can be helpful. And that’s a best case scenario. Then I never hear from them again. Being here is like being in quicksand. I’m slowly sinking into a pit of my own fear and doubts and every time I try to reach for a branch, a reason to be here, it gets pulled away. The people here wouldn’t be doing anything differently whether or not Peace Corps was here, I think. All the technical expertise and willingness to help is wasted here. I’ve worked hard, I’m not afraid to do something that’s never been done before but without the buy-in from the people that are here, what’s the point?

                Every day is a struggle to do something meaningful and most days, I fail. And I’m getting tired of it.

                It definitely feels like I’m whining right now. “Oh look at me, I get to live in South America totally funded by the US. Woe is me.” I’m not trying to bitch and moan too much but it’s seriously frustrating being hired to help in a country that doesn’t want my help. It’s like getting hired for a new job then showing up and realizing there is no job and you have to build the company from the ground up on your own in a country of people you’ve never met who’s culture and customs you don’t understand. Thank God they speak English, kind of. But if it was easy, everyone would do it. Right?

11/7/2014

                So you may have noticed that this post is very very late. A whole host of excuses could follow and not fully explain what’s been going on. I’ve just been the right kind of busy and bored not to post this.

                Last week, we had reconnect. All the volunteers showed up at the same hotel and we all went through more bullshit PC training. The training was completely useless and unhelpful. I wish they’d stop. Getting to see everyone was really the best part and most people seem to be doing well. I want to be like them. Reading through what I’ve written before I realize it sounds very negative. Having this blog is like a reverse facebook. Instead of seeing all the great parts of my life you are exposed to only my worst thoughts. In the future, I’ll try to temper them with more positive things that have been going on. For example, today I’m going to my friend Ashley’s school and working with some of the boys. Working on what? I don’t know. But I’ll do some activity they enjoy, debase myself a little and maybe things will turn out okay. See y’all later. I miss all of you lots, I’m 6 months in now and I’ve got 21 months left. Here we go.

11/10/14

I had a bit of distressing news from my conference a few weeks ago.

                Peace Corps has stated on several occasions that they begin developing sites far in advance of our arrival. They do the groundwork and, are supposed to, make sure that the community has things for a volunteer to work on and willing members to help.

                At this conference I got confirmation of a suspicion I’ve held for a while. It turns out that Peace Corps did have a site that they thought would be perfect for me. From what I can gather it was in Georgetown and would have been working with administration in the Ministry of Health to help implement their new psychological health plan for the country. Sounds pretty cool. Apparently, two days before they announced our sites an unknown staff member stated that my site would not be safe since it was in town and that it would no longer be a viable site. 2 days before sites were announced when this staff member had months to say something. A new site was then located for me over the course of two days. All these months and months of preparation were down the toilet in a minute and my site was basically whatever someone could scrape from the bottom of the barrel in 48 hours.

                It’s unfortunate but what am I gonna do? Cry? Whine? What’s that going to do? Instead I’m taking it as a learning experience. It sucks but no one can fix my problems except me so that’s what I’m going to do. And as for Peace Corps, I appreciate the staff’s honesty but I don’t feel comfortable asking them for anything after this. That’s not to say they can’t be inadvertently helpful but I think Peace Corps has done me enough favors at this point. Now I’m on my own, in my opinion. Peace Corps has no bearing on what I do anymore. I’m going to do exactly what I want to do. They had their shot and it didn’t work out so I’ll take things from here.

Birthday Post

9/17/14

                Good morning everyone. It’s 5:30AM Guyana time, do you know where Tim is? He’s sitting in front of his computer with barely working internet checking Oregonlive for Beaver news. Sipping a cup of coffee. Relaxing in the early morning stillness punctuated by the god damn annoying cries of the local roosters.

                Nearby, a small bottle of mosquito repellent taunts him. It says, “Hey, put me on!” The repellent here is quite an interesting beast. It’s basically an industrial strength solvent. It might as well say “Do not apply to skin.” Because it burns as soon as you put it on. It’s like a chemical peel in a bottle. My eyelids are on fire but I feel 10 years younger.

                I’m getting real tired of being asked if I can type. When I went down to the records department that ill-fated day that was one of the first things they asked me. When I went to the Regional Health Officer’s office and asked for something to do they asked me if I could type. When I went to the regional Medex office she asked me if I could type. Embarrassingly, the answer is not well. I didn’t join the Peace Corps to have adventures, see the world, and become a secretary.

                My supervisors at PC Guyana, who are really sweet people, linked me with the regional Medex and said she would have some work for me where I would get to travel into the interior and visit health centers. I went to meet the regional Medex the only thing she wanted help with was writing reports, hence the typing question. I don’t think PC lied to me, I really don’t. I imagine the Medex told them one thing to impress them, they told me, and when I actually showed up all of a sudden the Medex had nothing for me to do. That’s the culture here, no one expects anyone to follow through on anything. This leads to a complex in which the expectations are so low, people try to boost their own self-concept by blowing other things out of proportion. So, finally, when someone follows through, nothing goes the way it should. People here know that they should show up on time, go to appointments, and generally do what they say they’re going to do but the culture is too permissive, forgiving, and without real punishments for not sticking to commitments. Avoidance has few consequences here.

9/23/14

A stroke of good luck today. When I first got here, I may have mentioned this, but I heard about this place called the New Opportunities Corps. From what I’ve understand it’s essentially a reform program for at risk youth. This sounded great because this is, essentially, the type of kids that I was working with back home. I talked to my supervisor about it, she’s the Regional Health Officer, and she said that she had to send them a letter, it’s right down the road, they had to send a letter into Georgetown and then a letter would be sent back approving me to volunteer there.

