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.