Well, last week my PC supervisors came to town to check up on me. They asked me about the NOC and I told them I hadn’t heard anything. Simone then told me that there had been a volunteer placed there a few years ago and that she knew the supervisor back then and that if he was still there all it would take is a phone call from her for me to be allowed there. Today, I called her about what happened in my last blog post and mentioned I hadn’t heard from NOC yet. Simone promised to make the call today and lo and behold she called me back probably an hour later saying I was good to go at the NOC. Apparently, a letter had been mailed from Georgetown and arrived somewhere in my vicinity but no one had ever told me. But to be fair, the RHO has been on vacation for the last 4 weeks and my counterpart was on vacation for the 4 weeks previous to that.

So hopefully this pans out and turns into something. I just feel like I’m doing so little these days so I hope this can fill up some of my time. I’m going there tomorrow afternoon. I’ll check back in with y’all tomorrow. Thanks, Simone!

9/24/13

                Hi everybody, kind of a lot to talk about today.

                I’ve had this cough/cold like disease for almost 3 weeks now. I felt sick this morning so I called in to the Bacchus School and said I wasn’t coming in. I planned on going to the NOC in the afternoon anyway so I figured I would take the morning off and try to feel better.

                About 12:00 my friend, and fellow volunteer, Iris called and asked me if I wanted to come down to the Chinese restaurant by the post office. I accepted and headed over. We hung out for a little while, she had a meeting to go to for school at 1 so we both left a little before then.

                I approached the NOC campus on foot, it was about a 20 minute walk from my house on the main road. It didn’t seem like anyone was there, kids or adults. As I got closer to the campus I saw a car drop off an adult and watched him walk into a building. I followed him in. There was no lock on the gate, no guard just an open gate. On a juvenile detention center. Not a great first impression.

                The first building I entered turned out to be a recreation room and the staff was just restocking the juice. He directed me to another building on the other side of campus. I walked that direction and some of the kids called out to me, “White man, white man!” I acknowledged them, smiled to myself, and kept walking. I knew these were my type of kids.

                After introducing myself to a few of the wrong staff members I finally met the head honcho. Mr. Dover. He told me a little about what the NOC was all about. Essentially, kids either go to regular school, which judging by the size of the classrooms is not many, or go to one of the training programs. There are programs in IT, Agriculture, Catering and other things. Internally, I question how these are better than regular school.

                I talked with some of the staff, then they kind of abandoned me for a meeting. After that, I just wandered around for a little while. None of the kids seemed interested in talking. Most of them wanted to stare me down. It reminded me of some of my times at YES House and CFH. I felt kind of homesick.

                One kid stopped and talked with me for a little bit. Nicholas, he was 14, from Georgetown and he had several tattoos. Some were on his face. But the way he talked about staff and the facility really was just like the kids I worked with back home. He was a nice kid for the most part.

                I stopped by the shop on the way home. There were two white people at the store which was interesting. I stopped and introduced myself. I wasn’t sure they were white until I got closer. There are some light skinned Portuguese and Cubans that I sometimes mistake for white people. The white peope I met at the store were Jehovah’s Witnesses missionaries from Holland, Roy and Marionne. They had real thick Dutch accents, tried to convert me, and were really nice people. I hope I run into them again. The only other Jehovah’s Witness that I can think of was girl named Salem in 6^th grade.

                I bought a Coke from the shop and finished walking home. I had a long swallow of the soda and I was reminded of something. When I was younger, my Dad would tell his sons stories. Driving to the beach, driving up to the mountains, just any sort of long time period in which we would all be together. He really only told two stories. The one I was thinking about while I was having a long, cool drink of Coke was the one about Harry. Harry was in the military or something. Through some circumstances, he comes to being a boat captain that rents his boat out to some guys that want to do some diving. I think they find a treasure ship or something and they don’t want Harry to know so they go to shoot him and he jumps overboard. Harry then resurfaces, pulls himself onto the boat ends up passing out in the sun while the bad guys leave. Then, when Harry wakes up he goes to the galley and drinks 3 Cokes back to back to back. There’s more to the story but I don’t want to give it away all in one shot. Also, years later I read the book that my dad got this story from. It’s called Eye of the Tiger, if you want to know what happens.

                So what I’m trying to say is that it was so damn hot today that when I took a drink of Coke I felt like I had been shot and then unconscious in the sun for several hours.

9/25/14

                Something else happened the other day that I wanted to write about. I was talking to another volunteer, I don’t want to mention any names this time, and they said that they understood why teachers hit their students. Here, the method of discipline is a fair departure from what it is back home. Teachers here are allowed to “give lashes.” That is, hit their students with a stick. The method sometimes varies with the school, sometimes only the headmistress is allowed to give lashes but he intent remains the same.

                I was talking with this volunteer and somehow this came up. The volunteer, who I’ll call Sam from here on out for brevity’s sake, said that hitting students is the only way they know how to learn not to do something. I’ll concede that in this culture it’s a very real possibility that with all the violence that children are exposed to, both at home and at school, it’s possible they have been conditioned to learn that violence is an acceptable form of punishment. From that they’ve learned that if they’re really not meant to do something then someone, generally an adult, will threaten them with or carry out violence against the child. I’ll concede that. What I won’t concede that it is the only way kids here can learn. When Sam said that, I just got outrageously upset. I’ve known so many kids that have been in violent and abusive situations and I’ve never had to use violence to get my point across.

                Now I know that when Sam said that they weren’t encouraging violence or sanctioning it, they were only stating that they understood why it was used. Sam, you know who you are, I know you don’t condone violence but I wanted to highlight your opinion. I don’t think you’re entirely wrong and I wanted to use your statement as a jumping off point to make my own.

 I guess I was just outraged that Sam wasn’t outraged. But you could also chalk that up to a difference in convictions. Some things that I really care about maybe Sam doesn’t care so much about. This might jst be one of those personal growth moments everyone keeps talking about, Matt.

I’m truly of the opinion that hitting children shouldn’t be allowed in schools. I feel like I have enough context to make that statement. In private, at home, I would condemn excessive violence with prejudice. Something like spanking, while I will say I am against it, I’ve never been a parent and I wouldn’t feel comfortable passing judgment on parents when I haven’t had that experience.

                But I have been in schools here and in the US. And I can see no earthly reason why violence in classrooms is necessary for or beneficial. A child doesn’t learn better with a threat of violence looming over them in the form of a teacher.

                A lot of schools here have a problem with attendance, here’s a pro tip; don’t hit kids. They get scared of coming to school.

10/1/14

                I know, I know, I was supposed to post today. I just got caught up this morning working on other stuff that I didn’t get a chance to post. Let me update you on a few things that have happened first, then I’ll upload this.

                I did an HIV workshop/presentation with some other volunteers at a secondary school on Monday. It went really well and I really enjoyed doing it. The best part is that I went to NOC the next day and asked if they would like to have us do the same presentation there. They couldn’t accept fast enough. They seem to really be starved for programming or maybe they have a quota or something. I’m not sure what their motives are but I imagine I’ll find out quickly as I spend more time there.

                Peace Corps funds a few committees and task forces lead by and made up of volunteers. Before yesterday I was just on Peer Support Network, we just work on supporting volunteers. There’s no budget, I’m quickly finding out that it is kind of designed like the party planning committee but I’ve got plans to change that. Yesterday, I found out that I got selected for the GAD task force. The Gender And Development Task Force. Anyone that knows me knows I’m all about gender issues. I’ve been lucky enough to have a lot of opportunities to work in gender equality fields and I’m really excited to do that in a developing country.

                I have lots of mental health ideas that I’m moving forward with. Depression screenings, suicide prevention workshops, individual counseling. There’s a lot to do in the mental health department here. Actually, there’s everything to do here since so little has been done. The country of 700,000 or so people only has one psychiatrist in the entire country and no psychologists. I don’t blame them though, according to Maslow there’s a lot of things they need to work on first before mental health becomes a main issue. But I’ll do what I can until then. I can feel myself getting busier. That’s a good thing.

I still miss you all, and everything familiar back home. With the other volunteers we constantly talk about how there’s no one big difference here just a lot of little ones. Staying in Peace Corps is really just how many little inconveniences can you deal with before you can’t anymore. I’ve definitely had days that I wanted to come home. Every day, actually. Most times I can talk myself out of it. Sometimes I can’t and those days suck. It’s not easy in any sense of the word. I definitely joined for different reasons than I’m staying for. All the support I get from everyone back home helps a ton. It was my birthday on Sunday, the big quarter century. I’ve now been friends with John Kammerzelt for 10 years or just about. Thanks for being there, bud.

If you feel like it, shoot me an email at timdaniel25@gmail.com. Tell me what you’re up to. I can’t always answer right away but if I can, I will. Alternatively, if you have a smart phone you can download whatsapp and put my phone number in, 592-674-8145.

Living That Guyana Life

9/1/14

Well that was weird. I might have mentioned before that I have a lot of time to kill so I’ve been doing a lot of reading. Recently I’ve been reading Helter Skelter, it’s about Charles Manson and the Manson Family. Very gruesome. So I’m sitting here reading I get up and move to put the book on the table and something falls out. I can see it’s a newspaper clipping and, judging from the printing I can see and the shape of the cutout, the article of interest is on the reverse side. This book is very creepy, anyone who’s heard about Charles Manson knows that he and his family were pretty strange.

So there I am. Standing, looking down at where this newspaper clipping has fallen. I could tell the clipping was old, it was yellowed and on the side I could see was a partial picture of policeman. Judging from his manner of dress combined with the color of the paper I could tell the article was not from this decade. I assumed the article must have been from a time period closer to when the book, and the Manson Family murders, took place.

I reached down and picked up the clipping. I fully expected to see the smiling face of Charles Manson on the other side. I turned it over and the reality wasn’t much better. It was an article, dated by hand in 1977, stating that Roman Polanski would be indicted for the rape of a 13 year old. Roman Polanski’s wife, Sharon Tate, was one of the victims of the Manson Family so that connection made sense but it was a strange thing to hold onto for 37 years. I wonder if whoever put it in the book knew that someday someone would find their article in South America. And to whoever did, that really freaked me out since I was just reading the part about the actual murders. Please don’t do it again.

9/2/14

                Well, its day 3 without running water and only intermittent, unreliable power. I was going to take to Facebook and verbalize my woes a little but then I realized: there are people, some of them very near me and some I know who don’t have water or power at all.

                There’s a comic strip that I really enjoy, Calvin and Hobbes. Nick and Chris enjoy it as well, so much so that Chris named one of his stuffed tigers Hobbes. Now, Calvin has a very philosophical way of putting things if you haven’t read the strip it’s essentially morals and life lessons framed by a 6 year old. In one strip, Calvin takes hold of a helium balloon and it lifts him into space. I forget the actual set up but at the end of it Calvin says, “Life’s never so bad that it can’t get worse.” I’ve tried to keep this in mind during my time here. No matter how bad I have it there’s always someone that has it worse. And often times that person is another Peace Corps Volunteer. What right do I have to complain when there are so many others that don’t have anything close to the few luxuries that I have?

                Interestingly, there is a psychological component to this train of thought. Multiple studies, none of which I can site because of my lack of internet access, have shown that people in lower middle and lower classes will often rank themselves in a higher class then they really are. The idea that someone else always has it worse is a truly human thought and ingrained into our very beings. Food for thought. Or at least a sandwich.

                And as I write this I am enjoying one of the most beautiful vistas from my porch. I’ve posted photos on Facebook and I’ll try to post one here but it is indeed postcard worthy.

9/4/14

                I got water last night! Albeit it was a deep shade of brown red but it was liquid enough to wash my dishes without having to go downstairs for a bucket of rainwater from a quickly emptying rain catchment. Sometimes it’s the little things.

                Apparently someone hit a pole and took the power out on Saturday. Since then electricity had been intermittent. Another volunteer, Naomi, told me that they’re cycling the power from one side of the coast to the other every six hours. They finally got the cycling right so now I have electricity from 12AM-6AM and 12PM-6PM. The water pumps need power to work so pair that up with the water station that’s supposed to, but hardly does, run from 4AM-10AM and 4PM-10PM and I’ve got water for, at best, almost four hours a day! Exciting!

9/6/14

                Unfortunately the water has gone back to not working. My rain tank is emptying quickly there’s about an eighth of a tank left (it’s 200 gallons, supposedly) but it’s not just me using it, the rest of the family does as well. But things will work themselves out I’m sure, at least I have access to water.

                One thing I’ve noticed is that whenever I’m casually strolling down the street and there’s a small child grasping his mother’s hand coming the opposite direction they always stare at me. I think, for some of these children and maybe some adults as well, I must be the first white person they’ve ever seen. It’s an interesting feeling and I resist the urge to pick my nose for fear of labeling the entire white community that I am now an ambassador for.

9/14/14

                I’ve been working on finding things to do lately. Right now, I might have an in with a local primary school. I’m going to try to paint a world map for them. I went to the school on Friday but the Head Mistress (Pricipal) wasn’t there. I spoke with the Secondary Mistress (Vice Principal) and she said she was all for the world map idea. Then she said it was her last day at the school and that she was transferring to a new one on Monday. That’s actually pretty typical down here.

                Yesterday morning I was washing my dishes and I found a dead cockroach in the sink. As I looked at it I had a singularly disturbing thought. Cockroaches, I’ve heard, can basically never die. They are supposed to be able to survive a nuclear apocalypse. The thought that I had was if this cockroach is indeed dead, and not just playing dead to lull me into a false sense of security before leaping up and biting me, there is an aspect of my life that is so toxic it has killed the one creature designed to survive a nuclear explosion. Something I do on a daily basis is able to kill what, essentially, cannot be killed. How filthy of a human being am I?

                Yesterday afternoon I helped another volunteer with a project. She started building a library for her school. It was the first day so she was literally just starting. When I got there it was just her and 2 parents of children at the school sawing rebar and wiring it together to make forms for the concrete to grip. I pitched in as much as I could. This was definitely one of those brochure moments that you hear about in Peace Corps, building a library in a developing country. It was cool.

                When I first got there I felt a little out of place. I don’t really know Iris that well and I wasn’t sure what to do. Then I remembered, “What happens when you go outside your comfort zone? It gets bigger.” After that I tried to be as proactive and volunteered to do anything they needed. Thanks Kristin.

                My mom taught me to be proactive. Whenever she had my brothers and I out in the field or in the garage working on some project she always stressed being proactive and anticipating needs. It’s something that’s been instilled in me and I’ve been trying to use it here. I think it’s working. I can feel my schedule filling up. Thanks Mom.

                My grandpa Pat has to be one of the most friendly and outgoing people I’ve ever had the joy of knowing. There have been moments when I’ve thought, “What would grandpa do?” Generally, I try to do whatever I think he would do. Thanks Grandpa.

                My friend Reed emailed me this past week. This is a guy I haven’t talked to in at least 3 or 4 years but it’s still good to hear from him. All it took was me moving to South America. He said that he sometimes envisions leaving his office job and coming down here. Reed you’re always welcome here. Thanks for the email. It really does mean a lot.

                My friend Abby sent me a Facebook message after that last post. Abby and I aren’t the closest but I still appreciated her reaching out. She’s also become a co-owner of my fantasy football team. Thanks for the support Abby, I appreciate it. A lot.

                Thanks Scott for being commissioner fantasy football gives me something to do in my free time. It can be a great distraction from some of the stuff that goes on down here.

                My friend Sarah has provided me with some technical and moral support. I don’t think she realizes how much she has helped me even before I left. Thanks, friend.

                And thanks to everyone for all your support, moral and otherwise. It gets tough down here sometimes. I’m tearing up just a little thinking about all of you and I know I say it all the time but I miss all of you. I miss Oregon. I miss the rain. I miss hating the U of O. I miss waking up cold. I miss just about everything at one time or another. But I’m going to stick it out for as long as I can, this really is a great opportunity that I’m going to try to make the most of.

P.S.

Emily, I don’t know if you read this but I imagine someone will forward it to you, maybe Chase? I really will miss you, you’re a pretty cool cat and I know that you’re going to do some pretty great things back home. We’ll definitely meet again sometime.

P.P.S

                Also, as I’m posting this the morning of September 15, 2014 I saw that this blog has been viewed 1084 times! This is probably the most successful blog ever. Thanks for reading, everybody! Shoot me an email sometime, timdaniel25@gmail.com.

Some Stuff That Happened

8/27/14

It’s been awhile since I wrote anything so I’ll try to cover a few events in this post.

At my host step dads birthday party I had a pretty good time. They fed me and I got a few beers. One thing kind of stuck out in my mind though. They were playing loud music and everyone was having a good time. One girl, 17 or so, was there and her mom, my mom’s sister’s daughter, kept trying to make me dance with her. The girl was very nice, didn’t take it personally when I repeatedly decided I didn’t want to dance with her. Unfortunately I didn’t catch her name so she’ll have to remain girl. But that’s not the interesting part. At one point, toward the end of the party, most people were done dancing. And then this song comes on, “Wind Up On My Button”.

First, some background. The term wind is pronounced like wined and means essentially the same thing as twerking does. And button means penis. So this song plays and this young girl is the only one still dancing. She starts winding by herself out on the space reserved for dancing while all of her family is watching. Also some Cuban doctors huddled in the dark corner getting really drunk. Her family eggs her on telling her she’s doing great while she’s doing this extremely provocative dance. It was strange to see this entire family advocating for this girl’s advertised promiscuity but given the state of women’s sexuality in many other places in the world it was a refreshing take as well.

I went to the beach a few weeks ago. That was a singularly breathtaking experience. It was a beach on a lake, not the ocean but it was very pretty just the same. It was a black water lake which means that the foliage decaying in the water turns it a dark brown. It stained my shorts. We were there with my extended host family and they were very nice. At one point my host mom said, “We’re your family” and I almost broke into tears. They have been really nice to me and have made sure I haven’t wanted for anything. They really are like my family now.

My first week here, I was sitting on the porch with my host mom, just shooting the breeze. Several times, we were interrupted by my host mom’s pet parrot named Rosaline. The Parrot made a horrible screeching noise at an incredible decibel and really stopped the conversation in its tracks. My host mom grew upset with the parrot and threatened, several times, to lash it. Finally, my host mom had had enough. She picked up a stick from the table and approached the parrot. It was disconcerting to say the least. She joked and smiled as she got closer to the parrot stating it was, “a bad, bad bird.” I remember thinking to myself, “Is she really going to hit this bird with a stick?” She gave it a few hard raps and pushed it inside its cage. And that’s why I joined Peace Corps, to broaden my horizons and have new experiences. Never before had I had a reason to think about someone hitting a bird with a stick but finally I was able to have that experience.

Something very awkward just happened. My host cousin’s daughter, so my second host cousin, broke her leg. She’s about 3 or 4, I think, I’m not good with children’s ages. She can’t verbalize herself too well so it was difficult to diagnose her. She had bicycle accident about a month ago. Two weeks after that they took her to the hospital where they couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her. Her leg hurt, wasn’t swollen and they didn’t know why. My host cousin brought her home for a week then took her back to the hospital last week. They took the time to do an x-ray, which hadn’t been done initially, and saw her leg was obviously broken. I’m not sure how they missed that on the first visit since these are actual doctors with medical degrees, albeit from Cuba, but still. Now my little host second cousin has a cast that basically covers her whole leg, pretty cute.

So my host mom, Pam, and her sister, Patsy, are pretty friendly with some of these same Cuban doctors. They have doctors over every once in a while and they happened to show up just as I was getting home. And it turns out these doctors were the same ones that saw my host second cousin the first time and didn’t take an x-ray or even suspect her leg might be broken. So we’re all standing around just gaffing (talking) and the whole time my host cousin, mother to the little girl with the broken leg, is just staring daggers at these two doctors. Every time someone says something funny she just doesn’t laugh, she just keeps staring down these doctors. So I head to my house at the back of the lot, and everybody parts ways. My host cousin starts walking away then she says, very loudly, “They need a lashing, one time! (quickly)” I turned around and looked and I could see the doctors looking very embarrassed and keep walking towards the house. So that’s the drama in Guyana right meow. Miss you all, shoot me an email sometime. Timdaniel25@gmail.com

Also, I’m going to start trying to post on the 1^st and the 15^th now that I have fairly regular internet access. Please help me hold myself to this.

FML

8/14/2014

Today, something bad happened.

Because I’m not a physical therapist and I’m assigned to a physical therapy clinic, inherently, there’s not a lot for me to do. I found myself with a lot of free time, so I sought out new avenues of volunteerism. One area I found was the records department.

Before I get to too far on this I want you to know that I’m not pulling any punches. This is exactly what I think as I think it. I also am representing facts as they happened, nothing has been embellished.

My schedule is pretty basic. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I’m at the Bacchus school in the morning. It’s a private school run by an American ex pat. There’s a technology camp going on there that aims to introduce young kids to technology. Usually I volunteer at camp from 8:30-12:30 then end up hanging out there for the rest of the day casually working on a teacher development program for teachers at the school. The hope is that it can be extended to other schools in the area. The reason I don’t go to the clinic should be obvious from my previous posts; there’s nothing to do there. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I work with the stroke patients. Usually business drops off around noon and I head home for some lunch and come back to the clinic and end up doing nothing until 4.

Well, last week on Thursday I went to the records department and they asked me to help them get a computer so they could digitalize some of their records. I said I would help and said I’d be back to talk some more about it. They already had a computer but I didn’t say anything. This past week I was talking with another volunteer and he’s analyzing trends in hypertension and diabetes patients. This sounded cool and I was going to present the idea to the records department today.

So after lunch I went to the records department to see if there was anything I could help with and present my project idea. The records supervisor was in a meeting so I asked some of the staff if I could wait until she was done to talk to her. As I was waiting someone, a guy I’d never seen before, asked if he could speak with me. He took me back to his air conditioned office and asked me who I was and what I was doing there. I told him about Peace Corps and he asked me if I had an official letter or something to identify myself and what I was doing. Obviously I didn’t because this isn’t Nazi Germany. I don’t worry about having my papers with me at all times. He told me that I should get one so in case some supervisor or something came in I would be able to identify myself. I asked him what he did at the records department. He told me that he helped out the supervisor with different things so I assumed he was just a secretary taking his job way too seriously. I thanked him and left.

A little miffed and with no intention of getting a letter to identify myself to the secretary Gestapo I continued to converse with some of the staff and wait for the meeting to end. The secretary walked into and out of the meeting a few times and conversed with the supervisor. Another staff was called into the meeting then came out and said that I needed the letter so that I could volunteer at the records department. Now legitimately upset, I left before I said something I would regret later. Now, I know they’re just doing their jobs and that anyone else that came in would have to have some sort of identification to volunteer. But I’m still pissed.

Obviously I’m not a spy or anything. I’m not here to steal the mountains of records that they have or set fire to the maternity ward. I’m with the Peace Corps. I’m here to help.

Before, I wanted to help and the people here didn’t know how I could. That’s natural, if you haven’t seen what could be you don’t know how much better it could be. That was confusing. Basically, people here haven’t been to the US. They don’t know that they could have it so much better. So when you ask to help they don’t know how you can help because things have never been better for them even though they could be.

Now it feels like they’re actively denying my help. At one point, with people filing records all around me, I literally stood there and said, “Give me something to do” while people were working all around me. And they just gave me blank stares.

Another volunteer is considering quitting. He says back home he was doing way more to help people as a nurse then what he does here. And I feel the same way. I didn’t always like The Children’s Farm Home but I enjoyed the kids and my coworkers and felt like I was making a difference in someone’s life. It’s hard to see how I’m doing anything equal to or better here.

And to make things worse, I went to the shop on the way home to buy a Coke and feel a little bit better about this situation. While I was standing in line a cockroach crawled out from under the counter, climbed my pant leg and perched on my shoulder and looked me dead in the eye. That was pretty gross.

Fear Itself

8/4/14

Today, something truly horrific happened.

I woke up, like any other Monday, and walked around the corner to the bathroom. I glanced up and was jolted out of my stupefied post slumber phase and looked dead into his eight eyes. There was a spider. But not just any spider, he was a tarantula. Not big one, but big enough to make me pee a little. He was about as big as the back of my hand but that’s still pretty big for a spider. I named him Fear Itself because to name your foe is to know him and he’d just become my mortal enemy. Neither of was leaving with the other alive. I couldn’t afford to give him the opportunity to visit me while I slept. This was war.

After my initial fear lessened I began to think rationally about how to kill this mythical creature. I geared up; put on my only Oregon State sweatshirt, pair of jeans, shoes. I crept back to the shower area where I left the monster. Of course, he was gone. But a quick inspection of the area found him on the floor of the shower. At that point, I could have tried to wash Fear down the drain. But given the uneven footing of the shower floor and an inability to get a high water flow in that area made the possibility impossible.

Turning my back to the beast I looked around, hurriedly, for another weapon. My eyes alighted on my most recent purchase. A large knife, at least a 10 inch blade that I’d been sharpening all weekend. This was my Excalibur.

Grabbing the knife I turned to battle with my foe. My shaking hand came down with the first stroke and severed a few of his legs. He dragged himself to the corner. Overcome with bloodlust I refused him quarter and continued to hack away until the red veil lifted from my eyes. When it was all over Fear lay vanquished and curled. I crowed with victory and grabbed my pointer broom then swept him triumphantly down the drain.

Now, this was not the horrific part. Later, I was sitting on the toilet doing some paperwork. And I see a few ants. Not normally a cause for concern given that my house is open to the elements. But then I see a few more until they’re swarming in front of the open bathroom door. Then slowly I see the swarm carry something from around the corner. I squint and try to make it out. It’s one of the spider’s legs. It slowly moves from one side of the door to the other and disappears into a crack in the wall. And that is probably the most interesting thing that will happen to me this week.

My House

I have to reiterate how beautiful it is here. It’s ridiculous. As I write this at 8:30AM on Friday, August 1^st there’s a light rain falling and it’s a balmy 65 degrees out. It almost reminds me of home.

I live on the second floor of a two story house at the back of the lot. Between me and the main road stand two houses, one belonging to my host mom and landlady, Pam, and the other belonging to her daughter, Samantha. Directly beside me is Pam’s sister, Patsy. On the other side of Samantha Pam and Patsy’s sister and brother each own a house but are not home. The sister is in New York and the brother is in Canada. Pam and Patsy still maintain their homes for them as they like to visit on holidays.

When I exit my house I’m greeted by the obnoxious calls of about 6 roosters. They begin crowing at 3:00AM and continue to wake me every 30 to 45 minutes until around 5:30. This morning I gave in quickly and rose around 4. I’m anticipating an early bedtime. A late one for me is now around 10PM.

Also upon my exit I can see one, of what I think, of the most beautiful vistas in the world. First, it’s green. Green as far as I can see. Directly below me is a small yard filled with dirt and the odd mix of plants. This is where the chickens and roosters live during the day. At night their corralled into a small pen about 20 yards to my left. Further out that direction, maybe a half mile is a small row of houses. And from there up to the edge of the yard below me is a field of green grass filled with the odd goat, sheep or cow. People’s livestock tend to run wild and free here. I’m not sure what stops people from taking them or how they get home. There may be some mutton in my future.

Further out in front of me, past the yard, there’s a row of palm trees and then a rice paddy. One of many near me. It’s basically a controlled swamp in which rice happens to grow. But it too is very green and pleasing to the eye. And from there back until where the jungle starts is simply rice paddies and rows of palm trees. It’s very quaint and often quiet most of the time. Relaxing doesn’t even begin to describe it.

My house is small, but I don’t need much space. I have a main room that flows into the kitchen and the bathroom is around the corner. Supposedly we’re supposed to get water from 6AM-10AM and then from 6PM-10PM. Unfortunately, that is hardly ever the case. As I write this the water still hasn’t come on and in the past week hasn’t come on at all in the evenings. Luckily, I have a rain barrel the gutters lead to that I can draw upon in times like this I’m told it holds 200 gallons and at the rate the rain is falling the barrel will be filled soon.

I also have a cozy bedroom, just enough space for my bed, mosquito net, and a small chest of drawers. I also have a spare room where my hammock is hung. It’s also where I store my odds and ends. It’s a tad untidy now but I have plans today to go through and clean it, hopefully they materialize.

There’s thunder and lightning now, adding to the racket already going on in my house. That’s one thing that surprised me and continues to, actually. Every house has a corrugated tin roof without exception. Now imagine a drop of water travelling at terminal velocity which must be close to the speed of gravity, 9 meters a second if I’m recalling correctly, striking a piece of tin. It probably makes a small ringing noise which quickly dissipates. Now multiply that by however many drops fall when it’s raining and imagine you’re in a small room with a tin roof with the sound reverberating off every surface. At times it’s deafening.

Supposedly the rainy season is over soon and the steel drum band above me will call it off for the season. But that’s an equally scary thought, the rain keeps things vaguely cool and when that stops it’ll just be hot, hot, hot. But no one said this was glamorous.

I keep saying I miss you all, I imagine at some point you’ll stop believing me. But it’s true, I’m constantly thinking of all of you, how you’re doing, what you’re up to. Shoot me an email sometime (timdaniel25@gmail.com), I only have intermittent email access at this point but I think that may change soon.

Bye.

2 Weeks as Full Volunteer

Two weeks since I took the big oath to, "uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States of America." Since then absolutely has nothing has changed. It's like I spent the last two months training and waiting to be this really awesome volunteer and start changing people's lives and none of that happened. I keep having this feeling that I should be doing something more than what I'm doing but I don't know what that is.

All that aside, Guyana is still pretty cool. I'm attached to the physical therapy unit at the Suddie hospital. The hospital itself is 3 stories and a lot of smaller buildings scattered around, an ICU, health center, family health center, and my department.

The hospital is a pale peeling yellow, originally built during the occupation of Guyana by the British. That means it's pre-1964. There's not a computer in the place, everything is handwritten and stapled together and filed away and from there you have a fifty fifty shot at finding it again.

My clinic is a brand new building as of two weeks ago. It's a pristine concrete building also a dull yellow that doesn't draw the eye. There's a staff of three that works there, Donna, Mr. Thomas and Ena. And they average about 8 patients a day. So, yeah.

As far as work I'm doing real, actual work for about 15-20 hours a week. The rest of it I'm sitting in the clinic thinking of all the things I'll do in the future. It's hard to sit around and do nothing when I've been working at least 20 hours a week and going to school for the last 5 years. This has been a real challenge trying to stay motivated and I am struggling right now.

But there are a few bright spots in my future. I may get to teach some classes at the New Opportunities Corps. It's a facility for juvenile offenders that trains them in trades so they may one day re enter society. That sounds right up my alley. And school will start again in September so  I can start doing something in a school. Apparently all you have to do is go in and say what you want to do and they'll let you.

So I've got a lot going for me and a lot to look forward to, plus, I'm in South America which is pretty cool. I still have to wash all my clothes by hand and struggle with understanding the taxi driver as he speeds by my house even though I said stop up here. But I'm doing well, all things considered. I'm not ready to leave yet so I'll continue doing what the US government has told me is good and useful work, for now.

To everyone back home, I do miss you a lot and I think about all of you every day. feel free to email me, timdaniel25@gmail.com. I also have a real address here that I can't remember right now but I'll put it up next time. Here's some photos from my last site, Timehri that didn't get put up. Never mind, the internet isn't good enough to finish it inside 6 hours so take it easy everyone and I'll post again real soon.

Moving Day

Hi All,

Well, a lot has happened since I posted last. Yesterday, I swore in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer, so that was exciting. I saw my new site, it looks like Vietnam in Rambo and Apocalypse Now right before the bombs drop. It's called Suddie and it's on the west coast of Guyana. I can almost see the ocean from my house.

My new family is cool. They're a bunch of truck drivers and they drive back and forth from Georgetown carrying loads of gravel and sand. The mom takes care of me though. I have my own little house at the back of the property, I'll take some photos soon. The internet here is not great so it's hard to upload photos.

But more importantly today is a bit of a melancholy day. As I sit here in my hotel room I've got Jerrell, Andrew, and Ryan conversing all around me, even more people are filtering in and out. We're all trying to hold on to the last vestiges of our group as we're all scheduled to depart today. Our family is splitting up and its a sad day for everyone.

We say we'll keep in contact, I sincerely hope that happens because I've truly come to love each of them. I came to Guyana, not knowing anyone and I really shouldn't have been scared. I met 33 of my closest friends out here. These people are amazing and I know I can rely on any one of them for anything. It's incredible that we all became so close in such a short amount of time.

I know this is short but I have to get going. I have a lot of packing left to do and not much time to do it. I hope everyone's doing okay. I'm getting a permanent address here real soon and I'll let everyone know what it is so I can receive all your care packages. I miss you all.

P.S. Rob, if you're reading this I miss you and feel free to give me a call or an email some time.

40ish Days in Guyana

Well, I’ve been here for 40ish days now, hence the title. Since then I’ve learned a few important things that I’ll share just now.

·         Just Now (I’ll devote an entire post to this later)

·         My family knew who Ken Jennings was. There’s a woman on Jeopardy who’s won for 20 days straight, I think. Murica said that she was going to break Ken’s record.

·         You want to talk about shrinkage? Take a cold shower every day for 30 days. They’ve gone back up into my body.

·         My sister, Ja’El, legitimately thought Run DMC’s name was Ron DMC. Hilarious.

·         On Monday we were talking about Guyana and Guyanese culture and comparing them to the US. The teacher asked our class to sing our national anthem. So we all did, it was an incredibly patriotic moment in a country far, far away.

·         Every night my family and I watch the 8 o’clock movie on the Guyana Learning Channel. They show math and Spanish lessons during the day. Last night it was Muppets take Manhattan, before that it was The Great Muppet Caper so pretty quality films. Usually it’s a kid’s movie and if there’s more than one they do the whole series before moving on. There’s a bunch of Muppet movies so I’ll be an expert by the time I come home.

·         Commercials seem to be run by someone pushing buttons on a dvd player. At a commercial break the screen will pause on a graphic then a play logo will pop up like someone pushed play.

That’s most of the new things that I’ve learned. I’ve tried a lot of different fruits and vegetables. Corailla is pretty good, and never eat a sugar apple.

On Friday, I get my final site placement. It basically determines the next two years of my life so I’m simultaneously excited and scared. No matter what happens though I’m sure it will be a great experience. Staying positive is something you learn pretty quickly out here. If you’re not framing things positively, you won’t survive here very long. Not that things are bleak or bad but this place can get overwhelming fast. Still riding that high of being in South America. I’ll definitely post this weekend to let you all know where I’m going since I’m sure you’re all on the edge of your seats.

Home Inspection Photos

Here's some structural photos of my house. These are mostly for my dad, but you all can enjoy them as well. It's actually a little scary.

A Day in the Life

Hey everyone, just checking in again. Every Sunday I come to the airport for the air conditioning and wi fi, the perfect storm to do a little more blogging.

I realized that while I showed you a bunch of pictures you all don't have a very good idea of what I'm actually doing out here. Every morning I wake up about 5:30am and I go for a run with another volunteer, Mark. We usually run until 6:15ish then head home to get ready for training. I go home and hang out on the porch for a little and dry off since by that time I'm sweating up a storm since it's usually around 70 degrees by that time. Then I take a cold shower and have a little breakfast, usually some fruit and toast with juice. After breakfast I brush my teeth, spit off the porch, and head out for the day.

The training area, called Red Ground, is an interesting place. It's some old, wooden bleachers attached to a small building consisting of two rooms, an upstairs and down. The bleachers overlook a large dirt field covered in red dust, hence Red Ground. Kids usually come and play soccer here after school which conveniently coincides with the end of our day. There's also a small canteen nearby that serves snacks and cold drinks that are a nice treat after training.

Training consists of a range of topics. A lot of it is working within Peace Corps and Guyana, basically how not to be a loud, crass American. Some of it is technical information like how diabetes and hypertension work as well as topics like breastfeeding and gardening. That takes up a majority of the day right there and were usually done by 5. It's all fairly mundane and routine right now.

We're all focused on our permanent assignment right now. On June 13th we'll know where we'll be for the rest of our tour. It looks like I'm destined for a more coastal region that is generally a little more developed than an interior hinterland region. Initially it wasn't my first choice but since I've gotten here I've realized that its not necessarily about where I end up but who I end up with. I decided I'd really prefer a smaller community than a larger one and that's really been the only thing I've asked for. Another volunteer, Allie, from the group before ours told us about her placement. She said she lives in a community of about 400 people on a lake and the health center she works at is right next door.

I'll admit the novelty has worn off and my zeal is starting to flag a little. I was doing laundry today and got really annoyed with how long it was taking, it usually takes about 2 hours. Then I looked up and could see the thick jungle in my backyard and realized that I'm in South America, I've only known this family for 3 weeks, and I've only known all my friends for 4 weeks. This is truly an epic and unparalleled experience. I'll probably never have this experience or this moment ever again and I should truly treasure it.

The Homestead

Hi Everyone! Just checking in on my lazy Sunday and updating you all. Since you didn't get to see too much of my house I took a few photos this morning and now you can see them.

Here's a few pictures of my room. It's not much bigger than the bed that's in it. Probably should have cleaned up first. Meh. That's also my fancy mosquito net Peace Corps issued me.

 This is my trusty water filter. I asked the doctor if I could pee into it and achieve 100% efficiency with my water. The doc said it was fine but I've been too scared to try it.

These are my front steps. The rules are that you take your shoes off and leave them on the stairs. Then you wipe your feet off on the mat inside the door. No shoes in the house!

This is the living room area. The house is about 2/3rds teal and the other third is blue. I think the other 1/3rd was built on at some point. The floor is wood and covered in 3 different kinds of contact paper. There are holes in the contact paper where there's gaps between the planks and you can see the ground through the floor. Also, the walls don't go all the way up to the ceiling so there's no such thing as privacy really. My room has a door but the other rooms just have curtains. That's my room on the end there.

In addition to the lack of complete walls, the roof doesn't fully attach to the walls so there's about a six inch gap between the roof and the walls. It definitely helps with ventilation but now the mosquitoes can help themselves.

This is the kitchen area, also a little messy.

 Who's that handsome devil?

There he is washing his clothes. He's really good at it despite what his host family says.

 This is the color of the water that comes out of the tap. It looks clear coming out but in a glass or a bucket, it's not to appealing. Peace Corps says don't drink it but I haven't had any problems yet.

 This is the bathroom and shower area.

Here's the shower area. Yep. There's no hot water. Don't even ask. But to be fair it hasn't dropped below about 70 degrees since I've been here.

 Here's the toilet. Sometimes toads get in and will hop on you while you're pooping. True story.

 Here's the sink area.

But, here's the view behind the bathroom. Definitely worth it. It's just a thick jungle that goes on for miles.

That's my house. That's how I live now. It ain't glamorous but it's home. There's a lot to tell you about but I don't want to bore you all with this post. I'll just tell you one cool thing that happened this week.

My first day at the clinic I was watching the nurse weigh and measure infants to make sure they were healthy. I had been watching her fill out the paperwork but not intently. Then, all of a sudden, she asks me to take over. I was hesitant to say the least but I jumped in there and Jerrell, you know him from an earlier post, and I measured and weighed a few kids while the nurse was gone. When she came back she checked our work and everything was perfect. So now there's some kids out there who have my handwriting and initials in their file. And they'll have that forever. I've already impacted someone's life in a positive, albeit small, way.

Kind of a cool moment.